Chapter 89: What's Your Choice?
Busted.
Ron sighed and shook his head, ready to surrender to the inevitable. He had no choice but to deal with Sheldon for now—after all, Sheldon was the most pampered child in the house by both women. If he ignored him, there would definitely be consequences. Guilt-trippy, naggy consequences.
To be perfectly honest, Ron would rather face ten federal agents wearing Arthur's face than spend three hours alone with Sheldon.
But just as he was steeling himself for that fate, the door creaked open again. A DIY-looking drone, equipped with a basic robotic arm, was shoved into the apartment from outside.
Ron blinked—wait a second. He recognized this thing.
Wasn't this the prototype drone those nerds built for him?
He chuckled. Gotta admit, these geeks are surprisingly handy.
If the drone was here, that could only mean one thing: the professional scapegoat had arrived.
Ron pushed the door open wider to find three stunned science nerds frozen on the doorstep.
Sure enough, Leonard's glasses were broken—again. He squinted for a good ten seconds before realizing who Ron was.
Before Leonard could speak, Ron grabbed him mid-squint, shoved him inside, and slammed the door behind him.
"I'm heading out for dinner. You two want in?" Ron asked the others without missing a beat.
Howard and Raj nodded in perfect unison. No hesitation, no questions—just pure self-preservation instinct.
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Inside the Apartment...
Leonard had barely stumbled through the door before being spotted by Penny, who looked absolutely wrecked after babysitting Sheldon all day.
Leonard gave a sheepish wave. "Hey, Penny~"
"You're the worst," Penny said, shaking her head. "You totally set me up to suffer through Sheldon's flu meltdown alone."
"I had no choice! You saw what he's like when he's sick," Leonard protested.
From the bedroom came the pitiful wail:
"Penny, I'm huuuungry~"
Penny rolled her eyes. "Sweetheart, great news—Leonard's back!"
She then shoved the tube of chest-rub ointment into Leonard's hands before he could react. "Tag, you're it. Good luck. Bye."
"I'm hungry, Leonard~" Sheldon's voice now had a new target.
"Penny, please, take me with you!" Leonard pleaded, following her to the door. But after just a few steps—BONK!—he walked face-first into a pillar.
Wrapped in a blanket like a sickly caterpillar, Sheldon shuffled out.
"I want a grilled cheese sandwich."
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One Hour Later…
Sheldon was happily munching on a badly burned grilled cheese sandwich.
Leonard lay flat on the couch, an oversized ice pack perched on his head, looking like he was reevaluating every life choice that led him here.
But if he could see what Ron was doing right now, he might not feel quite so betrayed.
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Downtown Los Angeles...
Ron and his two nerdy companions had arrived at the Williamsburg Diner, where Max and Caroline happened to work.
"Dude, you mean both your girls know about each other, but pretend they don't?" Raj said, eyes wide with admiration. "That's legendary! How'd you pull that off? I swear on Shiva, if you teach me your ways, I'll work for free on every job you ever give me—no questions asked."
Ron smirked. "Well, to be precise—the bustier one knows. The one with the long legs? She has no idea. Even though she's technically smarter—Wharton Business School grad and all—I think the busty one's actually a bit sharper."
Howard raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Wharton, huh? Meh."
Both nerds shared a dismissive glance.
"I mean, sure, Wharton's not exactly Harvard, but even so... what's a graduate from there doing working in a greasy spoon like this?" Howard scoffed.
This wasn't hard to understand—among American nerds, there was a hierarchy of disdain. Simply put: pure science majors looked down on engineering majors, and everyone looked down on the humanities.
As Sheldon once said, "A liberal arts degree is basically just advanced memorization,"—this, despite the fact that he himself held a Master's in Literature. Classic STEM arrogance.
"There's actually a pretty deep story behind this place," Ron explained. "Let's just say a high-society lady hit some hard times and ended up here temporarily. But I believe in them—their cupcake business is gonna take off sooner or later."
"Guys," Ron cleared his throat. "You're not Sheldon. I shouldn't have to tell you how rude that look on your faces is."
Howard held up his hands. "Relax, we'll be on our best gentleman behavior. But hey—'high society'? Can you convince your girl to introduce us to a few of her friends? I swear, if she gets me within one sheet of a Kardashian, I'll live off her cupcakes for the rest of my life. Happily."
Honestly, Howard really had no shame. His appetite far outpaced his ability.
Trying to get with the Kardashians? That's like a benchwarmer thinking he's ready for the NBA All-Defense team.
Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Buddy… women like the Kardashians only date guys with NBA-caliber equipment. Unless you're willing to get a very special procedure in the Philippines—or crawl through the New York sewers, fuse with four Westbrooks, and win a championship ring—you've got zero shot."
As the three joked around, they'd unknowingly arrived at the restaurant.
Through the front window, they could clearly see two gorgeous women—exactly as Ron had described—slapping each other across the face.
"Ron! You need to see this!" Howard pressed his face against the glass, eyes wide with excitement. "Are they fighting over you? What if they start ripping each other's clothes off?!"
Raj quickly squished up beside him, both of them now glued to the glass like two pervs outside a Victoria's Secret.
Ron just rolled his eyes. "Trust me—my charm might be considerable, but if they were mad at me? The only outcome would be them dumping me and running off together to start a lesbian power couple."
"And then I'd be forced to eat my feelings and go home like you two losers—probably taking a suspiciously long, regret-filled shower."
"Ron, you'd seriously abandon us?" Howard gasped dramatically.
Ron crouched beside them, smirking. "Alright, let me put it this way: on one side, you've got a busty beauty and a leggy goddess. On the other side… an Indian dude with a B-cup. Which way are you leaning?"
"Hey!" Raj looked offended. "They're barely A!"
"I'm obviously choosing the chest babes," Howard declared—while desperately avoiding Raj's betrayed, watery gaze.
"Well, then I hope you two have fun. As for me, I'm going in," Ron said, rising to his feet.
Just then, a tense-looking white guy in a suit and a heavy coat pushed past them and stormed through the restaurant doors.
Ron's eyes narrowed—his years of experience as an agent kicked in instantly.
There's something under that coat.
"Wait here," he told the nerds, blocking them from following.
"What, you ditching us again?" Howard asked.
Ron didn't even look back. "Not ditching. But unless I'm wrong, a robbery's about to go down in there. You two sure you wanna come inside?"
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