So, yeah. I read the prompt, had this character in my head, and was all like, O.O this would be PERFECT FOR HER!
This is for the Frying Pan of Doom challenge on the YJ challenge forum. Also, warning for an OC. I know I shouldn't but… it's like Pringles, ya know?
If you can't do as you wish, do as you can. – Yiddish Proverb
"It was a normal day in Effingham, Florida, like, the sun was shining, well not quite yet, too early y'know, and like, the birds were sleeping, and like, the giant alligator man was about to eat my charges… oh wait, No, that's a new one, 'cause like, usually its regular alligators, like, trying to eat my charges, I mean, Like, I'm almost certain you haven't heard of me, 'cause like, I'm totally just a babysitter, and like, my powers include, like, eye's in the back of my head, like, first aid for, like, anything, and like, The Frying Pan of Doom, which is how I met y'all, 'Cause see, like, what happened was, like, I was in the house with my two charges, and like, you know the moon is glowing, birds are sleeping, kids are doing their thing, and then would you believe it, like, this giant totally gross looking 'gator guy comes out of the bathroom, and I'm all like "ARE YOU SERIOUS? REALLY?", 'Cause like, just last week, these, like, demon-y things were like, totally trying to hurt my charges, and I'm all like "Oh, Hell No," and then I like, totally killed all of them with my Frying Pan of Doom, which like, kills whatever you smack it with into like, poached eggs, and like, it's not exclusive to poached eggs, I mean, sometimes I'll use it and like, bacon and scrambled eggs, or even French Toast once, which is like, totally weird because like, I've never even made French Toast but like, I totally know how, you just have to like, get the bread and dip it in the egg stuff and then fry it, and now that I think about it there's no reason not to have done so before now, because like, I love French Toast, but that's not what the 'gator guy got killed into when I smacked him, he terminated into Grits, which I absolutely hate, 'cause like, I mean, they're completely gross looking, insanely nasty tasting, and don't even bring up the texture, like seriously, and to make it even worse, the grits had bacon in them! Bacon! You don't do that to bacon!"
"So, when you hit Killer Croc with your…"
"Frying Pan of Doom, and it was really more of a smack."
"Ah, excuse me, when you smacked him with your Frying Pan of Doom, he turned into grits?"
"Well, no, he was killed into grits with bacon in them, but like, yeah, was that not clear?"
"And… he can be turned back?"
"Nope, the pan's pretty much a one way, like, instrument of death and cookery. Which is why I like, broke my hand, because, like, once you smack someone with it, that person is like, totally D-E-A-D, not pining for the fjords, an ex-person, 'cause like, it's totally a family heirloom, 'cause like, back when you had to fight a dinosaur, like, uphill both ways, like, through a blizzard to like, just get locked out of school, like, one of my ancestors made it like, accidentally, 'cause like, he wanted an unstoppable weapon of doom, but like, totally bungled his spell, and like, enchanted his wife's favorite frying pan, and she, his wife, was like, totally its first wielder, 'cause like, she smacked him with it when he told her what he'd done, and like, she totally killed him. Most of the family agrees that he was killed into oatmeal, but I've always believed that he was killed into a breakfast steak, but like, I didn't want Superboy to like, get turned into like, buttermilk pancakes, so like, I pulled my smack at the last second, which is like totally stupid, 'cause like, once you swing with the thing, like, it's almost impossible to stop, and like, you'll totally lose control of your weapon and accidentally kill someone, which is like totally permanent, but like I kinda figured that you wouldn't like "Superboy, Breakfast of Hero," so like, I totally pulled my smack, and like, totally broke my hand. So, yeah."
"I'm sorry, perhaps I was unclear. Can he be returned to the shape he was before you, ah, smacked him with your… frying pan of doom?"
"Well… I don't know, I'm like, totally not a witch, I'm like, the babysitter, and like, it's pronounced, like, Frying Pan of Doom."
