- * SpongeBob *
- * I'm off to summer camp *
- * SpongeBob *
- * Through nature I will tramp *
- * SpongeBob will have you screaming *
- * While milk is streaming right out of your nose *
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa!
Ahh! Ahh!
* *
- * SpongeBob *
- * When nature's calling *
* You'll see me hauling *
* I'm hitting the trail *
- Hello and welcome, all you snot-nosed campers
to Midnight Frights,
Kamp Koral's Annual Spooky Story Night.
Now, who'd like to hear
some scary stories?
- Ha, they're already scared. What babies!
- Well, maybe they have good reason to be scared.
- Wait, what? Why? - Huh?
- Ha. I ain't afraid. Bring on the scary stories.
* *
- Did I hear someone say scary stories?
This is gonna be good.
* *
Yuck!
Who put popcorn in me spiders? Ew.
- My dreadful tale takes place
one dark and stormy night
when I was all alone in my cabin.
Agitated by the thunder, I needed to calm my nerves.
So, I decided to play a solo game
of "Lizards, Wizards, and Gizzards."
I rolled a one. So, I moved one space.
And landed on go back one space.
And then I rolled another one.
I moved my wizard forward,
then back again and rolled another one.
I moved my wizard and rolled another one.
Then another one.
Over and over, roll after roll.
I was stuck in a loop.
Was I losing my mind?
* *
Was this black magic?
Ooh.
- Hey, Patrick. You know what this story needs?
For the power to go out right about now.
- Ooh! -
- Oh yeah!
And an escaped fiend should be pounding on the door.
- Excuse me. This is my story.
- We're just trying to help.
- Yeah, your story needed some punching up.
- Where was I? Oh, yes.
The rolling of the ones.
Some sinister supernatural force
had taken control of my dice.
I screamed in horror
to the evil that had possessed my dice.
Be gone!
But to no avail.
Each roll only landed on one.
One! One!
- What in Blackbeard's bloomers was that?
One, one, one? Lame. Lame. Lame.
- You might think that a person of means
such as myself wouldn't have a horror story.
But you'd be wrong. There was one summer in camp
when I woke up in the middle of the night hungry.
- Hungry? SpongeBob, now I'm really scared
- Here, this should help. - Thanks.
I don't like the eyes.
- As I was saying, I woke up hungry
in the middle of the night and rang for the butler.
But the butler didn't answer. What happened to the butler?
Something sinister no doubt.
I walked toward the service kitchen.
Every step filled me with dread.
I'd never been in the kitchen and I didn't know.
Oh, I didn't want to know what I'd find there.
- Here you go. -
- You shouldn't go in there alone.
- This fog should help with the atmosphere.
- Do you mind?
- Not at all. You're doing great.
- I have notes. -
- Once I was in the kitchen, the fear continued.
How do I make a sandwich? How many pieces of bread?
I didn't know.
And what goes on a sandwich anyway?
Kelp pate?
How many kelps were murdered to make this pate?
Their spirits might be angry.
Then, everywhere I turned, there were sharp,
deadly objects pointed right at me.
- Sharp, deadly objects, huh?
- Now we're cooking.
- Sharp, deadly objects like forks, spoons,
and butter knives.
- Butter knives? That's not scary. Boo!
- Boo!
- And then from the corner of my eye, I saw them.
Half one thing and half another.
Unholy hybrids. Freaks of nature.
How did they get in my cabin?
I didn't want to look but I couldn't help myself.
There, standing upright in the dish rack
there were...
sporks!
* *
- I thought a fork and spoon was a foon.
- Sporks?
What's with these camp counselors?
Their kids should be wetting their bloomers by now.
It looks like this candy-pants campfire
needs a visit from a real master of hair-raising horror!
Little old me!
- Alright, listen up you welter weights.
Larry is gonna tell you a tale that will curl your dumb bells.
- Look!
* *
Good thing I got a green thumb.
* *
- Looks like we're a captive audience.
- We sure as sugar don't have anything like this
back in Texas.
* *
- Yo, bro. Not cool. It was my turn to tell a story.
- Well, if it isn't Kamp Koral's
biggest athletic supporter.
And what was your scary story, lobster roll?
Someone not wipe down the gym equipment after using it?
- Yeah. How did you know?
- Mommy.
- I hope you find my stories scary,
the first one stars a lobster named Larry.
* *
- Uh, uh, uh, uh!
I just remembered, I forgot to hydrate my gluteus maximus.
Whoa. Where am I?
Oh, my cabin. Okay.
What's this?
Happy Birthday to everyone's favorite hunk.
Aw. They didn't have to do that.
It's the most beautiful piece of gym equipment
I've ever seen.
Oh, yeah. I can really feel the burn.
* *
Oh yeah! I'm getting j-j-j-jacked, baby.
Larry is getting huge.
Larry is a monster.
No pain, no gain!
* *
Ooh!
Good Neptune, it hurts!
My sore muscles sure could use a soak.
Huh?
Is this butter?
- I see food! Ha! Get it? Sea food?
- What are you gonna do? Eat me?
- Though most folks love the rich,
juicy flavor of lobster meat. I prefer the shell.
Ha!
- What? Dude.
- Dipped in butter. - But I need that.
