The two Kims confronted herself in the kitchen. Startled, Kim's mom dropped the platter holding the roast beef, which shattered loudly as it hit the floor.
Kims’ right hands shot out, pointing at Kim. “CLONE!” she screamed at herself.
Both Kims went for the refrigerator. The seated Kim was closer, but at a disadvantage because the table restricted her ability to stand. The standing Kim had the table between her position and the ‘fridge. As she leaped across the table plates and glasses crashed to the ground, adding to the chaos.
Kims reached the refrigerator at the same instant. They jerked open the doors and their hands collided as they sought to grab the same can of diet soda. Their hands collided again as they gave up on the first can simultaneously and reached for a second. Then each grabbed the can closest to her, Kims shook the cans then popped them open -- spraying the other Kim with soda. They glared at each other for a minute, expecting to see the other dissolve into a puddle of bubbling green slime.
“Uh, KP,” Ron suggested, “wasn't it supposed to be real soda instead of diet?”
“Sugar! Thanks Ron,” the Kims said together.
“Kim, stop it this instant,” her mother demanded.
“Sorry, mom,” they said, “got to take care of the clone first.”
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending upon your perspective, the tweebs had root beer cooling in the ‘fridge, which soon was warming on the two Kims -- neither of whom had the decency to dissolve into green slime.
While the Kims stood, panting in rage and glaring at each other, Shego pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “Nice clone, Stoppable, where did you get her?”
“My Kim a clone? No way Shego! I got the genuine twenty-four carrot Kim.”
“I think you mean carat,” she told him.
While Ron pondered how she could tell the difference it became apparent that the largest case of rage in the room came not from either of the Kims, but was directed towards them, “KIM!”
“Yes, mom,” they said sheepishly.
“You will clean this kitchen, and I mean a thorough cleaning. How could you make a mess like this?”
“But she--” each said, glaring at the other.
“Clean!”
“Sorry, let me get a mop--” They glared again, “I'll get the mop, not you,” they said together.
“No. You will first go take a shower and wash the soda off,” she told them. She handed them each a dishtowel. “But dry some of it off now. I won't have you leaving sticky tracks through the house.”
“But I just took a shower,” one complained.
“Dibs on first shower,” the other called.
“I won't let you use my bathroom!”
“Your bathroom? I won't let you use my bathroom!”
“Mine!” “Mine!”
“QUIET!” Jean Stoppable ordered. She pointed to one Kim, “Use my bathroom.”
The other Kim started to smirk at her, “And you,” Jean continued, pointing to the second Kim, “use the twins’ bathroom.”
“Mom! That's no fair!”
“March!”
“Want me to come along and wash your back again?” Shego asked, not completely certain to which Kim she was making her offer.
“Shhh,” a Kim shushed her.
“Kimberly Ann Possible!”
Neither spoke, they both headed for the door.
“Stop right there, young lady.” They both stopped -- one with a sense of fear because she heard the sound of the celestial trumpet calling her home in her mother's voice. The other stopped with a sense of glee -- the clone was in trouble. “Why were you in the shower with Shego?”
“You're going to catch it now,” one Kim taunted the other.
“Ah, mom. I take showers with girls in gym class all the time. And after cheerleader practice I shower with the other cheerleaders.”
“And do you wash each other's backs?” Jean asked.
“Or fronts?” Shego added helpfully.
“You're still evil! Are you trying to get me grounded?” Kim snapped.
“You were the one who told me we weren't going all the way unless I was honest with your folks.”
“Going all the way? We will talk about this later,” Jean Possible said through gritted teeth. “March.”
The Kims reluctantly left the room, at least her family was safe from the clone while the fake took a shower.
“Ah, man,” Ron complained to Shego, “you got to shower with her?”
Shego grinned and nodded yes.
“How long have the two of you been, you know?”
The pale woman checked her watch, “If you mean ‘a couple’, four hours and fifty-one minutes.”
“No fair at all. We've been dating for months and I've only been able to cop a feel through her sweater.”
Shego arched an eyebrow and gave him a smile, “You snooze, you lose. Or maybe it's because she's always preferred girls.”
Jean still showed signs of anger as she came to the table, “I'll discuss my daughter with both of you later.”
She then turned to her husband, who appeared to be in a state of shock, “The horror,” he mumbled, ‘the horror!”
“There, there, dear,” she patted his hand. “I can make another.”
“YOU CAN WHAT!” Shego demanded.
“Make another.”
Shego gave her a terrified look, “You made the clone?”
“Clone? No, James is upset over the roast beef, aren't you dear?”
He nodded his head numbly.
“Kim is always having little accidents,” Jean explained. “Once she was stuck to Bonnie, the truth ray was a pain, and there was the time she was turning into a monkey… No, a clone invading the house is pretty much normal around here. But James really loves his roast beef.”
“And you almost never make it,” he complained bitterly.
At this point the backdoor was thrown open and Jim and Tim skidded into the kitchen, “Sorry we're late, we--” They looked around the kitchen -- soda dripping from the walls and pooled on the floor, a broken platter and roast beef on the floor, and the place settings from the half the table also broken or scattered around. “Whoa… We didn't do it,” Jim said. “We weren't even here.”
