Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the Kim Possible series are owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.
Talk is Cheap
"Geniuses?" Ron responded to the request for autographs, as Rufus took the offered pen and put his 'X' on the sheet of paper.
The student was so amazed with Rufus he didn't know what to do, "Oh my God. Oh my God!"
"It is so refreshing to have my genius recognized," Drakken said smugly, taking the pen when Rufus offered it to him.
"Uh, exactly why did you say that," Ron wanted to know.
"The video… The YouTube video," the stranger stammered. "The act in… Where were you? Some of us thought," he pointed at Rufus, "was CGI. He's real. How did you…"
"I think we were in Nepal," Ron told him. "I still don't understand why you said Doc was a genius."
"Both of you. That was the most incredible piece of performance art ever. We talked about it for days in class."
The young man's friends began to move in their direction. He pointed at Rufus, "He's real! I said he was real, and he's here. You were wrong, Steve."
"Yeah, but I still say it was from a studio in Hollywood," a girl protested.
"No, they say it was in Nepal."
"Nepal?" one of the other students said, clearly puzzled. "Is that near Burbank?"
"It's in Asia, dummy," the girl told him. "Nepal, really?" she asked skeptically.
"We didn't have a map," Drakken explained. "It's possible we were in northern India at that point."
The student who had been addressed as Steve was staring at Rufus in disbelief, "How long did it take you to train him?" he asked Drakken.
"Rufus is with me," Ron protested.
"What other tricks does he do," a girl named Cynthia asked.
"Uh, Rufus doesn't do tricks," Ron explained. "He's just smart. He–"
"He signed my pad," the first student interrupted, showing the others the paper with the 'x' the naked mole rat had inscribed on the page.
"No way," the skeptical girl answered and handed a pen to the rodent and held up a piece of paper. Rufus quickly scratched another 'x'.
"He did it! He really did it!" Steve said in amazement. "Is he animatronic?"
"No, a naked mole rat," Drakken told him.
"Please," another student asked, "we spent a whole class period just arguing about the meaning of your work. What was the point of that video?"
Ron and Drakken looked at each other in a state of panic. They had needed to raise a little money to get out of the town. It had all been a hideous mistake and neither wanted to admit that fact. Rufus scrambled up Ron's arm and appeared to whisper in his ear, to the delight of the audience.
"Uh, what did you think it meant?" Ron asked to buy time.
"I thought it was real from the start," the first student told them in his best suck-up voice. "I said it was demonstration of the ubiquity of the Internet in this wired age."
"I thought it was a commentary on our treatment of animals," the skeptical girl said, "a role reversal."
"It wasn't commentary;" Steve protested, "it was satire on how animals are mistreated for our amusement."
"A parody of our fascination with reality shows."
"A protest against forced conformity to socially prescribed roles!"
"A demonstration on the interconnectivity of the human race in the digital age."
"It was a promotion for PETA on the absurdity of our treatment of pets!"
"They skewered the nature of fame. It was effing obvious that's what they were doing!"
Neither Drakken nor Ron understood more than about half of the comments being argued around them. Drakken listened desperately hoping to discover a majority position he could exploit to his advantage and couldn't find one. He solemnly raised his hand and the students ceased their argument, "Why do you need to restrict it to a single meaning?"
The students looked blankly at each other for a few seconds. "That is so genius," Steve murmured.
"What's this piece you're doing now?" the first student to address them asked. "Why are you chained together?"
Ron picked up on Drakken's cue, "We, uh, can't tell you. It would, uh, limit your–"
"Our perceptions," the skeptic agreed. "It's a parody on conformity isn't it?"
"As Jon was trying to explain," Drakken began.
"Ron! My name is Ron!"
"Whatever. As he was saying, we don't want you to prejudge the work based on expectations we tell you."
"So, will you be in New York long?"
"We're not certain. Probably not more than a few days."
"Could you come to a gallery exhibition tonight?" Cynthia asked. "Professor LeTourne is having a special showing. He'd love to meet you. It was his class where we talked about you."
Drakken, afraid of someone pointing out that the Emperor had no clothes, tried to decline the offer. "I'm not sure we could work it into our schedule."
"It'll really be something," another student promised. "The contestants for Next Iron Chef are going to be making hors d'oeuvres."
"Seriously?" Ron asked. "Will Alton Brown be there?"
"I think he's one of the judges, yeah."
