Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from Kim Possible are owned by Disney the great and powerful. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

This is an add-on to You Rub Me the Wrong Way. After college Kim and Ron began It's Possible, with Wade as a partner. A grateful(?) client presented them with a bonus reward(?) for their help – an ancient lamp with a pale green genie. The problem is that genie has a serious attitude problem and, like Ron, wants to get Kim in bed. Set soon after It's Possible rescued Monkey Fist from an imp infestation.

"Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" comes from Rodgers and Hart musical Pal Joey (1940).

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

Wade finished his notes for the 9:30 meeting, "And Monkey Fist's payment for our services has cleared. He wants to be detailed..." The young black man looked at the genie. "You really left him with a tail?"

Shego shrugged, "Well, I turned him into a dog to sniff out any imps we'd missed. I worried he might stiff us for the bill, so I figured him leaving him with the tail provided some incentive to pay fast."

Kim told her, "We've been paid. Can you remove the tail from here, or do you need to go back to England?"

"Oh, I can do it from here. Give me a day or two to think about it."

"You told him you'd remove it after–"

"The bastard called me a succubus!"

"It doesn't matter. His check cleared."

"You know I don't like Fist," added Ron, "but I feel a little sorry for the guy... I mean, none of his pants fit right now and... A dog tail. I wonder if he wags his butt when he's happy?"

Kim sighed, "I doubt he's going to be happy until his house gets repaired from the imp damage. Shego, It's Possible always tries to be fair with clients. You told him you'd remove the tail when–"

"Fine. Alakazam! There, we're done with Monkey Butt."

"Doubt that," predicted Ron.

"Probably true," Wade agreed. "Do I need to mention he made another offer to buy Shego's lamp?"

"No," Kim told him. "I told him no way. That won't change."

"Wished you mentioned it earlier," grumbled Shego. "I wouldn't have removed the tail so fast. Maybe I should–"

"No," Kim told her firmly. She looked at Wade, "Finished for the day?"

Wade began to nod yes, then Shego spoke, "No. I've got something for the agenda."

"What's up?"

"Way too much pro bono work around here. You got a new partner, one with incredible talent and ability – and it's crazy you stick her in the corner of a waiting room." Shego gestured to her ornate desk, occupying a large portion of the room. "You need more paying gigs."

"We're trying to serve as role models, we–"

"Role models still need to eat, and deserve their own offices. Now, you've got a first-class genie on staff and–"

Ron snorted slightly.

"Fine," snapped Shego, "a third class genie. That still opens up more potential clients. And most of them pay in gold."

"I'm, uh, not really sure how we advertise... How common are imp problems?" Wade wanted to know.

"Not common, but there's other shit we can do now that I'm here. Let me take care of getting the word out."

Wade, Kim, and Ron looked at each other. Rufus popped out of Ron's pocket and shrugged. Finally Kim offered a cautious, "I guess we're here to help others. Go ahead."

8:45 a.m. the next day. Wade sat in his office, typing up a report on his analysis of satellite pictures from Egypt's outer desert for the nation's Department of Antiquities. Ron was in the break room, cleaning mugs and the coffee machine in anticipation of brewing up a pot for the morning staff meeting. A naked mole rat helped him dry mugs. Kim sat at her desk, falling further and further behind as she struggled to try to catch up with emails of thanks, questions, requests for interviews, and congratulations from around the world. Shego sat at her desk, filing her nails and bills in Wade's office.

The average person, of course, can not file nails and billing statements at the same time, especially in two different rooms. The average person is not a genie.

The door to It's Possible burst open. That happened frequently. Ron, who watched a good many mystery movies, predicted that someday a stranger would stagger in and collapse – a knife stuck in his back and the name of a suspect on his dying lips. It had not happened yet. This morning, as on far too many other mornings, it was a familiar figure – Mr. Stephens, the building manager, bellowing, "This is an outrage! It's Possible–"

"Alakazam!" Shego shot back, and Stephens froze in place. The startled genie had dropped the billing files and swore a small oath as she began to gather them by hand. By coincidence, despite not knowing Ron's desire for a dying stranger to stagger through the door, she gave brief consideration to sticking her nail file in his back – but suspected she'd be the one required to clean the carpet.

