(A/N) Is it possible anyone out there still thinks this might be zdder? Even between the lines? Nobody? Good. That's exactly how I like it.
I don't own Invader Zim and as far as I know there is no mistletoe in Korea.
Mistletoe
Splat.
"That was a good one!"
Even without the barely stifled bursts of snickering around Chunk, Dib could still have figured out exactly who was sending the spitballs at him. Without easing his surveillance on Zim, Dib wiped the blob of paper off his cheek.
Technology didn't outpace just morality; in this case it far outran simple intelligence.
"I'll get his glasses this time!"
"Bet you can't!"
"Bet I can."
"Bet a dollar you can't."
"You're on! Oh NO, he's lookin' away! Selfish jerk."
Finally tired of being a target, Dib had turned his back to the rest of the classroom. He knew by now that he didn't even have to watch Zim all that closely when they were in the classroom. The second Zim got one of his evil ideas he would laugh out loud and then try to cover it up with, "I am normal."
Dib watched an empty potato chip bag blowing across the parking lot as Ms. Bitters droned on, as negative as she ever was. "Listen up, you doomed children. Do you know what mistletoe is? Mistletoe is a parasite. Do you know what parasites are? No, I didn't think so. It's when your relatives lose their jobs in the recession, can't keep up the payments on their houses or cars, and have to move in with you.
"Mistletoe grows on trees, usually oak trees. It's a parasite, so if you remove it from the tree, it's doomed. If too much mistletoe is growing in the tree, the tree is also doomed... and when you think about it, then so is the mistletoe.
"Mistletoe is an evergreen, so the ancient Druids thought that meant it was special. Hmmph. It's nothing but simple basic botany. Those doomed pagans used it in their doomed pagan ceremonies.
"In fact, they actually thought it was downright sacred! What sheer, utter hogwash. In fact, they were so deluded that when two enemies met under a tree with mistletoe in it, they would put down their weapons, exchange civilized formalities, and not try to kill each other any more... until the next day. If you ask me, they should have fought then and there and gotten it over with.
"Fast forward a couple of hundred years or so to the Roman Empire. At the start of winter the Romans had a holiday and they used to mess up their houses dragging in all kinds of trees and plants like we do today. They were only too happy to borrow the mistletoe custom from the Druids, but only because they saw a chance to add kissing," she sneered, "which led to those all depraved, disgusting orgies you won't learn about until you're much older.
"After the Roman Empire fell, as it was doomed to do, we find mistletoe somewhere else. One of the Viking gods was called Balder and he was believed to be less ugly than the rest of them. You'd think if he was balder than everyone else he'd be more ugly."
Having already read much of this, Dib knew was coming next. He was mildly interested in seeing what Ms. Bitters was going to do with it, but he could have gladly done without the petty spite of the class. Amazing how things change over time, he thought. Mistletoe was revered in ancient times, more recently reviled, and then revived and revered (well, sort of) once more. You can research the background of the most ordinary item and find so much more to it than meets the eye.
"All the Norse gods really liked Balder, but he had these paranoid nightmares about someone being 'out to get him,' so the gods made everyone and everything swear not to hurt Balder. They didn't bother to make mistletoe swear, because it was too shriveled and weak to hurt anyone.
"Or so they thought." Here Ms. Bitters began to sound happy. "Loki, the god of evil, made a dart out of the mistletoe and tricked a blind man into shooting it at Balder, who fell dead of course, just like he knew he would. This means we're all doomed and there's nothing we can do about it."
No, it doesn't. It means that we must never let our guard... Raising one eyebrow, Dib turned back to frown at Ms. Bitters, and a spitball promptly splattered against his glasses. ... down.
As Dib wiped his glasses and Chunk did a sly fist pump, Ms. Bitters continued, "I mentioned three people, the Druids, the Romans, and the Vikings. What did they all have in common? They were all doomed... and we use mistletoe at Christmas so we're doomed too!"
Ms. Bitters went to reach into her desk, but paused as she remembered something. "Oh, by the way, you're doomed to have a test on that tomorrow." She swept a glare across the room, then returned to rummaging in her desk.
