Colour tattoos of SpongeBob SquarePants, Patrick Star and Plankton across a chest and upper arm, with a black and grey floral tattoo on the other shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

SpongeBob and friends on chest and arm

Chest · Mixed · Photo

A shirtless torso shows a large colour tattoo of SpongeBob SquarePants on the chest, surrounded by flowers and a blue striped background. The left upper arm carries Patrick Star, Plankton and other cartoon figures in bold colour with smooth shading. The right shoulder and upper arm have a black and grey floral design with softer shading.

Chest Upper arm Shoulder Cartoon Flower Peony Sea creature

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Gertie Pollard had run the chip van on Margate's harbour wall for nineteen years, and in all that time nobody had asked her to fry a sponge. Then on Tuesday a parcel arrived from a woman in Ramsgate. Inside was a yellow kitchen sponge with a grinning face drawn on in marker, two cut-out starfish taped to its sides, and a note in careful capitals: DAD WANTED THIS DONE IN YOUR BATTER. DON'T ASK WHY.

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Her nephew Ronan, who had come down to help with the lunch rush, leaned over the hatch and squinted at it. "That's the square one," he said. "And that's his mate, the pink starfish with the vest. Where's the little green bloke with the eyes on stalks?" Gertie said the green bloke could go and boil himself, and she dipped the sponge in the cabinet of cold batter anyway, because a promise was a promise and the parcel had come with postage paid.

The sponge did not sink. It bobbed in the fryer like a cork, and when she lifted it out with the wire basket it had gone the colour of a good kipper, crisp at the edges, with the marker face still smiling through the crust. Ronan said it looked like a cartoon had been left in the sun too long. Gertie said it looked like breakfast.

At four o'clock a man in a striped shirt came up the harbour steps, peered at the menu board and asked for one portion of chips with a sponge on the side. He was not a customer, Gertie decided, and he was certainly not a sailor, because sailors do not wear slippers. He paid in coins, ate the sponge in three bites without a word, and left a note under the ketchup bottle: MORE NEXT WEEK. TELL THE DOG THANKS.