"I thought you don't need to say 'Alakazam' to do your thing," Ron called from the break room.

"I don't," Shego shot back. "And I wasn't 'doing my thing' I was working when... Oh, never mind. I thought you meant..."

Wade and Kim appeared at their office doors. "You could have let him say what he was outraged about this time," Kim chided, "before you froze him."

The black man came to Shego's defense, "But this way we're all here to... Ron, you coming or not?"

"Do I have to? He hates me."

"He hates all of us," Kim reminded him as Ron appeared at the door to the break room. "Shego, please."

"Fine," the genie muttered. She glanced at Ron, "Just for you, bubbeleh," and snapped her fingers.

"–is causing more..." The startled Mr. Stephens stopped. The entire staff of It's Possible had magically appeared in front of his eyes. And, speaking of magically appearing, the door behind Shego's desk was there again, the door that couldn't exist because it would have connected this office suite with the Funeral Director's Professional Association on the other side. But there was no door on the opposite side of the wall.

"Look!" Shego shouted and pointed behind Stephens.

Mr. Stephens quickly turned to look, and saw an empty hallway. He turned back. The door behind the green woman's back was, again, gone.

"What did we do this time?" Ron asked cheerfully.

"I... You..." The building manager slowly exhaled as he pulled his thoughts together. "There is a frog downstairs wanting to see you."

"A frog? Wants to see us?"

"That's what he says."

Kim looked puzzled, "A talking frog?"

"Ms Possible," Stephens began in a sarcastic tone, "is there any other office in this building– Nay, is there any other office in this city, the state, or in the entire world that a frog would want to see? It's Possible has had the most bizarre–" Rufus poked a head out of Ron's pocket, "See, like that thing!"

"Rufus is not a frog," Ron responded in a soothing tone. "Now, if there is another naked mole rat downstairs we'd be happy to–"

Mr. Stephens shook a fist at Ron, "It's a frog!"

"He's a chicken I tell you, a giant chicken!" Shego laughed. Everyone stared at Shego, puzzled. "Sorry," the genie shrugged. "I heard the line somewhere. Doesn't matter. I say if the frog wants help we should see what he needs."

"I'm not going to kiss him," Kim said firmly.

"And you," Shego told the building manager are firmly, "are interfering with It's Possible in the course of normal business duties. I should call the police and have you arrested."

"Fine," muttered Mr. Stephens, and turned to go, "I'll send him up. Don't want him in the lobby anyway."

As the door closed behind the building manager Kim asked Shego, "Any idea how a talking frog heard about us? This sounds like magic."

"I told you It's Possible needs to branch out."

"Yes you did. And you said you'd get the word out. My question was, any idea how the frog heard about it?"

"Well, not specifically. But I've put some messages up on some of the magical forums."

Wade groaned, "It's Possible is putting out Spam®?"

"I prefer to think of it as a fine, goose liver pâté."

"You said people who needed magic help paid in gold," Ron reminded her.

"I said usually."

"Well, I don't think frogs have pockets."

"You never know," Shego argued, "he might hop in wearing pants."

The frog didn't. He was the largest frog anyone had seen. How large he was depends upon how one measures a frog. If stretched out on the floor he would have been more than two meters from the tip of his green nose to the tips of his equally green toes. Sitting in a normal frog posture on the floor he was close to a meter in height. It wasn't clear if sitting in a human posture would be anatomically possible, but he eyed a chair wistfully.

"I 'ee' you 'o he'p me," begged the frog.

"Say what?" Ron asked.

Wade explained, "The sounds for d, j, l, n, and t all require the use of the tip of the tongue touching the teeth or velar ridge in the mouth."

"'As 'rue," confirmed the frog, "A'd 'is 'ongue is 'oo 'ong."

"Oh, the 'th' sound also," Wade added to the list.

"So what did he say," repeated Ron.

"He wants our help," translated Kim. "His tongue is too long to enable him to make some sounds. From the fact he knows English and finds the length of his tongue unfamiliar I'm guessing he... Or she–"

"He," put in the amphibian.

