#except for mr. krabs cuz the cartoon says he's 70???

[im-coming-to-you-live]

SpongeBob- Greying Gracefully

Yeah I keep forgetting I have a tumblr. Hey, this exists.

Greying Gracefully Summary: SpongeBob finds a grey hair and begins to worry about his premature aging. Rated: T for Teen; 13+ Characters: Squidward, SpongeBob, Sandy, Patrick, Mr. Krabs, Pearl, Gary Pairing(s): None Genre: Coming of age/ Friendship Word Count: 6, 058 Fic belongs to me.

SpongeBob Musical belongs to Kyle Jarrow (who wrote the book).

SpongeBob © Nickelodeon.

[X-posted from deviantART]

It was supposed to be the quintessential ‘’best day ever’’, like it was every morning. The sun was shining, and the hills were alive with the sound of music. Nothing could possibly ruin this most perfect of perfect days, that is, until SpongeBob spotted a lone grey hair, interloping among his platinum-colored tresses. His first instinct was not to panic. ‘Okay,’ he told himself, ‘No biggie. It’s only one. And hey, silver’s a pretty color, maybe no one will notice since my hair’s so light anyway,’ but when he went to go pluck it, he found another, and yet another, silver wisps upon silver wisps. He felt the color drain from his face, just as the color had from his hair. He tried to remain optimistic, but wasn’t he a little too young to be going grey? Now, at the age of 25, a few grey strands multiplied to what seemed like nearly a hundred, silently taunting him when he looked in the mirror as if to say, “You’re getting old. You’re getting old. You’re getting old.” He had never been one to fear the future. Rather, he looked forward to it. He looked forward to the day he would turn Squidward’s age and look wise and distinguished with all those lines chiseled into his face like the rocky mountains Sandy often spoke of after her trip to New Mexico last summer. Plus, Squidward’s grey scalp looked becoming to his natural sea-green locks. It reminded SpongeBob of fluffy clouds floating over the ocean surface. He looked forward to the day he would turn Mr. Krabs’s age and still look physically fit, with hardly a wrinkle albeit attractive smile lines, and a load full of pepper and salt chest hair. Yes, the older men in his life made him feel excited to grow old. ‘’To grow old,’’ he once remarked to their wrinkled noses, ‘’Would be an awfully big adventure.’’

‘’You have no idea, kid,’’ they both told him, but SpongeBob had to laugh. To his eyes, they both aged gracefully. But then again, he had never known them to be young. He remembered sauntering into Mr. Krabs’s office one day, only to find it empty. Instead, he found an old-fashioned picture frame stuffed into one of the desk drawers, face down. SpongeBob didn’t mean to pry but curiosity got the best of him, and so he lifted the picture frame from its hiding place and wiped away the dust which coated the glass with his sweater. He didn’t immediately recognize the young man in the black and white photo—handsome, with a strong resemblance to Mr. Krabs. It couldn’t have been, could it? SpongeBob remembered removing the photo from its frame and flipping it to the backside, but there was no date. It must have been taken around 1960-something. 1964  or '65 was his wild guess. Mr. Krabs was pictured in a Navy uniform, with inky black hair and a darker complexion than he sported now. He looked almost exotic, like Egyptian. For some reason, it was eerie and haunting. The man who went off to war would never return the same man he left.  Mr. Krabs never talked about it, but SpongeBob heard stories about what kind of man he was when he came home... Pearl’s grandmother had said she didn’t even recognize her own son. But Mr. Krabs seemed happy here, and so unaware of what was to come. The soldier smiled back at him as if he knew of his innocence. He seemed both eager for its loss and nostalgic for those few years of naiveté behind him. Deeper in the drawer, SpongeBob uncovered yet another photograph, this time of Mr. Krabs in full service dress, with his name tag centered on the right breast pocket. He wasn’t smiling in this one. Most soldiers wanted to escape the draft, probably the reason for him not following the rules (his cap was off, and his left hand was in his pocket, a rakish disregard for the regulation that a soldier in war could never, ever stick a hand in his pocket ).  