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I Love You Timmy Turner	By : Wendell Urth Category: +1 through F > Fairly OddParents Views: 10443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Fairly Odd Parents or any of the characters in this story. I have no financial interest, expect no money, etc. for this story. Not appropriate for underage readers. “see full disclaimer below".

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
Timmy never asked Vicky again how she was able to blackmail his parents. She wouldn’t have told him anyway. Let’s not give her too much credit. If he hadn’t used the mind control choker on her, she would have held it over him his entire sad life. But while she was still evil, she loved him now (or what passes for love). She’d keep the secret. She’d protect him from the truth.
When Timmy first got his Fairies, he was unaware of the investigation that went into his family background by the Fairy High Council. Sooner or later every Godchild time travelled into their parent’s background and sometimes there were embarrassing things best not revealed. The Council might find it necessary to tweak things to protect the child from learning things that might have unforeseen consequences.
The Fairy Council was horrified by what they found. Lookalike actors were found and planted throughout the time stream. They would eventually be removed once the child lost his Fairies. Fortunately, the Turner’s had lied to their son about being from Dimmsdale, so it was easy to plant their doppelgangers there.
The Turners drove north, relieved to be escaping from the last several years of their lives relatively unscathed. Escaping the son they were incapable of loving, leaving him to the clutches of his new mother/guardian was less painful then imagined.
They were really very sick people.
Sociopaths and psychopaths share similar traits. At best, they have a poor sense of right and wrong. They can’t understand or share other people’s feelings. Whatever the Turner’s were, they were also stupid.
How Timmy had turned out so normal, so loving, would be a career making study for any researcher into child psychology.
“Let’s head back to Pottersville, baby.” Mr. Turner said. “I’m sure the heat must be off us by now.”
Mrs. Turner giggled. The ‘heat’ must really have cooled a lot, considering the firey circumstances of their departure. “Let’s drive by the house first, (or where it used to be), scope out the situation. The property belongs to us, after all.”
They parked their outdated station wagon a few blocks down from 13 Potters Lane and pretended to be joggers and passed the property. The large lot they remembered from childhood had been divided in 4 smaller lots, each with a nice home on it. “We’re in the money, baby! Let’s go collect” Mr. Turner said.
The City Clerk at the Pottersville City Hall had heard it all before. He explained patiently to the “Potters” that the property in question had been seized by the city for non-payment of taxes for over a decade, then sold to developers. It didn’t matter who the property originally belonged to. Cases like this came up sometimes two or three times a week. Most times, people walked away disappointed, but not surprised. Sometimes people left angry, even threatening legal action. But as long as the paperwork had been correctly filed (it was), legal notices placed in local newspapers (they were), then no reputable lawyer would even consider taking the case. But the ‘Potters’ reaction went far beyond angry. The City Clerk had to call the guards to remove the shouting, sputtering, incandescent couple from City Hall. That’s why there were guards.
The guards, tired of the abuse, threats and wild gestures, assisted the ‘Potters’ down the stone stairs of City Hall. They bounced several times on the way down.
That night, the City Clerk’s shed burned down. It might have been an accident.
The next day he found a brick had been thrown through his wife’s car window.
The Clerk called the police. He was an obsessive note taker and keenly observant. Many people came to City Hall and left angry. It was part of the job. He had received threats before, but this was the first time he had actually been attacked.
The ‘Potters’ name floated quickly to the top of the list. The Potters, Emily and Emil had been notorious several years ago. The family mansion at 13 Potters Lane (yes, they were distantly related to the town’s founders) had burned to the ground the night that Emil & Emily had disappeared. Two corpses were found in the wreckage, burned beyond recognition.
The fire was ruled ‘Suspicious’ rather than ‘Arson’, due to a botched investigation by the City Fire Inspector, a distant Potter relative who was later accused of protecting his family’s reputation.
First Responders at the scene all claimed that they could smell gasoline.
CSI Pottersville was called in, but later dismissed when the coroner ruled the deaths “Undetermined’ rather than “Homicides”, since they were too badly burned for a proper autopsy.
It was eventually determined that the bodies were of Oscar & Sharon Potter, parents of the fraternal twins Emily & Emil Potter.
Police searched for the notorious Potter twins for several months, but the case grew cold. Anyway, their crimes could not be substantiated.
Mr. & Mrs. Turner (AKA Potter) were brother and sister, twins, living as husband and wife in another city.
Timmy Turner was the child of incest. That was the secret.
Did they murder their parents? At this point it can’t be determined if Oscar & Sharon were alive when the house was burned or were dead beforehand. Certainly, they set the fire, probably to hide the bodies. But without a ruling of arson or homicide, an arrest would be doubtful.
Still, the Police wanted to speak to them.
The City Clerk rebuilt his shed and fixed his wife’s car window, insurance covered it and he actually came out with a slight profit on the deal.
I’d like to say the Turners (or Potters) were never heard from again. I’d like to… but that’s not the truth.
Several years later Vicky heard from a recently widowed Mrs. Turner, demanding money or she would expose the truth about Timmy.
Vicky disappeared for a few days. Timmy was puzzled, but sometimes Vicky did this and never told him why. He was OK with that (actually he preferred not knowing), but he was always sure it was in his best interests. Slave Whore Tootie could take care of his needs for a few days and they both had Cunt Trixie to play with.
The faux blonde American, missing most of her brown hair and teeth now, slaved away in a cocaine processing plant, deep in the jungle. She had danced for a while in a strip bar in Mexico and eventually had been sold to a brothel. Chained to a bed, servicing an endless stream of men and boys (and sometimes their animals), 24 hours a day. She was addicted and kept on the edge of withdrawal to keep her compliant. Eventually she was all fucked out and no use to the brothel keepers.
They could have killed her, but eventually they sold her. It was part of the agreement they made with their red headed American sponsor.
She was in her 30’s, looked to be in her 60’s. She didn’t have any friends among the slaves. That was OK, she was kept high all the time and that was enough. Even the guards didn’t want to fuck her. One day another American was brought to the camp. She was dirty and insane, clearly her mind had been destroyed. She looked slightly familiar to ‘Ron-eee’, as the native slaves called her (meaning ‘white bitch’ in their dialect). Ron-eee couldn’t remember much of her own life from before. She and the crazy woman became lovers. Both shared their dreams, nightmares about red-headed demons.
The average life expectancy for a cocaine processing slave is about 4 years.
- 12
- 13
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I Love You Timmy Turner