Author's Note: Hello, again. It's been what, a few hours, since we last met? How are you? In a reading and reviewing mood? That's good.
Watch FOP? No, well, neither did I (not having cable stinks!).
Disclaimer: Boy, am I sick of these things. Look, people, if I owned FOP, you'd cower under your tables right now and pray for salvation. After The Other Saga, if Butch Hartman knew about it, he'd get me as far away from a computer and FOP as possible. In short, I don't own Fairly Oddparents. (Although I would like to. Can you imagine how much he makes off of it? I want some of that money!)
Chapter Eight: When I'm Sixty-Four
Alcohol burners, test tubes, potassium chloride, all of these are at the ready. Not to mention heat screens, ring stands, water, and goggles. In how many combinations can these different items go wrong? Crocker's about to find out. The ceiling and the lab tables will never be the same again.
For one thing, there are only five alcohol burners and ten groups of two. On the other hand, after some rummaging, the class has discovered a few more, only they don't work very well. If they're lit, they send up a tower of flames, successfully burning off Crocker's eyebrows. At least there are heat screens to prevent this, right?
Wrong. All the screens are rusted after some fool's decision to wash them. Once an alcohol burner is lit beneath them, they rust right through, the fire directly heating the test tube. Bubbling water solutions of potassium chloride, an unknown chemical, and an open flame don't mix well.
Timmy Turner leans over the lab table where three alcohol burners are present. One is the regular clear bottle, but two are of slightly unusual coloring. In a low murmur, as he regards the class, he whispers to them a phrase containing the words "I wish". A lab coat appears along with dragon hide gloves but, since it closely resembles the attire donned by the class, it is unnoticed.
"Aha!" Crocker calls triumphantly upon spotting the pink and green burners. "Who's missing one?" He grabs them off the table, much to their discontent.
Ten hands rise, including one with a rock. Yes, the return of the rock; at least this partner won't set the building ablaze. It may be the only thing in the room that's not flammable. (Every single lab table and even the sinks are made of wood. A brilliant move on the part of the planning board).
In Crocker's hands, the pink and green burners call out and threaten bodily harm. Although muffled by his strong grasp, Crocker, too exhausted from running to school, fails to recognize what's right in front of him. He passes them to Sanjay and Elmer's group.
Things go well until Sanjay tries to light his burner, the green one. It panics and Sanjay, startled, knocks it off the table. Crocker tries gallantly to grab it but snatches at the flame instead. Of course, this is when Geraldine, after rolling all the way out the door and into the library, manages to roll her way back to Crocker's classroom.
Standing, covered with a film of dust, twigs in her hair, mud on her suit, generally filthy, she, extremely angry, looms in the doorway. Truthfully, she is so angry that she trembles as she watches Crocker dash madly to the sink and try to cool his hands.
"Crocker!" She screeches. All the words in the world cannot sufficiently express her fury. Even as he frantically tries to end the pain, she makes no motion to help. Her look alone is enough to send shivers down his spine and put his hands into ice blocks.
Crocker finally plunges his hands into the ice cold water set up for him (Sanjay, feeling slightly guilty, turned it on), while Geraldine narrows the space between them until there's naught an inch difference.
Utterly silent, the students stand and watch, except for the green burner, sighing in relief. Next to him is a pink water bottle (the pink alcohol burner is gone) and Timmy, overlooked, sweeps them both up and places them on the lab table.
"You!" She says, her voice deceptively calm, but he shudders at what he's unwittingly unleashed. The thunder storm has begun…
Pointing at him, she slowly advances until he's up against the sink. Cold water from the faucet drips down his back but this is the least of his concerns.
"Have you any idea what you've done?"
Crocker winces. "Knocked into you and sent you rolling through the school," he says and forces a smile. "But at least I didn't destroy your car again!"
"I think transportation is the least of your worries right now." Again, her tone is level; it's more of an interpretation of the amount of danger he's in that clues him in.
Sanjay, imbued with a certain sense of righteousness, clears his throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for Crocker to burn himself-"
Geraldine shoots daggers with her eyes at him and he falls silent.
"I'll just cower here," he mutters and sinks below the table.
"Didn't I tell you that you had one more chance?" Her finger is precariously close to his eye socket and he shuts his eyes intuitively.
I want to cower too.
Obviously, these are rhetorical questions since she takes no heed of him and plows right through her speech (she constructed it while rolling about). Briefly, he wonders why she bothers to phrase them as questions if she wants no answers. At least he didn't tell her this- what she doesn't need is more fuel.
"Late to work and you sent me spinning like a top through the halls?"
Some snickering results but she glares at the group and they cease. If her rage is focused on Crocker, it's for the best. None of them want to bare the brunt of that storm. Besides, Crocker would be fired and who would want to interrupt such a momentous occasion?
"Funny story…"
"Let me guess- it has something to do with fairies? I don't care! The date is off, you're through, gone, finished, out like yesterday's leftovers…"
"Actually," A.J. says, surprising himself, "it's customary to hold a trial before convicting a person. You have to find probable cause and at least let the defendant speak on his own behalf."
