SHE

Friday night…RonNight! For Kim Possible, RonNight had taken on a whole new dimension in the past eight months, fourteen days, and 3 ½ hours since those four words were first spoken. Those four special words that made her smile and laugh and cry and want to lay a kiss on her Best Friend Boy Friend, Ron Stoppable, that would melt the freckles off his face: "Out there, in here."

RonNight! And "in here" meant cuddling on the Possible's living room couch and watching a romantic movie, one guaranteed to keep the tweebs and a very perceptive Dr. Anne Possible and a not so perceptive Dr. James Possible somewhere else.

"OK, Ron, your choice—Roxanne or Notting Hill? Wake up, Ron!"

"Huh? Sorry 'bout that, KP. Just recharging the Rondo batteries." Yawn. Normally Kim would have been peeved, but Ron had already pulled an all-nighter the previous day studying for Mr. Barkin's American history exam on their return flight from South America where they foiled DNAmy's attempt to create Llaguars. This afternoon he babysat his adopted baby sister, Hannah, and as much as Kim loved little Hannah, she had had enough first hand experience cleaning squished banana fingerprints off the Stoppable's ceiling to appreciate Ron's exhaustion. "Let's see. Roxanne—goofy guy falls for beautiful space scientist, which somehow reminds me of black holes. Nix that one. What was the other, Invasion of the Ninja Space Babes from Mars?"

"Nice try, ninja boy," said Kim; she smirked and popped Notting Hill into the DVD player. "Now," she said in her I'm-in-charge mission voice, "scoot that hot ninja bod of yours next to mine."

"Yes, ma'am." Ron lay his head down on Kim's lap, looking up at those emerald eyes and very hungry looking lips that descended upon his. He was suddenly a bit more awake. He turned 90 degrees to face the TV and snuggled to get more comfortable next to Kim, who stroked his floppy yellow hair and prince of England ears. She started crooning with the DVD, "She, may be the face I can't forget…"

A vaguely familiar face startled the assistant manager of the pet division at Smarty Mart, Ron Stoppable. He had been restocking the shelves with 5 pound bags of Naked Mole Rat Chow—a special concoction of cheese puffs, popcorn, and Tex-Mex—when a flash of red caught his eye. He followed a young woman to the row upon row of exotic fish and reptile tanks. She was wearing a pair of Blues Brothers sunglasses and an oversized baseball cap from which cascaded the most magnificent flame of hair down her back. "Can I help you?"

"No thank you. Just browsing."

Where had he seen her before? "Might I suggest one of our new Fluorescent Glo-Guppies? We also have some bison on back order, but the Glo-Guppies are more suitable for small apartments, unless you have easy access to a prairie, in which case bison are the in-thing for trendy pet shoppers." Did she just smirk at me? "Excuse me, I know this sounds like the lamest pick up line, but haven't we met before?"

She lowered her sunglasses to look at him, revealing a pair of green eyes that sent his heart into spasms. He dropped a bag of Naked Mole Rat Chow. "I'm Kim Possible, former head cheerleader at Middleton High, now public relations rep for the Global Justice Criminal Investigation Agency. And you are Ron Stoppable."

"You remember me?"

"No, I can read your name tag." He seems nice. Kinda cute. Weird. But nice.

"Of course! Kim Possible" said Ron rather loudly, enough for Kim to cringe. "I'm a huge fan—I tape all your infomercials on fighting criminal wackos. Just didn't recognize you in…" A hand shot over his mouth.

"Yes, that's so the point, don't you think? International celebrity would like a few minutes of normalcy by shopping for radioactive fish in Smarty-Mart, hello?"

"Right." Smooth, Stoppable. You've just stepped on first base on the way to Stupidville.

"And I would like a pair of lime green and hot pink Glo-Guppies, please and thank you."

"Yes, ma'am." Ron rang up her purchase and handed her a plastic bag of glowing nuke guppies. "I've also added a 30 percent discount coupon that can be used towards a future purchase of bison, should you change your mind." In an act of spontaneous insanity, he suddenly asked, "If you don't have anything to do tonight, would you like to go out with me?" Now you're hitting on the customers. Second base.

"I'm sorry, I already have an engagement," said Kim.

Rounding third.

"I've been scheduled to attend a photo autograph signing session at the TV station," she sighed. "If you can come, I'll give you a signed glossie. It's the least I can do in return for this generous deal on large, dangerous herbivores."

