A/N: Alright, here it is: the much-requested follow-up chapter. Now, I had no planning papers for this, dumbly deciding to just go for it, so be warned. Also, it was finished at 4:49 am. Still, hope you enjoy. A/N
"Hiya, folks! Narrator here, just back from vacation in the Bahamas," a perky voice greeted, "Oh man, was it great. Y'know a voice can really get a tan in a place like that…oh, but wait, you're probably more interested in why we're zooming into a shot of the prison, aren't you? Well, fine. The Whammer's, ahem, over-zealous love confession during our last episode has left some rather awkward tension amongst these two villainous cellmates. I wasn't really here for that, so I don't know why, but hey, let's see where it goes anyway."
The shot had faded in to show Chuck and The Whammer sitting in their bunks at opposite ends of their shared cell. Chuck seemed to be pouting with his arms folded and refusing to look at The Whammer. Whammer twiddled his thumbs guiltily, glancing over at Chuck every few seconds to see if it was any safer to talk to him.
Chuck's mood seemed unwavering, but The Whammer felt he had to say something, and eventually settled on, "…sorry."
"Zip it," groused Chuck, hunching further and still not looking at him.
"Aww, come on, Chuckie..!" Whammer pleaded, "How was I supposed to know? You said you liked The Whammer, yeah, and wanted to be partners!"
"In crime. Partners in crime. As in we steal stuff together and fight Word Girl," Chuck elaborated, "I said I was starting to like you, and I did not, say you could kiss me! At all!"
The Narrator cut in, surprised, "Woah, wait; Whammer, you actually kissed Chuck? A little forward, don't you think?"
Whammer blinked. "Forward? He was totally whammin' for it, all whammin' me on and stuff…yeah!"
Chuck scoffed. "I so was not! You just take everything to mean what you want it to." Then he sighed and pinched his nose. "Alright look, I'm sorry if I said anything that sounded even remotely misleading, but I am most definitely not ready to be kissing anybody. That's way too…intimate."
He moved to hug himself shyly, turning so his slight blush wouldn't be seen.
One of The Whammer's eyebrows lowered in confusion. "The Whammer does not understand Chuckie's problems with affection."
"No, I didn't expect you would, Mr. Grabby," Chuck answered, replacing shyness with sarcasm, "But here's the deal: I don't like being smothered, and I don't know if I like you enough to call us anything but a business relationship, so if you want any hope of possibly boosting that status, lay off the zeal, ok?"
The Whammer looked as though he was going to pose a question, but at that moment, a smiling orange-haired prison guard walked up to the cell door, distracting them both.
"Good news, Chuck," she informed, "Your mother just paid your bail, so you're free to go!" She took a ring of keys from her belt and unlocked the door.
Chuck sat at attention, beaming. "No way, really?"
"Yup," confirmed the guard, "Sorry to have to break you two up, but the paperwork's just cleared to confirm it."
"Alright! Thanks, Ma!" Chuck cheered and got up to leave eagerly. As he left, The Whammer's face saddened and he blew the departing party a kiss.
Chuck tried to look indignant, but the forming blush kind of ruined it.
"Awww, you guys are so cute," the guard gushed as she re-locked the door and went to escort Chuck from the station.
"No we're not..!" Chuck argued, flustering even more.
"Wow, guess I really missed something, huh?" The Narrator narrated into the next scene, "But no time to fill me in, I guess, because meanwhile, Becky Botsford is having a nice, quiet morning breakfast with her family."
"Gimme that toy prize! I saw it first!" yelled TJ, pulling at a bowl of cereal in front of a box with a picture of Pretty Princess splashed across it.
Becky yanked back. "But you already have the special edition Count Cloudy with Built-In Factory Error!"
"So?" argued TJ, "I need two of everything: one for owning and one for selling. They go for big bucks on the underground cereal market."
The Narrator sighed, "Ok, maybe not so nice and quiet after all. Thanks for ruining my setup, guys…"
The family paid him no mind, and Mrs. Botsford lowered her eyebrows impatiently. "Alright you two," she with authority, "Enough of this tiff..! What's the rule about prizes in cereal boxes?"
The kids exhaled heavily and recited, "Whomever's bowl the prize falls into gets it."
"But it's not fair!" Becky argued, "I need that figure to complete the set..!"
"Would you rather I took it?" she offered.
A huff met this. "No…" She glowered while TJ stuck his tongue out and waved the milk-drenched toy in gloating victory.
