This one-shot is already too long without a five-hundred word author's note, so I have a mere three words for you: Writer's Block sucks.
Disclaimer: Hey, look over there! Yes, right there! See that person who doesn't own Fairly OddParents or any of its characters? That's me. True story.
15. Tiny (Prompt 060)
Anti-Wanda just didn't understand. She didn't understand why Anti-Cozzie wouldn't let her play with his new-and-improved ray thingy, didn't understand why he kept the key to that room in the same spot as every other key to every other room (the top right drawer of the bathroom), and definitely didn't understand why the dot above an 'i' was called a tittle.
What was an anti-fairy to do?
Well, what any dimwitted wife would do when their husband wouldn't let them fiddle with a potentially dangerous ray: she snuck in to go play with it, of course.
She had a wonderful time flipping switches, pulling levers, and pushing buttons of all sorts of colours; that is, until the man of the house decided to crash her little party.
Anti-Cosmo sauntered in, holding a cup of tea and humming something to himself, not noticing his wife sitting at the machine's controls. He went to go examine the small control box by the ray's tip, perhaps to check if the circuits were still in tip-top shape, but halfway there he noticed a flicker of movement to his left. Cautiously, he turned to the left, and met the guilty gaze of a slightly blushing Anti-Wanda.
He immediately opened his mouth to reprimand her in a not-so-quiet tone, but noticed that her left hand was positioned right over the 'start' button of the laser. "Anti-Wanda," he began carefully."Please do not move a muscle." He said, slowly backing away from the ray. "Whatever you do, don't touch that shiny red button under your hand." As soon as he said it, he knew he was—for lack of a better word—royally screwed.
"Ya mean this 'un?" His wife gave a dopey grin, pointing to the button, her finger accidentally pressing down on its shiny red surface.
The laser roared to life, and the emergency shields Anti-Cosmo had installed around the laser popped up (because his test subjects obviously weren't going to be volunteers), effectively trapping the mastermind.
All he could do was place his hands against the restricting walls, mutter a curse, and squeeze his eyes shut before the laser sent a direct blast of blue light straight at his chest, filling the room with smoke.
Anti-Wanda's bright pink eyes widened to a comical level. "Oopsies," she whispered, putting her hands behind her back and inching slowly away from the controls.
The female anti-fairy allowed the smoke to dissipate, and when it did she stood stock still and could do nothing but stare at the small figure who stood just beyond the tip of the laser. He was a small anti-fairy, a child by the looks of it. His green eyes stared inquisitively back at Anti-Wanda, a look of utter confusion forming on his young face.
Anti-Wanda didn't know much—scratch that, she barely knew anything, but she did know that whoever had come out of the smoke was definitely related to Anti-Cosmo.
So she merely stood there, gaping, while he gazed back at her with a measured curiosity.
"And who, may I inquire, are you?"
Foop heard a loud explosion and looked up from his unfinished plots, creasing his brow in confusion. What was that? "Mother? Father?" He called.
When no reply came, he shrugged slightly and went back to his plans. After staring down for approximately ten seconds, the young genius threw his hands up. "Curse this short attention span!" He muttered, leaving his papers and letting his childlike curiosity get the better of him. Exasperated by himself, he floated up spiral staircase to go see what had happened.
He wasn't worried that something had happened to either of his parents. No, Foop cared for no one but himself. He just wondered what had caused the explosion.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed a cloud of smoke billowing from the room where his father had been working on his minifying ray. Foop frowned, but headed down the hall, his interest in the situation increasing with each flap of his bat-like wings.
He peeked his head around the corner, and sighed with exasperation when he saw that his mother was standing at the controls of the ray. Following her dumbstruck gaze, he saw she was staring at a small blue shape in the middle of the floor.
"Mother, what have you done this time?" Foop spoke before he could stop himself.
Anti-Wanda's eyes immediately flicked to her son, and visible relief washed over her face in a tidal wave.
The small figure in the centre of the room turned around, and Foop had to blink a few times to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving him. Standing in the centre of the room, eyes narrowed and mouth twisted in a scowl, was a miniature version of Anti-Cosmo.
"Oh, for the love of world domination . . ." Foop muttered. In a louder voice, he continued: "Anti-Cosmo?"
A young version of his father nodded, looking Foop up and down sceptically. "Of course. Who did you think I was, the Queen of bloody England?" The superior tone of his voice made Foop narrow his eyes.
