I call this spamficish because I wrote this in a very short time 
and hardly looked over it, and now I don't feel like writing any more 
of it and probably never will.  If anybody wants to continue it, for 
some weird reason, go ahead.  Feel free to dispense with the frame 
story or anything else, too. (If you know what this is a crossover 
with, you are _weird._) 

Someone else own the rights to Ranma 1/2, and I am using the 
characters without their permission.  

 Ranma Gets Fat


     "Yeah, Doctor Plotkin," said Ranma, idly chewing on a
roll.  "Just a week ago, I swear."
     "Just call me Doc, boyo," Alan Plotkin said.  "Makes
things easier."  Dr. Plotkin adjusted his glasses and
stretched his massive bulk out on his lounge chair.  "So
what happened?"
     "Well, I don't know," Ranma said.  "That's why I'm
here, kind of."
     "Oh, so you figured I was the doctor to come to with
this sort of problem?"
     "Actually, Dr. Tofu referred me," Ranma said.
     "Ono Tofu?  Skinny little man?"
     "Yeah.  He's a nice guy, good doctor."
     "Fine.  So what'd you do when you first noticed?"
     "I went to see Dr. Tofu."

      Dr. Tofu stared at the scale for a second,  adjusted
his glasses, shook his head, and stared again.  Finally he
turned to the young man standing next to him.  "500 pounds,
Ranma," he said.  "You have gained 500 pounds since your
last treatment here, which was, uh, two days ago."
     "Right.  Last time Ryouga showed up."  Ranma shuddered,
all seven of his chins bobbling.  "What could have happened,
doc?"
     "My guess is that someone hit your Shiatsu fat point,"
the Doctor said.  "Or maybe too much of Kasumi's cooking,
huh?"  When Tofu hadn't stopped giggling at his own remark
three minutes later, Ranma decided it was time to leave.
     "I just don't get it," he told Akane on the way back to
the Dojo.  "I mean, who could possibly have wanted me to be
fat?  How cruel can you get?"
     "Well, let's not worry about that," Akane said.  "The
real question is how you're going to lose all that weight."
     "Why?  I mean, what's the point if it's a pressure
point?  We have to find the counter-point or something."
     "Oh, come on," Akane said.  "I'm not marrying you if
you look like that."
     "You weren't going to marry me anyway," Ranma reminded
her.
     "That's not the point," Akane said.  "Look, I guess we
could try a diet or something.  It's not like you don't
exercise enough as it is, so you'll just have to eat less."
     "Eat less?"  Ranma sounded unsure.  "Maybe Cologne will
have some ideas."
     "Oh, sure, go to your Amazon hussy whenever you have a
problem," Akane said.  "You are such a jerk!"  She swung her
fist in a mighty arc, intending to knock him halfway to
America.  Her hand just sort of lodged in his stomach,
though, as if Ranma were a giant ball of dough.  She stared
at it, blinking, for a full second before withdrawing her
hand and shaking it violently.
     Ranma sighed despondently and waddled towards the
Nekohanten.

     "So, who is this Akane girl?"
     "Oh, she's just this girl," Ranma said quickly.  "My
father and hers think we should get married."
     "Ah."
     "I mean, that's not gonna happen, though."  Ranma
paused for a second.  "She's a real tomboy, you know," he
added slyly.
     Dr. Plotkin made a note on his pad.
     "Say, how long you been in Japan, Doc?" Ranma said.
"You speak real good."
     "I pride myself on my language ability," Plotkin said.
"I've been here a couple of months, though. Nice country,
even if the cuisine is kind of one track."
     "Yeah.  Say, could you pass me another one of those
rice balls?"
     "Certainly.  Now, tell me about Cologne."

     The Nekohanten was doing brisk business that afternoon,
and Ranma had to shout repeatedly to get Cologne to come out
and pay attention to him.  "Listen, old ghoul, I got a
problem," he began.
     "I can see that, son-in-law," the amazon elder said,
her eyes narrowed.  "Come into the kitchen and we can talk
about it."
     A broom briskly brushed across the kitchen floor, its
bristles breaking up the seemingly randomly placed piles of
dust which laid scattered all around.  Mousse was at the
other end; his ears perked when he heard Cologne enter,
followed by a very fat man whose gait he did not recognize.
     "So come on, ghoul, what's going on?" Ranma demanded.
     "Ranma?" Mousse exclaimed, madly trying to focus his
gaze on the blob before him.
     "What do you want, Mousse?"
     "Quiet, idiots!" Cologne said, bopping both boys with
her cane.  "Son in law, what do you know about this?"
     "Dr. Tofu said someone had hit my shiatsu fat spot."
     "Probably true," Cologne said.  "And of course, with
all that fat in the way, there's no way to hit the counter
point."
     "So what do I do?"
     "Give me a few days to look in my books," Cologne said.
"I must admit, I had never expected you to have this
particular problem."
     Shampoo chose that moment to walk into the kitchen,
bearing twelve empty bowls and several cups.  Each one fell
to the floor with a crash; Shampoo's jaw fell as well, but
it was attached and didn't go as far.  "Ran.ma?"
     "Hi, Shampoo," Ranma said.
     "Ranma?  You.ugly!"
     "Shampoo!  Now that Saotome has lost his villainous
charm, you shall marry me!"  Mousse declared.
     "Shut up, stupid Mousse!"  Shampoo said, shutting his
mouth with her fist.  "Great-grandmother," she said, an
unusual intensity in her voice, "we fix this, yes?"

     "So you were upset Shampoo no longer wanted you."
     "No!  I mean, yes.  I don't know."
     "Why not?  You said she was good looking."
     "She's my fiancee!  I don't want her to like me."
     "My boy, you are a schmuck."
     "A what?"
     "Don't worry about it.  Any other fiancees I should
know about?"
     "Naw, she doesn't know yet."
     "Right."


Thomas Schmidt
Tschmidt@trader.com