holiday cheer

It was a fairly quiet winter's night in the Membrane household. The Professor was nowhere in sight, probably off at work; Gaz was busy with her Gameslave II; Dib sat upstairs in his room, doing nothing in particular. He sat on his bed with a horror novel in his lap, but his interest was obviously someplace else entirely.

Christmas vacation had started only a few days prior to this snowy winter's eve, and nothing had happened at the house next door since Skool had let out. Now, under normal circumstances, this would be nothing to worry about. However, ZIM dwelled next door, and there had been no sign of a laser weapon or demon weasils for days on end. Something was quite obviously wrong.

So, Dib sat pondering possible reasons for the unexpected lull in activity. There was always the possibility that ZIM had finally given up conquering the Earth, but it was so remote that he didn't even consider it. And if ZIM'd been working on some "super-secret" hi-tech type weapon, there was no doubt that he would have heard of it by now.

Dib racked his memory for any sign of suspicion (other than the usual) that had occurred those last couple of days at Skool before the wonderful release, and Ms Bitters' typical holiday farewell of "I hope you all get rats in your stockings!" or something like that. Dib couldn't quite remember, it was getting extremely late.

He sighed and tried to bury himself in the book and the old, taped episodes of Mysterious Mysteries that were constantly running in the background. It worked for a few minutes – the tired mind flocks willingly to any distraction from the impending sleep. Unfortunately, the paranormal instances investigated by the MM host served only to bring Dib's mind back to ZIM.

He got up with a start and paced across the room, to the window. He threw open the shutters to watch the house, but there was no unusual activity at all. In fact, things were as quiet as you'd normally expect from a house at 2:17 AM.

Irkens, however, never sleep. And this made Dib wonder.

He stared at the house for awhile, hoping to find at least a rustle of a curtain, SOMETHING that would show even a breath of activity inside the house. He waited, waited, waited, and watched. There was nothing, however, other than the snowflakes falling gently to the ground and catching on the not-quite-yet-covered grass.

Dib closed the window and fed his lizard. His eyelids were heavy, and he knew someplace in the back of his mind that he needed to sleep. His body was beginning to give way – willpower is only so strong, especially when you'd been up for three and a half days in advance. He realized that the lizard was becoming buried under all the food he was putting into the terrarium, and put the box back up on the shelf.

The lizard's green head poked out from under the flakes or pellets or whatever they make lizard food out of, and stared, unblinkingly, at it's owner.

Dib squinted one eye, cocked his head to the side, and peered back at the lizard. It was green, undeniably, with huge yellow eyes.

Green.

EVERYTHING came back to ZIM.

…everything.

He sat back down on the bed and put his head down on his knees.

Everything came back to ZIM.

---

"This 'holiday' thing confuses ZIM."

The Irken Invader was seated in a swivelly chair amongst countless pop-up computer screens, all filled with Christmas research. The room was dark, and the light they emitted was eerie.

"It makes no sense to me, GIR. Why would humans celebrate something as unimportant as the birth of a smeet?"

He turned to his robot companion, who was banging its head against the wall and repeatedly screaming "BEES! BEES! BEES!" ZIM turned back to the screens and sighed. Three and a half days of research had gotten him nowhere. He still knew nothing, really, about this whole 'Christmas' thing – or nothing worthwhile. The stink-humans piled wrapped parcels under a dead tree and opened them. There was no such thing on IRK. IRK, after all, was not really much of a planet of celebration.

He rose from the chair and began to pace around the room. It was obvious by the fact that Skool had let out for a week or so due to this… this THING… that it was important to humans, and so if he wished to blend in, he would have to participate.

"GIR," he said to the robot, who had ceased banging his head and was following ZIM around the room, "If I were to give you a… a GIFT, what would you want?"

"Whazzat?" GIR said in a high-pitched squeak that sort of resembled cluelessness.

"A gift is when… when… if ZIM were to give you something for no reason at all."

"GIFT! I LIKE GIFT!"

"According to my research… it appears that worm-humans do as well. But to give a gift?! Such would be an unacceptable act for an INVADER of my prestige!"

ZIM drew himself up to his full height of around 3 feet, in mock bravado. He then slunched back over.

"I should consult my Almighty Tallest on this situation. They would know what to do."

"TALLEST!" GIR squeaked, running over to punch the large red button on the wall.

"WAIT! NO, GIR!"

The robot pulled to a halt and started banging its head against the wall again.

ZIM restarted his pacing. "If I were to tell the Tallest, then the Tallest would think ZIM was not worthy of invading the Earth! They would think I was incapable of coming up with such an ingenious plan on my own!"

He sat back down at the computer screen. "How would I go about obtaining a 'gift'?"

"I LIKE GIFT!" GIR squealed.

ZIM shook his head and proceeded to locate the nearest gift on his computer.

"WHAAAAAAT?! THERE ARE TOO MANY GIFTS! What to do, what to do?"

"If only I knew!"

Then a lightbulb illuminated in ZIM's head. "Dibsister went to a place called a 'Mall' to buy a Gameslave, correct?"

GIR nodded rapidly, and it appeared that his head would fall off if he nodded much more.

"Perhaps if I went to this 'mall' place, I could find a gift."

"YAAAAAAAAAY!!!"

ZIM walked into the endless darkness of the next room, and emerged in the kitchen, fully disguised. Or, as disguised as he was going to get.

"I will find a gift!"

---

author's notes:

this is totally different from anything I have ever written before. Ever. And it's kind of fun to write, even if it's not really up to any quality. Oh well. ^^;

just like every other damned fic on this site, the ZIM characters are © to jhonen vasquez, the spiky-haired master of the doombees. All I own is the insane idea for this thing… yeah.

Reviews always appreciated… [hint, hint]