"Booyah!"

What am I doing here? Ron parked his motor scooter at the Middleton television station and arrived in time to hear Kim's account of how she participated in the recent capture of a Lord Fiske, who apparently seems obsessed with stealing ancient mystical monkey artifacts. Then he noticed a long, snaking line of kids, teens, parents, grandparents that stretched to Denver and back. After standing in line for two hours, he gave up. Just as he was about to rev up his scooter, he felt someone tapping him on his shoulder. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Stoppable? Ms. Possible asked me to find and bring you to the conference room inside the station." He followed the assistant to the room and saw her standing, facing the window and rubbing her hand. She was wearing her signature white and blue striped Global Justice bodysuit, her flaming hair cascading down her back. After a minute, he picked his jaw off the floor.

She turned and saw him, smiled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to stand around for so long on my account."

"No problemo." This was worth a week of standing in a line.

"You're very sweet." She gave him a gentle peck on his cheek; Ron swayed as if hit by a hurricane gust. "I was thinking about your offer earlier this afternoon. I told my staff to cancel my dinner plans with the city council because I will be meeting with Middleton's leading expert on exotic fish and prairie animals. Give me fifteen minutes to change."

Don't bother, thought Ron—and did she just smirk at me again?

"How about a quick run through the Bueno Nacho drive-thru and a picnic at the city park?"

"Booyah."

"So, Kim, what's it like, being an internationally famous crime fighter," Ron asked between bites as they strolled along a walking trail.

"It's OK, I suppose. I mean, the money is nice, and I can't complain about the perks, traveling around the world and meeting famous people. After finishing my degree in international law at Cambridge and doing a brief career as a super-model, I was asked to be a publicity spokesperson for Global Justice. I know what you see on TV seems exciting, but actually I wait for one of the senior agents like Will Du to do all the hard work, then I arrive at the end, say a few scripted lines at the bad guys, and then act out the arrest on a promotional GJ video. What about you?"

"Being an assistant manager of radio-active fish at Smarty Mart isn't exactly the fast track to fame and fortune. I like my job—sometimes I think I understand animals a lot better than people. But mostly I put in my time and focus on my hobby. I do recipes."

"That's interesting. What kind do you collect?"

"Not collect. I write them and then send them off to see if they'll be used. Do you know that Emeril guy on the food channel?"

"He invited me to be his guest one time. He made this unbelievable lobster bisque." Ron raised his eyebrows and started whistling. "That was yours? No way."

"He didn't put in enough kosher salt, and I prefer Breton lobster over Maine, but he didn't mess it up too bad."

The light bulb finally lit in Kim's head. "You're the guy who started that French bistro in Mr. Barkin's home economics class." The only class I ever received a C in. Grrrr.

"Yes, those were the good times, the Café Stop-ee-blay." The only class I ever received an A in. Booyah.

They continued walking, somewhat bemused at how their life paths had never crossed. As they rounded a corner of the trail, four gorilla sized thugs emerged from the shadows. Thug Number One blocked the path; Ron felt like hyperventilating. "Now ain't dat nice, two little loveboids having a romantical stroll and all. Now hand over…"

Ron never found out what he was supposed to hand over because Kim's left foot suddenly reconnected Thug One's lower jaw to his upper jaw. Was that his tongue flying out of his mouth? Ewww, sick and wrong. By the time Thug Two understood what had happened, Kim had become a whirling human helicopter of destruction and delivered a crushing kick upside his head, loosening several molars. She back flipped towards Thug Three and delivered a stomach punch that sent him flying over a park bench. Thug Four had been advancing towards Ron, but when he saw visions of his lifespan dramatically shorten in Kim's glare, he decided that running away would be the wiser course of action. It was over in less than ten seconds.

"What just happened, how did, ohmygosh, that was the most badical thing I've ever seen. That was—"

"No big." Kim blushed. "I took Kung Fu lessons from my Nanna when I was younger. She was a hand-to-hand combat trainer for Navy commando units."

They walked further along the path, quietly reappraising each other in their thoughts, not noticing how their hands and shoulders brushed against each other. As the walking trail ended in a historic Victorian style neighborhood, they saw a little girl sobbing. Ron knelt down and asked her, "what's wrong, honey?"