"Well alright then," she patted one of the arms her daughter had buried her head in, "Maybe you'll get lucky next time. You are getting more cereal today, right dear?"
This last statement was directed to her husband sitting at the other end of the table with a newspaper shielding him from view. He remained motionless, appearing not to hear.
"Dear..?" questioned Mrs. Botsford.
Bob, who was sitting next to Mr. Botsford, gave him a poke or two. The man's arms slipped heavily off the table, causing the newspaper to flutter away and land in front of Becky, also revealing that Mr. Botsford was fast asleep.
"Oh my, looks like your father stayed up too late making sandwich pick art," deduced Mrs. Botsford, "Don't worry, Becky, I'll pick up some cereal later."
Becky had forgotten about wanting cereal, and was more interested in the article that had floated to a stop in front of her. A black and white photo depicted Chuck the Evil Sandwich Making Guy skipping elatedly out of prison as he waved goodbye to the smiling officers.
"Chuck's out of prison?" Becky mumbled to herself. Suddenly she registered what her mother had said, and with urgency inquired, "Wait! Dad was making art with sandwich picks? What for?"
"Well for the contest, silly..!" Mrs. Botsford informed with a flip of her wrist, "The park's having one just for the heck of it. All you do is make a sculpture out of those cute little pokey things with the pretty paper, and you can win as many sandwiches as the number of picks you used..!"
TJ scoffed. "Yeah, Becky, where have you been? Dad's only been going on about it for two weeks. Didn't you wonder at all why he kept asking us to pose for him? And didn't you notice that weird family portrait sculpture on the lawn?"
Becky looked around him to see out the window and was indeed met with the mostly-built backs of the Botsford family holding hands, represented in colorful cellophane and wood.
"Huh," was all she could come up with, "Well anyway, I should probably go…do something. Outside. Kids do that sort of thing on weekends."
"Not me," TJ folded his arms, "I want to stay in and play video games all day."
"Have fun, Becky!" Mrs. Botsford called with a little wave as Becky rushed out the door carrying Bob, "TJ, you can help me wake your father, and then help him finish his sculpture."
"Now flying above the city, Word Girl and Captain Huggyface are going to make sure the newly-released Chuck doesn't get any funny ideas about today's contest. Boy, I sure hope not; I entered a really great piece, and I don't want anything happening to it…"
Huggy squeaked oddly at that.
"Yeah, you made a sculpture?" agreed Word Girl, "How's that even possible? You're just a voice."
"How do I do anything when I interact with you guys?" countered the narrator, "Just try not to think about it."
"Ok…" Word Girl shrugged it off and turned to her sidekick. "Anyway, Huggy, let's check the park. If Chuck's going to cause any trouble today, he'll definitely be there to do it."
Huggy chirped an affirmative, and they swooped off.
The park was bustling, Word Girl observed, every square foot filled with stalls and booths that presented art projects of all shapes and size. Good guys and bad guys alike had entered the contest, it seemed. The grocery store manager, for instance, had set up his sculpture of a giant cheese wheel next to Dr. Two-Brains' model of his mouse blimp. They were the only ones causing a disturbance of any level.
"Stop trying to eat my entry..!" the manager groused, swatting Two-Brains' hands away from the thing.
"Ohh, I can't help it..!" whined the doctor, drooling, "It looks so yellow and cheesy!"
"Thank you," huffed the manager, "But that still doesn't give you reason to consume my craft."
Word Girl flew over. "I noticed you were having a tiff over here," she said on arrival, "Anything I can help with?"
"He keeps trying to eat my cheese wheel!" accused the manager, holding off Two-Brains at arm's length.
Word Girl's face shifted. "You know it's not real, right?" she asked of Two-Brains.
"Oh, sure," he answered, "But it's cheese, darn it! That's my whole thing, y'know: mice, cheese. I mean the only reason I'm even entering this contest is so that if I win, I can request that when they make all the sandwiches, they're cheese. It doesn't matter what the cheese is. Plus I have super gnawing abilities and can eat stuff like toothpicks, remember?"
"Yeah, ok, I guess that works," nodded Word Girl, "So why can't you just move your stations?"
"Assigned places," Two-Brains told her flatly, he and the manager showing her the numbers clipped to their shirts.
"Oh. Well ok, um…" she looked around and spied some extra tables folded up in a pile. Quickly, she grabbed one and came back and jammed it into the middle of the one the two were at.
"Tiff resolved!" she declared as they flinched at the sudden cleaving.
