"You know, things seem a bit quiet here." Timmy Turner's dad commented as he rubbed his chin, murmuring. "Too quiet... I better go check how Timmy is doing."

He then headed upstairs, to see that Vicky was farting on top of Timmy, with Timmy's dad blinking as he scratched the top of his head with his left hand.

"Err... Vicky, are you giving Timmy a face massage?" Timmy's Dad asked as he rubbed his chin with his right hand.

Vicky paused for a moment, then she let loose the strongest, deepest pitched, brassiest tuba like fart she could muster, sighing of relief as she smiled, wrapping her arms around the back of her head. "You could say something like that. Gives him charisma, confidence, and keeps him in check with the rules."

"...Cool!" Timmy's Dad stated as he gave a thumbs up to Vicky, leaving The Room (oh hai Mark) as Vicky kept on farting, with Timmy not being able to wish this entire predicament away, sadly for him.

THE REAL, ACTUAL, TRUE, HONEST END

SERIOUSLY