Written for coffeebased for Yuletide 2009.
Sometimes Kim Pine wonders why she even gets out of bed in the morning. She hates her roommate, Hollie (cheating bitch), she has the lamest job in the world (yes,sir, we keep those sorts of DVDs in the back, behind the Transformers display), and the one decent thing in her world, playing drums in the band (We are Sex-Bomb-omb!) has ground to an amazing halt because they are "recording."
She just wants to spend a little time with her best friend's surprisingly cool ex-girlfriend Ramona Flowers (soon-to-be-not-ex if he can pull up his pants and man up) before they have to meet up with Scott later.
Really, jeez, she thinks as she twirls a drumstick around her finger and pokes one of the ninjas in the eye (ZING!), while punching another with a gloved fist (THUNK!) -- is it too much to wish for a bonus level every once in a while, instead of always having to fight toward the big boss at the end?
Ramona obviously feels the same way. Her hair flies back as she scissor-kicks her opponent with a booted foot.
"All!" She spins and slices at another in the throat.
"I!" She cartwheels over to snag a tray.
"Want!" She smacks a girl ninja full-face.
"Is!" The girl stumbles back to crash into one of the red plastic tables.
"A frozen yogurt!"
Kim elbows the last one in the mouth, and he crumples. The ninjas flash like seizure-inducing strobe lights and then disappear. A shower of prize coins hits the table where they left their winter coats. There is a smattering of applause from the other patrons, and then they all go back to their desserts.
Just another day in Kim Pine's Annoying Little Life.
Ramona swipes a hand across her sweaty brow and nonchalantly brushes herself off. Then she walks over to their table and picks up one of the glittering coins. "You want this?" she asks Kim. "I just got paid, so..."
"Yeah, okay." Kim slides the coins off into her hand and then into her pocket. (KACHING! Kim Pine gets $15.79 and 10 exp. points!) No need to go advertising it, but she could use a little extra. Kim jerks her head toward the register. "I'll go get the yogurts. What do you want?"
"They got anything tequila-flavored?" Ramona drawls.
Kim barks a laugh. "You should put in a comment card."
"Then whatever. You choose for me."
"Vanilla, no toppings," Kim says, deadpan. "Don't want the gummi bears to clash with your hair."
Ramona smiles, twirling one pink-dyed lock between her fingers. She gets Kim's sense of humor, unlike Hollie (bipolar slut). "Nice." Ramona says, feigning a lack of sarcasm. "And so thoughtful."
Matching Ramona's sincerity with a bright little nod, Kim slides up to the counter. "One small white chocolate with chocolate chips, and one small vanilla..." She steals a glance at Ramona, who is staring blankly out the yogurt shop window. It's funny. Even with her bright pink hair, Ramona almost seems to fade into the crowd with some unspoken sadness. "...with strawberries."
"Got it." The guy at the register types in the order and then looks pointedly over at the overturned tables to the left.
"What." She gives him a glare. No one picks up at No-Account Video when there's a brawl in the family section except her.
He backs down and shrugs. "Two yogurts, coming right up."
Kim turns her back and doesn't bother to watch him make them. She plays it cool, waiting until he's got the little cup under the noisy yogurt-spewing machine to say, "And don't even think of spitting in them." She doesn't even ruin the effect by turning around again to catch his bewildered, guilty look.
Instead, she watches Ramona.
She's mysterious (Kim likes that), cool under pressure (Kim would give her prize Zildjian to be as cool as Ramona) and fun. Kim doesn't know if it's just the way New Yorkers act, but Kim really enjoys her touch of American badassness in this way-too-Canadian city.
When the yogurts are done, she brings them to the table and sits. Ramona takes her spoon without comment on the strawberries, and digs in, still lost in her own thoughts.
Kim wants to get Ramona out of this sudden funk, but she can't come up with a decent topic of conversation. "Um..." she starts, wincing inwardly. "You... make any interesting deliveries lately?" Then she winces outwardly.
"Huh?" Ramona says, coming out of her daze. "Interesting deliveries? Oh... no, nothing really."
"Still, it's gotta be more interesting than working in a video store." Kim exaggerates a yawn, her plastic spoon hanging from her mouth.
"All right..." Ramona leans forward. "Last month... I almost lit one of my packages on fire with a cigarette."
Kim almost chokes on her spoon. "HAHAHA! How?"
"Guess I shouldn't try to make deliveries the morning after one of Julie's stupid theme parties." She takes another bite of her yogurt. "Too hungover to do two things at once."
"Oh, man, I wish I'd been there to see it...!"
As she's laughing, she sees another freakin' ninja sneak in the side door out of sight of Ramona. Kim prepares to jump up and take him down, but Ramona's hand slips quietly into her purse, and withdraws her giant mallet from the subspace pocket.
With a whirling leap, she smashes the mallet down (THOOM!), just missing the ninja. He jumps over the top of the weapon, sailing above their heads. Kim tries to tackle him to the floor, but Ramona's mallet doubles back and hits the ninja's spine with a satisfying CRACK! He explodes into multi-colored coruscating fireworks.
(LEVEL COMPLETED, 500 bonus points!)
Ramona calmly stuffs the mallet back in her purse. "I almost didn't get that one."
"C'mon," Kim says, completely serious. "You're Ramona Flowers."
The corner of Ramona's mouth turns up. "Guess so."
"Hey, you wanna get some coffee?" Kim asks, pushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Sure," Ramona says, blowing at a curling strand of pink in her face. "I think we've reached our ninja quotient for the day."
They push their way out of the yogurt shop into the biting winter wind. Kim smiles as the cold starts to numb her ears. Maybe Scott will forget all about this stupid meeting she's secretly bringing Ramona to (he doesn't deserve Ramona, anyway). She wouldn't mind at all.