Hey freinds! A new adventure is approaching! And an new enemy. This is the re-written version of the fanfic, that was lost to a harddrive-crash last winter. To be honest, this version is much better ;-) I would be grateful for reveiws, since I'm not very sure about how the ending turned out. And now enjoy the story!
"Vi, really, you have my deepest respect! This is by far, by very far, the absolutely ultimative most boring and lame stuff, that I ever had to do!" Wilbur complained, "Even more boring than school! And school is already unspeakably boring!"
Vi groaned in annoyance. She had imagined this evening differently, than listening to Wilbur's endless complaints all the time.
"When school is located right here on the boredom-scale" he continued, holding his hand over his head, "then this crap is just above the roof of this house!"
There was a pause. Violet didn't even think about to say something. The least thing she would do was to start a fight with him. Yet, this was by far the most terrible Friday evening ever.
"School is useful al least, since you learn something when you pay attention!" Wilbur continued to bleat around, he just didn't get tired of it. Violet only groaned, tortured, "But this is so incredibly unnecessarily! Old-fashioned! Yes, Violet Parr, you are old fashioned, hopelessly outdated! The progress-express was in town and you've missed it! There are robots for things like this! And Lazlo has a color-gun! With this, this stupid work would go much faster! Why do we need to do this anyway?!"
They were painting Violet's room. Violet had invited her buddies Wilbur and Pete to help her, because she thought it would surely be a lot of fun with them. Together, the three of them would have completed the work within one hour. And as a reward, there would be some fine food and a movie. Painting a room: Actually, not a very demanding task, and in fact they could be done long time ago. But on the contrary. After she had to prevent Pete from building a color bomb, that would had certainly blown up her room, he had left offended. And since then Wilbur couldn't stop to spoil her evening by endlessy complaining. Obviously, people from the future were not accustomed to do physical work. Vi always felt a certain pride when she accomplished something with her own hands, but in this time, people didn't seem to appreciate this anymore.
Wilbur, however, saw the matter quite differently. For him, this venture was an absolute waste of time. What was so great about to get all splotchy with paint and to get sore muscles? They could use the time to make much cooler stuff.
"Then why are you still here?!" Vi asked finally, not even trying to hide her bad mood. She just couldn't understand it. He came from a family, where they were throwing their dinner at each other every day. And now Wilbur bitched around because of some splotches of colour?! That was kinda ironic.
"THIS is an excellent question!" Wilbur exclaimed, annoyed.
Vi was painting the opposite wall so that she stood with her back to Wilbur, and so she couldn't se what he did behind her. When she finally turned around, she saw that all he had finished painting so far was just the bottom third of the wall. Well, if he wasn't even able to work properly, she had no reason to listen to his whining any longer!
"Enough for today." Vi said dryly, put her paint roller into the bucket and wiped her hands on her dirty work pants...
"Yeah, finally!" Wilbur exclaimed with relief and jumped up as if he had just been waiting for her to say this. "Come on, we pick up Pete, go to Earl's, eat some ice cream and then we go-"
"No ..." she interrupted. Her voice was quiet but determined, "I mean: Enough for you! I have to finish this," she added, letting her eyes wander through the half blue, half orange room. It was eye-cancer-causing! She would certainly not sleep in this mess.
"But why...?" Wilbur asked disappointed after a pause.
That was too much. Violet was no longer able to remain quiet. Did he seriously expect her, after all his bitchy whining and moaning, that she still wanted to hang out with him today?!
"You're SUCH a pain in my neck today!" she blurted out, "Ever since Pete has left, all I hear is how you complain without a pause, I can't keep it anymore!" she cried, and tore her long blue-black hair. Then she gave him an angry gaze, pushing her lower lip upwards, and put her hands akimbo, "I rather work alone!"
Then she threw her hands in the air and began to walk across the room, annoyed.
"I thought it would be a funny thing with both of you, but I must say, you both really drive me up the wall! First Pete wants to blow up my room- Why does this boy always has so many explosives with him anyway? - and then you don't stop grouching like a baby!" Suddenly she stopped and crossed her arms, her voice was quiet again, yet keenly.
"You, Wilbur Robinson, are a fun-killer!"
