How dreadfully boring, the figure thought to himself. He sat slumped in his chair, feet propped upon the large desk in front of him. His crimson, glazed-over eyes stared blankly at the colossal screen upon the wall and at the news that scrolled by on it. Good God; his home planet seemed to grow more dreadfully boring in terms of news with each passing day. Still, it was better than this planet. This place was just... brainless. It was a wonder that the residents could even form coherent speech.
Well, some of them.
He supposed he wasn't going to get any corespondence from his leaders today. He'd called them nearly a dozen times, and yet all that greeted him on the other end of the line was a voicemail message. Alas, as rulers of an entire planet and race, they were surely busy. Still, though, they needn't keep him waiting. With a silent grunt, he stretched his arms and legs. No use just sitting around all day: he had a planet to conquer.
Sitting up, he tapped a key on the massive keyboard and the television changed from a news feed to a screensaver. The figure stood up and stretched his limbs again, wondering what he should try today. Should he? He'd tried at least four attempts at world domination this week already. Perhaps he needed a break; he was only one person, after all.
The sound of things crashing brought him out of his daze, his eyes lazily moving to his side. Great. Just when he thought he'd gotten some peace and quiet-
"Heeeeello!" an impossibly high voice chirped, and a small robotic head popped out from a pile of various unused metallic parts and pieces.
The figure deadpanned, "What."
The small android promptly faceplanted on the ground and used its legs to push itself over to the person, not bothering to stand up. Once it had, it lifted its head, its cyan eyes glowing. "What'cha dooooooing?"
"World domination. Same as usual."
"What'cha gonna do today?"
"I haven't figured that part out yet."
The robot seemed to enter a state of deep concentration. It almost seemed painful. After a moment, it perked up again and chirped, "We can always make WAFFLES!"
Its master stared at it incredulously for a solid moment before replying with a firm, "No." Folding his hands behind his back, he walked past it. "Come oooooon," the robot whined, hugging the alien's leg. "It's waffles! With syrup! AND NUTS!" "GIR, I am not making you waffles."
It began to wail. He flinched and stopped walking, then shot an annoyed glare at the screeching android and sighed shortly. "GIR."
More wailing.
"GIR?"
It flailed its limbs in retort, the screeches growing in volume.
"WILL YOU SILENCE YOURSELF IF I GO BUY YOU WAFFLES?!"
The bot immediately ceased its tantrum and smiled up at its master. "Yes! Thank you, Master Zim!" It cuddled his leg. "You're the best person ever!"
He lifted his leg mutely, GIR still attached to it, and shook it furiously until the robot let go and flopped down to the metallic floor with a clunk. "Do not touch me."
"Hi, floor!"
The alien lowered his leg and sighed again, continuing to walk. Great. Now any possible plans for domination would be ruined because of his stupid minion. And his stupid waffles. He could hear the droid following after him like a puppy, its small metal feet clanking against the flooring. Its master winced with each noise; it was equivalent to nails on a blackboard, which reluctantly, he'd grown quite familiar with. Thankfully today was a Saturday, and there would be none of that dreaded "Skool" he despised so thoroughly.
Exiting the lab with GIR on his heels, he stood in the kitchen and brushed his uniform off absently. Two robotic, jagged tendrils emerged from a small, ovular metallic shell attached to his back. One held a black wig, the other a small red box. The young man took both items and stuck the wig atop his head as the legs retracted, adjusting and fluffing it thusly. He then opened the small box, which contained contacts, and popped the two objects into his eyes, blinking a few times afterwards. Honestly, the things he went through to blend in with the humans. It took away from his already perfect good looks.
"I won't be long, GIR," he stated, hands behind his back yet again as he walked into the living room. "Keep an eye out for the Dib thing while I'm gone."
"But!"
Zim looked over his shoulder at his minion and raised a brow. "I wanna go buy waffles with you!"
"No."
It inhaled, as if it were about to wail again. Swiftly holding his hands to his ears, he yelped, "Alright, alright! Just hurry up!"
GIR squealed happily and the top of its head lifted back as if on a hinge. It reached around inside until it pulled out a wrinkled, bright green wad of... something. It closed its head and began pulling on the something, which turned out to be a haphazardly made, cartoony dog suit with bulged eyes and a stuck out tongue. It zipped up the zipper on its front and looked at its master, the features on the suit stretching into a deformed smile.
"Well, come on!" he snapped, and held the door open impatiently. The bot toddered out, humming an off-beat tune happily as it did so. Zim sighed and closed the door, making sure it was thoroughly locked before continuing into the yard and onto the sidewalk. GIR continued to hum, rocking back and forth on its heels. Its master headed down the sidewalk, and it happily skipped after him.
Zim stared in obvious disgust at the people he passed. Some were small children playing in their yards with mundane toys, others adults simply sitting and in a bit of a daze. Some gangly teenagers mingled on the sidewalks, their eyes sunken and clothes over-sized. They smelt of smoke and excrement, and he held a gloved hand to his nose whenever he passed them. Some of the humans seemed more like animals than a coherent race most of the time, he mused, if not all of them.
GIR seemed oblivious - as it always was - as it swung its arms and continued humming its happy melody. At least it wasn't singing, Zim thought. Whenever the thing sung, he felt as if his insides would rupture.
At last they reached the rather dreary-looking grocery store, which they entered. People walked about, slumped against the carts they pushed whilst cashiers mindlessly scanned items, their eyes seeming distant and deadlike.
"Okay, GIR," Zim spoke with a short sigh. "Where are your stupid waffles so we can go home?"
