Welcome to the fifth story of my Essential Ronness series. Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? "Why the delay, campy?" you may be asking. (Or not.) You know those authors who are always saying they have tons of story ideas rattling around in their heads, but just can't find the time to write them down? I'm the flip side of that. Time I got plenty of; ideas, not so much.
I'd like to thank all the reviewers of my previous story, Talking Turkey: captainkodak1, Zaratan, Ultimate Naco Topping, Louis Mielke, mattb3671, Commander Argus, MrDrP, surforst, conan98002, JPMod, akemi, Cartoonatic, SHADOW DRAGON TWISTER, Cool., Pwn Master Paladin, Taechunsa, Jezrianna2.0, Firestar9mm, and gianluca de duonni.
As always, special thanks to MrDrP for taking the time to beta- and proofread.
Disclaimer: Disney owns Kim Possible, I don't. So don't send me any money, no matter how much you love this story.
The Mad Dog Picnic
(An Essential Ronness Story)
It was as predictable as the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano. Every year, the flyers appeared on the first of July, and within days could be found in shop windows and on community bulletin boards all over town:
Middleton Mad Dogs
Athletic Boosters Club
Saturday, July 22
Memorial Picnic Grounds
11:00 am — ?
The good people of Middleton, Colorado were exceptionally proud of their home town. Given the slightest opportunity, they would brag about the futuristic hypersonic aircraft being developed at the renowned Space Center and the superb patient care offered at the equally renowned Medical Center. They boasted about the cutting-edge research conducted by the faculty and students of the Middleton Institute of Technology, and extolled the virtues of the quality foodstuffs produced by the Middleton Pickle Works. And they positively reveled in the plaudits heaped on their most celebrated citizen, the world-famous teen hero Kim Possible.
Middletonians were also fiercely proud and supportive of their Middleton High student athletes.
Every year, the Mad Dog Picnic was the social event of the midsummer. Middleton High athletes past and present would come, many with family members who would grow up to become the Mad Dogs of the future.
There was fun aplenty for all ages throughout the day and on into the evening. An assortment of musical combos would take the stage and play dance music. Tables would be heaped with food, most of it quite tasty. (They always held the picnic during the two weeks Cafeteria Lady spent visiting her sister in Las Vegas.) There were softball and volleyball games, basketball, Frisbee, horseshoes and bocce, and many activities for the children. And after the games, there would be a short program honoring some of the athletes and boosters, and finally a fireworks display.
By tradition, the Middleton High Cheerleaders always led off the awards program with a rousing dance number …
Rockwaller home, Wednesday
Bonnie Rockwaller was feeling very good about herself.
It was warm and muggy that evening, and Bonnie was glistening. Profusely. She'd just completed a workout on the ballet barre located in her bedroom, her first good ballet workout since returning home from a two-week visit to her dad's house. I hate spending so much time away from my barre, she thought as she sipped on a bottle of water. I really wish I could find a place to work out when I visit Dad. Oh well, at least the gruesome twosome didn't come with this year; that's always a plus. She checked herself out in the mirror as she toweled off, feeling very pleased with what she was seeing. She smiled a satisfied smile. "Oh yeah, we've still got it," she said to her reflection. All the physical attributes that kept her at the top of Middleton High School's food chain were in place.
Face: smooth and blemish-free. Maybe she wasn't the absolute prettiest girl in school—her squadmates Hope and Marcella had that exotic dark beauty thing going; and outside of the cheer squad the lovely Penny Farthing, she of the beautilicious eyes, was known to turn a head or ten as she glided through the halls—but Bonnie knew how to put on makeup and she knew how to put on attitude, so her classic girl-next-door features were just fine. Next, Hair: again, no problems. While she might sometimes envy her friend Tara for her waist-length platinum blonde curls, and once in a while even (blech!) Kim Possible for that eye-catching red mane of hers, Bonnie's own brunette tresses were subtly highlighted, and styled in an easy-care, 'I just rolled out of bed, and don't you wish you'd been there with me, big guy' cut that suited her to a 'T'.
