I do not own any Kim Possible characters, nor do I own the Illinois State Fair, or any of the attractions therein.

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Evil Mama

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Drakken was sitting in his favorite chair, engrossed in the finer details of a schematic sent to him by the goofs from Area 51; they were having difficulty figuring out the circuitry of a particular piece of Lorwardian technology, and Drakken couldn't help but laugh at their ineptitude. The fact that they were calling on him to help was a sure sign that they were at the end of their rope, and the knowledge delighted him—especially since it had taken him mere minutes to comprehend what top government scientists had been wracking their brains over for a month.

He would share his knowledge, of course, but not immediately; though it would be great fun to embarrass the other scientists with a quick reply, he thought it would be more fun to make them sweat for a bit. Besides, he was mesmerized by the complex beauty of the alien design, and he wanted to take a while to drink it in.

Just then the intruder alert went off, surprising Drakken so much that he leapt out of the chair and dove under the nearest worktable.

"Jeez, Dr. D! One little alien invasion and you're jumpier than a Chihuahua on crack," Shego mocked as she sauntered into the room. Giving the monitors the once over, she announced, "It's your mother."

"Which is every bit as bad as an alien invasion," he grumbled as he picked himself up and smoothed the wrinkles from his coat. "Get the door, would you please? Shego?" He looked around the room to see that his green sidekick had already beaten a hasty retreat. "Nice to know you have my back, Shego!" he yelled with no small amount of sarcasm as he stomped across the room.

Putting on his best I'm-So-Happy-To-See-You face, he whipped open the door and gave a saccharine smile to the short, orange-haired woman standing on his doorstep. "Mother! How nice to see you! How on earth did you get here? We're on a mountain in the Alps--its not like you can just take a cab."

"I'm a very resourceful woman, Drewbie," Mama Lipsky replied proudly before giving her blue son a stern look. "Now, are you going to let me in, or do you want your mother to turn into a human popsicle?"

"Oh! I'm sorry mother, please come in," Drakken said, hastily stepping aside to grant his mother admittance to the lair.

"Thank you, Drewbie," she said warmly as she came in from the cold. "Be a dear and bring my bags, would you?"

"Bags? You're—you're staying?" He didn't like the sound of that. His maximum tolerance for his well-meaning but smothering parent was a few hours at best, and the rather large collection of suitcases and shopping bags—and a cooler, of all things--did not bode well.

"Just for the day, honey."

"So why all the bags—and why the cooler?"

"It's a surprise."

"Wonderful," Drakken said under his breath as he collected the bags. Knowing his mother, the bags were probably full of wedding catalogues, or something equally nauseating, to be used as ammunition in her new quest to get the blue mad-scientist married off to his green assistant.

As if on cue, she asked, "So where's that pretty girlfriend of yours, Drewbie?"

"She's not my girlfriend," he grumbled as he propelled the cooler across the floor with his foot. Though he knew it was useless to point that out, he felt he should at least put up at least a token resistance.

"Of course she is. You just haven't figured it out yet." She grinned at the exasperated groan from her son; the poor boy really was oblivious when it came to women. "But that's not what I'm here to chat about."

"Really?" Drakken asked hopefully, child-like curiosity replacing his trepidation regarding the contents of the bags. "So what's in the bags? Have you been knitting? Did you make any potholders? We could use some--Shego incinerated the oven mitts last week when she got frustrated with her latest attempt at cooking."

"Actually, I did knit a few things, and I believe there's a potholder or two in there." Unzipping her parka, she looked around for a place to put it. One of the many mutant plants that grew wildly in the lair extended an accomodating vine. "Why, thank you dear," she said, draping her parka over the offered bough. Turning to her son, she smiled. "Why don't we take these things into the kitchen and have a nice cup of tea?"

"So, Mama Lipsky, what's in the cooler?" Shego, unable to resist the pull of a good cup of tea, had come out of hiding to join them around the kitchen table. She leaned over and poked the cooler with the toe of her boot. "Did you bring us a severed head or something?"

"Shego!" Drakken reprimanded, utterly scandalized. "Don't be ridiculous! Mother would never do such a thing as bring me a severed head!"

"Actually, Drewbie, I did," his mother said oh-so-casually.

"You WHAT?" Drakken and Shego shrieked in unison.

Mama Lipsky simply beamed and opened the cooler, pulling out a large, clear plastic bag that contained a misshapen, yellow object, but what is was could not easily be identified. Placing the bag in the center of the table, she opened it, revealing the head of a cow—made entirely out of butter.