Tim gave his brother an elbow to the ribs, “Yes we were,” he hissed, “Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Mom, Dad, if the police ask, we were here all afternoon, okay?”
Their father sighed, “What did you do this time?”
“We didn't do anything!”
“Yeah, I mean someone attaches an anti-gravity non-inertial drive to a police car and levitates it--”
Jim caught his brother in the rib with his elbow. “He means, assuming that is how it was done. We wouldn't know, since we didn't do it.”
“Oh, right. Well someone put a police car onto the roof of the YMCA. And for some reason we're the first names that pop into people's heads. It's no fair.”
“Yeah,” his twin added, “we're tired of everyone blaming everything on us.”
Their mother rolled her eyes, “Well, if you were here all afternoon you must have made this mess. Start picking up broken dishes.”
“So you'll tell the police we were here?”
“I never said that. Regard this as just the first phase of your sentence.”
“She was turning into a monkey one time?” Shego asked, puzzled.
As the twins began the cleaning process Ron told her the story.
Some fifteen minutes after the Kims left the noise of fighting in her room reached the kitchen.
“Now what?” their father grumbled.
“They probably want to wear the same outfit,” Shego suggested
“I'll settle it,” Jean remarked, leaving the kitchen.
“They want to wear the same outfit?” Tim asked.
“And why is the crazy green lady here?” Jim wondered.
“I'm afraid your sister had a little accident today,” James started to explain.
“And now she and her former worst enemy want to have hot lesbian sex,” Shego finished.
“Have you heard about the plans to send a probe into a black hole?” James asked her. “If there is a woman inside we can tell people it was an unmanned probe.”
“What Shego said isn't exactly true,” Ron interrupted. “Kim and I--”
“Her clone! Stoppable found a clone somewhere.”
“Did not!”
“Did too! Where were you getting the genetic material Stoppable?”
“Ronald,” James demanded. “I will not have you cloning my daughter. Where did you get DNA sample?”
“Ah, man,” Ron whined.
“See what it feels like to always get the blame,” Tim sympathized.
A few minutes later Jean led the recalcitrant Kims into the room. She had one hand on the arm of each of them. She had them stand by the sink. “You can clean after supper. Will either of you admit to being the clone before we eat?”
“No,” they said together.
Kim pointed at Kim, “ She's obviously a fake. She loves Shego. I never loved Shego.”
“That's right,” Ron seconded, “it's not like Kim ever had Shego's picture up in her locker or anything… Hey, wait a minute KP, you did have her picture up in your locker.”
“Mug shots, Ron, mug shots. I had Drakken and Monkey Fist's pictures up too.”
“Yeah, but you never changed them. I remember an eight by ten glossy of Shego signed, ‘All my love, XXX'!”
“It was a fake Ron. I never put up that picture.”
Shego spoke up, “That's true. I broke into her locker and put it up to play with her head.”
“See,” Kim said.
“Of course, I didn't destroy it. It's still in my history book,” Kim pointed out.
“Evidence!” Kim shouted, “I was going to have Wade analyze it and see if he could find out anything about where she was hiding.”
Kim raised an eyebrow, “Then why didn't I give it to him?”
“How often do I see him in the flesh?”
“When do I need to? He can analyze things with the Kimmunicator--”
Two hands dove into pockets and two Kimmunicators emerged. Two thumbs hit the ‘call’ button and two voices barked, “Wade, we've got a situation.”
Wade appeared on screen momentarily, tapping his monitor. “Some sort of a problem, Kim. I'm getting a weird double image of you.”
“It's a clone,” Kims said. “I need you to tell my mom and dad I'm real.”
“Why don't you just go the soda route?”
“Been there, done that,” they groaned.
“You sure she's a clone?” Wade asked. “Could she be a robot, or android, or something different?”
“That's why I'm calling you,” they told him.
“You each have a Kimmunicator? Okay, hold them out and let me scan you.” Bands of green light shot out, slowly scanning up Kims’ bodies. “Okay, you're both human -- the surface scan shows you're identical but that doesn't prove much. One of you could even be Camille Leon.”
“Will a clone be genetically identical?” they demanded. “That would show if she was Camille. Is there any way to identify a clone?”
“There are lots of ways to identify clones. They won't have the same non-genetic characteristics -- like a scar. And there is no way to give them all the knowledge of her life the original would have. And while DNA would be identical there are some subtle differences between the cells of a fast grown clone and someone who has really lived--”
“That should be enough,” Kim's said. “I'll call you back if--”
“Don't turn the Kimmunicator off,” Wade requested. “I want to know what's happening.”
They propped their Kimmunicators up on the table, giving Wade a sort of stereopticon view as they simultaneously raised the left side of their shirts slightly and exclaimed “Aha!”
Jean moved over and examined the small scars just below Kims’ ribs. “It appears to be the same.”
Ron laid his head on the table and groaned.
“What's wrong Stoppable?”
“My fault, I did that to her. I panicked when my marshmallow caught on fire and started waving it around… I thought I'd killed her with the stick.”