"Mr. Hays," sob, "he got up the tree," sob, "and he won't come down." She then noticed Kim. "You're Miss Possible! You gave me your picture today and signed your name and wrote I am your special friend." Mr. Hays was momentarily forgotten. Kim smiled, and then launched herself ten feet in the air, performing acrobatic moves that would make an Olympic gymnast shake his head in wonder, and soon retrieved Mr. Hays back down to the lowest branch. Just as she leaned over to hand the cat to Ron, the branch cracked. Mr. Hays jumped on Ron's head and clawed his way down his back. Despite being pin-cushioned by Mr. Hays, Ron's immediate thoughts were on Kim as he tried to catch her before she hit the ground. His feet slipped on some loose gravel, his head smacking the pavement, while Kim landed on his stomach.

"Ron, are you OK?" He groaned, then saw her eyes just inches above his own.

"I am now," he said with a widening grin.

Kim leaned closer and gave him a "thank you" kiss that seemed to last much longer than was necessary for a "thank you" kiss, not that Ron minded.

"Come on, my parents' house is just a few blocks over. My mother is a doctor—you need to let her check you out." Yes, Mom, please check this guy out.

Minutes later, Kim practically dragged him up the front porch steps. The front door opened wide. "Kim, surprise!"

"Brick, this is a surprise."

"Who's this dude? I see you've met Kim, my fiancé. Name's Brick Flagg, you know, like I'm the starting quarterback for the Denver Omelets." He grabbed Ron's hand in a bone-crushing handshake; Ron moaned silently.

"I'm, uh, Fred, Fred Hays, the station coordinator for Ms. Possible's TV interviews tomorrow. I was, uh, just on my way home and, uh, thought I'd let her know she had some cancellations of future meetings that I was, I mean, she was counting on, I mean…"

"Dude, you are one funny little nervous guy. That's OK, I'm used to affecting people that way. You look like a tree fell on you. You better run on home and get yourself cleaned up. Say good night, Kim."

"Good night, Mr. Hays, and thanks for the info," her voice said. Her eyes said I'm so so sorry.

"Ron, check this out. We're now live in Internet Land." Felix, Ron's closest friend and roommate, had set up web cams throughout their apartment. The main beneficiary would be Felix's girlfriend, Monique. If Monique wants to spy on the Ron Man as well as keep tabs on her boyfriend, well, Ron wasn't too crazy about the setup, but Felix's computer expertise and friendship outweighed the prurient eccentricities of his girlfriend.

"Still moping over supercop woman? Man, the girl is engaged, rich, smart, famous—what part of 'untouchable' do you not understand?"

"I know, I know. I try to get her out of my head."

"Watching 4 hours of Kim Possible infomercials every night does not count as 'trying.' As the little green master said, 'Do, or do not. There is no try.' You've got it worse than I thought. You need to get back in the saddle."

"Yeah, you keep saying that." Felix and Monique had started a campaign of setting Ron up with every available single woman in Middleton. He appreciated their efforts, though the dates usually ended up in disasters, such as the one with the colortarian named Cee Cee a few weeks ago. He had grilled filet mignon for a small dinner party, when Cee Cee announced that she couldn't eat because she was a colortarian. Ron asked her what that was. I believe, said Cee Cee, that we should eat foods that encompass the entire color spectrum, each day being devoted to a certain color: Monday for red foods, Tuesday orange, Wednesday yellow, Thursday green, Friday blue, Saturday purple. Since the dinner date was on Saturday night, she would eat only purple foods. What about Sunday, Ron asked. On Sunday I eat neutral colors, like beige, brown, or gray. Ron excused himself to the living room and watched infomercials.

This weekend Monique had taken Felix out of town to meet her parents, so they said. He suspected it was a not-so-subtle hint that since he had the entire apartment to himself for 72 hours, he should take advantage of the situation. Friday night he rented Invasion of the Ninja Babes from Mars I, II, III, and IV, watching one after the other. After a ten hour marathon of Martian ninja babes, he finally crawled into bed at five in the morning. Luckily he had the weekend off from Smarty Mart. He was not pleased to hear his doorbell ring three hours later. Groan. He put on some sweats and his Fearless Ferret bathrobe, opened the door.

It was Kim.

"May I come in?"

"Yeah, sure, please sit down," he said as he quickly stuffed the Ninja Babe DVDs into his Fearless Ferret pockets. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Duh, I work for a criminal investigation agency. I simply asked my personal assistant and computer guru, Wade, to track down your address and set up a 24 hour surveillance so I would know where and when to find you alone. No big."

