by Lara Bergen
“What is going on out there?” she huffed. Whatever it was, she was going to stop it.
Rrroarrr! Grrrrr! RRAAAHHHH!
BAM! CRASH! BOOM!
Outside, Phineas and Ferb had built a miniature city, and Ferb was now happily destroying it with a fierce green monster marionette. Phineas was recording the whole thing with his video camera.
Hands on her hips, Candace stomped down squarely on the monster puppet (and a few cardboard houses, too) and glared at the puppet strings dangling limply from Ferb’s hand. Then she turned her stern gaze on her brothers.
“Would you keep it down out here?” Candace snapped. “You guys ruin everything! I am trying to practice the art of acting! And I will not be disturbed by your little movies!”
“Not so little anymore,” Phineas said brightly. He lowered his video camera and grinned. “Last week our Web site got a hundred and seventy-six million hits!”
A hundred and seventy-six million? Before Candace could process the number, up walked her mother with her arms full of grocery bags.
“Sorry I’m late,” she told the kids. “They’re filming down the street.”
Candace’s eyes widened. “Filming? What? What are they filming?” she asked.
“A movie version of the play The Princess Sensibilities,” said her mom casually, as she continued on into the house.
“Oh!” Candace gasped. “I would be perfect for that part!” She held up the script. “I’ve been practicing it for my drama club all summer,” she said excitedly. “I’m going to get discovered!” She dashed off and tossed her script into the air.
“That’s serendipitous,” said Phineas, as he and Ferb watched her go. He glanced around the yard. “Hey, where’s Perry?” Their pet platypus had been out in the yard with them all morning but was now nowhere to be seen.
Of course, they didn’t know that Perry wasn’t really the mild-mannered, slow-moving, dim-witted pet he seemed to be. He was a supersecret agent, known to his superiors as Agent P. At that very moment, Perry was up on two feet, dressed in his signature hat, and sitting in his secret cave beneath Phineas and Ferb’s house, receiving orders via satellite from Major Monogram.
“There you are, Agent P!” said Major Monogram as Perry settled into the chair before the huge monitor displaying his image. “There’s something very strange going on with Dr. Doofenshmirtz.”
A picture of Perry’s nemesis in a lab coat, grinning goofily while relaxing on a sunny, tropical-looking beach, popped up on the video screen.
“He’s been very quiet lately,” Major Monogram went on gravely. “A little too quiet!”
He brought up a graph on the screen that charted a steep decline in the villain’s recent activity.
“I want you to find out what’s not going on,” he explained to Perry, “and, uh . . .” —he paused, realizing how unusual his request might seem— “. . . put a . . . stop . . . to it . . .” He shifted his mustache. “I s’pose.”
No mission was too illogical for Agent P. In an instant, he’d spun his seat around and pulled a lever on the side, sending the chair shooting up like a rocket toward the street.
“Good luck, Agent P!” Major Monogram called after him.
Perry’s rocket seat blasted through the asphalt (missing the manhole he’d been aiming for by a few inches, unfortunately) and shot into the sky above the street. Once in the air, Perry coolly pushed another lever, and a whirring helicopter propeller popped up above his chair.
Off he flew to defend justice by putting a stop to Doofenshmirtz’s activities . . . or non-activities . . . or whatever exactly it was he had to do.
Chapter 2
As Agent P zoomed above the city, Candace quickly made her way down the street toward the movie set.
“There it is!” she gasped as she arrived, her eyes zeroing in on the producer’s silver trailer.
She ran up to the door. It was open, so she peered in.
“Um . . . excuse me? Ahem . . . Mr. Producer, sir?” she said.
A grumpy-looking man with a goatee looked over his shoulder as he spoke into his cell phone. “I can’t talk to you right now. My lead actress just quit!”
Candace stepped brightly into the trailer. “Well, sir,” she said, “this is your lucky day!”
She cleared her throat and adjusted her expression into an appropriately princess-like one.