The baby—er, the purple-eyed one—opened his mouth to deliver a stinging retort, but Anti-Wanda spoke first.
"Y'all ain't Anti-Cozzie, you's too tiny!"
Anti-Cosmo glowered at her. "My name is Anti-Cosmo, not 'Anti-Cozzie', and please, I'm only five years old. You really don't expect me to be the size of an adult, do you?"
"You're only five?" Foop asked, eyebrows raised.
The small version of his father gave a dramatic sigh, rolling his emerald eyes. "Must I repeat everything I say?"
"That depends, do you want me to turn you into a butterfly?" Foop spat, a glare of pure contempt plastered onto his young face.
Anti-Wanda glanced down at her son with a shockingly parental look. "Foop, be nice to yer—uh, yer daddy," she said, and Anti-Cosmo's eyebrows lifted to match his son's in a disbelieving look.
After a moment, he asked, "Did you just call me his father?"
"Now who's repeating things?" Foop sneered, shooting a superior look in the direction of Anti-Cosmo.
"Just answer the question!"
"Yes, she called you my father," Foop said, relishing the confused look on Anti-Cosmo's face.
After a moment, the five-year-old laughed, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. "You—you think I'm his father?" Anti-Cosmo spluttered between chuckles. "Oh, that's rich. I suppose you're going to tell me next that she's your mother?" He nodded towards Anti-Wanda, grinning from ear to ear like a madman.
The female smiled back, her ignorance still getting the better of her. "That's right, Mister Smarty-Pants!"
At this, Anti-Cosmo laughed harder, placing a hand on the wall for balance. "Stop . . . you're killing me!" His laughter echoed around the room, sounding eerie and unnatural.
Foop watched Anti-Wanda—well, more specifically he watched the smoke coming out from her head as the seldom used gears in her head turned. After a few unnerving moments, her face fell as a rare look of understanding crossed her features.
Well, Foop thought. I suppose even Anti-Wanda can only remain clueless for so long.
"I's bein' for real," Anti-Wanda said, looking hurt.
The young Anti-Cosmo smirked unkindly. "No, you're not. The fairies have put a ban on breeding because of my idiotic counterpart, Cosmo." His wrinkled his small nose in disgust. "Besides, I'm way too young to have children. Even if I was going to have children, they most certainly wouldn't be with you." He said with a look of pointed repulsion, because who in their right mind would copulate with that?
His wife blinked a few times in a futile attempt to understand what he was saying. "You . . . wha? Why?" She asked, voice gaining a pitch as tears began to form behind her eyes..
"For one, even though I've only just met you, I can tell you're a complete imbecile who probably can't tell your right from left, second, your actions and words are so joyous that it is literally sickening, and to top it off you are not attractive in any way, shape, or form," the young mastermind said matter-of-factly, staring her in the eyes.
Anti-Wanda's bottom lip quivered, and Foop himself felt an odd twinge of pity for his mother. Not liking the odd feeling, he shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to defend the strangely chipper anti-fairy.
Obviously holding back a sob, Anti-Wanda twirled her wand and poofed away, leaving only a sorry-looking cloud of dark smoke in her place.
Anti-Cosmo gave a roll of his mint-green eyes. "Good riddance."
The cube-shaped baby glanced to his father. "As much as I find siding with either you or mother abhorrent, I must say that was uncalled for."
Anti-Cosmo shrugged nonchalantly. "I couldn't honestly care less about what is called and uncalled for."
"You are so vexatious, even as a child. Do you ever take a break from it?" Foop groaned. Why did he have to be stuck with the most annoying, idiotic parents ever? As if his life wasn't terrible already, having Poof as a counterpart. Oh, how he loathed that creature. His stupid spherical body, the stupid way he spoke—if that blubbering could even be categorized as speaking.
Suddenly, Foop was jolted out of his thoughts by his father's voice. "Do you ever take a break from being an spoiled, egotistical brat?" He asked, smiling at Foop with a mock-innocence.
Foop growled and narrowed his lavender eyes, his lips curving down to form a frown. "That is it." He snarled. "You're coming back to regular size now, whether you like it or not." Without waiting for a reply, the cube-shaped baby shoved his minimised father closer to the laser and quickly flew up to the controls.
Anti-Cosmo stared up at him with a mixture of idle curiosity and triumph as Foop switched the lever to reverse, and he paused for a moment.
