Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.

Chapter Three-- "Hold Back Tomorrow"

After three days of the same monotony, Crocker was as predictable as day and night. He was too exhausted to even attempt to change gears, let alone concern himself with whether Timmy Turner had fairies or not. His students were grateful for the consistency, but it wasn't long before they started taking advantage of it.

Wednesday morning came and classroom 44 was a complete disaster area. Crocker was sitting at his desk with bloodshot eyes and looking as unkempt as ever, shakily trying to down two aspirin when Principal Waxelplax walked in to find out what was causing all the commotion.

"Mr. Crocker!" she cried, ducking as a paper airplane nearly put her eye out, "What on earth is going on in here? Why aren't you controlling your students?"

"Huh? What?" Crocker looked up at her, blinking first one eye, then the other, his complexion more pallid than usual, "Oh. Uh...children. Settle down. Ugh..."

He couldn't even muster a shout, so his half-hearted attempt at regaining some structure went unheard by the shouting students who couldn't care less what he said anyway even if they had heard him.

"What is wrong with you?" Waxelplax asked, physically shaking Crocker's shoulders in an attempt to find some sign of vitality in him, "Oh, never mind. I don't think I care to know. Anyway, you need to take the rest of the day off. You look terrible and--"

"He always looks terrible!" Francis guffawed, rudely interrupting the principal.

"Well...he looks more terrible than usual," Waxelplax retorted shortly, dragging Crocker to his feet and shoving him out the door as gently as she could, "Now get out of here. Lower your caffeine intake and get some sleep."

Crocker wandered aimlessly down the hall, pausing at the drinking fountain to stick his face in the spray of cold water. That woke him up somewhat and he continued his aimless wandering which eventually led him outside. He successfully located his van in the parking lot and drove at a snail's pace into town.

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Timmy came home from school later that day, relieved that the substitute teacher didn't hand out any homework. Of course, no one had had any homework since Crocker had taken his downward spiral into monotony.

"Family meeting!" Mrs. Turner announced as Timmy walked in the door.

Timmy groaned and shrugged off his pink backpack--which grunted upon hitting the floor--and he took a seat on the couch beside his father.

"I have a special announcement to make," Mrs. Turner continued in her usual bubbly tone of voice, "We're going to be sharing our home with a very special guest for a while, starting tomorrow!"

"It better not be the Dinkleburgs," Mr. Turner growled peevishly.

"Who is it, Mom?" Timmy asked, having a feeling of excitement and dread all at once. On the one hand, it could be someone cool and famous, like Chip Skylark, and on the other hand...

"Why, it's your teacher, Timmy," Mrs. Turner smiled, "Mr. Crocker. He rear-ended the car with his van in the grocery store parking lot and we got to talking. He said he was living at the school because he can't afford to pay rent for two places--one being his mother's--and I thought that was just pitiful, so I invited him to come and live with us."

"What?! But I--you can't--but he--" Timmy stammered, shocked senseless by this devastating news.

"Oh, he's so thrilled, he's speechless!" Mrs. Turner gushed happily, misinterpreting Timmy's stutters.

"She still digs your teacher?!" Mr. Turner yelped, "I can't believe it! I'm going to lose my wife to someone more intelligent than me!"

"That's debatable," Timmy muttered to his pink backpack and green lunchbox, insinuating that Crocker wasn't much brighter than Mr. Turner as he tromped up to his room.

"What's wrong, Sweetie?" Wanda asked, poofing into fairy form as soon as they reached Timmy's room and the door was shut.

"Didn't you hear?" Timmy groaned, flinging himself across his bed, "Mom ran into Crocker in the grocery store parking lot, found out about his current predicament, and invited him to come and stay with us!"

"Your mom didn't run into him," Cosmo piped up, obviously having heard the conversation, "He ran into your mom. Remember? She said he rear-ended the car, not vise versa."

"Whatever," Timmy grumbled, "The point is, Crocker is going to be in this house for an unknown but otherwise extended period of time and that puts us three in danger. What are we going to do? Tomorrow could spell doom for all of us!"

"I didn't know tomorrow could spell," Cosmo commented, completely clueless, "That's scary!"

"Not half as scary as life is going to be when Crocker arrives."