I should introduce your friend Wade to Felix and Monique, thought Ron. He said, "It's nice to see you again. What's the occasion?" Ron's awkweird meter was registering a 7.5. Why is she here, and what about Mr. Omelet Fiancé?

Kim burst into tears. "It's them. I have this 'princess' persona with the press, and there are always those filthy minded scum trying to ruin my reputation and they were everywhere, at my condo, my parents' front yard, the airport, throwing it in my face, I didn't know where else to go."

"Whoa. Who's they, and what is it?"

"They are paparazzi and every gossip columnist from every grocery store gossip rag in the country. The It are photos of me supposedly making out with this super villain named Shego."

Who's Shego? "Go on, and would you like something to drink, a chilled Belgian chocolate espresso, perhaps?"

"Please and thank you. Anyway, as I was saying."

"Shego?"

"Oh gawd," Kim wailed. "They're horrible. A few years ago at the start of my modeling career, I did some negligee shots for Smarty Mart. It was humiliating, but I was just a dumb stupid kid back then."

"So the negligee photo session you did was embarrassing?" I didn't even know Smarty Mart had things like that—I need to get around the store more often.

"No, doing it for Smarty Mart was the humiliating part. But some perv found copies of the original digital pictures, manipulated some newspaper pictures of Shego, and twisted all the images so it looks like we're having some sex kitten pajama party. Oh, they're horrible." Kim started sobbing again.

After a while she stopped crying; the espresso helped. She turned to Ron, asked him, "Can I stay here for a little while, at least until the wolves back off?"

"Sure, stay as long as you like." Felix and Monique are not going to believe this.

"…I mean, what kind of perv would do such a thing? Pictures like that just feed the sicko minds out there" continued Kim's rant. Kim had transitioned from shock and grief to anger and fury.

You do not want to get this girl mad, Ron ole boy. Whoever wrote that hell hath no fury must have put Kim Possible's picture beside the quote.

After a lunch of gourmet BLT sandwiches and homemade vegetable chips, a much calmer Kim sat beside Ron on the couch. "Can I ask you a couple of questions, Kim? Several months ago when you took me to your parents house, you remember, and I met your fiancé?"

"Oh Ron, I'm so sorry. Brick and I were introduced at some baseball…"

"football?"

"…whatever game he plays. Someone thought it'd be a good PR move to have a star quarterback going out with me, so we went out on some public dates for several months. He can be pleasant in his own way, but it was his idea to bring up the M word at a press conference, out of the blue. I was too shocked to say anything at the time, and was actually planning to break up with him shortly after I met you at Smarty Mart. Then he showed up at my parents' house like that. Dad likes getting free tickets, but Mom couldn't understand why I was attracted to him. Neither could I, so I told him I was breaking off the engagement which I never agreed to anyway, and he said, 'OK, dudette, whatever, like check ya later.' I haven't seen him since. Rumors are he's dating one of the Omelet cheerleaders named Bonnie. I felt too humiliated and embarrassed to call you; I didn't think you'd ever want to see me again."

"I understand." Well, not really, but she's here now. "Second question, Kim. I saw what you did to those goons in the park. Why aren't you in on the action with all this crime stuff you do? I mean, you can outsmart and outfight any whacko villain. Seems like these Global Justice jerks only want to use you as eye candy for their own public image."

"They told me it had something to do with liability insurance. But you're right, Ron. I do feel used, sort of. Do you really think I could do one of those missions on my own? I have an idea." Kim dialed her special GJ communicator.

"What's the sitch, Kim?" It was Wade.

"Anything going on in the international criminal world today?"

"Rumors are that Dr. Drakken is hiding out in some abandoned Smarty-Mart building after the new Super Smarty-Mart was built in Middleton, and he's working on an inanimate bio-matter revitalizer mind control ray dispenser. Agent Du is supposed to check into the story this weekend."

"Wade, I'd like to handle this one on my own."

"Right. You know that's against agency procedures."

"Wade, pweeze." And she puffed out her lower lip into a quivering frown. Ron was shocked, thought mygosh, this woman has the heart of an assassin.

"Agh. Don't look at me like that. OK, OK, I'll fix it up for you. We have to keep this out of the loop, though. Mind if my Mom drives you there?"

"I drive my own Porsche, Wade. I think I can manage."

"Right. Another thing. You can't go by yourself. Who's your backup?"

"A new trainee, Ron Stoppable." A bowl of homemade vegetable chips fell on the floor.

