As far as ruts in a tree went he supposed it was a dandy, possibly one to be proud of. Although, he couldn't quite agree to that, even if he would be proud of it, because of who the creator of the admirable rut was. His lovely pink squirrel of a wife was assuredly giving her legs more of a work out than they had seen in recent months, years even. It wasn't exactly something he tried to keep track of, so he wasn't completely sold on his views on the passing of time. For all he knew, she had run a marathon last week and he just forgot. There was no forgetting the look on her face, though. The hardening of her winter pink eyes to a ruddy, burnt color and her already showing crowfeet cracking like poorly mixed cement pooling down pale cheeks to thinly pressed lips and a tightly set jaw; her quickened gait, the white knuckle hold on her wand. It lead to one thing: Wanda was anxious as all Hell.

It frightened him that he couldn't do a thing for himself, his wife, and especially for the two little boys below. So he sat, acorn clutched tightly in his little green paw, with half an eye on Wanda and the other half on the oldest of the two children, reminding himself to breathe.

Accidents happen. Accidents happen. Accidents happen. He repeated over and over to himself. Two halves of a whole idiot trying to guide a hyperactive small boy into adulthood and care for a baby at the same time? Accidents happen. Right?

Young Timmy Turner felt as if someone had turned his innards to rock and ice. It was all he could do to just breathe. In and out, in and out, no rushing, rushing could turn catastrophic. His palms were getting unbearably sweaty, but with little Poof tucked snugly against his back there was little he could do. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out his god-parents in the tree above, watching with terror very evident in their faces. Timmy brought his attention back down, angling his body in an attempt at shielding the unexplainable creature he held from the dismissive eyes of his father, who stood over his short son with a very confused look upon his strong face. The grown man's sturdy baby blues swept over the scene repeatedly, his mouth contorting with each unspoken thought. Timmy began to sweat profusely, clinging as tight as he dare to his baby god-brother, as he felt his father's gaze drift from him to the space around him and back again.

Not good. Not good! Timmy cringed, watching as Mr. Turner raised a finger and opened his mouth, only to lose his gusto and retract the gestures in favor of more confusion.

The purple clad baby squirmed before going stiff. It was only a matter of minutes before he would try to dislodge himself from his protector's arms. Timmy knew it, felt it, and boy did he ever feel it. The squat and pudgy infant had just filled his pants. Disgust was now slowly seeping through the anxiety on his face, as the weight of the soggy diaper started to mold itself to his arms. He really wished his dad would hurry up and start yelling.

Timmy kicked the scorched, loose dirt at his feet. "Dad, I can."

"Uh-bub-bub, just a moment Timmy, I'm not done being confused."

The small boy's eyes drifted downward with a sigh. "Like that'll ever happen."

Mr. Turner started. "What did you say, young man?"

Timmy glared, bravado from nowhere flowing through him. "I said that'll never happen, because I didn't do this!"

Dad crossed his arms and took on his most authoritative stance. "Then why are you standing in the middle of a foot deep, scorched, charred, and otherwise barren crater so far away from our picnic table, hm?"

"I was bored. You and Mom were completely fixated with that dog."

"Hey now, you leave that cute little puppy and it's more adorable than you'll ever be owner out of this."

His face fell in disbelieve. "More adorable? Dad, it was a six year old girl in pigtails, of course she's more adorable than me! I'm a dirty, mud loving boy."

"Well, you have a point there, but you're still in trouble for this hole in the city's property, mister."

"But I didn't do it!"

"Oh no? Then you care to explain why you were engulfed in a miniature mushroom cloud seconds before I got here?" Mr. Turner paused mid-expression and sniffed. "What's that smell?"

Timmy froze. "Smell?"

His dad tapped the side of his mouth, deep in thought. "Yes, it smells just like a dirty diaper, only I don't see a baby."

Oh crud. Oh crud. Don't panic, just think. Use your brain. "Uh, I farted?"

