My Favorite Meal

AN: I thought I'd try something different for this one. This one is not going to be funny. I started it a while ago but didn't get around to putting it up because I had to study for Christmas exams. (So I am going to post it before I get started tonight!) Thank you all so much for all the reviews!

I don't own Invader Zim but boy do I wish I did.

As Ms. Bitters put down the chalk and glided back to her desk, Dib looked behind her at the topic she had left on the board. Usually Ms. Bitters gave them composition topics more like, "Describe the influence of the computer chip on modern day transportation in the last half decade." However, today she had a different kind of brain-twister in mind, because the question now on the board read, "What is your favorite meal of the day and why?"

This one was so easy, at first Dib thought it had to be a trick question. There were only three possible answers, and he could rule out lunch right away.

He usually ate lunch at skool, and it was always an unappetizing glop of one or more semi-liquid foods that tasted worse when mixed together. What made matters worse, he forced it down surrounded by classmates who hated him and insulted him every chance they got. Eventually he stopped listening because every single day they all said the same things as everybody else. That first one was the worst, after that they all ran together. Only one classmate knew exactly what to say to get him furious, Zim.

Dib could almost always think up a good answer, and in fact the angrier he got the easier it was to do this, but whenever he shouted his reply back to Zim, Gaz would snap at him to shut up, she couldn't play her game. Dib knew Gaz was perfectly able to play her game in the middle of a thunderstorm, a blackout, or a mecha attack. He was pretty sure she would be able to go right on playing during World War Three. What he didn't know was whether she hated him or loved Zim more. He finally decided that if she loved Zim, she would be sitting with the alien at lunch, so she must hate him more.

Dib now wrote "breakfast" and "dinner" in the margin of his paper and prepared to jot down the pluses and minuses of each. The more he thought about which one of them he liked more, the harder it became to decide. Breakfast was usually ruined by an argument with Gaz over cereal, but even when they had a newly opened box she always found something else to bitch at him for. She had to be the "first in," or there would be hell to pay. If he wanted the last of the milk she would take it, or if he took the last of the milk when she wanted more you would think the world had ended. If he wasn't being too slow for her liking he was being in too much of a hurry. If there was juice she wanted pop and if there was pop she wanted juice, and something as small as this was enough to get her mad. When Gaz was mad it was better not to make her madder. One made her madder by making a sound, any sound.

Dinner wasn't much better, when he thought about it. He usually ate it at home but he seldom tasted it; he could think about was what Zim was up to when he wasn't out there to stop him. Other than that, dinner wasn't much different from, what with Gaz trying to drink all the pop in the house before he got a can. Or at least, most dinners weren't much better.

Dib now noticed several kids going up to Ms. Bitters's desk to turn in their papers. He knew that the last kid to finish an assignment got sent to the Underground Classroom. Hastily he scribbled down, "My favorite meal is MacMeatys hamburgers when my father takes us out to dinner on Family Night. I love my dad." It certainly wasn't up to his usual standard, but at least it would keep him out of the underground classroom for one more day.

He grabbed his paper and making a mad dash, he managed to drop his paper in front of Ms. Bitters just before Zim turned in his.

"HA! Stupid human!" Zim's paper is ON TOP!"

Dib didn't reply this time, but merely chuckled to himself. Let Zim spend the rest of the day in the underground classroom.

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