This was just an idea in my head. It wouldn't be funny if it actually happened, but it was kind of funny to write.

The Worst Babysitters

"Everything you need should be in the bag", Luigi informed Fillmore, digging through it to make sure that was true. "Toys, snacks, juice, diapers, change of clothes..."

"Don't worry, man. I'll take care of everything", Fillmore assured him.

"You do remember what time she goes down for a nap, yes?"

"'Course I do."

"Doc has his phone. so please don't hesitate to call if there are any problems- anything at all."

"There won't be."

Luigi looked around, trying to think of one more "last thing" to say, but evidently, had nothing. Fudge was two years old now, but he still struggled with the separation. He avoided it wherever possible. Today, however, he had no choice. All week, the Fiat had been complaining of tooth pain. So, he had a dentist appointment and Guido and Doc were accompanying him, but there was no need for Fudge to be hanging around a dentist's office.

Fillmore laughed. "Seriously, man! You don't have to worry. Everything'll be fine."

"I hope so..." Luigi didn't look or sound convinced.

"Worry about something else. Like your dentist appointment. What if they have to pull your tooth out?"

Luigi gave him a Look.

"Luigi!" Guido called out, entering Fillmore's dome. He suspected that the reason his best friend was taking so long had nothing to do with the fact that he was going to the dentist.

"I suppose I should go now", Luigi announced, albeit reluctantly. He made no movement whatsoever.

"Yeah", Fillmore agreed. "Off you go."

Fudge looked up from scribbling on a bit of paper. "Papà?"

"Papà will be back later, angel", Luigi promised his daughter, giving her a big kiss."Be good."

Guido kissed her too before practically dragging Luigi out of the dome.

Usually, Fudge cried when her dads left her. And today was no exception.

"C'mon, man!" Fillmore picked her up. "I just got your papà to stop worrying. Papà and Babbo will be back in a few hours, but you're gonna be fine here."

As usual, Fudge's tears were quick to subside. After all, she knew Fillmore- or whoever was looking after her- and she liked him. Besides, no matter how long it took, her dads would always come back for her.

For an hour or two, everything went smoothly. Fudge played. Fillmore read to her and showed her some new organic fuel he was working on (although, being only two years old, she wasn't exactly interested). He convinced her that it wasn't a good idea to go outside because it was pouring rain. They had lunch, but little Fudge wasn't happy that she couldn't have a cheese sandwich since Fillmore was vegan and didn't eat cheese.

"I got somethin' much better for you, man. I promise", Fillmore had told her.

So, she ended up with an all-natural peanut butter sandwich; apple slices and a cup of some organic fruit juice that the hippie van had made himself, none of which the child liked. Still, Fillmore insisted that she ate every single bite. So, she did.

The other tiny little bit of trouble was that Fillmore noticed that Fudge was a lot quieter than usual. She was only two, but normally, the girl was a very big talker. Not only that, but her playing seemed half-hearted at best. Still, the hippie van wasn't too concerned. He just assumed it was because she missed her dads.

Apart from that and lunch, things didn't seem to be going too badly. The real trouble started while Fudge was down for her afternoon nap.

That was when Sarge showed up. He shook himself free of rain.

"Hey, hippie! You got the pan you borrowed from me? I need it for my dinner tonight."

"Sure!" Fillmore dug around in a pile of records, dishes, cutlery, tie-dyed mud flaps and Chrysler knew what else.

"Are you sure?" Sarge deadpanned.

"Sure I'm sure", the hippie van insisted. "I know I didn't take it out of my home, So, it must be round here somewhere."

"How the hell you find anything in here is beyond me!" Sarge declared, groaning, as he, too, started digging through the mess. "I wouldn't be surprised if we found Big Al somewhere in this junk pile!"

"Nah, man. Big Al left. You saw him."

Sarge rolled his eyes. "Why can't you put things away normally?"

Fillmore laughed. "That's real dull, man! Everythin's much more creative and relaxed here."

"Is that what you call it?"

Somewhere around this point, Fudge woke up from her nap. And she wasn't feeling well at all. She was burning up. Her head hurt and her stomach felt funny. For almost a minute, she could not stop coughing.

"Papà?" she whimpered. Then she remembered that her Papà wasn't there. She was at her Uncle Fillmore's. "Uncoo Fillmoe?"

