A/N: …Hey! …Um, so, I'm not dead... Don't kill me for being gone for like, a year?

What I was doing this whole time? Oh, you know, wibbley wobbly, timey wimey.. Stuff. (Points if you get the reference :D)

Excuses:

- I started freshman year, and the amount of homework is unbelievable. (And I'm lazy.) HONORS ENGLISH AND HONORS PHYSICS ARE KILLING ME.

- I'm learning the guitar, and, I don't mean to brag, but I'm really good at it ;D

- I'm out of excuses... So…

On to the story!

He gritted his teeth, planting both his feet firmly on the carpet. He thrust one hand upwards, as if summoning dark forces, and let out an unearthly wail.

Danny, who was currently in his bedroom, sprinted downstairs and skidded to a halt next to Jazz, who was crouching near the living room.

Flinching at the sound, he turned to Jazz, his eyes watering and his hands squeezing his ears. "What is that?"

Jazz grimaced, covering her ears as well. "Dad's singing."

A flash of light and ear-shattering feedback emitted from the living room.

Jazz and Danny rushed in to find their dad, in his regular day-glow orange hazmat suit and holding a microphone.

"Darn karaoke machine's broken," he grumbled. "It gave me a 0%... Again!" He frowned. "I'm going to go work on the Ghost-Translator." He stomped off, taking the microphone with him.

Danny's blue eyes watched him leave and then turned to Jazz. "Ghost-Translator? Ghosts speak English. What does he need that for?"

Jazz shrugged. "Ask Mom." She picked up her ubiquitous psychology book and went upstairs.

Danny sighed and slumped on the couch. After all, it was a regular Saturday. He deserved to relax, especially after fighting ghosts and going to school all week.

"Danny, honey, can you come downstairs?" Mom's voice drifted from their basement.

He sighed once more, heaved himself up and walked downstairs.

Once in the lab, he was greeted by a very strange contraption. It was brown- or possibly green and extremely rusty- and looked like a lunchbox with millions of buttons on top of it. Attached to it was a computer monitor, which displayed a bunch of lines, like heart monitors do.

Both of his parents were leaning over it, studying the screen intently.

"What.. is going on?"

"Danny boy! Come here and check out the Ghost-Translator!" Dad thrust his hands out in a "ta-da!" motion.

Danny stared at him, bored already. "And?"

"And," his mom replied, "we need you to try it out."

Danny stiffened suddenly. "You know what? I just remembered I have some.. studying to do! Big test coming up and stuff so.. I'll just get out of your way-"

"Nonsense, Danny! Come help your parents!" Dad reached out and dragged Danny to the translator, making him sit in a chair next to it. He handed Danny a microphone.

His mom pressed a few buttons on the Ghost-Translator. "Now, honey," she explained. "We'll just ask you a few questions and if you lie, the computer will tell us! Exciting, right!"

Danny eyes nearly popped out of his head at the words "if you lie". It was a lie detector? He lied to his parents basically every time he saw them! He was screwed, as usual.

"Wait!" he protested. Carefully pointing the mic away from him, he continued. "I'm not a ghost, why do you need me?"

"Just to make sure it works before we test it on the field!" Mom answered. She held up a clipboard. "Now, first question: What is your name?"

Danny took a deep, calming breath, but starting tapping his foot nervously. "Danny Fenton."

The computer showed a straight green line.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"Where do you go to school?"

"Casper High."

"Do you like your father's singing?"

Danny fidgeted in his seat, the tapping intensifying. "Do I have to?"

The computer's green line wavered slightly.

"Yes!"

"…Kind of?"

The line turned red.

"Is he a good singer?"

"Yes?"

The line dropped down lower, still red.

"What? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Dad frowned, glowering at Danny.

Danny grinned apologetically.

Mom resumed her testing. "Are you a ghost?"

Silence lingered for a little too long.

"What?" Danny's voice ripped up through a few octaves. He chuckled nervously. "What- What kind of a question is that?"

The line went back to green, but it was steadily lowering as Danny stumbled around for an answer.

Danny was spiralling. He couldn't tell the truth, how could he? Finally, it struck him. He'll just beat the system!

"Well.. I can't not deny that I may or may not probably be a ghost... I mean, on a scale from -124 to 3,787, it would definitely be a zero… or 42. What I mean is-"

"Danny," his mom sighed. "Just answer the question!"

"Pass?"

"Danny. Yes or no?"

Okay. Deep breaths, he told himself. "No."

The line turned bright red again, and Mom frowned. "Whats wrong with the machine?"

"Yep, that's right, must be a malfunction, beacsue I'm definitely not a ghost! Nope, no ghost here! Yeah, well... Good talk, 'kay, bye!" Danny bolted up the stairs, all the way up to his room.

He flopped on his bed, and exhaled, relieved.

Disaster averted, he smiled up at the ceiling, just laying down for a few minutes. The sun shone through his open window like a halo of goodness and a warm breeze trickled in. Danny closed his eyes, enjoying the weather.

Then, he jump up and leaped out of the open window, changing halfway through his jump. He soared through the air, carefree and joyous.

Unfortunately, he failed to notice his mom, staring at him as he looped around the fluffy, white clouds. Her usual look of distaste towards him was evident, but a hint of curiousity was in her purple eyes. She glanced down at the lie-detector, which she'd just finished fixing, and then back at him.

Uh oh! What's Danny's mom planning? The world may never know...

OH, and that tapping foot thing Danny does? I do that ALL THE TIME. My mom gets so mad at me, but its not my fault! I'm not even nervous or anything... its like I have ADHD. Once she said I was shaking my foot at night O.o