Waiting To Be Told. You know, 'cause I'm pretty sure the rest of the chorus is already taken (Except 'Dripping down your chin,' and I was not going to name it that).

Except this chapter. It did not want to be written. I would have had it up on the first if it wasn't for that... Either way, I hope everyone had an awesome April Fools' (and sorry if you didn't)!


From below, the maple tree in Phineas' and Ferb's backyard could be seen sporting a certain redheaded inventor in its branches. Ironically, his brother was nowhere in sight.

With a jolt, Phineas turned toward the camera and smiled brightly. "Hey, Isabella," he greeted, and the pink-clad girl giggled.

"Whatcha doin'?" She pondered, a bit confused, "...Up there, when Ferb's down here?"

"Take a closer look," Phineas instructed, and Isabella turned to the green-haired boy who sat unmoving at the tree's base. Her confusion only grew when she noticed his eyes were closed and he breathed in rhythmic silence. There was only one explanation: the boy was asleep.

"Yesterday's project must have really took it out of him," Phineas explained.


Ferb, in his brother's flashback, was shown running on a large hamster wheel-like contraption powering something ginormous and mechanical next to it. After a few seconds, he hopped off the wheel and met his friends in front of yesterday's project. "Alright, looks like we finally finished the world's largest, fastest treadmill!" Phineas had said, "Ferb, did you want to use it first?"


"In hindsight, maybe we could have had Buford go on it first. He was so eager," Phineas of the present realized.

"So, it's just us? I mean, I wouldn't want to wake him," Isabella asked.

"I guess so. Any ideas for what to do today?"

Isabella placed a hand to her chin and rolled her eyes in an act of thinking hard about something. "Well... What do you want to do?"

"I dunno." With this response, the two looked towards Ferb. Without him, it would be hard to pull off something completely impossible. That did not mean they were boredom-bound while he snoozed; they simply would have to find something different to do to Carpe this Diem.

Isabella grabbed onto some of the lower branches, hoisting herself up and into the plant. Phineas watched carefully as she maneuvered to the highest point.

From her perch near the top of the tree, Isabella could spot her good friends Buford and Baljeet approaching the house. With the intent to invite her crush higher, she swung her legs around the branch she was on and grabbed at a certain twig to keep her balance; in doing so, the twig clicked downwards and suddenly the branch lost all stability and gave way. Nothing underneath her, Isabella fell with a yelp to the lower section of the plant.

...Where none other than Phineas had taken residence. "I've got you!" He called, alert, moving as appropriate to catch her fall. She landed somewhat clumsily in his arms; the tree's strength kept them from collapsing to the ground.

Isabella made her way off Phineas's lap. "What was that about?" She wondered aloud.

"Um, we kinda forgot to take that trick branch down last April Fool's," explained Phineas. "So, sorry 'bout that."

"Oh, it's no problem..." Isabella began, the tease in her voice not quite hitting its mark. "But hey, there's a little something on your shirt there." With this, she pointed to the invisible mark to which she was referring, and he looked straight down to try to see anything over his nose. Inevitably, Isabella's finger flew upwards to knock him in said nose. "Dude, that's, like, the oldest trick in the book. I didn't know you were so gullible!"

"Are you kidding? I'm just about the most gullible person on the planet," Phineas admitted.

"No, I have you beat there," Isabella insisted. "Try me."

He withdrew a small package from one of his cargo pockets, opened it, and offered her its contents. "Gum?"

"Ooh, sure!" Isabella accepted giddily, opening the wrapper and inserting the stick. Then, she grimaced, removing it from her mouth as quickly as she put it in. "Blah, what is this, Play Batter? Why would you have that on you?"

"For emergency pranks, of course," he stated as if it could be common knowledge. Then he gasped. "Aha! I know what we're gonna do today."

He carefully maneuvered down to the ground, and Isabella followed. "Hey, where's Perry?" She asked.

"I cannot say," a grinning Baljeet agreed, shrugging open the gate and entering stage right, Buford on his tail. "So, what is the verdict today?"

Phineas did not hesitate. "Prank war!" He announced, pumping both fists in the air. No one noticed Ferb's absence.