But Uncoo Fillmoe didn't seem to be listening. She could hear yelling and knew right away that her Uncle Sarge was there too.

"For Peterbilt's sake!" the Jeep groaned. "If you had some kind of system, this wouldn't happen!"

"I do have a system!" Fillmore countered. "I put things down and then I remember where I put them!"

"Very effective!" Sarge's voice was dripping with sarcasm. There was a rustling of papers. "If you remember where you put things, then why do you still have paperwork from 1972 that you still haven't filled out?!"

"Oh, yeah. I was wondering what happened to that", Fillmore muttered.

Sarge scoffed. "You're unbelievable!"

"Uncoo Fillmoe!" Fudge cried. "Uncoo Sard!" She wanted to get off the beanbag where Fillmore had left her to have her nap. However, she didn't have the energy to move and anyway, she felt like she was going to...

Fudge bent down and started gagging. A second later, vomit was all over the floor.

"Uncoo Fillmoe?!" she called out again as best as she could, but she was coughing like mad. "Uncoo Sard!"

The only response was Sarge yelling, "Look at all this junk!" There was a crashing sound.

"Respect the classics, man!" Fillmore shouted back. "That's a Hendrix record!"

"Disrespectful junk!" Sarge scoffed.

"Have you ever listened to Hendrix, man? And I mean, really listened to his music?"

"Fillmore! Fillmore! Fillmore! Fillmore! Fillmore!" Sarge shouted over and over again.

Electric guitar music blasted through the dome. The combination of yelling and loud music scaring her and further irritating her already terrible headache, on top of feeling sick and being ignored proved to be too much for little Fudge. The two-year-old burst into tears. But did Sarge and Fillmore notice? Did they come to her aid? No and no!

"FILLMORE!" Sarge boomed. "Have you forgotten what's important here?! I lent you something, you lost it! Can we please focus on finding it?!"

"Hey, chill out, man! We'll find it!"

"I wish I had your confidence", Sarge muttered.

"Well, instead of just parking there, why don't you help me look?" Fillmore suggested.

"You haven't done much looking either!" Sarge retorted. "It seems more important to you that I 'really listen' to your blasted Hendrix records!"

"We can listen while we look!" Fillmore assured him.

"Not if you don't start looking, you can't!" Sarge turned off the record player.

Promptly, Fillmore switched it back on.

"HIPPIE!" Sarge exploded.

"All right, man! I'm looking! Don't get your axle in a twist!"

Unbeknownst to them, poor little Fudge threw up again.

Knock, knock, knock!

"Hey, man!" Ramone called out, entering the dome. "Flo sent me! I'm just returning the pan she borrowed from you."

There was no answer. The yelling and music were too loud. The sound of a little kid crying was almost completely drowned out.

Wait a sec! A little kid crying? Setting the pan by the entrance to the dome, Ramone went to investigate.

He found Fudge in the front room, alone and bawling her eyes out. Right away, he could tell that the child looked unwell. This was confirmed when he noticed two puddles of vomit on the floor.

"Mone!" Fudge cried the second she saw him. She wished that her papà could be there, but at this point, she'd take anybody as long as they gave her some attention.

"Hey, chica!" he greeted her softly. "You don't look too good."

'Fudgie sick!" she moaned.

"I'll say!" Ramone agreed. "Where's your babysitter?"

"All right, all right! I've listened to it!" Sarge barked. "Now, can we focus on finding my pan?"

"I don't think you've really listened, man!" Fillmore countered.

"Oh, for Peterbilt's sake!" Sarge scoffed.

"You're just jealous, man!" Fillmore accused.

"Jealous?! Why in Chrysler's name would I be jealous?!"

"You could never as great a musician as Jimi Hendrix!"

"Why would I want to be?!"

Ramone let out a low whistle. "Oh, man! I wouldn't wanna be in their tyres when your papà finds out they're not giving you any attention."

"Where's Papà?" Fudge whimpered.

"Your papà went to the dentist this morning", the Lowrider reminded her. "He's not back yet."

"What about Babbo?"

"Babbo went with him, remember?"

Fudge's only response was to throw up again.

"(Your poor kid)", Ramone murmured sympathetically in Spanish. After cleaning up the vomit, he decided what he was going to do. He reached into the bag Luigi had left and dug through it until he unearthed Fudge's raincoat. Then he announced in English, "I'm not leavin' you here. You're comin' with me."