“To think!” Candace said, putting her hand to her head.
“To dream!” She clutched her chest.
“Whether ’tis nobler to love . . .” She fell to her knees dramatically. “I know not.” She dropped her chin to her chest and bowed deeply.
The producer scratched his chin and lowered his phone slowly. “Hmm . . . that’s not bad . . . and you know your lines. Hmm . . .” He thought for a moment.
“I’ll do it for free!” Candace blurted out.
“You’re hired!” he said.
“Really?”
“You bet,” the producer told her. He picked up his phone again and quickly began to punch in numbers. “With the money I save,” he went on to himself, “I’ll be able to hire the hottest new directors in town!” He grinned as his call went through. “Hello.”
Candace, of course, was ecstatic. She’d actually landed the lead in the film version of her all-time favorite play! And not only that, she would be working with the best directors in town! At last, she would get the respect and attention a true artist like herself so richly deserved.
A short time later, Candace was in hair and makeup getting ready for her first scene. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“Wow!” she exclaimed blissfully as people flitted around to get her ready for filming. “I could get used to this!”
The assistant grip appeared with a clipboard and an assortment of other people.
“Miss Candace, here’s your contract . . . and your bagel. This is Antoine, your dialogue coach; Mickey, your swimming stand-in; and your personal trainers, Olga and Chicago Jones.” He held up a little box with two brawny crickets in it.
The smaller one chirped in a high voice, “Drop and give me twenty!”
How . . . exclusive, thought Candace.
It was time to head to the set. When she got there, the producer was waiting.
“Candace, baby, let me introduce you to the directors of this film.” He motioned to a camera crane looming overhead and grinned as it lowered the two filmmakers toward them.
“Hi, Candace,” said one director. His voice sounded familiar. . . .
Slowly, the two directors came into view.
“Phineas and Ferb?!” Candace cried. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re directing the movie,” said Phineas. “Our new agent arranged the whole thing.” He pointed over his shoulder to his faithful friend Isabella, who was busy on her cell phone.
“Look,” Candace could hear her saying, “my client gets three percent of the gross and a piece of the back end or he walks. Yeah. That’s right.” She frowned. “You mess with the bull, you get the horns, buddy. Hello?” She hung up and took another call. “Syd, baby,” she said, smiling, “you got that third act of mine yet?”
“Wait, wait!” wailed Candace. This simply couldn’t be! Desperately, she grabbed the producer by the shoulders. “Don’t you think they’re a little young to be big-budget movie directors?” she asked him.
“With a hundred and seventy-six million hits,” he told her, “they could be in diapers, for all I care.” And with a wink to his new directors, he happily walked away.
Phineas nodded to Ferb. It was time for the moviemaking to begin!
Chapter 3
Later that day, after a trip to wardrobe, Candace found herself in a long blue satin princess gown, high-heeled silver slippers . . . and a huge, green, toothy monster head. In fact, she looked a lot like the puppet Ferb had been playing with in their backyard that morning—only a lot bigger and a little more dressed up.
“Phineas,”
she said, “I don’t remember any monsters in The Princess Sensibilities.”
“We just finished the rewrites this morning,” he explained.
He held up the script, and she looked at the cover—the title had been crossed out and changed completely.
“The Curse of the Princess Monster?” Candace hollered. “That is not what I signed up for! Besides, I can’t wear this!” she went on, yanking off the monster head. “No one will see my face!”
“Yes,” said the producer, walking up behind her, “but in the end the curse is lifted, and in your big dramatic scene, you will look stunning! This film could make you . . . a star!”
“Really?” Candace reconsidered. She could almost see the limousines, long red carpets, and flashing lights of paparazzi in her future. She could almost feel the wet cement as she left her handprints in the Hollywood Walk of Fame. She could see her name in lights and on the covers of all the magazines.
“A . . . a . . . star?” She sighed.
That was all he had to say.