Then there was her figure. Her smile grew wider. In that department she was truly blessed. Bonnie's body was a wonder of nature; the envy of every girl and the lust object of every boy. She was strong and toned from years of cheerleading and ballet, but still soft and 100 percent feminine, with long, tanned legs and lush curves. Crystal says the guys at Lake Middleton have all been drooling over K in her tiny bikinis ever since school let out. Well, boys, just you wait 'til the Queen B shows up. You'll realize that less is just … less. She turned this way and that, checking herself out from all angles. Yes, Bonnie had plenty of reasons to feel good about herself.
She tossed her empty bottle in the wastebasket, blew a kiss to the beauty in the mirror, and headed downstairs to the kitchen for another drink.
Good-bye, good mood. She suddenly found herself face-to-faces with her older sisters, the (fraternal) twin banes of her existence, Connie and Lonnie.
"Oh look, Bonnie's still doing her ballet," Connie said disdainfully.
"I'll bet she wants to dance in the school talent show again next year," Lonnie added.
"Oh, goody. She can lose to some more nerds," Connie continued, "and bring even more shame to the family name."
"Maybe that skinny little girl with the bagpipes will beat her next year," Lonnie suggested as the pair turned and left the kitchen.
"Lonnie, that was a boy," Connie informed her twin.
"A boy? But he was wearing a skirt," Lonnie said, confused.
"No, Sis, that was a kilt, like Mal Gibbon wore in that movie we saw a few years ago, remember?"
Lonnie's reply was too muffled to understand, not that Bonnie cared. She slumped down dejectedly into a chair. Her sisters had once again brought her low, and tomorrow promised to be another downer of a day, with the rehearsal for the cheer squad's picnic performance on tap. With Miss Perfect Kim Possible running the show, of course.
Bonnie Rockwaller was feeling very bad about herself.
Middleton High School Gym, Thursday morning
"So it's just the five of us?" Tara asked, looking at Kim, Jessica, Liz and Bonnie.
"That's right, Tara," Kim explained. "Hope and Crystal have summer jobs and have to work during the day Saturday, they won't be able to come to the picnic 'til very late, and Marcella is on vacation with the fam. They're in California, visiting Eisnerland."
"Eeuwww," Liz said with a shudder. "You couldn't pay me to go to that place. I hear it's, like, the worst theme park in the history of ever."
"Poor Marcella," Jessica said solemnly. The rest of the cheerleaders nodded and murmured their agreement. The quintet observed a moment of silence for their suffering comrade.
"Well, anyway, five of us is a good number for the size of the stage at the picnic grounds," Kim began, rallying her troops.
"Six! Can't forget the mascot!" Ron Stoppable interjected, entering the gym and coming up behind his girlfriend, Kim. He wrapped his hands around her waist and nuzzled her auburn hair, prompting smiles and sighs from Tara, Liz and Jessica.
"Maybe if he'd go away we could try," Bonnie muttered, a grimace on her face.
"What is your ish, Bonnie?" Kim said with a snarl. "You know the fans really love Ron's 'Mad Dog' act."
"It's stupid and lame," the brunette began, "and I thi–"
beep beep be-beep
The Kimmunicator sounded its call to action. Kim held up a hand to cut off Bonnie's reply as she retrieved the device from her pocket.
"Wait one, Bonnie. What's the sitch, Wade?"
"Kim, Ron, we just got a hit on the site. Chester Yapsby is at it again. He's breeding a swarm of giant mosquitoes in the Florida Everglades and threatening to unleash them on Miami. I can have a ride for you in ten minutes."
"We're on it, Wade." Kim signed off.
"Okay, ladies, Ron and I have to go. Can we do this tomorrow instead?"
"No, Kim, today is the only day we can get together before Saturday." Liz whined. "If we don't work out our dance today, we won't be able to perform at the picnic."
Bonnie saw her chance. With Kim gone, she could take her rightful place as leader—at least for a day. "Why don't I take charge here while you and the loser go off to swat flies, K?" she said. "I do have the most dance experience of any of us."
Kim looked at the other three girls; no one else seemed to want to step up.
"All right, Bonnie. You choreograph something and the four of you can rehearse it today. We'll all meet at the lake at, say, ten Saturday; that'll leave an hour for Ron and me to learn our parts and for all of us to run through it a couple of times on stage before the picnic starts. There will be parts for us, right, Bonnie?"
"Don't worry, K," Bonnie said with a smirk. "Somebody has to be at the bottom of the pyramid."
