Thirteen Roses
Thirteen Roses
Author's Note: Okay, so I was bored and watched the Fairly Oddlympics. Got obsessed with Fairly OddParents again and decided to write this. I couldn't resist using Anti-Cosmo. I really couldn't. D:
I don't own the Fairly OddParents. That pleasure belongs to Butch Hartman. :3
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He gave her thirteen roses and all but one were real, and he told her each rose's purpose. . .
The First Rose: Beginnings
The sun was shining and birds were singing and suddenly it clouded up and it started raining and Anti-Cosmo thought it really was a beautiful day for plotting.
He didn't mind the rain, obviously; he smiled to himself and leaned back in his armchair in the parlor of his cozy abode. Adjusting his monocle, he watched the heavy rain fall and splatter the windows. He grinned at the thought of the misfortune of those caught in the sudden storm, and snorted in amusement as a rumble of thunder sounded. Only someone truly stupid would go out and purposely get caught out there.
Which reminded him. . .
"Anti-Wanda, dear?"
"I gots the mail for ya, hun."
"Oh good, let's – oh dear."
Anti-Wanda floated in, sopping wet, holding a few equally-as-soaked envelopes. AC sighed and took out his wand, waving it and clearing the water from Anti-Wanda and the mail. "You could have just poofed it into the house, you know." he muttered, shaking his head, though he was smiling nevertheless. The swirly-haired Anti-Fairy thanked him and handed over all but one of the letters.
"This'un is mines." She said simply.
Anti-Cosmo nodded and looked through the mail, most of which were bills or advertisements addressed to the two of them. He paused at the last envelope in the stack. "Hello. . . what's this?" he murmured curiously, picking up a nearby letter opener. He slit the envelope and took out the paper within, brow furrowed as he skimmed through it. Something didn't seem right with this letter; he frowned and looked up from the piece of paper.
"Dear, let me see your letter please. . ."
Anti-Wanda handed him the letter and he skimmed through it as well, before frowning deeply. No, no, something didn't seem right at all. He compared the letters and then looked up, an incredulous expression on his face. "They're separating us?"
"They ain't!" Anti-Wanda gasped.
"They are! Listen: 'From the Fairy World Assignment Offices:
Due to a slight lack in the availability of godchild-worthy fairies, you, Anti-Cosmo, have been requested by Jorgen von Strangle to come to the Fairy World Assignment Building tomorrow at noon. There you will be assigned a child at random and will be given as much time as needed to grant any and all wishes they may have. However, on no account does this mean you are to misbehave and wreak havoc like Anti-Fairies are known to do; any consequences in that nature that are caused without your child's wishing will be reported to Jorgen von Strangle and you will be replaced.
Remember, this is a solo mission and that only one fairy will be placed in charge of your child—that fairy will be you.
-The Fairy World Assignment Offices.' " he grimaced, tossing the letter aside. "And it says the same for yours! They don't mention anything about us working together in either letter; in fact, they both say the opposite!"
"That ain't right! We's a team, isn't we? They cain't sep'rate us!"
Anti-Cosmo didn't answer; he was staring out the window, brow furrowed in thought.
"Anti-Cossie?"
"I'm fine, my dear; why don't you go on ahead and make yourself a sandwich for lunch? I'll join you in a few minutes. I need to mull things over a bit."
Anti-Wanda nodded and floated off, taking her letter with her.
With a sigh, Anti-Cosmo stood and crossed to the window, looking out as the rain slowed, finally giving up and stopping as sunshine weakly began to filter through the heavy clouds. He looked out at his front garden, his sights sliding over to a rosebush that stood opposite the window, along the low wall that surrounded the garden. He frowned. All the roses on the bush looked damaged from the wind and rain. He sighed and turned away, disappointed. The roses had taken so much time to grow, because they were a rare type. He made as if he were about to leave before doing a double take and looking out the window again. "Hm?"
A single, dark rose—almost black-purple in color—stood among its damaged siblings, peering up at the cloud-filled sky. Its petals were open, dots of rain rolling off of them as the clouds made one final attempt at rain. Only a light drizzle fell, before stopping altogether and giving way for the sun. Anti-Cosmo smiled slightly. The rose seemed almost optimistic about its survival. He turned and left the parlor, off to have lunch with his wife.
The way he floated off down the hall almost seemed optimistic as well.
The next morning, Anti-Cosmo woke up to sunlight hitting him full in the face. He muttered something and rolled over, trying to get back to sleep. When his attempt failed, he climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes. Mumbling darkly under his breath, he grabbed his usual outfit from the closet before ambling down the hall; apparently he was much too tired to float. He made it to the bathroom without knocking anything over and closed the door behind him, turning the lock and standing in the darkness for a few seconds. Finally, he turned on the light and started the water, pulling off his pajamas lazily. He climbed into the shower and turned the water to cold in order to wake himself up quicker, and started washing.
After his shower, he dried off and got dressed, then made his way to the kitchen for breakfast. He made himself some toast and tea, polishing his monocle as the water for the tea boiled. Once his food and drink were prepared, he sat down and began eating, although he wasn't really paying attention. Anti-Wanda joined him soon afterwards, still in her pajamas, but breakfast was quiet. After the two had finished, Anti-Cosmo cleared the dishes and went out to the garden, subconsciously aware that his path was taking him to his rosebush.
Once he got there, he paused, staring blankly down at the bush, before he blinked and furrowed his brow. He had the impression of just coming out of a trance, but after a second the impression was gone. He yawned and looked down at the roses, all but one of which looked even worse up close. Yesterday's storm obviously caused more damage than he thought—at least, to the roses. He gazed down at the single rose that survived.
"You're a hardy rose. . . how did you manage to survive that?" he wondered aloud, crouching down to get a better look at the flower. It was a little damaged, but healthier than the rest. Upon closer inspection, Anti-Cosmo noticed that the rose barely had any thorns; the ones it did have were small and didn't hurt much when he plucked the rose from the bush and held it gently in his hand. "You don't even have thorns. Well, you do, but they don't seem to be very effective. . . whatever could have made you like that? You're a strange rose, you know."
He smiled and stood, dusting off his pants with his free hand before poofing himself into his study. A spare vase stood empty on a bookshelf filled with manila folders, so he placed the rose in it and materialized a bottle of water. He poured the contents into the vase and tossed the bottle out. With a smile, he placed it on his desk, looked at it for a few seconds, before he left and went to go fetch Anti-Wanda from the living room. They were expected at noon, but he had a strange feeling it would be better to get there early. Perhaps the two would have a better chance of getting a good child if Jorgen saw their punctuality.
Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes, knowing that it probably wouldn't happen, and floated into the living room just in time to see the ending credits of Paula Poundcake, with Anti-Wanda dancing along.
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. . .and in her hands he placed the First Rose, dark like the most velvet of nights, and held up the next flower. . .
Author's Note: Whoo, okay. The ending was weird, I'll admit, but whatever. It was getting late and I had to end it somehow. I actually wrote out this chapter but the end seemed kinda sudden, so I wanted to round it off nicer than what I had written. D'you think it worked? By the way, the italics are part of the story, not the author's note. It's kinda like a story within a story, and each rose is a chapter. I dunno. I just like having really cool sounding stuff in my stories is all. xD
R&R! Please and thank you