Ready to fight evil, an anthropomorphic platypus in a fedora stood in the hallway of the second floor of his owners' house. He waddled down to the end of the hall, where a large bookshelf was. Making sure he was not being watched, he retrieved a story titled Perry's Lair from the bottom shelf. He began reading, becoming so engrossed in the book that he did not notice he had ended up in the place depicted in the title.

"Agent P, you made it," Major Monogram greeted, at which Perry jumped a bit and placed the book on his control panel. "We've received word that Dr. Doofenshmirtz has been collecting absurd amounts of swiss cheese, old socks, and other things notorious for being full of holes. Just like this plotline."

Instantly, a familiar ba-dum crash! was heard, and Monogram turned to face the source of the noise. "Carl," he scolded, "How clumsy are you that you can't go a day without walking into a drum set?"

"Sorry," came the off-screen reply.

Perry took the opportunity to exit via jetpack. "Why do we even have a drum set here?" Monogram questioned. "Is that just a thing in this town, that obscure musical instruments appear out of nowhere for the convenience of an improvised song or a short-lived gag?"


"Alright, Candace, we're here," Linda began, exiting the station wagon. Giddily, her daughter left the passenger side of the car, dressed in a loose-fitting dark pink t-shirt and white sweatpants. "Remember, this is just to see if you like the class."

"Of course I'll like it!" Candace insisted, eyeing the sign on the door of the building. "I'm obviously gonna need some training if I'm gonna bust the boys."

"Whatever you say, Candace."

The two opened the door, taking in pieces of the dojo at a time. A tall, somewhat dark-skinned man in traditional martial arts garb approached, his black belt not at all hidden by the folds of his gi. "Oh, hey, there. You must be the new girl," the sensei greeted in a disarming tone. "How are we doing?"

Candace quirked an eyebrow ever so slightly upwards. Nervously, she responded, "Uh, I'm good."

"That's good. Come on in and we'll start warming up in a few minutes." As Candace was ushered into the main area, her instructor stole a chance to talk with Linda about having the teen train there.

"Woah, it's all gym-y in here," Candace observed, looking about the room. The floor, which only supported bare feet, was covered almost entirely by mats. As were parts of the walls, which were lined with punching bags of various sizes arranged in an unkempt fashion.

One member of the dojo, a girl with a light brown braid running to about her shoulder blades and sporting a bright green belt - Candace noticed a black stripe along the middle of it - spotted her. "Hey, look, a new person," she began. Upon further inspection, Candace figured that the stranger had to be about seventeen, maybe eighteen years old. "Um, you're supposed to bow in, you know."

Not knowing how to respond to this, Candace muttered a confused "Uh..." and bowed as she had thought appropriate.

The other teenager laughed, then extended a hand. "Candace," she began, and the redhead was taken aback by how her name was known. "What's yours?"

Realizing that the gesture was actually an introduction, the younger one took the hand and stammered, "Oh, that's... Well, uh..." From the corner of her eye, she spotted another person by the far wall. "Oh my gosh, life just made so much more sense. Vanessa, hey!"

The end of Vanessa's brown belt, along with the high ponytail in which her hair was tied, flung in a 360-degree spin as the teen preformed a flawless spinning hook kick on a nearby punching bag, shaking it violently. Upon hearing her name, she turned towards the sound of the voice. "Oh, hey, Candace," she greeted, approaching, "I see you've met... Candace."

"Yeah, looks like there are two of us," the Flynn observed. "And my parents thought they were being original!" Then again, she had never met another Phineas before. "Up top."

"Um, sure?" The other Candace complied, and the two shared a high-five.

"Okay, let's put everything away and line up," the sensei instructed, walking in and signalling the start of class. The students, who had known what to do from experience, lined up next to each other at the front of the room in rank order, which was determined by the belts everyone wore. Candace, having not been given a uniform or belt, just followed her friend to the front of the line.

"Sure, I'll just... Fit in next to you," she said to herself, referring to Vanessa.

The instructor motioned for her to move to her rightful place at the end of the line, and after a few seconds Candace realized what the instruction was and followed it.

"Alright, everybody, let's bow in," the instructor began in the same friendly tone that had caught Candace off-guard earlier. She had expected the stereotypical drill sergeant-esque martial arts master who would threaten you with a shinai if you dared inhale too loudly, but this guy... Candace would almost prefer if he was the more serious type. At least she was prepared for that.