“Hey, ugly monster,” came a voice from outside the wardrobe trailer. “You’re needed on the set!”
“I’m coming!” she sang.
And after a few tries, Candace got her fat, scaly head through the doorway. She was ready to begin her movie-star career!
On the other side of town, Perry—aka Agent P—had arrived at the new official headquarters of Doofenshmirtz Evil, Incorporated. Boldly, he crashed through the door, laser gun in hand, ready to foil whatever dastardly plot the evil genius was set to hatch.
“Perry the Platypus!” cried Dr. Doofenshmirtz. “Why do you keep breaking down my doors?” He got up from the easy chair where he’d been sitting quietly reading. “Why don’t you knock first? It’s not even locked!”
He looked around at the door and angrily surveyed the damage. “This time . . . you’ll pay!” he sneered bitterly.
Perry froze. Then he shrugged and reached for his wallet.
“That’s right,” Dr. D. demanded. “Fork it over.”
Dr. Doofenshmirtz took the bills Perry held out and counted them carefully. “What? Are you kidding me?” he asked, holding up Perry’s cash. He pointed at the splinters of door scattered all over the floor. “That’s not just drywall, you know. It’s solid oak!”
Reluctantly, Perry dug out a few more bills, and the villain quickly grabbed them. “That’s more like it. You can’t just go busting into people’s houses for no reason, you know,” he scolded. “Besides,” he added, “I’ve given up evil to pursue the art of cheesemaking!”
Perry looked at the book Dr. D. had been reading before he was interrupted: The Art of Cheese.
Grinning, Dr. Doofenshmirtz directed Perry’s attention to the other side of his office, where a pedestal displayed a giant wheel of extremely odorous cheese. “Do you like stinky Limburger?” he asked Perry. “It’s a Doofenshmirtz family recipe!” His eyes were wide with craving and pride.
“It’s not ready yet,” he explained. “It still has to age for fifty-eight and a half years.” He looked at his watch. “But—who’s got that kind of time? Which is why,” he went on, a shifty gleam in his eyes, “I created the Age-Accelerator . . . inator!”
With that, he pulled open a curtain to reveal his newest, most ingenious machine.
Chapter 4
Back at the movie set, the filming of The Curse of the Princess Monster was well under way.
“Okay, Candace,” Phineas called from his director’s chair, “this is a very important scene. It is nothing less than the emotional backbone of the whole film. Oh . . . and the villagers are coming at you with everything they’ve got.”
Ferb clapped the film board, and the camera began to roll.
Candace peered through her monster head at the tiny city set around her. It looked a lot like the city she’d stomped through that morning in her own backyard.
“Uh, what do you mean, the villagers—” she began to ask.
“Action!” Phineas cried, and a battery of cardboard missiles came shooting at her from off-set.
Candace tried in vain to swat the weapons away.
Next, Phineas shouted, “The air force!” At that, Ferb began firing toy plane after toy plane through the air at her.
“Ugh! Oh! Oh! Hey! Wait!” Candace hollered. This was no “emotional” scene. She waved for her brothers to stop the tape, but it was no use.
“The space armada from the planet Plumbing Supplies!” Phineas ordered. Down from the rafters fell a claw-footed bathtub, a bunch of lead pipes, some sinks, and a toilet bowl.
“Oof!” Candace grunted as the barrage knocked her to the floor. “Ohhh . . .” That hurt.
“Beautiful!” declared Phineas. “That’s a print!”
Candace tried to stay calm. She was in pain and hated the scene, but at least it was over.
Phineas started to move on to the next scene when one of the Fireside Girl crew members whispered something in his ear.
“Oh.” He winced. “That’s a little embarrassing.” Phineas chuckled as he took the lens cap off the camera. They’d have to film the whole thing all over again!
He picked up his megaphone. “Okay, people,” he called out as Candace fumed. “Nice rehearsal. Let’s take it from the top!”
The next scene had to be easier. Candace was sure of it.
