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(Autistic author) Plankton has autism, which only he and Karen know about. They're able to keep it a secret, per Plankton's request, even from their son Chip. So when Chip comes home early from football, he's surprised to see his dad staring at the blank wall as his mom rubs his back. "Is everything okay?" he asks, stepping into the room. Plankton's eye is unfocused, his body rigid, like he's stuck in some invisible vice. Karen's hand pauses on his shoulder, and she turns to face Chip, her smile forced. "Yeah, just a little...spell," she says. Plankton's absence seizure has struck without warning. It's like a silent storm passing through the room, leaving no trace except the vacant look in his eye. The room seems to shrink around them as Chip takes in his dad's unblinking stare. He's never seen this. "Should I get help?" Chip's voice cracks. Karen shakes her head quickly, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "No, it's fine. Just...give us a minute." She waves a hand, trying to dismiss the concern that has etched itself on Chip's features. But Chip lingers, his gaze flickering between his parents. "What's happening?" he whispers. Karen sighs, her hand dropping to her side. She looks at Plankton. "It's just something your dad has," she says, choosing her words carefully. "It's like his brain goes on pause for a bit." Chip watches as his dad's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the only indication that he's still present in the physical world. "But what do you mean?" his eyes search hers for understanding. Karen's eyes flit to Plankton before returning to Chip's. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself. "It's not dangerous, just a little scary-looking." The silence stretches until it feels like a rubber band about to snap. Chip's curiosity overpowers his fear. He takes a tentative step closer. "Does he know we're here?" Chip whispers. "Not really," Karen murmurs, "But he'll come back to us." Chip reaches out, a tremor in his fingertips, and touches Plankton's arm, but the seizure doesn't seem to notice. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice a soft echo in the stillness. Plankton's body remains stiff as a statue, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere beyond the wallpaper's pattern. Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's okay," she whispers back, "It's part of him. Don't poke or shake him, just let it pass." The seconds tick by, each one feeling heavier than the last. Chip's heart thuds in his chest, his mind racing with questions and fear. He's never seen his dad like this before, so...so vulnerable. As the seizure slowly releases its grip, Plankton blinks, his eye refocusing on the room. He looks confused, like he's waking from a deep sleep. Karen's smile relaxes, the tension in her shoulders easing. Plankton turns to her, his gaze flickering with recognition before falling on Chip. "Chip?" His voice is raspy. Karen nods at Chip, silently urging him to speak. "Yeah, Dad, it's me." Plankton's expression shifts. "What...what happened?" his voice is frail. Chip opens his mouth, but Karen steps in quickly. "You had a little moment, that's all. Nothing to worry about," she says, her tone light. But her hand is still on Plankton's back, ready to provide support if needed. Plankton's eye darts around, his hands clenching and unclenching as if trying to remember how to interact with the world again. He notices Chip's hand reaching out and flinches slightly, his discomfort with physical contact clear. Chip, sensing this, pulls his hand back, his cheeks flushing. He's always known his dad was a bit...different. Quirky. But he's never seen this side of him. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing as she squeezes Plankton's hand. "You're okay." Plankton nods, his mind slowly untangling from the cotton wool fog of the seizure. He looks around the room, familiar objects snapping back into focus. His eye lands on Chip, who's watching him with a mix of worry and curiosity. He clears his throat. "Just a...moment. I'm fine now." He tries to smile, but it feels awkward and forced. Chip's eyes don't leave him. "What was that?" he asks, his voice still low. Karen looks at Plankton. It's time. "Your dad has something called autism, Chip," she says. "It's like his brain works in a special way." Chip's eyes widen. "What does that mean?" Karen sits down beside Plankton, who's still gathering himself. "It's like...sometimes, his brain takes a little break from the world," she explains gently, her hand still on his shoulder. "It can be overwhelming, with all the sounds, sights, and people around." Chip nods slowly, trying to grasp the concept. Plankton swallows hard, his mind racing. He's always been so careful to hide this part of himself, not wanting to be seen as less than or weird. But as he looks at Chip, his heart swells with a mix of fear and hope. What if his son can't understand? What if this changes everything? Karen gives him a nod, encouraging him to go on. With a deep breath, Plankton starts to speak. "You know how sometimes you get really focused on something and the world just fades away?" Chip nods. "Well, for me, it's like that," Plankton says, his voice steadying. "But sometimes, my brain does it without me asking. It's like my thoughts are a TV with too many channels playing at once, and it just...shuts off for a bit to give me a break." Chip nods, trying to imagine what that's like. "Does it hurt?" Plankton shakes his head. "Well, it's just...different. Sometimes I don't realize, sometimes it's tough." Chip looks up at him, his eyes full of questions and a nascent empathy. "Can you control..." "No Chip, I can't 'control' it!" He snaps back. "Hey hey, it's okay," Karen whispers, meeting his gaze. "He's not judging you, Plankton." Plankton takes a deep breath, his eye fluttering shut. "I know," he murmurs, but his tone is anything but convinced. Chip's gaze softens, his fear replaced with a determined curiosity. "What's it like?