Yes, it’s official. After a chaotic and soggy conclave convened at the Krusty Krab—redecorated with seashell banners and jellyfish incense—the fishy faithful have reached a consensus. It wasn’t easy. In true Bikini Bottom fashion, the process was as bizarre as it was unholy.
The Sea-nod of the Century
The papal selection, dubbed The Great Coral Conclave, was officiated by none other than Patrick Star. The pink theologian, who once confused a jellyfish for the Holy Spirit, donned his ceremonial swim trunks and led the congregation in an extended debate filled with bubble chants, kelp communion, and several breaks for snack time.
The nomination of SpongeBob was first floated by Sandy Cheeks, who praised his “unshakable optimism,” “infinite grace under pressure,” and most importantly, his “complete inability to hold a grudge, even against Plankton.” But not everyone was immediately on board.
Enter: Cardinal Squidward
Squidward Tentacles, playing the role of chief theologian of bitter realism, protested the idea on artistic grounds, claiming, “SpongeBob lacks the gravitas required for papal responsibility. And besides, he still can’t make a decent clarinet solo.” For hours, he filibustered with monologues about “institutional dignity” and “the sacredness of silence.”
But, alas, the fishy flock needed a leader. One who would unify the town, bless the patties, and lead Bikini Bottom through troubling times—like the upcoming annual Sea Bear migration or Mr. Krabs' next price hike.
After a heartfelt speech by Gary the Snail (translated by Sandy), and a surprise musical interlude led by Pearl and the Undersea Gospel Choir, Squidward reluctantly gave his blessing. “Fine,” he said. “But only if I get to redesign the papal vestments.”
The First Decrees of Pope Bob Squarepants
Upon his official coronation—marked by a jellyfish landing on his head and refusing to leave—Pope Bob SquarePants issued his first ex cathedra pronouncements:
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Thou shalt not eat the Krabby Patty Secret Formula without tithing a pickle.
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Mandatory weekly confessions at Goo Lagoon, followed by beach volleyball.
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A new sacred holiday: Opposite Day Eve, to be celebrated with underwater Gregorian yodeling.
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All dirty bubbles are now considered heretical and subject to exorcism.
Sources say SpongeBob wept spongey tears of joy, proclaiming, “I’m ready… to lead the people of Bikini Bottom in love, service, and perfectly symmetrical jellyfish nets!”
What’s Next for Bikini Bottom?
Pope Bob is expected to move into the recently blessed Vaticoral Palace, just next door to his pineapple. Meanwhile, Plankton has already launched an alternative denomination, “The First Reformed Chum-Believers,” with Karen as his high priestess. It's unclear how successful it will be, given the smell.
The citizens of Bikini Bottom seem cautiously optimistic. Even Mr. Krabs, who initially opposed the election on the grounds that “popes don’t pay taxes,” has since come around—once Pope Bob promised indulgences in the form of buy-one-get-one-free Krabby Patties.
As Pope Bob SquarePants raises his spatula-turned-scepter and blesses his aquatic congregation, one thing is clear: the Church of the Holy Bubble has never been in better (or weirder) hands.
Amen!
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