My apologies for the long wait - this chapter was tricky. It took longer than I thought to plot out the initial meeting with Nori, and then I couldn't resist the opportunity to have Scratchy and Slappy show off some hidden talents on their school visit. Anyway, this is the chapter where they find their babysitter at last!

As always, there are a couple of Easter eggs. Can you spot them?

"We're so pleased you've chosen Golden State High School to choose your candidate from," gushed Principal Caroline Redding to Scratchy and Slappy as they sat in her office. "We have quite a few students to choose from."

"You've got over a thousand kids here, sister; quite a few's putting it lightly," Slappy replied.

Unfazed, Ms. Redding continued, "I understand you've had some trouble finding someone suitable for these children?"

"Zat is correct. Ve haff tried many adults who vere not up to ze task, and a lot of ze children of ze studio crew ve called…" Scratchy paused. "Hung up on us."

"Which is why we're here now," Slappy piped up. "We figured we'd have better luck outside the studio. Cast the net a little wider, so to speak."

"Ja, but ze CEO of Varner Bros. is asking for total discretion," Scratchy continued. "Ve cannot let ze students know zat ze job is at a movie studio."

"Why not? I'd think the students would jump at the chance to work at one of the most renowned studios in Los Angeles."

"Yeah, and they'd all jump at once. They'd be worse than the Lakers in overtime," Slappy said. "They'd want the job to try and get into movies, not to watch three kids. If Dr. Scratchansniff doesn't tell 'em we're here from Warner Bros., we've got a better chance of finding the right kid for the job. Y'know, someone who won't be tempted by the old limelight."

Ms. Redding nodded. "And you, Ms. Squirrel? What reason can we give for your visit?"

"Hey, Ms. Squirrel was my grandma. Call me Slappy. You can tell the little mallrats that I'm here to talk about cartoons in my day versus cartoons now. I'll be here all day talkin' about that, 'cause cartoons today? Yeuchh," Slappy said, pulling a face.

Although Ms. Redding raised an eyebrow at the word mallrats, she didn't comment on the rest of the squirrel's statement. "Very well. And Dr. Scratchansniff, we can state that you're a visiting school psychiatrist here on observation."

"Ja, zat is fine. Technically, it is true. Ve are here to observe," Scratchy said.

Slappy gave him a friendly elbow. "Straight arrow."

Ms. Redding smiled and rose from her chair. "Well, 11th-grade PE will be coming up shortly. You'll be able to meet quite a few of the students then, and our gym teacher has already been advised of the purpose of your visit." She shook hands with each of them. "Again, we're pleased to have you both join us today. If you'll follow me to the gym, we can wait for the students to arrive."

The three talked about nothing special on their way to the gym, but the bell rang only a few minutes after their arrival, followed by the sound of thundering footsteps and loud, chattering voices. "Here they come," Ms. Redding said, stating the obvious. "They'll be a moment while they change into their gym clothes, but then they'll all come running in at once."

"Oh, joy," Slappy said quietly to Scratchy. "Release the krakens." Scratchy shushed her as the gym teacher – a toned Asian-American woman with long black hair tied back in a ponytail – hustled over to them. "These are our visitors?" she asked.

"Yes, they're the representatives from Warner Brothers," Ms. Redding explained. "Slappy, Dr. Scratchansniff, this is Megan Ishikawa, our PE teacher and softball coach."

Coach Ishikawa shook both their hands, giving Slappy a smile. "I'm a big fan of your cartoons. They taught me how to outsmart an enemy, which really meant a lot to a girl being bullied."

Slappy turned to Scratchy with an approving grin. "She's okay," the squirrel said, turning back to thank the coach.

Scratchy offered the gym teacher a gentle smile. "Ve appreciate your allowing us to be here. If anyone asks, I'm a visiting school p-sychiatrist, and Slappy is here to talk about her time in cartoons."

