Chapter 1 - Part 1

now loading: kids next door mission

operation: t.a.m.i.n.g.

temperamental

adolescent

meets

ingenious

navigator

guy

writing operative: mr. f

copyright commanders: mr. waburton, cartoon network []



"RRRAH!!!" An earth-shattering wail shook the plywood stalls of the summer carnival, startling the visitors and turning their heads towards the scene. Kids and carnies alike gaped as they watched what was once a crooked Shooting Gallery twist and contort as if undergoing intense, intestinal distress. A pair of oversized hands was squeezing crazily on the booth, putting upon it pressure upon pressure until it could take no more. Soon, the booth shattered into a conflagration of pop-guns and targets, revealing its great destroyer: a gigantic, mutated female with horn-like braids bolting from her skull, pulsating warts speckled on her face, and a great, bellowing voice that even now was hollering the nature of her extreme beef with the world: "ICE CREAM NOW!!!"

Yes, the Big Badolescent was certainly making a scene in the once-peaceful uptown amusement facility. She knocked down snack bars. She overturned stools. Everyone around was running desperately from this whirling menace of arms, boards, and cheaply made stuffed animals as those arms continued to lay waste to the premises. "I WANT PINEAPPLE FROZEN YOGURT CRUNCH!!!" she continued to demand, though none seemed too eager to fulfill the requests of this prepubescent psycho.

Violently jerking from his ice cream cone, Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr. let out a gasp of surprise as he was alerted to the escalating disaster. The rotund boy known as Numbuh Two watched with petrified amazement as the Big Badolescent continued her rampage among the fairgrounds. Swiftly, he turned to the ice cream man fretting in the stand behind him, another poor soul enveloped with shock and fear. "What’s goin’ on?" he asked somewhat tactlessly, not entirely heeding the other’s horrified expression.

"That loco girl went ballistic, just because we didn’t have her favorite ice cream flavor!" the man blurted out in a frenzy, twitching about as if trying to dodge imagined debris. He clenched his head in mental agony, staring off into empty space. "I told the boss that we should restock that pineapple stuff, but did he listen? Nooo!"

"Um yeah, heh heh…" the boy chuckled with a nervous quiver, smiling like a car salesmen under fire. "That’s too bad..." Leaving the man to his anxieties, Numbuh Two walked away slowly from the ice cream stand, enveloped in flustered thought. Ignoring the dramatics around him, he instead looked down to the frozen yogurt cone he held in his grasp. He observed its swirling shape, the granola embedded within the yogurt, the little bits of pineapple stuck among the granola, and sighed.

"I guess I’m the only one who can take care of this," he resolved reluctantly, staring with regret at his cone. "Man, all I was tryin’ to do was cut down." He then started his stride.

Back at the action, the Big Badolesent had lost no steam in her quest for soft-serve vengeance. She had now obtained a large ice cream cart, which she held above her head like a sacred, golden calf. With a terrible rage upon her face, she loomed dangerously down upon who appeared to be the park manager, a balding man in his late thirties. Blubbering pathetically, he stammered out weak apologies and bent down in appeal before the tween titan.

"P-please, Miss Badolescent, control yourself!" the manager pleaded up to the beast and her ice cream cart. "We have many other wonderful flavors, which we are sure will be to your liking!"

But the monster girl was unsympathetic to the man’s arguments. "ONLY PINEAPPLE FROZEN YOGURT CRUNCH SATIFIES NEEDS OF SKUNKY SCOUT TROOPS!!!" she declared with gusto, her flapping mouth showing off her glimmering white jaws. Raising the cart above her head, she readied the object for a piledriver upon the manager. Her bulging eyes were swirling with insanity, and her apelike teeth ground together within a mouth entirely devoid of Pineapple Frozen Yogurt Crunch.

"YOU SUFFER FOR DAMAGING SANCTATY OF FRAGILE FEMALE HEART!" she hollered out, beginning to bring the object down.

"No!" the manager squealed, covering his head with his hands.

At that moment, all had seemed to be written by this wacko’s whim. But just then, a single young voice cried out: "Stop!"

