Ch. 6-Tempus Fugit

Author's Note: THANK GOODNESS FOR SRPING BREAK! Oh, sorry...got carried away there. I just don't often find time to sit down and write, that's all, with having to get up before the chickens every morning for 10 months out of the year. Not a lot of action in this chapter, I'm afraid, though it is necessary in order to establish what happens in up-coming chapters. Things will liven up a bit later on, I promise.

As Frankie hung up the phone, after nearly an hour-long conversation with her friend, Elena, she had to ask herself, has it REALLY been nearly three weeks? It seemed like only a few days ago that she'd gone over to hang out with her friends, and wound up letting Elena and Kathie talk her into putting up her profile on one of those ridiculous dating sites that promise to help people find their one true soul-mate. OK, maybe not a soul-mate, in the case of THIS dating site, since you can hardly expect to find a soul-mate on a site that bills itself as "BlindDatesRFun Dot Com", now can you? Her friends, it seemed, were concerned that Frances "Frankie" Foster, now nearly 23, was destined to spend the rest of her life a cloistered old maid, due to what they considered her undue "pickiness" when it came to choosing Mr. Right. They'd convinced her that she should at least try to have a little fun, live a little now and then, and take risks, and that had led to her putting up a profile on the aforementioned dating site, sans picture, in the hopes of finding someone of like interests…someone who'd meet HER criteria, which included an understanding of just what she did for a living. Yeah, riiiight…

Frankie did have to admit that if nothing else, she got plenty of amusement at reading the anonymous responses to her profile. Take for example, "Bob", who, according to his profile, loved "taking long quiet walks on the beach, playing with puppies, and cuddling up in front of a cozy fireplace." Can't these people think of something more ORGINAL? Or "Tony", who insisted that he was, in fact, the reincarnation of a 14th-century Ninja warrior…Oooohhh, bet THAT would make for an interesting date!

"Let's face it, girl; your friends are probably right. You ARE too picky! Besides, no matter how strange these guys might seem, just imagine what they would think as soon as they found out that you clean toilets in a house for Imaginary Friends for a living! THEN tell me who's strange!" Frankie berated herself out loud, as she flopped down across her bed. Every guy she'd gone out with had been the same-they'd either dropped HER like a hot potato as soon as they found out what she did and where she lived, or they'd started acting like total jerks, prompting HER to give them the boot…in some cases, literally! As much as she loved her grandmother, and as devoted as she was to that odd assortment of often-bizarre-looking creatures who called the place home, at least until some family adopted them, it did indeed leave her wondering if there would ever, for her, be anything more to life than this. And now, nearly three weeks had passed, and she still had not seen even one profile that intrigued her on the dating site, not one guy that really seemed like someone she'd like to know a bit better, just more of the same-old, same-old, as her grandmother would put it. To make matters worse, her one night off for the month was approaching, and the thought of it being wasted, with nothing really to do and no one to do it with, other than listen to her friends tell her about how she might as become a Buddist priestess and go live on some remote mountain in the Himalayas, was really becoming a tad depressing.

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Three weeks! Had it REALLY been three weeks? ALREADY?

That was the predominant thought that gripped Wilt's mind like a snapping turtle, as he stared at the little desktop calendar Bloo held up in front of his face, with a fast-approaching date circled in red. How'd the time go by THAT fast, anyways?

Somehow, though, Wilt managed to feign indifference to that little calendar, and to Bloo's smug grin. He waved his hand dismissively in Bloo's direction.

"Like I said, Bloo, NO PROBLEMO! I've got plenty of time-I just need to sit down and choose between all the women that have been callin' ME, that's all."

Inwardly, Wilt winced. He hated to tell lies, but felt it was justified for no other reason that it would keep his opponent off-guard, and if there was one thing Wilt had learned from his experiences playing basketball, it was that this was the way you win the game, by never letting your opponent see you sweat.

"Oh, take your time, Wilt, take your time. Please. I'm not closing bids on those sports collector cards until this date, anyway, so it'll give me plenty of time to choose, too-and PICK THE HIGHEST BIDDER!"

Wilt scowled down at him, but said nothing more, knowing that the more he said, the worse the situation was going to get. It worked on one level, at least, since Bloo seemed to realize that he wasn't going to get any further with this conversation, either, and left the room, leaving Wilt to stew in his own pot of desperation. Well, the Rolling Stones were wrong about ONE thing, Wilt mused, wondering, at the same time, just where THAT thought had come from, Time is NOT on MY side! With the randomness of that thought came a new one, a more urgent one-he was not going to be able to pull this off alone. He was going to have no choice but to seek someone's help in this matter, if he expected to win. That was OK, right? He didn't remember any rules that said you couldn't have a bit of outside help in order to win a bet. If you wanna win, you do whatever it takes. Problem was, WHO'S help was he going to seek? Just WHO was going to help HIM, of all individuals, land a human date within less than a week? One thing is certain, though-you aren't gonna find someone to help you lyin' here in the bed like a worn-out blanket feelin' sorry for youself, anymore than you can win a game by sittin' on the bleachers! With a deep breath, Wilt forced himself to get up and head downstairs, still not quite sure what his plan of action should be, but at least secure in knowing that he looked as though he had a plan of action, if nothing else.