Coach Ishikawa nodded. "No problem. If you like, you can feel free to participate with the class. Today is a free-for-all, so the kids can pick which activity they want. We have Knockout, Capture the Flag, kickball, jump rope, and dodgeball set up at different stations."

"Honey, you had me at dodgeball," Slappy said with a rather wicked grin. "I'll wait until the ankle-biters get here and then we'll go to town."

The coach returned the grin. "The station's over there," she said, pointing to the right flank of the gym. "Dr. Scratchansniff, do you have a preference for your activity? Kickball, maybe?"

Scratchy winced. "Ze last time I played kickball, someone gave it a whole new meaning," he said, crossing his legs. "I'm good at jump rope, zough. I know a lot of rhymes, in English and German."

"Perfect!" Coach Ishikawa nodded at the principal. "I've got it from here, Ms. Redding."

Ms. Redding nodded. "Good luck to you both," she wished to Scratchy and Slappy as she departed. A minute later, the gym doors burst open and in poured a flood of teenagers, all dressed in blue sweatpants and yellow T-shirts bearing the school logo. Coach Ishikawa blew the whistle hanging from her neck and hollered, "Up front! Move it! Let's go!" The kids all bunched up at the front of the gym, halting before their teacher and eyeballing the two visitors curiously.

"We have two visitors joining us today: Dr. Otto von Scratchansniff, who is a visiting school psychiatrist, and Slappy the Squirrel. Dr. Scratchansniff is just here for routine observation, while Slappy was a cartoon star at Warner Bros. when the Looney Tunes had their golden age. She can answer any questions you have about cartoons. They're also here to participate in the class, so let's make them feel welcome!"

While the kids began to murmur amongst themselves about having a school shrink and a toon star paying a call, Slappy made the first move. "Anyone up for dodgeball, follow me! Just take it easy on me. I'm an old lady, you know. Got a touch of arthritis and the old tail ain't as quick as it used to be."

Scratchy saw the smirks on the faces of some of the kids who trotted after Slappy, and he fought to keep from smiling. If he knew Slappy at all, she was going to hustle them and beat them at their own game. And as tempting as it was to watch, he knew he had a job to do. Most of the kids had already dispersed to different stations, but some were still hanging around, sizing him up as though he were an alien. He couldn't blame them – some kids were just uneasy in the presence of a shrink, and teenagers especially hated going through anything that might wreck their image. But all kids loved to play, and Scratchy himself, despite his position with Warner Bros., was still a kid at heart in many ways. So, he gave the kids a grin, clapped his hands together, and asked, "Who is good at jump rope?" He beamed when all of them raised their hands. "Wunderbar! Do you know any rhymes?"

Suggestions for rhymes came flying at him, including the old favorites "Mabel, Mabel, Set the Table," "Miss Mary Mack," "Miss Lucy Had a Steamboat," and "I Went Down to the Alligator Farm." Delighted, Scratchy spoke up, "I know some rhymes myself. Shall ve play?"

"You sure you're okay to play?" one of the girls asked. "I mean, no offense, but you're kinda old."

Anyone else would have taken umbrage at that, but years of dealing with three smart-mouthed toons ensured that Scratchy was merely amused. One corner of his mouth quirked up and he responded, "Just because zere is snow on ze roof doesn't mean zere's no fire in ze furnace, fraulein. I've had plenty of experience jumping on command."

"I guess your boss always thinks you feel froggy, huh?" one of the boys quipped, causing everyone to snicker.

Thad's the one who oughta feel froggy. He sure looks like he oughta be sitting on a lily pad. Mentally shushing Yakko's voice, Scratchy said, "No, but I am still vaiting for a princess to kiss me and turn me into a prince."

The same boy barked a laugh, and the others began chuckling as well. "This old dude's okay for a shrink!" Grinning, he gave Scratchy a jovial slap on the back. "You any good at Double Dutch, Doc?"

"Does Bugs Bunny love carrots?" Scratchy couldn't help smiling as the kids led him over to the jump rope station. This day wasn't turning out to be so bad after all.