The store manager then perked, "Saaay, not a bad idea, Word Girl. Now Dr. Two-Brains can't see my cheese wheel and won't bother me!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, great," Two-Brains rolled his eyes. Word Girl looked at him and recalled something.
"Hey, you're a villain," she started, "You don't know where Chuck might be if he were to come, I dunno, destroy this contest or anything, do you?"
Two-Brains pointed behind her. "Isn't that him signing in over there at the sign-in station?"
Word Girl turned around and blushed in silence for a few seconds. "Um, yeah. Ok, thanks."
In a flash, she was gone. Two-Brains rolled his eyes again before giving a couple of innocent sniffs for the cheese wheel he knew was in the manager's space.
Word Girl, meanwhile, had flashed suddenly in front of Chuck, surprising him as he was walking away from sign-in.
"Dwaah! Word Girl!" he cried while cringing.
"And Captain Huggyface!" Word Girl included, indicating to her up-to-now-un-needed sidekick, "We're here to stop whatever plans you have for destroying this contest!"
Huggy screeched in agreement as the two of them assumed karate poses.
Chuck waved his arms negatively. "No, no, you've got it all wrong!" he corrected frantically, "I don't want to do anything to this contest! I'm just here to enjoy it, honest!"
Word Girl and Huggy blinked, laxing. "R-really? You sure you don't want to steal all the prize sandwiches or something?"
"Uh-uh," Chuck shook his head, "I'm here strictly as a connoisseur of sandwich-related art mediums. I just got out on bail, and I don't wanna disappoint my ma by going right back in again."
Word Girl tilted her head. "Your mom bailed you out? Well that was nice of her. What made her decide to let you get out early this time?"
Chuck's eyes shifted. "No reason. I'm her son, she loves me."
Huggy raised an eyebrow to Word Girl, who wagged a thoughtful finger as something occurred to her. "Waaaait, this doesn't have anything to do with The Whammer, does it?"
Instantly Chuck became defensive. "What? No! Why would it? I mean…no!"
"Oh, come on," Word Girl scoffed, "A big huge sandwich contest on the day you happen to get out early on bail, and you don't want to risk doing anything? You're avoiding him, aren't you?"
Chuck deflated in annoyance. "Fine, alright, yes. I wrote Ma every day begging for her to get me out because he ended up being my cellmate. It was a little awkward, y'know?"
"Did you tiff?" she asked curiously.
"That depends on what 'tiff' means…" Chuck returned warily. Huggy nodded.
"A tiff is just a petty quarrel or fight between two people who know each other," Word Girl defined, "For example: I broke up a tiff over there between Dr. Two-Brains and that grocery store manager he robs so often."
Chuck looked to where she pointed. "I see. Then I guess you could say we had a bit of a tiff, over whether or not a certain something he did was ok…" He folded his arms bitterly.
Suddenly a thought came to him. "Hey, wait, why do you care what happened? I thought you were all appalled by it." Huggy looked as though remembering this detail, too, and gave a demanding squeak.
Word Girl shrugged to them both guiltily. "While it's true that I normally am against romance on the show, I can't really do anything about it, so I might as well accept it. Besides, once you think about it, it's just…so cuuuute..!" Here she gripped her cheeks and wiggled a little. "I mean he really loves you so much and follows you around like a big lost puppy..!"
Chuck blanched at this. "Arrg, why does everyone say that? All the police said the exact same thing! It's not cute! We're not a couple!"
"No?" wondered Word Girl, "I thought for sure you would've…ah well. If you're not doing anything evil today, I guess I can leave you alone. See ye, Chuck!" She picked up Captain Huggyface and started to float away.
"Yeah, see ya," he grumbled in acknowledgement. As he watched them go, he started walking again, although his mood had fallen.
"Why does everyone always think The Whammer and I are together?" he talked to himself as he simultaneously perused the art, giving comment to the owners, "It's always 'partners' this or 'boyfriends' that. Do I really-ooo, that's a nice piece-give that sort of vibe? I know I sorta like him, well enough-I like your sculpture-but love the guy? Can't be. He's so…loud, a-and obnoxious..! And…and…"
He stopped, a hand going to his overwhelmed head as he remembered all of his time with The Whammer. All of the begging and jumping and needless, energetic wreckage, but not unfondly, rather noticing how everything was done with an over-zealous need for approval. Softening, Chuck finished his earlier sentence. "…totally a lost puppy. He…only ever wanted to please me. He never wanted to be in charge or anything, he just got carried away tryin' to prove himself. That's…more cute than anything else, actually. And kinda makes me feel sorry for him. I've always been such a jerk, just yelling and stuff."
