Chapter Three
"How do you feel, Wanda?" Timmy sad as she grogilly started to float again.
"Remind me not to do that again when the Justice Field is in place", Wanda mumbled. The Justice Field saw any malevolent act as something to inflict upon its inflictor and the anvil she poofed up over Cosmo came under that category. Therefore, Wanda felt the full effects of it instead of Cosmo.
Cosmo poofed Wanda back to being un-hurt, saying, "I hope you learned a lesson about bring mean to Kevin". He was cradling his pet rock in his hand.
Wanda whispered sotto voce to Timmy, "Remind me to poof up another anvil when we're outside the house". Timmy nodded.
For the next couple of hours, Timmy just relaxed and played the 'no-homework game' - in other words, playing the V-cube. He was having fun playing 'The Bad Parent Hunter Game'. He was finally shaken out of his concentration when he heard, "Get down here, Twerp!" from downstairs.
"Oh, I guess Vicky finally woke up. She wants to see me", Timmy said to Cosmo and Wanda. Putting down his V-cube control, he left his bedroom and headed downstairs.
"Thought I'd sleep through it all, didn't you, Twerp?" Vicky snarled when Timmy entered the living room. Vicky thought that those weird things that happened to her was a dream.
"Well, it was nice and quiet for a change", Timmy replied.
"Well, it won't be now! You haven't done the dishes yet, so get in there and do them!", she ordered.
"It's only a couple of plates, Vicky, so it won't take long", Timmy pointed out.
"Well, I'll make it more fun then!". With that, she threw through the door an open sack of manure.
Unfortunately for Vicky, the Justice Field took care of the problem in an appropriate manner. As the manure spread out in the kitchen from the open bag, it all vanished. The next second, the manure reappeared back in her house - actually in her bedroom.
Timmy walked into the kitchen, smirked at the disappearance of the manure, then wiped the two plates, the serving dish that the mean had been stored in, and the cutlery that had been used. He then sat down at the kirchen table and relaxed for a while.
After a few minutes, Vicky noticed that it was too quiet in the kitchen. She stormed in, thinking that Timmy was goofing off from cleaning the manure, but instead, she saw a clean kitchen and Timmy just sitting there watching her.
"How did you get this all clean so quick?" she demanded.
"Just a quick cleaner, I guess", Timmy replied with a smile.
"I don't like smiles when I baby-sit, Twerp!", Vicky snarled as she walked up and cuffed him across the head.
Timmy didn't feel the impact, but Vicky suddenly went "Ow!" and put her hand up on her own forehead.
"Are you all right, Vicky?" Timmy innocently asked, "you seem to be hurting yourself for a change".
Vicky got angry at Timmy's amused tone. She stormed out, then came back in with a paintball gun.
"Here's something to liven up your evening, Twerp!" she said, "And I don't use paintballs, I use hard candy for ammo instead. Start running!".
Timmy did. Vicky started running after him, firing the paintball gun, but for some reason, every time that she did, she felt pains on parts of her body, like it was her that was being hit instead of Timmy.
"Who's firing at me?" Vicky screamed as she brought up her paintball gun and looked around. Was it a sniper? Just then, a sound of a car pulling up diverted her attention.
"The Twerp's parents. They're home!" she said. She quickly placed the paintball gun into her Tote bag and quickly made sure that the house was in order. She had just finished checking when the Turners walked in.
"Hi, Vicky", Mr. Turner said in greeting, "We're done for this evening, so you can head home now".
"Thank you, Mr. Turner", Vicky said. Quickly taking the money that Mrs. Turner held out for her, she picked up her tote bag and headed out.
"Look, Dear", Mrs. Turner said to her husband as she left, "look at those bruises on her. Looks like she's been playing paintball".
"Well, at least it doesn't look like she played it in here", Mr. Turner replied, looking at the inside of the house.
"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad", Timmy said as he entered the living room.
"Have a nice evening?" Mrs. Turner asked.
"The best evening I've had for a while", Timmy honestly replied.
Vicky walked home is a bemused state. She just couldn't make the twerp suffer. Out of spite, she took out her paintball gun and fired it at a kid pedaling his bike on the street. She was rewarded with the kid shouting an "ow" as he was hit. At least that worked okay (and since she was now out of the Justice Field at the Turner residence, it would. However, she didn't know that Timmy had wished for another Justice Field at her home...)
Getting home, she decided to make up for her shortfall of misery by taking it out on the family. She pushed open the door and walked into the living room shining a flashlight in her face and going "Muuuaaahhhaaaa!"
Mr. and Mrs. Flannigan were sitting on the sofa holding on to each other, shivering in fear. They were shivering even more so as Vicky pulled out her remote contol that controlled the shock bracelets on her parents' ankles.
"Time for another little reminder of who's in charge", Vicky said as she stabbed down on the button.
Mr. and Mrs. Flannigan cringed to await the shocks that would send painful currents of electricity through their bodies. However, they didn't feel any pain. On the contrary, Vicky started jumping up and down, moaning in pain.
In her spasms, Vicky dropped the remote, causing the button to go back into the 'off' position. Vicky stopped writhing in pain.
Mr. and Mrs. Flannigan looked at Vicky in suprise. It looked like she was shocking herself, bet they could see no shock bracelet on her legs at all! Vicky groggily got her bearings, then with no further word, she went upstairs. A few seconds later, they heard Vicky scream.
"Who trashed my room?!!!" she shouted. Her room had manure all over it, half of her Chip Skylark magazines had been burned, and the rest of them torn up.
Tootie came outside her room and walked over to Vicky's room, wondering what the noise was about. Vicky saw her, then turned on her.
"So it was you, was it, Twerpette?" she snarled. Tootie shook her head, but she was smiling at the mess in Vicky's room. Vicky tyurned red at seeing Tootie's expression.
"Time to wash off that smirk", Vicky said, grabbing Tootie and carrying her over to the bathroom.
Holding her by her legs over the commode, Vicky said, "Okay, Twerpette, time to lose that grin, then I'm going to find out who trashed my room!".
Vicky dunked Tootie into the commode, but Tootie didn't feel wet. Vicky, on the other hand felt her head get soaked, then she started having problems breathing - like she was under water.
Vicky passed out, letting Tootie go. Tootie climbed out of the commode, wondering (a) why she was dry, and (b) wondering why Vicky was wet. She saw that Vicky's arms and legs had several welts on them.
"Looks like she's been shooting herself with her own paintball gun", Tootie mused, "serves her right".
Tootie headed back to her room, none the worse for wear, leaving a very battered, soaked, and half-drowned Vicky in the bathroom...