[WP] Like Popeye, you to have a superpower that is activated by eating a specific food. That food: mayonnaise.

All my life, I was mocked. They called me slow, told me I wouldn’t amount to nothin'. Said I was too fat. Said I was worthless. And you know what? For a while, I believed ‘em. That is, until I discovered my big secret. Ever since then, I learned to stop giving a fuck about just about everything. And that’s what lead me to where I am now.

My friend needed help. My friends need help a lot if I'm bein' honest with ya. They ain’t a smart bunch, but they keep my life entertainin', so I can’t complain. This friend in particular was an odd one. He wasn’t always the nicest, but I knew some part of him was genuine. That’s why I couldn’t just leave ‘im stranded.

He was in deep though. Made promises he couldn’t keep. Not without some backup. Musicians are a breed all their own, I tell ya what. They can appear controlled and well tempered, but piss one off and all hell breaks loose. They have an anger inside ‘em unlike anything I've seen in any other group of people. And my friend was staring that wrath in the face.

He needed to give a performance. It was last minute, and he didn’t have the cash needed to pay for a proper group. So he rounded up whoever he could. It was a ragtag bunch. To be frank with ya, there wasn’t a talented person in the entire lot. But it was all we had. We practiced every day, for hours on end. It wasn’t going well. My friend grew more desperate as the big day approached. Something had to give. It was time I stepped in…

I told him I could help. Told him I had the solution to all his problems, he'd just have to trust me. He asked me what instrument I could play that would have such a large impact on the performance. I swallowed hard as I brought out my big secret. The jar of mayonnaise rested tenderly in my hands; I dare not drop it, that would be a travesty. My friend looked at me incredously. The words spilled out his mouth, “No Patrick, mayonnaise is not an instrument.” A smile crossed my face as I opened the lid, “No, it’s not… It’s a weapon.”

Without missing a beat, I shoved a glob of the sweet white nectar into my mouth. It hit immediately. Knowledge of music theory flooded into my brain. I suddenly had the collective memories of the world’s greatest musicians. Mozart, Bach, Beethoven; I knew everything they once knew. I cracked my joints and gave everyone in the room a steely look, “It’s time to rock.”

The performance went off without a hitch. It took a lot of work, but I managed to get that band whipped into shape. The crowd loved us. Only problem was, it took all of my precious mayonnaise to do it. I can feel its effects wearing off. I know it won’t be long before I'm back to the old Patrick. To the Patrick the people of Bikini Bottom are used to. And you know what? I'm okay with that. Because no one in this town can compare to Patrick mother-fucking Star.