Welcome to another of my fan-fics. For this one, I'm going to experiment with something a little different: a horror story. And without further ado, I present: The Haunted Typewriter.
Prologue:
It was a dark night. Spongebob had decided after much consideration to attend an indoor antique mall in hopes to find something of interest. There were many booths there with a bounty of gleeful items. After Spongebob had already chosen a large selection of rummage, he stopped by a smaller booth in a corner. The manager, a green fish, looked as if he was about to break into tears, and he kept nervously glancing about. Spongebob went over each piece carefully. Eventually, a particular piece caught Spongebob's excited eye. It was a dusty, old typewriter.
"How much?" inquired Spongebob, as he pointed his finger at the busted-up machine. "Five dollars." the man replied, looking strangely relieved. Spongebob checked his wallet, and his enthusiasm died. "Barnacles! I only have a measly quarter." "Fine, I'll take it! Just get that typewriter out of here!" The man snatched the quarter out of Spongebob's outstretched hand and shoved the typewriter at Spongebob's body. The man sighed a huge sigh, brushed the sweat off his forehead, and ran away.
"Wow, what a coral find! I can't wait to show Patrick."