That Don't Impress Me Much

Disclaimer: I don't own K.P. and Co. I also don't own American Starmaker, its owned by Kim Possible's owners. I also don't own That Don't Impress Me Much by Shania Twain.

DYK:When Dr. Possible (Dad) says, "Josh?", his eyebrows are black.

Basically, this is just a oneshot where the Possible woman take a jab at the most important people in their lives on national TV. Make that American Starmaker. Just a thing I decided to post quickly rather than leave it in storage on my computer for about two weeks. This story supposedly takes place during The New Ron, but Kim and Ron are together like after So The Drama, so it's open to interpretation.

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Mr. Dr Possible, Ron and his fierce new haircut, and Mr. Dr. Possible's dad sat in the Possible living room. They had been mildly curious when their wives (Or in Ron's case, girlfriend.) had told them to watch American Starmaker that night. Now they saw why. Standing on the stage, clad in 'mission garb' was Mrs. Dr. Possible, Kim, and Nana. All three had headset microphones on. What shocked the men even more was that they were going to sing. Mrs. Dr. Possible went first.

"I've known a few guys who thought they were pretty smart. But you've got being right down to an art. You think you're a genius, you drive me up the wall. You're a regular, original, know it all. Oh, you think you're special. Oh, you think you're something else. Okay, so you're a rocket scientist. That don't impress me much! So you got the brains, but have you got the touch? Now don't get me wrong, I think you're alright. But that won't keep me warm in the middle of the night. That don't impress me much." Mrs. Dr. Possible sang. Mr. Dr. Possible's jaw dropped. Ron snickered behind his hand. Mr. Dr. Possible elbowed Ron when Kim moved in front of Mrs. Dr. Possible. She also began singing.

"I never knew a guy who carried a mirror in his pocket, and a comb up his sleeve just in case. And all that extra hold jel in your hair oughta lock it. Cause heaven forbid, it should fall out of place. Oh, you think you're special. Oh, you think you're something else. Okay, so you're Brad Pitt. That don't impress me much! So you got the looks, but have you got the touch? Now don't get me wrong, I think you're alright. But that won't keep me wrong in the middle of the night. That don't impress me much." Kim sang. Now it was Mr. Dr. Possible's turn to snicker. Ron had a look of indignancy on his face. Then Nana walked in front of Kim. Mr. Dr. Possible's dad, who was wearing some overalls with grease stains, leaned forward.

"You're one of those guys who likes to shine his machine. You make me take off my shoes before you let me get in. I can't believe you'd kissed your car goodnight. Now come on baby, tell me. You must be joking right? Oh, you think you're special. Oh, you think you're something else. Okay, so you got a car. That don't impress me much! So you got the moves, but have you got the touch. Now don't get me wrong, I think you're alright. But that won't keep me wrong on a long, cold lonely night. That don't impress me much. Ooh. Ooh. Okay, so what do you think you're Elvis or something? That don't impress me much! Oh no! That don't impress me much! Oh no! Yeah! Oh no! Alright alright! You're Tarzan! Captain Kirk maybe! John Wayne. Whatever." Nana sang. The trio walked off the stage to much applause. The three men just sat on the couch dumbstruck. Finally they got the courage up to speak to each other after being nationally humiliated on TV. The three vaguely wondered whether their partners were leaving them, but then pushed it from their minds.

"That was wrong on so many levels," the three men said at the same time. Unbeknownst to them, Mrs. Dr. Possible, Kim, and Nana watched them from the kitchen. The three women chortled to each other.

"That was a great idea Mom," Kim said as they walked upstairs, sneaking past the men. Everyone thought the show was live, but it wasn't. They had actually performed earlier that week so they could see the looks on their partners faces. They thought it was hilarious.

End.