You can't leave me like this.
I'm all soft and buttery.
No. No!
* *
- Earned me first demerit badge.
- It's Larry. Larry's on the patch.
- You two can hit the showers.
Well, how's that for a scary story?
- It didn't really live up to the hype.
- I've read scarier stories in third-rate comic books.
- Comic books, eh?
Well, here's a tale that has no class.
It's about your counselor, Bubble Bass.
- Huh? I would like to retract my last criticism if I may.
Parlay. Parlay!
- Oh, what?
And I paid for extra high speed wicked Wi-Fi.
That's better.
Or should I say that's worse.
- Hm. What? How'd I get here? Hm.
By the Hanging Wizards of Mocklock.
Ugh. It smells like boiling vomit.
* *
I've been befouled.
Huh?
Whoa! I can fly!
* *
I wonder if...
I have superpowers.
I'm a--a superhero.
I need a costume.
* *
Finally, it is done.
Behold world, it is I, Captain Counselor!
* *
For years, I was laughed at and called a nerd
for my love of superheroes.
Wait till the campers see me and my super powers now.
The meteor affected everyone in camp, not just me.
- Hey, what's with the outfit? Is it Halloween?
- I think they're his superhero jammies.
- Ooh.
- What's the C stand for? Clown Man?
- Captain Cornball?
-Caboose Man? -Compost Man?
- Oh yes, quite amusing.
But maybe perhaps you'd like to join me
in my league of superheroes?
- Superheroes? We ain't superheroes.
- Yeah, we're supervillains.
* *
- No. No!
* *
- Nice.
- It's Bubble Bass.
Bubble Bass is on the patch!
- Enjoy your nerdmares.
My next story, you all will learn,
stars your rich counselor, Missy Upturn.
- Oh, no. I'll give you $1 billion to let me go.
- I'm a ghost. I have no use for money.
- Then how about credit?
You can't see it. You can't feel it.
It's ghost money.
You could upgrade that broken-down tub of yours
for a luxury yacht. - Ooh.
Ghost money? I like that.
- I just opened an unlimited line of credit
for you at my daddy's bank. - Ah.
Ooh!
Ah!
Would you look at me? Master and commander.
All right, you don't get a scary story.
- Ho, ho! Yes.
- But you still get to be a patch.
- See ya in therapy!
And what are you laughing at?
- We were laughing because you were laughing.
- Well, quit it!
My next yarn is strange, even absurd,
cause this tale's about counselor Squidward.
Where's Squidward?
- Oh, he vamoosed.
- Amscrayed.
- Skedaddled.
- Well, how'd he get away? - Looks like ink.
- Feels like ink.
- Tastes like ink!
- I can't tell his scary story without him here.
Man, that ruins my whole night!
- Whelp, being a squirrel of science,
I don't believe in ghosts.
But what I've seen here tonight is totally messed up!
- And I was saving my scariest story for last.
Why do I even bother?
Hey, where'd you--
- How do you turn this on?
- Hey, you! Get off of my cloud!
So, you kids wanna be in a scary story, huh?
- Not really, no. I guess I've grown out of that kid stuff.
- I'm just jaded. - Kid stuff? Jaded?
All right, here's something all kids are afraid of.
Being in trouble.
- Where are we?
- We're in Campmaster Krabs' office.
Patrick, why are we here?
Are we in trouble?
- I don't know. This axe with our fingerprints
could have something to do with it.
- And that axe probably goes along with this severed head
of lettuce that we must have taken from the canteen.
Campmaster Krabs? Is that you?
Is something wrong?
- Oh, don't worry.
It's nothing serious!
Yay!
- * Clown clowny clown clown ♪
- He's funny.
- I am not funny. I'm scary!
* *
- Ow!
* *
- Looks like those clowning lessons we took
really paid off.
* *
They say dead men tell no tales
but I'm gonna have a whopper to tell after tonight.
I don't know how you two fish gizzards got the best of me.
- Oh, it was a snap.
- No! Don't snap your fingers.
- You mean like this?
- Where am I? What happened?
Ah. Oh, no! This is my biggest fear!
I'm ten years old and back in summer camp!
- Look at Dutch Boy. What a cute little pirate.
- Avast!
You two scalawags are worse than any freebooters
I've ever had the misfortune to meet.
- He doesn't know how to snap his fingers yet.
Keep trying, Dutchy. You'll get it.
- I wanna go home! I wanna plunder!
I want my mommy!
- Oh, everybody feels that way about camp at first.
You'll soon forget all about plundering.
We're gonna have so much fun.
* *
- Ha-ha!
* *
- You still gotta eat it. Camp rules.
* *
- Oh, if only I could escape this blasted nightmare.
* *
Yeah, I'm back.
- Hey! Congratulations, Dutchy.
You learned to snap your fingers.
- And now I'm gonna snap you like a couple of twigs.
Hey, where you going?
- Sorry, Dutch. It's past our bedtimes.
- Yeah, D. Thanks for the scary stories.
Not.
- Oh, we mustn't leave a fire unattended.
* *
- Wait! Let me out first.
No! No! No!
- Dudes, is that a cookout I smell?
- - Oh, SpongeBob. Your shirt.
What the--I've been patched!
No! I hate summer camp!