His eyes widened and he clutched his cheeks. "Oh no, am I just fighting him because I'm intimidated? Do I really-"
He caught sight of a little girl staring at him in bafflement. He glanced around, not having realized how loud he was getting.
"Uh, hi." He waved timidly, then darted off to go hide.
As one of the on-lookers, Dr. Two-Brains turned to the grocery store manager, saying flatly, pick in mouth and hand on hip, "I dunno about you, but I'm getting so tired of Chuck and Whammer's little 'will-they-or-won't-they' bit. They should just go at it and get it over with, am I right?"
The manager nodded, his own arms folded before noting in accusation, "Hey, is that one of my picks you're eating?"
Back at the prison, The Whammer was moping around in his cell, swinging one leg over the side of his bunk while staring at a newspaper clipping. It was the only way he could get a picture of Chuck.
"Oh, Chuckie, The Whammer misses you, yeah," he told the paper, "He wishes you hadn't left before you let him apologize." A few moments of silence passed while he ripped the edges of the clipping to form a crude valentine.
"…Hey, creepy voice that sometimes shows up places, you there?"
The Narrator stirred. "Huh, what? You mean me?"
"Yeah, you," returned The Whammer, "What do you think The Whammer should do? He needs to make things right somehow."
"Gosh, well, I'm flattered," said the narrator, and sounded it, "Nobody ever asks for my opinion. But there's not much you can do from there. You're in jail."
The Whammer glanced to the surrounding walls before slumping to look at his hands once more. Then he straightened up, raising his hands in realization. He smacked his forehead with one of them.
"Duh! Why didn't The Whammer see it before, wham?"
The Narrator was confused. "See what now?"
"It's just like you said, creepy voice man! The Whammer's in jail. He needs to be out of jail," he stood readily, "And they forgot to mute The Whammer's whams, yeah, so all I gotta do is…whaaaaam!"
A sonic blast shook the building as two fists slammed together, blasting the back wall of The Whammer's cell clean off. Now pumped, The Whammer ran cheering through the rubble with alarms blaring all around.
"Well now, aren't I embarrassed?" chuckled The Narrator, "Um, if anyone asks, I never spoke with him. And I'm not creepy."
The Narrator cleared his throat. "So, uh, moving on, Becky and Bob have decided that since there's no danger from Chuck, to assist the family in moving Mr. Botsford's sandwich pick sculpture to its place in the contest."
Becky looked up from her spot around the life-sized sculpture's base. It was light, but delicate. "Oh, hi Narrator. Where've you been?"
"Oh, you know, around…" he said with a vague innocence.
"Oo! Careful Becky..!" warned Mr. Botsford, "That glue isn't quite dried yet, so really watch where you're going."
"Sorry Dad," Becky said, and switched her attention back to getting the piece to its table in one piece. Once they managed to find the table and get the thing in place, they stood back to admire it.
Becky's head tilted appreciatively. "Wow, y'know, this is actually pretty good."
TJ nodded. "Yeah, it looks just like us. If…we were made of floofy paper."
"Good job, honey." Mrs. Botsford praised, hugging her husband.
"Gosh, what a supportive family," beamed Mr. Botsford, "And just think, if I win, we'll get two hundred and fifty four thousand nine hundred and three sandwiches!"
The family looked at each other unsurely. "Yay?" shrugged Mrs. Botsford. Bob was the only one to jump up and down eagerly, cheering in squeaks.
"That's the spirit! Good show, Bob," approved Mr. Botsford.
Just then, a voice over a megaphone announced, "Attention everyone. Contest judging is about to start. Please stand ready to present your-hey! What the-!"
The park goers looked up curiously and apprehensive as a brief struggle was heard, followed by a screech as the megaphone was apparently wrestled from the man in charge.
"Hello? Hello…is this on?" a gravelly voice replaced the earlier one.
Sarcastic, the first voice told him, "Of course it's on. I was talking into it when you took it from me."
"Oh right. Wham," the intruder, who was obviously The Whammer, thanked the other guy, "Well then, attention park people! Has anyone seen Chuck the Guy Who Does Bread-Related Things?"