In shock, Wilbur gasped for air. A fun-killer? He?! Never before he had been so insulted by somebody! He was so stunned that he wasn't even able to say something. He would have never admitted it, but deep inside his mind he probably knew she was right...
"And you can't even paint properly too! How long did it take you for this small peace, eh?!" she cried irritably, glancing at the clock, "An hour? I thought it would be much, MUCH longer! Thanks to your nagging, I somehow lost my sense of time!" she added cynically.
"Okay, fine!" Wilbur finally cried, offended, yet he tried not to dissemble, however, he failed "Then it's only Pete and me, who pay Earl a visirt, eat ice cream, and enjoy the weather while you can drudge here! Have fun!" he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. Unfortunately, he was still holding the painting roll, so splashes of color flew across the room.
"Wilbur, look out!" Violet cried hastily, gripping his wrists to stop him. Some places, which weren't covered, like her books, some furniture and a small area on her new carpet had been hit.
"Sorry!" Wilbur said sheepishly.
"Okay ..." groaned Vi in a low voice, trying not to get angry again, but when she spoke, she could not prevent her voice from getting loud, "It will remind me forever ... in your incompetence! Now just get you gone!" she added, annoyed and pushed him towards the door of her room.
Annoyed, Wilbur walked home. He had his hands in his pockets and kicked sullenly against a stone. Pete didn't answere his cell phone, and he hadn't been at home. And going to Earl's Ice cream Shop, on a Friday night, all alone, was pathetic. He still couldn't understand why Vi preferred this lame work of room painting, instead of leaving the job and hanging out with him, doing something more entertaining.
"Fun-killer...!" he muttered angrily and kicked the stone again. She had actually called him a fun killer! But she was the one, who rather spend her Friday evening with painting stupid walls the old-fashioned way, instead of having fun! It was Friday after all. They could get some food, go to the movies, to the trampoline-park, playing charge-ball or everything else possible! She was the fun-killer!
When he arrived at home, he had calmed down a little, but he was still annoyed. He trotted into the kitchen and felt sorry for himself because he would have a boring Friday night, with no Vi to hang out. He would simply try to call Pete again... But the guy surely hung out with Liz ... The two were a couple for nearly a month, and although Pete had sworn to him that a girlfriend would never influence his coolness and fun-factor, he was now rarely around. And when Wilbur had a chance to meet him, all he heard was "Liz here, liz there!" It was so terribly annoying. Pete had been so cool once, and now he was nothing more than a henpecked boyfriend. Anyway, Wilbur had looked forward to meet him again today...
In the refrigerator, he found nothing that can soothe his frustration. Only the leftovers from dinner, a half cake, cans and cans of energy drink (Cornelius drank far too much of it) and some strange, green goo, that probably belonged to some experiment.
Wilbur groaned annoyed, went into the living room and let himself fall on the couch all melodramaticly, gracefully throwing an arm over his face. Unfortunately, ther was no one around who could have admired his theatrical performance. He sighed deeply, then he picked up the phone and dialed Pete's number. After the second ring his mother, Edith, answered the phone.
"Oh, hi Wilbur!" she greeted kindly, after he had greeted her, but before he could ask for Pete, she continued: "I'm sorry, but Pete is not available right now..."
Not avaliable..? What was that suppoed to mean? Was he talking a shower or what?
"Okay, I'll wait" he said, since he had nothing better to do.
"Well, I don't think-" Edith began.
"Or I'll call again 5 minutes," he interrupted.
"Uhm ... to be honest, Wilbur, I don't think he wants to talk to anyone ..."
"What happened?" Wilbur asked in surprise. Not even two hours ago, Pete was still in a pretty good mood (even though Vi had prohibited him to build this bomb-thing).
"I'm not sure, but he just returned from a date with Liz..." Pete's mother began reluctantly. Wilbur rolled his eyes and was glad that Edith couldn't see it. Wilbur had known it!
Traitor, Wilbur thought annoyed. Pete had left him alone with Vi and this terribly boring work to meet up with his girlfriend ... Therefor he would get 15 points deducted from his coolness scale! Wilbur was so delved in his thoughts that he didn't really listened to what Edith said.
