A/N – Somewhere between "Minor Monogram" and "Sipping With the Enemy," I started contemplating how to break up any romance between Monty and Vanessa. I actually liked how they handled things in "Sipping," and would probably think the relationship was kind of cute, if I wasn't such a hardcore Ferbnessa fan. But, like Johnny, Monty must be disposed of. My apologies to any Monty fans.

Dan and Swampy are responsible for this mess. And they are way past due on giving us even the smallest bit of fresh Ferbnessa. Come on, guys, throw us a bone here!

Arrivederci Monty

Perry the Platypus plummeted into his lair and made a perfect landing in his usual seat, straightening his fedora as he looked up at the man on the monitor.

"Oh, there you are, Agent P," Major Monogram intoned. "We just received a transmission from Doofenshmirtz. Ominous doesn't even begin to describe it. Carl," the Major prompted, and the Intern cued up the recording.

The smiling stock photo of Heinz Doofenshmirtz posed in front of a fake island sunset sprang up on the screen as a choppy audio track played through the speakers. "Ahh, Perry the Platypus. I've just bought up all the – potatoes – carbon paper – aluminum foil – and – green paint – in the – ENTIRE TRI-STATE AREA! If you want to – thwart me Perry the Platypus – bring it on!"

The sound clicked off, and the photo disappeared. Monogram's face filled the screen again as he said, "Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of that reprobate? Put a stop to it, Agent P!"

"Krkrkrkrkr," Perry responded, saluting as the monitor went black, but he didn't move from his chair. Something wasn't right. The recording might have just suffered from technical difficulties, but it struck Perry as something cobbled together from an assortment of disjointed sound bites. And Doofenshmirtz's shopping list – he had used all those items in previous schemes. Perry didn't really believe that his nemesis had come up with some plot to recycle all those failed ideas, but he was certain that the 'ominous transmission' was bait for a trap. His bill curved in a subtle smile as he headed out on his mission. Whatever Doof was up to this time, Agent P was ready for him.

When the platypus reached Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated, he found the glass dome on the top of the building half open. Sailing down on his glider, he kept an eye out for trouble, but saw nothing – no traps, no inators, no Doofenshmirtz. He made an extra circle or two, scoping out the situation, but still detecting no danger, he finally folded his wings and landed. The evil scientist's machines and super-computers glowed and beeped all around him, but only faintly and softly, as if asleep. The little lounge area, with the hot pink sofa and zebra rug, was empty, except for a cast-off book. Perry couldn't see the title, but the cover was purple with a black scrollwork border. It didn't look like the sort of thing Doofenshmirtz would read. More like some gothic romance novel…

"Hey, Perry."

The cool, feminine voice startled him, and he whirled on his webbed feet to face a shapely, black-clad figure. Instinctively taking a defensive posture, Perry glared up at Vanessa. "Krkrkrkrkr."

"Dad's not here," she answered, sauntering to the couch. "You want a soda?" The girl offered one of the two bottles she was carrying. "I brought one for you; it's lemon."

Perry folded his arms and regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not going to poison you," Vanessa insisted, with an exasperated sigh. "Look, if you don't like lemon, I can get you a diet cola or something."

Perry didn't want a drink of any kind. He wanted to know what was going on. "Krkrkrkrkr."

"He went to the grocery for Greek Yogurt, Canadian Bacon and Mexican Jumping Beans. Yeah," she answered Perry's baffled look. "I don't want to know, either."

The platypus glanced around the rooftop again, still trying to piece this all together. It was almost as if…

"Thanks for showing up, though. I can't believe Major Monogram actually fell for that fake recording." With a smug smile, Vanessa settled herself on the sofa. "About the carbon paper and aluminum foil?" she clarified, when Perry just gawked at her. "It wasn't very good; I had to throw it together in a hurry. Of course," she snorted, "this is Monty's father we're talking about."

Perry scowled at her and gritted his teeth. He hadn't come all this way to drink sodas with his nemesis' daughter and listen to her insult his boss. With a mocking tug at the brim of his fedora, he turned to deploy his jet pack.

"Wait!" Vanessa was on her feet. "Perry, don't go! Look, I know I tricked you into coming over here, but you've been avoiding me, and I really need to talk to you. Please?" she appealed to him, with those big eyes and pouty lips. He wasn't hard-wired to find humans attractive, but it was no wonder that Ferb was so smitten with her. Grumbling to himself, he shed the jet pack, walked over, and hopped up on the couch. Vanessa offered the bottle of soda again, but with a raised paw he refused it. "Okay," Vanessa set it on the low table in front of him. "Look, I know I owe you an apology. That thing I said, about the Agency just being a petting zoo with hats?"

Perry cast a sidelong glance at her, maintaining his stiff posture. She certainly did owe him an apology for that. Especially after all of his efforts to cover up her little coffee klatch with Monty Monogram.

"I didn't mean that," Vanessa went on. "I was just mad at Monty. He was insulting my Dad, and – well, I know I badmouth Dad, too, but – he's my Dad!"

Perry understood. He knew how much Doofenshmirtz adored his daughter, and he knew that, deep down, in spite of her griping about him, Vanessa loved her father. Of course she would defend him against anyone else's scorn.

