OH NOT THE WISDOM TEETH pt. 1 “Ok we got the topical numbing agent rubbed in, so you won’t feel the IV to much,” Plankton’s dentist says. Karen, Plankton’s wife, sat right by the operation chair. Plankton’s getting his wisdom teeth pulled out under anesthesia, hence the IV. They put the IV in his numbed arm. “Now Mr. Plankton, can you count for me?” Plankton nods, “One, two, three...” His eye starts to glaze over. He slurs a bit at the four. “Five... six... sev... sev... sev...” His voice trails off into a gentle snore as the anesthesia takes effect. Karen, with a sigh of relief, watches his body relax into the chair. The surgery room's lights shine down brightly on Plankton's open mouth, his teeth now a battleground. The dentist, with a steady hand, picks up the forceps and begins his work. The chair squeaks slightly as the team of oral surgeons move around. Karen's eyes are glued to the monitor, where an inside view of the procedure plays out. The sound of bone crunching fills the silent room, making her cringe, but she forces herself to watch. The dentist, with a concentrated expression, works with precision. Sweat beads form on his brow as he maneuvers around the stubborn tooth. His assistant, a young fish named Bubbles, hands him tools with quick, efficient movements. They work in silent harmony, their eyes never leaving the monitor or Plankton’s mouth. On the screen, Karen can see the tooth’s root, snaking deep into Plankton’s jaw. The tension in the room is almost palpable, the only sounds the steady beep of the heart monitor and the occasional slurp of saline. The dentist’s face remains calm and focused, his grip on the forceps firm. He leans in closer, his eyes squinted as he tries to see better. Karen’s heart skips a beat as the instrument clamps down on the tooth. She can almost feel the resistance it gives, and holds her breath. With a quick, decisive movement, the dentist yanks the tooth free. A moment of stillness follows, the only sound the quiet thud as the tooth hits the tray. Then, a trickle of blood. Plankton’s chest rises and falls evenly, his snores the only proof he’s alive. Karen reaches over to squeeze his hand. The second tooth proves more stubborn. The dentist wiggles the forceps back and forth, the sound of bone grinding echoing. Bubbles darts in with a suction tube, clearing the way for the doctor to work. The tension builds as they wrestle with the tooth. “Almost got it...” the dentist murmurs, his voice tight with concentration. The monitor shows the root slightly loosening, and Karen’s grip on Plankton’s hand tightens. The room seems to shrink around them, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and the faint metallic tang of blood. With a final, forceful tug, the second tooth gives way. The room exhales collectively as it’s removed. Bubbles quickly steps in to apply pressure to the wound, stemming the flow of blood. The monitor shows the tooth, now free from its bony prison, lying on the tray beside the first one. Karen feels a weight lift off her chest. Plankton’s snores remain steady, oblivious to the victory just won as they inject numbing anesthetic agents into his gums. The third tooth is a quick extraction, and the fourth is a slow, careful dance. The monitor shows every detail in stark clarity: the blood, the bone, the delicate dance of the instruments. Plankton’s snores remain consistent, a comforting reminder that he’s okay, that he feels no pain. The team works in silent harmony, each movement choreographed to perfection. Bubbles disposes of the wisdom teeth as the dentist uses dissolvable stitches to sew the gums shut. Karen’s eyes never stray from the monitor, watching as the gaping sockets are cleaned and packed with gauze. The whole process seems to move in slow motion, each second stretching into eternity. The last stitch is placed, and the dentist gives a reassuring smile. “All done, Mrs. Plankton. Everything went perfectly. Your husband will be out cold for a few more minutes, but he’ll be okay. We’ll take him and you into the recovery room now so he can wake up.” The chair reclines slowly, and Plankton’s body is carefully moved to a gurney. Karen follows closely behind, still holding his hand, her eyes never leaving his peaceful face. The wheels squeak as the gurney rolls down the hall to the recovery room, a softly lit space that feels like a contrast to the harshness of the surgery. The nurses are gentle as they transfer him to the recovery bed, her mind racing with every jostle. The machines beep in a comforting rhythm, and Plankton’s chest rises and falls steadily. She watches his closed eye, yet his sleep remains deep. The nurse checks the monitors and nods, her scales glistening under the soft lights. “He’s doing well, Mrs. Plankton. We’ll keep an eye on him here for a bit longer. The drugs may take some time to wear off completely.”