Putting his glasses on again, Dib could see Chunk preparing another attack just as the bell rang to end the school day. Any bets were off; everyone immediately began preparing to go home, everyone except Dib.
At least Chunk is good for something, he thought grimly. This had given him a great idea for a weapon, well, more of a distraction really, to use against Zim. It wasn't exactly deadly, but to someone whose skin burned when hit by water, it could be demoralizing when used properly. Paper, spit, and the tube of a pen were all he needed for the perfect attack.
He tore the corner off a page of his notebook and as he began to chew it, pulled his pen apart.
Paper never tasted so good.
He turned to check on what Zim was doing. The alien seemed to be collecting his stuff more hastily than usual, which meant he surely had an idea for an evil plan and was in a hurry to get home to start work on it. Well, a few splats from this would give him an idea of what awaited him tomorrow, and after a tense night he'd show up at skool half way to defeat already! Dib allowed himself a confident grin.
He slipped forward to get closer to Zim, seeking both closer range and harder impact. His teeth pressed a pellet together, and with his tongue he loaded the pen tube, then he leaned against the nearest desk to steady his aim.
As he did so, however, something overhead caught the top of his eye, something on the ceiling that was not there yesterday and which he had not noticed when the class came back after lunch that day to find the classroom decorated by a person or persons unknown. All they were certain of was that it couldn't have been Ms. Bitters; her Christmas decorations would surely be more akin to the Nightmare Before Christmas. They eventually decided it was a goodwill gesture from Mr. Elliot, who had yet to notice that nothing ever lifted Ms. Bitters's perpetually sour mood.
Dib now noticed that among the Christmas decorations, along with the paper chains and snowflakes, the stars and Santa Claus cutouts, the unknown benefactor had managed to tape a sprig of mistletoe to the edge of the central light fixture that ran from the middle of the room to the front.
It wasn't a very good mistletoe; possibly it wasn't even mistletoe at all. However, with its faded green leaves and greyish white berries, it was definitely meant as some sort of stand-in for mistletoe, technically placing the classroom, or at least the front of it, under its domain.
Dib looked at Zim again, shifting the weapon uncertainly in his hand. Previously he'd had no qualms whatsoever about using much worse weapons against Zim, but somehow, under the mistletoe, so close to Christmas, and immediately after hearing the history of the mistletoe, it seemed, well, it seemed... wrong somehow.
Dib set down his pen on the floor, spitting the tiny spot of paper next to it, then nodded once in Zim's direction. "Good day to you, Zim."
Zim whipped around and saw his arch enemy standing not three feet away.
"Of course it must be a good day... when ZIM is in it!"
Usually when Dib was this close to Zim, it was with the intent of spying on him or taunting him, but when Dib did nothing, Zim began to gloat, "So! You have come to give up the planet to ZIM! Victory for ZIM!" When no surrender was forthcoming, Zim started to wonder aloud, "Is this a trick? This is a trick! It must be a trick! Zim knows it's a trick! Foolish human! You cannot trick ZIM!"
"Mistletoe. Up there." Dib's eyes flickered upwards.
"Nothing is wrong in Zim's toe! And Zim's toe isn't up anywhere; it's on Zim's foot down on the floor! Inferior, stupid human!"
Clearly Zim hadn't been listening to a word Ms. Bitters had said. He must have been working out that evil plan of his the entire time.
Now Zim began looking around, probably trying to figure out what the Dib human was up to, but Dib was of course holding no weapon. If he even noticed the pen tube, he didn't seem to recognize that it could serve as one.
Finally Zim leaped on his desk, threw back his head and laughed as mightily as if he had lobbed a nuclear grenade and blown the human to kingdom come. "Zim will see you tomorrow morning as soon as you set your filthy inferior earth feet on the playground!" he raved, pointing at Dib a claw shaking with fury. "Prepare your inferior self to face the fury and the might of ZIM! Prepare to meet your horrible DOOOOOOOM!!" The final word was a skyward shriek followed by demented laughter.
Dib nodded, satisfied that they had both honored the mistletoe ritual. That was as close as Zim ever got to, "See you tomorrow."
The End
(A/N) Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Sung Tan Chuk Ha, or even just a good old Bah Humbug.