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One-Shot Glory


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'One-Shot Glory' is a simple story contest for your ideas. If you don't want to make a full-fledged spin-off/literature during the festival, that's perfectly fine. However, if you do want to show some of your creativity for something smaller, then this contest is worth taking a shot at. The rules are as follows:

1: The story can be about anything. It could be SpongeBob related or non-SpongeBob related, it doesn't matter to us, as long as it's not against the community's fanfiction guidelines.

2: It cannot be a chapter of an already existing work (if you have any), this is for fresh ideas.

3: It must at least be 300 words, but can go over.

A judging panel (consisting of sbl, Kieran and Fred) will pick the best story. The winner will receive 1,000 SOF Tickets1,000 doubloons, 200 experience points and a trophy. The deadline to submit something is before the last day of the Spin-Off Festival, on June 18th, and the winner will be announced June 19th.

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Late but might as well wing something for this:

Long Gone Summer

I had just finished the best day of my and every seventh grade student's year: the last day of seventh grade. I was sitting in front of the middle school, playing my Nintendo DS in the parking lot as I waited for my parents to pick me up. Rafael Hernandez, my best friend (and only friend) grabbed my shoulders from behind, startling me.

"What the heck, dude?" I said. "I was about to punch you in the face!"

"Sorry," he said, smiling.

"I still might," I muttered.

"What's got you so down? School's over! We're free!"

"Until September, anyway."

"There you go, seeing the negative side of everything! That's why nobody wants to hang out with you!"

I shrugged.

"There just isn't a lot to be positive about right now," I said.

"What do you mean? According to my parents, the economy's starting to get better, meaning people can work again. We just made that Obama guy president, meaning racism is officially over. There couldn't be a better time to be alive!"

"Yeah, I guess, but...I don't know. In school I had a routine. Now I'm going home for three months to burn my eyes out playing Pokemon. Maybe we'll go to the movie theater to watch Up a few more times, but that's it. We can't afford to do anything else."

"So it's money you need? I can help with that!"

"How?"

"Well, my science teacher started watching this show Breaking Bad...it's boring, I wouldn't recommend it, but it gave my teacher the idea to sell meth, and he wanted my help, since...well..."

"Since you're Hispanic?"

"Well, yeah."

"I thought you said racism was over."

"Anyway, I did some research, and it turns out you can make a lot of money selling that stuff."

"Jesus, Raf, you want to sell meth?"

"No! God, no! The margins on meth are terrible! I want to sell heroin."

I closed my DS and stood up.

"I'm not having this conversation anymore," I said. "We can get in trouble just for talking about this!"

"Come on! I have some connections back home in Colombia, and they were able to send me a kilo of the stuff. I'll give you half, and you'll be able to get 50, 60 bucks from that alone," said Rafael.

"No," I said. "I am not selling heroin."

By the end of June, I had sold my half-kilo of heroin, and I met with Rafael at his house to get another.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you boys!" said Rafael's mom. "Not even 14 yet, and you're already successful businessmen!"

"Go away, mom. You're embarrassing me," said Rafael.

"Alright, alright. As soon as your friend gives me my cut, I'll go," she said.

"Her cut?" I said.

"Oh, yeah," said Rafael. "My mom's kind of in control of the whole operation, so she takes 20%."

I rolled my eyes and took $10 out of my pocket before giving it to Rafael's mother.

"Thank you so much, dear," said Rafael's mom. "And remember if you ever 'forget' to pay me, I'll send people to your house to kill your family. Oh! The cookies are almost ready!"

Rafael's mom ran into the kitchen, and Rafael rubbed his arm with a sheepish look on his face.

"My mom can be kind of intense sometimes, but she means well," he said.

"I can't believe I can actually make my own money now," I said. "A trip to Disney World would probably cost us $400 which, taking your mom's cut into account, would be five kilos. Think we can make it happen?"

"Absolutely! We were just being tested with the half-kilo to make sure we wouldn't smoke the product or do anything dumb like that. Five kilos is nothing."

