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

Chapter Five-- "Prayin' For Daylight"

Timmy was still wide awake and slowly losing his sanity long after midnight. When Crocker finally dropped off, the bad dream became an all-out nightmare. The psychotic teacher repeatedly had spasms in his sleep, twitching, shouting about fairies, and kicking Timmy's bed hard enough to cause it to bounce up off the floor.

"This is driving me nuts!" Timmy hissed, finding Cosmo and Wanda unable to sleep as well, "I've got to get him out of my room or we're never going to get any sleep!"

"But how?" Wanda asked, cringing as Crocker gave way to screaming about fairies again.

"I've got it!" Timmy replied after giving the matter some thought, "I wish Crocker was allergic to...hmm...dust! And I wish there was tons of dust in my room!"

"You've got it!" Cosmo grinned, granting Timmy's wish and filling his room with...

"Fairy dust?!" Timmy cried, "Are you nuts?! I meant house dust, you idiot!"

"Well, what's wrong with fairy dust?" Cosmo challenged.

"Duh! Crocker is right there!" Timmy pointed out, "If he whiffs something like fairy dust, that will just fuel his stupid suspicions! Get rid of it! I want house dust! Loads of it!"

Wanda quickly corrected Cosmo's foolishness and soon Timmy's room was like the inside of a full vacuum cleaner bag and Crocker, suddenly afflicted with dust allergies, coughed and sneezed himself out of an almost dead sleep.

"Gah! Can't breathe!" he choked, staggering to his feet and running over Timmy and his bed to get to the window--which he promptly flung open--and began gasping for fresh air.

"Are you okay, Mr. Crocker?" Timmy asked with a slight smirk.

"No!" Crocker gasped in response, "Your room is a giant dust bowl! I'm being choked by your polluted air!"

"What on earth is going on in here?" Mr. Turner bellowed, breaking down Timmy's door with his parental battering ram.

"Timmy, what's all the commotion?" Mrs. Turner asked, joining her husband in the doorway. Her hair sported countless curlers and she wore some sort of hideous green slop on her face.

Crocker turned around, saw her appearance and...it scared the living daylights out of him. He shrieked and jumped back and--unfortunately for him--fell out the open window.

"Mr. Crocker!" Timmy cried. He hadn't planned for things to go that far.

"Oh, don't worry, Timmy," Mr. Turner smiled, "Your mother's thorn-infested rose bushes will break his fall."

By the time the three of them got downstairs, Crocker came in the door, spitting rose petals and covered in thorns from head to foot. He even had some stuck between his teeth.

"Maybe spending the night upstairs isn't such a safe idea," Mrs. Turner said uncertainly, glancing at her husband, "We can't have you falling out of windows and whatnot, Mr. Crocker."

"I'll go dig out the roll-away bed," Mr. Turner sighed, reading his wife's unspoken request.

A half hour, fifty-some-odd thorns, and one roll-away bed later, everyone was finally able to go back to sleep. Timmy quickly wished all the dust out of his room and he and Cosmo and Wanda were able to fall asleep for the first time that night. However, at roughly three o'clock in the morning, the trio was awakened by Crocker pitching fits in his sleep--again.

Timmy rolled his eyes in annoyance then, realizing he was thirsty, he got up and tip-toed downstairs to get a drink of water from the kitchen. Cosmo and Wanda silently followed. On the way back from the kitchen, passing through the living room, Timmy paused to watch his crazy teacher convulse in uncontrolled spasms. It was really getting on his nerves.

"I wish the bed would fold up on him."

"Gah!"

It seemed as though Crocker would spend the rest of the night in yet another cramped and uncomfortable position once again.