Ron looked at Drakken, "We got to go, Doc. We got to go."
"Alton Brown?" Drakken asked.
"Kitchen god," Ron explained in a reverential tone. "Taught me everything I know about cheese."
"Cheez!" Rufus seconded.
"Fine," the blue man grumbled.
"You're going?" the first student asked, clearly excited.
Drakken held up the leg with the chain attached to Ron. "I don't believe I have a choice under the circumstances."
Cynthia gave them directions for the gallery. The two spent the rest of the afternoon walking through the Village as Ron took mental notes for the paper. Drakken insisted they stop at a couple electronics stores so he could search for death ray parts, and Ron went into the first five souvenir shops they saw looking for tchatchkes for his family, Kim, and her parents. The two discussed strategy for the evening over bi-bim-bop and bulgoki at a Korean restaurant. "Whatever this Professor LeTourne did, we love it," Drakken told Ron.
"Even if it stinks?"
"Especially if it stinks. No one ever attacks you when you're telling them they're wonderful."
"You've been out of high school quite a while, haven't you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Tell a girl she's wonderful, ask her out, and she laughs in your face, rips your heart out of your chest and stomps on it."
"Well, normal people don't… Trouble with you and Kim Possible? She's not all that. You could do better."
"I don't want to do better… I mean, no one is better than KP. I was just thinking about freshman year… And sophomore… And junior… Come on, are you telling me you were good with the girls in high school."
"I was too busy with science club for girls," Drakken informed him haughtily.
"So you were a real loser too?"
"Yeah," Drakken sighed. "But this guy is saying we're geniuses. We need to stay on his good side."
"It isn't honest."
"Well, let's put it another way. If we insult him we get tossed out and you don't get to worship your kitchen god."
"I haven't seen the Professor's stuff," Ron admitted. "But something tells me I'm going to like it."
Feeling a need to dress for the occasion they purchased ties before heading for the gallery, although Ron wore his with his collarless shirt and the tiny bow-tie on Rufus seemed inappropriate on a naked mole rat.
Professor LeTourne watched the gallery door with a sense of mingled expectation, dread, and skepticism. He half suspected his students were playing some sort of practical joke on him with their claim that they had met the internet artists and invited them to the showing. He half wanted very much to meet them and have their opinions on his work. And he half dreaded they would end up receiving more publicity for their appearance than he would for his exhibition. There was a small commotion near the door and the two of the students who had met Drakken and Ron that afternoon ushered the 'performance artists' over to meet the instructor.
"Theodore Lipsky," Drakken introduced himself. "And this is my assistant, Rob."
"Ron, my name is Ron," Ron explained.
A pink creature with shiny black eyes popped out of an over-sized pocket, startling everyone, and made a noise which sounded to many like, "An'me!"
Ron finished the introduction, "And this is Rufus."
The professor adjusted his glasses, "Oh my. I am delighted you could be here. Please, I'd like your opinions on my work."
"We're honored to have been invited," Drakken assured him.
"Where's Alton Brown?" Ron wanted to know.
"Art first," Drakken told him sharply. "We're here for the art. Get your priorities in order."
"You can be here for the art," Ron told him. "My priority is Alton Brown."
"It is so hard to find good assistants," Drakken told the professor.
"The Iron Chef competitors have their stations throughout the gallery," the professor told Ron.
"Art first," Drakken said firmly, and pointed at the chain connecting him to Ron. "The food is here in service to the art, not the other way around."
Ron recognized the truth in that, but still didn't like it. "Ah man, that tanks."
Several movie stars were at the exhibit, both George Clooney and Johnny Depp chatted briefly with Drakken and Ron. Depp had seen the video on YouTube. In person he wondered if the two engaged in a sort of sly humor or were totally clueless.
Students who had met the pair that afternoon appeared to have told others about Rufus. As they strolled through the gallery people kept coming up and asking for the mole rat's signature
"Does it bother you that he's getting more requests for autographs than we are?" Ron asked Drakken.
"Intensely, but I'm not going to let him know how jealous I am."
"Dude, he's right here. He heard that."
"Nonsense, he doesn't understand English… Does he?" Drakken looked at Rufus. "Do you understand English?" Rufus shook his head no and Drakken breathed a sigh of relief. "See, I told you he doesn't understand English."