Drakken was speechless. Shego was not.

"What in the hell is that?"

"Well, honey, this is the head of the Butter Cow from the Illinois State Fair."

Shego blinked, momentarily unable to process what she had just heard. "The head of a Butter Cow? What's a Butter Cow?"

"Butter Cow," Drakken repeated in a daze, as if he had never heard the words used in that particular order before.

Mama Lipsky picked up her tea and settled back comfortably. "A butter cow is a sculpture of a cow carved out of butter. For some reason, it's a popular attraction at the State Fairs in the midwest."

"Okaaaay," Shego said slowly. "Why do you have it?"

"Yes, Mother, why did you bring the severed head of a State Fair attraction?" Drakken demanded to know.

"Well, Drewbie, I've been doing some thinking about that discussion we had about you being evil--"

"I can't help being evil, Mother!" He didn't want to be reminded of the long, hysterical lecture that was the 'conversation' they'd had about his Evil Genius status. For some reason, it never crossed his mind that his mother would actually see any of the world-wide media coverage that resulted from a little thing like saving the world, and it came as quite a shock when she had called him in the middle of the night and proceeded to melt the phone line with her enraged ranting.

"It's not polite to interrupt, young man," she scolded. "As I was saying, I've been thinking, and I got to wondering if evil was really as much fun as you said."

Sinking down in his seat, the blue doctor's face flushed as he remembered the maternal wrath that had rained down on him when he'd protested, 'But, Mother! Evil is so much fun!'

"It is pretty fun," Shego agreed.

Mrs. Lipsky smiled brightly at her. "Precisely why I decided to try it." She waited for the two of them to pick up their dropped jaws before she continued. "So the girls and I hijacked the Bingo Bus and went on a little road trip."

"Really?" Shego asked in surprise. Mrs. Lipsky nodded. Shego leaned across the table and gave the older woman a gleeful high-five. "You go, Mama Lipsky! I didn't know you had it in you!"

"Neither did I," Drakken said, dumbfounded.

"And you were right, Drewbie! It was fun! I haven't been on a road-trip since I was… well, I've never been on a road-trip, now that I think of it. We drove cross-country and visited all of the places we've always wanted to see--and a few we didn't know existed. Have you been to St. Louis, Drewbie? The bowling hall of fame is there! Anyway," she continued, never allowing him time to reply, "I thought it would be fun to steal a souvenier from every city we stopped in, and we got some lovely things. I wanted to steal something from the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library, but security was too tight. So, since the State Fair was going on and all, we decided to steal the butter cow instead. "

She sipped her tea and chuckled to herself, savoring the look of utter disbelief on her son's blue face. "But once we saw that it was life-size, we realized that it would be impossible to fit on the bus, let alone keep it cold enough to keep its shape, so we settled for the head. I thought you'd like it, knowing how much you like to bake. "

Drakken stared at the very life-like bovine head looking back at him with its blank, buttery eyes. "Um, thank you, Mother?"

"You're welcome, Drewbie, though I thought you'd be more impressed," she said pointedly.

"I sure am!" Shego said. "I mean, going evil on your own is one thing, but you talked a whole busload of grannies into going with you! That takes talent!"

"Thank you, dear. I was surprised at how easy it was; it seems that the girls were more than eager for a little excitement."

"I'll bet." Leaning forward on her elbows, Shego asked eagerly, "So how did you do it?"

"That's what I would like to know," Drakken agreed. Visions of ninja-grannies attacking security guards crowded his mind, which only made it more difficult to comprehend what he was hearing.

Mrs. Lipsky positively lit up with delight. "Oh, it was easy! We just waited until closing time, flooded the building with knockout gas, picked the lock to the display case, and cut off the head with a pocket laser. Then we put it in a cooler and just walked back to the bus." She took a sip of tea and chuckled to herself. "We told the State Troopers at the gate that we simply lost track of time at the quilting exhibit and then couldn't remember where we parked the bus. They let us right through."

"And where did you get knockout gas and a pocket laser?" Drakken asked, afraid he already knew the answer. His mother smiled serenely.

"I stole them from you on my last visit."

Covering his face with both hands, he sighed and looked at his mother between his fingers. "I knew it."

"Oh, don't look so upset, Drewbie. I'm afraid knockout gas is gone, but I brought the laser back."

"Wonderful," he said into his hands. "You can keep it."

"Why thank you, dear!"