"Finds his condition a new one." Kim glanced at the genie, "Can you figure out what spell he's had placed on him?"

Shego held up her hands in a 'how would I know gesture'. "This isn't anything that looks familiar to me. Let me check my lamp and grab a magic identification text scroll from genie school."

The door reappeared behind Shego's desk and the genie returned to the lamp for a moment.

"She's not the smartest genie in the world," Ron explained to the frog.

The frog looked worried. The frog had looked worried when he hopped in. His mood had not improved, Ron's words doing nothing to make him feel any better.

"You should be careful what you say," Wade warned Ron, "we don't know how good her hearing is."

A couple minutes later Shego returned to the waiting room carrying a bulky scroll. "Wade's right, and give me a sec. The index on this thing sucks."

Ron's jaw drop, "You heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Wade said we don't know how good your hearing is, and you said he's right."

"In the brief time I've been here," Shego told him, as she scanned a couple columns of writing in a language only Wade might have recognized at the end of the scroll, "I've learned that you talk behind people's back, and Wade is almost never wrong. So, on entering a room and saying Wade is right I'm also guaranteed to be... middle of column two hundred twenty-nine. Alakazam."

She let go of the scroll, which remained suspended in the air as the scroll turned itself to the desired column.

As Shego sought for a possible answer Kim Possible sought further information, "So, uh, Mister... Do you have a name?"

"Price."

"You're a prince?"

"'o, my 'ame is Price, 'omas Price."

Ron looked confused, "If he can't make an 'n' sound, how do we tell if his name is Price or he's a prince."

Shego didn't look up from the scroll, "Kim, better make sure on the name thing. Princes into frogs is classic. Prices into frogs, not so much."

Despite the difficulty in comprehension Kim was able to discover that Thomas Price was an unmarried banker. He had gone to work yesterday morning, as usual, after his usual breakfast of raisin bran. He had parked in his usual spot, sat at his usual desk, and began his usual business of reviewing loan payment histories. He had eaten his usual lunch. His morning coffee break had gone as usual, but during his afternoon coffee break he had began his metamorphosis.

Ron was curious, "How did you hear about us? Did Shego–"

"I didn't put ads anyplace a banker should be seeing them," Shego interrupted. "And shut up a minute. I may have something."

"Hold that thought," Ron told the frog, and fell silent.

The genie made a gesture, and nothing happened. Shego frowned and muttered "Damn..." An 'Alakazam' produced a pair of glasses, with each lens a different color, she put them on and gave another, "Damn." She shook her head and told them, "I got a couple things in my lamp to try." She told the banker, "You can tell them how you heard about us," and went back to the lamp via the door behind her desk.

Apparently, on discovering he had been transformed into a frog, Thomas Price had followed standard procedure and alerted HR. Human Resources didn't have transformation into a frog in their manual, and had pointed out to the unfortunate loan officer that he was no longer human and therefore out of their jurisdiction. A gypsy fortune teller a block down the street had directed him to It's Possible, based on an ad she knew she would read later in the day on the Fortune Tellers Forum. Over night he had hopped out to–

"And Wade is right again," Shego said, returning through the door with her arms full.

"He hasn't said anything," protested Ron.

"My shekels are still on him being right and you being wrong." Neither of the two devices made of bronze rods and crystals produced any information. She put a silver bowl on the coffee table and measured out a small amount of incense from a gold canister. She snapped her fingers and ignited the incense. Multi-colored fumes rose in the air and formed letters, 'What is your question?'

"We need to know what transformed this guy into a frog."

The smoke of the incense grew thicker. It swirled around Price, changing colors as it moved. Letters again formed, "Hell if I know."

"You're the incense of Imhotep and that's the fucking best you can do? C'mon, you can do better than that!"

The letters changed once more, "Good luck, loser."

"Next time I'm in Baghdad I'm so castrating the guy who sold me that," muttered Shego.

"Does that mean we can rule out magic?" asked Kim.

Shego closed one eye and thought a moment, "Well, I think we can rule out big magic."

Ron wanted more details, "Big magic? Does that mean there's little magic?"

