Tales of The Awkward: More! Surveillance!
'OK, Ron...you can lower the menu from your face. It's been three minutes. It doesn't take you that long to figure out what you want. T-Tara's probably not staring a hole through you while you're reading the menu by now.'
With his eyes as shifty as a car salesman's, Ron Stoppable reluctantly lowered the menu down to the table slowly, only to see the blonde-haired girl staring... and winking right back at him. The sidekick had quickly become frazzled... well, more so than usual. He wasn't exactly sure... but Tara must have really liked him, and that was totally freaking him out.
He tried to take a look back at her when the waiter of all people showed up to bail the gawky teen out. Thank goodness for him... after all, no teenage boy on the face of Planet Earth would ever want to have an attractive girl stare at him.
"Welcome to Spicier's," the waiter muttered, his voice as a dull as a ride on the Cyclone. "May I take your order?"
After sneaking a quick glance at the menu, Tara spoke up first.
"I'd like the Chicken Alfredo, the Garden Salad with the Thousand Island dressing, and the unlimited shrimp bowl, a Coke, and the Chicken Fingers."
"Very good, ma'am," the waiter replied, "And the gentlemen?"
The blond went pale... then glanced at the menu... then, probably went even more pale. Tara had just said a mouthful… quite literally. "One moment, please," he said calmly as he checked his pockets. What he saw in his wallet was probably more painful than any punch to the gut. He was going to have so much fun being so completely broke and starving to death for the next week. He wondered if he could get an advance on his allowance.
"OK... I'll have whatever that's left on the other tables."
Tara giggled good-naturedly. "You're not serious, are you?" She reached in her purse and pulled out the all-powerful, all-mighty, all-encompassing plastic. "I've got this."
(She was going to pick up the entire check? Ron had found himself a winner. Now, the only question remains was where they were going to register to be married.
Hey, look... the entire check? You don't dump someone with that kind of scratch!)
"Uh... OK. But doesn't etiquette say...?"
"Yes it does... but you're so cute..." Tara answered, reaching over the table to take hold of his cheek.
"Yes... I am, aren't I?" He asked uneasily. The waiter shook his head. Before he turned to give the order to those poor souls in the kitchen, Ron tugged at his apron.
"Say... this whole, 'Guy not picking up the check' thing... this doesn't make me appear as less of a man, does it?" He whispered.
The waiter thought for a moment. "I'm going to be honest with you. You're a teenager, and you'll learn things when you get older. But, yes, it does make you less of a man. It makes you so much less, in fact, that I'm not sure who's wearing the dress at this table."
Ouch.
Well, it was nice to hear the painful truth every so often... right?
The waiter strolled on to the kitchen, leaving Ron and Tara alone once again. Fearing that his poor, budding manhood was beaten over the head with a larger-than-life brick, Ron went silent once again. How could all of his confidence be sucked out by a lowly bus boy?
One of life's great mysteries, no doubt.
"Soooo..." The blonde girl began, her eyes rolling toward him. "Ron, what do you usually do on Friday nights?"
"Oh... um, nothing much," he replied bashfully. "Well.. usually on Friday nights I'm in the crib... doing homework."
Critical Error 449: BOLD-FACED Lie
Uh-Huh... Like she, or anyone else on the face of the planet was going to believe that.
Treatment: Try again, George Washington.
The goofy sidekick decided to change his answer when his date gave him a sideways glance, as if to say. "Boy, stop lyiiiin..."
He chuckled meekly. "Well, actually on Friday nights I hang with... uh..."
Ron wasn't exactly sure if it was safe to divulge this kind of information. Luckily, though...
"Kim, right?" A grinning Tara asked..
Oy Vey! Was it that obvious?
"Yeah..." he trailed. "But you know... w-we don't do too much of anything. Just hanging because, we're tight. You know?"