I tried some of Rafael's mom's cookies, making sure to keep my distance from her, and I left with the five kilos. My parents thought I got a job delivering newspapers, so once I got back home, I told them I was taking the bike out for work, and they didn't ask any questions. I rode my bike to the bad part of town, and it didn't take long for me to sell the five kilos. I returned Rafael's house, and his mom was surprised to see me when I walked in.

"You already sold the product? You were only gone an hour," she said.

I gave Rafael's mom five 20s.

"Yep, it's sold, and there's the proof," I said.

Rafael's mom smiled.

"How would you like a bigger role in the organization?" she said.

"What? Why are you promoting him and not me!" said Rafael.

"Have you even sold your half-kilo yet?" his mom said.

"N-no, but I'm working on it," said Rafael.

Rafael's mom put a hand on my shoulder.

"You are a golden boy. The best worker we've ever had. Enjoy your trip to Disney World. You have earned it," she said.

I smiled and returned home just as it started to get dark. I surprised my parents with the $400 that night, and I hadn't seen them that happy since my dad got his hours cut due to the recession nearly a year before. I realized I had a special ability, an ability to sell heroin not just to drug addicts but to all kinds of people, even people who never thought they would do drugs in their wildest dreams. I was to heroin what Steve Jobs was to phones, what Bill Gates was to computers, and it was a gift I had no intention of letting go to waste.

By the end of the summer, I was selling thousands of dollars of heroin a week. My relationship with Rafael went sour, probably because his mother liked me more than him, but I didn't care. I was able to buy my parents a new car with my "newspaper" money, and while I'm sure it didn't take them long to realize I didn't actually deliver newspapers, they didn't care to ask about it as long as the money kept coming in. I was on top of the world, believing nothing could stop me until the day before Labor Day and two days before the start of eighth grade, when everything came crashing down.

I met a potential buyer near the lake, a tall man wearing sunglasses who had called me earlier that day saying he wanted to buy 100 kilos, which a lot more than anyone had ever requested from me. I called Rafael's mom right after that, and she told me that this could be a trick and that I would need to have a gun on me, but that it was fine to make the sale as long as I was safe.

"Hello, there," said the buyer, waving as I approached him. "Can I see what you have?"

"Can I see the money first?" I said.

"Of course, of course."

The buyer unlocked a briefcase to reveal lines and lines of hundreds inside. It was like something out of a movie. I had to stop myself from drooling as I looked at the money with my mouth agape. The buyer locked the suitcase again.

"Your turn," he said.

I unzipped my backpack to reveal the bags of heroin inside.

"Can I try a sample?" said the buyer.

I dipped my finger into one of the bags an rolled it around until my finger was completely white. I then let the buyer sniff my finger.

"Wow, that's pretty strong!" said the buyer. "I guess now's a good time to tell you that I work for the DEA and that you're under arrest for the possession of drugs."

My heart sank when I heard this, and for moment, I thought about getting the gun I buried under the bags of heroin and shooting the DEA agent, dumping his body in the lake, and pretending like none of this ever happened. The agent took off his sunglasses and glared at me in a way that made it crystal clear he knew what I was thinking.

"If there's a gun in there, you'll be charged for that, too, and if you want to use the gun on me, well, I can't stop you, but it will make what is already a bad situation a whole lot worse. The DEA knows your name, they know where you live, and they know you're the biggest heroin distributor in this city," said the agent.

I began to cry. I didn't want to give that smug agent the satisfaction of knowing he broke me, but it was all too much. The agent handcuffed me and threw my bag into the trunk of his van before making me get into the backseat. I spent the next few months in a holding facility being questioned, but I didn't give them any names, knowing my entire family was good as dead if I did that. I pled guilty to everything they charged me with and did three years in juvie before getting released for good behavior.

If I could do it again? I would, because for that summer, that long gone summer, I felt invincible. I know now that I'm anything but, which is why I've retired from the drug trade, but that feeling, as fleeting as it was, is one I'll never forget.

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