"You did teach them something," Geraldine says sarcastically. "Maybe you're not totally useless."
"No. See?" He dashes to the blackboard as though to teach something but he can't hold the chalk due to his burns. A look of intense pain is written on his face but he remains smiling like a buffoon, hoping it will work.
Geraldine scowls but some of her anger seeps away. Why did she have to fall in love with him so long ago? I can't fire him like this, not while he's in this much pain. Besides, didn't Sanjay say something about unintentionally burning him? Crocker could have been protecting his students.
Silence isn't golden here. With every second that ticks away, Crocker is further reminded of both his physical pain and emotional torture. What he wouldn't give for her to speak right now! Although if it concerns a pink slip, he prefers the silence.
"Go down to the nurses' office before your hands blister any more," she says finally after five minutes. "Just go."
Blistering they are. Crocker's hands are a mass of swollen pink skin and heat runs through them like they're on a hot plate. In a matter of time, he'll howl and his eyes will tear (they have begun to already). He'll be lucky to use his hands in the immediate future at all. There's one good part about being a teacher, he recalls, he won't have to sign a pass before rushing off.
Dashing crazily, Crocker leaves and she takes his place at the head of the class. Only a few seconds pass before she recalls she's not qualified to teach lab, another good point for Crocker since he's the only one in school who can. However, if she were, she would have realized the danger of mixing the highly flammable liquids in the back metal cabinet with the already steaming test tubes.
Boom! A gigantic stream of red, yellow, and green explodes out of a test tube near the window and burns a hole in the ceiling. As is this isn't enough, another detonates and a lab table is reduced to rubble. Unfortunately, this yields a chain reaction, not concluding until…
"Out! Everyone! Now!" Geraldine screams and the students, hands atop their heads, several covered in ash, flee via the nearby main entrance.
While they stand outside, their classroom smolders. The low budget tables quickly catch and it jump-starts another blast, accompanied by curiously white smoke. Red metal flies out the broken windows and they duck.
"That was the fire extinguisher?!" A.J. cries in disbelief.
"Cool! Twisted metal!" Chester yells and rushes toward it.
"Uh, I wouldn't touch that if I were you."
"Why not?"
"It's extremely hot due to the fact that it recently exploded," A.J. says but Chester and Timmy, coming out of nowhere, rush to investigate.
Meanwhile, the smoke resulting from the chemical combustion and the fire extinguisher cease and the fire is gone, although left behind is a sorry state. In its residue are the remnants of tables and a vast majority of the lab equipment, untouched, astonishingly. Glass litters the floor from test tubes breaking and the heat screens are melted beyond recognition, but there's one cheery thought.
At least Crocker didn't cause this, Geraldine sighs. I'd better finish yelling at him before they take him to the hospital.
The very same sub who flew out the window runs up to her and observes the room.
"Watch them," Geraldine tells this young, scrawny, brown haired sub. Quicker than any can blink, the principal is up the stairs and back inside.
"What is this, musical teachers?" A.J. grumbles angrily.
"Aw, who cares? Shrapnel!" Chester yells gleefully.
***
Colliding with Crocker as he awaits the nurse's return, Geraldine just makes in time before he's rushed to the emergency room. Like this morning, one of them is sent sprawling, but this time, it's him. Another event to weigh on her conscience, Crocker attempts to break his fall with his hands and, as one could expect, lands on them.
He jumps up and runs around the waiting room, positively screaming in agony. If it's possible, her guilt has increased ten-fold. There's nothing like the former love of one's life absolutely sobbing with 2nd degree burns to play with one's conscience. Nothing at all…
This isn't her fault, she must repeat to herself, even though it fails to convince her. Lying has never been her strong point and lying to herself is nearly impossible. Mainly, she can never lie when she consciously knows she's doing so. Fooling yourself is a foolish thought at best.
"Sorry." She winces; Crocker runs about like a chicken without a head and his hands are a mess. At the moment, he tries everything to nullify the pain and endeavors to open the freezer, but this requires a clenching of one's hands and thus, sends spasms through his body. Well, he's not raving about fairy godparents.
Crocker's only response to her apology is a muffled cry; he's accidentally thrown himself into the dividing curtain. Arms flailing wildly, he struggles to extract himself. Legs jut out of the brown sheet.
Geraldine, thinking of redemption, frees him just as the nurse walks in again.
"I've the forms," she says but halts dead in her tracks. Geraldine's arms are wrapped around the curtains in such a way that they are tightly wound about Crocker's throat and he appears to be fighting her off, a leg near her shin.
"Er…" I know no one likes him but isn't this taking things a bit too far?
"This isn't what it looks like," Geraldine stammers and exits post haste.
"See you tomorrow night," she calls over her shoulder. Great, now I look like the psycho.
From inside the nurses' station, Crocker falls out of the sheet and gazes up the nurse. "I can, ow!, explain."
***
Author's Note: Haven't you ever tried to bump off one of your dates? Seriously, though, she wasn't trying to kill Crocker. It just sort of looked that way (a Freudian slip).
Er, um, yeah. Crocker'll be out of the hospital by Friday night, rest assured. However, these burns will affect the date significantly.