As it happened, almost the exact same thought crossed Frankie's mind at the same time. She wasn't going to land a date by lying across the bed feeling sorry for herself, no way. HER first plan of action was to call…no, that was NOT her first plan of action. Her first plan of action was to go downstairs and fix herself a nice, big steamy mug of hot chocolate. Everyone knows a girl's mind functions better with chocolate on board, after all. Sitting up and sliding her feet into her shoes, she got up and resolutely struck out for the kitchen. At least this way, she mused, I LOOK like I've got a plan!

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For some reason, Frankie wasn't really that surprised to find Wilt already in the kitchen, though usually this would be somewhat odd for the evening. He would normally be hanging out with his friends now, probably watching tv or playing video games, or perhaps up in his room, listening to the radio. Lately though, Frankie's own dateless situation or not, she'd noticed that Wilt had seemed a bit…distracted, for lack of a better word. His morning conversations over breakfast preparations had been lacking something, his trademark smile seeming a bit, well, forced. She hadn't really bothered asking him again just what the problem was, not since that morning of what had come to be known as the "Great Foster's Shark Panic". She knew that unless Wilt really wanted to discuss something, there was no point in pushing him. As frustrating as this trait could be at times, Frankie had to admit she found it intriguing, as it lent an air of mystery to this otherwise happy, optimistic being whom she'd known for so many years now, yet really didn't know at all. It was all the more obvious that something was wrong tonight, when Wilt completely failed to even acknowledge her entrance over the cup of black coffee he was sipping, even though he was facing her direction.

Frankie took a second to take all this in, before clearing her throat. Wilt nearly dropped the steaming cup of coffee as he snapped his posture upright with a startled gasp.

"Oh, s-sorry, Frankie…I didn't hear you come in", he stammered a bit, looking around for a dishrag to wipe up a bit of coffee that had sloshed out onto the floor, "how's it goin'?"

"You're drinking COFFEE, at NIGHT? I sure hope that's Decaf!"

"Uh, well, no, it's not, actually", Wilt responded, almost as if he'd been caught doing something taboo, then added with a little chuckle, "never could see the point in Decaf coffee, myself. Sorta like non-alcoholic whiskey, when you think about it."

"OHHhh-Kaaayy", Frankie responded, her eyebrows raised in surprise at hearing Wilt, of all the Imaginary Friends in the house, make a reference to alcohol. "Well, at least I have an idea of why you've been losing sleep lately."

Wilt looked stunned, his jaw dropping open as he stared at her. But HOW did SHE know? He tried to fake another chuckle, but it came out more like a snort, one he hoped didn't sound too nervous. "Frankie, what makes you think I've been losin' sleep, I mean, I've never slept better, I just, I just…"

Frankie silenced him with a single index finger held up in front of her. "Wilt," she began, softly but firmly, "I've known you ever since I came to live here at Foster's. You're the only Friend who's helped me at all around this place. All those mornings we've gotten breakfast ready…maybe it's just female intuition, but I KNOW something's bothering you." She paused, watching his expression, "whatever it is, I want you to know that I'm here, anytime you feel like talking about it. I just hate to see you suffering like this. You're not YOU, and I'm starting to miss the old You. Please, don't think you have to keep this to yourself, but just understand that whatever it is, I won't let it get past the two of us, OK?"

For several seconds Wilt could not even begin to compose a response. He just stared down at the floor, his mouth twisting itself up in thought. Then it was HIS turn to become the Concerned Party. "So, you didn't answer MY question, 'bout how things are goin' with YOU." He straightened up and gazed at her face, in a manner that Frankie found almost unnerving. What, he's turning mind-reader all of a sudden? Or, am I THAT obvious?

"Things…are…going…alright…I guess…I mean…yeah. Sorta. They're fine. Why?"

"I'm sorry; I know it's none of my business, but you've just seemed a little bit distracted, or somethin', lately, too. Wait, I didn't mean it like that…sorry!"

At times, Frankie found Wilt's secretiveness frustrating, but she also could not help but admire his determination, which, she thought, was a trait she wished SHE possessed. As it were, she found herself unable to hold back from filling him in on her plight, from her girlfriends' admonition of her lack of male companionship, to their challenge to find such companionship in time for her next night off.

"So, here I am," she stated, wrapping up her sad story, "three weeks later and I still haven't even spoken to a guy, let alone gotten a date with one. Pathetic, isn't it? It's just that every guy I meet either turns out to be a complete jerk-face, or else they go running home to mama as soon as they find out what I do for a living."

Wilt shook his head in sympathy, having listened patiently to her whole story-ANYTHING to keep from having to tell HER about HIS situation-then finally spoke up, placing his coffee down on the counter he was now sitting on. "I wouldn't worry too much about what your friends say, Frankie. I know that somewhere out there, there's this perfect guy who'll treat you like the wonderful person you are, who deserves to be with you." He then added, almost hesitantly, "Though, to be perfectly honest, I sometimes hope you never find him." Seeing Frankie's somewhat surprised expression, he continued, "I'm sorry, I just meant that if you found somebody, then you'd be leaving US. I know that's selfish…sorry…but then who would laugh at my dumb jokes or put up with my bad Luther Vandros impersonations each morning?"

