Deep within his laboratory (next to the picture of his lab), Sheldon J. Plankton pours over the scientific formula he has been concocting. His brow furrows, he licks his lips and sweat drips. His focus is solely on the formulation he has made, and with the final drop, the potion he has concocted fizzles, bubbles, settles, and turns into a deep crimson.
“Success!” shouts the miniature mastermind. “At long last, that blasted Eugene Krabs will no longer be able to bully me out of his restaurant. With this concoction, I will have the strength of the entire Plankton family, all in this body. Ooh hoho, yes. Sweet revenge will be mine, and then—the Krabby Patty secret formula.” He continues his maniacal laughter, rubbing his flagella together, his brow furrowed in Machiavellian glee.
“Sheldon!” comes the voice of Plankton’s computer wife. “It’s 4 in the morning! Some people are trying to sleep!”
“Can’t you see I’m making science, woman!” Plankton shouts, but he turns back to his potion. “Hm, but I probably should get some rest. Who knows what this extra-strength extra strength potion would do to my tummy in the night.”
He places the drink in the refrigerator and heads off to bed. With his laboratory left alone, the only thing left to monitor is the fluid inside the fridge.
“Hm…”
* * *
“Well, honey, I’m off to work, and by ‘work,’ I mean taking the Krabby Patty Secret Formula!” Plankton says, grabbing his drink from the fridge.
“You know, Sheldon,” remarks Karen. “I was looking over the formula. You really shouldn’t drink that.”
“Oh, remember, dear, Organic Chemistry is my department. Yours is being beautiful.” He says this, kissing his computer wife before he hops off and whistles down to the Krusty Krab.
“Solicitations!” shouts the boisterous plankton as he throws the doors open, strutting his stuff up to the register.
Squidward stands bored, sighing when Plankton approaches. “No, you aren’t allowed to order anything,” Squidward says, sighing.
“That’s perfectly alright,” says Plankton, pulling out his concoction. “I’ve brought my own refreshments today.”
Scuttling out of the manager’s office comes the irate Mr. Krabs. “No outside food or drink in the Krusty Krab—not unless you pay the ‘Outside food and drink fee, which will be, aaah!” he gasps, pointing a big meaty claw at the intruder. “Plankton!”
“That’s right, Krabs!” says Plankton. “I’m here in your restaurant without an army, without robotic doppelgangers, and without a convoluted series of events. I just have this!”He says this, chugging down the drink and then tossing the empty bottle away. Burping, he pats his stomach. “Uuugh, I was right about it upsetting my tummy.”
“So, that’s your little plan, is it? What new kind of sody-pop are you selling at the Chum Bucket? I bet it's flat!
“Ha, shows what you know! It’s as fizzy as the day I made it! Now come on, Krabs, kick me out!”
“With pleasure!” Mr. Krabs says, cocking back a leg and football-kicking the villain.
Or he would if Plankton didn’t stop the kick with one flagellum.
“What!?”
“That’s right, Krabs. That potion I created makes me stronger than anything in Bikini Bottom. Bigger than Bubba. Larger than Larry and more kilograms than Kyle. There’s no way you can stop me now from demanding your secret Formula. There’s nothing you can do to stop me, hey!”
Mr. Krabs yanks his leg away, taking a cup and putting it over Plankton. He then sits on it. “Doesn’t matter how strong a shrimp is if he’s still a shrimp, agugugugugugah!”
Plankton grumbles inside the prison, pushing against the cup, but he cannot escape without proper leverage. “Curse you laws of physics!” he says, shaking his fist.
As he does, though, he notices the definition in his arm, the muscle that grows on it. “Oh hey, that doesn’t look half-bad.” He chuckles to himself, but then the arm explodes in size, and he screams.
Mr. Krabs flies off the cup, landing on a nearby table, and he screams.
Squidward observes Plankton’s arms grow huge, supporting his tiny body, and Squidward screams!
“Waaaaah! Waaaaah! Aaaaah! Aaaaah!”
As Squidward Screams, Plankton’s legs balloon into shapely things. Now, he can stand tall, though his tiny body is disproportional to the rest of him. Suddenly, his chest expanded until he was a tall Adonis of a man.
He smirks and leans forward on the register, wiggling his brow. “So, Mr.Tentacles, are you gonna give me that formula now?”
“Oh no, he’s hot!” thinks Mr. Tentacles. “I-I-I don’t know the formula.” He blabbers, though something in him wishes he did—something that wouldn’t have minded a bit of forced interrogation by the baritone-voiced Adonis before him.
“No matter,” claps the villain, turning his attention to Mr. Krabs. “Oh, Eugene! How about I beat the formula out of you?” He says this, punching one fist into the other.
Mr. Krabs flips on the table, standing up and putting up his claws. “I was in the Navy! I know my way around a brawl!”
“Oh yes, I’ve been waiting decades to do this to you and… ah… ah? Uuurgh!” He grabs his stomach, falling to his knees.
“Ha! What’s the matter, Plankton? Your little cheaty potion doing too much to ya?”
“Curse you, Krabs!” Plankton says, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Y-you’ll rue the day that you… that you… ah… ahh… waaaah!”
Outside the Krusty Krab, Fred whistles, about to open the door, when the walls and windows explode. The massive Plankton grows too large for the building to contain him, sending Fred flying far off, crashing away from the scene, and screaming, “My Leg!”
Plankton, now wearing the Krusty Krab like a tanktop, laughs as he stands tall, flexing his muscles. “What’s this? My formula has transformed me into a hulking behemoth? Oh yes! My body now matches my prodigious mind! Take that, Krabs! Krabs?”