Dad blinked in surprise. "Oh. OK, just don't tell your mother."

Timmy let out a breath of relief, "so son, what's that behind your back?" And inhaled hard enough to burn his throat. He couldn't hand Poof over to his Dad! Jorgen would kill him for exposing the existence of fairies to an adult.

Great, now what, Turner?

Run.

The word appeared so quickly in his mind it very nearly startled him into dropping his hands. He wasn't sure where it came from, but the idea of running was sticking to him like a melted band-aid on hair, so he assumed it was a good one. The only question now was, how? How was he to distract his dad long enough to get away?

"Hey, is that a green squirrel eating chocolate pudding?"

One day, Timmy figured, he would ask to meet Lady Luck and thank her for Cosmo's lack of intelligent design. One, two, three!

He blinked. Dad was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, nothing was in sight. He was in the middle of an empty field with a fairy baby. Alone. He brought Poof round and stared into his god-brother's big violet eyes.

"Poof, what did you do? Where are we? I didn't want to get away from everyone, just my dad. Take us back!"

His answer came in the form of a blink, a smile, and a final tell-tale grunt.

"Aw, man." Timmy cried, curling up his nose. Thrusting his head from side to side searching for a road, path, fox trail, anything other than just miles of gold stalks swaying with the wind, he finally sighed. "We're doomed."

Wanda screamed. Not only had her idiotic husband been foolish enough to conjure up a very large bowl of pudding, but her charges had vanished into the unknown in a cloud of untrained magic- all right in front of Timmy's dad. She felt some relief in that the adult human had the attention span of a kindergartner and turned away from the green, chocolate wielding squirrel on hearing the traditional "pop" made when a fairy vanished. It had given her enough time to grab Cosmo and "pop" away herself. Now, safe on the other side of the park, she was screaming, raving, and wild.

"But Wanda," Cosmo attempted, "I'm sure Poof is fine, he's with Timmy."

"With Timmy? With Timmy!" Wanda bellowed, knocking Cosmo behind his over sized bowl.

"Ah, don't yell, what has the pudding ever done to you?"

"What has the what?" Wanda rolled her gestures in exasperation. "Oh, never mind."

"Cheer up, Wanda, we'll find them."

The pink fairy pinched her eyes. "I know, Honey, and I'm sorry I yelled."

"Apology accepted!" He flew out to embrace her.

Wanda half smiled. "It's just Poof is a baby, Timmy's only eleven and."

"What?" Cosmo cut her off, digging his hands into her shoulders. "Timmy's only eleven? I thought he was older! He can't watch Poof all by himself, it's unhealthy. We have to find them, Wanda. We have to find our baby, and Timmy!"

"I know, I know."

"But how?" Cosmo cried. "They could be anywhere, Timmy has a great imagination and Poof hangs on his every word, together they're instoppable."

"Unstoppable."

"Huh?"

"You said 'instoppable', it's unstoppable."

"It is? I thought it was that guy from that show, you know the one."

Wanda groaned. "Cosmo, we have to think about where they might have gone."

"Well, I know if Timmy's dad were looking at me that way I would want to hide far, far away."

"Far, far away? How far away is that?"

"I don't know, Albuquerque, maybe."

"New Mexico?"

Cosmo lit up. "I've always wanted to be a cowboy."

Wanda shrugged. "Worth a shot, I guess."

"Yay, Albuquerque. Wanda you're the best."

"Thanks."

Timmy had been going in circles, he was sure of it, or at least partially sure. With endless fields of goldenrod on all sides it was hard to tell, but seeing how he just realized he'd been walking in a crop circle it was very possible. Worse yet, Poof refused to fly, float, or do anything other than cling to the front of his shirt, sporting a pained expression. Guessing the loaded diaper was the source of the problem, Timmy gazed down at the smaller boy.

"Can't you just magically whip up a fresh one?"

