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

Chapter Six-- "If I Knew Then What I Know Now"

Crocker's depression and misery refused to let him be for an extended period of time and, repeatedly, he inflicted his misery on customers--especially the younger ones. When business started dwindling because of him, Mr. Frosty found it to be in order to start making threats.

"Listen, Crocker," he snarled, grabbing the scrawny maniac by his shirt collar and pinning him against the freezer door about two feet off the ground, "If you don't straighten up, you're out and I'm not going to let you off easy! Mark my words, you won't walk away fired without a sound thrashing. Clear?"

"Crystal," Crocker croaked as Mr. Frosty's huge fist was aligned mere inches from his face, "I hear you."

"Good," the huge man snorted as he released Crocker, who clumsily managed to maintain his balance when he hit the floor.

Crocker kept his forced grin in place until Mr. Frosty was out of sight, then his expression drooped into one of passive melancholy as he returned to his duties. He remained depressed throughout the day--until Timmy walked in, followed by pink and green dogs.

"FAIRIES!!!" Crocker shrieked, his mood suddenly swinging dramatically upward at the prospect of stalking Timmy at least while he was in the building.

"Uh...hi, Mr. Crocker," Timmy waved nervously and approached the counter, "Can I get a root beer float, please?"

"Small, medium, or--FAIRIES?!" Crocker responded, looking past Timmy to watch the pink and green dogs sitting at his side wagging their tails.

"Excuse me?"

"Gah--I mean, small, medium, or large?" Crocker hastily rephrased his question.

"Uh, medium," Timmy replied, knowing he had to speed things up before something happened to feed Crocker's suspicions.

"Why don't you just wish for a medium root beer float with the help of your...FAIRY GODPARENTS?!" Crocker inquired, convulsing in a spasm.

"Um...if I had fairy godparents, I would," Timmy replied cleverly, "But I don't because fairies don't exist. They're just make-believe."

"Hey!" Cosmo whined, offended. He shut up quickly though as Timmy subtly stepped on his tail.

"Did that dog just talk?" Crocker asked, eyeing the green canine suspiciously.

"No," Timmy answered, "Dogs don't talk, Mr. Crocker."

"That one did!" Crocker insisted, "Because I heard it and I heard it because that dog is really...A FAIRY GODPARENT!!!"

"You're delusional!" Timmy shouted angrily, "Hurry up and give me my float, will you? I don't have all day to waste listening to you babble about fairies."

"You want a float?" Crocker snarled, "I'll give you a float!"

Timmy wasn't necessarily surprised when Crocker turned the float upside down over his head. Cosmo gleefully fell to licking the root beer and ice cream off Timmy as Crocker uttered his cruel, maniacal laughter.

After witnessing that shenanigan, any and all customers in the shop fled for their lives, terrified of the crazy idiot behind the counter. Fortunately, Mr. Frosty wasn't around to lambaste Crocker for his actions.

As business dwindled the closer it got to closing time, Crocker found himself drifting into deep thought once again--thoughts about the repercussions after Geraldine Waxelplax broke his heart and left him to bleed in solitary suffering.

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Mentally and emotionally unstable as it was, Crocker spiraled into depression without relief after the love of his life dumped him. Talk about being hit with both barrels. One day, he was the laughingstock on campus and less than 24 hours later, he became the heartbroken, friendless laughingstock on campus.

It took all his mental strength to pass his classes in college, then troop to work where his body worked while his mind was in a world all its own. At least his tasks didn't require a lot of concentration and thought.

Unfortunately, about three days after the turning point in which his life spiraled, Crocker was in such a state of depression that he froze up in a sort of stupor on the job, unable to snap out of it. Mr. Frosty resorted to calling the Dimmsdale Insane Asylum on him when he could gain no response from the stupefied college student.

Crocker didn't remember a thing about the attendants coming to get him. By the time he returned to the land of the living, he was in a dimly lit room that bore a striking resemblance to a jail cell. A consultation with a psychiatrist revealed his behavior, thought process, and lack of self-control was all consistent with that of a mental case--a crazy person.

That was the turning point in which Crocker became bitter. Then and there, he determined he would not let the world drag him down. He would get even--one way or another. He would someday prove he was right--not crazy. Fairies existed. He knew it and he refused to rest until the world accepted his knowledge.

Naturally, one of the many people he blamed for his diagnosis and reputation was Geraldine. She was partly--if not wholly--responsible. She would be sorry one day too if he had anything to say about it. The other person he blamed was his mother.

"Where was she when I needed her? Where was she on the worst day of my life?" Crocker asked himself, hugging his knees to his chest and rocking himself subconsciously. He dwelled on those questions for some time, wishing his mother had been there for him on March 15th, 1972--if no other time. What he wouldn't have given to have her there to protect him from the angry mob that pursued him without just cause that day.

"It doesn't matter now," he said bitterly, straightening and rising to his feet, "I don't need her--or Geraldine. I'll make it on my own and they'll pay. They'll all pay!"

The maniacal laughter that followed his declaration echoed eerily in the ominous silence within the walls of the institution.

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Was it at that actual point that Crocker did go completely insane? Did it happen then or was it long before that event? Even Crocker himself couldn't answer the unspoken question.

In deep need of something recently familiar to bring a sense of comfort and security, Crocker finished up the rest of his work, locked up, and left Mr. Frosty's to drive to Dimmsdale Elementary.