Meanwhile, over at the dodgeball station, Slappy was proving Scratchy's theory right. She'd started out pretending to be the frail old squirrel who'd lost her game long ago, and once the kids' defenses were down and their egos up, she went in for the kill. The smug little we'll go easy on yous were gone, replaced by cries of "Get out of the way!" and "She's crazy!" and, for the really snotty ones, the impeccably-groomed spawn of the Hollywood well-to-dos, yelps of pain. One prissy Beverly Hills princess, who'd spent plenty of time beaning and berating kids she referred to as "scrubs" and wondered aloud why they had to play with a has-been cartoon actor, failed to see Slappy's well-aimed dodgeball firing at her and took a hit to her surgically-enhanced nose. Boy, had that chick raised Cain and Abel. Ah, go ahead and whine, Slappy thought to herself as she hurled another ball and bonked a boy on his butt. Daddy's money'll buy you a new schnozz.

Slappy's commotion wasn't just affecting the little snots who'd thought they had an easy target. Many of the other kids, tickled to see the popular clique get whomped, were running over to watch, some even jumping into the fray. This bunch was more like it – less spoiled brat and more fun-loving kid. They threw around balls and friendly insults, nothing ever cutting deep, and they accepted Slappy into their group without question. By the time the game was over, Slappy was in high spirits, slapping five with her newfound friends. "Hey, great game! I ain't had this much fun since I made Walter Wolf a dynamite cocktail. He really let out a bomb later, if you get my drift."

"You're the bomb, Slappy," said a girl named Nichelle, a beautiful African-American teen with a bright smile. "You can play dodgeball with us anytime."

"Yeah, especially since you whomped the A-crowd," piped up Trey, whom Slappy guessed was the resident surfer dude. "You got some mad skills."

"You got some mad skills – not!" mimicked a voice nearby. It was the chick with the plastic nose, who'd now need a replacement thanks to Slappy. She glared daggers at the squirrel. "You hustled us! You're nothing but a faker!"

"And you're nothin' but a sore loser," Slappy retorted. "You ever watched cartoons, sweet cheeks? Hustlin' chuckleheads comes with the territory."

The girl's green eyes burned with fury. "You hit me!"

"It's called dodgeball, sweetie. Either get hit or get out of the way."

"No one hits me. My nose is probably ruined thanks to you."

"Ah, quit whining. From the looks of you, I'd say you've got your plastic surgeon on speed dial." Slappy gestured to her friends. "C'mon, guys. Let's see how my pal Scratchy's doing at Double Dutch." She had barely taken a step, however, when she felt a hard jerk on her tail. She turned around and sure enough, there was a jerk on her tail – the same spoiled princess. Slappy eyeballed the girl for a minute, trying hard to rein in her temper. Normally, not much rattled the snarky squirrel, but no animal, mortal or toon, liked having its tail yanked, and this was one thing that could indeed make Slappy go walnuts. But, she and Scratchy had a job to do. It wouldn't look good for either of them if she got them both booted out over a teenager's temper tantrum. As evenly as she could, Slappy said, "You've got ten seconds to tell me why you grabbed my tail."

"Maybe you didn't hear me, or you're deaf from being older than dirt," the brat spat. "No one hits me in dodgeball. I do all the hitting around here. Do you know who I am?"

So, she wanted to play that game, did she? "No, can't say I do, and I come from a neck of the woods where Bugs Bunny is my neighbor," Slappy said, flashing the little witch a grin. "Do you know who I am?"

Evidently, the hamster on the wheel in the girl's mind tripped for a moment. She blinked rapidly and gaped like a goldfish before remembering she could speak. "N-no. Why should I? I don't watch cartoons; they're dumb. Everyone knows the big screen is the best, and the Oscars beat out any of those dollar-store trophies they give out to cartoons."

