"Oh, Timmy? Guess what!" Dad said.
"You're going someplace stupid and leaving me with Vicky," timmy said dejectedly, mentally preparing himself for a night of torture.
"Wrong!" Dad said.
"Really?" Timmy asked. Then he was suspicious. "What's the catch?" There always was one, whenever he didn't have to be with Vicky. It was like fate would not let him shake her…
"We're going to the Annual Mother-Father-No-Kids-Allowed Barbeque, not to do something stupid," Dad said.
Oh, that's what he meant when he said "wrong." Then Timmy realized something: "Hey! Wait a second--you already went to one of those this year!" he exclaimed.
"Um…did we say 'Annual?'" Mom asked, caught in a lie. "What we meant to say was 'Semiannual.'"
"So you're going to this stupid thing and leaving me with Vicky," Timmy said flatly. It didn't really matter where they were going.
"Wrong again!" Dad said. (Timmy didn't dare get his hopes up, lest they be dashed again for the second time in as many minutes.) "We're leaving you at the Learnatorium."
"Well, how bad could that be?" Timmy asked rhetorically.
A pink flea hopped into his ear, whispering, "Timmy! Don't you remember the time you wished Vicky to Yugopotamia and had to go to the Learnatorium?"
Memories flooded his head. Unpleasant ones. "I mean, why isn't Vicky babysitting?" Timmy asked.
"Vicky quit," Mom said.
Timmy opened his mouth to protest. Then closed it. "You know, I'm trying, but I really can't think of anything bad to say about that. And I mean, I'm really trying, but…nothing. Ah, well; maybe the Learnatorium will be better this time. Regardless, I'm sure I'll find a way to deal with it."
ONE WEEK LATER
"I can't deal with this!" Timmy shouted in impotent fury. "These people are sucking out my soul! I! Cannot! Return! To! This! Place! I cannot return to this place."
"You don't really have a choice, Sport," Wanda said. Stating the obvious: "Vicky quit."
"I miss Vicky," Timmy sighed. "Yeah, she was evil, but at least she was…interesting, exciting, something like that. Like the time she dressed me in a maid outfit and clean her house." He chuckled. "Good times." Timmy did a sudden double-take and stared at Wanda and Cosmo, horrified. If words could hurt, he would have just committed seppuku. "Did I just say what I think I just said?" He didn't shout that question, mainly because he couldn't get enough breath to say it as more than a whisper.
"I don't know. Do you think you were just reminiscing fondly about Vicky and all the evil things she used to do to you?" Cosmo asked.
"Dear God! This place really is turning my brains to mush!" Timmy said, overdramatic and forlorn at the same time.
"Really?" Cosmo asked. "It's not having any effect on me."
"We have to make Vicky start babysitting again," Timmy said, adding silently before I start singing her praises. "I wish we were at Vicky's house!" and then they were. Timmy walked up to the door. "Um…I can't reach the door bell."
The door flew open. "Timmy!" Tootie shouted gleefully. "That's odd. My Timmy-Tracker said you were at the Learnatorium."
"Timmy-Tracker…?" he asked uncertainly.
"Ah, well, let's go up stairs to my trap--I mean, to my room, and play…(um, let's see, what games do boys like to play?)…dolls," Tootie said slyly.
"Um, I have a restraining order, Tootie," Timmy showed her the document. "Besides, I'm here to talk to Vicky."
"She's in the kitchen," Tootie said, suddenly a whole lot less enthusiastic. "She's really down. All she does is mope. She hasn't given me a swirly in days. At first it was great, but now I'm scared."
Timmy went to the kitchen. Vicky was at the table, hunched over a cup of something. "Vicky?" Timmy asked.
Vicky looked up, her eyes were bloodshot. "What are you doing here, twerp?" She sounded so…forlorn. Timmy's heart caught, but then he remembered that this was Vicky he was talking about, and his heart was quick-frozen.
"Believe it or not, I'm here to beg you to come back to babysitting," Timmy said, not really believing it himself.
Vicky's eyes returned to her drink. She shook her head. "I can't."
"Why not?" Timmy asked.
"I'm…well, I'm a bad person, Timmy," Vicky said hopelessly.
"Oh, is that all this is about?" Timmy asked, relieved. "I hate to break it to you, but I already knew that."
"No, I mean really bad," Vicky said, ignoring him.