The class did as the teacher commanded, having done this at the start of every other session. Candace thought it silly to have to do so twice before the session began, but followed suit anyway.

"So, first things first, I want to introduce... Er..." The sensei hesitated, knowing that the reappearance of the green belt's name may cause confusion in the future. "...Candace to the class. Candace, this is Albert, Connor, Michio, Candace, Coltrane, Kayla, and Vanessa." The list began with the two yellow belts, advancing along the line to a blue, an advanced green, a purple, and two browns, one of them being Vanessa, respectively. "I'm Sensei Fredrick. Let's all say hi to... Candace."

The rest of the students, some of which the redhead recognized, ad lib-ed various greetings. To her right, Candace's acquaintance Albert Du Bois wore an enthusiastic toothy grin, being sure to make his presence known. At this, Candace made a 'Why me?' face before returning her attention to the instructor.

"So," he began, "There are two Candaces here. You got a last name?"

"Flynn."

"Really? Me too. Small world," mused the sensei before getting back on topic. "Vanessa, you could start us off."

Unsure of what exactly Vanessa was starting, Candace snapped to attention as the students engaged in a series of sudden jumping jacks, counted in Japanese by the dark-haired teen.

"Ichi! Ni! San! Shi! Go!"


Spring-loaded traps were set. Airhorns were placed in strategic locations around the house and backyard. Accordion arms mingled with pies and boxing gloves alike to make for the best 'Summer Fools' Day' ever, as it had been dubbed.

Isabella reached down to itch her knee, the sun shining wherever she desired to go. Rays from said sun bounced delicately off a particular area of the concrete, and she practically pounced at its source: a silver American dollar. Seconds later, she was still trying to pry it off the ground. "Rats, I broke a fingernail," she complained bitterly, standing back up.

"That was worth the dollar," Baljeet mused, satisfied, from the foliage of the bush he had chosen to hide in, pocketing a small tube of Psyko Glue. He backed up carefully, but not carefully enough; immediately, he felt the twang of a wooden stick smacking against his back. Baljeet turned around, realizing he had stepped on a gardening hoe that was not there before.

Phineas returned to the backyard with something no larger than a pen in hand. In his absence, someone had attached plastic wrap over the space where the sliding glass door would be; he was the unfortunate victim. "Hey, what-" With a defeated smile, he realized what had happened. "All right, you got me," he admitted, finally withdrawing the item in his hand. It was a simple red laser pointer.

Discreetly, the boy flashed the light on, and a solitary red dot formed. It darted across the yard, up one of Isabella's legs, and onto her torso. "Wh-What is this, a ladybug?" She asked, inspecting it.

She snapped to attention as she noticed Buford approaching. "Oh, no!" She hollered, but it was clearly too late. The bully, fascinated by the flickering orb, pounced on it and knocked Isabella completely over.

"Too easy," Phineas remarked, giving the camera a satisfied look.


Perry swiveled the handlebars on his jetpack as appropriate to land safely on the balcony of Doofenshmirtz's apartment-slash-evil lair. With a half-confused, half-expectant glance, he swept the area for one of two things: a trap or the musical group who was usually at the ready with a jingle whenever anyone passed the building. He put his jetpack aside.

"Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated."

There they were, the same three words that always invited him. However, it was a solitary voice that preformed it, and did so in a monotone, although chipper, voice.

"No, no, that isn't right!" Doofenshmirtz was heard calling from inside, coming out to greet his semiaquatic nemesis but focusing his attention instead on Norm, who stood behind the two. "It's called a 'jingle' for a reason, you have to sing it."

"I am incapable of altering my voice in such a way," explained the robot, his unmoving face further demonstrating his point.

"Don't be ridiculous, Norm, I've heard you sing before," Doofenshmirtz complained, and his face not getting all that lighter, he turned to Perry. "Sorry about that, Perry the Platypus. There was some legal thing with the Slacks, and I had to give them a week off. Vanessa's been doing the jingle for awhile, but she's at her martial arts class right now so I had to get Norm to do it."

"Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated," the robot repeated, no differently than his attempt before.

"I told you, you aren't doing it right," Doof continued, "You can go inside and practice some more, don't bother us."

"Gladly, sir."

"Alright, now that that's out of the way..." Doofenshmirtz followed Norm off the balcony with only his eyes, not bothering to turn his head to the loudly retreating piece of machinery. "...For your trap."