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "It's like being in a little bubble," he says, his eye distant. "Everything's far away, muffled. And when it's over, it's like...like popping back into reality." Chip's curiosity grows, his mind racing with questions. "But why do you keep it a secret?" he asks, his voice tentative. Karen looks to Plankton, who's still visibly shaken. "We didn't want it to define you," she says softly. "We wanted you to see him as just your dad, not as someone with a label." Plankton nods. "And I didn't want to be different," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip considers this, his gaze flitting from his dad to the ground. "But you are," he says, his voice earnest. "You're my dad, even with your..." He stumbles over the word "...seizures." Karen's eyes fill with pride at her son's acceptance. Plankton's tension how ever, heightens at Chip's description. "It's not a seizure," he corrects, his voice slightly defensive. Chip looks confused. "But it looks like it," he says, frowning. Karen nods. "It's similar, but not the same," she explains before Plankton can interject. "It's part of your dad's autism." Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching for something he's never noticed before. "But why did you keep it a secret?" he asks again. Plankton's gaze drifts to the floor, his voice soft. "Because people can be cruel, son," he says, his words heavy. "They don't always understand." Chip nods, his eyes welling up with tears. "But I do," he says, his voice shaking. "I mean, I don't get it all, but I understand that you're still you." Plankton's expression softens, his fear of rejection dissipating slightly. He looks up at Karen, his gaze filled with gratitude. She gives him a small smile, her eyes telling him it's okay to be his true self.

"You know I hate these early mornings," Plankton grumbled, his eye squinting against the glaring light. Karen, his ever-patient wife, offered a gentle smile, her hand resting firmly on his arm. "It's just a simple procedure," she assured him, as he’s getting his wisdom teeth removed as a preventative measure. The drive to the surgery center was quiet, except for the soft hum of the car's engine and the occasional swipe of the windshield wipers against the rain. Plankton's stomach churned with nerves, his thoughts racing to worst-case scenarios. Karen noticed his grip tightening on the armrest and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Once they arrived, the receptionist's bright smile did little to ease Plankton's anxiety. The waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and mint, a sterile combination that always made him feel somewhat uneasy. They checked in, and Karen filled out the last of the forms while Plankton nervously tapped his foot, watching the clock's second hand move in slow, deliberate marches around the face. With a few moments to spare, Karen discreetly pulled out her phone and started typing a group text to her gal pals, Sandy and Pearl. "Plankton's about to get his wisdom teeth out! 😨🦷💊" she wrote. Her thumb hit send. Sandy's response was almost instant, "Good luck to him! 💪🤞 I'll be thinking of him!" Pearl's message popped up moments later, "Oh no, poor guy! Send us updates, please! 🥺💔" The nurse called Plankton's name, and Karen gave his hand a final squeeze as they followed the nurse to the operating rooml, her thumbs poised over the keyboard of her phone. "Going in now. 🙏💛" The room was cold and clinical, with shiny instruments gleaming in the harsh overhead lights. Plankton's breathing grew shallow as he settled into the chair, the paper crinkling under him like a warning. The anesthesiologist, Dr. Shell, was a kind-faced crab with a gentle demeanor that somehow made Plankton feel slightly less nervous. "This won't hurt a bit," Dr. Shell assured him, placing a mask over Plankton before the iv. "Just breathe deeply and count back from twenty for me." Plankton nodded, his heart racing like a squirrel's in a predator's gaze. He took a deep breath and began to count, his eyes never leaving Karen's. "Twenty...nineteen...eigh-" his voice trailed off as the warm embrace of anesthesia took hold, his eyelid growing heavier by the second. Karen waited until he was fully asleep before sending another text. "He's in! 🛃💤 I'll keep you both posted." She watched as the surgical team went to work, their movements swift and precise. Karen watched the surgery finish and sat with him. He’s still asleep, drooling a bit, but she couldn’t help but smile at his peaceful snores. The nurse nodded her way, indicating everything had gone according to plan. She took a picture of him sleeping to send the gal pals. "Success! 