It was Friday upon the moldy-looking planet known as Earth. A weekend of freedom awaited the children of the penitentiary-esque Skool-system. Unknowing of the evil, alien invader that would use such time to plot their demise.

"... and so you see, my Tallest. The can, while promising the delicious nutrients of the tempting, salty legumes, is filled with nothing but lies! LIES!" Aforementioned evil, alien invader was currently reporting his current plot to his overlords.
"LIES... and a SPRINGY SNAKE!" Zim exclaimed as he ripped the lid from the can. A cloth-covered spring shot forth from the container and struck the transmission screen with a squeek. Zim could tell by the way his leaders were slouching lazily in their chairs that they were impressed.

The Tallest commonly known by the moniker: Purple, began with a question, "So... how does this weaken the humans?" He inquired, his crimson-colored cohort shooting a sidelong glance at him with a look that said: You had to ask.

"The sudden, unpleasant appearance of the springy snake will surprise the humans and cause them to fear any such cans in the future. Neglecting the dietary supplements provided by the delicious nuts of Pea, their bodies will wither and they will be unable to put up any resistance when our glorious armada invades!" He outstretched his arms, basking in the glow of his brilliance and exclaiming, "VICTORY!"

"Well, that certainly sounds..." The Tallest Red gave a long yawn mid-sentence, "... devious. Invader Zim, we'll be sure to-"

"Hey, Zim!" Came a nasally voice from off-screen, "D'ya have any more of these cans, I just can't seem to find one with any nuts in 'em- HEY! ARE THOSE THE TALLEST?!" It was at this point a portly, ugly Irken by the name of Invader Skoodge became visible upon the view screen, an open can of lies, cloth and spring clutched in his hand, the contents of which was hanging from one of his antenna. He stood at attention and saluted, "Greetings, my Tallest! It is I: Invader Skoodge! Remember? Skoodge! You know, Skooooodge! Skoodgy! Skoodgy-Skoo! We went to the Academy together!" The fat Irken said, moving closer and closer as he talked until his face was almost pressing against the transmission screen.

"Ew. Ew! EWWWWWW! AHHHH! Get it away! GET IT AWAY!" The Tallest exclaimed. Skoodge did not look good on an HD communication screen. "GET IT AWAAAAAAY!"

"Skoodge! Stop offending our leaders with your DISGUSTING visage!" Zim exclaimed as he pulled his fat friend off of the communications console. "Now, what did you want?"

"Oh yeah, y'got any more of these cans? I can't seem to find a SINGLE ONE with any nuts in them!"

"Um, Skoodge... where did you get that?"

"Storage Bay Three."

"There was over ten-thousand canisters stored there!"

"Yeah, and not a single one had any nuts in 'em!"

"YOU OPENED ALL OF THEM?! Zim has spent a MONTH canning those springs! Those were part of my ingenius plan, you FOOL!"

"Oh, whoops. My bad. My bad everyone!" Skoodge said, turning back to address the screen. "Heh! Boy is my face red!" He chuckled.

Zim, having no words to express his displeasure, settled for repeatedly bashing his head against the communications console.

"Right, well... we'll just let you get that put back in order, huh? End transmission." The Tallest Red ordered, the transmission remained connected just long enough to hear his purple partner say: "I think I threw up in my mouth a little..."

Zim let loose a heavy sigh, lifting his face from the console and pulling a dislodged button from his forehead, "Well, I suppose it's back to the drawing board of DOOM, then."

"That's the spirit, buddy!" Skoodge said, attempting to offer some encouragement. "Need me to get you anythin'?"

"A headhurt-reduction tablet and a Flornesian Grape Soda." He said, clutching his head as he walked towards the lift to the surface.

"Oh, oops." Skoodge said, following his friend onto the elevator.

"What?"

"I drank 'em all."

"You-" Zim sputtered in a fit for a few brief moments before holding his hands up, attempting to calm himself down, "Fine. No big deal, I'll just take whatever we have left."

"That's the spirit, pal!"

Zim sighed, folding his hands behind his back and closing his eyes as he started to contemplated the situation as the lift began it's slow ascent to the surface level. Sure, Skoodge had ruined his plans and sure, he had been cleaning out his food supplies, and SURE he was living at Zim's base rent-free. But, Skoodge was one of the only semi-intelligent beings on this planet whose company he could stand. The alternative was to be left, once again, with only the company of GIR. And that wasn't entirely healthy for Zim's brainmeats. So, he would put up with Skoodge's shortcomings. They were friends, after all.

Phhhhbt!

Zim's antenna shot up at the sound, that couldn't possibly be what he thought it was, could it?

"'Scuse me!"

Zim's scream of frustration could be heard from the entire cul-de-sac.

"Get-out-get-out-get-out-GET-OUT!" He shouted as he shoved Skoodge's fat form to the front door. A hydraulic lift presented Zim with a big, red button as they reached the door. He stepped to the side and slammed his fist upon the button, the door shot open and a large, robotic arm with a smelly, old boot on the end of it swung down from the ceiling, kicking Skoodge in the rear with enough force to send the fat slob flying across the lawn and onto his face.

