Author's Note: Thank you for all who reviewed and who continue to review. If you read this from chapter to chapter, please submit a new review every chapter, so I get your opinions on each one. If you leave your e-mail address or sign it, I will get back to you a.s.a.p. Thank you.

Disclaimer: These aren't my characters, they are Butch Hartman's, and I am using them without his permission or that of Viacom and Nickelodeon. This is a fan based work and I claim ownership to nothing, aside from the plot of this story.

Chapter Three: A Hard Day's Night

With school blissfully over and the children running rampant out the door, Crocker has time to gather his thoughts and realize just what he's getting himself into. He'd rather take his chances with the police after he's caught stalking again- they might be more forgiving. Besides, with them, he could always just plead insanity (in his case, it's true, anyway).

Once upon a time, he thought Geraldine was in love with him. She'd drop him love notes in his locker and, at times, follow him around. When he turned to confront her, she'd sigh and profess how adorable he was. Then, in college, after the second worse day in his life, Geraldine became distant and icy. It had taken nothing short of a miracle for him to be hired in the first place, especially considering the damage he'd done to her car on the first day.

Now, how on earth was he to win her over, when all he could think about is a certain pink hatted boy and the possibility that the various mysterious, supernatural events surrounding him are fairy oriented. Oh, this would be so much easier if he courted Turner! Not that he would, but at least Turner's civiler to him. This date's going to be a nightmare...

There is no one there, and Crocker leaves his classroom to walk to the "janitor's closet". A few more hours of solitude and then he would be able to go home. All he needs is to obsess over fairies until he's ready to soak his mother's bunions. Just a few hours.

Geraldine stands in front of the door, which has been barricaded. Her arms are folded across her chest and she leans against the wall, her eyes narrowed.

"So, there's something else you haven't told us?" She scowls, and Crocker unconsciously flinches. What has she seen? What if she's reading his reports and downloading his data as they speak? How did she find out?

She brandishes a photo of a crown. "Crocker," she warns, "what did I tell you about keeping your private life separate from school? I-"

Crocker spins around. What stopped her? Not that he's complaining, mind you, but he'd like to thank his savior. And, while he's dealing with said person, he could high-tail it out of there.

"I forgot something," Timmy says, standing in the middle of the hallway, clutching a green notebook and holding a pink backpack. "I wondered if I could just retrieve it?"

"Why not have your fairy godparents get it for you?" Crocker calls, banging his head on the wall in the process. He wishes immediately that he had kept his mouth shut, since the look on her face makes him realize how precarious the situation he's in is. Despite his desires, pursuing Turner might render him jobless.

"Uh, I mean, go ahead. I'm sure this has nothing to do with fairy godparents!" Crocker screeches and headbutts the door.

Timmy, creeped out, swiftly walks to the classroom, fetches a piece of paper from his desk and leaves as quickly as he came. Whatever's going on here, he wants no part of it. Especially since he accidentally eavesdropped and now knows that his principal is aware of the closet and its contents. Acting far too secretive for a boy his age, he's gone in record time for someone known as the slowest runner in his class.

Geraldine watches him go and turns to chew out Crocker again. If she has to say one thing, Crocker's very good at making himself scarce. This is the second time he's slipped out from under her nose and she certainly hopes this isn't becoming a trend. There is one thing to take comfort in- he can't do this Friday without repercussions.

Crocker starts up his fairy detection van and floors it. He's used to running away, since he's done it his whole life. What's odd is that he can't remember a time when he didn't, when he was comfortable and safe. For that matter, he can't remember being happy, all he knows is misery. Running away from his problems and his life, to pursue fairies, is the only safe haven he knows.

If he had fairies, then he would rule the world, and then, he'd be happy. Fairies would grant his every whim and he'd never have time to think about misery. Everyone would worship him and he'd be a god, wanted. He doesn't know what that is now...

He'd like to think that there's someone out there who started this vicious chain. For some odd reason, every time he starts to think about it, he sees a pink hat. A silly pink hat on a pink clad boy, it must be Turner. Turner's behind it, he knows it. But he can't prove it- he can't prove anything yet.

Now he's got another concern, his life long hunt for fairies, leading to general incompetence in every other aspect of life, will lead him to ruin on his date. He has to talk about something interesting, but all he thinks is interesting is fairies. If he even tries to show her his theories, evidence, and peculiar coincidences, he's lost the funding for his research. He can't afford to live like that, especially considering he's paying for his mother's rent.

Crocker turns into his driveway, failing to signal, and some clod honks at him. It's not like he slowed down when he saw Crocker turning either, if Crocker hadn't made the turn so quickly, the jerk in the black SUV would have done $1,000 worth of damage. These machines are very expensive.

Still lost in thought, Crocker absent-mindedly retrieves his mail, since his mother no longer leaves the house. He has to be a good boy and do every chore she asks, buy anything she wants, he must be docile here. How ironic, the only place where he can show his anger at the world is in school, and he's close to losing his escape. Without it, he would become a drone, a mindless slave to his mother.

There, awaiting him in the doorway is his mother. She holds up one of the most awful things he has ever seen, a clash of orange and purple in horizontal stripes, with red bows abound, and it's Velcro. To boot, there's accompanying shoes and a handbag, the bag polka-dotted pink and purple and the shoes red stilettos. She also has a tape measure and Crocker groans, knowing well what this means.

"Denzel, sweetie?" She chimes in her nauseatingly high voice. "Do you think you could try on some outfits for me? I need to measure your chest and shoe size, since it's so close to mine."

And take the chance the whole world will see me again and laugh? No thanks.

"No!"

"Please," she says and throws the dress on him. The door is still open and a neighborhood boy falls off his bike, laughing. His friends, riding behind him, fall on top of him, too amused by this sight to care.

"Much better."

At least let me close the door, before this winds up on the Internet.

He kicks the door closed, ignoring the catcalls of the leader. Embarrassed in front of the entire school and now his neighborhood, this is getting to be too much. There isn't much left still sacred. What's next, his computer? His room?

"Oh, Denzel," his mother says, "I cleaned and repainted your room, and cleared your hard drive. What were all those crowns and wands?"

At this point, he's ready to scream. First, it was the kid fight and the public scolding, then the janitor's closet, then the dress, and now his room, his room has been violated. He's beyond sanity, if he ever was within those limits to begin with. In fact, he's beyond caring.

Crocker shoves the dress at his mother's chest and runs out of the house, being sure to slam the door.

He isn't sure where he's going, but anywhere's better than here.

His mother stands, alone, holding the dress and its accessories. "Now, who's going to try on my dress?"

AN: Crocker's not having a very good day, is he? (Glomps Crocker)

Please review. Reviews make everything better.