Slappy just shook her head at this. Better to let this little snot make a complete fool of herself than clue her in on cartoons having their own Oscar category for decades, not to mention the handful of Oscars Slappy's own cartoons had netted for Warner Bros. And, of course, the chick just kept on flapping her lips.

"I'll be a movie star one day, and where will you be? Begging for a role in my movie, which no one in their right mind will give a has-been toon."

"Amber, just shut up."

The new voice, tinged with a mild Southern accent, caught everyone's attention. Slappy's eyes snapped onto one of the girls from the dodgeball game, a brown-eyed brunette who'd wised up to the squirrel's tricks and dodged balls with the agility of a ballet dancer. It hadn't escaped Slappy's notice that this girl had also been the target of Amber and the other spoiled brats to throw balls at, yet she'd not lost her temper once. Now, she was staring at Amber with a glare on her face and sparks in her eyes. This oughta be interesting, Slappy thought.

Amber's lips curled into a sneer. "Well, if it isn't the Beverly Hillbilly. What did you say to me?"

"Maybe you didn't hear me, or you're just deaf," the brunette said calmly. Slappy couldn't help a grin at the brat's own words being thrown back in her face. "Shut up. Slappy beat you fair and square."

"Who do you think you are, talking to me like you're someone important? You're a scrub, a little nobody from Nowhere, USA. Your allowance is probably couch change compared to what my parents have in the bank."

"Good, then you shouldn't have a problem paying for your next nose job. This'll be, what, your third?"

"Fourth. Keep up, Elly May." When that didn't get a reaction, Amber's hateful gaze slid over the brunette. "You know, maybe I ought to give you my surgeon's number. But let's be real here. You could get a full body transplant and you'd still be nowhere near my league."

All the brunette did was smile. "Trust me, Amber. Your league is something I'll never have a prayer for."

Slappy's eyebrows flew up in surprise. Now that's an insult, she thought, impressed. A brick in a velvet glove. Better still, Amber didn't even seem to have a clue that she'd just been insulted. She smirked and said, "Well, at least we agree on something. And by the way, let me know how your psych test turns out, since the shrink's here. I'm gonna hold my breath for the results."

"Do that, honey," said the brunette, as calm as ever, still smiling.

Amber frowned at her in bewilderment, then spun on her heel, flipping her Clairol-blonde hair over her shoulder. "Whatever. Later, losers," she said over her shoulder as she stalked off.

The brunette just shook her head. "Bless your heart, Amber," she said wryly.

"Girl, one of these days, you're gonna have to get in her face," Nichelle said. "She tries to peg you every darn time we play dodgeball, and she treats you like scum every other day of the week."

"Chelle, she's not worth it," the brunette countered. "We know what'll happen if I lose my temper. I learned a long time ago how to make an insult sound like a compliment, and it works."

Nichelle snorted. "She needs compliments like she needs more lipo. That chick is a boob job away from being Malibu Barbie."

"Chelle!"

"What? You know it's true!"

"I know, but you know how Amber is. All she wants is someone to snap at her so she can blame them instead. I'm not giving her what she wants. Let her make a fool out of herself."

Nichelle chuckled and slung an arm around the brunette's shoulders. "You'd make a good mom, you know."

The brunette shrugged. "Why not? Someone's gotta be the mom in my house." She then smiled at her friend. "You're bumming me out, Chelle. I'd rather go jump rope and see what Slappy's friend is up to."

"If I know Scratchy, he's teaching 'em how to count in German. Instead of their one-two-threes, they'll know their eins-zwei-dreis," Slappy said. "You guys go ahead, I'll catch up in a sec." The others all jogged over to the jump rope station, but Slappy motioned for the brunette to stay. "You, hang on a minute. Don't look so spooked; I ain't gonna bite you," she assured the girl, who was eyeing her warily. "I just wanted to say thanks for stickin' up for me. You really handled yourself well back there."

The brunette's shoulders relaxed upon realizing she wasn't going to be picked at. "Thank you," she said, surprise clear in her voice.