OH NOT THE WISDOM TEETH pt. 2 Karen sits by the bed, her gaze fixed on Plankton’s face as drool pools at the corner of his mouth. The nurse comes in, checks the machines, and leaves with a nod. Plankton stirs slightly, but the snores continue. Karen's thoughts drift to their life together, the adventures they’ve shared. The quiet moments of laughter, the fiery fights over the Krabby Patty formula, the tender kisses exchanged at nightfall. Her heart swells with love and concern. She brushes his antennae with a gentle touch. The drool on Plankton’s mouth forms a tiny river, wetting the pillow. Karen fights the urge to laugh, knowing he’d be embarrassed if he were awake. She reaches over to his gauze and dabs it away, careful not to disturb. A nurse, a motherly looking octopus named Octavia, enters the room with a kind smile. “You know, Mrs. Plankton, sometimes patients can get a bit loopy when they first wake up from anesthesia. It’s perfectly normal. You might want to be prepared for some funny things he might say or do.” She chuckles to herself, remembering past incidents with other patients. Karen looks up. “Like what?” she asks. Octavia smiles, her tentacles curling around the clipboard she holds. “Well, they might say something that doesn’t quite make sense, or think they’re somewhere else entirely. Some get a bit feisty, too. It’s all just the anesthesia wearing off. Nothing to worry about, really.” She winks one of her large eyes, her expression comforting. “His mouth will be numb, so he might talk a bit funny. And sometimes, they think they’re still dreaming, so they do or say the darndest things. Just try to keep him calm, and it’ll all be over soon enough. Remember, it’s temporary, and he’ll be back to his usual self before you know it!” Karen nods, trying to absorb the information while keeping her eyes on Plankton. His snores have changed pitch, and she can't help but wonder if he's about to wake up. The minutes drag on, feeling like hours, as she waits for any sign of him stirring. Finally, with a soft moan, Plankton's eye begins to flutter open, unfocused, glazed over, and it's clear he's still not fully awake, and Karen smiles, ready for the loopy phase the nurse warned her about. "Karen," he slurs, his voice muffled by the cotton gauze stuffed in his mouth. "Wheh... wheh a?" Karen's smile broadens. "You're ok, Plankton. It's over. You're in the recovery room," she whispers. He tries to sit up, but the nurse gently pushes him back down. "Easy, easy. Take it slow, Mr. Plankton. You're still..." Her voice trails off as Plankton's eye focus on the ceiling, and his mouth moves as if he's trying to speak. Karen leans closer, her heart racing. "What is it, sweetie?" His words come out slurred, the anesthesia still thick in his voice. "Whe... whe... whewe... my... my mouf?" Karen chuckles softly, relief bubbling up. "Your mouth is numb, Plank..." But her words are cut short as Plankton's eye widens. "My... my tee... tee... tweef!" He mumbles. The nurse, Octavia, steps forward with a calm demeanor. "It's okay, Mr. Plankton. Your teeth are safe. We removed the wisdom teeth. You won't feel much pain for now because of the numbing agent and anesthesia." Plankton's eye darts around the room. "My tee... tweef... I wont feel... I ca..." Karen's uncertain of what he's trying to say. She repeats the nurse's words, her voice soothing. "You won't feel much pain. It's okay." Plankton's hand shoots up, flailing slightly as he tries to touch his mouth. Karen catches it gently, holding it down. "You don't have to worry about your teeth right now." They remove the IV from Plankton’s arm, and he sees the dentist. “Huh..” “You did great, buddy,” says the dentist. Plankton’s eye is still blurry, his thoughts scattered. “Teethies?” he repeats, his voice still slurred. The nurse nods, patting his hand. “Yes, we took out the teethies. You’re all fixed up now.” Plankton’s eye relaxes a bit, but confusion swims through the fog of his thoughts. “Tee... tw... thee?” Karen nods. “They got all four of them. You’ll be ok now.” The nurse, seeing his confusion, explains further. “The anesthesia makes it so you don’t remember the surgery. But I promise, we took great care of you. Your teeth are out, and you’re safe here in recovery.” Plankton’s eye droops slightly, and his head lolls to the side as he slips back into sleep, his snores resuming their steady rhythm. Octavia smiles. “This is completely normal, Mrs. Plankton. The anesthesia can take a while to wear off. Just keep talking to him, soothingly, so he knows you’re here when he wakes up. Let’s wake him up and get him to your car.”