Puke
By S-Chrome
A/N: This here one-shot poked at my brain for a nice two weeks. Based on the song "Puke" by the one and only Eminem. Young Ron's thoughts after being rejected by Kim one too many times. But this time, he takes it to the stage.
Others: Rated T for rather foul language. It's rap music, what do you expect?
Disclaim-age: Ms. Possible and Mr. Stoppable, and all the bit players you know and love are property of Disney. Besides, if I was to use them in the way I am using them, Mr. Eisner would come after me with a tazer and a cattle-prod.
Every student from Freshman to Senior was in the auditorium for the yearly Middleton High School Talent Show. Every one from the students who wished the best to those vengeful seniors who would love nothing but to see these American Idol rejects fall flat on their face. The crowd of about 800 students stirred about in their chairs waiting for someone to announce why they're here... Or at least why they aren't being taught a lesson about what Cos Ø means... But that's a different story.
As the students began to settle down, out of the curtains came Mr. Barkin, the gruff instructor for every subject from Trigonometry to Home Ec, to Physics to Sociology. To say he's malleable would be a stretch. Most would say he needed the money.
The large man took hold of the microphone. "Testing, 1... 2..." he said. Now that the mic was nice and warmed up...
"Welcome students to the fifth annual Middleton High School Talent Show.", he said with absolutely no gusto. The students applauded half-heartedly.
"These students are aspiring singers... or actors... or whatever... Let's just get to the first act." He continued. "First up in this disaster is Michael Jazz, he'll be playing the saxophone for our listening pleasure."
Out came Michael Jazz, a very tall lanky character with a bizarre looking grin on his face. Once again the crowd applauded half-heartedly with a few jeers of 'Freak' and 'Nerd' mixed in.
Once the applause and jeers stopped, Michael proceeded to make that saxophone whine... Or was it the spectators that were whining?
It must've been the spectators, because after a whole minute of something that had to be classified as noise, Barkin, while covering his ears of the atrocious racket had ushered Michael off of the stage, which, at that point, got the loudest cheers of the afternoon. The talent fiasco only continued, from one girl named Zita Flores, who thought she might be the next J.Lo, to a "soul" singer named Bryce who could undoubtedly put Michael Bolton to sleep. The acts plodded on with no possible end in sight.
After the last act, which was a boy juggling seven water balloons, Barkin took the microphone once again.
"That was Steve Waterloo, juggling balloons." Barkin noted. "Needless to say he's all wet." He joked, which eliticed a couple complementary coughs.
"Anyway," he said. "This is our last act," 'Thank god,' he said under his breath. "So, give a Middleton High School cheer for Josh Mankey, and his band, Wish."
Applause rang out through the auditorium, girls rushed to the stage area to see Mankey (and his band, they too are important, you know.) perform. Yes, indeed, it looked like there was finally going to be a winner in this showcase. Him and his band were without a doubt magnificent. At the end, the students cheers and applause were a little bit more than enough to declare him (and his band) the winner. Except...
"It seems that we have a late entrant." Barkin said, almost angrilly. Everybody try to put your hands together for Ron Stoppable.
The groans continued to filter throughout the auditorium as the lanky blond strolled out from the curtains and picked up the microphone.
"This," he said before pausing, "Goes out to a special someone," he continued. The music began playing in the background quietly as he continued his introduction. "A friend of mine who makes me so sick... That I could just..."
He stopped for a moment, to search for his target. 'Rats' he thought to himself... 'Where the heck was she!' he thought with desperation. After looking through the audience with his naked eye, he gave up his search.
'Oh well...' He thought again. 'The show must go on...' he thought with resignation.
Then he made a noise.
A noise that resembled someone about to barf his guts out. The gesture made a few people in the auditorium murmur before Ron spoke up again.
"...Puke." He said with malice. Then the music began.
Now Ron wasn't a singer in any shape, form, or fashion. Plus what he was doing could just barely be classified as singing... But there he was, singing about his 'friend' who apparently made him sick.
"You, don't, know, how, SICK, you, make me...
You make me really sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke!
You, must, just, not, know-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ohh
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you, I puke!"
"I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little poem
But off of the dome would probably be a little more
More suitable, for this type of song - whoa
I got a million reasons off the top of my head that I can think of
Sixteen bars just ain't enough to put some ink ta
So check it I'ma start right here, I'll just be briefer
Bout to rattle off some of the reasons
I knew I shouldn't go and get another tattoo
of you on my arm, but what do I go and do?
I go and get another one, now I got two,
Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooh!
I'm sittin here, with your name on my skin
I can't believe I went and did this stupid shit again
My next best friend, now her name's gotta be Kim,
Shiii-iii-iii-iit!
