Inside an abandoned church in bob esponja seco, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me bob esponja seco for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “bob esponja seco, hail bob esponja seco, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “bob esponja seco, bob esponja seco, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “bob esponja seco” prayers.