Poof's lip trembled. "Oh, no, Poof, no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Apologizing didn't help, the fairy baby burst into large, frightened tears as Timmy tried bouncing him as he had seen Wanda do on occasion.

"Everything will be fine, Poof, you're safe with me." A shadow fell on him just as he heard a very familiar voice call out.

"Huh?" He spun on his heel to see Wanda dashing towards him.

"Timmy, get down now!"

The fifth grader barely had time to think before Wanda crashed into him, knocking him and Poof to the ground. "Cosmo, I found them!"

In a literal flash, Cosmo appeared beside them, "Timmy. Wanda. Timmy. Poof. Pudding," collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Timmy turned to Wanda, who had yet to let him or Poof go. "What's with the adult size, Wanda? And why did you knock me down?"

Wanda shuddered. "Birds of prey."

"Birds of prey?"

"Fairy Vultures!" Came Cosmo's high pitched, girlish cry of fright from amongst the reeds.

"It's not a good idea to be an average fairy size in a place with overstuffed turkeys that can easily pluck you from the sky."

Timmy blinked, lost between terror and intrigue. "Where are we?"

Wanda winced. "Uh, Albuquerque."

"New Mexico?"

Cosmo laughed unevenly. "I wish, but you were here not there."

"Uh, what Cosmo's trying to say, Sport, is that yes this is Albuquerque, but not the one you're thinking of, and not the one we hoped you'd poof-ed to."

"Ok, Fairy Vultures, I get it. You're afraid, but why not just use your magic to zap them away? Self-defense is allowed, isn't it?"

"Sure it is." Cosmo answered. "It's just that Fairy Vultures are impervious to Fairy magic."

"And it's not just adult fairies they eat."

Timmy blanched. "So that shadow I saw was a, a."

"Fairy Vulture." Wanda finished.

"I want to go home now, please."

"Oh! You see Wanda, I told you Timmy had great ideas, that's his best one yet."

Wanda turned to her green eyed husband. "Is the coast clear?"

Timmy frowned. "Can't we just poof home?"

"Yes, and no."

"And that means what exactly?"

"It means," Cosmo started, peeking his head back down through the tall grass, "that yes we can, but magic attracts the Vultures and they're very, very, very fast."

"Then why didn't they get me and Poof when we arrived?"

Wanda crushed him and Poof to her chest as a dark shape passed overhead. "Luck."

"Yeah, for once you being short and prone to walking was a good thing. You blended in."

Peering out from under Wanda's arm, Timmy regarded both his god-parents with a sigh. "Then how are we going to get out of here?"

"I don't know, but I want my pudding."

Timmy paused. "Pudding? Cosmo that's it!"

"What's it?"

"I wish it would rain pudding all over Albuquerque!"

Wanda started. "Wouldn't actual rain be better?" She spoke too late. One clap of thunder and pudding fell from the sky in giant globs.

"Banana?" Wanda asked.

Cosmo shrugged. "Don't look at me."

Timmy hugged his oblivious brother. "Then yay, Poof!"

"Wanda, look at the Vultures!"

Following Cosmo's gaze, Wanda watched the massive birds in surprise. "They're confused, there's too much magic in the air. Nice going, Timmy, but next time try for rain."

"Rain-shmain, I just want to go home."

"And bathe," Wanda said sourly, as a particularly large glob landed on her head.

"Bathroom it is!"

Seconds after he spoke, Cosmo had flashed his wand, oblivious to the wide eyed expressions of alarm being thrown his way as the foursome disappeared, leaving hundreds of confused birds who didn't actually like banana flavored anything in their wake.


Hey, look, I kept my word and wrote my other idea! Go me. The downside is, I don't have any other shorts floating in this head of mine just yet, don't know if any more will come either. As much as I daydream though, I'll probably think of something. Just keep an eye out and thanks for reading and reviewing! Credit for the "two halves of a whole idiot" line go to Butch Hartman and his lot.

Those who read and don't review: boo.

Confused? Questions? Ask me! :)