"I don't know if the little stuff counts."

"For a change of pace I'll go with Ron's question," seconded Wade.

"Stuff like geomancy, necromancy – there's some weird shit, witchcraft, shamanism–"

"Back up," Wade requested, "I don't believe in witches."

The green woman cocked her head to one side and stared at the black man, "You're sitting in a room with a giant frog and telling a genie you don't believe in witches?"

"Point taken."

Kim spoke up, "In fairy tales witches turned people into frogs."

"Yeah, in fairy tales. Real witches don't know enough to–"

"Uh, Shego?" Ron pointed out in a hesitant voice, "you, ah, sometimes aren't the world's greatest authority for your kind of magic. Any chance–"

"Look, I–"

"Ron has a point," Wade agreed. "And we're sort of desperate here. What can you say about witches? The ones I know–"

"I doubt you know one," Shego snorted. "You got the people following so-called ancient rituals – that were cribbed from the Masons, you've got people who call themselves neo-pagans and think it's trendy, you've got–"

"Satanists?" Kim asked.

"Nah, that was bullshit the priests and physicians came up with to justify burning people they didn't like at the stake. Far as I can tell it's closer to science. You mix this and that and usually help someone... Although poisoning the occasional bad neighbor happened too, I'll bet."

Wade seemed skeptical, "Science?"

"I mean, the cause and effect is kind of wonky, but they need potions and other physical stuff for everything. They don't have game. And by game I mean they don't have any Alakazam."

Kim sought clarification, "While I'm hearing a certain level of bias towards other forms of magic, I believe I'm hearing that there are other forms of magic. The things you did when you were trying to figure out what happened to Mister Price, did they only look for what you called 'big' magic or would they have been able to detect other kinds?"

The genie appeared reluctant to admit, "This is one of those times when it looks bad because I say I wasn't paying attention in class, isn't it?"

"Looks that way."

The frog tried to say something. It wasn't clear what he meant to express, although context suggested a plea for help.

"Is there anyone we can ask for help in seeing if it was witchcraft or some other kind of magic?" Wade asked.

"A consultant?" countered Shego, "they charge too much and–"

"Our goal is to help others," Kim reminded her. "You advertised that–"

"Fine!" snapped the genie. "I don't know anybody off the top of my head, but let me get on a forum or chat room that might help."

"Uh, before you go," Ron suggested. "Can you turn Mister Price back into some human form?"

"No."

"You've turned me into a girl, and into a milkshake! You can't make an enchanted frog human?"

"First, we don't know that he's enchanted. This could be some lame-ass scientist wanting to take over the world by turning everyone into frogs. But, if it is magic, it's dangerous to lay one spell on over a different kind of magic. I mean, maybe there'd be no problem and everything would work perfectly. However, sometimes putting one spell over a different kind of magic can really, really screw things up and it would take a very competent sorcerer to have a chance of undoing it. And we ain't got no sorcerer on call."

Ron wanted a memory jog, "I think you said there're magicians, wizards, and sorcerers? And Monkey Fist was a magician?"

"Those are the categories. And then there are ranks... Monkey Butt is a mid-grade magician... We'll say an orange belt. But he should have been at least a white belt wizard for what he was trying to do. Now, let me to see if I can find a consultant."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the waiting area after Shego went back through the door to her lamp. No one knew what to say to the frog, but even Ron realized that, "I know how you feel," would have been inappropriate. Wade, on the off-chance that science might have a role in the transformation tried to gather information by questioning Price on his movements and activities the day before.

Eventually Shego returned. "Any luck?" asked Kim.

"Define luck. I got someone who says they'll call a witch doctor for us. I said we don't need a doctor for witch, but the thing in chat said he or she could call Silence for us – I don't know if they were pulling my leg or they don't understand what we need. I suggest we find... Where do we stick the amphibian to get him out of the way?"

"We're trying to help him, remember?"

"We've got nothing, remember?"

Wade coughed, "I've been trying to find out all I can while you were gone. There may be something here that will help."

"Doubt it," thought Shego, but said nothing as Wade began telling her what he'd learned in her absence.