From his lab coat, Doofenshmirtz withdrew a small remote; all it took for Perry to become temporarily inconvenienced by a barrage of doughnuts the size of flotation tubes, each perfectly iced and dotted with sprinkles, was the press of one of the remote's many minuscule buttons. "You see, Perry the Platypus, today's -Inator was inspired by my first real, paying job. I may have touched upon the subject of bratwurst vending, but that wasn't my fist culinary experience, oh, no."

Inevitably, as the backstory went on, the screen rippled into the sepiatone world of Gimmelshtump, Drusselstein a generation and a half ago. A teenaged Heinz was seen in the back kitchen of a small bakery, rolling out the bready dough fated to be baked into a pastry of some sort. "My job at Munchin' Muffins was going well for a while," Doof of the present narrated, "I was on doughnut duty, putting the holes in them and dressing them. I even got paid in doughnuts! Sure, even Drusselstinian desserts aren't all that great, but it was better than what I had known at the time.

"I would have been the greatest doughnut maker ever," Doofenshmirtz lamented, "...If not for my one weakness: jelly. None of my jelly doughnuts ever sold, and you know why, Perry the Platypus? Holes. I put holes in all my other doughnuts, so why not jelly?"

Back in the present, Perry deadpanned at this. It was hard to imagine at this point, but he still did not quite understand Doofenlogic.

"They fired me, Perry the Platypus. I had an entire career in pastries ahead of me, and they just had to take it from me because they didn't know what a doughnut looks like! Granted, losing that job set me on the path towards evil - so that's a plus - but honestly, that's not the point!"

From offscreen, Doofenshmirtz withdrew an -Inator the size and shape of a water pistol. "That's why I made this, the Hole Punch-Inator! It does what it says; anything this baby hits will have a hole shot right through it. Today, I will make holes in all the jelly doughnuts in the entire Tri-State Area! Then they'll all see! Let me demonstrate on... This old lab coat I've had laying around."

Instantly, he did so, and the hanging garment featured a gaping hole in the back.

"Or maybe... This picture of Charlene that I keep forgetting to take down."

This, too, displayed the effects of the ray.

"Perry the Platypus's bill."

Instead of crying out in pain, as one might expect, Perry gave the camera a flat sideways glance, with all of him intact. He held out a piece of paper with the word 'Bill' at the top and a section of the center missing.

"Vanessa's birth certificate - wait, no!"

But it was too late. By the time he realized his mistake, Doofenshmirtz's finger had pulled too far back on the trigger and a purple beam was sent flying towards the letter. Thinking fast, Perry shrugged out of his trap, throwing one of the doughnuts like a Frisbee towards the light. The two collided, and the projectile fell, stagnant, to the floor. Doofenshmirtz noted that its hole was now completely filled in.

"So, when you hit a hole with the Hole Punch-Inator, it fills in?" The doctor thought it over. "Oh, I get it. It's just like when you subtract a negative number from something; you're putting a hole in a hole."

A second passed. "And, you're out of your trap, so... I should probably run."


"We're doing great," Candace's sensei informed the martial artists. "Now, everyone has their gear, right?"

The entirety of the class, barring the newcomer, gave some kind of affirmation. "Nice, let's get that on and do some sparring!"

As everyone else left, Candace turned to the instructor. Sensing her question before it was asked, he informed, "We can get you some later," then turned to set up a timer.

The teenagers reentered the dojo, this time with black rubber armor adorning their chests, heads, shins, feet, and hands. The sensei lined them up in pairs, with Coltrane facing Albert, Connor paired with Michio, and Candace's eponymous counterpart ready to do battle with Kayla. Candace did the math in her head, but was not quick to believe who she was doomed to spar.

"Since Vanessa's the highest rank here, we'll let her show Candace the ropes. How does that sound?" The instructor asked the two, but it was accepted that they had no real say in the matter. "Go easy on her, she doesn't have any gear," he whispered to Vanessa. She nodded firmly.

Following the lead of the rest of the class, Candace bowed in courtesy to her partner. Vanessa took a fighting stance, narrowing her eyes but not her grin. Nervous, Candace gulped loudly and followed suit.