"Two weeks ago, you made me, Chester, and AJ work in a sweatshop with nineteen other neighborhood kids you were 'babysitting.' Elmer suffered heatstroke. Trust me, Vicky; I know that you're evil. But the thing is, every time you stop working Mom and Dad find someone worse," Timmy said. It was almost like fate would not let them part ways, and this wasn't the first time he had had that thought.
"Yeah, that was fun," Vicky said, reminiscing. "Seriously, though, you have no idea of what I'm talking about. I want to do…things…to you, Timmy. Dark things, evil things."
"Look, even if you hate me, that has nev--"
"Hate you? I wish. That would be alright. Hatred is a clean emotion, pure and uncomplicated. No, I don't hate you. What I feel is dirty and vile and disgusting and…just…sick and wrong. Yes, sick and wrong. Part of me always knew, and I hated myself for it. I took it out on you…"
"I don't understand," Timmy said.
"Good," Vicky said.
"Timmy, I think we had better go," Wanda said, a flea in his ear.
"What are you talking about?" Timmy asked both of them.
"Don't ask," Vicky said.
"I am asking, and I wish you would give me a straight answer," Timmy said.
"Timmy--" Wanda started to protest.
"Do it," Timmy ordered under his breath. Wanda, sighing, followed orders.
Vicky glared at him. "Do you really want to know, twerp?" Suddenly, Timmy wasn't sure that he did, but it was too late now. He had opened his mouth, made his wish, and now the die was cast. "Tootie, go play in traffic, or something."
"But--" Tootie protested lamely.
"Just get out of my sight, you annoyance," Vicky ordered. "I need to be…alone with Timmy." Tootie ran off. Neither her nor Timmy liked the way she said those last words, like a torturer who really enjoyed her work. If either of them had been older, there would have been a few other things they could have compared the tone to. Vicky picked Timmy up and held him at eye-level with her. "Are you scared yet, Twerp?"
"Y-yes," Timmy said, wishing even harder that he hadn't of been so stubborn.
"Good," and then she kissed him. On the mouth. Very forcefully, like she was trying to eat him. She forced her tongue into his mouth, and Timmy went into shock. Vicky drew it out as long as she could, savoring what was in her mind the one and only kiss she would ever have with her heart's desire. When she finally broke off, she said, "You understand now, Twerp?"
"I…I…" he looked Vicky in the eye, "I think I'm going to be sick."
"You know where the bathroom is," Vicky said, putting him down and returning to her cup.
Timmy ran to the bathroom and puked in the toilet. Cosmo and Wanda pooffed back into their normal forms.
"Tell me something, and be honest…" he said, voice calm so far ("so far" being the operative term), "…why do I attract psychos!" Timmy shrieked, washing the vomit from his mouth.
"Are you alright, sport?" Wanda asked sympathetically.
"I'll live," Timmy said reassuringly. "Although, I am very, very, very confused."
"I understand," Wanda said.
"So am I, but then again, I'm always confused," Cosmo said.
Timmy sighed, exasperated. "Let's just go back to the Learnatorium, okay?"
"Timmy, we can't help but notice that you aren't really playing with the other kids," said Gary.
"I have a lot to think about," Timmy said dismissively.
"Normally we would respect your wishes and leave you alone," Sally said, "but you're ten. What could you possibly have to think about? Come and play--"
The door opened, and Timmy's parents came in."
"Timmy! It's us!" Dad said.
"We came to take you away from this hel--I mean, this fun and educational facility and take you home with us," Mom said.
"Saved by the bell," Timmy said, relieved.
"Wanda, what do you think about this whole…Vicky situation?" Timmy asked. "I need to talk to somebody, and I can't talk to Mom because she'll call the cops on her…and ironically, I don't want that to happen for once."
"Timmy, my opinion may not be all that relevant," Wanda said.
"Why not?" Timmy asked.
"I have lived for tens of thousands of years. I have seen everything that you humans hold dear be as transmutable as water. The age of consent, right and wrong, the definition of marriage, even the concept of what human nature is, all of these things are as mutable as water with you people, always changing, never the same two centuries in a row, and rarely two decades. Every day, it seems, there is something new and different, and what was the day before is no longer right, is now wrong and evil and idiotic. What I'm saying is, I don't know what you should do. How can I, when the norm is always shifting and never normal?" Wanda said.
"Wanda? I'm ten. I didn't catch a word of that," Timmy said.