"Awwww…you have a wonderful singing voice, Wilt! I thought I'd told you that, and your jokes aren't THAT dumb, not if they can make ME laugh at six o'clock in the morning!" Frankie paused, and stretched her arms out in front, her fingers laced together. "You know, Wilt," she said, softly, "If more of the guys out there were more like you, I don't think I'd have this problem. If only they could be more caring, and more helpful, and just pay more attention to others' feelings, I wouldn't feel like I was wasting my time trying to find somebody." She sighed, since she knew that there probably was no one, not anymore, who could measure up.

Wilt seemed somewhat embarrassed by the praise, as usual, but managed a softly-spoken reply, "Thanks, Frankie. That means a lot to me, really. Don't' worry, though; I know you'll find somebody. You know, if I was hu…."

The rest of his response was cut short by the opening of the swinging kitchen door, as he and Frankie both turned to see who it was, hoping that it would not be Mr. Herriman, coming in to berate them about being in the kitchen past established kitchen hours(whatever THOSE were). Instead, they were greeted by the sight of Coco, standing in the doorway with a rolled-up newspaper tucked underneath her stubby wing. Coco's appearance, while surprising, came as an immense relief to Wilt, as that little voice in the back of his head had started yelling at him again that he was about to say something REALLY stupid. Coco, as it were, saved him from making this into a completely embarrassing situation.

"Oh, hi, Coco. You lookin' for me?" Wilt asked, barely able to contain a sigh of relief as the full impact of what had been about to come from his mouth right before Coco walked in. Coco did not reply, but simply stood there, shifting her gaze from Wilt to Frankie, Frankie to Wilt, then back to Frankie, and letting her gaze linger a bit longer, and a bit stronger, on Frankie.

Frankie seemed to get the point. "OK, I guess you two want to talk about something, so I guess I'm gonna have to pass on that cup of hot chocolate and head on back to my room." She paused for a moment after standing up, then added, "See you in the morning, Wilt. And remember what I said, if you need to talk to me about something."

"I'll keep it mind, yeah. 'Night, Frankie", Wilt gave her one last smile as she departed the kitchen. Part of him was relieved that she'd left before he said something so profoundly stupid that it jeopardized their very friendship, and part of him hated to see her go, knowing that he really, really DID need to tell her about his plight, since Frankie, he figured, would be the one person in the entire house who'd likely be able to actually help, though just HOW, Wilt had no idea.

As it turned out, though, Wilt was wrong on one account. There WAS actually someone else in the house who could help, or was at least going to give it a try, and that someone WAS female.

"So, Coco, what's up with the newspaper?" Wilt queried his roommate and friend. Coco glanced around, as if to make sure that Frankie really had left, then reached under her wing with her beak and grabbed the paper, placing it on the table in front of them. "Co co co co co CO co" she proclaimed, very matter-of-factly.

"You found a way to help me? But HOW? With a newspaper?"

"CO, co Cococo!"

Wilt frowned, "The internet? Sorry, Coco, but I still don't get it."

Rolling her eyes, Coco reached up with one of her oddly human-like feet, and pointed to something in the newspaper, something circled in red ink. His eye following the direction of Coco's toes, Wilt looked at the part she was pointing out to him. It was an ad. Wilt picked up the paper for closer inspection, and realized that it was not only an ad, it was an ad for an online dating service, "BlindDatesRFun Dot Com. His face lit up as he realized what Coco had been trying to tell him.

"Coco, you're a GENIUS! This site promises it can hook up ANYBODY with a date! Maybe they can even help ME, right? It says, all I gotta do is to go online and register and fill out a profile and….uhm, wait…" Wilt's enthusiasm began to falter a bit. "But, this is on the internet, and I don't know that much about the internet. I don't even know that much about computers, period!" He leaned back against the counter once more, rubbing his chin with his one hand, trying to come up with a solution to this newest dilemma. Why did it always seem as though every time he found a solution to a problem, ANOTHER problem got in the way of the solution? He looked at Coco. "Do YOU know much about the internet, Coco?"

As expected, Coco shook her head, then spoke up with another suggestion. "Co coco Coco?"

"Geeky? Yeah, HE'D know…oh, wait," Wilt groaned, "Geeky got adopted last week, remember?"

Coco sighed. Wilt turned to pour out the remains of his now-cold coffee down the drain, and started washing out the mug, speaking out loud to both himself and to his companion. "Now, WHO do we know who's really good with computers and the internet and all that high-tech stuff, and who can be trusted not to blab to everybody in the house about this? I mean, there's gotta be SOMEBODY! If only…" Wilt suddenly broke off the rest of his sentence as the idea hit him like hammer, his face breaking into that characteristic grin. He snapped his fingers as he answered himself, "and I know JUST the right person to ask!"