A/N: I don't own Kim Possible or any of the characters from the show. This story idea came to me while watching too much TV as I recovered from shoulder surgery.

SPLAT!

'Thoughts'

"Speech"


"I was uneasy. Ever since that disagreement, I haven't seen Kim and this worries me to no small extent. I've seen her temper get the better of her before and it's not a pretty sight."

"(Hic) Who are you talking to?"

"No one, little buddy. Rufus, old pal; everyone is staying away from me."

"(Hic) Why?"

"Easy enough to answer, they don't want to be in the line of fire when Kim finds me. Even Monique bailed on me, 'something about designer clothes being expensive enough without getting them stained also'."

So here I am in 'our' booth, alone-well not quite alone, as I munch on a Nachos-grandee, sized. Even as Rufus and I fight over the Nachos, our eyes are always on the move, never to rest more than a second on any one person or area. Over at the counter, Ned slowly polishes the countertop like some barkeep in a cheesy old western. I started to look away when Ned stopped cleaning the countertop. There, in the reflection of his glasses, I saw the all too familiar black crop top.

'Cue the theme music.' I thought as I scrunched down in 'our' bench. The red vinyl protested as I tried to slide under the table without being noticed. But no luck, she turned to face me. That Desert Eagle loomed large in her hand.

"Lord I wish I hadn't bought her that pistol! To tell the truth, the Ron-man doesn't know or care what caliber the Desert Eagle is! That pistol has a bore the size of a freaking cannon and she's pointing it at me!"

"I pushed out from under 'our' table with the report of rapid fire behind me and scuttled across the floor. Looking over my shoulder I saw my true Love remove her sunglasses and there was no mercy in those green eyes. She was a huntress and she had selected her prey. Unfortunately, that would be me."

The ice on the floor around the soda machine made for treacherous footing, as I found out the hard way. Luck was with me as Kim's shot missed when I slipped and fell but Bon-Bon wasn't so lucky when the top part of her cheer costume had red liquid everywhere..."

"Without a word the not-so-innocent victim of the gunwoman's rampage looked shocked, I lost sight of Bonnie as I ducked behind Tara's table."

"(Hic) Why the running monolog?"

"Got it from one of my fav black & white TV series, Dragnet, it seems to fit."

"EEEPPP!!!"

"That sounds like Tara! Kim's getting close, time to split!"

Matching action to my words, I sprinted for the back door when my side went numb. Landing heavily on the linoleum floor I slid to the glass door knowing it was already too late for me.

As I stared up at Kim in her mission clothes, I saw her holster that pistol where she would have carried her hairdryer/grappler. I pressed my hand to my side and it came away wet and sticky. Glancing down, I saw that the palm of my hand was red, I had lost!

"Well Ron, no Zombies this weekend. It's the Cheer Squad vs. their BFs in Middleton Park this Saturday for a paintball battle."

"Kim, couldn't you wait until after I finish my nachos before shooting me?"