Why did it feel like Ron was on the witness stand of the O.J. trial with the right to plead the Fifth waived? His eyes darted from right to left, hoping that his explanation was to Tara's liking.
"Yeah, I know," Tara said, trying to calm him down. "So, what kind of stuff do you do?"
Another question?! Was this the Spanish Inquisition, or what? Furthermore, why was it so warm in this darn restaurant and, why the heck were his palms starting to sweat? Before he could gripe to himself even more...
"Oh, nothing much… we have pillow fights, we do each other's hair... engage in girl talk..."
Yes! She was laughing! His joke actually worked! He had to be the greatest of all time for breaking the ice like that. He felt like throwing shadow punches in a gymnasium, Cassius Clay-style.
Tempering her laugh into a girlish giggle, Tara spoke again.
"Ah, Ron... I was just teasing. I mean, it's not like Kim likes you... which, you know... she does, by the way."
Time stopped. Glasses shattered. Windows broke. People stopped talking. The blond boy's hair stood up on end and his face went as pale as bad milk. He must've had ear wax buildup of the highest magnitude because he could've sworn that Tara, his freaking date, had just told him that Kim liked him.
Believe it. Believe it like Obama & Clinton taking a hatchet to each other's presidential intentions... already.
"Nooo way," Ron croaked in disbelief.
"No, it's true," she continued to tease. "You just haven't seen the way she looks at you... but I see it."
This was getting hard to deal with. Why was Tara doing this to him? Why did she have to be the one to throw Sunoco ULTRA 94 Octane gasoline on the fires that was himself and Kim? Didn't Tara like him? What was the deal with all this?
"You probably think that she wouldn't feel that way about you, but we know better now, don't we?"
Yes... Ron was hearing some particularly brutal news, but great Scott, he had to veer this conversation in a different direction. The more Kim was being brought up, the more he would end up thinking about her during the course of the night... not good. A diversion... he needed some sort of diversion.
"Well... I would think she would have to like me," Ron said. "We're inseparable. I mean, you can't be the best of friends without liking one another, right?"
"I think you know what I'm talking about, Ron," Tara replied, narrowing her eyes at him.
"Yeah, I might... but I'm a lot more interested in how you feel about me." He flashed her a flirty smile while taking her soft hand in the process. The cheerleader quickly flushed at his forwardness.
"Gosh, Ron... I..." Her radiating face was all that Ron needed to see. His grin grew wider at his smooth success.
Oh, yeah... Smooth Ron was back in business, baby...
"You know, Kim. It's bad enough that we're... 'keeping surveillance' over Ron," Monique began, using air quotes for keeping surveillance, when she, Kim, and twenty-thousand members of the Liberal media knew that it was spying... and stalking... and espionage, and whatever else you can call what she was doing.
"But, do you really have to use that thing while we're inside?" She asked, referring to the night-vision binoculars that Kim was using.
"Pipe down, Monique. I'm trying to read what they're saying."
"You can read lips?"
"Of course I can," the redhead whispered confidently. "I can do anything..."
Except, of course...
"Really? Then what are they saying right now?"
"Um..." Kim stalled momentarily. "Ok, Tara is talking about how easy she is, and Ron is talking about..."
"I'm sorry I asked," Monique said, rolling her eyes. She hoped for her sake that Tara & Ron weren't going to be around here very long, because this night had a potential to be a very frustrating and violent one. Speaking of violence...
"Why is he taking her hand?" Kim asked, her countenance darkening by the second.
"They are on a date, you know," Monique said sardonically, relaxing in her seat. Kim spun around to glare daggers of doom at her, but it didn't do much for the more unwilling of the duo. She had been threatened, made a scapegoat and the misguided target of the redhead's vitriol all evening, so why the heck should that stop now? She figured if she could make Kim as miserable as she was on this exigent evening, then some part of the mission was accomplished.
Then again, was Kim already miserable and just tugging her into this?
Yep, and 2 + 2 equaled 4 as well.