He could leave his father as a toddler, and take Anti-Fairy World for himself, couldn't he? Then again, his father was still older than him. But I am still the more intelligent of the two of us, Foop thought. No, the other side of him argued. You know nothing about doing all that annoying paperwork that father has to deal with, and you don't want to know. Best to turn him back and get him to deal with that when you take over in a few years. Yes, that's a good idea.
Quick as a flash (and before he could change his mind), the lavender-eyed baby switched the lever to 'reverse' and pressed the big red button that had started this whole mess.
Again, the walls sprang up and Anti-Cosmo, realising he was trapped and without a wand, couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for whomever had built the contraption. Whoever had made this ray had thought of positively everything, and he was certain they must've been a genius. "Who built this laser?"
Foop rolled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time. "You did, you mediocre dunce," he said, muttering the last part under his breath.
"Well," Anti-Cosmo said, sounding faintly amused as the laser begun to glow. "I must say that I did a wonderfully splendid job."
The laser fired again, filling the room with a flash of bright blue light, and then changed into a thick, acrid smoke. Foop mentally crossed his fingers and floated down to see what had become of his father.
"Ugh, I feel as if I've been sat on by an elephant," Anti-Cosmo's perturbed voice floated up to Foop's pointed ears, and Foop squinted through the smoke, able to pick out an Anti-Cosmo-like outline through the dark cloud.
Foop cleared his throat inconspicuously. "As much as I find your very existence loathesome, I must say that it is good to have you back."
As the smoke dissipated, the younger was able to make out his father's unamused look. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you. Would you be so kind as to give me an explanation of why I feel as if I've been hit with a freight train and then trampled by a parade of elephants?"
With a small, exaggerated sigh, Foop launched into the tedious retelling of the past few minutes. Although Anti-Cosmo kept his infamous cool, Foop noticed the twitch of his eyebrows when the baby told him of his insults toward Anti-Wanda.
"—And now we can say with certainty that your little 'fountain of youth' ray works," Foop finished sarcastically, crossing his small arms over his pajama-clad chest and quirking his lips into a dark smile.
"Do you know where your mother went?" Anti-Cosmo asked, ignoring the younger's tone.
Foop's mouth twitched slightly downward. If only his father hadn't grown so soft, he could probaby become almost as smart as Foop himself. Oh well, his loss. "I haven't the foggiest."
"I suppose I should go find her," Anti-Cosmo said, darting glances around the room uneasily.
Before Foop could so much as to think to form a reply, his father had twirled his wand and vanished, leaving nothing but a dark cloud of smoke and the word 'worried!' in swirly green lettering. Foop rolled his eyes. His mother would be fine; he doubted she would even remember this incident in a few hours.
Anti-Wanda's bottom lip trembled violently, tears cascading down her face. She had anti-poofed herself far, far away from the castle, and found herself floating in the middle of a large, grassy field.
With a soft sob, she dropped to the ground and began to hide within the tall grasses around her.
Why had Anti-Cosmo been so mean to her? He loved her, didn't he?
Didn't he?
Anti-Wanda frowned, trying to concentrate on her thoughts.
Well, first of all, her marriage to Anti-Cosmo was arranged, on account of their counterparts' marriage. Second, Anti-Cosmo had insulted her on numerous occasions when she had unwittingly foiled his plots, and lastly, Anti-Wanda was a complete outcast compared to her husband, who was a greatly feared and respected leader.
Although, he had always apologised after his outbursts, often going so far as to allow her to pick a book for him to read to her. He had also included her in council meetings, something that although boring, were nice to be a part of. He defended her from bullies, too; usually disintegrating them into small piles of dust which she loved to toss into the wind and watch their tiny pieces float gently away.
Anti-Cosmo had taught her a whole bunch of things, too. He taught her how to read, write, eat sandwiches without getting crumbs all over the place—oh, sandwiches. Anti-Wanda loved sandwiches!
Distracted by the tantalising thought of a sandwich, Anti-Wanda waved her wand and a large plate of bacon, anchovy and tomato sandwiches appeared. She took one of the sandwiches near the bottom with her feet, causing the others to tumble off of the not-so-neatly stacked plate.
Ignoring the mess, she bit into her sandwich with a satisfied crunch. Why couldn't everything be like a sandwich? You could put whatever you wanted into them, eat them with your feet, and they were nice to you. Sandwiches didn't talk back to you; in fact, they didn't talk at all! Sandwiches were the perfect friends—
"Anti-Wanda?"