The portly Irken groaned as he pushed himself up from the concrete, "But, Zim! I hitchhiked to Earth! I don't have anyway off the planet! Where will I go?! How will I survive! How-" Skoodge's groveling was cut short when the corner of the suitcase Zim had just fired from a shoulder-mounted bazooka struck him right between the eyes. "OW!"

"And STAY out!" Zim shouted as he slammed the door.

Skoodge sighed, rubbing his head as he picked up his suitcase and switched on his disguise, but not before waving at the tumor-headed neighbor lady with a friendly, "How ya doin'?" As he activated his disguise his disgusting, alien appearance was shrouded by the holographic visage of an equally disgusting, redheaded, freckled fat kid. "Well, look out, world! Here comes SKOODGE!"

MEANWHILE! Across the neighborhood at the suburban dwelling of the famous Professor Membrane. The daughter of the world-renown scientist was not amused. Not amused in the least bit. Something had broken down the door to her room, torn through her room and left one of the most unpleasant smells she had ever encountered, along with a fair amount of ectoplasm which was dripping down from the ceiling. Beside her stood her brother, the son of the world's greatest scientist and heir to the Membrane Empire, beaming in amazement at what he had just witnessed. "Wow! Can you believe it, Gaz?! A Mapinguari Ghost! Right here in our own house! The gypsy was right! I can't believe it! Can you believe it, 'cause I can't!"

Gaz' head slowly turned to affix her sibling with a look of pure loathing, the smell of ozone joining the air as her lips twisted into a scowl. Dib let loose a howl of terror as he found himself thrown down the stairs, landing in a bruised heap on the first floor. Gaz dusted off her hands, returning to her room and looking around in disgust. She strode over to her rather impressive computer system, trying to not throw up from the lingering smell of the undead sloth-beast. "Ugh, computer. Execute clean and repair procedures."

"Yes, Mistress!" The deep, heavy-metal singer voice of her computer responded. Various mechanical arms, holding various cleaning utensils, sprouted from the walls and ceiling and began to work upon the mess.

"Estimated completion time?"

"Monday morning! Eee-YEAH!"

"Great. Thanks, DIB!" She sneered and trembled with rage. And entire weekend ruined by her brother's paranormal obsession. Perfect. Gaz was most definitely not amused. She had planned to lock herself in her room for the duration of the weekend and beat the high scores for the newest Twitchy-Shooty Bulletfest: Contemporary Violence game. Now she was stuck with a room that smelled like rotting sloth armpits. That was the sort of thing that made your aim slip.

Meanwhile, Professor Membrane had just come across the crumbled body of his son at the bottom of the stairs via one of his Virtual Parental Presence Devices. He let out a hearty chuckle, rather oblivious to his child's possible concussion, "Watch out, son! That last step is a DOOZY! Ha!"

Dib gave a feeble attempt to push himself up off the floor, only to find the weight of his massive head was much more partial to the ground at this moment. The Professor's monitor turned to address his daughter, who was currently descending the stairs with a backpack slung over her shoulder, "Daughter! Watch your step! A wayward stair seems to have caused your brother to suffer from Newton's Law!"

"Ahuh." She said, making a point to step upon her injured brother when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"My SPLEEN!" Dib wailed.

"Dad, Dib's stupidity has destroyed my room. I'm gonna go spend the weekend over at a friend's house, 'kay?"

"Oh, a sleepover! Why it's been years since your last one with the Ramirez Family. Say, what ever happened to them?"

"Witness Protection Program."

"Ho ho! That's right! You sure were a handful back then!"

"Yeah, call you when I get there, okay?" Gaz said as she strode out the door, slamming it shut behind her. She gave a sigh, glad to be out of that house. Now, the question remained, where would she go? After the Ramirez Incident there were few people willing to let her sleep over. She realized that there was one person who had not heard of the Incident and gave a grimace as she started walking, "This is gonna be a long weekend."

Back inside the Membrane Residence, Dib's unconscious body was starting to attract flies. He groaned, "Ugh... I think my brain is leaking."

It was after a few more minutes lying face down in a puddle of his own pain that Dib heard the doorbell ring

Ding-dong!

"I'LL GET IT!" Dib exclaimed rather cheerfully for someone suffering suffering from possible brain hemorrhaging as he was up on his feet in an instant, rushing over to answer the door to come face to face with a fat, ginger kid with a big, wide smile on his face and a heavy suitcase in his hands.

"Hi!"

"... Hi." Dib said, a brow raised as he looked upon this strange, fat kid. Did he know this person? Was he suffering from amnesia? He SOUNDED familiar. Dib decided he'd try to be as polite as he could be to the stranger on the off-chance he was someone important he had forgotten about due to his abusive sibling's vengeance.

The strange, smiling redhead then asked something surreal, "Can I stay here for a while?"

"Um..." Dib decided that being polite would have to take a backseat. There was a fat, smiling ginger kid with a suitcase whom he had never seen before asking him if he could stay at his house. What would you do? "... who are you?"