A small airfield in central Florida, later that day
"Thanks for letting us wait in your office, Mr. Carruthers. Wade says our ride home will be here in twenty minutes."
"You kidding me?" the airport boss said with a grin. "Having the Kim Possible here at my little old airport is just about the most exciting thing that's happened in these parts for a dog's age."
"Don't forget Ron and Rufus," Kim said. "We're a team."
"Sure, Don and Lucas too," the older man said. "You kids relax and stay outta the heat, and help yourselves to some soda pops from the cooler over there if ya get thirsty. I'll be in that hanger across the runway if ya need me." He looked back at the two young people as he headed out the door. "Don't y'all do anything I wouldn't do!" he said with a wink.
Ron looked around the tiny FBO office; the battered wooden desk with its antique rotary-dial telephone, the dun-colored linoleum floor, the panelboard walls hung with numerous photographs of aircraft from many eras, from early biplanes through World War II and beyond. Intrepid young aviators clad in leather jackets and pleated khaki trousers stood grinning next to their machines in some of them. (Had Kim and Ron examined the photos closely, they might have noticed that one of the aviators was a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to Dr. James T. Possible.) High on the wall, an ancient air conditioner rattled and hummed as it struggled against the oppressive Florida heat and humidity.
"That was one of our easier missions, KP," he observed, settling back on the patched and worn vinyl sofa.
"Yeah, it's not like Chester's much of a fighter," Kim said, joining him. "Once we stopped his mosquito larvae he had nuthin'. And you were so clever to figure out that pouring Diablo sauce over the swamp would destroy the larvae without hurting the ecosystem. Eight thousand packets of Diablo sauce. But I still want to know how you even knew that old Bueno Nacho warehouse was nearby."
"'Sha, KP, I was an assistant manager for a while, remember?"
"Of course I remember that, Ron; I was there. Nobody who had to live by your bathroom break chart will ever forget it. But what does that have to do with—"
"It's right there in the Bueno Nacho Standard Operating Procedures, Kimila. Section Four, Paragraph nine, Subparagraph G is quite clear. Quote: 'All Restaurant Managers and Assistant Managers will commit to memory the street addresses and telephone numbers, both voice and facsimile, of the six (6) Regional Supply Facilities geographically nearest to the location of their Restaurant.' Close quote."
"And you have all of that in your head after all this time?" Kim asked incredulously.
"That and more, KP. Now you know why I have so much trouble with schoolwork." He rapped his skull a few times with his knuckles. "No room at the inn."
"C'mon Ron, we both know you can do schoolwork when you apply yourself. Look how well you did on the Latin final. I'm sure all this useless stuff like BN SOP and old video game cheat codes you're carrying around would fade away if you studied."
"Excuse me, 'useless stuff'? If I had forgotten that address, mosquitoes the size of fighter planes would be buzzing Miami as we speak. And, more important," he added, patting the cardboard box next to him, "we wouldn't have this case of the discontinued Five Alarm sauce I found in that pile of stuff they were throwing away."
Rufus popped his head out of Ron's cargo pocket. "Ahem!" he protested, gesticulating indignantly.
"Sorry, little buddy, you found."
Kim shook her head and sighed. "There has got to be a flaw in that logic somewhere, but I don't want to think about it right now." She slid closer to him, pressing her body against his as she began nibbling at his right ear. "We only have a little time until our ride gets here, we should probably put it to a better use," she purred seductively.
Ron grinned and put his hands around Kim's waist, pulling her close and giving her a kiss that she felt right down to her toes.
"Ho brother," Rufus said, before scampering off to watch for their ride.
After a long while they stopped for breath; Ron's hands returned to his girlfriend's bare midriff. (Returned? Where did they go during the kiss? Sorry, the narrator was cleaning his eyeglasses during that part.) He pulled back and let his eyes roam up and down her trim figure, then gazed into her emerald green orbs and grinned the most roguish version of his goofy grin, the one that Kim had grown to love over the past weeks.
"Y'know, KP, as hot as you look in the supersuit, there's still a lot to be said for the ol' Kimstyle. Though I think I liked it even better right after you fell in the swamp and were soaking wet."
Kim playfully punched him in the shoulder, and then the pair fooled around some more until their ride arrived.
So, that's chapter 1. In chapter 2, Bonnie hears some surprising news about her squadmates and her beloved 'food chain.' Stay tuned.