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!
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