A/N: Here's a little DVD extra for you. It's sort of a deleted scene. Not exactly, it actually grew from about two lines that were deleted from Chapter I before posting. A grande-sized Naco goes to the first reviewer who guesses one or both of the original lines. (Hint: they're no longer consecutive.) Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As always, thanks to all the reviewers of Chapter II, and especially to my beta reader, the estimable MrDrP. Without him this bonus chapter would not even exist. (But if you don't like it, all blame is mine.)

Disclaimer: Disney owns Kim Possible, Ron and Mr. Barkin. I have no idea who owns John Wayne.

Kim Possible
in

The Latin Lovers

(An Essential Ronness Story)

by
campy

Bonus scene:
A Little Motivation

"... you're going to want to pass this exam too. Otherwise you'll be enjoying hot summer school with Mr. Barkin while I'm hanging out at Lake Middleton. In my new swimsuit. My two-piece swimsuit."

"T– t– two? P– piece? … Simswoot? …" Ron's gaze traveled lasciviously up and down Kim's Battle Suit-clad figure. In his mind's eye the form-fitting suit disappeared, leaving only tanned, glistening skin and a few tiny bits of cloth.

I am dating the hottest girl on the planet, he decided.

His imagination conjured up a deserted tropical beach, with pristine white sand and palm trees swaying in a warm breeze. Kim handed him a brightly colored, ice-cold drink garnished with fruit and decorated with a little paper umbrella. Huh? She didn't have that a second ago. Looks refreshing, though. I hope KP didn't make it … He sipped it and thought about how great life was.

"I was hoping you'd be around to help me put suntan lotion on," she cooed coquettishly, "but I suppose I could ask someone else …"

"Hoping? I'm right here, KP. I'd be glad to do it for you. Why would you ask someone else?"

"Because you failed Latin, Stoppable." Mr. Barkin shouted in his ear. "You're mine for the next eight weeks."

Suddenly Ron found himself sitting at a desk in Middleton High's infamous Room 12, a two-foot stack of textbooks in front of him. Mr. Barkin stood at the front of the room, dressed in his usual brown sport jacket and khaki pants. As he filled the chalkboard with complex chemical formulae and abstruse mathematical equations full of sideways-8 thingies, he recited long passages from Lo, the Plough Shall Till the Soil of Redemption in a dull monotone. Wait a minute, what's going on here? Ron wondered. I passed English, chem and math! And we never did time-space stuff like that in class; that's Ph.D.-level stuff. And I never even heard the word 'abstruse' before!

He glanced out the window; there was Kim, still on the beach. She waved at him wistfully. As Ron continued to watch, the whole scene seemed to recede into the distance.

"KP!" he shouted. He leapt to his feet and charged out of the room, down the hall and out the door. He ran full-speed into Mr. Barkin, who had somehow changed into a set of neatly pressed camouflage BDUs, topped by a drill instructor hat.

"Drop and give me fifty, Recruit!" he roared. Ron fell face-first into the mud as a torrential rain began to drench him. Oddly, Mr. Barkin remained clean and dry. Ron started to do his pushups.

He looked to his left. Kim! She was still on the beach, but she was no longer alone. A crowd of tall, tanned jocks; surfer dudes; and pretty boys had gathered around her, ogling her, openly drooling.

Somehow a net appeared and a beach volleyball game broke out. Every time Kim touched the ball, one of the jocks would high-five her or pat her fanny or, after a particularly big point, twirl her around in an exultant embrace. Kim looked over at Ron every time this happened, a pained expression on her face. Why, Ron? She seemed to ask. Why did you leave me to this fate?

Ron grew furious. Those jerks! They can't do that to my KP! Ignoring his hectoring DI, he sprang to his feet and started to run to her rescue.

Out of nowhere thousands of old automobile tires covered the ground. He stumbled, fell. "Lift those legs, Stoppable!" Steve Barkin, now dressed in T-shirt and shorts with a 'Coach' cap, roared. Ron, himself now wearing a football helmet and pads, struggled to his feet and continued to try to reach his girlfriend. Footballs pelted him from all directions.

The volleyball game ended, and Kim lay face down on a lounge. The jocks and surfers lined up and took turns rubbing sun lotion on her gorgeous, sexy body. Come on! Ron thought, Enough is enough! How much lotion can one little bottle hold?

At last he reached the beach. "Yesss!" he yelled triumphantly. "I'm coming for you, KP!"

But wait — something was wrong. Kim was still on the idyllic tropical beach, but Ron's beach was all in black-and-white. Bullets whistled all around him, and offshore a large fleet of naval vessels pounded the interior of the island with their massive guns. Aw, man, not the World War II Movie Channel! I so do not have time for this. He flopped on his belly and crawled toward Kim, but couldn't seem to close the distance. He crawled faster.

He stopped short when he collided with a pair of combat-booted feet. They belonged to Mr. Barkin, or possibly John Wayne in Sands of Iwo Jima — Ron had sand in his eyes and couldn't see too well at this point. "Just think, Stoppable," Barkin (it was Barkin) said sadly. "If you'd passed your final you'd be there with her. She doesn't want those pretty boys, she wants you. But no, you had to be a slacker and ruin her whole summer. Are you happy now?"

It doesn't have to be like this, Ron thought. None of this is real. I'm still on the plane; there's still time to pass the final.

He blinked four or five times, then shook his head as if reeling from a Kim Possible roundhouse. He saw Kim, still in her Battle Suit, and heard the whine of the jet's engines. No beach, no war, no footballs, no time-space equations. Yes! I knew it was all in my head! Okay, Ronman, you can do this. You learned to speak cockroach in a day, learning enough Latin to pass the final should be cake. Reaching for his backpack he rummaged inside, quickly locating his own textbook and study guide, as well as his Latin-English dictionary. "All right then, let's get studying."

the end