Chapter 4 - Love is All Around Us
"Something's wrong with Ron!"
"What is it?"
"Well...he keeps laughing."
"Have you tried telling him to stop?"
"I wish I could, Wade."
"What happened?"
"We were at the bakery and..."
"There were these cookies. They..."
"Didn't I tell you not to touch anything?"
"...I guess you might've mentioned that, yeah."
"So, what's wrong with him?"
"I'll run a scan. You're not gonna believe this, Kim. Ron's blood contains strong traces of nitrous oxide."
"Laughing gas?"
"Luckily, the gas was distributed in such a way so that it could affect him, but not harm him."
"Thank goodness. Is there anyway to help him?"
"Not really. All Ron can do is wait for the gas to work its way through him. The effects should wear off in no time, like when it's used at the dentist's office."
(...the Stoppables' residence...Thursday morning...)
Rufus was forced to forgo his usual sleeping place - on Ron's bed - last night, as his owner giggled in his sleep throughout the night. The naked mole rat awoke from a spot on the dresser to the sight of the rising sun...and the sounds of Ron chortling. Rufus groaned at the dual stimuli and laid back down.
Ron performed his daily ablutions - showering, getting dressed - before going down the stairs. He heads to the kitchen, where his parents are sitting at the table.
"Good morning, Ronald."
"How did you sleep, honey?"
"Oh, pretty good, considering...", Ron stated before breaking into a chuckle.
Thankfully, the Stoppables weren't as hysterical as some parents might've been given Ron's condition. They understand that saving the world is a risky business. Even so, they were concerned about their son.
"Ronald, I think we should talk."
"Okay. About what?", he said, digging into his plate of eggs and toast.
"We've been talking, your mother and I, and we think maybe you should stay home today."
"Wha!"
"It's just that...well...this laughing thing; it might get you into trouble."
"We're just trying to do what's best for you."
"Mom, Dad, it's nice that you care for me, but wouldn't I know what's best for me?"
Ron's parents 'hemmed' and 'hawwed' over this question. They say that experience is the best teacher. Too bad Ron isn't the best student.
"Besides, it's not like I can laugh myself into nonexistence."
Ron gets up from his chair and heads for the door.
"Trust me. I'll be fine."
(...Middleton High...an hour later...)
The first bell goes off. Ron sits in a classroom surrounded by fellow students. The familiar voice of Steve Barkin cut through the silence.
"Listen up, people! I feel the need to remind you that this is study hall, a place for studying and working quietly. If you must sleep, then do so quietly. If you absolutely must make out, then get a room and do it quietly!"
Mr. Barkin sits at the desk in front of the class and opens a newspaper. Ron looks around and opens a notebook. His focus on his Latin notes is broken by the jovial noise coming out of his mouth.
Remembering Barkin's rule, he puts his hand over his mouth, muffling the sounds. Unfortunately, they fail to go unnoticed by the studious ones, the sleepers, the make-out artists...and Mr. Barkin. All eyes focus on Ron, who quickly takes his hand from his mouth and folds his hands on his desk.
"What?"
Mr. Barkin puts down his newspaper and approaches the blonde boy, who stifles a laugh.
"Do you find study hall a source of amusement?"
"Not really."
"Then would you mind enlightening me on why you can't do something as simple as being quiet?"
"Yeah. It's the...um...laughing flu", Ron blurted out before flashing a nervous grin.
"Laughing flu?"
"It's very rare. But don't worry; it's not contagious, though", Ron said, wiping his brow.
He looked up at Barkin, hoping the ex-Marine would buy his obvious lie. Barkin smirked at him.
"You know, Stoppable, I think I have heard of the laughing flu."
The students gasped and Ron's eyes goggled at the statement.
"You have?"
"Yes, and, as luck would have it, I know how to help you."
Barkin walks to the desk and scribbles on a piece of paper. He walks back and hands it to Ron.
"Get this prescription filled in room 313 today after school."
Ron looked at the paper. It was a detention slip.
"Well, at least it's legible."
(...the gymnasium...that afternoon...)
The rest of the day failed to improve for Ron: unlike when he was struck by the truth ray, the cookie was a curse. His outbursts got him into trouble in each of his classes. Try as he may, he couldn't keep quiet.
The cheerleading squad had just finished a routine...one that required the participation of their mascot. Ron rushes into the gym. He holds onto the door handle breathing heavily.
"Sorry, ladies. I...", he gasped and giggled.
The girls turn his way and shoot daggers at him. Kim goes to Ron.
"Where were you?"
"Many of the teachers in this school don't quite share my sense of humor. They gave me detention. For the next two weeks."
"Ouch."
Ron notices the girls behind Kim and grimaces.
"Maybe I should be going."
Kim glances behind her.
"Good idea."
Ron leaves the gym. Tara, the one cheerleader who hadn't stared down Ron, walks up to Kim.
"Hey, Kim."
"Hey, Tara. What's up?"
"Well...the dance is tomorrow, and I wanted to ask you something."
Kim glares nervously at Tara, then chuckles weakly.
"Um, Tara...I'm flattered and all, but I don't know if I'd be up to...us, going..."
"What? No, it's not like that. It's...I have this friend."