A loud, five-note ring sounded, and pairs next to them started at each other. Vanessa moved in quickly, moving as if to strike but pulling back for the sake of her friend. Candace remembered the backfist-reverse punch combo she was taught earlier, and attempted to land that; Vanessa dodged it entirely. "Keep your hands up," the brunette reminded her, shrugging with her eyes at the situation. Cautiously, perhaps, Vanessa picked up her rear leg and thrust it into a front kick. Astonished, Candace backed out of the way, then finally scored a punch of some kind to Vanessa's chest guard.

Vanessa shook herself. The redhead was stronger than she looked, especially for someone who had not done this before. During her recovery, Candace jumped again at the opportunity and completed a palm-heel strike to Vanessa's shoulder.

Not allowing herself to be taken advantage of again, Vanessa moved in and this time showed off a regular side kick. Candace deflected it, but just barely.

Two minutes went by like this and were over sooner then Candace thought. Before she knew it, she had faced off against three others, and it was time to be dismissed.

They all lined up, bowed to the instructor, then bowed again to the dojo as they entered the waiting room where their shoes and equipment bags were stored. As Candace sat, putting her socks and shoes back on, she conversed with some of the others in the dojo.

"Hey, aren't you Jeremy's friend?" The question was directed at Coltrane.

"Yeah, I play bass with the Incidentals," he responded. "Of course, I've been doing this for much longer, so. Yeah."

"That's cool. What about you, Vanessa? Since when did you take martial arts?"

Vanessa shoved her headgear into a black bag. "Five years this summer," she informed with a unimpressed stare.

"Ooh!" Impeded Albert, "So have I!"

Candace was confused by this. Vanessa was five ranks above him, and they had been training for the same amount of time? She decided not to question it.

"It's definitely a commitment," the other brown belt added, removing her incredibly low ponytail. Her voice was quiet, but confident, and her hair was thicker than any Candace had seen - composed of all colors ranging from gold to dirty blonde to light brown. In the second or two her arms were raised, Candace counted ten multicolored rubber wristbands inch up her right wrist. "Coming back to the floor for an hour, two times a week for a few years. It can get really rough sometimes. The adrenaline, the second, third winds - and I've lost count of how many times Nessa's knocked the wind outta me. They break you down here, but gosh!" Her laugh, which slightly reminded Candace of Isabella's, rung louder than her spoken word. Strips of her long, reapplied ponytail laid in front of both shoulders like a scarf, accenting small sky blue eyes. "It's so worth it!"

The rest of the teens cried in agreement, some pumping fists or folded-up belts into the air. Candace glanced worriedly about the room. "Wait, this is twice a week? Sparring, combos, self-defense techniques, kata, the whole deal?"

"Yeah, usually," a black-haired boy of Indian descent replied. His head was round and his thin brown eyes glinted in the shafts of sun that made their way through the paper covering the windows. He rolled up his blue belt without another word.

"But-But that leaves, like, no time to bust my brothers!" Candace realized, "I took today off, but that's the most I can handle - it was for a good cause." She leaned back, rolling her eyes. She whispered, "Guess this isn't happening after all."

"Shame," the blonde said, but other than that, no objection was given. The speaker stood up and clasped a thin gold chain with an engraved heart shape around her pale neck.

One by one, students left the building. "Hey, does your necklace say 'worm' in all caps?" Vanessa inquired the nameless purple belt.

"Meh," she shrugged, "Close enough."


True to his word, Doofenshmirtz turned tail and ran, his lab coat fluttering after him. Perry sprinted along close behind, chasing the rampant evil doctor out of his apartment. "Hah, can't get me now," he claimed, shooting beams through to his neighbors' rooms. Perry cringed at this; only he wielded the right to break holes in others' walls, and only did so when trying to make a dramatic entrance.

Heinz stepped into a conveniently open elevator, jabbing the button to close the sliding doors; however, he was too late and Perry slid in to follow him just before the elevator initiated its descent. There was a pause as both man and monotreme realized that they could not continue the chase before letting off at the bottom. Doofenshmirtz checked his watch.

Then he sighed. "Eheh, sixty-four more floors to go, Perry the Platypus..."


Buford perched precariously in the tree that held his friends mere moments ago. Filled to the brim with water balloons was a shiny metal bucket beside him; he watched carefully for people passing by that could be doused. From behind, a certain pink bow could be seen momentarily before its owner popped up and shouted, "Boo!"