"I said, I don't know what you should do," Wanda said.
"So it's all up to me, then? Great," Timmy said, his tone saying that it was anything but "great." He sighed. "God, Buddha, whoever, somebody give me a sign!"
Cosmo and Wanda disappeared as Sally appeared. "Timmy? You're still not playing with the other kids. But that can wait; now it's time for soy-cube snacks!"
"Um, I have to, um, go to the bathroom," Timmy said. He ran into the bathroom, and Cosmo and Wanda reappeared. He locked the door. "If that is not a sign, I don't know what is. I wish we were at Vicky's house!" and then they were. "Where's--"
The door flew open. "Timmy!" Tootie shouted. "I thought I heard you! I'm going to--"
"Restraining order," Timmy was quick to remind her. "Where's Vicky?"
"Up in her room," Tootie said. "She hasn't gotten any better. Believe it or not, I'm actually worried about her."
Timmy nodded. "I think I understand," and, believe it or not, he did. He went up to Vicky's room and knocked on the door. Then he went in, closing the door behind him. He suddenly realized that this was the first time he had ever entered a room with Vicky and done that; usually, he wanted any witnesses he could possibly get when he was alone with Vicky. Oh, how things have changed!
"What do you want, twerp? Let me guess: the police are coming, and you want to be here to see them take me away," said Vicky.
"Well, that has been a fantasy of mine for several years," he said, "but no. What I want to say is…God, I wish I had the words…" there was a pooffing sound, "…vocabulary, I mean. Alright, that'll do; here goes:
"Look, Vicky, the thing is that yes, that is perverted and wrong and…everything else you said, but compared to the cruel and inhumane things you have made me do in the past, it's not all that traumatic. Remember making me dig my own grave all those times? If you need to start having a conscience and feeling guilty about something, it should be that, not something you haven't even done yet. If you're worried about society's standards…no, you've always struck me as something of a sociopath." Suddenly he knew what a sociopath was. Oh, yeah; that was Vicky to a tee. Wait: what did "to a tee" mean?
Timmy paused. This was the point of no return. If he continued with his speech, he was making a commitment to this choice. He just hoped it was the right one. He took a breath; now or never. "Besides, and maybe my brain is rotted from the Learnatorium, or maybe I'm delusional after going two weeks without your…care, or maybe--"
"I get the idea, Timmy."
"No, you don't. Let me finish, okay? Where was I? Oh, yeah: or maybe It's the fact that I have no strong male role models, and no decent ones either, excepting my dad and Cosmo, not that there's anything wrong with either of them; it's just--"
"Who?" Vicky asked.
"No one important," Timmy said quickly. "As I was saying: or maybe it's that many of your tortures incorporate pseudo-femdom qualities, --" another new word! Nd this one was full of…possibilities.
"Oh my god! You noticed! Wait: how do you even know what that means?"
"Can I please finish here? I don't know how long this stroke of inspiration will last," Timmy said. "…but for some reason, the idea of you and me…you know, being together…doesn't really disturb or disgust me, now that the initial shock is gone and I have had some time to think about it."
Vicky stared at him like he suddenly sprouted a second head. "What?"
"I'm not repeating myself! That speech took forever," Timmy said.
"Come over here," Vicky said.
Timmy sat on her bed. She kissed him, open mouth, lots of tongue. Then she looked into his eyes. "Well?"
"Not nauseated at all," Timmy said. Good news.
"Maybe I will go back to babysitting," Vicky said, smiling down at him.
"Great! Um…you aren't still going to be evil, are you?"
"I don't know...am I still Vicky?" said Vicky sarcastically. "It's a different kind of evil, though."
"The 'evil' attraction to me? I think I can handle that," Timmy said.
"Oh? Prove it," Vicky said.
"How?" Timmy asked.
"Let's go downstairs," Vicky said. They met Tootie in the hallway. "Go watch a movie, or something. Here's ten bucks, just don't come back until late."
Tootie took the money and ran off, recognizing as if by shear aura that the old Vicky was back. Vicky led Timmy to the living room and drew all the curtains.
"So, um, what are we doing?" Timmy asked.
"We're going to watch a movie together," Vicky said.
"That's all?" Timmy asked.
"And you're going to sit in my lap, and we are going to cuddle," Vicky said. "If you can handle that, we will move on to other things."
