What Does 'See You Next Tuesday' Mean In SpongeBob?

On our wedding day, my bride insists on wearing an old, beat-up watch with the million-dollar wedding dress I buy her. I call off the wedding on the spot. She looks at me in shock. "You called off the wedding just because of a watch?" I take out the divorce agreement and tell her to sign. "Yes. Because of that watch." Everyone calls me crazy. They cannot believe I would end a ten-year relationship over something so worthless and file for divorce in front of everyone. Dad walks up and slaps me across the face. "Get on your knees, you disgrace." My mother-in-law shrieks that I have ruined her daughter's future by returning her like damaged goods. I look at the watch on her wrist, which is stopped at 3:07, and I smile. Then, I phone my assistant. "It's time. Release everything. I want a divorce."

My mother was dying. Her only wish before she passed was to see me married. For 27 days, I begged my girlfriend, Monica Teller, and she finally agreed to register for marriage with me on the 27th day. I waited at the courthouse until closing, but she never came. That same day, her childhood sweetheart, Gurney Barnes, posted their marriage certificate on social media. [Time sure flies. Three more days, and we'll have been married for a month.] It was then I finally realized that she had married her childhood sweetheart since the first day I started begging her. Not long after, an apology text from Monica buzzed on my phone. [I'm so sorry, Lincoln. Gurney's family was forcing him into marriage. I couldn't stand by and watch him get shackled to a stranger. Just give it three days. We'll file for divorce. Three days later, I'll marry you." Three days later, she showed up at the courthouse in a wedding gown, But the only thing waiting for her was my message. [Goodbye, Monica. May we never meet again.]

Right in the middle of the workday, my coworker, Stanley Graham, suddenly jumps up and slaps me on the shoulder. "Next week is Mr. Todd's birthday. Since your family runs a seafood restaurant, I'll tell you what—I'll chip in 99 bucks to treat the whole department at your place to celebrate!" He starts counting dishes on his fingers. "We need lobster and king crab. The fish has to be a fresh-killed red snapper. Don't skimp on the appetizers, and keep the beer and sodas flowing. Oh, and keep an eye on the shellfish. Mr. Todd has gout. Do a good job. Don't embarrass our department." He nudges me with a smirk. "When Mr. Todd walks away happy, he'll probably throw a massive bonus your way. You'll be laughing all the way to the bank. You make money, you get the credit, and the boss is happy. Dylan, you seriously owe me one." I stare at him, completely baffled. My family owns a small diner. Where on earth are we getting seafood from? The moment I flatly refuse, Stanley rolls his eyes and walks off. That night, a sign-up list pops up in the company group chat. "Mr. Todd's birthday is this Saturday! I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast. Eat as much as you want, and you can bring your family too. Add your name to the list if you're in!" The chat immediately erupts into cheers. In less than ten minutes, over 50 people sign up. "My dad's never even had lobster. Thanks to Stanley, he finally gets to experience something new!" "My kid loves tuna. Save a few extra portions for him!" Stanley promises everyone everything. After dropping a location pin in the chat, he transfers 99 dollars to me. "Dylan, take the cash. Make sure the ingredients are top-notch. Don't rip off your own coworkers." I take a closer look at the location and smile. It is the high-end seafood restaurant right next to my family's diner. The owner is a reformed gangster with tattoos climbing all the way up to his jaw. The last guy who tried to walk out on a bill there still can't get out of bed.

I was in the middle of a shift when my coworker, Denise Sutton, popped up out of nowhere and slapped me on the shoulder. "Next week is Gerald's birthday, and your family happens to run a seafood restaurant. So here's the plan — I'll chip in ninety-nine dollars, and we'll all go over to your place for a feast to celebrate." Denise counted off the menu on her fingers. "We need lobster and king crab, the fish has to be live-caught grouper, don't skimp on the appetizers, and stock up on beer and soda. Gerald's got gout, so go easy on the shellfish for him. Make sure everything's perfect — don't embarrass our department." She gave me a playful nudge, waggling her eyebrows. "Once Gerald's happy, he'll cut you a bonus worth a few thousand. Won't that make you happy?" "You get paid, you get noticed, and the boss ends up in a good mood. Amy, you'd better be properly grateful to me." I just stared at her, baffled. My family ran a breakfast counter that sold meat pies. Where exactly was the seafood supposed to come from? I turned Denise down flat. Denise just rolled her eyes and walked off. That night, a sign-up thread went out in the work group chat. "Gerald's birthday party is Saturday. I'm treating everyone to a seafood feast, all you can eat, and you can bring family. Reply if you're coming!" The chat erupted in cheers. In under ten minutes, more than fifty people had signed up. [My dad's never even had lobster. Guess he's finally getting cultured, thanks to Denise!] [My kid's obsessed with tuna. Get extra servings for her.] Denise agreed to everything without hesitation, dropped a location pin in the chat, and sent me ninety-nine dollars. Denise: [Amy, hold onto the money. The ingredients better be fresh — don't you dare shortchange your own coworkers.] I looked at the pinned location and smiled. It was the upscale seafood restaurant next door to my family's shop — owned by a man who'd gone straight a few years back after a rougher life, with tattoos running all the way up to his chin. The last person who'd tried to dine and dash there still hadn't gotten out of bed.

I am reborn on the day my wife, Courtney Clarke, embezzles company funds to pay off her childhood best friend, Travis Foster's, gambling debts. This time, I, Nathan Turner, don't sell my patents to help her plug her financial hole. Instead, I swiftly file for divorce with the court and cut ties with her. This is all because in my previous life, I had loved her with everything I had for 50 years. I was at her beck and call. She claimed she longed for a platonic marriage, and so I endured a sexless marriage for decades. All this lasted until the day of the shipwreck, when I gave her the last life vest. Yet, after she was saved, she never told the rescue team that I was still trapped inside the cabin. In my final moments, through a crack in the cabin door, I watched her throw herself into Travis' arms. "Trav, I love you. I only love you. From now on, no one will stand in the way of our love." In that moment, I abandoned all will to live, letting the sea swallow me whole. So this time, after being reborn, I choose to step aside and let her pursue her love.

Steven Zimmer, the assistant of my wife, Lucy Quinn, has lost in a truth-or-dare session. Lucy doesn't hesitate to file for a divorce from me for the ninth time. In the courthouse, I hear the staff member asking Lucy curiously, "Your husband is like a well-trained dog now. You've already married and divorced him nine times! Aren't you worried that your husband might ditch you for real?" Lucy merely smirks at her. "Do you know that the more ruthless you are when you abandon your pets, the harder it'll be for them to live without you? In fact, they will just become more obedient and docile. As long as I curl a finger at him, he'll definitely sink down to his knees and beg me to remarry him." Everyone bursts into laughter after that. They bet that I'll plead pathetically to Lucy to remarry me for the tenth time in less than a day after I've obtained the divorce certificate. Lucy even declares that she'll stream the tenth wedding proposal on the Internet when it happens. But the next day, Lucy keeps waiting for me to show up at the city hall while clad in a wedding dress. All she gets is a text from me. "No more proposals. This is the end between us, Lucy."