The green woman patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Could happen to anyone. You two have known each other since forever. How old were you at the time? Five? Six?”
“Try two months ago,” Kims hissed through clenched teeth.
“Okay, whoever made the clone copied her outer surface very well,” Jean observed. “Jim, go find some paper. Tim, two pencils. Girls, please sit down at the table where you can't copy from each other. You need to take a little test.”
Fifteen minutes Jean held the two answer sheets up side by side. Every answer was identical. She frowned slightly and put one page over the other and held them up to the light, “Even the handwriting is identical,” she remarked.
Each Kim rubbed a cotton swab inside her cheek and deposited the result on the Kimmunicators’ analysis trays. Wade examined the data. “Identical DNA… Let me check for signs of artificial aging…” A minute later he announced, “There is no sign of artificial aging. I didn't think anyone on earth had that cloning technology.”
“Maybe no one on earth does,” Kim remarked. “But Warmonga doesn't come from earth.”
“Warmonga?” everyone but Ron said together.
“Yeah, she transported me to her ship and--”
“I was never transported to her ship.”
“Well I was!” Kim caught the looks the others gave each other.
“What do you mean transported?” Wade asked.
“As in beamed to her ship. There was this blue light, and then BAM I was in orbit.”
Kim and Shego shook their heads. “A blue light hit me while I was in Bortel's lab,” Kim said. “But I stayed right there fighting Shego.”
“Maybe the blue light was Warmonga doing a brain scan to program the clone,” Shego suggested.
“No way! I'm me! She must have beamed this lesbian copy into Bortel's lab when she transported me out.”
“Lame,” was Shego's assessment of Kim's theory. “The real Kim went to Bortel's lab and we've got a solid chain of custody evidence from her arrival at Bortel's lab to her coming home with me.”
“A solid chain of custody evidence with your fingerprints all over her,” Kim pointed out.
“I'm not complaining,” Kim remarked.
Kim still protested, “I can't be the clone. I love Ron. How could I be in love with Shego?”
“Did Warmonga program you with why I was in Bortel's lab?”
“Warmonga didn't program me! I was there to guard some idiotic love potion.”
“I wouldn't exactly call it idiotic,” Shego pointed out. “It seemed to work remarkably well when the real Kim and I took a dose of it while we were fighting.”
“So you might go back to normal?” Jean interrupted.
“Are you saying being gay is abnormal?” Shego asked.
“You wouldn't love me if I came out of the closet?” Kim continued.
“I'm not in the closet! I'm straight!” Kim protested.
“Of course I'll love my children, no matter what their orientation is,” Jean said, giving Kim a hug. But I'm curious if the chemicals that started this, ah, feeling could wear off?”
“We washed it off,” Kim said.
“Carefully. Very carefully. Very, very--”
“She gets the picture!”
“And Bortel gave us the antidote, it didn't do anything to change us. Besides,” Shego pointed out, looking at Ron, “does Stoppable think he's man enough for two Kims?”
Ron quietly appeared very nervous.
Kim continued. “The chemical may have given me a push to start me thinking. But I'm happy the way I am. I want to stay this way. I'm sorry Ron. I've kissed you. I've kissed Shego… and I like kissing her more.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Kim complained.
She went over and kissed the startled Ron. Before passing out he wondered if his socks were rolling up and down. Those in the kitchen watched in awe as his body went rigid, then limp. When Kim straightened up from his unconscious form steam was coming from the blonde boy's ears.
“I bet he needs clean underwear,” Tim whispered.
Shego commented, “You've been holding out on me, Possible.”
“Both of you are grounded,” Kims’ mother remarked sternly.
Well,” James Possible announced. “I think it's perfectly obvious what happened.” His assertion, if anything, left the others in the kitchen even more nervous than before.
“What is your idea, dear?” Jean asked.
“I'll tell you at dinner. I'm starved.”
It took two cars to transport everyone to the House of Dead Cow for dinner. James took the two Kims, who sat in the back seat silently looking daggers at each other and Jim. Shego and Ron rode in the back of Jean's car.
“I like her laugh,” Ron said, “it's like music.”
“Her eyes,” Shego sighed. “I could spend all day looking into them.”
“Oh yeah,” Ron agreed. “And her lips…”
“Mmmmm,” Shego purred. “But you've never seen the little birthmark she has--”
“That's quite enough, you two,” Jean snapped. “Please remember her mother and younger brother are sitting in the front seat and listening to everything you say.”
“Ha,” Ron whispered and punched Shego softly on the shoulder, “I win. I kissed her first.”
“Well I--”
“QUIET YOU TWO!”
“Yes, Dr. Possible,” they said together.
At the House of Dead Cow the tweebs were allowed a small booth to themselves. The Drs. Possible sat between the Kims and their boy friend/girl friend. Shego's Kim didn't mind sitting across from Ron, but Ron's Kim objected vehemently to sitting opposite Shego.
“Isn't this cozy,” James Possible asked cheerfully as the waiter brought their menus.
For the first time that evening five minds were in agreement as they thought, “No.”
Don't review! Reviews force continuation! Let this die! I don't want to write “Who's Sleeping in My Bed?”