“Wow,” she said as Phineas replaced her monster head with a fancy new headpiece. “Is this banana hat for some cool tropical dance number?”
“We’re trying to come up with some exciting camera angles for the big chase scene,” Phineas explained. Then he pointed offstage to a ravenous-looking primate wearing its own fancy hat. “So we strapped a camera on this starving monkey.”
Candace stared at the hungry animal and glanced at the bananas on her head. Then she ran, screaming, as the monkey chased her off the set.
“Get away! Get away! Get away!” she screeched as she raced away from the beast. After a few minutes, Phineas called off the monkey. Candace stopped and tried to catch her breath.
When the monkey was finally subdued, Phineas chuckled apologetically. “That monkey-cam didn’t work out,” he said. “We’re going to try it with Ferb this time.” He nodded to Ferb, who was wearing the camera on his head.
“Now,” he told Candace as he placed a foot-long ham-and-cheese sandwich in her hands, “take this sandwich and remember, Ferb hasn’t eaten lunch yet.”
Candace’s face froze in fear.
“Hold on tight,” Phineas urged.
Ferb began to charge, and Candace ran for her life.
* * *
A little later, Candace was almost glad when she was told to put the monster head back on . . . but not for very long.
“Okay, in this scene the monster—that’s you,” Phineas said, pointing to Candace, “gets attacked by eight hundred cubic feet of rats, spiders, and snakes!”
Candace looked with disbelief at the three huge crates of vermin poised precariously above her.
“There is no way I’m doing that!” she declared, whipping off her monster head.
“Relax,” said Phineas. He held up one of the snakes and jiggled it in his hand. “They’re made out of rubber.”
“Aahh.” Candace sighed. Thank goodness, she thought. With Phineas, you never knew!
She put her monster head back on and took her mark in the middle of the miniature city.
Suddenly, she screamed as tons of very real rats and spiders suddenly engulfed her.
“Well, the snakes are rubber, anyway,” Phineas said with a snicker.
It was time for the big glamour scene. The monster head was gone, and Candace’s hair and makeup were done perfectly. All she had to do was lie in a real bed, like a real princess, and say the lines she’d always loved.
But Candace should probably have known better than to expect things to go the way she’d hoped.
“Okay, Candace, this is your beauty shot,” Phineas reminded her, and she smiled. “The curse has been lifted
and you’re no longer a monster. Now, this scene is all about what the heart wants, but the mind can’t have.” He clapped the film board and nodded. “Take one.”
“To dream,” began Candace, throwing her hands up dramatically into the air. “To be free of the curse!”
“Beautiful!” Phineas called. “Keep going! Cue the magical girlie dust!” he shouted into his megaphone.
Above the set, Ferb tipped over a box full of glitter. The sparkles began to fall down onto Candace’s head. At first, they drifted down gently.
“Whether ’tis nobler to be loved,” said Candace, enjoying the sparkly effect. Then, suddenly, the whole box came crashing down on her head. “Aaah-choo!” She sneezed.
“Cue wind machine!” Phineas cried.
Ferb lifted a giant lever, and a jet turbine engine was instantly turned on. It swept away every speck of dust—and Candace, practically, too.
“To be . . . cursed . . . by love . . .” she gasped, clinging to the headboard of her bed with all her might to keep from being blown away. “Phineas!” she screamed finally, “make it stop!”
“Cut the wind machine!” he hollered.
Ferb lowered the lever and the gale-force winds stopped. Candace fell to the mattress with an “Oof!” But the scene wasn’t over.
“Okay . . .” Phineas went on, as the camera kept rolling, “. . . drop the flower petals!”
“Whether ’tis nobler—” Candace muttered weakly. But before she could finish her lines, a load of plumbing supplies came crashing down from above.
Phineas looked up at Ferb. A full box labeled FLOWER PETALS sat on the rafter next to him. “Wrong prop!” Phineas observed. “What the heck? Let’s keep it! Okay, people. That’s a wrap!”
