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*
It's not fair...
Plankton and his stupid schemes about stupid sandwiches full of rotting old chum...
Karen grumbles over her paperwork in her own secret evil laboratory, located deep, deep underneath the 'kitchen' laboratory of the Chum Bucket.
She's worked so hard to inch... just a little closer... closer... closer... to a massive hostile takeover of Bikini Bottom, and then... world-domination! BUT—of course! It is once again ruined, all of Karen's plans, because her ex-husband's inability to LISTEN TO HER!!!
Still grumbling, Karen's computerized green lines wiggling and waggling in irritation, everything booms above her.
It's... STOMPING?
"For Neptune's sake," she sighs, heading up reluctantly.
*
Her mobile wheels start jumping, up, up and nearly toppling her as the Chum Bucket's double-doors fly.
Karen's customer, a whale-woman with a sleeked yellow ponytail and in business clothes, stomps inside. Her fins fisting at her sides. Her expression livid. Thankfully, whatever there is of metal cafeteria-tables have been welded right to the floor, as Pearl Krabs flops at one.
"Hi," Pearl huffs out bubbles, but her mood lightens as Karen rolls over with a pencil-pad. "I'll have what's good, please."
In the distance, a wailing screech of—"PEARLYYY, ME GIRL! PEEEEEARRRLLLYYYYYYY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Nothing's good," Karen admits this out loud. Might as well be an honest solo full-time owner.
A soft scoff, bubbling.
"Then I'll have... whatever your favorite thing to make is," Pearl replies, amused.
Karen's computer-screen blips with a small green grin.
*
Somewhere in the distance, Mr. Eugene Krabs weeps into his money.
"It's not good," Pearl also admits, nibbling daintily on Karen's new and improved chum-nuggets. Now with less chum. "It's not all bad either."
A motorized hum of gratitude.
Then, terror, as Pearl yanks a oversized bottle of hot sauce from her little pink purse and merrily drenches everything.
*