"Right now he doesn't feel well. But I'll tell him that you called. "
"Okay, thank you very much." he said, than said goodbye and hung up. Then he ran his hands through his raven black hair, annoyed. Having a girlfriend brought nothing but trouble! He dropped onto his back and stared for a few seconds at the ceiling. Then he rolled frantically around on the couch. What should he do tonight? Then suddenly he had an idea and bravely took up the speakerphone of the house.
"Carl?"
"No, it's me, Tallulah," came his cousin's reply. Wilbur wasn't disappointed, he could still ask Carl later.
"The others have let me down ... what are you doing tonight?" he asked her.
"Oh, I'm going to a vernissage, followed by fashion show! It's going to be fantastic, I'm so excited! 'Fashion is art' is the motto! You wanna join me?" Tallulahs voice echoed through the huge living room.
Wilbur gulped. There he would rather have pained walls for the rest of the weekend.
"Erm ... no thanks ..." Wilbur refused, and tried not show his reluctance. However, you could tell from the tone of his voice, that he was disappointed.
"I'm sorry, Wilbur" Tallulah said sympathetically.
"What's Lazlo doing?" Wilbur asked hopefully after a pause. Lazlo and Pete were both quite crazy. Both only had nonsense in their mind. Spending the evening with would be Lazlo fun.
Instead of answering, one of the doors to the living room opened and Tallulah entered. She wore a dress, that was designed impressionistically, the motto seemed to be 'Van Gogh', at least Wilbur meant to recognize the painting "La nuit sur le Rhône étoilée". Her hat was made of yellow, round pompoms, which should represent the stars.
"Lazlo is gone, don't ask me where, I'm not his babysitter!" she said bitchy. Then she let herself fall onto the couch beside him and began to polish their fingernails. Wilbur realized that even her nails were painted impressionistically, each a miniature version of a Van Gogh painting.
"And Uncle Art?" Wilbur asked.
"At work, I think he has to deliver something to the delta quadrant ..."
"Gaston?"
"At some competition. He wants to defend his speed record again, and I think he said something about beeing the first man, who breaks the sound barrier unaided."
"Aunt Billie?" Wilbur asked again, and his voice became more and more frustrated.
"On a locomotive exhibition"
"Anyone else?" Wilbur asked, now completely desperate.
"Your mother is on a concert, my parents have their weekly poker night, Granny and Granpa are skydiving in Ecuador, Joe is busy with his training, Carl is gone, at maintenance, as far as I know ... and even Lefty has his free day... the entire house is empty – well, except for you... " she corrected herself.
"Oh man..." Wilbur said with a pitiful groan and seemed to shrink.
"Oh, poor little Wilbur," Tallulah said, and ruffled his pitch-black hair. Wilbur just endured it, and when she was finished, he arranged his hair again, sulky. Tallulah had always been kind of a big sister to him, they had always come along quite well, even though they were so utterly different. She gave him a sympathic smile and looked a little helpless, because she couldn't solve his problem.
"Sure you don't want to join me?" she asked. Wilbur only shook his head frustrated.
"Well then, I got to go," Tallulah then said, and rose from the couch, "The opening starts at eight clock o'clock"
Wilbur threw a glance at the great retro-clock on the wall.
"Um, Tallulah ... it's already half past eight."
"Of course!" she replied, "I just needed a little longer to find the perfect outfit. Most people think clothes would be just something to throw over, without paying attention to aesthetics and a successful overall composition. Who shows up to such an event in time, leaves the impression that he had not sufficiently taken the time to rethink his wardrobe. I mean, just look at you! How long do you need to choose your clothes and to dress?" she said, pointing at him as an illustrative example. Wilbur didn't take it personally. This was Tallulah, after all.
"Fashion is art, and you should never underestimate it's message. So, what do you say?"
"About what?"
"How do I look?"
"A perfect dream!" he said, enthusiastically over the top. For a moment he imagined Vi in this dress, and had to cover his mouth with a hand to avoid laughing out loud. Tallulah didn't notice, or rather, she didn't really care.. For her only the statements of true fashion experts mattered. Everybody else wasn't just smart or sophisticated enough to understand.
As Tallulah had left, Wilbur stretched out on the couch again, staring at the ceiling. Then, after a seemingly interminable time, he turned on the TV and switched through all 255 channels, but he found nothing that caught his attention. He turned the TV off again, sighed and looked at the clock. Only three minutes had passed?! Should the entire night pass that slow?
