A/N: The characters used in this story, as well as a few of their quotes, belong to Disney, but the words and storyline are my own. I have made no profit from them whatsoever, except (hopefully) satisfaction in a job well done and perhaps constructive criticism from my peers and fellow writers. This is pretty much uncharted territory for me, so continuation of this story may depend on the feedback received. Also, I've never been to Littleton, Colorado. Any opinions expressed by Not-Fred on his hometown are his and not my own.

I am, for lack of a better phrase, tickled pink by how positive the reviews I have gotten so far are, and how many of you put this on your "Story Alert"! I am very proud of this fic so far, and am glad to see you guys like it, too. A special shout-out to: Troper (from RS Net), CajunBear73, Willowleaf2560, Kimberly, daccu65, Sentinel103, bthecatslayer, James Doyle, and AtomicFire. I'm pleased to see this new project getting so much more traffic than my others. Thanks for the encouragement, guys!

"Hmm…" I crunched my taco and thought about the taste. A bit pre-packaged; not nearly as good as a naco, but better than nothing. Then again, just about anything tastes good when you're hungry. As I ate I glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall opposite me. The hands pointed to the one and the three, indicating that it was about 1:15 in the morning. I'd been there for almost an hour, doing the dishes and eating my snackage, and it took me about twenty minutes to walk to "Taco Bell", so that must mean... I did some quick math in my head. I must have gotten to the corner at about midnight. Maybe my coach turned back into a pumpkin and dumped me off at the street corner, I chuckled to myself. Yeah, but I lost my pants, not my glass slipper. That'd make a pretty wonky fairy tale. What'd Kim think of that?

I wonder what Kim's doing right now. Maybe she's missing me…

Does she even know I'm alive?

Concerned for my spouse's emotional well-being, I began to think about how I would get home. "Hey, hey… Mister?"

The cashier gave me a look that seemed to say, "Why are you still here?"

I ignored the expression. "Do you have a phone or something I could borrow?"

"Sure," the man said blandly and began to point to a pay phone, but, remembering my current state of cashlessness, thought better of it and tossed me a cellular phone from his pocket. It was a bright hot pink with sparkling rhinestones decorating its front.

I glanced at it and raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, this is Fred's, too?"

"Naw, my ex-girlfriend's."

I'd rather not know. I flipped open the phone and dialed Kim's cell number. I jumped as loud, high-pitched beep-beep-be-beeping filled my ears and ripped the cell phone away from my head. The man stared at me.

"Heh, um, I must have dialed a wrong number…" I stuttered, trying again. I got the same result.

"Man, what number are you calling?" Waking up a bit, Not-Fred seemed to be a little more accommodating.

"1-555-555-0173."

"Dude, that's one of those fake TV numbers! Who gave it to you?"

"My wife."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"No!" I bit back sharply. "I've been calling this number for the past four years!"

"Look, I might not be a college grad, but I know a made-up number when I hear it."

I frowned and tried our home phone number. Then Wade's. Then my parents'. Then Kim's parents'. Each time I got the same infuriatingly repetitive tone. I pulled the phone away again. "What the heck…"

"Look, where do you live? Maybe I can get the phone book."

"Middleton. Middleton, Colorado."

Not-Fred snorted. "You're joking, right? Or did I hear you wrong?"

"No." I was a little frustrated. "What? What's so funny?"

"I've never heard of 'Middleton'. This is Littleton, Colorado. You know, home of 'nothing-ever-happens'?"

What?

Mentally shoving aside the questions for later, I deduced that I would be spending the night here at… "Littleton", wherever that was.

"Hey, do you know any good hotels or something around here?" I asked.

"I thought you were broke."

"Oh, yeah." I chuckled nervously. "I forgot."

The man sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, you're not going to sleep in a booth here. I'll get in enough trouble after letting a guy off the street work for food."

"Well, where should I go?"

"You're askin' me? Why should I care where a random hobo sleeps for the night?"

"Hobo?" I said, offended. "Just because I'm lost, hungry, broke, and missing some vital parts of my clothing doesn't make me a hobo!"

Not-Fred snorted again. "Are you listening to yourself? Or are you just saying whatever pops into your head?"

"Hmph!" I crossed my arms indignantly. "Well, I don't have to hang around here to be insulted!"

"Then don't. Let me show you the door. See?" He waved his arms in the exit's general direction. "There it is. Don't trip on your way out."

"You're just gonna kick me out?"

"Yep."

"What…" I searched my mind for something useful to keep me around the only acquaintance I had in "Littleton". "What about your girlfriend's cell phone?"

Not-Fred came from around the counter to not-so-gently escort me out. "Ex-girlfriend's. And keep it. Not like she'd be getting it back."

"But-" I was cut off by the jingle of the door slamming behind my back.

"Guy-who-isn't-Fred!" I cried desperately to the man behind the door. "I thought we had something!" No reply came.

I suddenly had the urge to take out Rufus from my pocket. I needed some company.

Oh, right. Rufus had been at home on the last mission. Still the "tweebs"' favorite test pilot, he had promised Kim's younger twin brothers that he would help them test out their latest mini-aircraft, the Kimminator Mark 3. They had named it after her as a present for Kim's last birthday.

Kim. I missed Kim even more than I missed Rufus, if such a thing were possible. A naked mole rat buddy is all well and good, but sometimes a guy needs a girl to come home to; and I couldn't think of any girl I'd rather come home to than Kim.

Well, I wouldn't be going home to her tonight, anyway. I walked away from the restaurant and began scouting around for a place to sit down.

I had lost track of time as I wandered around Littleton. Eventually I came to a field of lush grass with a fenced-in pool and playground. I peered at the large yellow sign near me and squinted to read it in the early morning light. It said in all lowercase, cutely rounded letters, "harlow park". I smiled tiredly and glanced around in hopes of finding a park bench of some sort.

Score! I trudged gratefully to the bench and stretched out on it. The hard surface was uncomfortable but easily ignorable; I'm usually up for a nap at any time of day, and it was already pretty late… or early, depending on how you thought of it. I turned onto my stomach and rested my head in the crook of my arms, closing my eyes and beginning to drift off…