"What about Papà?" the two-year-old wondered as Ramone helped her into her raincoat.

"Papà will come and find you when he gets back", the Lowrider promised her. He was gathering up all of the toys on the floor and put them in the bag.

"Ducky!" Fudge cried, reaching for the stuffed duck.

"Ducky wants to ride in the bag", Ramone explained gently. "It's raining and he doesn't wanna get sick like you."

Fudge was too miserable to argue. She just let Ramone pick her up and they headed outside.

"What're you doin', man?!" Fillmore called out, not sounding very happy.

Ramone froze for a moment. However, the hippie van wasn't talking to him.

"I'm trying to make this place a little more liveable!" Sarge informed him.

"By arrangin' all my records in alphabetical order?"

"Just a little bit of order is exactly what you need!"

That settled the Lowrider's decision. It was obvious that neither one of them was paying Fudge any attention whatsoever. So, not only did Ramone decide to take her, he decided not to tell them either. Fudge was safe now. He'd just see how long it took Sarge and Fillmore to figure it out.

"There!" Sarge announced, satisfied, about an hour later. "Things look a little better in here now!"

"It was fine the way it was", Fillmore muttered.

"Fine?!" Sarge echoed in sheer disbelief. "You couldn't see the floor!" He looked around. "Well, it's obvious I'm not gonna find my pan. I'll go see if Flo has one I can borrow."

"You sure you still need one?" Fillmore teased.

Sarge rolled his eyes. "By now, I've learned that everything takes ten times longer than it should with you! I started looking early." He started making his way outside, only to stop at the entrance. He had just found what he was looking for. "Oh, here it is."

"Told you, man!" Fillmore smirked triumphantly. "I knew we'd find it."

"It wasn't always there, was it?" Sarge wondered.

The hippie van shrugged, not having a clue.

Sarge shrugged too. "Doesn't matter." He grabbed the pan. "I'm just glad I found it all. I didn't think it would turn up until Fudge was in college."

"Fudge!" Fillmore gasped.

The Jeep gave him an odd look. "What about her?"

"I'm supposed to be babysitting!"

"What a surprise!" Sarge droned sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You forgot an important responsibility!"

For the first time in the forty-odd years that they'd known each other, Sarge saw that Fillmore looked worried. "This isn't funny, man! She was still napping when you came in! She must be awake by now!" He hurried to the front room where he left the two-year-old. Of course, she wasn't there.

Fillmore was even more worried now.

"Luigi's gonna kill me, man!"

"To be fair, you deserve it", Sarge pointed out bluntly. "The kid's two years old. At that age, you shouldn't let 'em out of your sight for a second."

"She was down for a nap!" Fillmore shouted defensively. "And you distracted me! Luigi's probably gonna kill you too!"

"How was I supposed to know you were babysitting?!" the angry Jeep countered. "It's not my fault you don't know the meaning of the word responsibility!"

Apparently, they'd learned nothing because the two of them were arguing over whose fault it was.

Finally, Fillmore refocused. "Just forget about whose fault it is, man! We'd better find her before Luigi gets back!" He ventured out into the rain, dashing for the abandoned Cozy Cone Motel.

"Hippie, wait!" Sarge took off after him.

Meanwhile, not a million miles away, Fudge threw up in the paint can Ramone had left for her for about the tenth time.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Flo cooed.

The ex show car had been a little surprised when her husband had returned with Fudge. Although, she was pretty quick to forget her surprise and felt the two-year-old's forehead. It was very warm.

"I think you're in for the flu, honey", she had declared sympathetically.

"Oh, that's right!" Ramone had recalled. "You had the flu a couple of weeks ago, didn't you?"

"Yep", Flo had confirmed. "So did Sheriff, Mater, Lizzie and Fillmore. Poor baby. I'll see if Doc has any flu medicine for toddlers. Why don't you make Fudge comfy on the couch and get a wet cloth for her forehead to cool her down a little?"

So, that's what they did. Then Ramone noticed that she stank and so, he changed her diaper.

"Oh, man!" he exclaimed, making a face. "When was the last time Fillmore changed you, huh?"

Fudge's only response was to make some more. Then she threw up again.

About ten minutes later, after having some medicine, Fudge most certainly wasn't better, but she was being well looked after. Plus, she seemed much calmer.

Flo gave little Fudge a kiss on the forehead when she woke up from an hour-long nap. Then she looked up at her husband. "Does Fillmore know she's here?"