Shego, meanwhile, was grinning like a maniac. She had a feeling that the tiny, overly-maternal Mama Lipsky had a little evil buried in her somewhere--Drakken had to have inherited more from her than the ability to rant and bake cookies, after all--but this was more than she had hoped for. Now if the older woman would actually dress the part...

"You know what, Mama Lipsky? You need an evil outfit. How about I take you shopping? What do you think of the Matron of Evil look?"

"Ooh! I like that! It's much better than the Bingo theme I had in mind. Where does one find evil clothing, anyway?"

"I have my sources," Shego said cryptically.

While Shego and Mama Lipsky planned out their shopping spree—or shoplifting spree, given the newly awakened criminal streak his mother was displaying—Drakken tried to get his brain to absorb the monumental news that his sweet, innocent mother was trying her hand at evil. Granted, it was a thoroughly bizarre brand of evil, but it was evil nonetheless.

My mother, he thought numbly. Evil. Mother and evil do not belong in the same sentence. Evil Mother. Evil Mama. Evil Mom. Nope. Doesn't work.

"Why?" he asked into his teacup. "Why cut the head off of a Butter Cow?"

"Its always an attention-getter when someone desecrates an icon, honey," Mrs. Lipsky said complacently. "Besides, it made the front page of the local paper. Look!" She reached into a bag and pulled out a newspaper bearing the headline HOLY COW! Underneath the bold letters was a picture of the headless cow sculpture surrounded by horrified Fair officials.

He took the paper from her and hastily read the article, stopping every so often to gaze at the picture; it got funnier every time he looked at it. Soon he was laughing out loud in sheer delight as he re-read the outraged quotes from Fair officials, Fair-goers, and even the governor.

Eager to see read the article herself, Shego snatched the newspaper from the doctor's gloved hands and began to read. Within minutes she was laughing just as hysterically as Drakken, who was already near tears.

"Mother, I am truly impressed," he managed to get out between gasps for air. "Random mayhem for it's own sake! I love it!" He leapt from his seat and threw his arms around his mother, lifting her from her chair in an enthusiastic hug.

"Thank you, dear," she croaked, finding it difficult to breathe in his crushing embrace.

Ha! Now she knows what her hugs are like, Drakken thought triumphantly before setting her back down. Suddenly he had a brilliant idea.

"Who wants toast?"

Both Shego and Mama Lipsky raised their hands. The mad scientist gleefully rubbed his hands together, bouncing up and down on the spot with unbridled enthusiasm.

"Prepare to meet your lightly toasted doom, butter cow! MUAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!"

"Now that's something I need to work on: my evil laugh," Mrs. Lipsky said. "Do you think you could teach me, Drewbie?"

"Sure," he said cheerfully, reaching for the bread. "If that's what you want. You know, I had no idea I got my evil streak from you, Mother. I always thought it came from Dad's side of the family."

"Well... you got most of it from your father. I'm just dabbling because I thought it might be a good way to 'bond' with you."

Drakken paused in the act of plugging in the toaster. "Bond with me? Why?"

"Well, you're always so busy with your evil plans, I never see my little boy anymore." She smiled sadly. "I thought that if I shared some of your interests, you'd have more time for me."

Ah, yes. The inevitable maternal guilt-trip. He had been wondering when she would drop one on him. Drakken abandoned the toast and knelt next to his mother. "I'm sorry, Mother. World domination is a time-consuming endeavor, and trying to keep it a secret from you made avoiding you a necessity."

"I know, dear."

"But, now that you know all about it, and now that I'm on hiatus from the world-domination game, I think we could set aside a few evil-outing nights a month."

Mama Lipsky brightened considerably at the news. "Really, Drewbie? That would be wonderful—but it can't be on bingo night. The girls wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I missed bingo."

Drakken smiled and kissed his mother on the forehead. "Yes, mother, I know bingo nights are sacred."

"So what do you suggest for the first evil outing?"

"I'd start with karaoke night," Shego said smugly. "You don't get more evil than karaoke."

"Oh, that would be lovely!" Mrs. Lipsky exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

"Karaoke night it is," Drakken declared with a quelling glance at Shego, who looked thoroughly appalled at the news.

"Wonderful!" Mama Lipsky sat back and smiled contentedly at her son and his sidekick. "Now, when can I expect my first grandchild?"

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Author's note:

One day I wondered what it would be like if my Grandma went evil. This was the worst thing I could imagine her doing. Also, I worked at the Illinois State Fair for several summers, and I was always amazed at how many people came just to see the Butter Cow.

Evil Geek