A/N So today I opened my laptop to find a document with the following message at the beginning of it, left by my younger sister:

"Will you do me a favor and put this in on your fanfiction account? I don't want to get my own account, since I probably won't do anymore of these. I just had this idea as an MBS one-shot. I would like credit for it, but if that isn't possible, it's okay if you take it as your own. I just really wanted it out there. Read through it for me and tell me what you think, maybe? ('-') "

Hope you guys enjoy her story! She'll love it if you read/review!

"George Washington's elbow is in my face," Constance announced loudly. With a scowl, Sticky scooted closer to Reynie and adjusted his seat belt.

The children were seated in the back of the station wagon, with Rhonda driving and Milligan riding in the passenger seat. They were heading home from an outing to the movie theater. This particular outing had required a large amount of begging and triple-checking of ratings before the parents gave their consents. It wasn't until after the party left that it occurred to the adults that the four children would sit in three car seats.

So it happened that Constance was sitting on Sticky's lap.

"Kate," Constance demanded, "I require your paper and pencil." She held out both hands. "I know you have it in your precious bucket." Kate, amused and somewhat unsettled, sighed and fished out the required items. She handed them over without saying a word.

Reynie noticed two things about this exchange. The first was that Kate had never cared much for Constance's poetry, yet now carried the appropriate tools for the little girl to compose a sonnet if she so desired. The other thing that caught Reynie's attention was the fact that no one was speaking. Excluding the adults, that is; they were now passionately arguing if Rocket's and Groot's partnership contained parallels to that of Han Solo and Chewbacca. The children had discussed their feelings of Guardians of the Galaxy when exiting the dark theater (and, in Constance's case, stated that a talking raccoon shouldn't stray past the moon), but were mostly silent during the ride home. Even Constance was keeping her complaints to a bare minimum.

Constance heaved an exaggerated sigh, snapping Reynie back to the present. "You're all thinking about Mr. Benedict, why don't you just say so?" The older children looked amongst themselves, surprised and almost a little embarrassed. Sticky began to reach for his spectacles, but turned it into a head scratch when he remembered his contact lenses.

Kate twirled a strand of hair between two fingers. "Well," she began, "I feel guilty. Mr. Benedict's still got his narcolepsy, hasn't he? We're all having fun and feeling carefree, and he's still snoring at the drop of a hat!" She emphasized her point by yanking the strand of twisted hair, then immediately wished she hadn't.

"But he can't do anything now," Sticky pointed out. "He doesn't have the Whisperer anymore, and it's kind of destroyed."

"Sticky, what's a big word for 'bad'?"

The older three looked at Constance, who was furiously scribbling in the notebook. Reynie gave Sticky a look that said Go ahead.

"Um, there's unpleasant, nefarious, malevolent―"

"No, no," she interrupted, "those are all so run-of-the-mill. I need something bigger, and I want it to start with I, H, or P."

Kate adopted a quizzical look. "Why I, H, or P?"

Constance ignored her.

"Um, how about infamous, horrid, or penetrating?" Sticky offered.

"Not big enough."

"Inharmonious, horrendous, or profane?"

"Nope."

"Injurious, hostile, or . . . . perverse?"

"Uh-uh."

"Inhumane, horrific, or perfidious?"

"There!" she cried, scribbling in the notebook again. (Sticky sat back, relieved, for he had run out of synonyms beginning with I, H, or P.)

"What does that have to do with Mr. Benedict's narcolepsy?" Kate asked, confused and partially annoyed. In answer, Constance tore a page from the notebook and handed it to Kate. She read it and passed it to Sticky, snickering. Sticky's response was a bit more indignant, but he smiled nonetheless. Reynie, upon reading it, simply burst out laughing. He couldn't help it.

Reynie also saw something hidden in Constance's new poem. It told him right away that she had read their minds sooner than she had let on, and had already come up with a potential solution to the problem.

"See?" Constance said expectantly. "I can do it! I can take away his stupid narcogypsy!"

"Narcolepsy," Sticky corrected.

Constance scowled, but held back a retort. "I can hypnotize it out of him!"

Kate and Sticky looked uncertainly at one another. Kate was about to set her hand on Constance's shoulder and discourage the idea when Reynie cut in. "I think it's worth a try," he said.

Constance was so overcome that she flung herself at Reynie, hugging him with almost the amount of ferocity as Kate's hugs. It was no easy task, considering the seat belt kept Constance from moving too far, and kept Reynie from moving out of the way. "Oh, I knew you'd agree with me! I knew it, I knew it!"

Sticky shrugged. "Well, if Reynie approves . . . ."

" . . . . Then it's good enough for us!" Kate finished, and Sticky nodded emphatically.

The station wagon pulled up in front of the stone house. "Everybody out," Rhonda called.

The four children raced to Mr. Benedict's office.