I was told to sit.
That happens sometimes.
Someone says, “Just sit here for a second,” and I do. I don’t ask a lot of questions because questions tend to slow things down, and I was already wearing the suit. The suit usually means you’re expected to behave.
So I sat.
There was a sponge. He was very square and very upbeat. A starfish leaned in closer than necessary. The tall one next to me looked tired in a way that suggested he had seen this all before and would see it again tomorrow.
Nobody introduced me, which I took as a good sign.
When things get formal, there’s paperwork. When there’s no paperwork, it’s usually a cameo.
I didn’t speak. I wasn’t asked to. I’ve learned over the years that silence is often the most respectful contribution. Also, animated environments tend to exaggerate mouth movement, and I didn’t want to cause a distraction.
The sponge smiled the entire time. I respect that. It takes discipline.
I remember thinking the water felt very blue that day. Not wet—just blue. That’s an important distinction in animation. You don’t question it. You accept it and keep your hands folded.
Later, someone mentioned it might be part of a feature film. I nodded, because nodding is appropriate when people use words like feature and franchise. Those words come with expectations, and I try not to interfere with expectations unless invited.
If this was a cameo, I’m glad it was quiet.
If it wasn’t, I’m glad I sat anyway.
Sometimes being present is enough. Sometimes that’s the whole role.
Chainsaw Note:
Yeah, yeah—relax. SpongeBob SquarePants belongs to Stephen Hillenburg, Nickelodeon, and the fine folks who live in a pineapple under the sea. They made the sponge, the starfish, the squid, and the relentless optimism. I just wandered in wearing a rubber chicken mask and sat down politely. No chainsaws involved. This is parody. It’s satire. It’s me doing my thing, not them doing theirs. If you thought otherwise, you might need to step away from the Krabby Patties for a minute.