The Other Side
Thoughts are in italics.
Notes, clippings from papers, TV reports, notices etc are in bold.
Inspired by: Reflections Of My Life – FOP- goldfish078
Dedicated to: goldfish078
Disclaimer: I don't own FOP. I'm not repeating this. I also don't own the song 'Here On Earth (I'll Have My Cake) by Crash Test Dummies.
Some folks say that life is just a veil of tears
"Hope the floor's shining Twerp!" I cried at the buck toothed Timmy who was busy in the kitchen shining the floor, "I better see my face in it," I told him and them bit into another handful of Popcorn as I watched my favourite Soap Opera.
Not me man I can't pack enough into these years
I grinned to myself thinking of that twerp struggling to complete all the chores that I made him do. Not every fifteen year old can have her entire neighbourhood love and fear her at every interval. The boy's parents were a bunch of doops who thought that I was an angel from heaven and so did many of the other parents who let me baby sit their kids. Of course the kids knew what I was really like. Hell they'd have to since I make do all the work that their parents actually give me to do and also torture them in many creative and hurtful ways. But my favourite to torture was this kid Timmy Turner. Part of the reason that I tortured him more than the others was because he's too happy and he seems to have the perfect parents despite their unrelenting stupidity; especially the father. Also I hated little kids and finally I knew that my little sister liked him and since I liked torturing my sister, why not torture the one thing she loved most and I didn't even like (Timmy).
I don't care if it's spring summer winter or fall
Long as I have kids to torture my life is perfect. Don't matter the time or the season. Long as it keeps me away from home for as long as possible.
Make no fuss about the seasons, 'cause I like 'em all
"We're back!" I heard Mr. and Mrs. Turner shout merrily.
Finally, I can get my money and go about my business.
"We'll come into the house to see how hard our baby sitter as worked right after staring at this twig on the lawn for a whole minute," I heard Timmy's father say from outside.
"I'll join you," Mrs. Turner said happily.
Here on earth I'll have my cake
Damn it. I have to get Timmy out of the kitchen and make it seem like I was working.
I hurry to the kitchen to see Timmy on the floor fast asleep. The floor was shining like crystals and a noticed a pink bucket and green floor shiner with the same respective coloured eyes.
I picked up Timmy, hurried into the living room and placed him in the chair in front of the television. I then put the remote in his hand and was about to put it on Cartoon Network when I got a nasty idea.
His parents are going to ground him forever.
After I did my bit of mischief I hurried into the kitchen and quickly put away the cleaning supplies and rumpled my green shirt and red hair a bit to make it look like I was hurting hard.
Gonna eat it too, make no mistake
"We're home now Vicky," I heard Mrs. Turner say as the front door opened, "we'll pay you tons of money for taking care of our precious gift from ABOVE," she continued to speak happily but shrieked out the last word, "TIMMY!" she cried as I stifled a laugh, "what in the HELL are you WATCHING!" she demanded furiously.
"It can't be that bad...." Mr. Turner said and I listened as he too started to enter the house but noticed that he stopped talking, "TIMMY TURNER!" he cried in fury, "is this what you're watching while your perfect babysitter is toiling tirelessly in the....!" He demanded.
"Kitchen!" I cried not asking how he thought that I was still at work and that it was tireless.
"In the kitchen!" Mr. Turner added angrily, "wake up and receive your punishment!" he cried and I laughed softly to myself.
"Huh?" I heard Timmy whisper as he finally seemed to wake up, "Play Boy's Men on Men Action Special!" I heard him shriek and I had to cover my mouth and think about money to not burst out laughing.
"Where did I go wrong?" Mr. Turner demanded as I headed towards the living room, "I know that we didn't take you to church every time we went," he continued, "but at least you must've learned something in Sunday School."
"Unless he was thinking of this garbage!" Mrs. Turner cried furiously as I entered the room humming as if nothing had happened, "oh my goodness!" I cried pretending to shocked that Timmy was watching gay porn, "EWWWWWWWWWWW!" I then cried actually getting peek of it myself, "gross I don't need to see guys sucking each other!" I cried covering my red eyes.
"Turn that trash off!" Mr. Turner cried and I heard it turned off and peeked to see a very pale Timmy staring up at parents as his hand moved back from the off button.
"We're gonna have a serious talk about this son!" Mr. Turner cried furiously, "upstairs now!" he cried and pointed at the stairs.
"But...," Timmy started but didn't bother when his parents glared at him so hard smoke seemed fly out their ears, "yes Mom and Dad," he whispered and headed upstairs with his father in tow.
"I'm so sorry Vicky," Mrs. Turner said and I finally removed my hands fully from my eyes, "you must be distraught," she said and came over to comfort me.
"My parents aren't going to be...." I started to say knowing what would happen next.
"Here's ten times your pay!" Mrs. Turner cried and held out so much money that my eyes bugged out, "and a big bonus if you .. you know..."
"No one will hear from me," I told her as I took the money from her.
"Bye Vicky," Mrs. Turner said to me as I went out the door, "remember not to tell about our disgusting little boy who watched a certain form of bad programming!"
I'll put on my boots and go see what I can see
"Yes Mrs. Turner," I responded, "bye!" I cried then headed off to the twenty-four hour bank to deposit most of my ill-gotten gains.
(Four Hours Later at 11:45pm)
I stepped into my residence quietly. Usually I'd storm in and slam the door but today I wanted to hurry up to my room without being seen.
"Vicky?" I heard my mother ask timidly, "could you come to the kitchen?" she whispered.
"No I want to sleep!" I retorted angrily and started up the stairs.
"Please Vicky?" my mother asked again and I readied to curse her off, "I have a chocolate cake specially for you," she said and I turned around slightly interested, "and anything else you'd like," she added and I hurried into the kitchen.
But I stopped upon entering. Everything was a mess and then I saw my mother on the floor, broken plates littered around and on her as well as other broken items.
"He took Tootie and left," my mother told me, "I think he's taken her to the garage," she suggested, "he always takes her there to watch him tune up the car," she said her voice barely above a whisper.
"He's over by the Dinkleburg's," I told her, "I saw his car turn into their property after I left the Turner's," I stated.
"Probably to discuss the next set of drugs he'll deliver no doubt," my mother muttered, "who'd believe the Dinkleburg's as the Drug King Pin's of Dimmsdale?"
"No one believable," I muttered in response, "want some help?" I asked emotionlessly.
"Would you darling?" my mother asked happily and I went up to her and picked her up in my arms, "thank you," she said and I rolled my eyes, "I know how you feel about charity," she said to me, "all the stuff I've promised are in the fridge" she added as I carried her out to the living room and rested her on the sofa.
"At least he didn't slice you with the broken stuff this time," I muttered as I noticed that my mother only had a few showing cuts despite lots of bruises, "you can't go to work tomorrow," I pointed out.
"Oh no," my mother said, "some rest and makeup and I'll be fine by Monday," she said brightly and I almost wanted to gag.
"It's Monday Morning," I told her.
"You know the value of a dollar Vicky," my mother persisted.
"Whatever," I muttered almost angrily and left her, "I'm going to eat in the kitchen," I told her and went into the fridge and took out the chocolate cake, cheese cake, Orange Juice, Soda, and a pot of Chicken Soup that I'd warm up before drinking of course.
Death's Soulmate: Yes it's Parodic (made it up, deal with it). Review.