"Boring!" he exclaimed in frustration, but there was no one, who could have heard him. Then he decided to call Vi. Maybe she was now finished with painting, so that they could do something together.
"Hey, Wil!" she greeted him cheerfully. How could she be so cheerful, when she had to do such a god-aweful work? Well, at least she didn't seem to be angry anymore.
"Hey..." He began unmotivated, "I was just wondering if you feel like hanging out."
"Um ..." she began uncertainly.
"Are you even finished with your room?" he added hastily. If not, he would just call her back later.
"Yeah, long ago" Vi said coolly, then she added after a pause: "Liz helped me out."
Wilbur felt a sting of jealousy in his heart. She threw him out and then hung around with Liz? He was not really jealous, in fact, he was mad at himself. If he only had not complained all the time, he would now do something with Vi. Liz never complained, so she would be willing slave for Vi's stupid renovation-thing. That was so unfair! The two girls sat in Vi's room now and had fun while he was here all by himself, vegetating in boredom! How nice, that they let him know! He could hardly suppress his annoyance.
"Oh, how nice for you!" he said sarcastically.
"Now don't start bitching" he heard Vi's calm voice. She obviously seemed to have anticipated his reaction. Now, to top it all, he became predictable too!?
"I said, if you help me, you would have gotten something to eat and a movie of your choice as a reward, but you did not want to help me. Now don't be offended when I spend the evening with someone else!"
"I'm not offended!" he disagreed and noticed how he failed to control his tone. He sounded like a sulky child.
"No, absolutely not!" Violet replied sarcastically.
"All right. Then I wish you two a very nice evening!" he said, teasing, but Vi remained all relaxed.
"Same for you, Wilbur!" she replied so cheerfully, it was disgusting. He hung up the phone and threw it on the other end of the couch, then buried his face in his hands. The evening was over, hopelessly ruined.
But suddenly he had to smile inevitably, when he heard the shrill laugh of a child. Shortly afterwards he heard quick, clumsy steps towards the living room. Wilma, his younger sister, who was just eighteen months old, toddled, suddenly, like lightning through the living room. Her hair was tied into two little pigtails, with each step bobbing up and down, just like the bright yellow dress she was wearing. She had only recently learned how to walk and already ran around through the house (and the neighbourhood), as if she had never done anything else ... However, it was dangerous to let her run around unattended. That moment he realized that someone still had to be here. Somebody was taking care of Wilma. No one had told him anything about babysitting, so who was left? He wanted to get up to catch the little girl, when suddenly his father ran into the living room frantically, almost hysterically.
"Is she here?!" he cried, quite out of breath. Wilbur pointed to the yellow spot, which was moving through the room with incredible speed (for a toddler). Cornelius cut her off and grabbed Wilma, who then gave a squeaky laugh.
"I can't even let you out of sight for five seconds!" scolded Cornelius, still out of breath.
"I turned around only for a moment to get her bottle, and suddenly I hear her flying through the transport tubes," he said, then turned to Wilma, who he held in his arms, "transport tubes are no toys, young lady!"
Then he dropped exhausted on the couch in order to catch his breath, Wilma on his lap.
"This house is too big ..." Cornelius said between the breaths, after he had chased Wilma through almost every room of this building.
"Or maybe you're just in a bad shape..." Wilbur replied with a grin, and therefore recieved a pretty grim gaze. Cornelius had never been particularly athletic, finally, he spent most of his time in his laboratory. Yet, it kind of was a weak spot.
"Weren't you hanging out with Vi and Pete?" Cornelius asked to change the subject. Wilbur only gave a frustrated groan. Now he had Cornelius attention.
"Hey ... are you okay?" he asked anxiously.
"Yeaaaah..." Wilbur began tormented, "But noooo... Vi is doing some boring bore-stuff... and I just don't feel like it." He ended quietly.
Cornelius had to admit that he didn't exactly know how to deal with a bored teenager. He had no idea what to say. Too bad that Franny wasn't here. Suddenly Wilma squeaked.
"Wibu!" she squealed and stretched out her little hands towards Wilbur, making big eyes.