Professor LeTourne produced found object sculptures, primarily from salvaged auto parts and it was far more interesting than either Drakken or Ron had feared. The two men listened carefully to other people in the gallery to pick up terms worth repeating - composition, balance, negative space, and perspective.
"What's patina?" Drakken whispered to Ron as a student made the comment on something constructed from a fifty-four Chevy engine.
"I think it's a sandwich."
"Doesn't look like a sandwich," Drakken muttered and got in very close to stare at the work.
Professor LeTourne chose that moment to come over and ask for an opinion. "You seem fascinated with that particular work, Mr. Lipsky."
"I'm interested in your technique," Drakken said in an admiring tone. "I'll let others praise you for composition and use of negative space, but your welding skills are excellent. You could build a wonderful giant death ray."
"Technique, yes, I… Um… Thank you."
"You're talking shop again," Ron hissed as the instructor nervously edged away.
A couple small camera teams circulated through the gallery, recording the reactions of people as they sampled the hors d'oeuvres.
Ron managed to work better with the contestants in the Next Iron Chef competition than Drakken had with the professor. In addition to the time constraints on preparation they'd been thrown another curve ball. After purchasing the ingredients for what they'd planned to make they had been forced to pass their ingredients to another chef.
"That's it, I'm eliminated," one contestant sighed when Rufus turned up his nose at an offering. "A rat wouldn't eat what I fixed."
"The guy who bought it probably planned to marinate it for as long as he could in garlic and ginger," Ron suggested. "No flavor when you just grill it like this."
"One of the judges for this elimination challenge is Bobby Flay."
"So, you figured the way to impress the grill guy is by grilling something badly?"
"It made sense at the time. I was in panic mode when we had to switch ingredients."
"Well, everything else you've got it great. I've had a couple weak items at other tables. When will the judges be here? I want to meet Alton Brown. I see Ted Allen."
"Ted isn't a judge in this competition. He likes the art. The judges should be here soon."
Ron got into a discussion on Bobby Flay at another competitor's station. "I just don't like watching him that much."
"How can you not like Bobby Flay? He's a great chef!"
"I'm not saying he isn't a great chef. I just got so turned off by Throwdown that I don't care about watching him."
"What's wrong with Throwdown?"
"What's right with Throwdown? You have Bobby Flay, world-famous chef taking on amateurs and cooks from mom-and-pop places."
"But he's challenging them in their specialties."
"Yeah, after he and two assistants watch a video of what the other people can do. Then they go into a test kitchen and keep practicing until they're pretty sure Bobby can do it better. What I find really sketchy is that Bobby can take all of these rich and expensive ingredients that a lunch wagon, or pie place, or diner couldn't afford to use. He'll have a Throwdown with some place that makes French toast, and while they use a bread they make themselves he'll have some double egg brioche custom baked in France and flown over while it's still warm." Ron noticed the eyes of the competitor had widened slightly. The teen smiled to himself, obviously this chef had never considered the simple logic of his argument and Ron plunged ahead. "So it's like, his show with his rules. I don't know what he'd do if he wasn't making the rule." The chef he was talking to had now gone absolutely white and a look of fear glazed his eyes. "And Bobby Flay is standing right behind me now, isn't he?"
The chef managed to nod a slight 'yes.'
"There is a very angry individual behind you," Drakken confirmed.
"Is he holding a cleaver?" Ron asked.
"No."
"So, you don't think I'm a good chef," Bobby growled as Ron turned around.
"I never said that, Sir," Ron corrected him, "What I said was–"
"So a nobody like you goes talking about me behind my back and–"
"Uh, actually, you were listening behind my back."
That only seemed to make the chef more angry. "You think you could cook better than I can?"
"I never said any such thing. My point was I don't think Throwdown's a fair competition."
"And Iron Chef? You think that's rigged too?"
"All the Iron Chefs are good. I wouldn't say rigged. You don't know the mystery ingredient. But it's a kitchen you know, with sou chefs you know, and a time frame you've worked in a lot."
"So, you're saying it's rigged."
"No, I'm saying that experience gives the Iron Chefs kind of an edge. You're a great chef. I just said I didn't know how you'd do in a kitchen you didn't know with the same ingredients that the competitors had to use."
"So, you want to take me on in Chopped?" Bobby asked, looking around for Ted Allen.
"I never said–" Ron tried to answer.
"We need to judge the Iron Chef competitors," Alton Brown reminded Bobby.
