Chapter Five
Christmas morning is usually a grand affair for the Possible household. Every December the 25th, the children rise in unison with the sun at seven in the morning and rush downstairs to eye the presents beneath the tree. One of them - usually Kim, since the tweebs are always too busy ogling the gifts - is then sent up to wake the parents. After their own, private Christmas tradition of pleading for 'just five more minutes' of slumber; they don their robes and follow Kim downstairs. Once Dr.'s Possible had poured their first cups of coffee and have it reach their mouth at least twice, it's a free-for-all. A sumptuous breakfast follows presents, and then an afternoon of lazing about and playing with presents ensues. Kim, being a teenager and SO past the stage of playing with toys, usually reads in her room or meets up with Ron to hang out for a few hours. The entire affair ends with an evening with friends invited over to the Possible residence for dinner.
But this morning was different, since by ten to nine Kim had still not stirred. Despite her mother knocking on the door half an hour earlier; and every five minutes after that at the insistence of Jim and Tim, she was still fast asleep. Apparently she had forgotten which day of the year it was since, like her brothers, Kim was a sucker for presents and usually the first up (it was also her job to start the coffee pot). Only a moan from beneath the covers was proof that she was actually in her bed, but gave no indication as to when she would leave it. The twins had been getting more and more fidgety as the minutes dragged on, and their parents knew that they had better begin opening gifts before furniture - and possibly bodies - began to break. And so the man of the house was delegated to go upstairs and wake his first-born while his wife brewed a second pot of coffee in compensation. He opened Kim's door and climbed the stairs up to her room, treading softly on the carpeted floor.
The main floor of the room was littered with clothes, books, magazines, backpacks, shopping bags and pretty much everything else Kim's father had told her to put away before she left for the party. Her computer was still on, the screensaver flashing images of her and Ronald on missions together, as were a good number of lights and the radio too - at low volume though. She must have cracked a window open when she got home early that morning from New York, since he could feel a icy, winter breeze wafting through the room. This, he guessed, was probably why no part of his daughter's body was visible underneath the covers.
It had been almost three in the morning when they'd heard the front door open, and Kim call out softly: "I'm home", so her father was tempted to let her sleep in. She'd had it hard enough the past few weeks, with all the missions and exams, so he didn't really want to steal another night's sleep from her. It had reached a point where they no longer even got up to ask Kim how her evening went, since they too needed sleep, and waking up at three every morning didn't do a body good. But then he remembered the anxious twins downstairs, and envisioned the destruction that would follow any further postponement of the Christmas morning activities.
"Kim, Kimmie? Are you awake?" he called softly to the mane of fiery red hair snaking out from underneath the jumble of covers on the bed. A deep- throated groan came in reply, surprising him as the lump underneath the duvet began to shift. He guessed her voice must be hoarse from the previous evening's mission, but had a feeling he'd heard that voice before. And it wasn't that of his daughter, or any of his other children either.
"Kimmie-cub," he called out, hoping the use of her nickname would wake her. "It's Christmas morning, remember? Don't you want to come downstairs and open your presents?" he asked, hoping the promise of presents would expedite the awakening process, which usually took up to half an hour with Kim.
To his astonishment, a few odd blond locks poked out from under the covers, followed by the head and naked chest of Ron Stoppable. Dr. Possible gasped, not knowing what to say as Kim also rose from the bed, equally nude. When she noticed her father staring at her in utter disbelief, she quickly covered her bare breasts and smiled demurely, trying not to look him in the face in case she burst out laughing. But it was no laughing matter to Dr. Possible - definitely not. The time it took him to deduce what had happened in Kim's room after she and Ronald had returned home could only be described in millionths of a second. In a flash he switched from a still half asleep human male to the most dangerous mammal on the planet - the overprotective father.
Suppressing the urge to rip Ron's arms from his sockets for even contemplating such a heinous crime as touching his daughter, he scanned the room for any incriminating evidence. Evidence he could use to prove to the cops that beating the teenager to death was justified. Such as a pair of boxers, women's underwear and a red bra on the carpeted floor near the bed, followed by a half empty box of prophylactics on the bedside table. Dr. Possible knew in the back of his mind somewhere that he should be relieved that at least there wouldn't be a baby at the end of all this. But keeping his murderous half from beating the boy within an inch of his life - or further - was taking up all the constraint and patience he had left.
"RONALD!" he finally exclaimed once he regained the use of his vocal chords. Which he then summarily lost, and stood there with his mouth open like a stunned catfish.
Ron knew that there was no beating about the bush in this situation, and so tried to be as friendly as possible: "Hiya Dr. P, how's it going?"
Dr. Possible just stood there, fuming.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Ron continued, knowing that what he was about to do was idiotic at best, suicidal at worst. "But I think Kim's already opened her Christmas present. Isn't that right Kim?" He nudged Kim in a sensitive spot to evict a reply, but all she did was giggle uncontrollably - mostly in embarrassment.
"WHAT FUCKING PRESENT!" her father yelled, his face red with rage at the gall of this teenager.
Trying not to crack a smile, Ron replied softly with two words:
"Me, actually."
Author's Note: Drakken's Replacement will receive a new chapter by next Wednesday, so hope you all enjoy that. Can't promise anything earthshattering, but maybe a few rumbles here and there. Sorry for the length of this story, I know some of you will probably want it to be continued, but it ain't gonna happen. This was a test balloon, a way for me to see what writing and finishing an entire story is like, so I would appreciate as many comments as possible on what I can do better, what I should stop doing. That kinda stuff.