"One last question, Wade. What does this inanimate biomatter ray thing do?"

"Ever read Mary Shelley?"

"I saw Gene Wilder's Young Frankenstein," volunteered Ron.

"Close enough."

"OK, so how do we get in?" Ron and Kim had their backs to the wall, near an abandoned Smarty Mart Lube Service entry.

"Well, usually Agent Du and his guys already have a hole blasted through a wall before I make my grand entrance."

"Wait, I wonder. If they're as cheap with their new expansion buildings as they are with their products, this just might work."

"Ron, what are you talking about?"

"Keys! I have a master entry key to the Super Smarty Mart. I wonder if it will work on these old door locks." Click, turn. "We're in."

"Nice move, Glo-Fish Boy."

"Kim, this Drakken guy, if he's as whacked out and dangerous as you describe him, then why haven't I heard much about him before? I mean, I taped all twelve of your infomercials—uh, not that I have them memorized," which I do, "but I don't recall anything about a Drakken or a Shego."

"That's so sweet, Ron. Which one is your favorite?" Focus, Kim, get your head in the game. "About Drakken, well, what you see on TV are the times we win. GJ doesn't advertise all the times Drakken has kicked Agent Will Du's butt. We might keep him running from lair to lair, but we tend to keep a low profile when it comes to Dr. Drakken and Shego."

"Great, now you tell me." He sensed Kim's hesitancy. "You can do anything, Kim; I believe in you. So let's do some mad scientist smack down," he whispered.

She looked back at Ron with an appreciative smile. Where have you been all my life, Ron Stoppable?

They emerged into a large makeshift laboratory. On one side stood a large, six-foot tall laser machine that looked like something her younger twin brothers used to make out of Leggos when they were still infants. On the other side there appeared to be a kitchenette. A frozen chicken was thawing on the counter. And there at the sink stood Dr. Drakken.

"You're under arrest, Dr. Drakken. We're taking this Inanimate Biomatter Revitalizer Mind Control thingy back to Global Justice headquarters, and you're coming with us."

Drakken turned around. "Who are, where's that idiot Agent Du and the rest of his buffoons? I don't have time for this. Shego!"

Behind them, there stood on a catwalk near one of Drakken's strange inventions a strikingly beautiful woman with a sweep of raven black hair that rivaled Kim's. She wore a green and black spandex body suit, and a rather nasty grin. "If it isn't the kinky princess sidekick and, what, now you have your own sidekick? That's just too precious." She lightly jumped 15 feet down to the floor level and began to slowly stalk the two intruders.

"Of course, you're Kim Possible," said Drakken.

"Stop! This is wrong. You are so not getting away with this, Mr., Dr., whatever you are, Drakken!"

Drakken, Shego, and Kim all turned to look at Ron, his hands clenched in furious indignation.

Ron walked towards Drakken and shoved him out of the way. "First off, dude, you never ever thaw poultry on a counter at room temperature. Can you say SAL MON EL LA? Geez, don't you ever watch the food channel? Second," Ron noticed a bowl of milk, then another bowl of flour and spices, "you should use buttermilk instead of regular milk for coating fried chicken. Buttermilk has much better viscosity and keeps the batter on the chicken."

"Hmm, I never thought about that," said Drakken. "I should probably send out one of my henchmen to get another fresh poultry corpse."

"Third," Ron continued, "I note that you've already put paprika in your flour mix. You should liberally coat the chicken parts with spice flavorings, and then add the flour. Otherwise, the paprika will burn in the oil."

"I should've known that," said Drakken, slapping his forehead. "Do you think I'm using too much pepper?"

"DRAKKEN!"

"RON!"

"Get your head in the game," Shego and Kim yelled simultaneously. A moment of mutual frustration passed as they caught each other's eyes. Men!

"And fourth," said Ron, not to be dissuaded, "creating little fried chicken zombies to rule the world is just sick and wrong."

"The chicken is for my supper, you buffoon," growled Drakken. "But you and your girlfriend will be perfect specimens for my Inanimate Bio—oh, whatever—when Shego's through with you. Henchmen, get them!"

Kim launched an immediate assault on Shego, getting in several wicked chops before sending her sprawling across the concrete floor with a flying kick to the chest.

Shego slowly got up, her fists glowing green. "So, the starlet wants to play with the big boys," she hissed as she launched her own counter-attack.

