And so, the story ends in a single emo tear of doom, a week after it began. Many say "thank god", some say "oh no". For the most part I fall on the side of "oh no".
I didn't think I'd have the strength to keep this up and actually complete this hack-fest. Not quite 10,000 words, but close enough. Thanks for motivating me with your reviews, guys. You have the powoh.

Everything hurt.
Understatement. Everything throbbed with pain. Arms, legs, head – even his toes.
Was this supposed to be death?

Was he in hell? Did his one final act of cruelty serve as an automatic escalator to forks poking into his flesh?
Or in heaven? Was the pain, in fact, King Neptune's way of saying "wake up and I'll clean your wounds"?
Worse yet, was he in the peripheral never-region? Neither good, nor bad, not deserving of a place anywhere but painful blackness?

An eye tentatively opened, unsure of what to see.
And instantly shut again, blinded by the whiteness.

Whiteness. White is pure. White is, in death terms, good.
That was it, then. He was in heaven after all. He could relax. Float on a cloud. Whatever it is they do.

"Mr SquarePants?"
An ethereal voice, calling from far away. King Neptune? Is that you?

"Mr SquarePants, wake up."

The same eye opened again, this time taking time to get used to the light. The other quickly joined it, looking around the area, seeing stuff he hadn't seen the first time.

Shades of gray.
A warm blanket.
A life support machine.

Not in Heaven after all. Pity.

"Mr SquarePants?"
SpongeBob would have turned to the person saying this, had he had the energy to move. As it was, he could only manage a quiet "where am I?"
"No, don't talk. You've suffered a lot of damage to your voice box. Actually," said what he now knew was the fish doctor, "I'm amazed you're still alive."

He could see better now; his location more obvious. He'd been here before –the recovery ward of Bikini Bottom Hospital. However, some things still eclipsed his vision, like the state of his body and neck, or the X-Rays up on the wall.
Somehow, this was a good thing. He couldn't bear to look at himself. It would only serve as a harsh reminder of…however many hours ago it was now.

"W-what t…"
"You were unconscious for about five hours when we found you."
Five hours…it took five hours for him to be rescued?
"I'm sorry, but do you know how hard it is to save somebody when you have no idea that they're dying?" snapped the doctor, as if reading his patient's mind. "It's a miracle that I happened to be looking for a case at the time."

Snatched from the jaws of death by a willing doctor. No doubt the hospital would get a medal for this.

Still, one question burnt in SpongeBob's head. A pressing query that could possibly salvage his present situation.
"Wh-what about—" he started croaking.
But the doctor was still having none of it; "I said don't talk! Do you want to damage your voice box more than it is already?"
A visible flinch from the bed-ridden sponge was enough to make him soften, however. "Sorry about that. It's eight in the morning. I haven't had any coffee yet. Damn hygiene regulations."

"B-but wh…what about…S-Squidward?" Finally, a coherent sentence choked out. "Wh-where is he?"
"I thought I just told you not to do that, kid," the doctor scolded.
"(cough) But…"
"Besides, Mr Tentacles is not my responsibility. Why would you want to know where he is anyway? According to DNA sampling, he very nearly killed you."

"But (hack) did I…very nearly k-kill him? P-please…where is he?"

A pause as his plea hung over the room.

Then, a sigh. "I didn't want to have to be the one to tell you this," muttered the good doctor. "I mean, you've suffered so mu--"
"I know I ha-have. But I-it's not gonna get any worse. I…I can take it."

"By the time I found you, Mr Tentacles was already dead. I'm sorry."

Two weeks later, a broken poriferan emerged from the hospital. Well, not broken as such; his throat wounds had healed somewhat, and no bones had been smashed in what was fast becoming known as the House Party Massacre.
But what little was left of his soul was ruined beyond repair.

His closest friends. The people he knew and trusted the most. His pet, his boss, his best friend forever. All dead, all gone, leaving the blood on his hands, in his throat.

All he had to do was to stop the party, and he hadn't even done that.
Now lives were hanging over his head. Never to depart.

He spent the next few days visiting all the places his friends had held dear. Sandy's treedome, bless her, inventions gathering dust. The rusty anchor that used to be the Krabs residence, empty and foreboding. Patrick's rock, Squidward's Island Head, even the Krusty Krab.

That last one was a mistake. People expected him to resume his duties, make more Krabby Patties despite all he had lost, take over and assume position as Inheritor of Restaurant. But he had to let everyone down this time. The pain would have been too much, and besides, Krabby Patties were obsolete now. Just as Squidward had predicted, without the cannibalistic aspect the formula didn't work.

So he let everyone down. Something that he'd grown accustomed to.

The only place he made definitely sure to avoid was his own home. He couldn't go back to the scene of the crime.
It would only make him hurt more.
Just hurt, though. Not cry. He had no tears left.

Poppy Puff didn't really question it when SpongeBob asked her if he could sit in a boat for a while. She really should have done; after all, SpongeBob and boats equated instant disaster, but he had gone through so much that she let him without a second thought.

And so he sat in the boat, engine running, but not going anywhere. Roof up, all windows and doors shut bar a gap in the window closest to the steering wheel.

Through this window, a hosepipe tentatively poked its head.
A hosepipe connected to the exhaust.

And just because he could, not only did said exhaust carry the carbon monoxide that would aid SpongeBob in his unprecedented suicide; certain 'ingredients' scooped up from the cemetery were mixed in as well.

SpongeBob died breathing in the blood of his friends.
In a strange way, Squidward, even from beyond the grave, had gotten his wish.

Today, if you visit Bikini Bottom Cemetery (not that you do, the town having been rendered obsolete after his death), you can see two tombstones side by side, just off the entrance.

The first simply says "Squidward Tentacles, RIP". A simple message for a mixed-up man.

The second is larger, more poetic.

"Here Rests
SpongeBob SquarePants

The Body to His Left
Killed Him
Long Before He Killed Himself."

~Fin~