Thanks for the help guys,
LN
Christmas morning is usually a grand affair for the Possible household. Every December the 25th, the children rise in unison with the sun at seven in the morning and rush downstairs to eye the presents beneath the tree. One of them - usually Kim, since the tweebs are always too busy ogling the gifts - is then sent up to wake the parents. After their own, private Christmas tradition of pleading for 'just five more minutes' of slumber; they don their robes and follow Kim downstairs. Once Dr.'s Possible had poured their first cups of coffee and have it reach their mouth at least twice, it's a free-for-all. A sumptuous breakfast follows presents, and then an afternoon of lazing about and playing with presents ensues. Kim, being a teenager and SO past the stage of playing with toys, usually reads in her room or meets up with Ron to hang out for a few hours. The entire affair ends with an evening with friends invited over to the Possible residence for dinner.
But this morning was different, since by ten to nine Kim had still not stirred. Despite her mother knocking on the door half an hour earlier; and every five minutes after that at the insistence of Jim and Tim, she was still fast asleep. Apparently she had forgotten which day of the year it was since, like her brothers, Kim was a sucker for presents and usually the first up (it was also her job to start the coffee pot). Only a moan from beneath the covers was proof that she was actually in her bed, but gave no indication as to when she would leave it. The twins had been getting more and more fidgety as the minutes dragged on, and their parents knew that they had better begin opening gifts before furniture - and possibly bodies - began to break. And so the man of the house was delegated to go upstairs and wake his first-born while his wife brewed a second pot of coffee in compensation. He opened Kim's door and climbed the stairs up to her room, treading softly on the carpeted floor.
The main floor of the room was littered with clothes, books, magazines, backpacks, shopping bags and pretty much everything else Kim's father had told her to put away before she left for the party. Her computer was still on, the screensaver flashing images of her and Ronald on missions together, as were a good number of lights and the radio too - at low volume though. She must have cracked a window open when she got home early that morning from New York, since he could feel a icy, winter breeze wafting through the room. This, he guessed, was probably why no part of his daughter's body was visible underneath the covers.
It had been almost three in the morning when they'd heard the front door open, and Kim call out softly: "I'm home", so her father was tempted to let her sleep in. She'd had it hard enough the past few weeks, with all the missions and exams, so he didn't really want to steal another night's sleep from her. It had reached a point where they no longer even got up to ask Kim how her evening went, since they too needed sleep, and waking up at three every morning didn't do a body good. But then he remembered the anxious twins downstairs, and envisioned the destruction that would follow any further postponement of the Christmas morning activities.
"Kim, Kimmie? Are you awake?" he called softly to the mane of fiery red hair snaking out from underneath the jumble of covers on the bed. A deep- throated groan came in reply, surprising him as the lump underneath the duvet began to shift. He guessed her voice must be hoarse from the previous evening's mission, but had a feeling he'd heard that voice before. And it wasn't that of his daughter, or any of his other children either.
"Kimmie-cub," he called out, hoping the use of her nickname would wake her. "It's Christmas morning, remember? Don't you want to come downstairs and open your presents?" he asked, hoping the promise of presents would expedite the awakening process, which usually took up to half an hour with Kim.
To his astonishment, a few odd blond locks poked out from under the covers, followed by the head and naked chest of Ron Stoppable. Dr. Possible gasped, not knowing what to say as Kim also rose from the bed, equally nude. When she noticed her father staring at her in utter disbelief, she quickly covered her bare breasts and smiled demurely, trying not to look him in the face in case she burst out laughing. But it was no laughing matter to Dr. Possible - definitely not. The time it took him to deduce what had happened in Kim's room after she and Ronald had returned home could only be described in millionths of a second. In a flash he switched from a still half asleep human male to the most dangerous mammal on the planet - the overprotective father.
Suppressing the urge to rip Ron's arms from his sockets for even contemplating such a heinous crime as touching his daughter, he scanned the room for any incriminating evidence. Evidence he could use to prove to the cops that beating the teenager to death was justified. Such as a pair of boxers, women's underwear and a red bra on the carpeted floor near the bed, followed by a half empty box of prophylactics on the bedside table. Dr. Possible knew in the back of his mind somewhere that he should be relieved that at least there wouldn't be a baby at the end of all this. But keeping his murderous half from beating the boy within an inch of his life - or further - was taking up all the constraint and patience he had left.
"RONALD!" he finally exclaimed once he regained the use of his vocal chords. Which he then summarily lost, and stood there with his mouth open like a stunned catfish.
Ron knew that there was no beating about the bush in this situation, and so tried to be as friendly as possible: "Hiya Dr. P, how's it going?"
Dr. Possible just stood there, fuming.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Ron continued, knowing that what he was about to do was idiotic at best, suicidal at worst. "But I think Kim's already opened her Christmas present. Isn't that right Kim?" He nudged Kim in a sensitive spot to evict a reply, but all she did was giggle uncontrollably - mostly in embarrassment.
"WHAT FUCKING PRESENT!" her father yelled, his face red with rage at the gall of this teenager.
Trying not to crack a smile, Ron replied softly with two words:
"Me, actually."
Author's Note: Drakken's Replacement will receive a new chapter by next Wednesday, so hope you all enjoy that. Can't promise anything earthshattering, but maybe a few rumbles here and there. Sorry for the length of this story, I know some of you will probably want it to be continued, but it ain't gonna happen. This was a test balloon, a way for me to see what writing and finishing an entire story is like, so I would appreciate as many comments as possible on what I can do better, what I should stop doing. That kinda stuff.
Thanks for the help guys,
LN