Wade was still talking when there was a knock on the door... On Shego's door. The genie's jaw dropped in amazement and she stared in bewilderment, "That's impossible!"

Ron, always polite, called, "Come in."

The door opened. The black man who opened the door chuckled, "It worked." He stood slightly over six feet tall, but seemed taller due to his lean frame. His closely trimmed hair and beard were snow white. He carried an old-fashioned medical bag. His fingers seemed preternaturally long and Ron guessed he could have palmed a basketball. His suit looked expensively tailored, and Shego wondered what he'd charge for the consultation.

"Good morning. My name is Kim Possible, and you are?"

"Silence. Doctor Silence," he told her and handed his card. 'Jesse Silence, WD, PhD, WPA, OOS.' It also gave information for phone and website. He glanced at Shego. "Is she yours? It was rude of me to use her doorway. But I've never encountered a genie before and wanted to see if I could access her portal."

"You can address me directly, and you can fucking stay out of my... How the Hell did you do that. No way could a witch–"

"Cross-training," he explained. "I'm also a level four wizard."

"Yellow belt," Shego told the others. "Military would be a lieutenant."

Kim tried to take control of the conversation. "Thank you for coming, Doctor Silence. Shego is a partner in It's Possible, not someone who can be owned–"

"I meant no disrespect. It is how most masters... A most offensive term–"

"Certainly is," Shego agreed.

"–treat genies. You will introduce me to your other partners?"

"Yes. Thomas Price, a banker, took on this shape. Oh, the woman who asked for help is Shego." The genie nodded her head slightly. Kim gestured to her immediate right, "Ron Stoppable." Ron waved. "And Wade Load."

The black man's brow furrowed in thought, "Wade Load... That sounds..." He stared at Wade, "Doctor Wade Load? The genius?"

"I don't use the doctor."

"Nonsense, young man. Earned doctorates... I believe you have two, at a young age. You have earned the title and deserve the respect it confers."

"My university didn't emphasize the title."

Dr. Silence shrugged, "Mine did. And, may I also tell you of the pride I felt for an African-American to be the youngest recipient of a PhD ever?"

"Uh, the news articles messed that up a little," Wade explained. "Youngest at my university."

"But one of the three youngest ever to earn two," Kim added, "and the youngest person holding a doctorate in the United States for years."

"But not now," Wade pointed out. "Thirteen-year old earned one last year."

"Which doesn't change the fact of your accomplishments, Doctor Load."

Something which sounded very much like a, "Hey!" or at least as close to a 'hey' as a giant frog could manage, came from Thomas Price.

"Ah yes, I take it that you are hoping for some sort of diagnosis for his current condition?"

"That's it in one, Sherlock," Shego confirmed.

Silence looked slightly exasperated and glanced at Kim, "I am unfamiliar with genies, but–"

"She's really unique," Ron assured him. "Really unique... Uh, not that I know a lot of genies either."

"Please, Shego, Doctor Silence is here to help Mister Price," Kim reminded the genie. "Company manners."

"But he used..." She looked at the black man. "Sorry. This seems like it's probably magic, but I can't figure out how. It's frustrating."

"Apology accepted. And your frustration understood." He looked over at Wade, "I can't promise results. I'm certain a genie has far more power than I possess. If she found nothing I may be equally unable, but I shall see if I can provide a diagnosis."

"I, uh, didn't take the class in other kinds of magic," Shego offered in an attempt to explain her failure. "It, uh, was an elective course."

Kim and Ron stood up and gave Silence the couch. The doctor took what appeared to be an antique otoscope from his bag. "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue and say 'ah'."

The tongue flipped out more than a yard and stuck to Shego's left breast. The green woman swore quietly and considered tying it in a knot. On the chance the Price was still unaccustomed to his new tongue she simply brushed it aside.

"Most curious... most curious," Dr. Silence muttered as he continued his examination. After finishing he put his equipment away and pulled out a small notebook out of a pocket, he flipped through the pages for a few seconds and frowned.

"Did you discover anything?" Kim asked as he returned the book to its pocket.