Becky and Bob gasped and exchanged a look. Becky fretted, "Uh-oh. The Whammer's free? This isn't good. Come on Bob, we'll probably be needed." While the rest of her family looked toward the sound of the voice, she and Bob snuck out of sight.
Up on a small stage near the park entrance, The Whammer continued to poll the masses that were scratching their heads and having no idea who he was talking about. "Anyone? Anyone seen Chuckie…Bready…Bread-Maker…Sandwich Dude…uh, uh-oh, The Whammer's gone cross-eyed."
Under a table, where he'd gone to hide in embarrassment from all the staring, Chuck perked and peered from under the tablecloth upon hearing Whammer's voice. Then, with each improper pronunciation of his name he got a little more upset. Finally he stood up sharply, calling out, "It's 'the Evil Sandwich Making Guy'!" Sounding very peeved, he stormed through the crowd, who parted for him. "Sandwich Making Guy! Why can't you ever get it right?"
Clearly miffed, Chuck stormed up to join The Whammer on stage. "Go on, say 'Sandwich Making Guy', I dare you."
The initial elation Whammer displayed was replaced by an expression of thoughtful strain. "Um, 'Bready-Makey Dude'."
Chuck's palm met his face. "Ugh, never mind. What are you even doing here? Didn't I tell you I wanted to be alone?"
"Wham," confirmed Whammer, "But The Whammer hates having Chuckie so mad at him. He just had to break out, yeah, and make everything ok first." He looked at Chuck with a dejected honesty that caught Chuck off-guard.
During the brief pause while Chuck was blinking dumbfoundedly, Word Girl and Captain Huggyface arrived on the scene. Word Girl dropped Huggy to the stage, where he assumed a fighting stance in preparation, should anything go awry.
Hovering, Word Girl ordered, "Alright, you two, this is neither the time nor the place for a tiff. You're causing a major disturbance. Break it up." She clapped her hands in a chop-chop fashion.
A calmer Chuck objected, "No-no, wait a sec, Word Girl." He swept her aside gently and continued to Whammer, "Look, I'm not really mad at you. I just wish you'd listen a little better, that's all. I asked you to lie of the zeal so I could have some time to figure out my feelings for you, but here you are totally not lying off the zeal..!"
The Whammer's confused look was back. "Say wham now? The Whammer doesn't even know any seals..! He was tryin' to ask you about that before, yeah."
Exasperated, Chuck looked to Word Girl for help.
The tug on her cape from Huggy stirred Word Girl from the observing daze she'd slipped into. "Huh? Oh, you want me to define zeal?" she asked, "Ok, well, zeal is when you give a great amount of energy towards a pursuit or a goal. Like Whammer, you tend to get excited about anything relating to whamming. You have a zeal for destruction. You also put a lot of effort into going after Chuck. You're very zealous in trying to win his affection. Get it?"
"Ooooh!" Whammer realized slowly, his eyes widening, "Then Chuckie, all you wanted was some space? Why didn't you just whammer so?"
"Like it would have done me any good to say it differently! You only hear like half of what I say anyway! You always-" Chuck caught himself mid-burst, seeing The Whammer look down in guilt.
"No. Y'know what?" Chuck tried again, shifting to a lighter tone, "It's kinda my fault too. I'm always yelling at you for everything because you're so zealous, and it's a little intimidating. Honesty I wish I could be a little more like that, all confident and stuff. But you came here to try and apologize and here I am being a jerk to you. Can you forgive me?"
The Whammer began to tear, but not sadly. A smile was in fact forming on his lips. In answer, he said, a bit choked, "Aw Chuckie, The Whammer will always forgive you. And he apologizes too, for chasing you around all the time like this; The Whammer just really, really loves you, yeah! He's desperate to make this wham."
He came forward to engulf Chuck in a hug, but suddenly backed off with his hands up, remembering aloud, "Woah, nope..! No hugs. Chuckie doesn't like touching. Wham."
Chuck relaxed from his reflexive flinch and looked at The Whammer cutely standing back and rubbing his arm, looking anywhere but at the sandwich man. The Whammer even waved to a couple members of the crowd enthralled by the drama unfolding before them.
That did it for Chuck. He melted with a smile, his hands clasping together. "Wow," he awed, "You actually respected my personal space? I guess you do listen."
"Wham?" questioned one surprised Whammer. His eyes met Chuck's, even more stunned to find them gazing at him with a soft, approving warmth.
"Yeah. I think I could love a puppy like you."
