Timmy Turner walked down the street with his head hung low and sighed deeply.

He had been rejected by Trixie yet again. He despondently wondered if he should even bother trying anymore. No matter what crazy scheme he used to try and win her affection, it never worked. For all she cared, he was just a fly buzzing around her.

Timmy then wondered if she was even worth it. She was such a stuck up, pompous, rich girl. All she really had was her looks, and nothing else. He tried to imagine what he saw in her when he was in middle school, but found nothing.

He stopped walking and continued to think.

Had he been pining after her all these years simply because he hadn't looked at anyone else? Well, he decided that then and there that he was officially done.

He had been trying to get her for five years, and he was sick of waiting. He was fifteen years old now, and he had wasted so much time on Trixie that he hadn't gotten to know any other girls. Except for Tootie, but even she had a boyfriend.

Timmy suddenly realized that it was practically impossible for him to get a girlfriend.

Up until now, he hadn't thought of making female friends. He was too focused on Trixie.

Timmy figured he would just give up on girls altogether. They were too confusing anyway.

Pleased with his decision, he began walking again.

Then he suddenly stopped as a thought came to him.

What do I do now?

He had spent most of his free time coming up with ideas to woo Trixie up until this point. He didn't have any friends to hang out with. At the end of middle school Chester had moved away and A.J had gone to a private school.

He'd even had to say goodbye to Cosmo and Wanda, because his parents decided he was too old for a babysitter.

Still, he was glad Jorgan had allowed him to keep his memories of his godparents. Sometimes it was good to reminisce on those old times.

But there was still the question of what he was going to do now that romancing Trixie was out of the question. Maybe he could join a club? But then again, nobody would probably want him. Or he could do some extra credit for school. But he wasn't really smart enough for that.

Then a realization hit him.

I should get a job.

It was perfect, it would both occupy his time and earn him some cash to fuel his video game habit. He smiled at the brilliance of his own idea.

Feeling invigorated, he ran the rest of the way home and scooped up the newspaper that was sitting on the front step. He opened the door of his house and sat on his living room couch.

He scanned the paper for the wanted section and pulled it out, tossing the rest away.

His eyes roamed over the ads and tried to find something good.

An intern? no. A busboy? no. A test subject? Definitely not.

Then his eyes fell on a certain ad that intrigued him.

I need someone to clean my apartment every other day of the week. Will pay 100 dollars for every cleaning. Better do a good job.

Cleaning, huh? He certainly had experience in that field. Vicky had made him clean the house almost every time she babysat. But who in the world lived in such squalor that they needed their apartment cleaned every other day?

Oh, well. He decided that it was a good a job as any. And the 100 bucks didn't sound too bad either.

He grabbed his jacket and walked out of the house with the paper in hand, heading out to find the address indicated on it.