"Thataway!" it chirped, pointing to the eastern section of the store and skipping that way. Its master grumbled, his arms folded as he followed after it and giving menacing sneers to any humans they passed. Nobody seemed to notice or register his looks, however. He found GIR in front of a frozen food case, literally jumping up and down and pointing. "In there! They're in there!" It pressed its face against the glass window. "Don't worry, waffles! I'LL SAVE YOUUUU!"
Zim shoved the robot away from the case with his boot and opened it, shivering from the sudden wave of cold. "Which one?"
"All of them! We gotta break all of 'em out!"
He eyed the shelf up and down; there must have been dozens of brands. Sighing, he said, "GIR, I'm not buying all these waffles."
"But they're gonna die!"
"How on Irk are you going to eat all of these?! You don't need that many waffles! I'm not going to eat them!"
"But you gotta! Or they'll die!"
"They're waffles, GIR. Waffles. Stupid, lower-life, inaminate, earthen, pointless waffles. They could be poison, for all you know."
"BUT THEY'RE GONNA DIE!"
"I DON'T CARE, GIR!" he screamed, the stares of nearby shoppers seeming to go over his head. "I'M BUYING YOU ONE BOX! ONE!"
"NOOOOOO!"
Grumbling angrily under his breath and trying to ignore the robot's screams, he snatched a box at random off the shelf and closed the door, holding it out to the droid. "Here. Take it."
"BUT THE OTHERS! YOU'RE GONNA KILL 'EM!"
"WOULD YOU CEASE YOUR INCESSANT SREECHING?! THE HUMANS WILL GET SUSPICIOUS!"
"YOU'RE A WAFFLE KILLER!"
"GIR, SILENCE YOURSELF AT ONCE!" "YOU'RE MEAN!"
"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE?"
"MEANMEANMEANMEANMEANMEANMEAN!"
"TAKE YOUR STUPID WAFFLES AND LET'S GO HOME BEFORE THE COP HUMANS SHOW UP!"
"NO!"
"GIR!"
"Words cannot begin to describe the amount of deep, endless loathing I have for you."
Zim and GIR walked down the sidewalk, people moving so that they would have room to pass. Their arms were lined with grocery bags, then held even more piled atop one another. The alien grumbled and struggled to see over the top of one. Instead of replying to its master's outburst, GIR continued its quiet humming, occasionally singing "Waffles~" at random. "These things will expire before you can even cook them all, you know," he grumbled.
"I'mma cook aaaaall of them!" the bot chirped.
"In one sitting?!"
"Yep!"
"GIR, you can't eat that many waffles!"
"I sure can! I gotta save 'em from death!"
"...wait, how do you even eat?"
"With my food hole, silly pants!"
"Obviously," he snorted. "I meant... I mean, you're a robot! You don't have a squeedly spooch to digest nutrients!"
"But I'm a maaaagical robot."
"Pardon."
"I have magical powers, and that's how I eat!" Zim opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly closed it. He would get nowhere but a road to insanity if he tried to carry a conversation with this thing.
The people and environments hadn't seemed to change in the slightest since they'd left the home, and the house was deserted as they neared the yard. Zim walked up to the door with a grunt and spoke, "Voice recognition: Invader Zim! Op-"
"ZIM!"
The alien's shoulders slumped and he cursed in Irken under his breath. "I don't feel like dealing with you today!"
"What are you doing?!" the voice demanded, and he could hear the laser of one of his lawn gnomes going off, followed by a yelp. "Get off my lawn!"
"What are you doing with all those waffles, hmm, Zim?" Something poked him from behind, and he tensed up. "Making some sort of diabolical waffle gun?"
"Touch me again and I will remove your esophagus via your rectum," Zim deadpanned, sprouting his metallic tendrils and not turning around. Footsteps, then the voice spoke again, but from farther away, "I know you're up to something! Someone normal doesn't buy that many waffles!"
"If it will silence your idiotic ramblings, they're for my robot!" he snapped.
"Are you going to use the waffles to somehow supercharge him and make a machine of ultimate destruction? I KNEW IT!"
"No, they - that isn't a bad idea, actually." Shaking his head, he continued, "No, he's just hungry! Now go away!"
"A failed attempt at an alibi, Zim!" the declared. "Robots can't eat!"
"He can, apparently."
"I'm maaaaaagic," GIR agreed. "I don't know exactly what you're up to Zim, but I've got my eye on you. Whatever you do, wherever you go-"
"Open."
"-I'm watching. I may be the only one that knows your true nature, Zim, but I will do everything in my power to make sure you don't take this pla- where are you going?"
The door closed and Zim deposited the bags onto the couch nearby with a groan of relief. Holding a hand to his neck, he cracked it a couple of times and glanced out the window. A teenage boy in a trench coat and spiked black hair was talking and flailing his arms, but Zim turned away and pulled his wig off, the antennae upon his cranium shooting up. The yells from outside grew louder. Removing his contacts, he ordered, "GIR, turn on the TV. It'll drown out that imbecile's chatter."
The robot, dog suit half off, saluted and ran to the television, turning it on. It then went back to the bags on the couch and pulled out an armful of boxes of frozen waffles, toddering to the kitchen. Zim placed the disguse's items back in his metallic backpack and sat down on the only part of the couch that wasn't occupied by grocery bags. Red lights flashed outside his window, presumably that of the gnomes shooting the Dib human with lasers.
He sighed and rubbed his temples, the smell of waffles cooking already wafting through the air. Not exactly the day he'd envisioned.