A New Squid in Town

6. Rampant Rivalry

"S-S-Squilliam Fancyson!" Squidward's eyes filled with intimidation as the other cephalopod approached him. Squilliam held his hands behind his back in an elegant pose, a sneer plastered upon his countenance. "I hope things are going well for you in the service industry," he spoke, his voice filled with mockery. "It must be extraordinarily difficult to get by with such a lousy paycheck from your job as a cashier. Oh, wait!" He took a moment to place his tentacle hands on his hips and have a hearty chuckle. "I wouldn't know!"

Squidward's mood shifted and he clenched his fists, becoming irate at once. The octopus then rolled his eyes and glared at his rival. "Just because you're wealthy and constantly flaunt your inheritance in our faces, it doesn't make you better than the rest of us."

"Big words coming from someone with a dead-end job at a fast-food establishment," scoffed Squilliam, folding his hands over his chest. "Now, I'd love to stay and converse with you longer, Squiddy, but I have far more important matters to attend to. I'm about to have a series of faultless self-portraits commissioned, back at my luxurious abode. They're to be painted solely by one of the greatest freelancers in town, Octavius Calamaro. It's going to be just divine working with him."

"He deserves a lot better than YOU!" spat Squidward, his tension rising in a brief display of vulnerability. Squilliam blinked a few times, then clutched his stomach as he let out a condescending laugh. "Wait, don't tell me," he chuckled. "You actually CARE for this guy." He guffawed, wiping a single tear from his eye as though this situation amused him greatly. "Do you really think an upper-class artistic genius like him could be friends with a peasant, like yourself? Dream on, Squiddy." With a dismissive wave of his tentacle hand, Squilliam retreated into the back of his limousine boat. His chauffeur started the vehicle, and soon the boat was out of sight.

Squidward stood at his front door, his posture slumped. On his face rested a defeated, miserable look. Oh, how he wished Squilliam would stop tormenting him. With a hearty sigh, the octopus sat on the ground, burying his face in his knees. A few minutes later, he felt a hand rest gingerly on his shoulder. SpongeBob? Of course, it was!

"Aww, cheer up, Squidward!" urged the yellow sea sponge. "Patrick and I can help you out. We can help you paint a portrait for Octavius. That way, he'll know how much your friendship means to you two!" Squidward looked up and sighed. "First of all," he said, rubbing his temples as though he had a headache. "We've already painted portraits for each other. Second, how much of that conversation did you hear?" "I heard enough," admitted SpongeBob. "But everything's gonna be okay, Squidward. Maybe we can find another way to help you and Octavius's friendship!"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, but I don't need your help, SpongeBob!" Squidward stood up from the ground and headed into his house, slamming his front door behind him. The yellow sponge clearly didn't get the hint, as he peeped through one of Squidward's windows a moment later, opening it enthusiastically. "Maybe we could make him a whole feast of Krabby Patties!" he suggested.

"I'm almost certain he dines in five-star restaurants every evening if he's as wealthy as Squilliam Fancyson claims he is," muttered Squidward. "Now that I've discovered Octavius works for him, I might as well kiss our friendship goodbye. I mean, how is he going to take it if he finds out I work in the...service industry?" "Don't say that, Squidward," answered the sea sponge in a futile attempt to comfort his neighbor. "He can still be friends with you AND Squilliam. Just like you're friends with me AND Patrick!"

"What was your point with this, exactly?" retorted Squidward, his voice monotone. "We want to help you," SpongeBob tried. "Since you're our best buddy in the whole sea!"

Squidward sighed, shook his head, and approached the sea sponge, who was now standing in his living room somehow. He placed his hands behind his back and feigned a smile. He began speaking, first in a calm tone. "As much as I deeply appreciate your willingness to help me in my time of need," he started. Then, his expression turned into anger, a wildfire present in his eyes.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!!!"