Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.
Chapter Four-- "And Nothing Is Rhyming"
The change in occupation turned out to be much harder for Crocker to adapt to than he'd anticipated. As time went on with no one to teach, his psychotic mind began to take over. One day, while organizing ice cream in the walk-in freezer again, he couldn't take it anymore. Without being totally conscious of his actions, he started setting up the freezer like a classroom, substituting students with appropriately colored ice cream containers. Timmy was represented by a pink container of strawberry ice cream. Crocker tended to pick on that one the most.
"Class, today we will be learning decimals," he spoke as though he was talking to a classroom full of children rather than a freezer full of ice cream, "What's that, Turner? You don't think you're ready to do decimals? Then why don't you just wish yourself ready with the help of your...FAIRY GODPARENTS?! I know you have them!"
The strawberry ice cream sat in silence as he pointed his accusing finger.
"Don't you lie to me, Timmy Turner!" Crocker barked venomously as if the container of ice cream was actually a living, breathing, thinking individual capable of lying, "I can see through your lies and one day I will prove that you've been lying! That will be the day when I capture your...FAIRY GODPARENTS!!!"
"Crocker!" Mr. Frosty bellowed as he opened the freezer and witnessed Crocker's violent spasm, "What do you think you're doing? We've got customers out there and--"
He stopped and glowered around at the freezer that oddly resembled a classroom. The milk crates were arranged to compensate school desks and ice cream containers sat where it looked like children should have been.
"What's the meaning of this?" Frosty asked dryly, gesturing toward the neatly arranged...mess.
"This? Oh," Crocker scrambled frantically for a logical explanation and--naturally--he could only come up with one, "It's just...FAIRIES!!! No! No, I mean, uh...I was just...organizing the, uh...ice cream."
He forced an ingratiating grin as his boss eyed him skeptically, silently praying his story would be enough to get him off the hook for now.
"I hope you remember why I fired you twenty-some-odd years ago--"
"Of course, I do! But the customers are waiting!" Crocker blurted, sidling toward the door, "Mustn't keep them waiting! I'll be waiting on them now!"
"He's still missing a screw," Mr. Frosty muttered as he watched his paranoid employee skirt out the door and disappear.
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As Crocker hurried to wait on customers, he almost gave way to a spasm when he saw Timmy Turner and his friends at the front of the line. Just what he needed--the temptation of fairy-hunting. That would be enough to dig his grave a little deeper. He swallowed his impulses--nearly choking on them--and approached the counter.
"Can I help you?" he asked dryly.
"Mr. Crocker?" Timmy blinked up at his old teacher, "What are you doing here?"
"I'll ask the questions here, Turner!" Crocker hissed, "What do you want?"
"Uh...I'll take a hot fudge sundae," Timmy said quickly, not wanting to further aggravate the already edgy ex-teacher, "Uh...please?"
Like a programmed robot, Crocker mechanically filled Timmy's order, trying desperately to fight the strong impulse to monitor the boy for fairy activity. It was a losing battle like all the others. He knew it.
"That'll be--TWO FAIRIES!!!" Crocker convulsed as he shouted, but quickly recovered as Mr. Frosty glared at him, "Gah! I mean---uh, that'll be $2.50!"
Timmy hastily paid for his ice cream and left. He couldn't get out of there fast enough. Crocker eyed him as he retreated, wanting desperately to follow him and look for evidence of fairies, but he was obligated to remain behind the counter, waiting on rude and impatient customers.
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Day after day, the drudgery continued without alteration in its monotonous rhythm. After battling insomnia half the night, Crocker forced himself to get up and function in the morning, choked down three or four cups of coffee to get enough caffeine into his system to keep him going for the day, arrived at work a nervous wreck, mechanically went through the motions, returned home exhausted, endured another sleepless night, only to rise the next morning to the same routine.
In vain attempts to cheer himself up even a little, he retreated to the freezer to arrange his "classroom" and teach his silent "students". If that didn't appeal to him, he would fall to talking to himself about fairies. Such was the life of the miserable teacher.
One day, he trudged out to wait on customers and nearly choked on his own spit when he saw Waxelplax standing at the counter, browsing the overhead menu. Crocker froze and jumped back to hide behind a wall. How degrading! Soon Waxelplax would know just how severely he'd demoted himself. There was no way he could go out there.
"What're you doing standing around with your face hanging out?" Mr. Frosty demanded, grabbing Crocker by his shirt and slinging him out of his hiding place, causing him to slide across the freshly mopped floor and collide with the counter, "Get to work!"
Waxelplax had the same reaction as Crocker when her gaze fell on him in a double take. Even she could see that he looked broken and down-trodden.
"Mr. Crocker," she stammered slightly, "What in the world are you doing here?'
Crocker straightened, trying to regain his dignity--if he still possessed any--and forced a pleasant face. He had to lie otherwise he'd never live this down.
"This is my new job," he replied detachedly, "I've been working here for nearly a month now."
"Do you like it better than teaching?" Waxelplax inquired, admittedly a bit concerned.
"Are you kidding?" Crocker asked, lying through his teeth, "I've always wanted a job like this. It's great. I couldn't be happier."
"That's funny," Waxelplax mused, "Because you look absolutely miserable. Look, um...if you decide you want to come back...uh...the door is always open."
She silently kicked herself for that one. The school had become better than ever with Crocker out of the picture. The children and teachers alike were happy. No fights broke out. No children ran home crying. No talk of fairies. It was pure bliss. So why was she inviting him back?
Everything in Crocker's being cried to return to his old job. In fact, his eyes even started to tear up at the pang within him--the feeling of homesickness. He fought it tooth and nail though. He had his pride and there was no way he was going to go crawling back to Waxelplax.
"Well, you'd better close it before you catch a draft," he retorted nonchalantly, "Because I already told you I'm perfectly happy here."
"Are you...crying?" Waxelplax asked, eyeing him closely.
Crocker rushed away to the cutting board and started chopping up onions. He could rise above this--he had to.
"Isn't that to be expected when one is dicing onions?" he replied, his eyes watering full force.
"I suppose so," Waxelplax shrugged, "But you looked like you were crying before you started doing that."
"That's because if I even think about cutting up onions, I start to tear," Crocker insisted, sticking to his lie like glue, "Now, may I take your order?"
"I don't think so," Waxelplax sighed, surprised at herself, "Suddenly, I'm...not very hungry."
Crocker stared after her in complete shock. Waxelplax saying "no" to food? That was something he thought he'd never live to see. It suddenly became clear to him that his world was turning upside down--nothing made sense anymore! Although, rethinking it, in his case, maybe his world was finally tilting right-side up.