She wondered what could possibly make this evening worse.
Oh, look... Bonnie Rockwaller and Brick Flagg were here too. Fancy, that... the evening had just got worse. It would be in her best interest to give Kim the heads-up, wouldn't it?
"Uh, Kim?"
No answer. And just her luck, the brunette cheerleader was coming her way.
"Uh... Kiiiiim," she urged, tapping at the shoulder of the unaware girl. Worse yet, Kim was ignoring her. Well, there was one thing left to do to make her notice.
"Owww!" Kim winced. There were a lot of questions that the redhead wanted to have answered by the end of night, but the reason why Monique pinched her rear... well, in that case, she'd be much better off not knowing.
"What was that for?" She asked. The redhead's head was turned in the direction of the answer.
Red Alert! Red Alert! Quite literally, too. She quickly whirled back and got low in the pleather seats of their booth.
"What's she doing here?"
"I was going to ask you the same question," Monique remarked with a knowing smirk.
"Grr," a Herculean effort was made to restrain herself from strangling her sassy friend at that second. "She can't see us here."
"Correction: She can't see you here."
"You're right..." the redhead muttered.
Kim quickly scurried underneath the table in hopes that the passing Bonnie would breeze by without noticing her. The teen adventurer almost got her wish, unfortunately as the tanned girl was almost on her way, she looked to her left.
"Monique is having dinner alone? Big surprise there," Bonnie snidely remarked as she walked by.
"Schoolyard insults? The smell of cheap perfume? Nice to see you too, Bonnie," Monique replied evenly. Naturally, the potshot made the brunette turn around. Underneath the table, Kim shook her head in disbelief. Where was Monique's maturity?
Then again, where the heck was hers? Under a table, trying not be seen?
"Maybe I'll start acknowledging you as somebody once you figure out that boys aren't..." the brunette stopped. Something very interesting had caught her eye. "Speaking of boys..." she trailed off as she quickly made her way across the room.
"Where do you you're..." Monique paused. She knew where the troublesome girl was headed. "Uh-oh..."
"Uh-oh... what uh-oh?"
As the blonde-haired cheerleader watched her date hungrily scarf the contents of his plate, she couldn't help to be a bit astonished by the boy's transition. Because, like... wow... in about three seconds time, Ron had turned about as smooth as soft corinthian leather.
Thanks, Ricardo.
Suddenly, Tara had really liked the goofy, trip-over-ever-other-sentence, flush-at-every-juncture Ron Stoppable that she saw earlier. Boys weren't supposed to gain confidence during dates! They were supposed to trip over their shoelaces and spill soft drinks on themselves. It looked like there were more layers to Ron than she had previously thought. Now, why she was getting jittery was anyone's guess.
"I-I'm going to the ladies' room," she said, quickly getting up.
"Hurry back," the mascot replied.
He waited for his date to disappear across the room then relaxed in his chair. Turning on the charm proved to not be a task that was easy. He wondered how the smooth and suave guys could do these things without completely burning themselves out. How did guys like Josh do it? How did guys like Vince do it? How did guys like George Clooney do it?
Oh... right, Clooney does it by being a smarmy, sanctimonious, self-serving, son-of-a...
"Hello there."
Deep in his ladies-man related musings, Ron didn't notice the voice who was acknowledging him. Well, not for another six seconds. He turned his head in just about the slowest of slow motion
His eyes went as wide as Curt Schilling's gut. "Whaa...? B-B?"
Now, what would make someone smooth as Ron react to Ms. Bonnie Rockwaller in the fashion that he did?
Wouldn't know... couldn't it be the girl herself. He had seen what she looked like for years, and she was very pretty, even if she was a prissy, stuck-up, self-centered...
Could it be that she still wasn't acknowledging as 'loser?' Couldn't have been that, she's warmed up to him for some reason.
Maybe it was that scant red dress she was wearing.
Bingo.
