Disclaimer: The basic plot for this story is my idea, however The Fairly OddParents and all characters involved belong to Butch Hartman.
Chapter Eight-- "The Second Time Around"
Monday morning came and Denzel Crocker was up with the sun, unusually happy and ready to meet the day and roll with whatever punches were dealt him. He even paused to bid his mother good morning.
"Denzel? Are you feeling all right?" she asked, genuinely concerned, "You look than usual. Let Mommy check your temperature!"
"Mother, I'm perfectly fine," Crocker assured her as patiently as he could, swatting her hand away as she tried to feel his forehead, "I'm going to work now."
"That's why I'm worried about you!" his mother cried, "You've never been happy about going to Mr. Frosty's! Did you suffer a blow to your fragile little head on the job? If you did, Mr. Frosty will be dealing with one big-butt lawsuit--"
Crocker knew reasoning with his overprotective mother was like trying to tell people that fairies existed, so he let her ramble on and waltzed out the door to hop in his van and head back to work--the workplace that was meant for him.
Upon reaching the school, the other teachers were just as baffled by his behavior as his mother. They were also quite surprised to see him there. The brown-haired, bespectacled teacher who enjoyed making wisecracks at Crocker's expense went straight to Principal Waxelplax.
"What's that crackpot doing back here?" she asked, "I thought he quit."
"He did," Waxelplax replied hesitantly, "But...I sort of...kind of...invited him to come back when I saw how miserable he was working at Frosty's."
"You what?!" all the teachers within earshot cried in unison.
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Crocker walked into the classroom, deceptively all smiles and sunshine. His students, however, knew a storm was looming on the horizon. It was inevitable. Even if Crocker maintained his sunny outlook on life for the day, he was bound to cloud up everyone else's.
"Good morning, children," he greeted them, taking his seat at the head of the class, twirling around in the desk chair for a second, "Ah, it's good to be back."
"Good morning, Mr. Crocker," the children replied in monotonous voices.
"Since today begins the last week before school lets out for the summer," Crocker continued, "We will begin with...A POP QUIZ!!!"
The students vocalized their dismay.
"Quick! How many hairs are on my head?"
Dozens of children raised their hands. The answer was easy--zero. Crocker really didn't have any hair.
"While I'm wearing this?!" Crocker finished, pointing at the toupee on his head.
One by one the confident children dwindled until Timmy's hand was the last to go down. Crocker eyed him expectantly.
"Uh...uh..." Timmy stammered helplessly.
"F!" Crocker shouted, savoring the sound of the failing grade rolling off his tongue. Timmy exchanged glances with Chester and AJ.
"Guys," he sighed, "This is going to be a long week."
It was a long week indeed; a long week full of pop quizzes, ridiculous college-level
tests--of which no student was fortunate enough to pass--and lectures that somehow always ended on the subject of fairies. Several times, Timmy was tempted to feign illness simply to stay out of school and avoid Crocker altogether.
"Man! Why did he have to come back?" Timmy muttered to his pink backpack and green lunchbox Friday afternoon as he stopped at his locker between classes to drop off an endless assortment of disgraceful grades, "Things were so much easier when he wasn't here."
"Aw, cheer up, Sweetie," Wanda tried to console him, "Just think--after today, you won't have to cross paths with him at all!"
"Until school starts up again in August, that is," Cosmo added.
Little did any of them know, Crocker was lurking inside the locker right next to Timmy's, which, incidentally, turned out to be Francis's. Armed with a small camera, he was taking snapshots of Timmy conversing with his backpack and lunchbox--both of which had eyes, noses, and mouths and they were talking back. He almost had a spasm when both Cosmo and Wanda--oblivious to the stalking eyes--poofed themselves into fairy form. He quickly snapped a few more pictures.
"They called me foolish," Crocker chuckled darkly as he examined the instant snapshots, "They called me insane. They said I wasn't with the program, but wait until the world sees my proof! They will know that I've been right all these years! FAIRIES!!!"
Suddenly, the locker door opened and there, towering over his hunkered form, was Francis. He didn't look pleased until the idea crossed his mind that it might be fun to beat the living daylights out of the teacher who'd slapped a "Super F" in his face that very morning.
"Now, Francis, let's talk about this," Crocker chuckled nervously, sensing the amount of danger he was in, "You don't want to pulverize me. I'm your teacher--your nice, understanding, merciful educator who--"
"Gave me a 'Super F' about an hour ago," Francis finished, hauling Crocker out of the locker by his tie, then dragging him outside where he assaulted him and later deposited his mangled body in the dumpster.
Crocker was in pain, but he would survive. At least his proof had sustained the attack. At lunch period, he went in search of the principal. He wanted to rub it in her face first, figuring that perhaps she would regret discrediting and ditching him so long ago.
Timmy paused outside the cafeteria as Crocker stomped by, grinning evilly as he flipped through what looked like photographs--photographs featuring Cosmo and Wanda!
"Oh no!" Timmy gasped, "Where'd he get those?!"
"I'm not sure, Timmy," Wanda replied, worried, "He must have been spying on us from somewhere."
"He's going to use those photos to prove his theory!" Timmy cried, "We've got to do something! I wish the photos were really pictures of, uh...gerbils!"