"A friend?", Kim said, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay. It's me. I really want to ask this guy out, but he's not what you'd consider..."
"Smart? Graceful? Clean?"
"Popular. I'm kinda worried about what people might think."
"Tara, do you like him?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then there's your answer. You just need to follow your heart. If people don't like it, too bad. If it's what you really want, then you'll be fine."
"Thanks, Kim."
Tara gives Kim a hug and runs out.
(...the Stoppables' residence...an hour later...)
Ron sits in his room by the phone. After a few moments of drumming his fingers on his bed, he picks the receiver and dials.
(...a movie theater...)
Within the ticket booth, Zita hands a ticket to a young man.
"Enjoy the show, sir."
The phone rings and Zita picks it up.
"Middleton Cinemas. This is Zita. How may I help you?"
"Hey. I..."
Ron couldn't continue. He'd been pretty nervous about asking Zita to the dance, and the cookie seemed to make things worse. Ron broke into laughter tinged with apprehension.
"Sir, is there something I can help you with?"
More laughter from Ron's end.
"Goodbye, sir."
Zita slams the receiver down.
(...the Stoppables' residence...)
Ron hangs up the phone.
"This is so not good", he states somberly...before bursting into more laughter.
(...outside Bueno Nacho...an hour later...)
Brick and Monique walk down the street. The charm lessons were going better. Brick was determined to win Tara back, and he knew that these skills would be the key.
"I really want to thank you, Monique."
"It's no problem. I just know that Tara will be impressed."
The wind blows and Monique shivers a little. She cradles her arms to keep warm. Brick notices her.
"What's wrong?"
"It's gotten really cold all of a sudden."
Without a word, Brick takes his jacket off and drapes it around her.
"Thanks. I don't remember teaching you this."
"It doesn't need to be taught. Someone's cold, you try to warm them up. I never thought of this when I was with Tara."
"Are you sure you'll be all right?"
"Cold never bothers me. You'd be surprised how many games I've played in weather like this."
Without thinking, Monique rests her head on Brick's arm as they continue walking. Moments later, her eyes snap open and she looks at the jock.
'What am I doing? Did I just... No! I'm trying to help Brick win back Tara. I can't be falling for him...can I?'
(...the highway...)
In their truck of tainted treats, Drakken and Shego head down the road. Drakken glances over at his striking (in more ways than one) associate in the driver's seat and breathed a sigh.
For years, he'd had something of a schoolboy crush on Shego. He never said anything though; take away the pale skin and glowing green hands and she was very much the kind of girl who scorned him in school.
Sure, the former Drew Lipsky was always a little...eccentric, but these girls, when they weren't mocking him, ignored him. They wouldn't even spit on him if he was on fire (and funnily enough, this applied to at least one day in chemistry class).
Given her caustic attitude, he was braced to expect more of the same from Shego...and yet, like the girls in school, he was strangely drawn to her combination of beauty and venom. Drakken decided that it would be better to ask her and face rejection than never know if there was something there.
Drakken turned to Shego and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried again.
"Shego..."
"Yes?"
"I...well..."
"What?"
"You see, I..."
"Spit it out!"
"I've had...feelings for you for quite some time, and I was wondering what you thought about the two of us becoming a couple."
Drakken nervously exhaled. It sounded a lot better in his head.
"The two of us...a couple?"
Drakken nodded. Shego was clearly shocked. This is the most forward Drakken had ever been (when not talking about world domination). In fact, this is perhaps the most forward any guy had been with her. She had always been intimidating. Before she could answer, she thought about their history together. Would this work out? Could this work out? For Shego, the answer was clear.
"I'm gonna say something I thought I'd never say to you."
"What's that?"
Shego leaned in close to Drakken.
"You're thinking too much!"
Shego turns toward the road. Drakken slumps down in his seat and looks to the starry sky.
'Couldn't hurt to ask.'
(...the Possibles' residence...an hour later...)
Kim sits on the living room couch, a sad expression on her face. Her parents sit on either side of her.
"What's wrong, Kimmie-cub?", Mr. Dr. Possible asked.
"The dance is tomorrow, and I have no one to go with."
"'With whom to go'."
"Pardon?"
"'With whom to go'. 'With' is a preposition."
"Great. I'm wallowing in misery and grammar lessons."
"What about Ron?", Mrs. Dr. Possible chimed in.
"He's already lining up a date...the last time I heard."
"Well, you should go anyway. I'm sure you'll have fun."
"Maybe you could go with one of your cheerleader friends."
"Dad...that kinda has a different connotation these days."
"How so?"
Sensing her husband's naivete about modern relationships, the elder woman interrupted: "You could always take your cousin Larry."
"You know, maybe I could go with a friend."
"Kim..."
"But it's Larry! My cousin! Who I'm re...to whom I'm related!"
"It would make up for getting him kicked out of Robot Rumble."
"That was six months ago. Surely, they'll let him rejoin."
Mr. Dr. Possible stands up.
"I'll never forget the first dance I shared with your mother. It was at the Meet-and-Greet of the Minds charity ball."
Mrs. Dr. Possible joins him.
"Our eyes met on the dance floor. We waltzed the night away."
The parents grab each other and start dancing. Kim sighs and goes to her room.
"Think about it, Kimmie-cub."