Outta Time Chapter 21: The Blame Game, a don't starve fanfic

Chapter 21, everybody! Which is a little short, but I like where it ends….Bear with me, all right? I'm sort of feeling my way here (since Wilson breaking up his parents meeting doesn't make sense for this story—figures T^T).

"And why should I be doing this?"

"You work there now, remember?" Wilson asked, pointing.

"If I recall, that's your fault," Professor Carter grumbled, turning the car off Main Street and towards the university.

"No, that was your own fault—you took the job to annoy Professor Strickland."

"You should have stopped me."

"This is not my fault."

"This is your fault."

"Charlie isn't my fault."

That was the exact wrong thing to say—Professor Carter stood on the brakes and rounded on him.

"Listen, you insignificant ant," he snarled. "As far as I'm concerned, everything from the apple down is your fault. I don't care about you and your little problems, I care about my problem, and right now, my problem is keeping Charlie alive. You got that?"

"Yes?" Wilson squeaked, feeling for the door handle. He wasn't about to stick around if Professor Carter turned violent again.

"Good. I'm glad we had this little chat."

And with that, Professor Carter went back to driving.

"Um," Wilson noised.

"Shut up," Professor Carter ordered. "As soon as this is resolved, I never want to see your stupid self again. If I do see you again, you'll be in little pieces. Capiche?"

"Yes," Wilson muttered, before something occurred to him. "What about a stable time loop?"

"What?"

"Well, you'd have to run into me eventually to send me back here to ensure that a paradox doesn't occur and the time-space continuum doesn't collapse—"

"Shut. Up."

"Fine."

Mr. Skits was quite pleased when the kid and his accomplice showed up again.

He tapped DC to get his attention, and they followed the sedan to where it parked in front of the university. The kid and the guy got out, arguing the whole while, and went into the university.

Mr. Skits and DC crossed the road, opened the back door of the sedan, and slid inside.

About fifteen minutes later, the kid and the guy exited the university, still arguing, put several bundles of cables in the trunk before sliding into the driver and passenger seat, still absorbed in their argument.

"And furthermore—"

"Aw, will you shaddap already?"

Mr. Skits exchanged a slow look with DC before pulling out a gun and cocking the hammer.

That little sound made them shut up and look back, finally registering that they weren't alone in the car.

"Drive on, James," Mr. Skits ordered.

The guy looked at the kid.

"This is your fault," he told him.