Phineas and Ferb sat in their backyard. They were thinking of things, and they were thinking hard. Perry was with them; he didn't do much. He dozed, and chattered, and such and such. But he was perfectly happy, sleeping quite soundly, while his owners were busy thinking profoundly. What should today's activity be? This thought they pondered from under their tree.

"I really can't think of we should do. I hope something comes up out of the blue." Phineas said, searching for thoughts inside his triangular head. "Hey! That rhymed! That's quite exciting. In fact…it's close to completely delighting." Now that he'd found his own inspiration, he voiced his idea with lots of elation. "Bro, I've got it! And I know what to say: Ferb, I know what we're gonna do today. Let's speak in rhymes! It'll be neat! And if all goes well, it'll be such a treat—funny, annoying and rather unique. Veritable havoc, that's what we'll wreak!"

Ferb didn't think 'havoc' was what they'd create. Though Candace might argue; she'd get irate. Whether they'd cause havoc or not, it'd certainly make for an interesting plot. And though it seemed like taxing hard work, having fun doing so was always a perk. "And what about others? Will they do this too? If the answer is no, I'll bid you adieu."

But when he thought about it, people always complied. He supposed they liked going along for the ride.

"Of course they will! There shouldn't be doubt. They'll follow along—why would they opt out? They spoke our own language and played with our toy. You know, I'd like to think that we're spreading joy. I suppose you've agreed, as you followed my lead. So let's get cracking, 'cause I'm feeling merry. And then we can decide to—hey, where's Perry?"


Perry'd snuck away, going into the house. He searched rapidly and found the hole of a mouse. He looked in on the resident, who was nibbling some cheese. The mouse then abandoned it with no little ease. As a fellow agent, it gave Perry a nod. It turned to a button, and gave it a prod. A hole appeared beneath Perry's feet; he dropped down the entrance, which was very discrete. Agent M closed it up once Perry went through. There was no entrance as far as the family knew.

Perry fell onto his seat in his big, spacious lair. He looked up at Monogram from his comfortable chair.

"Ah, there you are, Agent P. We've got you a mission. Doofenshmirtz has a strange sort of ambition. He wants everyone rhyming for reasons unclear. The reasons aren't good: that's what I fear. He's bought every Doctor Seuss book he's been able to find. So here's the mission you're being assigned. Put a stop to it, for here's what I've found: I'm rhyming, Carl's rhyming, there's rhyming abound!"

Carl appeared from Monogram's right. He confirmed that he, too, was suffering this plight. "He's right, Agent P, and it's really bizarre! I haven't been able to not rhyme so far."

Perry saluted, ready for action. He wouldn't suffer any distraction.

He was blown out of his seat, whooshing into the air. His hang-glider unfolded with minimal flair. Swooping and swerving to his known destination, he head the jingle of Doodfenshmirtz's vocation. Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporateeeed! He dove into the building; he was awaited. His hang-glider, abandoned, sailed away from the roof. He looked at Doofenshmirtz, now seeming aloof.

"Ah, Perry the platypus, don't you just enthral. And by saying that, I mean you don't at all. You've noticed the rhyming, huh? That was my doing. Seems like you were a little late with all your pursuing! But now there'll be a pause in this chat, as I catch you like the Cat in the Hat!" A trap sprung up from under the ground. Perry was stuck in a hat, he now found. "And the cause of it all? It's this nifty thing! Oooh, all this success, I feel like a king. Perry the Platypus, don't be a hater. For now I present the Rhyme-inator!"

He spread his arms wide, directed at his invention. Perry wasn't feeling much comprehension. It was candy-cane coloured, all white and red stripes. A laser, of sorts, jumbled with pipes. A stack of kid's books sat next to the thing. They were fed to the laser with the pipes and a 'ding'.

"You see, ever since I was a little boy, I've loved Dr Seuss. But you know how much I suffered abuse! I'd never be allowed to read any books. My father always said 'Those are for schnooks.' But now everyone will speak as if they were him! It'll stop the world from being so grim." He turned to face the machine he had made. And continuing talking, there he then stayed.


Isabella walked in and said, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Just going through the plan we've been brewing."

"Hey, Phineas, that rhymed! Was that what you intended?"

"We're rhyming all day; isn't that splendid?"

"All day? Really? How 'bout I say orange?"

"Have you ever visited somewhere called Blorenge? It's a place in Wales, really quite nice. Phineas and I have been there now twice."

Phineas smiled at his brother for the support and the aid. Otherwise, away from rhyming he might have then strayed.

He wondered about where others were at. He was sure that they'd enhance this little chat. "Baljeet and Buford—do you know where they are?"

"I reckon that those two can't be too far." Isabella grinned and felt pride at her skill. It's like the rhymes came without any will.

Before the two came, someone else then appeared. Her face darkened as soon as she neared.

"Sis, glad we could see you! You'll double the fun, that's sure to be true."

"Hey, cut that out. Though it isn't a crime, it's weird that you're suddenly speaking in—…"

"Rhyme? Yeah, I think it's amusing!"

"What, it's a new interest you've started perusing?" Candace was puzzled. Why was she helping? She's meant to be busting. For mom, she'd be yelping. But she now knew the drill, the way things would go—she'd be so frustrated she'd want to yell "No!" She'd drag her mom home, ignore the protesting, but nothing would be there; mom would be jesting. She'd tease her about being imaginative—urk! That really drove Candace completely berserk.

