- I can't hear you.
Aye, aye, Captain!
SpongeBob SquarePants!
- Ready?
SpongeBob SquarePants!
- SpongeBob
SquarePants!
- Oh, Sheldon.
This has been the best birthday I've ever had.
- And it ain't over yet.
It's time for the birthday girl to open her presents.
Ta-da.
- Oh?
- It's a gift certificate for tango lessons.
- Oh, you know I'd love to dance with you, sweetie,
but we've tried this before.
And if you recall—
- Yeah?
Oh, yeah?
Yee-haw.
- It did not go well.
- This time is going to be different.
Because your other birthday present is this.
The Leg Yanker Five Zillion.
This is for you, baby.
- Oh.
- Hmm, nice weather up here.
Whoa.
- Well, hello, tall, green, and evil.
- May I have this dance?
- Love the new stems, Plankton.
Whoa.
- It's 8:00 p.m. already.
Where's our dance instructor?
- Hello, class.
- I'm your tango instructor, Susie Groove.
And when I'm done with you, this is how you gotta move.
So everyone start dancing, and I'll come
around and give you some tips.
- You're breaking the first rule, honey.
It takes two to tango.
- Sorry, Miss Groove.
Mr. Krabs ordered me to be Pearl's tango partner tonight,
but she just doesn't dig my tangy moves.
- SpongeBob, you can't tango.
I need a real dance partner,
not a cackling, bow-legged goofball.
No offense.
- I took it as a compliment.
- I can teach anyone to tango.
All you gotta do is...
- Wow, you can tango.
Thanks to Susie Groove.
- That's too close to tango.
- One, two, three.
One, two, three.
Relax, Sheldon.
- I'm trying, my little whirling dervish,
but these legs have minds of their own.
Not that way, you idiots.
Damn you.
Hya!
- Compose yourself, darling.
We're in public.
- I know.
I just need something to balance me.
See?
It works.
Uh-oh.
Wait, I got it.
I got it.
- Stop dancing!
- Ow. - Sorry, Susie.
- I just washed my legs, and I can't do a thing with them.
- Legs ain't your problem, honey.
If you want to tango, you got to learn
to dance with your hips.
- With my lips?
This isn't working.
- Ugh.
- That's because I said hips.
Watch me.
All you got to do is...
- Wow, your hips are so hip.
You got your work cut out for you, Sheldon.
- My hips can't do that.
- Of course they can.
You got to force them to do it.
The tango is physical, emotional,
and most importantly, aggressive.
- What?
Aggressive?
Now you're talking my language.
- Yeah, we speak fluent aggression.
- Good.
Tap into that aggression and put it in your hips.
Now, abrazo.
Embrace.
Abrazo.
- Ready?
All you gotta do is...
- Terrific tangoing, Planktons.
- Yeah.
I thought we were good.
- Oh, how nice of you to say.
- Abrazo, my stinky cheese.
- Abrazo, my rotten rose.
- Oh, no, I accidentally dropped my spike strip.
Oopsie.
- We're the king and queen of tango.
- OK, Planktons, take four.
Ahh!
- That wasn't very nice of Plankton and Karen.
- No, it wasn't, but that's the tango, honey.
- Bravo, Planktons.
Nice aggression.
- Oh, thank you, Susie.
I haven't had this much fun since I got defragged.
- I'd say we're the best in the class, wouldn't you,
Miss Groove?
- I think you're both great, but my top students
might disagree.
Top students?
- Yeah.
They're late today.
- The tango masters have arrived.
- Sorry we're late.
Bubble Bass needed clean underwear.
- Mother.
- Bubble Bass and his mom?
- That's right.
Mother and I have won the Undersea Tango Championship
three years in a row.
We're the best.
- But yet somehow, and without warning, we're the best!
- I smell a dance-off.
- Insects first.
Hmph.
Ta-da.
Well, try and out-tango that.
- Don't mind if we do.
- Huh?
- I said we're the best.
Abrazo.
- Looks like someone ordered a Bass sandwich.
- Well, that was fun.
But I guess we're not aggressive enough
to be the best.
- Nobody is more aggressive than us.
They just have more practice.
If only there was some way we could cheat and show them
who's really the best.
- Let's just go home, Sheldon.
Here, this fell out of your pocket.
- Ooh, it's my Ray-Ray ray, the device
that turns me into my alter ego with great hair, Ray-Ray.
That'll make me more aggressive.
- Ooh, you're right, Plankton.
My Ray-Ray is the only one who could take charge of this.
Hold still.
- It's Ray-Ray, baby.
- Oops.
Sorry, wrong old man.
- It's Ray-Ray, baby.
- Looks like someone ordered a cold plate of revenge.
- With extra humiliation.
- Tango rematch, honey.
- No.
- Whoo!
- Whoa!
Whoo!
Go, Ray-Ray, go.
- I want to hate the Planktons, but they're so good.
- Oh, there, there, there.
- He dances like an angel.
- Of death.
- By the tango vested in me, I pronounce Karen and Ray-Ray
my top students, honey.
- We did it, Ray-Ray.
We're the best.
- Happy birthday, Karen-cakes, top of the world.
Now for the big finish.
Oh, no.
Too much friction.
Oh my—
- My legs!
Sorry, that's my line.
- Here, Plankton, you can borrow my legs.