The hand in the pocket was almost a silent rebellion. The pockets that were empty in the photograph would soon bulge with hand grenades, extra ammunition, food, and many of the gross of condoms they were issued before a combat jump. SpongeBob held these photos side-by-side to compare them. One soldier was happy. The other was not. They almost looked like two different people. But they were both Mr. Krabs, taken in a moment of time, months apart. Is this why he had locked them away? Could he not come to terms with his own aging that began in his mere twenties? And then there was Squidward. SpongeBob had visited his neighbor’s Eastern Island home one day only to find him hiding secrets, too. He had a library under the stairs—not nearly as impressive as SpongeBob’s but the porifera couldn’t resist—and when SpongeBob intruded when Squidward wasn’t looking, he found what appeared to be a high school year book on one of the shelves. ‘’Farlingaye High’’ it said on the cover. Inside, he found quite a few surprises. One Polaroid depicted Squidward entering his amateur piece into the school art show—he proudly held it up: a little painting of Neptune-knows-what. His mum stood beside him, beaming at her little artist son. Between her hands, she held his cheap plastic briefcase that carried all his books. It wasn’t a proper grown-up briefcase that a few of the brain-box nerds had inherited from their dads. Squidward had ‘’graffitied’’ his up a bit—but come to think of it, it was still pretty geeky. Squidward looked no different than he did now, except of course he didn’t have crow’s feet, and so SpongeBob couldn’t possibly mistake the identity. He was still tall and lanky, only this time with prominent buckteeth, bespectacled, spotty, and wore braces. He was nerdy but still charming. Actually, he kind of looked like SpongeBob. But something else was different about him. He looked genuinely happy, with the excited look of a child at Christmas in his eyes, an expression of innocent glee that SpongeBob had never seen in the older Squidward. The next Polaroid, with a stain in the right corner, depicted Squidward in a class photo, wearing a blue cardigan that his mother had probably knitted for him, and a shaggy Brady Bunch haircut that was popular at the time. Again, he looked happy. But then in his graduation photo, wearing his honorary cap and gown, his diploma in his hands, he had the all-too familiar stern look he had now. And he was only 18. What happened? ‘’ I hated German,’’ he remembered Squidward saying as he came into the library to find SpongeBob crouched over his yearbook. SpongeBob hurriedly tried to close the book and return it to its proper place, but Squidward didn’t seem to mind so much. He came up beside him and pointed at his young self and said, ‘’It was’t the subject, it was the incredibly dull, dull, dull teacher. I was always getting shouted at and sent out of the class for messing around. I was always mortified having to take that walk of shame to the door. I was such a loser. Y’know, I got picked on all the time.’’ ‘’Is that why you look so unhappy here?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’Yes,’’ Squidward admitted sadly, before realizing his error, and snapped, ‘’I mean no! I was itching to be done with school because, by about 13, I knew I wanted to go off to performing arts college, but I could barely afford it. Looking back, high school only lasted a few years! I should have relaxed and tried to enjoy and get more out of it.’’ And with that, he closed the book and shooed SpongeBob out of the library. He was never allowed to bring up Squidward’s high school days ever again. As SpongeBob studied his grey hairs in the bathroom mirror, he wondered what he would look like in twenty years, fifty. Seeing how rapidly Squidward and Mr. Krabs aged in their youth, when they were supposed to be in the prime of their life, he wondered what he would look like in only a few months from now. Would he forget how to smile? Would he be frowning on his 26th birthday? Was it possible to grow old before he reached 30? He didn’t mind getting old, it was inevitable, but he didn’t want to get old now. He sighed, and walking out of the bathroom, he found Gary sprawled out on his side on the bed, completely content. ‘’Gary, can I ask you an honest question?’’ The snail rustled, looking annoyed that he had been disturbed from his nap. When he finally focused his eyes on SpongeBob, he said, ‘’Do you think I look…old?’’ Gary took one look at him and replied with a sarcastic, ‘’Meow.’’ SpongeBob frowned. ‘’Gee, thanks. You’re a real pal.’’                                                                               *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’ I’m only 25! I found my first grey hair and I might be going bald.’’ SpongeBob complained as Squidward sat him down in a chair. ‘’Congratulations, you’re turning into me,’’ Squidward grumbled. ‘’You lost your hair at my age?’’ SpongeBob gasped. Squidward continued to stare at SpongeBob, not amused, then pointed to his hair, which, despite a receding hairline, he mostly still had. ‘’Gracious me, now where did all my hair go?’’ ‘’Did you check between your legs? That’s where most of my hair is.’’ Squidward slapped his forehead at such disbelief. ‘’You’re such a twit.’’ The boy shrugged. ‘’I dunno. I thought maybe it was a toupee.’’ ‘’Then yank on it.’’ SpongeBob did, reaching out to grab fist fulls of Squidward’s hair to see if it was really attached to his scalp, and it must have been, because he yelped, ‘’Ouch, not so hard, you prat!’’ and he shoved SpongeBob away. Yup, it was definitely real. And soft. Synthetic hair wouldn’t be that soft.   ‘’This is awful!’’ SpongeBob began to cry into his hands. ‘’Am I gonna be all white before thirty, Squidward?’’ ‘’Mellow fucking out, SpongeBob,’’ Squidward snapped. ‘’You’re still young. You have your whole life before you.’’ ‘’Before me?’’ he wailed. ‘’No, all is over for me! I’m dying!’’ Squidward rolled his eyes. ‘’I didn’t think you were so vain. Hey, is this the same guy who said growing old would be fun?’’ ‘’Yeah, but…I’m not old. I mean, I didn’t expect to be turning grey until twenty years from now,’’ SpongeBob said, wiping his eyes on his shirt. ‘’Exactly. You’re not old. Look, sometimes you get a few grey hairs here and there, doesn’t mean you’re aging.’’ ‘’Then what’s happening to me?’’ ‘’There’s nothing wrong with you…Well, alright, there’s a million things wrong with you but a grey hair or two is the least of your problems. You’re freaking out over nothing.’’ Squidward approached him, and then with a comb in tow, he parted SpongeBob’s blonde tresses to inspect the so-called ‘’damage’’. After a few moments of brushing through SpongeBob’s hair, he shook his head and said, ‘’Oh yes, this looks very bad.’’ SpongeBob felt his heart sink. ‘’How bad?’’ ‘’Very very. More serious than I thought. Tsk tsk. There’s a few more back here you didn’t catch. You poor ol’ chap. I suppose your entire head will be all white before thirty.’’ SpongeBob clutched his chest and moaned in fright at such dreadful news. But then he heard Squidward laughing. ‘’What’s so funny?’’ he demanded through the tears welling in his eyes. ‘’I’m just messing with you!’’ Squidward chuckled. ‘’Aside from a few grey strands, your head looks completely fine. Blonde as ever. And you’re not going bald, you have enough hair to make a wig for a grape!’’ SpongeBob stood from his chair and punched Squidward in the chest. He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, not now in a time like this when he really needed his help. ‘’Oh c’mon, SpongeBob, it was a joke!’’ Squidward tried to reason, but SpongeBob wasn’t having it. ‘’If you’re not going to help me, I’ll find someone who will,’’ SpongeBob proclaimed as he made his way to the door. ‘’Can’t you see I’m ailing? You know what, Squid, you’re so full of—‘’ ‘’Alright!’’ Squidward cut him off. ‘’No need to get nasty. I’ll just cut the greys, and give you some coloring if you want. It’s what I use.’’ This didn’t ease SpongeBob’s worries. ‘’I’m going to have to color my own hair?’’ ‘’Look, it’s not going to turn grey overnight. Those few follicles that lost their pigment won’t affect the surrounding hairs. At most, those are the only grey hairs you’ll have for awhile. As you get older, it’ll get more grey. You’ll most likely still be blonde at thirty. It’s a gradual change, SpongeBob. You get used to it.’’ ‘’Were you greying at my age?’’ Squidward sighed. ‘’Younger than you, actually. In my late teens. You’re lucky. At least you’re almost thirty, in five years. For me, it was over by thirty. It runs in the family. My cousin’s been coloring her hair since she was twenty-two. I used to wonder what propelled my mother to keep her hair dark brown at sixty, when it long ago decided it wanted to be white at twenty-eight. But I’m just as guilty as her now. Truth is, it has very little to do with fear of aging and a lot more to do with an unwillingness to look and, some might say, act my age. I’m one of those people frequently mistaken for someone much younger, and I admit I like it. So sue me.’’ SpongeBob looked at Squidward’s glorious head of hair and couldn’t blame him. Aside from sporting a white skunk stripe down the middle, you couldn’t even tell he had been coloring his hair all these years, nor could you tell he was grey under all that natural looking turquoise. He didn’t even look old, even if he had kept his hair grey. SpongeBob came back to his chair and let Squidward cut out the grey hairs before the older man sent him home with hair dye and pre-shampoo conditioner to keep the coarse, wiry grey hairs moisturized and smooth when they grew back. SpongeBob was grateful to Squidward, but at the same time, he didn’t know if he was ready to start all the daily hair treatments of his 45-year-old neighbor. ‘Well,’ he thought, trying to cheer himself up, ‘I always did think we were something like brothers, but this isn’t quite what I had in mind.’ He began to fear the worst: What if he checked into a retirement home the same day as Squidward, while his younger looking, more vital friends—with their beautiful, un-grey hair—had to pay him burdensome visits? If people remarked that Squidward looked exceptionally young for his age, he wondered if he would begin to look too old for his age. Time for a second opinion.                                                                                  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’Did I ever find a grey hair?’’ Patrick echoed the question as he tread into the kitchen for another grape soda. SpongeBob followed behind him, waiting for an answer. After Patrick opened a soda and handed it to SpongeBob he said, ‘’Nope, can’t say I ever had. But if I ever found a green hair, well, that’s a different story.’’ He opened another soda, took a sip, then continued, ‘’I tried to dye my hair blue once. It turned green for some reason. Or was it lilac? Actually, what is lilac? Is that, like, yellow?’’ ‘’Purple,’’ SpongeBob explained. ‘’Lilac’s purple, Patrick.’’ ‘’Purple Patrick, maybe that was it. Hey, I didn’t know there was a color named after me!’’ In spite of himself, SpongeBob had to laugh. Patrick always found a way to cheer him up. ‘’Yeah, no, about my question…so like, never ever?’’ ‘’What was the question again?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’ ‘’No, you.’’ ‘’Got it.’’ And Patrick took another lengthy chug from his soda, nearly emptying it. SpongeBob waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He seemed to have forgotten what they were even talking about. ‘’Patrick?’’ ‘’Yeah?’’ ‘’Well?’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’Did you?’’ ‘’Did I what?’’ ‘’Find a grey hair?’’ He blinked, registering the question for a moment, then he suddenly seemed to comprehend. ‘’Oh right. No, I don’t think so.’’ ‘’Positive?’’ ‘’Affirmative. I mean, you can look if you want. Don’t think you’ll find anything.’’ With that, he bowed his head as low as possible, but SpongeBob still couldn’t reach so he grabbed a nearby chair and stood on top of it. But Patrick was right. As he sifted through his cotton-candy quiff, he didn’t see one hint of a silver strand. It was all beautifully bubble gum pink. SpongeBob felt a little jealous. Patrick was 28, and he hadn’t a single sign of greying anytime soon. He would probably still have pink hair at Mr. Krabs’s age. He sighed, and hopped off the chair. Patrick noticed his sour mood and asked, ‘’What’s wrong? It’s lice, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Huh? No, your hair looks fine. Great, actually.’’ ‘’Then what is it?’’ He rubbed his arm, and said, ‘’I...found a few grey hairs this morning.’’ ‘’Seriously? But you’re like, a baby!’’ Patrick joked. But SpongeBob wasn’t laughing. ‘’I’m serious.’’ ‘’Don’t worry about it, buddy. Sandy will know what to do,’’ he said, patting SpongeBob on the back. Sandy, of course. Why didn’t he think of it before? With that, he stood on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Patrick’s forehead, but he couldn’t reach, so he kissed him on the cheek instead. ‘’Patrick, you’re a genius!’’ And he rushed to the door, but not fast enough in time, for he could hear Patrick angrily remarking as he left, ‘’What did I say?! Just ‘cause you’re turning old, don’t take it out on me! I was just trying to help! You know what, SpongeBob? Screw you! You’re a genius, and it’s showing too!‘’                                                                              *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’Stress, genetics, B-12 deficiency…a lot of reasons people turn grey in their twenties,’’ Sandy explained. ‘’ When your body stops producing melanin, a pigment found in the hair follicle, your hair goes grey. Another factor that may contribute to grey hair is the buildup of hydrogen peroxide in the hair. As you grow older, the enzyme catalase that breaks down hydrogen peroxide diminishes. This leaves your hair bleached by hydrogen peroxide. But here’s what not to do: don’t pluck it. You’ll just go bald from all that trauma to your scalp. Use non-ammonia based color. All those chemicals ain’t healthy. Nutritionally focus on protein at breakfast and lunch—available energy to hair tissue is lowest in the morning, did you know that?--, keep hydrated and choose healthy snacks like yogurt, nuts and fruits. You can do all this, SpongeBob, but everyone’s different. You might be going prematurely grey and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is accept yourself and move on.’’ ‘’Squidward said it’s a slow change, is that true?’’ ‘’He’s right, I reckon,’’ she nodded. ‘’Why? Did he share with you a ‘going grey’ story?’’ SpongeBob just chewed his bottom lip, which caused Sandy to burst out in a hearty laugh. ‘’Hah! I knew he colored his hair!’’ ‘’Is that bad?’’ ‘’Nah,’’ she snorted. ‘’Half the population probably does. Y’know, I just thought of something funnier than all that.’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’ Caucasians begin to grey in their mid-30’s, Asians in their late 30’s and African Americans in their 40’s, according to a 2011 research analysis published in The Dermatologist. On average, 50 percent of the population will have 50 percent grey hair by the age of 50. Gender seems to play a role as well: Men start greying closer to 30, while women begin to notice grey hairs around 35. So don’t worry about it. Even if you turn grey sooner than all’s the rest of us, give us five more years, and we’ll be greying together.’’ With that, she slapped her knee. She thought it was a riot, but SpongeBob failed to see the humor in all this. ‘’Patrick’s a little older than me, and he hasn’t found his first silvery strand yet,’’ SpongeBob admitted sadly. ‘’Everybody’s different,’’ she shrugged. ‘’But if you’re worried about your mortality, your hair’s got nothing to do with it. You’ll live long, still. You’re a sponge, for crying out loud.’’                                                                               *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * He hoped Sandy was right, but as he left her Treedome, he wondered if he would ever be able to accept himself someday with a head full of grey or white hair. Would he be like Squidward’s mother, and continue to color his hair well into his sixties? It was a ridiculous thought, having blonde hair at that age. But as he bumped into Mr. Krabs on his way to the Krusty Krab, he realized maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous. Mr. Krabs was about 70, he realized, and he sported bright red hair. But then SpongeBob suddenly recalled the old photograph of Mr. Krabs in his navy uniform, and though the picture wasn’t in color, his hair looked too dark back then to be red, or even a burnt auburn. Did he…? ‘’Boyo, didn’t see ya there!’’ Mr. Krabs bellowed. ‘’Hey, Mr. Krabs,’’ he solemnly smiled. ‘’Say, can I ask you something?’’ Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes into slits and scrutinized SpongeBob like a fly on the wall. ‘’If you’re asking me permission to take out me darlin’, beautiful daughter, a teenager, mind, on a date—‘’ ‘’What? No, Mr. Krabs, I—‘’ But the expression on the retired vet’s face quickly changed into a friendly smile, and he rustled SpongeBob’s hair with his meaty claw to show he meant well. ‘’I’m just joshin’, lad, relax! Should’ve seen the look on yer face! Got ya, didn’t I?’’ and he chuckled his familiar sailor’s laugh. ‘’Yeah. Heh. You got me,’’ SpongeBob tried to laugh along. ‘’Look, Mr. Krabs, I just—‘’ But Mr. Krabs wasn’t listening. He got that look in his eyes that he often did when he thought of a brilliant business venture. SpongeBob knew it all too well, because he titled his head back and rubbed his chin in deep thought. ‘’Come to think of it, that’s not a half bad idea. Could get Pearly outta me hair for a few hours. That is, if ya don’t mind.’’ ‘’Sure, whatever, but—‘’ ‘’She’s been drivin’ me crazy, that kid! Y’know how much the phone bill was this month? Calling and texting! I swear, she’s as bad as her grandmother, she’s got that phone growing right outta her ear! I caught her talkin’ to some friend at two in the mornin’! Two! What’s with kids these days?’’ ‘’It’s a mystery,’’ SpongeBob agreed. ‘’Look, can I ask you—‘’ But Mr. Krabs cut him off again. ‘’She’s eatin’ me outta house and home! I can’t wait till she finds a nice man to settle down with and move out. Well, truth be told it breaks me heart to think of it. You try to hold them as long as you can, but then a day comes when they don’t want to be around you no more. SpongeBob, never have children. You’ll live longer. I’ve been going grey since the day she was born.’’ ‘’That’s what I want to ask you about.’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly snapped his head towards SpongeBob as a dark look crossed him. ‘’You’re poppin’ me the question, ain’t ya, laddy?’’ ‘’Huh? What are you even talking about?’’ Mr. Krabs slung a strong arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. ‘’You’re a nice kid, SpongeBob. I’ve always thought of you as the son I never had. But I don’t know if you’re right for Pearl. No offense. So before you ask, I just have to say one thing: you’re already part of the family, and if you think marrying me daughter is going to get you that promotion, then think again. Because family or no family, you’re just not manager material!’’ SpongeBob blinked, and then shook his head. ‘’It’s not about Pearl.’’ Instead of growing relieved, this seemed to anger Mr. Krabs even more. ‘’What? Now you’re saying you’re too good for me daughter?’’ ‘’No, Pearl’s fine, it’s just—‘’ ‘’Just fine, eh?’’ ‘’She’s great, okay?’’ ‘’She’s pretty, right? Prettiest in all the seven seas?’’ ‘’Yes, absolutely!’’ ‘’So you do fancy her?!’’ Finally, SpongeBob had to push against the crab’s chest to knock some sense into him. ‘’Mr. Krabs, will you just listen to me!?’’ ‘’You’re not poppin’ the question?’’ ‘’No.’’ ‘’What is it, kiddo?’’ Mr. Krabs inquired, finally calming down. ‘’Well, you see…you dye your hair, right?’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly looked self-aware and his claws went instinctively to his head. ‘’What makes you say that?’’ ‘’Well…don’t get mad at me…but a long time ago, I saw this picture in your desk…’’ ‘’Oh, that one. Well, the cat was bound to come outta the bag sooner or later.’’ ‘’So…you went grey after the war?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’It was a few years after the war, actually, but yes, eventually I greyed at fifty.’’ ‘’That’s normal, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Sure, but I didn’t want me old Navy buddies to see how much I aged. And so I tried to find a dye that matched me natural color, with no luck. Me hair, SpongeBob, was a dark oak brown back in the day. Hard to believe, no? At least I wasn’t balding, but me friends still had dark hair at me age and I felt ashamed. So I holed up on a small Greek island, hoping that I’d be able to find au nat-ur-al hair color. Turns out that the only Greek colorings available were all unnatural hues of red.’’ ‘’Didn’t your friends say anything?’’ ‘’Nah. Me new red hair blended in with me claws so much, they forgot how dark I used to be. Why’re you asking me all this anyhow?’’ ‘’Oh,’’ SpongeBob smiled, ‘’No reason.’’ Mr. Krabs wasn’t so sure he believed him, but decided not to ask any more questions. ‘’So you’re picking up me daughter at eight and bringing her back no later than 9:30.’’ It wasn’t a request, it was a command. ‘’Take her somewhere fun, and make sure she throws out that damn shell phone!’’                                                                                *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * Maybe it was common for forty-somethings to dye their hair, and though he didn’t mind coloring well into Squidward’s age, he didn’t know if he could keep that up until his seventies. If Mr. Krabs was still dyeing his hair at his age, SpongeBob wondered if he would ever be able to escape. When do you stop? He was reminded of a dinner party a few months ago, when he, Patrick and Squidward decided to have a date, only for Squidward to crash the party. He kept complaining about how lonely and depressed he was, and when SpongeBob asked him why, his response was, ‘’Have you ever had to bury your own mother at 24?’’ He deeply sighed and lamented how he wished he knew how to die. SpongeBob and Patrick of course dismissed such talk, as this wasn’t unusual for Squidward, but his words haunted SpongeBob in that very moment. Squidward didn’t know how to stop what had been started. That’s kind of how SpongeBob felt now about obsessing over his greying hair. No one tells you how—or when—you’re supposed to stop. Intellectually, he knew there would  be a day when he would no longer color his hair. But how do you know when that day is? Will it be when his children go off to college? After his youngest child’s wedding? At the birth of his first grandchild? Or would he be the little old man in the nursing home who, with his last dying breath, demanded that the hair colorist be brought in for a final touchup? He shivered at the thought. And here he always regarded the two men he looked up to the most, Squidward and Mr. Krabs, as having aged gracefully. But they were as obsessed with their own mortality and vanity as SpongeBob was now at 25. He didn’t want to be like that forever, especially not at their age. All that stress would cause him to grey faster. And so as he went to pick up Pearl that night from the Krabs’ residence, he knew a teenage girl may be his last hope. Squidward and Mr. Krabs’s ‘’going grey’’ stories only made him feel ridiculous. A young man such as himself shouldn’t be trying to make himself look younger as though he were 45 or 70, going through a pre-existential crisis. Patrick’s grey-free locks—at 28—only made him feel envious. And Sandy’s cut and dry briefing didn’t help much either. He didn’t need lectures or experiences to help him through this. He just needed to let loose. He was about to knock on the door when it opened for him, and there stood Pearl in the doorway looking stunning as ever. Her dark hair, which was usually elaborately coiffed at the side of her head, was now pulled back into a bun with a pink bow to tie it in place. She wore an off-the-shoulder sweater over a sundress, plum in color, her long skirt ruffling in the light breeze. A silver bracelet danced on her wrist as she raised her arm to greet him. It matched her gold lipstick. As she looked into his eyes and gave him an innocent, childish smile suitable for a six-year-old, especially with that beauty mark at the top corner of her lip, all the breath left his body. ‘’Hi, SpongeBob,’’ she said. ‘’Um, hi.’’ He was surprised he could still speak. Pearl was just a kid, but she was growing up fast. Mr. Krabs suddenly interrupted them, appearing behind his daughter. ‘’Remember, have her back no later than 9:30, or I’ll make sure you never grill a single Krabby Patty for the rest of yer miserable life.’’ ‘’Daddy, stop embarrassing me,’’ Pearl teased, and kissed him on the nose before she stepped out onto the porch. SpongeBob suddenly felt underdressed in his blazer and khakis. He wasn’t even wearing dress shoes. ‘’Make sure she has the best time of her life or yer fired!’’ Mr. Krabs exclaimed before closing the door.     ‘’He doesn’t mean it. You know he’ll never fire you,’’ she reassured him. ‘’I know,’’ he said. ‘’Um, I don’t drive, so we have to walk…if that’s alright. Or we can take the city bus.’’ ‘’Walking’s fine. It’s nice tonight, huh?’’ and she stepped off the porch, waiting for him to follow. ‘’Say, I’m going for my boating license soon. If I get mine before the next date, we can take a drive down at the beach.’’ Next date? He hoped she didn’t think they were going steady, or was only using him to impress her friends because she had a 25-year-old ‘’boyfriend’’. He hoped she knew this was just a favor for her father, although he liked her well enough, but truthfully, she was just too young. Once they got to ground level, SpongeBob realized she wasn’t wearing her usual platform sneakers, but instead, she was wearing flats, perhaps in an attempt to make him feel taller and less awkward. ‘’So where’re taking me?’’ she asked, as she fished for her shell phone in her purse and began to text someone. He eyed her, hoping she wouldn’t be more interested in the phone than in him through the course of the night. ‘’Sssh,’’ she said, putting a finger to her lips when she noticed his look, ‘’Daddy tried to hide my phone but that’s why I always keep a spare. If he finds out I have this, I’m grounded until I graduate college.’’ SpongeBob shrugged. ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t.’’ She laughed. ‘’I always thought you were weird, but you’re kinda cool, SpongeBob.’’ He laughed too, and for the first time all day, he forgot about his dilemma. He looked at Pearl again, in her Maybelline cat eye, and avant-garde chandelier earrings, and wondered if she would ever worry about aging. She didn’t seem to worry about anything. Even though most teenagers never thought too far down the road—he knew at Pearl’s age, he didn’t; he never thought he would ever get old—she didn’t seem the type to develop a keen appreciation of head scarves to hide eventual hair loss, and who would learn the lesson of never traveling without an emergency box of hair color. ‘’Hey, Pearl—‘’ She closed her phone and excitedly remarked, ‘’So I just texted my friend and she said there’s this swanky new joint in town, some new Tiki bar that just opened up! Wanna go?’’ ‘’You’re not the legal drinking age,’’ he pointed out. ‘’I’ll get in trouble if—‘’ ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t,’’ she shrugged. She grabbed him by the hand and they walked towards the direction of the bar. ‘’So, SpongeBob, you were going to ask me something?’’ ‘’Um, yeah. I just…see…it’s complicated…’’ he stopped in his tracks, and when she tried to pull him, he wouldn’t budge. ‘’Who died?’’ she asked. ‘’My hair.’’ ‘’Your hair?’’ ‘’I found a grey hair this morning.’’ She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘’Rough. Hey, aren’t you only 25?’’ ‘’Yeah.’’ She approached him and, with a mischievous grin, she lightly poked his chest. ‘’Oh c’mon, you’re SpongeBob, you’re, like, supposed to be the happiest dude in Bikini Bottom! Do you think one little grey hair is gonna get him down?’’ SpongeBob looked at her, trying to smile, but it pained him to do so. ‘’I’m not always as happy as everyone thinks. I was like you yesterday. So full of life. Now I know how Squidward feels. Someday, it’s all over.’’ ‘’Nothing lasts forever,’’ Pearl said. ‘’If it did, they’d make permanent lipstick that didn’t fade throughout the day, am I right? But you don’t see me crying about it. That’s what the powder room’s for.’’ ‘’Yeah, I guess you’re right.’’ ‘’Let me tell you a story.’’ He sighed. ‘’I think I’ve heard enough today.’’ ‘’No, just listen. See, when I was a little girl I used to love playing with my grandma’s hair. It was pure white, like snow. I thought it was so pretty. I asked her, ‘Grandma, when I’m your age, will I have long flowing white hair someday?’ I wanted to know how the world saw her and how she saw herself. I also asked why she decided to stop coloring her hair and was shocked to hear that she never colored in the first place. That generally leads to mental calculations about how many schools could have been built with what people spend in pursuit of avoiding grey hair. The moral of the story is, SpongeBob, my grandma wasn’t ashamed of aging. Once she started going grey, that was it. She just let it happen. I always wanted to be like her. And even though I’m wearing make-up now, I know someday I’ll think it’s silly. All I know is, when I’m old, I’m gonna have white hair, and rock it like there’s no tomorrow. Who cares what people think? In my opinion, I think it’s childishly stupid that my dad doesn’t let his hair grey naturally. I think he looks better grey, the handsomest man in this little town.’’ She playfully nudged his shoulder when she finished. He listened to her story, and realized she was right. It’s going to happen someday. You can’t avoid it forever. Might as well throw caution to the wind, and whatever happens, happens. He smiled. He couldn’t believe he was taking advice from a 16-year-old girl, but she had a profound wisdom beneath all that typical adolescence. ‘’You know what, Pearl? You’re right.’’ ‘’Amen, lil’ brother!’’ she laughed, and held up a hand for a high-five. He returned the gesture and said, ‘’Amen, lil’ sister.’’                                                                                Fin