Grateful for the interruption Ron fell to the floor and kissed the shoes of Alton Brown, "I am not worthy. I am not worthy."
"Perhaps not," Alton commented dryly, "but at the moment there is a competition going on."
"Ted," Bobby called to the host of Chopped, "come talk with these two. I want to face this kid and put him in his place." Then he moved over to the table to sample what the chefs in the competition had produced.
"Everyone has been telling me I need to meet you two," Ted Allen commented after coming over to talk with Ron and Drakken. "What was Bobby upset about?"
"Roy here insulted his cooking," Drakken explained.
"My name is Ron," the teen explained. "And I didn't insult his cooking. He's a great chef. I was explaining why I didn't like Throwdown and it was, like, he took it as a personal attack and challenged me to face him on Chopped."
"Chopped is my show, and Bobby Flay doesn't issue the invitations. He was probably angry at being insulted and over–"
"I didn't insult him! I said he was a great chef."
"Then hopefully he will calm down. They're supposed to be breaking up the Chopped set tomorrow any way, we finished shooting the season today… It would be interesting to have Bobby on as a competitor."
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "But not against me! I'm just some guy whose friends think he cooks good."
An idea ran through Ted Allen's mind and he stayed with Ron and Drakken. "You two are very funny… I'm trying to decide which of you is the straight man."
"We're, uh, both straight men," Ron assured him nervously.
"Straight man is a term in comedy," Drakken started to explain to Ron. "In a comedy duo there was often the funny man and the straight man who–"
"Uh, Doc… Do you know who Ted Allen is?"
"I… Um… He certainly looks familiar."
"Did you ever watch Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?"
"I heard about it, but–"
"Ted Allen was one of the eye guys."
"So you're saying…" Ron nodded. "Both straight men," Drakken assured him. "Absolutely straight men."
"Chained together and wearing clothes from Fetishes-R-Us?"
"The chain is part of a new performance art piece," Drakken said quickly.
"How did you know…" Ron asked nervously. "Do you shop at–"
"Mr. Lipsky failed to remove a tag and it is clearly visible on the back of his trousers."
Drakken's hands went to his rear and he found the offending tag and pulled it off.
"He was checking out your butt," Ron whispered to Drakken. The teen then turned to Ted. "We weren't thinking about pants when we–"
"Don't say we weren't thinking about pants," Drakken hissed.
"We weren't thinking about dressing when–"
"That's even worse!"
"We needed to get zipper sides for the project," Ron finished. "Do you know how hard it is to find them?"
"I'm very pleased to say I do not."
Bobby Flay came back to talk with the three. "We're done here, heading back to the studio to decide who gets eliminated." He turned to Ron, "Sorry I lost my temper like that."
"No problem," Ron told him. "You thought I was insulting you. That wasn't what I meant. Sorry I sounded that way."
"But you did tell him you wanted to face him on Chopped," Ted reminded Bobby.
"I was blowing off steam. It wouldn't be fair."
"Fair or not, it gave me an idea for an interesting episode. The time and ingredient restraints on Chopped are so extreme some viewers may think some competitors are ill-qualified when it is simply the case they are facing nearly insurmountable difficulties. To have you facing average cooks might give viewers a better sense of the challenge."
Drakken looked apprehensive, "I don't know about this."
"Ron," Ted asked. "How well do you cook?"
"My friends tell me I'm great."
"There," Ted firmly, "an amateur with skills others rate above average. Mister Lipsky?"
"What?"
"How well do you cook? Since you're joined with Mr. Stoppable here you will need to be a contestant."
Drakken thought fast. If he was introduced as a performance artist on television then people would see the humiliating video on YouTube as a work of artistic genius. There was, however, a problem with that, "I'd say I was an average cook."
"That is perfect for what I want. Now, I need one more contestant. I'd like to have a woman… I suggest the next woman to come around that corner, or the woman after her if the first one refuses the offer."
The woman identified herself as Rose Gorbnakov. When offered the chance to appear on Chopped she appeared nervous. "I'm such a terrible cook, you wouldn't believe. I'm no cook at all. You don't want me."
"Actually," Ted assured her, "you are exactly who we would like. What will someone who isn't a great chef do when confronted by our basket of mystery ingredients?"
No one other than Ted seemed thrilled at the prospect of the upcoming battle, but he cheerfully told the three who didn't know the location how to find Studio A at Food Network and told them to be there by noon the next day.