- No, thanks.
Mine are growing back already.
Thank you, Karen.
- It takes two to tango.
Come here, Ray-Ray.
The name's Ray-Ray, baby.
Uh-oh.
- Huh?
Hmm?
- Mmm.
Mm-hmm.
I just love breakfast.
- I don't mind overpaying if it's breakfast.
- Ooh, that money looks tasty.
- Do you mind?
- Sorry.
All these people eating breakfast is making me hungry.
Hungry for more customers that is.
- Speaking of customers, stop bothering mine.
- Ahh!
- Well, that sure kick-started my day.
- Morning, Mr. Krabs.
- Good morning, Krusty crew.
I have a fantastic idea for me restaurant.
- We're opening a Krusty Krab on the moon?
- We're closing down forever?
- What? No.
From now on, the Krusty Krab will start serving breakfast.
And you two get to come to work even earlier.
- Hmm?
- Oh, boy, I get to make Krabby Patties for breakfast.
- No, no, no, no, no.
People don't want patties in the morning.
They want bacon and eggs and hash browns.
You know, breakfast stuff.
See if you can whip up a stack of pancakes, boy-o.
- Yes, sir.
- Give it the old mouth test, Mr. Squidward.
- These pancakes taste like a Krabby Patty.
- Oh.
I guess I only know how to cook Krabby Patties.
- Oh, I was afraid of this.
Go down to the bookstore and pick up the breakfast
cookbook I ordered.
You need to expand your repertoire a bit, boy-o.
- Hello, I'm here to pick up a cookbook for Mr. Krabs.
- Well, of course, sir.
Here you go.
- Are you sure this is the right book?
- Looks right to me.
- Whoops, pardon me.
- What a polite little hunk of cheese.
I have a book on hold, last name Witch, first name Evil.
- Certainly.
Must be this one.
Your book, ma'am.
- I forgot my spectacles.
Hey, buddy, you sure this is the magic book I ordered?
- Pretty sure.
- Huh?
If you say so.
- Uh-oh.
- I got the cookbook, Mr. Krabs.
- Hurry up, boy-o.
Breakfast don't last all day, you know.
- Love potions, summoning demons, the undead and you.
Oh, breakfast.
"Stacks of woe."
That must mean pancakes.
This book sure calls for some weird ingredients.
Mr. Krabs, do we have any zombie teeth,
dragon's breath, eye of newt?
- Well, there should be some in the back of the freezer.
- Really?
- What?
I can't pass up a sale.
- Found them.
Must be cooked in an iron cauldron.
Ooh, classy.
I think there's one in here somewhere.
Oh, there you are.
- Oh, they're glorious.
- Hmm.
Looks tasty.
Mr. Squidward, you're up again.
- Say, these are pretty good.
Breakfast is served.
- Your oatmeal, sir.
- Mmm.
Deliciously bland.
- I woke up before noon for this?
Where is my morning sustenance?
- Your waffles.
- A meal most toothsome.
Time to pay for my repast.
Ow.
Egad, my hindquarters have gone rogue.
- I am beyond offended.
- Whoa.
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
- Who ordered the parfait?
- Huh? Huh? Huh?
Of course.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
- SpongeBob.
What the ham and eggs is going on around here?
- Oh, I don't think I've got the hang of this breakfast
thing, Mr. Krabs.
- A cup of milk?
Two eggs?
A loaf of bread?
And kelp sugar?
Eh, all right.
Shoo.
French toast?
Hash browns?
Quiche?
Huevos rancheros?
What the heck?
What's wrong with this blasted spell book?
"Uncle Jimmy's Breakfast Magic"?
It's a cookbook.
Oh.
I better find out who got my spell book, and fast.
Huh?
Right after I finish my quiche.
- Why is this happening?
- Maybe all the weird stuff I've been cooking
caused all of this.
Would explain the cauldron too.
And the flying cookbook.
The cookbook is using tasty breakfast
treats to create a monster.
- Oh, so this is where my spell book went.
- Ooh, a customer.
Take her order, Squidward.
- Uh, thanks, but I couldn't eat another bite.
I'm here to swap books with you.
I think my spell book got mixed up with your cookbook.
But first, I better take care of this foodie fiasco.
Flippity floppity food.
Ah! Not maple syrup.
I'm sticky.
So sticky.
Hey, you, the spongy kid with the wand.
- That's a spatula.
- My wand.
- Well, I'll lend you some of my magic.
The only way to stop breakfast is with its mortal enemy—
dinner.
- Oh, I can do dinner.
Pippity poppity pot roast.
- No.
Squidward is not part of a balanced breakfast,
a triple-decker Krabby Patty.
- With cheese.
Wah!
- Mmm.
Ahh!
Oh!
I need a vacation.
- Hey, kid, do you want to be my apprentice?
You got a real knack for magic.
- Thanks.
But the only magic I need is the delicious
taste of a Krabby Patty.
- Eh.
A patty?
It's a little early for me.
Unless...
Hmm.
A Krabby waffle.
- Ooh, a Krabby waffle, eh?
I have another brilliant idea.
We will no longer be serving breakfast.
From now on, the Krusty Krab will be serving "brinner."
- Ooh, the breakfast-dinner duo.
- And this time, I picked up the new cookbook myself.
Hey, we've got customers.