Now she was fuming. "I knew right then that this Monty thing was never going to work out, but I told him to call me, and he did, and…" She slumped forward and dropped her head into her hand. "Perry, why am I so stupid when it comes to guys?"

"Krkrkrkrkr."

"Yeah, I know, I was on the rebound from Johnny. And I thought Monty would be good for me. I mean, he's a good guy. He's smart, and responsible. He has ambitions. I like that. Johnny was such a slacker – yeah, I thought that was cool when we were together, but it's just – lame. Monty's really cute, too – well, once you get past the monobrow," she admitted. "And, come on, he's got a jet pack, who wouldn't love that?"

True, thought Perry. But he knew someone else who had a jet pack. And a rocket ship and a time machine and an anti-gravity device... If only human pups didn't take so infernally long to reach maturity!

"I really thought we were hitting it off," Vanessa insisted, going on about Monty as Perry reached for his bottle of lemon soda and uncapped it. "He made me smile, and there aren't many people who can do that. But…" She sighed and shook her head in resignation.

"Krkrkrkrkr," said Perry, with a sympathetic expression.

"No, our dads aren't the problem," Vanessa sat back, taking a drink from her own soda bottle. "Well, I guess they're part of the problem, but – we're just too different. Sure, he likes cappuccino with chocolate powder on top and ginger scones, but – okay." She turned herself on the couch to face Perry, and he obligingly did the same, the better to listen. "The next time Monty called me, he asked me out to lunch. And do you know where he wanted to take me? Slushy Dawg."

"Krkrkrkrkr," said Perry, with a disparaging twist of his bill.

"No, he's not 'cheap,'" said Vanessa defensively. Then she snorted softly as she imparted the horrible truth: "He actually likes Slushy Dawg! Can you imagine?"

Perry made a disgusted face.

"Yeah, I know, right? So, he asked where I wanted to go, and I said Café Cerise. It's nothing fancy, it's just this little French bakery downtown, but he says no, he doesn't eat anything he can't pronounce. Like I'm going to force-feed him snails or something! We finally went to Better Panda. Which was fine, except we ended up getting into a conversation about Peter the Panda, and my Dad, and – "

"Krkrkrkrkr." Perry glowered.

"Sorry," Vanessa put a hand to her mouth. "I guess that's still kind of a sore subject. Well, the point is, we ended up bickering about our dads again." After another gulp of soda, she resumed. "A week later, we ran into each other at Steam Noir, and we both ordered the same thing again, and I thought, okay, we should give this one more try. And we both agreed, no talking about our dads or anything even remotely related to them. So we start talking about movies, and the first thing he asks me is if I've seen That Darn Fiance, and wasn't it great? Really? Really? He honestly thinks I would like some lame chick flick rom com with that stupid girl with the hair, and that so-called 'comedian' who thinks he can act? 'Oh, yeah,' he says, 'I guess you only like movies with subtitles.' Like he thinks I'm some sort of snob!"

Perry gave her a look that expressed both surprise at this assumption and reassurance that it wasn't true.

"Just because I'd rather see a movie that assumes I have half a brain! Oh, and don't even get me started on his taste in music."

"Krkrkrkrkr." That was all the coaxing she needed.

"Okay, I get that he doesn't like Scraping Fangs, I know not everyone's into the heavy stuff. That's fine. And no, that's not the only kind of music I like. But he actually listens to Barry Manilow. Celine Dion, Kenny G – For crying out loud, this is the kind of stuff my Mom likes! He's an eighteen year old guy and he's listening to my Mom's music? You have got to be kidding me! Oh, and do you want to hear the worst of it?"

Perry leaned in with an intensely curious expression.

Vanessa lowered her voice before delivering the final blow. "He watches golf on television."

"Krkrkrkrkr." Perry shook his head in dismay.

"Perry, why is this so difficult?" Vanessa lamented. "I date a 'bad boy' and he turns out to be an immature loser, I find a 'nice guy' and he's some vanilla goody two-shoes. Why can't I find a guy who's nice and smart and cool and quirky and – I don't know, plays the guitar, and likes ginger scones, and has a jet pack..."

"Krkrkrkrkr." Perry reached out and gave her arm an encouraging pat.

Vanessa regarded him with a gentle chuckle. "Yeah, right, Perry; I'm sure you do know someone like that. But let's face it: You're really not my type."

THE END

A/N – First off, I meant no offense to anyone who likes Barry Manilow, Celine Dion or Kenny G – I just needed some sort of music that I could see Vanessa thinking was lame, but that wasn't something Ferb would especially like, either. Oh, and I don't usually use "real names" in my P&F fics, but I didn't think I could convey what sort of music she was talking about with "made up" names.

Oh, and I also don't mind golf on television – the line is a reference to a gag from "Phineas and Ferb Interrupted," when the boys get hit with the Dull-and-Boring-inator.

Also, even though they set up the gag in "Minor Monogram" that Doof doesn't really understand Perry, I kind of like to think that Vanessa actually does.

FINALLY, I am still mentally working on a "Queen's Diamond Jubilee" story. I know pretty well what I want to do, I just have to work out a logistical snag.