Ron saw four large and vaguely familiar thug-like henchmen approach. He ran, jumping and diving between, through, and around kitchen appliances and Drakken's machines, infuriating the slower henchmen. Finally he tripped over a microwave cord and knocked the chicken and the other cooking condiments onto the floor. The henchmen fell down themselves, slipping in the chicken fixings goo. "Kim, help!"

To her surprise, Kim had been more than holding her own against Shego, red welts starting to form on Shego's minty green complexion. Ron's cry distracted Kim for a split second, enough time for Shego to finally land her own kick that sent Kim crashing into a box of sporks.

A vague plan formed in Ron's head. He reached for the chicken, yelled, "Kim, the zombie gadget, catch," and launched a perfect poultry spiral towards Drakken's machine.

Kim instinctively knew what Ron had in mind, and dashed towards the arching chicken like a wide receiver along the sidelines.

"Stop her. Don't let that chicken carcass near the Inanimate—grrr—zombie machine," screamed Drakken.

Kim pulled in the chicken, then tossed it high above the zombie machine. Shego aimed a full blast of green plasma energy towards the chicken. "No, Shego," Drakken yelled.

It exploded into a thousand pieces of half thawed chicken bits and slime, splattering Shego, Drakken, his henchmen, and especially the inanimate biomatter revitalizer mind control ray dispenser. Soon the machine started making strange metallic pops and internal explosions; smoke started pouring from several vents. And the smell…

From outside, they heard a loudspeaker voice, "This is Agent Will Du from Global Justice. You're surrounded. Come out with your hands up." Oy vey, thought Shego.

"Shego, if you don't mind," said Drakken. She obligingly blew a hole in the roof, and as they flew away in his hover craft, he yelled, "You think you're all that, Kim Possible, but you're not. Same for you, whatever your name is."

Ron looked at Kim, chicken fragments splattered in her hair. "You won, Kim. You beat him," he said, and then pulled her into a warm embrace and a congratulatory kiss—

—a kiss that seemed to last much longer than was necessary for mere congratulations, thought a very pleased Global Justice agent, not that she minded.

It had been a good day. For the first time in months, Kim felt the combination of adrenaline rush and sense of well-being like she had experienced with Ron on their walk through the park. He made her feel like she really could do anything. It was a nice surprise to meet someone besides her parents who encouraged her and who wanted what was best for her. Ron was right. Much of her life she had been the eye candy for someone else: Global Justice, Brick Flagg, Smarty Mart.

Later that evening, she heard Ron rummaging around his bedroom as she watched the local news. "Earlier this afternoon, Global Justice hero, Will Du, single-handedly drove off the infamous techno-terrorist who goes by Dr. Drakken. A zombie mind machine was found inside an abandoned Smarty Mart. Agent Du had no explanation for why tiny chicken particles were scattered throughout the inside of the building. No other individuals were found on the premises…"

Ron came into the living room carrying a sleeping bag, pillow, and an old, threadbare hockey jersey. He was wearing the sweats and t-shirt he had on that morning. "Sorry, I don't have much in the way of spare pajamas for women. You can have this old jersey if you'd like. I changed the sheets on the bed, so the bedroom's all yours. I had fun today, Kim. Terrifying at times, but fun."

She smiled, kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks Ron. Good night." She shut his door.

An hour later, he was still wide-awake on the couch. His body was sore and sleep deprived, but his mind would not stop thinking about the person sleeping in his bed just 30 feet away. Felix's conversation kept repeating itself: what part of untouchable do you not understand? So she's not engaged anymore; that doesn't change anything else. He heard his bedroom door open, light footsteps getting nearer. She stood beside his couch wearing his old jersey. She took his hand and led him back to the bedroom.

"Now, just so there's no misunderstanding," Kim said, "I just want you to hold me. I don't know why, but I need to feel you close to me tonight. But no extra-curricular hand wandering." At least, not yet. "Arms, shoulders, back, and waist on the outside of the shirt are OK. Anywhere else, and you get a kung-fu tutorial. Comprende?"

Ron nodded as they cuddled together under his blankets. Then with an evil gleam in his eyes, he looked down at Kim, and in a voice imitating Drakken's, said, "You think you're all that, Kim—uh Kim, what's your full name?"

"Kimberly Anne Possible."

"You think you're all that, Kimberly Anne Possible, but you're no match for my…Tickle Fingers of Doom."