Startled, Buford lost his hold on the branch and began to fall. Acting quickly, Isabella produced and activated the personal anti-gravity remote that Ferb designed for her and hurled it towards the descending bully. Upon contact, the Earth's gravitational influence ceased to affect Buford leaving him suspended multiple feet in the air.

"What's goin' on?" He asked, confused, "Gravity fell!"

"It does that," Isabella chirped, finding his bucket and claiming it as her own. She lobbed a water balloon at a passing Baljeet. "Oh, and that anti-gravity device is locked. Enjoy floating around like a woodland pixie."

Buford considered this. "...Fine," he admitted, secretly doing exactly what she instructed.

Frustrated at being soaked, Baljeet took immediate advantage of the situation. "I predict I am going to regret doing this," he stated, advancing towards his friend. A mischievous glimmer not usually found in Baljeet's eyes could be seen as the boy oh-so-carefully removed Buford's right shoe and began tracing his fingers back and forth across the exposed foot.

"N-No!" Buford yelled in sheer panic, "Don't-Don't you da-are - st-stop it - you're playin' with fire, man - hoohahahahaha!"

Thankfully for him, Buford's ticklish torture ended rapidly as the odor from his shoe drastically weakened Baljeet, causing him to collapse comically onto the grass. Isabella tried to be dignified as she plugged her nose to avoid a similar fate, and Phineas narrowed his eyes to her.

"Hey, looks like it's just you and me, now," he dared.

Isabella shot back: "Bring it!"

"You get a Stella hoagie," Baljeet mumbled beside them, still in a daze.


Ding!

The elevator doors finally opened, and Doofenshmirtz leapt out of the small room. "Luckily," he started, "There's a bakery right across the diner right next to my building. Say goodbye, ridiculous filled-in doughnuts!"

The man burst across the street and into the store, -Inator poised and ready to attack. Perry was about to destroy it when he realized something crucial: he was in public now. His identity was at stake.

Instinctively, he flipped off his fedora and reverted to pet mode, watching in horror as Doofenshmirtz blasted a tray of jelly doughnuts with the Hole-Punch-Inator. The man packaging them for delivery did not notice.

"Whoo, that felt good," Doof commented, "Perry the Platypus, why don't you - hey, where'd you go? And how did this regular platypus get here?"

Perry would have rolled his eyes if they were not crossed, so he opted instead to chatter. There was no stopping the worker from leaving, but somehow, he would figure out how to stop Doof's plot. Havoc could be wreaked if he decided to use the machine on other things.

It was then that he noticed exactly who else was in the bakery. Two separate parties occupied the tables, both of which he was comfortable being Agent P around. He stood back up and put his fedora back atop his head.

"A-gent P!" Called one of the groups, his designated backup singers, each enjoying a certain pastry. He smiled lightly to them before turning back to his nemesis.

"Hey, what did you do with that other platypus?" Doof inquired, confused. "Ah, it doesn't matter. I'm already here; you can't stop me now!"

Just to prove him wrong, Perry leapt at the handheld -Inator. He missed, but landed on Doofenshmirtz's face and pulled at his nose. Distracted, the man dropped his ray; Perry took the chance to jump back down onto it and render it incapable of firing again. "Oh, come on, you aren't even going to let me win this one?" He complained.

The platypus just gave a small smile in victory before turning out the door. "Pe-erry!" His background singers exclaimed in excitement. He winked in their general direction, then took off. One of them swooned so much she fell face-first into her apple fritter.

Someone behind Doofenshmirtz cleared their throat. "Can I help you, sir?" The woman at the counter asked.

Doof turned red. "U-Um, no, you know, I'm actually just gonna-"

"Here," the lady interrupted. "We're sampling our jelly doughnuts today; would you like to try one?"

Doofenshmirtz grumbled. "Hey, guys, look who it is!" A member of the other group chimed, and Heinz turned around to see none other than the Slacks enjoying their time off.

All together, as if they had planned this, they chimed: "Doofenshmirtz making a fool of himself!"

Embarrassed enough as it was, Doof raced to the door of the shop. "Curse you, Perry the Platypus!" He bellowed out into the street, hoping his nemesis would hear. Nervously, he tucked his head back inside to the group working for the monotreme. "No offence or anything," he called.