But now she was rhyming; it was incessant and strange. That was something she'd just have to change.


Perry tried to squirm his way free. He wondered what escape there could be. Then he remembered something he'd brought, and looked in his fur for the thing that he sought. He pulled out some scissors—safely, of course—and cut out his way without any remorse.

When he jumped free, he was in fighting position. Doofenshmirtz continued without any remission. "So much nonsense and fun he would include—like Sneetches and Sneggs and…and free finger food!"

The punch to his back took him quite by surprise; he fell and turned to Perry and begun to chastise.

"Ow, Perry the Platypus! Don't you do that! And how did you manage getting out of the hat?" Perry didn't respond, instead raising a fist. Doofenshmirtz wanted him to desist. "This isn't that eeevil, must you keep hitting? Wouldn't a compromise be so much more fitting?"

The platypus was unsure, and his arm fell to his side. This change was unusual and threw him off of his stride. Doofenshmirtz got to his feet, happy he wouldn't have to retreat.

"Hah! No way I'm stopping! Now I'm up again, I'll give you a whopping!"


"Silver!" Candace shouted to make Phineas stop.

"Maybe Buford and 'Jeet have gone to a shop."

"Hah!" she cried, triumphant and proud. "You weren't rhyming!" she wrongly vowed.

"I guess you could say that, but this goes beyond speech. If not in dialogue, in description you reach. You reach for a rhyme and you find one to use. Once you've got that, you have nothing to lose! Here, I'll show you," Phineas said. "My hair colour's a very bright red."

"I don't get it. What are you saying? That there's a description you're somehow conveying?" Candace fumed. She'd done it again! She'd definitely stop it; she'd stop it right then.

"Well—never mind. Can we go find the others? We promise we'll be really good brothers."

"And friend of brothers!" Isabella chimed in. She looked at Candace with a very sweet grin.

"Yeah, whatever, but I have busting to do. You stay nearby so I can show mom all of you."

"Sure thing!" Phineas said, racing out past the house.

Candace went inside and grabbed her mom by the blouse. "Mom! Mom! It's Phineas and Ferb! Come on, come see, they're just past the curb!"

"Oh, Candace, this is the strangest thing. This live show I'm watching, it's called How Well Can You Sing? Not that that's strange—here's the weird part. Their speech started rhyming—isn't that smart?"

"Oh, no, you're under their spell?! I wish all this rhyming would just say farewell!"

"A rhyme can't say that."

"You know what I mean!"

"Of course I do, but I'm not as keen. I think it's quite fun. I don't really want it to disappear and be done."


Perry flew across the room from the force of the blow. Evil or not, that machine would just have to go. He pounced and grabbed onto Doofenshmirtz's lab coat—and just before he would have started to gloat…

"Oh, get off!" he shouted whilst flailing an arm. "Or else you'll come to some serious harm!"

Perry instead punched him and jumped far away. Doofenshmirtz hit his Inator to his own dismay. He tried to get up but kept falling back. He really had difficulty getting on track. Finally he managed, with the aid of a lever. That turned out to be not all that clever. The machine started spitting out books all over the room. One hit Doofenshmirtz in the face, much to his doom. It gave Perry the chance to leap onto the machine. A big red button stood out: there was only one thing it could mean!

"Oh no you don't!" Doofenshmirtz said, but it was too late. Perry pushed it, ready to leave Doof to his fate. His hang-glider, retrieved, flew into his hands, but seeing the Inator scuppered his plans.

"I've changed the self-destruct mode!" Doofenshmirtz begun to explain. "It takes a while, so I'll get away and suffer no pain!"

Perry chattered in a questioning tone.

"It takes…something like…" He let out a groan. "Was it one minute or two? Or less or much more? An hour, a day, or closer to four?"

He continued to question and Perry decided to leave. Doofenshmirtz would stay there; he was that naive…

He was high in the air when he heard stuff explode. Doof would have to work on that self-destruct mode…

Candace had found Phineas and the rest. Her mood could be described as 'furious' at best. "All right, you guys, you've all done enough!"

"Come on, Candace, don't be so gruff."

"And we have not had quite the same chance…" Baljeet said, giving Buford a glance.

"I don't care. Stop rhyming," she said, feeling mad. After all them, and mom, enough, she had had.

Isabella told her, "You're doing it too."

"I'm not!"

"You are."

"I didn't! That's you!" Candace face palmed in her stupidity. This rhyming had way too much fluidity.

"Maybe we should cool off with some snacks? That would give Candace a chance to relax."

Linda emerged, and heard what she said. "That sounds great, Isabella!"

Candace saw red. She refused the offer of pie and ice tea, instead sitting down beneath the shade of the tree. Eventually, she stopped whining. "Oh, there you are, Perry," she said while reclining. "Rhyming sucks."


This fic was inspired by Draco and Harry's Affair: The Poetic Version by faithwood. I hope you enjoyed it! It took a lot of time to write. Besides the fact that I lifted out an exchange from Horrible Histories ("Well, I think it's silly." "You're doing it no." "I'm not!" "You are." "I didn't! That's you!" specifically).