Vicky sat in the recliner, Timmy sat in her lap, she wrapped her arms around him, and Vicky played with the remote. They snuggled together, and Timmy would never later remember what was on, but he remembered feeling content.
"I hope we can do this a lot from now on," Timmy said.
"That is one wish that will be easy to grant," Vicky said.
"Huh?" Timmy asked, hoping that her choice of words were mere coincidence.
"There aren't a whole lot of places where we can go as a couple. People will raise eyebrows. And call the cops. We'll be doing stuff like this a lot, Timmy," Vicky said.
Timmy breathed a sigh of relief. "Too bad you can't baby-sit every day."
"That can be arranged," Vicky said.
"I like this; this is nice," Timmy said.
"Just remember who wears the pants," Vicky threatened.
"But…we both wear pants," Timmy pointed out, confused.
Vicky laughed. "So naive. No, what I mean is, remember who's in charge."
"It will be pretty hard to forget," Timmy said happily. Then not-so-happily: "Uh-oh."
"What?" Vicky asked, worried. Was someone coming?"
"I'm supposed to be at the Learnatorium," Timmy said. "Gary and Betty think I'm in the bathroom." They stared at each other for a good five seconds. "Screw it. I hope no one has to go to the bathroom."
"Atta boy," Vicky said approvingly.
"Gary and Betty said that you were in the bathroom for three hours. Are you alright, Timmy?" asked Mom.
"Never better," Timmy said, smiling to himself.
"Vicky called, and said she wants to start babysitting you again," Dad said.
"On a totally unrelated note that couldn't possibly be related to Vicky babysitting you again, an anonymous stranger sent us two Brittany Brittany tickets and a note that specifically said that you weren't invited, so we're leaving you with Vicky," Mom said.
"It sounds suspicious, but who cares? It's free!" Dad said.
The door opened. "Good luck, Mr. and Mrs. Turner!" Vicky said. They left, closing the door behind them. "Hey, Twerp, I have a present for you." She dug around her pack, pulling out a heart-shaped box of chocolates. "We can eat it while we watch corny movies; we just have to remember to get rid of the evidence."
"Sounds fun," Timmy said. "What's the occasion?"
"We are," Vicky said. "I'm not lying to myself anymore, and we can be happy together. At least, until you grow up and tell the cops I molested you as a child."
"That won't happen, Vicky," Timmy said.
"We'll see," Vicky said. "Until then, I'm just going to try to enjoy myself, and worry about the consequences of molesting you later."
"You haven't molested me yet," Timmy protested.
"Well, what do you expect? It's just the beginning of the first date," Vicky said. "You're going to have to wait until at least, mm, let's say, the end of the first date."
Author's Commentary (As If You Care)
The Phoenix has been reborn from its ashes! Well, alright, this story was never gone (that would be Humidity), but it has been revamped. I was reading though the story, because one Death's Soulmate suggested (after months of my pleading for a name for this story) that it be called "A Dark Secret" (or "Tell Me Your Dark Secret," which I pretty much dismissed out of hand) and I wanted to see of this title fit the story (I wanted to see if this story was "A Dark Secret-y" if you will). While I was reading it, I decided that it could be revamped. There wasn't anything wrong with the way it was (I like to think that I don't put inferior products on the market), but it could have been more refined, could have been more detailed (detail is my Achilles' Heel as a writer, as it were--not that it matters in fan fiction; everyone already knows all the characters).
Anyway, after rereading this story, which was formerly untitled, I decided that, while it was dark, it was also funny. It was darkly funny, as it were. That's why I named this story Comédie Noir, which is French for "Black Comedy." (Actually, I had to look "Comédie" up on the internet; I only knew that I wanted "Noir" in the title, and having one title written in a different language every word…not cool.) I have meant to write more Timmy/Vicky stories than I have, but it somehow just never happened.
Still, if you liked this story, you should also read Humidity (while it's still here; never know when the admins might delete it again), My Sick Little World, and The Truth About Prince Charming. Ah, yes, what is an author's commentary without shameless plugging. Seriously, though, read them.
