I own nothing. Duh.
Our dad thought that this town was a bad influence on us. So we moved.
Dib would try to run away every Saturday. To get back to that piece of crap town.
To stop Zim.
We always caught him on the Free-way.
He never gave up.
He kept getting closer and closer to his destination.
Then dad thought up an obedience collar. When ever he got to far from the house it would shock him, the farther away, the more painful the shock.
We would find him passed out, miles away from our house so we put a tracking chip in his arm.
Every time he tried to get to Zim, he would get farther away. His tolerance for pain increasing.
This happened for years.
It was right before our senior year that Dad broke down.
And we moved back.
Back to chaos.
Back to adventure.
Back to crazy.
Back to Zim.