Ramone shook his hood. "Nope, but he'll figure it out."

His wife frowned. "Luigi should be back soon. He's not gonna like it if Fudge isn't there."

That was for sure.

"Ciao!" the Fiat called out cheerily as he entered Fillmore's dome.

But there was no answer.

Luigi turned to Guido, frowning. "(Where are they?)"

He got his answer (well, half of it) a second later as Sarge and Fillmore burst inside. The two of them skidded to a halt in shock when they noticed that Luigi was waiting for them. Sarge even crashed right into Fillmore!

"Luigi!" the latter exclaimed breathlessly. "How- How was your dentist appointment?"

"What are you doing?!" Luigi demanded, ignoring the question. "And where is Fudge?!"

Fillmore hesitated. His silence said it all.

"You LOST her?!" Luigi exploded.

"I can expl-" the hippie van began.

"No you can't!" the Fiat cut him off and Fillmore knew that he was right. "There is no excuse for this!" He gasped for breath and his eyes filled with tears. The others knew that he was about two seconds away from losing his mind. "We have to find her! Now! When did you last see her?!"

Fillmore didn't really want to answer, but he knew he had to. "When I put her down for her nap."

"That long?!"

"(Her bag's gone)", Guido reported. "(One of the others must have her.)"

"I tried to tell him that", Sarge announced once Luigi had translated.

"(Quiet, you!)" the little forklift snapped. While not nearly as hysterical as his best friend, he, too, was far from happy about the situation.

"Luigi! Guido!" a voice called out. Doc darted into the dome and out of the rain. He tossed a soggy piece of paper towards them. "I found this note in my clinic!"

Don't worry, Doc. Toddler cold and flu medicine is not missing. I took it.

Flo

It didn't take a genius to figure things out. Without a word, the two Italians bolted, making a beeline for Flo and Ramone's garage. Curiously, Sarge, Fillmore and Doc followed.

Flo jumped about a mile when intense banging rattled the door. Then she could easily guess what it was.

"Looks like your dads beat us back, honey" she commented with a smile. She picked up the sick toddler and opened the door. "Lookin' for someone?"

"Oh! Fudgie!"" Luigi exclaimed, taking her from Flo and smothering her face in kisses. "Papà was so worried about you! Yes, yes!" He glanced up at Flo. "Why did you take her?"

"I didn't. Ramone did."

"Hey, man!" Ramone greeted Luigi casually. "You're back! How'd your appointment go?"

"You took Fudge from Fillmore?" was the Fiat's only response.

"I did-"

"Why would you do that?!" Luigi demanded. "I was so worried about her!"

"For two minutes", Doc muttered.

"Look", Ramone began, "Flo sent me over to Fillmore's to return a pan she borrowed-"

"My pan?!" Sarge cut him off, glaring at Fillmore accusingly. "You lent out my pan without asking me! You said you never took out of your home!"

"Well, technically, I didn't", Fillmore countered.

"FORGET ABOUT THE PAN!" Luigi, Guido, Doc, Flo and Ramone all yelled simultaneously.

Fudge whimpered at the noise.

"Poor angel!" Luigi soothed his daughter, kissing her. "It is okay. Papà is not angry at you. Go on, Ramone."

"The kid was crying; she'd thrown up several times and these two-" He waved a tyre towards Sarge and Fillmore. "-were too busy arguing to notice or care."

"My poor little angel!" Luigi exclaimed sympathetically. He turned to Ramone, his anger towards the Lowrider vanishing. "Well, you did the right thing." Then he glared at Sarge and Fillmore. "I can't believe you two! That is the last time I trust either one of you to babysit!"

"Excuse me!" Sarge shouted. "I wasn't babysitting! Fudge wasn't my responsibility!"

"But you were there when I showed up!" Ramone countered. "You're not deaf! You could've noticed her crying, but you didn't!"

Just then, Fudge threw up once more.

"Let's go home, Fudgie." He collected her bag and the medicine. "We can talk about this another time. Right now, I have to take care of my daughter."

Not surprisingly, Luigi was very reluctant to let Sarge and Fillmore babysit again after. However, after four months, he finally let Fillmore babysit. Though, the Fiat had a very important and very specific instruction from then on.

"I must ask that you do not have Sarge over."

Kind of short, but I hope you enjoyed anyway.