Disclaimer: the Disney Corp owns Kim Possible. But it will be my honor to make American-style jokes about them.

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Bonnie and Dr. Drakken faced each other, moments away from dancing together on Dancing With The Scoundrels.

"OK, Mr. Blue Skin . . ." huffed Bonnie.

"That's Dr. Drakken, if you please . . ." he weakly replied.

"What-ever. Do you know how to tango?" she demanded.

"Uh, I'm afraid I'm a little rusty . . ."

Bonnie shot him a disbelieving look.

"Er, actually no, not ever. Couldn't we do a nice cha-cha instead?"

Arms akimbo, Bonnie shot back, "Oh, that's just great! On national TV with a dance partner who can't tango, and we can't switch the dance because the band already has their music . . ." She thought for a moment, and then continued. "OK, here's your 30 second crash-course tango lesson, so listen up Mr. Blue Blacken. . ."

"That's Dr. Drakken . . ."

"What-EVER! OK, the basic tango pattern is left foot forward, right foot forward, left-right-together. The timing is slow, slow, quick-quick-slow. Just think of the letters: T, A, N-G-O. You do the basic steps and I'll do the fancier ones. And I'll lead: understand? And if I lean back, hold on to me tight as you dip me. Got that?" Bonnie hissed.

"Nngh, I think so. But I'm an evil genius, not a dancer!" Dr. D complained.

"Well, just remember that this is all your fault! And if you embarrass me out there, so help me, I WILL make you pay! Understand, Dr. Blue Dragon?" Bonnie warned.

"That's DRAK . . . oh, never mind," Dr. D said resignedly. "Why do I have a sense of impending doom about this . . ."

The stagehand then spoke. "Miss Rockwaller, Mr. Drakken, you're on . . ."

The audience's applause died down as the announcer began to speak. "Welcome to Dancing With The Scoundrels! I'm your host, Tom Bergamot. Now, from Middleton High, please welcome Bonnie Rockwaller and her mad scientist dance partner, Dr. Drakken!" The audience applauded as they stepped onto the dance floor and into the spotlight.

With a rose firmly clenched between his teeth, Dr. Drakken pulled Bonnie into a dance hold. As the orchestra began and the strains of La Cumparsita were heard, they began to move across the floor. The sharp rhythms of the accordion and the syncopated rolls of the snare drum were offset by the sensuous harmonies of the violins. But Drakken's dancing was anything but sensuous, as he accidentally began with his right foot instead of his left, stepping on Bonnie's foot.

"Ow! Left foot first, you jerk, not right!"

"Ungh, sorry!"

Finally on the correct foot, Drakken jerkily moved forward, looking ever so much like Frankenstein's monster as he and Bonnie clumsily moved across the dance floor. Bonnie opened up their hold and attempted to move around Drakken's left, but he managed to step on her dress as she swung around. A ripping sound was heard as Bonnie's dress was torn from the bottom all the way to her upper thigh.

"You idiot! Watch where you're stepping!"

"Sorry, trying to count here . . ."

The audience was beginning to chuckle as their dance went from bad to worse. Bonnie leaned back as Drakken tried to dip her, but he lost his balance, dropping Bonnie ignominiously onto her behind. Bonnie yelled "You jerk!" and shot him a very dirty look as she quickly got up.

Getting back into their dance hold, she tried to pivot in front of him while simultaneously bringing her right leg up to perform a small kick. But instead of bringing his feet together, he stepped forward with his left as Bonnie accidentally kneed him in the groin.

"Oops! Sorry!" she apologized.

Wincing in pain, he struggled to continue, but only managed to step on the torn part of Bonnie's dress, this time ripping the damaged material completely off. The audience broke out in guffaws as Bonnie looked down at the remains of her dress, which now bore more of a resemblance to a miniskirt than a ballroom gown.

Deeply blushing now and hoping to salvage at least some of her pride, Bonnie decided to improvise. Adding in a few cheerleading moves, she moved around Drakken and executed a perfect backward flip, followed by a high kick. Unfortunately, Drakken chose this moment to move to the left instead of the right. Bonnie's kick connected squarely with his jaw, knocking him out cold as he collapsed into a heap on the floor.

As the music wound to a close, the audience was now in stitches and nearly rolling in the aisles with laughter.

Bonnie leaned over Drakken, slapping him gently in an attempt to revive him. "Sorry! I'm so sorry! Please wake up, Mr. Blue Guy!"

Drakken began to come to. "Ungh . . . what happened?" he mumbled groggily.

After wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, the host helped Bonnie get Dr. Drakken to his feet. "That . . . that was an amazing performance, you two! Let's go to our judges now for their reaction. First let's hear from Carrie Anne Wasabi."

The lovely judge looked non-plussed as she began. "That was probably the worst tango I've ever seen. How did you two even get on this program? Bonnie, you have some potential, but Dr. Drakken . . . well, you're just hopeless. I'm giving you a "2" for your determination to complete the dance, if for nothing else."

As the audience quietly booed the first judge, Drakken was melting under Bonnie's withering glare. The host said, "Ooh, a bit harsh. Let's see what our next judge, Ben Goodfellow has to say."