"HUH?!" the Big Badolescent burbled, stopping her homicidal lunge. Bringing the ice cream cart upright as quickly as she had let it fall, she turned her head franticly for the interference, a familiar smell tingling throughout her nostrils. Sniffing like a boar, the monster girl let her nose rout out the aroma, which eventually lead her to the source of the prior disturbance. And it was a sight that caused her to drop the ice cream cart altogether. "OOOH!"

Among the once paranoid populous, a reverent silence had taken hold of the people, as if the ground where the Big Badolescent and the manager occupied was holy ground. A large break had formed within the crowd, letting though a round boy of around eleven years old. Like Moses crossing the Red Sea, he steadily made his way towards the beast, carrying an object as if it were a sacrifice to an ancient deity As well he should, for this object, shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun, was more valuable than any golden calf.

"YAY!" the Big Badolescent cheered, clapping her hands like a schoolgirl. "PINEAPPLE FROZEN YOGURT CRUNCH!" Forgetting about the manager, (who had since then skittered away) she bounded over to the boy in a strange combination between skipping and stomping. With a giant paw, she eagerly reached for the boy’s frozen yogurt cone, who relinquished the object with a nervous smile. And with her gigantic tongue, she started loudly slurping away at it, her mouth contorting in a smile that seemed completely alien to the former engine of destruction.

But that wasn’t the only thing that seemed completely alien about her. For just a few moments after she had received her treat, a strange transformation began to overcome the Big Badolescent. Her hands began to shrink to a normal size and her body slimmed down to about a third of her former girth. Another two seconds later, and where the beast once stood was now a young African American girl, with eyeglasses, a scout uniform, the same horn-like braids, and an innocence that completely belied her darker nature.

Laura Limpin rose from her spot on the ground, tilting her glasses and licking her cone. "I really like Pineapple Frozen Yogurt Crunch!" she stated cheerfully, as if nothing had happened at all. She turned towards Numbuh Two, and latched onto his side with a ferocious hug. "Thank you, Mister Hoagie, sir!" she squealed, a smile of half-crazed joy affixed to her face.

"Aww!" the crowd cooed, apparently having forgotten their imperilment for the sappy sitcom that was this scene.

"Eh heh-heh-heh…!" Numbuh Two put a hand to the back of his head, looking away from the kid and chucking nervously. Inside though, he had a cold feeling in his chest that things were about to get really messy. And that wasn’t just the frozen yogurt that was getting smeared on his jacket.



"We’re goin’ to a sleep-o-ver! We’re goin’ to a sleep-o-ver! We’re goin’ to, we’re goin’ to, we’re goin’ to a sleep-o-ver!" Down the neighborhood road, an irritating, bouncy jingle could be heard emanating from a skipping, hyperactive nine-year-old. The little girl took huge, leaping steps outrageous for the size of her legs, turning her gait into a series of jumps and springs. Her face was a mask of oblivious joy, her spectacled lenses seeing nothing but her own enjoyment. So she was completely unaware that her new-found-friend was not synchronous with her happiness, and was in fact, wishing he were somewhere else.

Numbuh Two groaned with distaste as he was dragged against his will by Laura’s small, but surprisingly strong hand. His feet drummed away as he tried his best to keep up with his capricious captor. "But why do we gotta go to your house now?" he complained loudly, trying to wretch his fingers away from hers. "I got things I need to do!"

"Aw, but you gave me my favorite frozen yogurt flavor!" she responded jovially, ignoring his futile efforts to escape. "You’re my bestest friend!" The young scout thought over this revelation for a moment, then burst into song again. "Best friend, best friend, best friend times ten!"

The boy only groaned at the irritating tune, and did his best to cringe away from the girl. It had been like this ever since they left the ruined carnival. After receiving her PFYC, Laura had latched onto him like some sort of fungus, all but demanding that he come with her to her house for a slumber party. Before he knew what was happening, he was an unwilling prisoner of both Laura Limpin and the Big Badolescent, a singular pair that he’d only deal with equipped with two SCAMPPS, a SPLANKER, and maybe a big rubber band for flinging her away.