Slappy sized the girl up. She was fairly tall, around five feet and a half if the squirrel was any judge of height. Her limbs looked fairly muscular, so she either spent a lot of time in the gym or she was a dancer. Pretty, in an understated way – the plastic fantastic culture of LA hadn't gotten to her, which Slappy was pleased to see. The eyes, however, would tell the truth. There was nothing fake in her eyes, no arrogance, although there was a look in them that made this teenager seem older than her years. "Does that chick ride your butt a lot?"

"She does that to anyone who's smarter than she is, which means it's her against the world, pretty much," the brunette replied. "She picks on me more than anyone because she keps trying to get me to yell at her or get physical with her, and it ticks her off that I don't. Basically, I don't jump when she yells frog."

Slappy snorted. "Typical rich kid, huh?"

"Hey, not all the rich kids are bad. Look at my friend Nichelle."

"Nichelle's a rich kid? She doesn't act like it."

"That's because she's not obnoxious about it. Chelle's parents are Hollywood lawyers, but they're the nicest folks you'll ever meet, and Chelle's the same way. She just is who she is and she doesn't give a rip what anyone thinks. Most of the kids over at the jump rope station come from money, too, and they're a bunch of sweeties, with one bad apple here and there. I've learned over the years it's not money that makes a person evil. It's the person themselves."

"Smart kid," Slappy said with a broad grin. I think I might've struck gold here. "What's your name?"

The brunette smiled. "Nori. Nori Bennett."

"Well, Nori, I got a feeling you and me are gonna get along great. You mind sittin' down for a minute before we go jump roping? My dogs are barking." Nori joined her on the nearby bleachers and Slappy jump-started the conversation again. "So, when'd you move to LA?"

"That obvious, huh?"

"That accent of yours tells me you're about as much of a California girl as I am a Southern belle. North Carolina?"

"Virginia, close enough. I moved to LA with my mom about two years ago. She said she wanted a better life for us, which was actually code for I'm too good for country life. Never mind I loved it, and it's where my –" Nori abruptly stopped and swallowed, as though what she were going to say choked her. Slappy noticed this, but didn't say anything. Whatever the girl was holding inside, it wasn't her business to poke. All right, maybe she was poking a little by quizzing her on where she was from and when she moved to LA, but that was general knowledge stuff. Anything really personal, Slappy was smart enough to not pry unless someone volunteered the information first.

"So, it's just you and your mom? She takes care of you?"

"Other way 'round. I'm the one who takes care of my mom. Don't get me wrong; I love my mom. She's just…" Nori touched a finger to her temple and flicked her wrist to the right. "Out there."

"How far out there are we talking? Just down the block or outer space?"

Nori chuckled. "Lost in space, bless her heart. She does work and make enough to support us, but the chores, the groceries, all that good stuff? I take care of it. When she's not working, she's so wrapped up in her…. hobbies that she forgets to pay the bills. I have to remind her to write out the checks."

Man, I feel sorry for her 'cause it sounds like her home life ain't the best, but it's good to know she's responsible. "Jeez, and I thought my parents had issues. But then again, kinda hard not to when they kick you outta the nest at 12 weeks old. You ever take any time for yourself? You know, escape?"

"School is my escape most of the time, except when Amber tries to pick at me. I bust my butt at it because I want to get decent grades and get a good job one day. Of course, I get called a nerd by the A-crowd because of that. 'Bookworm' is another name Amber has for me."

"You like reading?"

"Yeah. Reading and dancing are my big escapes. Right now, I'm taking ballroom and swing dancing as one of my arts electives. And I'm not too bad – I really love it."

Called her being a dancer right, Slappy thought, growing more and more pleased with what she was hearing. "And you said you wanted to get a good job one day. Do you work anywhere now?"

"Well, I was working at the library for the summer, but now I've got schoolwork. I wouldn't mind having another job, though; it'd get me out of the house for a while," Nori said, the away from my mom going unspoken. "I could use the money."

