Disclaimer: I don't own Kim or Ron. Any of my characters (ex: General Tormento, Mrs. Peters) are up for grabs, though, if you have an urge to use 'em.
Chapter Quote: Ahhh...I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again... - my muse, blame it on him
…
Ron separated the blinds with his fingers and peered out the window, his eyes shifting up and down Oak Street, searching. "You're being paranoid, Ron." Kim leaned on the kitchen doorframe still dressed in her pajamas, sipping at her coffee.
Eyes searched the street warily. "One, no I'm not, and two, my hunches are, like, 50/50, so I'm due to be right again soon. Aha! There he is!" Three houses down across the street a door opened. The postman stepped out and tipped his hat before heading down the driveway. Ron glared at the blue suit as it crossed the street and headed for the Stoppable mailbox, hand shuffling through tan bag. "Why would he go from Mrs. Peters' house to ours?" The postman paused, hand in mailbag, and looked up from the box. Ron jumped back from the window.
Kim rolled her eyes. "Because Mrs. Peters is 1835, 1836 is Dave, who works at the post office and gets his mail there, 1837 is the Smiths, who are on vacation in the Bahamas-"
"Lucky richies." Ron crossed his arms, frowning.
"And 1838 and 1839 are both for sale, so the next house he comes to is 1840, which is ours." Kim sat down on the couch and turned the TV on to morning news.
"Then why does he always look around?"
"Because he can feel you watching him, the man is a retired navy seals."
Ron darted back to the window and separated the blinds. "Retired?" The postman was moving on to Bob's. "He can't be more than 50."
The reporters droned on about some new ordinance. "He's 63 and military can retire after 20 years."
Ron pouted. "Should've done that." He sighed and headed for the couch. "Still say Mrs. Peters is paying him to spy on us."
Kim set down her half empty mug of coffee, still not used to the flavor, and leaned back into Ron's chest. "I doubt it."
Ron looked down at his wife, a look of innocent confusion on his face. "What do you mean?"
Kim tilted her head and kissed his chin. "I mean that… he's been the postman since they built this area fifteen years ago."
Ron pulled back a bit and kissed the side of her mouth, losing interest in the conversation fast. "And…?"
"And…" Kim shifted her shoulders as his hand slipped into her hair and his lips found her jaw line. "…so has Mrs. Peters."
"But he, uh… he goes back to her house after his rounds. To talk about us."
Kim kissed her husband on the lips before pulling back to meet his eyes. "Ron… he doesn't go back to talk."
For fifteen seconds the only sound was the television. Ron's face shifted from confused to thoughtful to shocked before settling on disgusted. "What? Ew! …Nut uh. Ewww!" He shuddered. "She's so… old and, how do you know, anyway?"
Kim shrugged innocently. "Neighborhood gossip."
Ron stood up, frowning. "Well, that worked better than any cold shower. I'm gonna… unpack some boxes, or something." He shuddered again. "Ew!"
…
Digisim: What is up with that creepy old lady? Heh, just got creepier, eh?
Mist: I'm a big fan of Teddy, he's probably my favorite president, so I quote him all the time.
Rikagirls: Aw, thanks! I hope I don't disappoint.