It was the same scant red dress that left very little a little too much to his imagination. The scant red dress that she was wearing that once again made him forget about the date he was on with that blonde-haired girl... what in the heck was her name again? It had to be Sarah, right?
Without the shadow of a doubt, it was that scant red dress that beautifully graced the brunette's bombshell body that made him want to hop on the table and howl like a wolf... and yell things that he really shouldn't... and bash his own head in with a mallet just to make sure that girl that stood before him wasn't a mirage.
Right to Censor's Three Cardinal Rules by Dr. Vainglorious
No foul language: "But, damn! Shorty was a total dime-piece, plus ninety-nine, yo!"
No excessive violence: "Awww, ma... I'd bash my brains in for that!"
No scantily clad women... well, that ship sailed... and aren't we glad it did?
The brunette's red-painted lips curled upward. She knew that she looked smoking hot tonight, but the ex-loser's face was absolutely priceless... and, kind of cute, too. She continued to smirk as the boy continued to stare at her. He was just about hypnotized and she didn't have a problem with it. To a finer point, she had almost liked his stupified glances.
After twenty more seconds of comprehending that what he saw wasn't a mirage. Ron finally regained his senses.
"Hi... Bonnie," he struggled to gather a weak grin. "We've gotta stop meeting like this," he quipped.
"So you're not happy to see me?" The cheerleader pouted.
Why did girls have to make things so hard?
"What? No. No! Not what I meant..." Ron bumbled. "I... sm, uh, happy to see you... and, uh... y-you..." he stopped to look over the girl once again. "You look great"
"Really?" Her voice feigned surprise, not that Ron would know the difference in any case. "You think so?" She asked, striking an impromptu pose.
Ron nodded his head Scooby-Doo style. All he needed to say was "Reah, rou rook ran-tastic!" Which, thank goodness, he didn't.
"Why, Ron, you are just too sweet," the brunette cheerleader gushed, patting the boy's nicely done hair.
(Too sweet? Where is the nWo when you need 'em?)
"Monique? What's going on over there? Where's Bonnie?"
Call it a sixth sense, but Monique knew where Bonnie was, and what she was trying to do. Why she was trying to do what she was doing was not a question for her. She ruminated and hesitated on whether or not to tell Kim, for the sake of rising blood pressure numbers for both of them. The girl figured that it would be better to tell her red-haired friend rather than her to see it herself... that is, until she saw the brunette getting a little... cozy with Ron.
"Uh-Oh..." She said again.
"Uh-oh, what? Where is she? That's it, I'm going over there... oomph!"
Kim was quickly shut down with a kick to her side. Monique was usually never one to administer violence to another person, but this was necessary in not breaking her best friend's cover.
Great... now she was getting wrapped up in this too.
Yep, that's the only reason why she would kick someone who dragged her into this exercise-in-jealousy and stalk ability.
Stalk ability?
The red-haired girl slowly slithered back into her seat. If looks could kill... there would probably be a headstone where the black-haired girl's body used to be.
"What... was that... for?" Kim asked.
Reluctantly, Monique handed the binoculars back to the redhead. The gasp that the Club Banana employee heard was probably not going to be the extent of her friend's outrage. The redness that was radiating the green-eyed girl's face told a fairly good story, however.
"Bonnie..." her left eye twitched. The twitch being voluntary or involuntary was anyone's guess. "...and Ron?!"
There were just another one of those moments where Monique just wanted (or maybe needed) a place to hide. Being underneath a table wasn't actually a bad idea right now.
"Now, easy Kim, calm down,"
Calm? Calm was beyond Kim at this point. Calm was that idyllic point in time when they were happily stalking Ron and Tara. Now that Bonnie crept her way into the picture, this whole thing had turned into a completely different animal...
...and so was Kim at this point.
"So... Tara, huh? Looks like someone's moving his way up," Bonnie said playfully.