Those three stories and this one are sort of related; you'll notice that I never explained in either Humidity or The Truth About Prince Charming how it was, exactly, that Timmy and Vicky got together. Perhaps it happened a little like this? Also, any real sequel would have ruined the end of My Sick Little World, so I smudge a little on the details--maybe intentionally, maybe not--and I call it unrelated. I call this odd formation of stories a not-series (like Trixie Tang is Timmy's "not-girlfriend"), and essentially what I am doing is I'm having my cake and eating it, too. I have the advantage of a serial backing (not having to explain things that weren't in the canon, being able to bring prestige to other stories of mine by mentioning a relationship between them and my current hit), and yet I can also write in a wholly different style or ignoring details that would be inconvenient to the current work.
For example, the story that I am working on now, called The Unicorn Problem (I'll give you three guesses as to what it's about, and the first two don't count--and no, it's not unicorns) (don't hold your breath waiting for it; I've been "writing" it on and off for months now; title subject to change) that takes place between this one and The Truth About Prince Charming. In it, Timmy is still a virgin, but in every work to date (except for The Truth About Prince Charming, which doesn't say, and My Sick Little World, which doesn't even tell you if they hook up (but you know they would if they did in that one, so it doesn't count)) Timmy and Vicky shack up immediately after they hook up, or at least that is the implication. Behold, the genius of the not-series: that doesn't matter! People just assume that it went like in the other stories except where I say it didn't. The wounds in continuity heal themselves.
In case you care--and I know that you don't--the original Author's Commentary is below. Enjoy, if that is your thing. Regardless, thanks for reading, hoped you enjoyed it, and please R&R. My fragile ego depends on your constant singing of my praises.
Author's Commentary (As If You Care)
Writing "As If You Care" after "Author's Commentary" has become a quick tradition of mine, in spite of whether or not you should care. Huh. Ah, well:
Here it is: my second published contribution to the pocket of stories dedicated to the Vicky/Timmy romantic relationship. (It will grow even if I have to force it to grow myself! Actually, I hope I don't have to do that, because I've only got one more in my notebook.) This was the third of these written in my notebook (tenth in number of total stories), Humidity (as it is now known) was the second (seventh), and the first (fourth) remains unpublished. I tell you this so that you can understand that even though both this and Humidity have been literally on paper since 2005, it wasn't until just now that I realized that this could have been a prequel to Humidity.
I thought to myself, "Hey: I wonder if this could be in any way related to my other work?" Obviously that would mean prequel, since in this one they start dating and in that one they are dating. I think about it, and it begins to look good. The only snag I could think of was possibly before Timmy and Vicky have sex. Humidity being what it is, nothing is said outright, but Humidity again being what it is, it is obvious that that is there second date. And that's when I realized that this could not be Humidity's prequel. This is the actual caption in which we find out that Humidity is the second date:
Timmy (hopefully): "You're going someplace stupid and leaving me with Vicky?"/Mom: "Say, don't you usually say that with more dread?"/Timmy (lamely): "Um, no."/Mom: "No, as I recall, the last time we left you with Vicky, you said," (switch to Timmy's voice, frightened) "'No, don't leave me with Vicky, I'm begging you! She's evil and she's going to kill me.'"
Obviously, Timmy didn't say, "No, don't leave me with Vicky, I'm begging you! She's evil and she's going to kill me," at when his parents left him with Vicky at the end of this fic, nor would he have, and I can't change Humidity now (technically I could, and I have in the past, but I don't feel like it), so we're stuck like this. Ah, well; this wasn't meant to be a prequel, anyway. The two stories have totally different feels to them, and a series should have a sense of same-ness to it (or at least all the series I've read). Ironically, the passage I was worried about didn't pose any trouble at all:
Dad's voice (from off stage, seeming distant, to Vicky): "Make sure he doesn't leave his room for the rest of the night."/Vicky (slyly): "I think I can think of something that will keep him there." (to Timmy) " 'Where do babies come from?' eh?"/Timmy (shrugs): "Hey, it worked."/Vicky: "But you do know where babies come from, right?"/Timmy: "Um, duh."/Vicky: "Good. Let's go practice."
I even got so far as to start typing "A prequel to Humidity? You decide. It is certainly possible…" and list some reasons that it was possible before I realized that it was in fact impossible. I tell you this because this is the commentary and thus the proper place to write inane crap like that. No, I actually thought you might find it interesting (which explains why I have no friends).
I was literally up all night writing this, but also only one night. It helps that it was already written in my notebook, but still. It is now 6:00AM (it won't be when I publish this; heck I'd be lucky if it's even today when I publish it), and I'm thinking about going to bed soon.