Anti-Wanda jumped back, startled out of her thoughts.
"Anti-Wanda!"
Oh, it was him. With a small huff, she scrunched herself further into the grass, not wanting to be found.
"I can see you, dear," came her husband's accented voice, tone gently scolding.
Anti-Wanda frowned, but brought her head up to look him in the eye. Childishly, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her best pout. She couldn't really care less about how immature she looked.
"I's mad at you," she said simply.
He shifted, putting his arms behind his back and swallowing heavily.
"About that," he began. "You see, that ray that I had been working on, its purpose is to make the subject a child again; a sort of fountain of youth, if you will." His eyes twitched, wanting to look away from the rose-coloured ones that gazed sceptically at him.
Anti-Wanda's frown only deepened further.
He continued on, concentrating on not changing his expression. "When you pressed that button—which I remember specifically telling you not to press, by the way—it turned me into a baby." He paused for a moment, studying her never-changing expression. It frustrated him to no end when she did this, as it was always easier to get his way when he could get a read on someone.
He sighed, knowing what he'd have to tell her. "Do you remember when I first met you?"
She nodded reluctantly, frown still in place.
"When I was younger, all I wanted was to be left alone to my schemes. You remember that when I first met you, I . . . disliked you." That's putting it mildly, mocked a voice in the back of Anti-Cosmo's mind. You absolutely loathed her.
Meanwhile, Anti-Wanda cringed slightly as memories surfaced. She gave a short, curt nod, urging him to continue.
"Back then, I was, uh, quite close-minded." Anti-Cosmo said, hating having to admit his flaws. He glared at the ground.
Anti-Wanda looked confused. "Y'all liked clothes?"
"No, I mean that I was . . . sort of, uh, shallow, in the respect that I thought all that mattered in this world was intelligence. That and wickedness. I had never really given much thought to other things that could be worth something." He mumbled, still trying to burn a hole in the ground with his glare. After this, he was definitely hiding the keys to the ray somewhere else.
Anti-Wanda's frowned returned. "Oh," she said quietly, trying to comprehend all of the complicated words her husband was using. "Things like what?" She finally asked, gaze turning quizzical.
Anti-Cosmo blanched and swallowed nervously, fiddling with his hands behind his back and trying not to concentrate on the rose-coloured eyes that were focused on his every movement. "Things like, perhaps, feelings of deep affection or incredible fondness for someone." He feverishly hoped that she would stop her atrocious line of questioning.
"What?"
Someone up there must really, really hate him. Or at the very least, enjoy watching him suffer.
Anti-Cosmo mentally groaned. "Things like . . ." He trailed off, grimacing. "Things like love." Saying the word made him twitch uncomfortably.
Continuing her streak of one-word answers, she replied with another small, "Oh."
Finally, Anti-Cosmo's patience (or what was left of it) snapped. "Look, Anti-Wanda, I had no intention to be transformed into a toddler. I had no control over what I said to you, and even though none of this was my fault, except maybe leaving the keys in an obvious spot, I am really and truly sorry for my previous actions. Now may we please go home and forget about this entire ordeal?" He burst out, frustrated.
His wife frowned. She wasn't really sure if that counted as a proper apology, or if it really sufficed. "If I says yes, can I play with yer ray-thingy?" She asked hopefully.
"No," he deadpanned.
Her shoulders drooped, and he sighed heavily, knowing that he was going to regret saying this. "Fine, but only if I'm with you at all times!" He offered her a hand. "Now may we go?"
Anti-Wanda nodded, taking his outstretched hand with a satisfied grin. Anti-Cosmo rolled his mint-coloured eyes in exasperation, but smiled as he waved his wand, the two of them disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke that hand a single word swirled in the centre.
Lovebirds!
A 3443-word one-shot. Well, it's official: I cannot make them fight without writing a super-cheesy reconciliation. Oh well, it could be worse. I could be terrible at writing as a whole. Hehe.
Oh, and before I forget, I just want to thank Sucker For Love for taking the time to go through and review practically every chapter. :) Thank you!
You know what I love? Reviews. Adore them. Would probably consider some of them my best friends. So you know what you should do after reading this? You should leave a review. No, seriously, you should. It might just make me smile. ;D