Krusty Krab Patrick Novels & Stories

I groaned, covering my head with a pillow. "Hey, it's Patrick." He said. My eyes darted open and I shook the comforter off of my body, flinging myself out of the bed. "Oh! Just a second!" I yelled. I frantically tidied up the bed, pushing clothes that I threw on the floor last night under the bed. I looked in the mirror, irritated at how shitty I looked. I glanced at the alarm clock: it was 8:21 in the morning, so I had a valid excuse for my lack of showmanship. I flattened my fly aways and walked confidently to the door and opened it. Patrick stood there, wearing a dark green sweater and khaki pants. He looked more of a man than his younger brothers, sporting a short beard that was a shade

Patrick groaned and tried to smother himself with the nearest pillow. Couldn’t a man suffer through a hangover in peace in his own home? Patrick decided to leave the couple to their toxicity until things began heating up. No way in hell was Patrick about to miss this Jerry Springer action. Patrick rolled out of bed with a heavy sigh and tiptoed down the stairs. He sat on the bottom stairs and watched the fireworks fly. Patrick wished he could press pause and fix himself a bag of popcorn, but this was too good to miss.

I remembered now – he was the running back for the team. “No but I saw your fumble,” she teased. He held a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You wound me,” he said. Then, he turned to us. “Oh, I’m sorry! Hi, I’m Patrick!” “Patrick is a friend,” Paula said quickly, still beet-red. Gina hid a laugh behind her hand. Amy raised an eyebrow. “Hey you’re the other nurse, right?” Patrick said, pointing at me. “The one that got bit in here?”

Patrick woke up the following morning with a headache. He sat up on his bed and stared around, trying to remember the hot, stupid dream he had the previous night. "Fụck!" he cursed aloud. "What happened here?" he asked again. Just then, he heard a knock on his suite door, pulling him out of his rivalry thoughts. As he stared at his door, it flung open, and Jeff Hudson stepped in. "Good morning, boss," Jeff greeted Patrick, and stared at him in surprise, seeing him still sitting on his bed and clutching his head, as he used his right palm to support his aching head.

I raise my gaze to where Paul is kneeling, his and a lot of their attention on me. Hmm? What had I missed? “Yes, Paul?” “Patrick was asking if he could go pee.” The last words expose the gap in his teeth. He has somehow, registered himself as the leader of the group. And I know that someday, he would make a fine honorable gentleman. “Yes, of course. Patrick go ease yourself. But don’t be gone for so long…” “Or else the mighty grasshopper will jump out and swallow you up!” they all chorus and break into loud giggles.

Patrick, as he continues to speak, “it’s good to see you, how are you?” Mr. Patrick says to me sounding chirpy as always, “I’m doing alright, how are your wife and the kids” “all good dear, all good,” The man seated on the opposite side of Mr. Patrick looks like he is in his late twenties, he introduces himself to me as John Provo, Stiliyan Dimitros lawyer.

Deciding to ignore her, I just rolled my eyes and put my phone back in my jeans. "Does she have a "like" syndrome? I heard it's deadly, especially for brain cells," It's a miracle! JerkAss actually said something right and bright. "MR. LANGSTON!" A shout came from the shop. We turn around and groaned when we saw it was the best friend of Sponge Bob, Patrick. -I made a joke. "Call me Reed, starfish." That's actually funny, "Mr. Langston is my father, the one with gray hairs and a lot of wrinkles." Now that's just plain rude.

I said, handing one to my partner in crime. When I say I don’t have friends, that’s probably a lie. I fucking love my staff, but I don’t hang with them outside of work. Patrick has been with us about three years and he eats like a dump truck all while being probably 140 lbs. The kid takes the word "buffet" seriously, I once watched him eat like ten plates. I hated him for it but I loved his company. He grabbed a milk out of the crate and handed it to me.

a beep rang from inside it was non-other than chancellor Jeff Gordon. " what do you what? " with a serious face Jeff asked Patrick. Patrick stood there and said "I want to donate 100 million to the university" hearing this Jeff looked at Patrick with shocked eyes and seeing the appearance he shook his head asking" what's your name?" "I am Patrick smith from business management class " Patrick answered. Jeff said " ok now stop joking and return to your class Patrick " Patrick know he will not believe so he transferred them to Jeff's account using his name Patrick got Jeff's account no from his networks.

“Your brother is already there. Get inside to Seb’s VIP Lounge already, man. I’ll be there in a sec.” I rub the back of my neck with my sweaty palm. My nerve pricks me and my second thought of running away is tingling my skin, but I’m already here, and it’s Paul’s birthday after all. If they won’t like me here, then I will just leave. Easy peasy. “Wow! Look who finally gets out from his lair?” Patrick says exaggeratedly, and as always, he is overreacting. “Thought your dead, man. Good to finally see you suffer too much from stupidity, brokenheartedness, and dumbass. You look like shit!” Patrick starts his speech and as I expected.