Mr. Krab's anchor-shaped house was freshly painted. Sandy marveled at the many paintings and knick knacks sorted among his walls.
"Like what ye see?"
Sandy nodded.
"Would ye like something to drink, my dear?"
"Soda pop would be alright."
Mr. Krabs went to the kitchen and poured her a glass of Cola. From the kitchen doorway, he spied on her in the living room. He liked the way her suit fit snuggly on her tail. She was not looking in his direction, so he slipped a roofy into her drink.
"Here ye are," he said, watching her closely as she opened a compartment in her suit, pulled it up to take a sip.
In just a short while, Sandy was feeling very strange.
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