"But I barely even know you!" he tried again, his face filled with desperation. "C’mon, quit tuggin’, this is embarrassing!" Numbuh Two furtively looked around, wondering if anybody had seen them. Just as he was glancing towards the sidewalk across from them, a pair of middle aged soccer-mom types locked eyes with him. His ears reddened, and he turned away in humiliation as both of them pointed and giggled at the boy and his girlfriend/adopted sister. (they couldn’t decide which)

"We’ll be at my house soon, and Mom’s gonna have a pot roast waitin’ for us!" Laura continued, still not responding to Numbuh Two’s pleas. "And then we’ll play and play and play, all night long!" The girl went into an excited, dreamlike state, her irises glossing up with a certain romanticism. "We’ll play with toys, we’ll play with jacks! And then, you can try on all of the skunk hides I skinned to get my merit badges!"

That was it. "Alright, enough!" Numbuh Two cried out, finally wretching his hand free from the girl’s titanium grip. "I’m not gonna deal with this any more! There’s gonna be no toys, no jacks, NO SLEEPOVER!" He put his hands on his hips in a manner not unlike an angry matron. "Understand, kid!?"

This shocked the girl right to the bone, causing her to gasp and put her hands to her mouth. Numbuh Two blinked guiltily and took a step back, wondering if he had said what he should have said. Both of them were now stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other in silence. And Laura slowly turned away, and clenched her hands into two shaking little fists.

"Mister Hoagie’s gonna go to a sleepover with me," she said quietly, an ugly tremor forming in the back of her voice box. "Or Mister Hoagie’s gonna be a HOAGIE SANDWICH!" In a burst of blubber, she elevated upward to three times her size, her glasses disappearing, her braids going akimbo. And then, she was the Big Badolescent once again, raising the boy up by the neck and giving him her meanest, most psychopathic glare.

"ACK!" Numbuh Two squealed, his voice cracking like a teenage girl. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and his teeth chattered like a bad canasta player. "Y-yes, ma’am!" he stuttered, trying to conjure up something like a smile. "I mean, my dear friend!"

The beast suddenly let out a gigantic smile. "GOOD!" she said with satisfaction, placing the boy roughly back on the sidewalk. After a quick metamorphosis, Laura was again back to her sweet old self, popping right back to Numbuh Two’s side and taking his hand. "Now we gotta hurry, ‘fore the pot roast gets coldy cold!"

Once again, Laura took off skipping and singing down the sidewalk, taking Numbuh Two along for the ride. The boy took one last tug on her hand before sighing in defeat. Like it or not, he was stuck with this strange little girl for the moment. He’d just have to find some way to grin and bear it, at least until he could somehow make a getaway.



"Mom!" Laura shrilled, her voice echoing throughout the expanses of the foyer. "I’m home!" Her pupils grew with excitement, almost completely taking over the lenses of her spectacles. "And I brought a boy with me! Come see!"

"Just a minute, honey!" a motherly voice called out from beyond the top of the stairs. "I’m almost done with my curlers!"

"But Mo-oom, I want you to come now!" the girl whined, squirming about as if about to wet her pants. "Come see, come see, come see!" she cried, jumping up and down and rattling the ceramics on top of the ornate cabinet to Numbuh Two’s right.

The voice sighed in submission. "Aright, dear!" she responded after a moment, making a few noises with what were probably the hairdressing utilities. "I’m coming down now!"

"Yay!" Laura yelled, raising her hands in victory.

Numbuh Two had stayed hushed up throughout this exchange, opting instead to take a look around the room. From the doorway where he stood, he could see that the two-story Limpin household was quite an upscale residence, with leather furnishings and expensive knickknacks filling every barren place available. He had half-expected to see huge, Badolescent-shaped holes in the wall, or at least the signs of intensive repair. (The stuff she does out there probably doesn't go on in here,) he determined, rubbing his chin in a somewhat thoughtful manner.