At that moment, Slappy's mind was made up. "I might be able to arrange that. Come with me," she said, hopping off the bleachers and taking Nori's hand. "I think my friend Dr. Scratchansniff would really like to meet you." She grinned at Nori as they made their way to the jump rope station, where Scratchy was being cheered on by the surrounding kids. The psychiatrist was in his glory, weaving in and out of the Double Dutch ropes like they were standing still. Sure enough, he'd taught the kids at least one German rhyme, for the two swinging the ropes were chanting "Schifflein, schifflein" – the rhyme about the little boat – and counting in German with every skip.

"He's good," commented Nori, watching Scratchy do his stuff.

"That's Scratchy for you. He can't walk and chew gum at the same time, but stick him between two flying ropes and he's got fancier footwork than Fred Astaire," Slappy said proudly. A moment went by until the kids reached twenty in German and Scratchy threw up his arms with a triumphant cry of "Hurra!" The kids roared their approval and swarmed him, several slapping him on the back in congratulations. While Scratchy was blushing up to his scalp and graciously accepting praise, Slappy stuck her fingers in her mouth and let out a loud whistle to get his attention. "Come here! I wanna talk to you!"

Scratchy nodded once and made his excuses to the kids, who all called for him to come play again sometime. "Zey're a good bunch," he said brightly. "Ve chatted between games, and I asked if any of zem babysat after school. Most of zem already do, for zeir siblings, and zey say it's enough trouble as it is. Haff you…" He trailed off when he saw Nori next to Slappy. "You haff?"

"Ja, pal. I met some decent kids and some spoiled brats, and then I met this gal. Dr. Otto von Scratchansniff, say hello to Nori Bennett," Slappy said, gesturing from her longtime buddy to the teenager.

"Guten tag, my dear," Scratchy greeted with a smile, shaking the young lady's hand. "Zat is a lovely name."

"Thanks! My real name is Elinor, but everyone calls me Nori. Easier to say," Nori said, returning his smile.

"Zat sounds like me. My friends call me Scratchy."

"Nice. So, uh… Slappy said you'd like to meet me?" A curious expression had appeared on Nori's face, and Scratchy hoped she wasn't creeped out; it certainly wasn't his intention.

"Ja. You are not in trouble, but Slappy and I are here for a reason. May ve talk to you in ze principal's office?"

Nori's eyebrows flew up. "The principal's office?"

"One more time for the people in the back: you're not in trouble," Slappy bluntly assured her. "We've got a little job offer for you."

"Across state lines?"

Slappy released a gut-busting laugh. "Honey, we don't all play in California snow. Come with us and we'll explain."

"Though she still looked a little wary, Nori nodded. Slappy raised a paw to signal Coach Ishikawa, who came running right over. She gave her consent for Nori to be pulled from class, and moments later, the three were sitting in front of Ms. Redding's desk.

The principal smiled and addressed the confused teen directly. "Nori, let me assure you you're not in trouble. Quite the opposite – you've been chosen for a special job at one of the biggest studios in Hollywood."

Nori's eyes almost popped out of her head. "Hollywood? No way. I'm not actress material, Ms. Redding. There's not enough plastic in me."

Slappy let out another snicker and elbowed Scratchy. "Told you I like this kid."

Ms. Redding also chuckled. "They're not talent scouts, although they both come from Warner Bros. Slappy, of course, is one of their veteran cartoon stars, and Dr. Scratchansniff is the studio psychiatrist. They've been looking for someone to babysit three… rather unique children on the studio lot."

Understanding dawned in Nori's eyes. "You mean, like a nanny? Like Mary Poppins?"

"Been there, done that, and got the T-shirt," Slappy spoke up. "We tried a heap of adults, and none of 'em could cut the mustard."

"Frau Redding, may I?" Scratchy asked, raising one hand. The principal nodded her agreement and the psychiatrist, facing Nori, began to explain.