The Whammer's head tilted, not understanding the reference, but said nothing as he continued to gawp in disbelief. Every on-looker in the park leaned forward with bated breath, including Word Girl and Captain Huggyface. What would happen next? Would they actually hook up? Officially? Were they going to-?
The irritated voice of Dr. Two-Brains rang out over the silence, "Oh, just kiss already! You know you both want it!"
Both villains onstage blushed in reaction. Whammer backed off a couple more steps, assuring, "Uh, that's ok, Chuckie. You really don't have to or nothin'. The Whammer remembers last time, yeah."
But Chuck didn't seem to be paying attention for once. A brilliant pink still gracing his cheeks, he bit his lip in an apparent inner struggle. This lasted for about two seconds before he rushed forward, clearly on impulse, and gave The Whammer a tackling kiss full on the lips.
The Whammer wasn't knocked down very easily, but he was certainly shocked by this choice on Chuck's part. As the crowd gasped collectively, again including Word Girl and Huggy, Whammer almost wished he could do the same. But in another couple of seconds he was cured of his paralysis by a sudden rush of glee, and instantly crushed his own arms around Chuck to joyously reciprocate the kiss.
"Awwww…" now went the crowd.
After a couple moments of heated friction, Chuck and The Whammer decided they needed to breathe and separated, but The Whammer still held Chuck in a cuddling embrace. Chuck didn't seem to mind so much this time.
"I'd still like you to try and learn my name though," he did mention.
"The Whammer…will work on it…yeah," promised a very dizzy-with-bliss Whammer.
Word Girl assessed the moment as opportune and cleared her throat to say, "Uh, ok, I let you guys work this out; now can you please clear the stage so the park event can continue? Oh, but congratulations."
Huggy gave a thumb up and chirp of approval before he and Word Girl herded them offstage, holding hands to much applause and cheering. The Whammer paused only to return the megaphone to its owner.
The owner looked happy to have things back on track. He lifted the device and began to announce, "Aaaalright people, now that that's out of the way, the contest judging shall begin in-"
Sirens and lights interrupted him as several police cars and one big truck arrived suddenly on the scene. The megaphone guy slumped in frustration as police came forth from these vehicles.
"Aha! Now we've got you, Whammer!" beamed one cop as he and another man came forward to apprehend him, "It's back behind bars for you."
Word Girl stared blankly. "Wow. Y'know with everything going on, I totally forgot about the whole 'Whammer's an escaped criminal' thing…" Beside her, Huggy wore the same expression while he squawked in agreement.
Now as The Whammer was escorted into the back of a paddy wagon in specialized restraints, he protested, "What? No! You can't take The Whammer from Chuckie; we just whammed up for real! So un-whammer, yeah!"
The crowd booed as Chuck waved a meek farewell to the struggling captive. Word Girl and Huggy shared a sympathetic glance. Huggy gave her a nod to which she smiled.
"Wait a minute, guys," she said authoritatively. The cops turned back curiously.
Word Girl continued, "It may interest you to know that while you were all out looking for The Whammer, Chuck here was doing a pret-ty good job of disturbing the peace onstage over there."
Chuck perked in surprise, but then grinned hopefully with a thankful glance to Word Girl. The Whammer did likewise.
"Oh really…" said the one policeman, definitely sounding interested. Huggy nodded accusingly and pointed to Chuck with a chirp-ish growl. He then mimed being clapped in irons.
"I see," smirked the man, "Looks like we get two for the price of one, then. Book 'im, Danny!"
The other cop came forth to put cuffs on Chuck and place him next to The Whammer in the paddy wagon. Whammer bounced excitedly until Chuck was seated, then leaned against him lovingly. Chuck smirked in a way that made it obvious he found this adorable.
"Ahhh, it feels good to do the right thing," sighed Word Girl as the doors were closed and the police left. She glanced to Huggy. "Time to close the show?"
Huggy nodded and threw a chirp skyward.
The Narrator sounded surprised. "Oh, you want to end it? What about that cereal toy bit? Not goin' anywhere?"
"I'll get one eventually," Word Girl shrugged, "We don't have to wrap up every sub-plot, do we? We've only got eleven minutes."
"Good point," answered The Narrator as Word Girl flew herself and Huggy back to their family with an outfit change. The guy with the megaphone sourly walked by and passed them a ribbon as the show was closed, "And so, with Chuck and The Whammer finally together where they belong, the park contest can finally go on as scheduled, and you can tune in next week for a much more normal, actually action-packed episode of Word Girl."