The sound of light footfalls shook the boy out of his reverie, and he raised his head to look at a woman in a bathrobe coming down the stairs. Mrs. Limpin was an attractive, thirty-some woman with dark skin and the same fine hair as her daughter. At the moment though, this hair was wound up in an array of pink curlers. But her frazzled state didn’t stop him from accepting her little girl into her arms, and giving Numbuh Two her finest smile.

"So you’re the new friend!" Mrs. Limpin said, looking over the boy approvingly. "It’s so nice to see my Laura meeting people outside of her Skunky Scout group, and a member of the Kids Next Door to boot." Her smile seemed to grow ten shades brighter. "What a nice bunch of youngsters you all are!"

"Y-yeah, that’s us!" Numbuh Two babbled, trying to look as sure of himself as possible. He had decided it would be best to humor Laura’s mother for the moment. (I guess she doesn’t quite know what the KND really do,) he mused to himself, though outwardly he continued to keep up his false grin.

Thankfully, Mrs. Limpin only glossed over the boy’s face for a moment. "Well, I’m glad to have you join us here in our happy home!" she said, starting her turn towards the kitchen area. "We’ve got dinner all prepared, so you all just mosey on over and we’ll get started!"

"Alright!" Laura cheered, running alongside her mother. "Pot roast time!"

The woman stopped in mid step, and turned her head to glance at her daughter. "Pot roast?" she said curiously, tilting her head slightly. Then, she started chuckling. "Oh, you must’ve misheard me!" she clarified, putting her hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles, "We’re having pot pies tonight!"

Laura stopped. "Pot pies?" she whispered, her voice a quiet measure of disappointment. Then, she clutched her head and started making wild, lizard-like convolutions. "B-but I HATE POT PIES!!!" she blurted out, her eyes bulging out of their sockets and practically bursting out of her glasses. Her neck burst with varicose veins, and her forehead exploded with a multitude of pimples. "YOU MAKE POT ROAST RIGHT NOW!" the Big Badolescent roared, in a voice harsh enough to chill the depths of Hades themselves.

But it only served to make Mrs. Limpin mad. "DON’T YOU TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, YOUNG LADY!!!" she screamed out, her voice equaling the fervor of her challenging charge. In a bolt of mass and muscle, the woman rose nearly ten feet taller, almost breaking the chandelier that dangled from a gold chain on the ceiling. "YOU’LL EAT POT PIES AND LIKE IT!!!" this new terror ordered, flexing her imposing build and giving the Big Badolescent a very evil eye. "OR YOU’RE GETTING THE MOTHER OF ALL SPANKINGS!! FROM YOUR MOTHER!!!"

"YEEP!!!" the younger Limpin croaked , shriveling backwards like a stray dog. "Y-YES, MOM!!!" she warbled pitifully, her voice a combination between the Norwegian barbarians and the little girl she actually was.

The Big Badult nodded her head in satisfaction, and instantly shrunk down to a normal height. "That’s more like it!" she said, once again adopting her cookie-cutter persona. With a cheery bounce in her step, Mrs. Limpin strode back towards the kitchen. "Now come over to the sink and wash up," she called out behind her, disappearing behind the doorway. "Those awful pimples will ruin that pretty face of yours."

With a reluctant sigh, the Big Badolescent started shrinking back to Laura Limpin Level again. Once she was finished, she dejectedly followed her mother to the kitchen, towards a good scrub down and untasty pot pies.

Numbuh Two just watched all of this with wide eyes and a slack jaw. (I didn’t think anything could scare the Big Badolescent,) he thought, staring curiously at where Laura and Mrs. Limpin had retreated to. But he shrugged off these judgements a second later, opting instead to follow them to the back of the house. He liked pot pies, after all, and he was quite hungry for a good, home-cooked meal.



After dinner was finished and the plates were dry, the Limpin residence was settling down for the night. The setting sun had convinced everyone that it was time to take a break, and get that last burst of energy out of their systems. Mrs. Limpin had retired to the den, wanting to watch her favorite ongoing show "Survivor: Antarctica- Where Nobody Wins But the Reaper." Leaving the two kids to find their own fun around the house.