"There is some sort of magic upon him. It gives every indication of being witchcraft, but not normal witchcraft, and would take an exceedingly powerful witch to brew something of this potency. However, there are no members of the WPA listed anywhere near... Is your frog local or a referral from another office?"

"Local."

"My directory shows no member of the the WPA anywhere near Middleton."

"Works Progress Administration?"

"Witches' Professional Association. Now, there are witches who don't belong to the association. They call themselves independents, but we refer to them as scabs. This one appears unusually powerful in his or her ability to apply a curse. Please believe me, turning someone into a frog is entirely outside the code of professional conduct for members of the WPA. If you are able to identify the witch we need to monitor that individual – that's the sort of person who gives witchcraft a bad name."

Kim's question was, "Can you help Mister Price?"

"If you can find the potion, or other source for the curse, I can probably prepare a counter-draught."

"So, you'll stay and help?"

He shook his head 'no'. "I have too many patients to attend to. I'm late for my next appointment now. If you can find the source of the curse, I can help."

"But how can we find–"

"You appear eminently qualified. You have a genie on staff, who certainly knows more magic than I, and a super-genius. You appear to be in better position to determine the source of the curse than I."

Ron asked a quick question, "Shego does transformations, but she said it could be dangerous to put one kind of magic on top of another kind. She didn't know what was wrong. You've, uh, examined and, uh... Would it be safe?"

"Ms Shego is certainly correct. I don't really understand her magic, but I know mixing forms can be dangerous."

Shego looked slightly smug, until the witch requested, "Will you allow me to use your portal to return to my practice?"

The genie opened her mouth to say no, but caught Kim's glare from the corner of her eye before the word came out. A kindlier, gentler genie had a better chance of getting Kim into bed. "Certainly," she told the witch in a gracious tone, "thank you for taking time from your day to help." She managed to finish the sentence without grinding her teeth.

"No, no. The gratitude is entirely mine for this opportunity to meet Doctor Load and a genie," Silence assured Shego as he stepped through the door and disappeared.

"Pompous jerk," Shego muttered after his departure. "No damn help."

"I thought he was very polite," Wade told her.

"He was an ass-kisser."

"He rightly appreciated Wade's intellect," Kim told Shego. She looked at Wade, "If you feel like we take you for granted, let me know. He's right. We really need you."

"Fine, Wade's a genius," grumbled Shego. "We already knew that. What did he tell us we didn't already know? And he used my portal – without permission!"

"He said you've got a lot of power," Ron reminded her. "And he complimented you."

"I don't remember that."

"You were smart to recognize it was a kind of magic you were unfamiliar with. And you were right to tell me no when I suggested you give him a human shape."

"Okay, he knows his stuff. I still want to know how he used my door. And don't give me that cross-training thing. It makes no sense... At least I don't think so."

"How abou' me?" complained the frog.

"Doctor Silence was right, we need to find what brought on the– I think he called it a curse."

Ron seconded Kim, "Looks like a curse to me."

"Assuming for a minute that he's right, we need to find some sort of environmental factor – something he ate, drank, or inhaled as the catalyst for the transformation."

"But we don't know what to look for," Shego reminded them, "he didn't tell us!"

"He didn't know either," Kim pointed out. "And his opinion was that between your magic and Wade's brain It's Possible would be better able to discover the witch and whatever the witch used than he could."

Shego glanced at Wade. The young man shrugged, "Looks like we're handling this one," he told her. "Any idea how long a potion takes to go into effect? Should we start at the bank or his home?"

"From the little I know, if the magic was given in the form of a liquid – which is to say potion – it works pretty fast. I'd guess gas works fast..." She glanced at the frog, "Did you brown bag it for lunch, bring food from home?"

The frog nodded 'yes'.

"Bank first, then we go through his fridge and cupboard if we don't find anything there," represented Shego's vote. "Alakazam!"

"Um, Shego?" Wade wanted to know, "why did..."

"Two hard-boiled detectives, out investigating the dark underbelly of Middleton in our search for unspeakable evil. We need a noir look."

"Okay, I get the trench coat and fedora... But why are we in black-and-white instead of color?"