"Moving my way up? I don't get it," the freckle-faced boy said, shrugging his shoulders. The tanned cheerleader giggled at his naivete.
"So you mean you went out with Tara tonight because you like her?"
"Uh... Yeah. Why else would I?"
Ron was seriously confused by the questioning of Bonnie. Then again, he was also transfixed by both the neckline and hemline of the girl's dress. The blond hoped that she didn't catch him looking... too much.
"I mean, you go out with Brick because you like him, right?" Ron asked.
"Hmph, that's none of your business," Bonnie snapped.
"Oh..."
Hey, wait a minute...
"Wait, you asked why I went out with Tara. I gave you an answer... so, how come you say it's none of my business when I ask you the same question?"
"A lady isn't supposed to reveal her affairs," she said, turning her nose up at him.
That's right... a lady isn't supposed to reveal her affairs. They didn't say anything about prissy, stuck-up, self-centered, gold-digging, snooty, conniving ho-bags, though.
Why the heck was Bonnie doing this to him? She would be sugary-sweet to him in one moment, and then prickly-sour to him in the next. He sighed in frustration. As if Kim's actions in the last week didn't confuse him to no end, here comes Bonnie.
Where the heck was Sarah? No wait... Tara! That's what her name was.
"Ron? Bonnie?"
When one was on a date with a female, it was not customary to be sitting next to another girl that you happen to be on a date with. It would've paid for Ron to have knowledge of this... however, there was Tara standing there, confused as a...
(OK, no more dumb blonde jokes.)
"Ah... Hey there, Tara," Ron squeaked. "We were just... uh, talking about the upcoming school year..."
Critical Error 449... Stop Lying, Ron.
"Actually, Tara, we were talking about you," Bonnie said, thumbing over to the boy. "He was just talking about how a loser like him could manage to get a date with you."
"Hey!" Ron exclaimed at being dissed. Bonnie narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah... ain't I lucky?" He added with his trademark "Goofiest of Goofy™" grins.
Tara grinned right back. "Is that so?"
The blond boy quickly nodded affirmatively. He couldn't believe it. Did Bonnie just bail him out? And if so, why was she bailing him out?
"Why, that's just so sweet," the blonde cheerleqader beamed.
.
"Yeah, Yeah, Tar... real sweet," Bonnie replied, clearly not impressed. "Well, I have to get back to my Bricky-poo. He probably thinks that I disappeared."
Both Tara and Bonnie chuckled, which left Ron to believe that it was some sort of inside joke between the two cheerleaders.
"But, seriously, though... good night, Tara," the brunette said to her blonde colleague. "And... good luck, Ron."
He thought that this three-way awkward get-together was finally over and done with. He did, until, he felt a pair of lips smack against his cheek. And... Great Grains! Tara was on the other side of the table! The horror that gripped his freckled face would tell you that he had just been kissed by some sort of psychotic, evil demon-child.
But, nah... it was just Bonnie.
Ron gripped his cheek, as if he was just shot there... and maybe he was. "W-Why'd she do that?" He queried to anyone who could give him an answer. Heck, Bonnie could have given him an answer if she didn't disappear from the restaurant.
While she was seriously put off by the brunette's brazenness, Tara was very much amused by the horror on his face. He must not have liked it as much as she didn't like seeing it.
"Ronnn," she laughed. "She was just trying to be nice... I think."
Trying to be nice? Trying to be nice?! That was like saying the Yankees were only trying to be nice when they gave one game to the Mets in the Subway Series. Ron would have been good with a friendly handshake. Of course, on another side of the restaurant, one person would have been happy if nothing at all happened.
"I'll kill her... I will kill her," Kim growled, her nails digging into the poor and defenseless table.
"Come on, Kim," Monique pleaded, holding her in place. "Homicide isn't going to solve anything."
Well, homicide wasn't going to solve anything, unless her name was Orenthal.
End of Part Two.