👨‍⚕️💤🦷" she texted, including the photo. "The teeth are out, and Plankton's snoring like a champ!" Sandy's response was swift, "Phew! 😅 That's a relief. How's the little guy holding up?" Karen chuckled softly, typing back, "Out cold, but his snores are music to my ears. 😂🎶" Sandy's response was a symphony of emojis, "🎉🥂 He's gonna be so groggy when he wakes up! Make sure to get some funny videos for our group chat! 📹😂" Karen couldn't help but laugh at the thought of capturing Plankton's post- op antics. She knew her friends would get a kick out of it. The nurse, sensing her amusement, leaned in and whispered, "You'll want to keep an eye on him when the anesthesia wears off. They can get pretty loopy." Karen nodded, her thumbs dancing over the phone's screen. "You bet I will. 😂🎥" she texted back to Sandy. The nurse returned with a small cup of water and a set of instructions. "Here you go. Make sure he sips this slowly once he's ready. And don't let him have any solid foods for a few hours. Just soups and smoothies." Karen nodded, still smiling at the thought of Plankton's impending drowsy adventure. Her phone buzzed again. It was Pearl this time, "Send us the updates! 👀💃" Karen looked down at Plankton, his mouth now swollen and his cheeks still numb as he slept. With a smirk, she sent a quick selfie of the two of them, his mouth open and her thumb up in the background. "Still hasn’t woken up, but I'm ready for the post-op show! 😂🤡" Sandy's reply was, "Oh, the joy of modern medicine. 😂💊👨‍⚕️" The nurse returned with a wheelchair to take Plankton to the recovery area. Karen helped his body sit up, and his head lolled against her shoulder. As they made their way down the hall, his eye still remained closed. Sandy responded to the selfie with a string of laughing emojis and a thumbs up. "You've got this! 😂👍" Pearl's message was a bit more dramatic, "Oh my gosh, he looks like he's been in a battle with a sea serpent and lost! 🐉💨🤕" Karen couldn't help but chuckle, despite her exhaustion from the early morning and the worry. Plankton began to stir as the wheelchair stopped. "We're here," Karen whispered, adjusting his pillow. The nurse helped him into a recliner, and Plankton's eye flickered open, a look of confusion spreading across his face. "Whewe...an...I?" he slurred. Karen held up the cup of water and the nurse nodded. She brought it to his lips, and he took a tentative sip, wincing as the coolness hit his numbed mouth. The sensation was oddly comforting. "Teef...?" Plankton managed to ask, his voice thick with sleep and the aftermath of the procedure. Karen giggled at his speech, snapping another photo of his swollen, goofy smile. She sent it to Sandy and Pearl, adding, "Ahoy there, pirate Plankton! 🏴‍☠️🦷" The responses came flooding in, a river of laughter and well wishes. "Looks like he found the hidden treasure of pain relief! 😂💊💎" Sandy texted. "Send our regards to the tooth fairy for us! 🧚‍♀️💃" Pearl added. Their messages brought a warmth to Karen's heart, reminding her that she wasn't alone in this moment, despite being miles apart from her friends. The nurse left them in the recovery area, the steady beep of monitors and the distant mumble of patients and staff filling the space. Plankton's eye grew heavier, and he drifted back to sleep, snoring gently. Karen, now in charge of documenting Plankton's recovery for their amusement, sent another update. "Pirate Plankton's snoring symphony is in full swing! 🐠💤🎶" This time, the replies from her friends were even faster, their emojis reflecting the comical sight of her husband. Pearl's response was a string of laughter and a band-aid emoji, "Tell him not to talk to the fishes about his treasure lost! 🐠🤐💨" Karen giggled at the thought and leaned in to whisper in Plankton, "You've got fans waiting for your tales of the deep, captain." His snores grew louder, a gentle sea breeze escaping his mouth like a lullaby for the fishes. Her phone vibrated again. Sandy had responded with a series of emojis: "🐠💨💃💃💃" followed by "Make sure he doesn't swipe his treasure map with those souvenir teeth! 🛃💃🐠" Karen couldn't resist playing along, sending a photo of Plankton's teeth, now in a tiny plastic treasure chest, along with the text, "Arrr, he's lost his pearls, but the sea's still got plenty more! 💎🐠🏹" Sandy replied with a row of clapping fish, "What a hero's journey he's had! 🐠👏" and Pearl chimed in with, "Those teeth are now part of the ocean's legend! 🐠💃💃" Karen's phone buzzed again, and she saw that Sandy had sent a meme featuring a lobster with wisdom teeth, holding a tiny pirate flag. "This is too much," she thought, laughing quietly so as not to wake Plankton. She showed him the meme once he began to stir again. His swollen smile grew wider, and he managed a chuckle, his speech still slurred. "Arrr, I'm the king of the sea now, aren't I?" Sandy texted back, "Definitely the king of the dental seas! 🐠👑💃" Pearl sent a GIF of a fish doing a celebratory dance. "Your teeth are now part of the ocean's treasure! 💃💃💃" The playful banter between the friends continued, with each text bringing a little more life to Plankton's droopy eye.