If you only knew, how much I hated you
For every mother-lovin thing you've ever put us through
Then I wouldn't be standin here cryin' over you
Booo-ooo-ooo-ooo-hoo"
Ron returned to the chorus, with the audience looking at him crossly. They knew exactly who Ron was talking about. What in the heck could Kim have done to set him off like this? Meanwhile Ron continued to "sing."
"You, don't, know, how, SICK, you, make me...
You make me really sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you, I puke!
You, must, just, not, know-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ohh
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you, I puke!"
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little letter
But I thought a song would probably be a little better
Instead of a letter, that you'd probably just shred up - yeah
I stumbled on your picture yesterday and it made me stop and think of
How much of a waste it'd be for me to put some ink ta
A stupid piece'a - paper I'd rather let you see how
Much I freakin' hate you in a freestyle
You're a cheerleading slut I hope you friggin die
I hope you get to hell and Satan sticks a needle in your eye
I hate your freakin' guts you freakin' slut I hope you die,
Die-ie-ie-ie-ie-ie-ie!
But please don't get me wrong - I'm not bitter I'm mad
It's not that I still love you, it's not cause I want you back
It's just that when I think of you it makes me wanna yak,
Aaa-aaa-aaaak
But when else can I do, I haven't got a clue
Now I guess I just move on I have no choice but to
But every time I think of you, now all I wanna do, is
Puuu-uuu-uuuke!"
The music then suddenly cut and Ron dropped the mic and walked behind the curtains which signaled the end of the performance. The crowd fell silent, then began to clap slowly, mostly because of shock. Mr. Barkin, a little perturbed himself went back to the stage and grabbed the microphone once again.
"Ok, people. This is the end of the talent show. We will announce the winner tomorrow," The Dean of Discipline said groggily. "Now report back to your classes. All who do not clear the auditorium in 5 minutes are subject to one weeks detention!" He continued with finality. The students began to file out rather quickly. Nothing like the ever present threat of detention to get the whippersnappers to wake up.
Meanwhile, back behind the curtain, Ron hung his head low. How the heck was he supposed to embarrass Kim if she wasn't there? Rufus, his naked mole rat, which usually resides within Ron's pocket was on Ron's right shoulder, shaking his head.
'Oh well' Ron thought once again. Now that the dreaded school day was nearly over, he could head over to Bueno Nacho to drown his sorrows in Nacos.
So after the school day ended, Ron walked alone to his favorite Mexican restaurant. No, not Taco Bell! I already mentioned it!
Inside the restaurant, Ron ordered his personal favorite and quite possibly his greatest creation, the Naco. Yes, Ron kept this place going so much that it's a wonder why he doesn't get his meals free. He sat down at his booth, and began to eat. No sooner than when he began to eat, a familiar voice called his name.
"Hi, Ron." Kim stated solemnly. Ron took a second to swallow, and turned to his former best friend... Well, in his mind anyway.
"Hey, Kim." Ron replied. Why was Kim so down? Kim didn't hear the song... Did she? The question was quickly answered for him.
"I heard your song." She said to him a bit quietly. Ron began to cross his arms, getting ready for anything she was going to throw at him. From a tantrum to a booth table, Ron was sooo ready.
This was indeed the moment of truth.
"IT WAS GREAT!" Kim continued with excitement. Ron looked at her in shock. She then pulled him by the shoulders and gave him a big hug. Ron, totally unprepared for this, could only sit there in bewilderment. What in the world? She was either supposedly be mad, crying, or beating the daylights out of him. He then had a thought! Well, actually a question.
"You were there!" Ron said, frightened out of his wits. "I didn't see you."
"I was all the way in the back." She replied matter-of-factly, but not losing the excited tone is her voice. "But I heard everything. You totally rocked." She added, hugging him again.
'Damn the astigmatism', Ron thought to himself. But why in the heck was she happy, dang it! Any thought was dashed when Kim pulled Ron by the arm and out of the restaurant.
As they walked silently down the sidewalk, Kim turned to Ron.
"By the way, Ron. Who's this Kim your talking about?" She asked innocently.
All the color must've drained out of Ron's face after she asked that question. Just as he was about to drop the proverbial ton of bricks on her, a familiar beep came from Kim's pocket. She grabbed the Kimmunicator from her pocket.
"What's up, Wade?" She asked.
"It's Killigan." Wade said quickly. "He's attempting to rob a golf store with a knife and fork on Main and 7th. Better get down there quick." He continued.
"Thanks, Wade. You rock." She said, logging off. She then leapt off in the direction of the robbery attempt as fast as lightning.
"Later, Ron." She said from a long distance away.
Ron just stood there in shock. As he attempted to move, he found that he couldn't. He felt a rumbling in his stomach that he couldn't ignore. Three seconds later, Ron turned green with sickness and what did he do?
You guessed it.
Puked.
The End
A/N: Oh boy... There is a lesson to be learned here. Problem is that I forgot what the heck it is. Once again, reviews would do wonders for this writer's ego.
S-Chrome