SpongeBob: I am just so touched that you would go to the trouble to dress up as a ghostly fry-cook and stand on the other side of the street just to entertain me. You must really like me! 
Squidward: Spongebob, there are two problems with your theory. One, 
I hate you. And two, how can that be me when I'm standing right here? 
Or you could go with....
Squidward: Years ago, at this very restaurant, the hash-slinging slasher used to be a frycook, just like you. Only clumsier! And then, one night, when he was cutting the patties, it happened... 
SpongeBob: He forgot the secret sauce? 
Squidward: No. 
SpongeBob: He didn't wash his hands? 
Squidward: No! 
SpongeBob: Irregular portions? 
Squidward: NO! He cut off his own hand! By mistake! 
SpongeBob: You mean like this? 
[At every 'this', SpongeBob removes his arm and a new one grows back] SpongeBob: Or like this? Or this? Or this? But what about this? Or this? Or this? Or this? 
Squidward: Except he wasn't a sponge! 
SpongeBob: So? 
Squidward: So it didn't grow back! 
SpongeBob: OH NO! 
Squidward: And he replaced his hand... with a rusty spatula. And then... he got hit by a bus! And, as funeral, they fired him! So now... every... What day is it? 
SpongeBob: Tuesday. 
Squidward: Tuesday night! His ghost returns to the Krusty Krab to wreak his horrible vengeance!