"You are so not. Don't even think…." Shrieks and giggles erupted from inside the bedroom. There was a loud thump on the floor, and Ron gasping for help. Then some quieter "thank you" and "congratulations" type sounds.

Ron held her gently around her waist, her arms and hands and fingers entwined around his. He was snoring. Kim turned slightly in his arms, looked at the blond whiskers on his face and whispered "I think I'm falling in love with you, Ron Stoppable."

Later in the night Ron went to the bathroom, then returned, crawling under the covers. He raised his head slightly, looking down at Kim snoring quietly, her face framed by that glorious red hair. "Back atcha, KP," he whispered. Did she just smirk at me in her sleep?

Ron's eyes suddenly opened. The smoke alarm in the kitchen was blaring, and then stopped. Kim walked into the bedroom carrying a tray with something that vaguely resembled a cross between toast and charcoal and a cup of coffee, or was that Pennzoil 10W-40? She was clearly pleased with herself for putting out the fire quickly before there was any real damage. Ron forced a grin and ate his breakfast in bed, the bravest thing he'd done in the past 24 hours. While he was eating, Kim described the itinerary of activities she'd like to do with him. She suddenly stopped, and asked in a tone that turned his coffee into ice, "what's that camera device on top of your computer?"

"Oh, that's a live webcam that…my friend…Felix." Oh no.

Ron remembered seeing a documentary on the Krakatoa volcano blowing up over a century ago. That was nothing compared to the volcano he knew was about to explode in Middleton in 5 seconds…

First there was a cobra like kick that sent the webcam shattering through his window. Then…

"How could you," she screamed. "I trusted you."

"Kim, please, it's not what you think. Let me explain."

"Shut up! You lure me here, then trick me. Ohmygosh! This will make me look like some American Pie bimbo wannabe."

"Kim, even if there was a recording, I doubt anyone would remember."

"Four words, Ron. You. Tube. Dot. Com. They'll remember all right. My career is ruined."

"Nothing happened, Kim." She jerked her head and looked at Ron closely. "In the grand scheme of things…"

"That's right, Ron," she said very precisely and coldly. "Nothing happened. And maybe in your little pathetic Smarty Mart scheme of things, you scored big time. But in my world, Ron, image is everything."

She dialed her communicator. "Wade, something horrible's happened. Can you do some damage control and get me out of this dump?"

"I'll see what I can do, Kim."

She stormed into the bathroom and reemerged moments later, fully dressed, including sunglasses and baseball cap. A black Mercedes with GJ painted on the hood pulled into the parking lot. There was a knock on the door.

"Kim, I'm so sorry. The 'nothing happened,' that's not what I meant. Please don't go. Not like this."

The painful lump that had formed in the pit of her stomach now moved to her throat. She couldn't look at him directly. A tear formed in the corner of her eye.

"Good bye, Mr. Hays," then she walked out the door.

And he slides into the home base of Stupidville. Way to go, Stoppable.

"I tried to warn you, buddy. She's like this high-intensity bug zapper, and you're just another bug that got zapped."

"Thanks, Felix. Could you stomp on the remains of my ego some more? There's still a little pain left."

"That's what I'm here for."

"No, you're right. It's time for the Ron Man to get a grip, make some changes. I have to be at Smarty-Mart in a few minutes. Can we meet for lunch and talk?"

"You bet, buddy. We're here for you."

Ron was restocking Buffalo Biscuits on pet aisle #93. A flash of red caught his eye. He ignored it.

"Ron, can we talk?"

He turned around. "Hello, Ms. Possible. How can I help you?"

"I said some really horrible things to you. I just came by to apologize, and give you this."

He opened the package, seemed puzzled.

"You had a picture of one taped in your room."

"Thanks."

"Do you think, maybe, we could…"

"Look Kim, you were right. I'm just a two-bit underemployed loser who gets a 1 percent commission on Buffalo Biscuits; you could buy the state of Montana. I rent videos; you make them. I buy clothes from Smarty Mart; you have your own negligee line. We live in two different worlds. I don't think I can survive getting zapped again by a bug light."

"I don't get that bug part," Kim said. "But the fame thing, it's not really real. After all…"

DVD: "…I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her."

Sniff. This is my favorite part, sobbed Kim, dabbing her eyes.

Ron felt a huge drop of salty(?) water fall on his head. What the…? The maintenance crew needs to fix the roof.

"It's OK, Ron. I understand. You're a good friend. Goodbye. Take care of yourself."