"Wima!" Wilbur replied with an equally high squeeking voice and tapped Wilma on her tiny nose. The little girl giggled, and somehow that made him feel better. But then he noticed his father's horrified gaze.
"What?" Wilbur asked, confused.
"She can say your name already?!" Cornelius blurted out, with a mixture of disbelief and despair.
"Sure," Wilbur said, shrugging, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, "for a week or so"
"For a week ...?" Cornelius repeated, completely stunned. This information seemed devastating. He made a long, disappointed face. Then suddenly his expression became morose. He picked up Wilma and held her face in front of his.
"Come on, Wilma, say Daddy! Daddy!"
"I don't think that this works. She's too smart for that." Wilbur said, but his father was too obsessed on teaching his daughter to say "daddy", so that he didn't heard him.
"Who am I? Yes, who am I?" he asked again and again, with a high pitched voice. All in all, it looked pretty ridiculous, and Wilma did not seem very enthusiastic about her fathers strange behaviour. Only when Wilbur started to make faced behind Cornelius back, she began to laugh again.
"Wibu!" she squealed.
"No, honey, I'm not Wilbur ..." Cornelius sighed, discouraged, "That's not possible... What am I doing wrong?"
Wilbur just shrugged his shoulders, trying not to grin.
"Well, as long as she only can say and 'Wibu' and 'Mama', I'm still optimistic. Her next word will certainly be 'daddy'!"
"Yesterday, she also said 'Tallulah'..."
"You're kidding!" Cornelius became pale.
"Although it sounded more like 'Tula' ... and I also heard her saying Lefty's name" Wilbur continued.
"Lefy!" Wilma cried and threw up her arms.
"And 'Carl' too" Wilbur added, for the sake of completeness.
"Cal!" Wilma shouted, jumped from Cornelius lap and hopped over the couch before Wilbur finally snapped her and put her on his lap. Cornelius, however, seemed devastated.
"... This is exasperating..." he exclaimed, slapping his hands to his face, "I am the greatest genius in the world, but teaching a toddler to talk, I can't accomplish!"
Wilbur couldn't suppress a smile, he had never seen his father so grim. Sure, sometimes he was confronted with seemingly intractable problems concerning new inventions, like the time machine, but with hard work, there was hardly a problem, that Cornelius could not solve. But this was something else. He could not just press a button or flip a switch. He would just have to wait.
Cornelius started to relax slowly and smiled, but still seemed to be in a huff.
"You can't accelerate it. She says it when she says it"
"I don't want to wait again until she can say everbody else's names until she learns mine!" Cornelius muttered and gave Wilbur a gloomy look.
Wilbur suddenly started laughing so hard, that he almost felt sorry for it. He tried to pull himself together, but he couldn't help it. So, that was it? A father's hurt pride? That was the reason, why Wilma should learn to say 'daddy' as quickly as possible? Wilbur had never imagined his father doing something that... well, stupid.
"Are you ready ...?" Cornelius said, as Wilbur had calmed down slowly.
"Yes, I'm sorry," Wilbuur said, still chuckling, with Wilma on his lap. She didn't understand what was going on, yet she just joined the laughter.
"What was my first word?" Wilbur asked then. Cornelius seemed unnerved, his expression darkened.
"Not 'daddy' ..." he said, and seemed to think of dark memories. Wilbur could not help it, he had to laugh again, so hard that tears filled his eyes. Why did his father took this issue so seriously? It didn't matter when a child learned to say 'daddy', as long as it would just learn it someday. The whole situation was just ridiculous!
Cornelius mood became better, when he noticed how similar his two children looked when they were laughing, even though the age difference was so big. He thought for a while.
"It was 'papnfusha'" he said finally.
"What? What does that stand for?" Wilbur asked, after he had calmed down.
"Yeah, we wondered about that for a long time too... until we found out that -" he could not continue because he had to suddenly start laughing himself when he remembered, how desperately Franny and him had tried to find out what Wilbur meant by this strange word. He had said it continuously, and nobody knew why. They had offered him biscuits, chocolate, candy, toys, anything he wanted but he just didn't stop to cry for it.
"- until we found out, that it should mean 'Captain Future'" Cornelius could barely speak from laughing. Wilbur, on the other hand, didn't find this so funny...