Aqualad shared a special kind of look with the rest of the Young Justice team. It's the kind of look that says, "You know and I know that this is not normal, but does she? And, if I start laughing, will she be offended?" Kid Flash's shoulders were shaking and his hands were over his mouth, trying to hold the laughter in. Artemis was outright grinning, Superboy looked vaguely queasy, Miss Martian had both of her hands pressed to her mouth, and Robin was standing very still. All of them were at least marginally coated in raw sewage, and the stench of unsavory details filled the closet-sized bathroom.
The Babysitter looked over them all and then said in a voice that made airline stewardesses sound like banshees "Feel free to use the beach towels to clean off. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes." She smiled as she said this, but it was the kind of smile that says "There is only so far I can bend, cully, before I start smacking s*** again." Then, she looked at Aqualad, and waited.
With a very careful glance at the 16 inch in diameter Frying Pan of Doom still tightly clutched in her broken hand, Aqualad looked The Babysitter in the eye and said "Thank you for your time, and breakfast. Ah, would you… like a ride to the hospital for your hand?"
"Nope, I'm still on the clock, and I am obligated to stay 'till my charge's parents get back from wherever they went. However, I would like y'all to have my card, 'cause like, you never know." She smiled her special smile again, one you have to call a smile because there is no other way to describe what she did with her mouth. As she grinned, she reached into her pocket with her unbroken hand and pulled out a small rectangle of paper. On it was printed the words, "The Babysitter, Child-Watcher, House-sitter, Dog-walker, Demon Slayer, Cook, and Etc. E-Mail: ."
Aqualad had reflexively accepted the calling card, and was a bit stumped as to what to do with it.
"Drop me a line if you ever need me, 'kay? Also, turn the emergency cutoff valve on for the toilet. Y'all like, totally broke it when you came in, I'll be right back with some Tupperware for What's-his-face, and some breakfast for all of you." Then, with a long suffering sigh, and a short snort of laughter, The Babysitter turned on her heel, and strode away in her blue-jean overalls and rainbow vertical striped T-Shirt, oversize army green messenger bag gently thumping against her left thigh, button-pins flashing in the early dawn light. The faint rattling of kitchen clutter and the crackle of frying bacon could be heard.
The Babysitter was back in fifteen minutes, a large paper grocery sack in one hand, her other hand in a splint. "Okay, so, yeah, there are tacos and salsa and beans and rice and three kinds of juice and scrapple and pancakes and toast and fruit salad and gello and cold pizza and pickles and pie and chocolate cake and chocos and sushi and apple fritters and lasagna and cheesy doodles and ramen noodles and mushroom casserole and muffins and cookies and chicken kebabs and R'n'R's and wasabi peas and egg foo young and lobster tails and biscuits and gravy both cream and brown and noodles and pie and salad and mashed potatoes and creamed spinach and creamed corn and squash and soda bread and scones and tea and cream and sugar and coffee and soda and strudel and sausages and steak and some black eyed peas and a few pieces of bacon too. Your Tupperware is on top."
Aqualad just looks at her. She blinks, and then sheepishly says "The Frying Pan of Doom kills everything it smacks, including metaphors, pests, Demons, and anthropomorphic personifications of physical phenomena, and all the food it creates is completely edible, with no side effects, other than getting full."
He nods, and carefully accepts the large brown bag from her. She nods to him, smiles at them all, again, and said with a suddenly tired voice, "I'm going to shut the door and turn the lights out now, and go back to bed, okay? When I wake up after dawn, it would really be best if y'all weren't here."
The click of the door and the flick of the lights startle them all out of their stupor. They all shuffle around, scrape Killer Croc of the floor and into the Tupperware, and then they leave, the lingering stench of sewer the only reminder of what had happened that morning.
*looks at story* ~.~` idek u guyz. Idek. And for those of you who follow Better Late than Never, to not fear! I have not forgotten thee! Chapter 6 will be posted! As soon as it's ready… like a pie… mmm pie…