"Come on, Mister Hoagie, hurry up!" Laura called down from the top of the stairs. "Hurry up, hurry up, hurry UP!" she persisted, letting a bit of her Big Bad self leak through the soprano of her voice.

"All right, all right, I’m comin’!" Numbuh Two grumbled, trying his best to avoid another spaz attack from his pint-sized warden. But to tell the truth, he was actually feeling pretty good right about now. Though he had neglected to make an exit, he had landed a warm meal that he wouldn’t have gotten at his own, weight-conscious home. It didn’t make the trip worthwhile, but it gave him enough spirit to tough out the remaining time until morning.

(Besides, what could a little girl like her possibly have to scare me?) Numbuh Two thought with a snigger, as he ascended the remaining steps to the upper hallway. (Probably just a bunch of girl magazines and Rainbow Monkey stuff, like Numbuh’s Three’s room)

As Numbuh Two finished the walk to Laura’s bedroom, the girl smiled happily at his arrival. "You’re here!" she called out, giving the boy a nice looking smile.

"‘Guess I am," he said daringly, feeling bolder than he had all day. "Now let’s get goin’!"

Laura beamed and nodded. Enthusiastically, she skipped away and entered her room, leaving Numbuh Two to follow her. Fairly unperturbed, the young pilot meandered towards the open door, putting his hands folded behind his back. Brushing aside the wooden bead strings that hung over the doorway, he moved slowly into the room, mentally preparing for whatever girly ridiculousness that was lying in wait. But none of the mental walls he had put up for himself could possibly prepare him for the surprise that overloaded his senses.

Fortunately, it was a pleasant one.

"Wow!" Numbuh Two cried, shaken completely out of any doubt that was remaining within him. "Fliers!"

Laura smiled, nodding her head happily. "Uh huh!"

Laura Limpin’s small room was entirely decorated with model airplanes of various sizes. The bookshelf, the desk, and the drawers were dotted with F-14s, Tomkats, two helicopters with working propellers, and one pitch-black Stealth Bomber. Even the walls carried flight memorabilia, with everything from posters of airplanes and blimps, to a wall-scroll of a 1930s zeppelin, to a yellowed reproduction photo of the Wright Brothers first flight. And judging by the excited look she was giving her surroundings, Laura was very, very much into every little bit of it.

Still in awe of the girl’s hidden hobby, Numbuh Two wandered over to a Red Baron-type glider, picking it up. "I didn’t know you were into fliers, Laura," he said breathlessly, peering absently over the biplane with detached fascination.

"We make them in Skunky Scouts!" she said proudly, putting her hands on her hips. "Building areoplanes gets us the Red Wings merit badge!"

"Geez…" The boy put a hand to his forehead, shaking his head in disbelief. "Almost makes me wish I didn’t quit Cub Scouts." He then brought the biplane back to eye level, creasing his brow in contemplation. "This one’s no good, though," he said, regarding the object with a critical eye.

"Huh?" Laura murmured, her manner taking on a dangerous lilt. "My areoplane’s…no gooOOD…!?"

"’Fraid so," Numbuh Two responded distractedly, completely missing the little miss’ twitch of insanity. "Y’see, you need to adjust the balance on the right wing, or it won’t fly straight. It’s aerodynamics, you know. Nuthin’ you can do to fiddle with the laws of nature…" The aeronautic boy continued with his techno-babble, fiddling with the Red Baron glider and making small changes to its structure. "There, it should work now," he finished up, giving the renovated glider back to the still touchy girl.

With a trace of the Badolescent within her eyes, Laura cautiously took the plane from the boy’s outstretched hand. Using the expertise her Skunky Scout training had given her, she mulled over the object. Soon, a bright smile shone in her eyes, and the shadow of her alter ego vanished from her face. "It’s better, it’s better!" she cheered, raising the glider above her head like a trophy.

"Of course it is," Numbuh Two boasted, folding his arms in an offbeat interpretation of macho bravado. "You’re lookin’ at Hoagie P. Gilligan, master of the air!"