The fat ginger looked slightly confused for a moment, "Huh? Oh, right! I forgot!" The strange kid put down his suitcase and pressed a button on his watch. His image twitch for a moment before disappearing leaving a fat, ugly irken standing in his place, "Ta-da!"

"Oh, JEEZ!" Dib exclaimed, taken quite far aback as he looked in horror at the being in front of him, trying not to be visibly ill at the sight of him. Skoodge did not look good in person, either.

The Irken chuckled at the reaction, "Heh-heh, yeah. I get that a lot. So, howsabout it?!" He said, smiling and holding up his suitcase. Dib just waved him in, covering his mouth with his other hand in an attempt to keep the bile down. Skoodge beamed and stepped inside, looking around with a whistle, "Nice place y'got here, buddy!" He set his suitcase down and switched his disguise back on.

Dib seemed to recover from the revolting sight with just the taste of his stomach's juices in his mouth. "Ugh, aren't you Zim's friend? What're you doing here?"

"Oh, he kicked me out. Can you believe that, after all we'd been through together! He just kicks me out! Doesn't even bother to call me a spacecab! Just BOOTS me out the door! Say, are you hungry? I'm hungry! Y'have any muffin mix around here?" Skoodge seemed to be making himself right at home.

"Um, yeah. That's aw-" Dib felt a bit of a momentary relapse of his earlier disgust and struggled to keep the vomit down, "-awful."

"I know, right!" Skoodge said, deploying his pack's spider legs to reach the top shelf, "So, whaddya like in your muffins, pal? Pal?" He looked around, only to find Dib had sped off to the bathroom to throw up, "Well... guess I'll go with chocolate chip, then!"

MEANWHILE!

Gaz had reached her destination, the putrid-looking, green eyesore that was Zim's Base. She sighed, reassuring herself that as annoying as Zim and his stupid robot dog were, they weren't nearly as annoying as her brother or his paranormal fetish. She figured if she keeps reminding herself that, she would make it through the weekend. Or it would go the way of the Ramirez Family. As she strode up to the front door she could hear the whirring of the security gnomes as they turned their heads to watch her. With a quick look over her shoulder, their heads snapped back forward, terrified they had been seen by the frightening girl. Gaz gave a grunt, ringing the doorbell and waiting. She was greeted by one of the Roboparents, the father-unit.

"-and THAT son is why you always leave a note!" It said, waving what appears to be a prosthetic arm. After introducing said arm to the robot's artificial throat, Gaz dropped her backpack on the floor and hopped up on the couch. Pulling out her Gameslave, she started making bets with herself upon how long it would take for Zim to notice her presence in his base.

It was about two and a half hours before Zim became aware there was an intruder. The Invader was currently down Storage Bay Three, attempting to salvage the Springy Lies Plan. "Three.. hundred... forty... TWO..." He was not making the best of progress. He grunted as he managed to get the spring back into the can, he handed the canister of fallacies to his faithful servant: GIR who, rather than place the loaded container back on the shelf, simply opened and let the spring hit him in the face, giggling wildly afterwards. Zim failed to notice his minion amusing itself at the cost of rendering his efforts pointless. "Three... hundred... forty... THR-"

"WARNING! INTRUDER ALERT!"

"WHAT?!" Zim exclaimed, losing his grip on the can and finding himself greeted rather forcefully by it's contents. Rubbing his face where the snake hit, he addressed the computer, "An intruder?!"

"Uh, yeah. S'been there for the past two and a half hours."

"THEN WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME?!"

"I did. And you said..." The computer played back one of Zim's response: "Yes, yes. Tell me again in fifteen minutes."

Zim let out a growl, throwing his hands in the air infrustration as he raced for the lift. Contemplating who would await him on the surface, "Dib... no... SKOODGE."

Upon arriving upon the surface level he charged into the living room, shoulder-mounted bazooka loaded with an old boot, he exclaimed, "I told you to get out Skoodge- You're not Skoodge!" He dropped the bazooka in surprise as he looked upon the intruder.

"Pft, what was your first clue?" Gaz responded, not bothering to look up from her game.

"Dib-sister." He spat with disgust, "How did you get into my base?! Who sent you?! Who's arm is that?!" He said, pointing to prosthetic arm sticking out of his decoy-dad's throat.

"Dib and his STUPID paranormal HEAD wrecked my room. I'm staying here over the weekend."

"Oh no, you aren't!" Zim wasn't about to let a filthy human girl squat at his base after the trouble he just went through with a roommate of his same species. "Out! Out! OU-OW! OW! OW!" The Irken, of course, had made the mistake of trying to manhandled the human girl out the door and now found his finger being twisted rather painfully by the plum-haired princess of pain. Zim was forced to take a knee, screaming in agony, Gaz didn't even bother to look up from her game as she twisted, one hand still scoring headshots upon her online foes. "OKAY! OKAY! I GIVE! YOU CAN STAY!"

She released the Invader from the painful death grip and he huddled into a fetal position, cradling his dislocated digit and whimpering. This was going to be a long weekend.