"…And then she said some schmaltzy bit about her being a girl, asking me to love her. Then she left." Ron stuffed a burrito in his mouth during his lunch break at the Bueno Nacho counter at Smarty Mart.

"I think it was beautiful," sobbed Monique.

"What's in the bag," Felix asked.

Ron lifted up a cage. Inside was a tiny, pink, wrinkled, buck toothed naked mole rat.

"My gosh, what is that freaky thing?"

"A naked mole rat."

"What, pray tell, would possess any sane person to give one of those things to someone?"

"I have a picture of one in my room. I've been kinda wanting a mole rat for awhile."

"So she bought you one. Nothing says 'I love you' quite like the gift of a naked mole rat."

"What would happen if you did get together with her," Monique asked.

"Well, I'd probably have to travel to exotic places all over the world, give up my job at Smarty Mart, break the lease on our apartment, cook all the time to preserve my health."

"And that's bad because..." said Monique.

Ron pounded his head on the counter. "Oh, no. I just did something incredibly stupid again, didn't I?" He thought he heard a tiny "uh, huh" squeak from the naked mole rat cage.

"Look," said Monique, pointing at an overhead TV monitor. A press conference would be held by Kim Possible in the lobby of Global Justice headquarters in Middleton concerning rumors of her resignation. The meeting would start at 12:45. It was 12:44.

Ron made a decision. "Felix, can you take care of, uh, Rufus, for awhile?"

"Sure. Who's Rufus?"

"The naked mole rat." He started running toward the exit.

"Stoppable! Where do you think you're going? I want you to clean up after the bison in the back storage room."

"Sorry, Mr. Barkin. I quit." Ron tore off his Smarty Mart vest. "I gotta see about a girl."

The little twerp stole that line, thought Barkin. Wrong movie, but a good line.

"Ms. Possible, is it true that you will be leaving Global Justice at the end the week?"

"Technically, I will be leaving at the end of the next month, but since I've accrued 48 days of vacation comp time, my active duties will end effectively today."

"Is there any truth to the rumors you were in the American Pie films?"

"No comment. Next question."

"What are your future plans?"

"I may return to Cambridge to work on a Ph.D. in bio-matter rejuvenation. Then, who knows? Next question."

At that moment, Ron arrived breathless to the press conference.

Another reporter said, "Ms. Possible, there have been reports of a passionate relationship you had with an assistant pet manager from Smarty Mart. Any chance that you'd reconsider your plans if he threw himself at your feet and begged you to stay?"

"No. Final question."

Ron desperately jumped up and down, waving his hand so she'd notice it in the back of the crowd of reporters.

"You, in the back."

Ron realized everyone was looking at him. Kim was staring at him. He asked, "If this certain really stupid Smarty Mart manager told you he was desperately in love with you, would you reconsider and stay?"

"Not a chance."

Ron waved his hand again.

"OK, one follow-up question."

"Ms. Possible, what if this really really stupid Smarty Mart manager was willing to quit his job and go all over the world with you and cook you gourmet meals and daily remind you what a badical kung fu maestro you are, then what would you do?"

"Are the tickle fingers of doom included in the deal?"

"Absolutely."

"In that case…" Kim stood up, walked across the room to Ron, grabbed his face between her two hands, and pulled him into a kiss so hard and so long he thought his freckles would melt off. Booyah! He also thought he heard someone singing, "Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears, and make them all my souvenirs…"

DVD: "…For where she goes I've got to be, the meaning of my life is She."

Ron opened his eyes. "Good movie, KP."

"So the liar. You slept through the whole thing. What were you dreaming about, or should I ask, who? That was a pretty big grin on your face just now."

"Oh, nothing," said Ron as he rotated 180 degrees towards the back of the couch and faced Kim's bare midriff.

"Pwetty pweeze, Wonnykins," her lower lip quivering, puppy-like. "You know you're going to tell me."

An evil gleam appeared in his eyes. In his best Dr. Drakken voice, Ron said, "You think you're all that, Kimberly Anne Possible, but you're no match for my…Flubber Lips of Doom."

"You are so not. Don't even think…"

Dr. Anne Possible heard shrieks and giggles erupt from the living room, then a loud thump and Ron gasping for help. She went to the living room, and saw the silhouette of her daughter lip locked with her boyfriend, both now making other, quieter noises. She smiled and walked back upstairs, humming an Elvis Costello tune.