Laura squealed in joy, dancing about the room as typical of her free-spirited self. "Super Crimson Areoplane, GO!" she shouted out dramatically, thrusting her glider forward and sending it sailing across the room. She laughed happily, her eyes twinkling as she watched the plane crash into the zeppelin wall-scroll and tumble to the carpet. Then, she clapped her hands, and darted forward to retrieve it.

Numbuh Two watched the scout go about her antics silently, content to lean against the wall and observe. And, if anyone besides Laura were to be present, they would’ve seen that the boy had a small smile growing on his face. (She’s kinda cute…)

Temporarily done with her game, Laura ran back toward him, holding in her left hand a yellow biplane glider similar to the Red Baron one. "Now you try!" she chirped, presenting him with a smile and the other plane.

"Ah, do we hafta?" the boy complained, his old reluctance making a comeback. "I’m not really much for playin’ with girls."

"C’mon!" she insisted, giving him her best Bambi impression. "Pretty please? Pretty please with pineapple crunch on top?"

Numbuh Two looked at Laura’s face, which was practically bursting with hope and eagerness. And surprisingly enough, he discovered there was no need for her to threaten him with the Big Badolescent at all. "Okay," he relented, favoring her with a soft smile.

The girl giggled, and handed him the plane. Numbuh Two took hold of the base of the glider, and propped it between his two fingers. Raising it to eye level, he calculated the flight path that would make for the most impressive glide. And with a small heave, he started his throw, sending it off to the cry of: "Ultra Saffron Eagle, GO!"

They both smiled as the plane shot forward.



The early morning sun shone through the breezy curtains and covered the carpet with a golden sheen of radiance. The furniture and posters reflected the light, showing off an ashen mirror image of the window that they faced, and of the trees and bushes that were beyond that window. All across the floor, a montage of aircraft and games were scattered about, memories of the fun the two children had had the night before. One of those children was just arising to the new day, and stroking his sore muscles from a night of sleeping on the floor.

Numbuh Two stretched loudly, letting the cramped bones in his back snap and rattle with the movement. Rubbing his head with his hand, he adjusted the pilot’s gear and goggles that had become misarranged during his slumber. Stepping carefully over the toys and games on the floor, he went over to the chair to receive the jacket he left hanging over it. While slipping the garment on, he took another look at the young girl he had spent so much time with yesterday afternoon and tonight.

Laura Limpin was snoring heavily in her bed, showing off her teeth with every huge breath. Her glasses were resting on the nightstand, and her braids were spread lightly over the pillow she slept on. Her arms were spread out in a very undignified manner, probably the cause of some of the pillows knocked on the floor. And her eyelashes were lying lazily over her upper cheeks, giving her the appearance of a loudmouthed, sweet little angel.

Numbuh Two smiled fondly at his onetime playmate, wagging his head this way and that. There had been a few more scares here and there, but overall the night had been great fun, as he and Laura carried out an epic World War I dogfight up until the wee hours of the morning. Who would’ve thought he would have so much fun with someone he had once considered only a brainless brute? (I almost can’t believe we’ve spent so much time running away from such a neat girl,) he thought, putting his fist on his cheek in reserved amazement. (Well, almost)

Laura was now tossing in her sheets, her eyes clenching up with some phantom worry. "Buy Skunky Scout cookies, or face consequences…" she murmured sleepily, ending the statement with a very masculine sounding snort. Numbuh Two just chucked, and made his way over to the slumbering girl. Taking hold of the blanket, he gently draped in over her sleeping form, and she quieted down, a peaceful sort of smile restring across her lips.

Walking back over to the door, Numbuh Two opened it as quietly as he could and stepped out of the room. And with a final smile, he closed the door, being careful not to let it wake the girl up.

Laura flinched slightly with the light sound of the door, rolling over to face where the boy had departed from. "Come back again, Mister Hoagie," she whispered softly, her lips letting out a small gust of air like a nimbus kiss. She was still asleep.

interrupt transmission []

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