"Hmph," a particularly annoyed-looking member mumbled.


It was down to two. They stood to each other, feet shoulder width apart, legs bent, arms hovering above their sides. Eyes were narrowed to sense who was going to make the next move. One could almost be sure there was a tumbleweed rolling in the background. A faint "My watermelon!" could be heard in the distance.

"Your move, Flynn," Isabella challenged.

"Oh, yeah?" Phineas's eyes laughed at this. A honking could be heard coming from the driveway. "Hey, they're here," he observed, turning and running to the sound.

Shortly afterwards, Phineas returned with a thin cardboard box in his hands. "Thanks again, Paul," he called with a grin. He moved toward Isabella again, holding out the box. To the girl's surprise, he turned the front of it to her and kneeled down, asking slowly, "Isabella, would you..."

He opened the box, which suddenly became small, black, and velvet. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring adorned with tiny pink glass flowers. "...Marry me?" He finished, suddenly dressed in a dashing tux, his hair neatly combed to one side.

Isabella's heart nearly stopped.

"...Hello..? Isabeeellaaa..."

The girl's eyes and ears began functioning properly again, and she recoiled. No, he was not proposing. The cardboard box was filled with a dozen rounded treats.

"I asked if you would like a doughnut."

She inspected the pastries; they were each coated heavily in sugar and the aroma was pleasing. She could not help but to be suspicious, however. Would pulling one out activate a trap door beneath her? Well, it was possible.

"They're jelly," he went on, "Your favorite."

"These aren't jelly," she observed, confused. Phineas looked in the box.

"Hey, these have all sorts of holes in them," he complained. "I-I ordered them specifically to be filled with mayo. What happened?"

Isabella put a hand on his shoulder. "Never trust a muffin place to give you doughnuts," she informed.

"So... I guess the joke's on me, huh?"

"It's alright with me if you want to consider this a tie."

"Guys," a raspy voice from above reminded them of his presence. "I'm still... Floatin' around..."

"Oh, sorry about that, Bufe," Phineas chirped. Isabella reached up and scaled her friend, unclipping the device from his shirt. She then unlocked the remote and they both fell to the ground. She giggled again and even earned a light guffaw from the burly boy.

"Truce?" Phineas offered.

"Truce," his friends agreed.

"My favorite part was the trick branch," Ferb commented.

"Hey - you were conscious the entire time?" Inquired Baljeet, impressed.

Ferb, whom no one saw join them until his line, shrugged. "Summer Fools'."

With that, a different horn blared through to the yard. One door opened, then another. Candace appeared just outside the gate, trudging.

"Hey, Candace, how was Goju?" Phineas asked in welcome.

"Huh?" She mumbled, clearly exhausted.

"Chinese Goju. Isn't that the kind of martial arts you were learning?"

Candace shrugged.

"So how was it?"

"Water," she replied.

A beat passed.

"How about you? My busting senses have been going off the hook."

"We were just cleaning up," Phineas explained. "Come on, let's getcha that water!"

As Phineas led Candace inside, a teal monotreme made its way into the backyard. "Oh, there you are, Perry," the teen panted, "At least you don't have to do all that martial arts stuff."


During the credits...

In her home across the street, Isabella felt the handle on the door to her room, spotting a tag hanging from it. "What's this?" She wondered aloud, removing the note and reading it.

-Ferb

She furrowed her brow and cautiously poked her head in. Her eyes bulged as she took in the one new detail added to her room, particularly to the ceiling.

One word was scrawled across it in purple spray paint: Gullible.

"Ohoh, Fletcher, you're dead!" She vowed, the annoyance in her voice mixed in with some tease. At her feet stood a bucket of the paint of her ceiling's normal color.

"Summer Fools'," she mused, "Never again."


Dude this came out longer than I expected. It's nearly 6,000 words. I'm beginning to sense a pattern here: writers' block=long chapter.

*Disclaimer: I'm sure it's just fine to trust a muffin place with your doughnuts. If they do that, that is.

**Disclaimer 2: I take Chinese Goju and actually quite enjoy it. However, I will not be held liable for misrepresentation of the art here.

Carpe Diem, folks! (*goes to walk out of the room, completely forgetting about the cup of water above the door and getting wet*)

...Just enough to make an impact. Typical.