"Nori, liebchen, you are a fan of cartoons, ja?" She nodded, and he continued, "Zese children are toons. Zey vere created many years ago, but at ze time, ze vere considered too zany. So… zey haff lived in ze vater tower on ze Varner lot ever since, until –"

"Wait a minute," Nori interrupted. "Are you talking about those toon siblings who busted out of the Warner Bros. water tower six years ago?"

Well, the katze is out of the bag. Scratchy wasn't entirely surprised that she knew, though – despite his best efforts and explanations of special effects gone haywire, Mr. Plotz had not been able to stop the true story from leaking out to some news outlets. The tabloids had been all over it like white on rice. "You saw ze tabloids at the time?"

"Kinda hard not to when the National Enquirer is your mom's gospel," Nori replied with an eye-roll. "Apparently, these kids were locked in the water tower since the 30s or something like that, but jeez, even the tabloids wouldn't tell a lie like that…" She stopped when Scratchy lowered his eyes. "You're kidding, right? The studio locked three kids in the water tower and left them there for sixty years? That's sick!"

Scratchy winced. At one time, he'd have said they needed locking up. Now, after six years of getting to know the Warners… "I agree. But ze head of Varner Bros. is… not an easy man. And admittedly, zese three can be vild sometimes. But zey are good kidses in need of a good influence in their lives. Dare I say it, zey need a friend. Mr. Plotz, ze studio chief, vants someone to vatch zem until New Year's, because ve are haffing a big celebration on ze lot on New Year's Eve."

"Let me guess: the party is no kids allowed?"

"Bingo. Mr. Plotz thinks zese three need a firm hand, but I think zey need a good friend who can guide zem." Scratchy now looked to Slappy. " Mein freund, vat do you say? You got to speak to her in ze gym."

"She's our girl, Scratchy," Slappy said definitively. "She's quick on her feet and she handled one of those spoiled little rugrats without losing her cool. Not to mention she's smart and responsible. She said she takes care of a lot around the house, and she wants a job."

"Wunderbar!" Scratchy cried in glee, his heart giving a leap. At last, they'd finally found a babysitter! Here was hoping she could handle the Warners, though. "Nori, vat do you say? Ze studio will giff you a veekly payment for your vork, and you vill even haff a free dinner in ze commissary, if you come each day after school."

Nori thought for a moment. "Would I be able to come on weekends if I want?"

Scratchy was surprised by the question. Most kids wanted weekends to themselves; why would she be asking to work on her days off? "I… I'm sure Mr. Plotz vould be delighted to haff you babysit on veekends, too."

"And how much is the pay?"

"$200 every veek, from now until New Year's." Scratchy waited while Nori did the calculation in her head; that would add up to roughly $2200 by the end of the year – a fortune to any self-respecting teen. After a few minutes of silence, Nori smiled and held out a hand. "I'll do it."

Scratchy felt like dancing for joy. "Oh, thank you!" he effused, gladly shaking her hand. "Danke schoen, my dear girl!"

"You're welcome. Jeez, you'd think I just saved your life," Nori said with a laugh.

"More than you know, sweetie," Slappy interjected, shooting Scratchy a grin.

After receiving a hearty congratulations from Ms. Redding, Nori asked, "So, when can I start? This afternoon?"

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but perhaps you'd like to tell your family first? Zen tomorrow, you can come to ze studio, meet Mr. Plotz, and get started vith your babysitting. I vill tell you all you need to know about ze kidses you'll be vatching." Nori looked a little disappointed at this, but agreed that telling her mother was the right thing to do. Scratchy shook the girl's hand once more and promised to see her tomorrow, resisting the urge to jump in the air and whoop as he and Slappy left. They'd done it; their mission was accomplished! They'd found a teenager to babysit the Warners. Now, all that was left to do was keep the Warners from being too zany for her to handle, although the realist in him was saying Good luck, sucker. Funny how that realist sounded very much like Yakko Warner…