The distinguished-looking judge wrapped his thumbs in his coat lapel as he passed judgment. "That was definitely the worst tango I've seen in my entire life. I can only hope that your humiliating performance today will encourage you to never set foot on a dance floor ever again. I'm only giving you a "1" because the scoring system doesn't permit me to give you a zero."

The audience booed and hissed even louder, as Drakken began to look even more uncomfortable. Bonnie was now almost beside herself with anger. The host laughed nervously. "Wow, it doesn't get much worse than that. And now for our last judge, Bruno Cannoli."

The young judge was smiling broadly as he began his comments. "That performance was simply amazing! And I must respectfully disagree with our first two judges: no one could possibly be that bad without doing it on purpose. Your comic timing was spot on for the entire time, and you didn't let up once! An incredible effort! I'm giving you a 10!"

The audience burst into cheers and spontaneous applause. Drakken mumbled, "Well, heh-heh, at least the audience enjoyed it." Bonnie was only slightly mollified as the scene began to fade into the next program.

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Shego had appeared just off stage of what looked like a cooking show. The hostess was already on the set and had begun speaking.

"Hello, and welcome to Marta Stewert: Living. Today I'll be showing you how to build a cold fusion reactor out of old twine and pinecones, but first we have a special treat. From the enormously successful bakery, Hank's Gourmet Cupcakes, please welcome their Chief Operating Officer for Random Mayhem, Miss Sheila Go."

The studio audience applauded politely as Shego walked onto the set. But as soon as Marta and Shego saw each other, they froze. Marta's smile vanished.

"Shego . . ." Marta whispered.

"Marta . . ." Shego sneered.

The tension between the two was thick enough to cut with a knife. If there were any two women in the world who could be called alpha females, it would be Shego and Marta, and the sparks could soon be flying.

Shego smiled as she thought to herself, "Time to turn the tables on Drakken's Personality Analyzer, and deliver some payback while I'm at it."

Marta quickly regained her composure and addressed the audience. "Shego . . . uh, Miss Go and I were . . . roommates together once."

Shego added, "You mean cellmates, don't you Marta?" The audience gasped. "And how have you been since our little incarceration? Any hot stock tips you can share to help me build my portfolio?"

Several oohs were heard from the audience.

Controlling her irritation, Marta responded, "No, although I can certainly share a few things with you about manner and etiquette. But today I'd like to focus on the extraordinary success of Hank's Gourmet Cupcakes."

"Of course, Marta." Shego purred. "And I'd also like to share some tips with you on how to know when your goose is cooked."

Ignoring the jab, Marta continued. "Tell me, would you attribute your success more to the delicious cupcake recipe, or to the brilliant marketing campaign that made Hank's Gourmet Cupcakes an overnight success?"

"Oh, a little of both, really. Although I can't share the exact recipe with you, I did bring a palatable crow recipe you might be interested in," Shego cattily replied. "And I really improved the morale of our staff with some interior decorating tips I learned from you! You sure brightened up our drab cell block with color, and you also managed to find some drapes that didn't clash with the window bars!"

More chuckles were heard from the audience, and Marta was becoming visibly upset.

Marta took a deep breath to maintain control. "But the success of Hank's Cupcakes was short-lived. Can you tell us what happened?"

"Sure. Things were going pretty well, until Dr. Drakken used the profits to build a weather machine in yet another failed attempt at taking over the world. But even that might have worked if it weren't for little Miss Priss and her dopey sidekick accidentally blowing up the whole place, so we had to put the whole thing into the 'Half-Baked Ideas That Leave A Bitter Taste' file."

"What a shame," Marta replied sarcastically.

Shego cheerfully responded, "But it looks like you're doing well! I just saw your new fall line at Smarty-Mart: I just know that orange jumpsuit ensemble is going to be a hit!"

Marta glared at Shego and yelled, "That does it!" With a maniacal look on her face, she suddenly turned to the audience. "Next on Marta Stewert Living, I'll show you how to prepare a delicious Shego Soufflé, diced and minced!" Marta grabbed a large kitchen knife and lunged at Shego, who did a back flip, landing on the kitchen counter.

"In a moment it's gonna be Marta Stewert: Dying! Try my 'Roast Marta' on for size, you witch!" Shego lit up her hands and fired off a plasma bolt at Marta, but Marta quickly deflected the shot with a skillet cover, the bolt striking one of the cameras in a shower of sparks.

As Marta pressed her attack, she yelled, "Removing pesky blood stains from prison garb is easily done with cold water and a bit of detergent!"

Shego fired off several more plasma bolts as she taunted, "When we were in prison, Marta, my shiv was more lethal, but yours definitely had the most comfortable, easy-to-grip handle! And next time you're in the slammer, maybe you can show us how to make license plates out of used kitchen utensils!" And with one more well aimed shot, she scored a direct hit on the hapless hostess.

As Marta collapsed to the floor, she closed the segment by saying, "Prison: it's not a good thing."

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Well, there's never a dull moment in Dr. D's whacked-out world! Next up, Ron's worst nightmare comes true. Update on Monday. Enjoy!