I do not own Invader ZIM. Not even a little.
The occupants of Ms Bitters class were involved in their usual methods of not paying attention when the seldom used P.A. system crackled to life.
'Attention students! A mandatory skool dance will be held next Friday, ALL students will be required to attend! More information will be given to your teachers shortly.'
Most of the students cheered, some hadn't listened to the announcement and were looking at the cheering students as if they were crazy and asking what was going on, and others made various signs of discomfort at the prospect of spending even more time at the skool. The most noticable of the latter was Zim, who jumped up on his desk shrieking about miserable humans and their evil mandatory events (he was reliving the painful memories of Parent-Teacher Night). Dib also protested, his blatant unpopularity making him loathe every second of contact he had with his classmates and less than eager to spend any more time with them than he had to. Ms Bitters silenced the class (except for Zim, who nobody but Dib paid much attention to anyway) as a greasy-looking kid came in and handed an envelope to her. Sparing a worried look at the still ranting Zim, he returned to whatever part of the skool he'd came from. Zim silenced himself as Ms Bitters tore open the envelope and began to read:
"A mandatory dance will be held to test the social capabilities of the students. Any student who shows poor interactive skills at the dance will be removed from society to spend the rest of their lives doing menial tasks of no purpose so they will not upset the balance of the future workplace and distract others from mindless obediance. Formal attire is required."
As she read, Ms Bitters glared from Zim to Dib, the skools best known social lepers. Both looked rather pale and worried, which was fine by her and it meant that they'd be quiet for at least a little while. She spent the last three hours of the skool day talking about the dances her skool had held and the horrible fates that await the antisocial. She herself was an example, a fact which caused some of the students to burst into tears. Zim and Dib were both busy trying to think of a way to avoid their seemingly inevitable fates, something which neither suceeded in doing by the time the bell rang. As the mass of students made its way out of the building, Zim decided he'd mess with Dib for a bit.
"So, Dib, have you come up with any way to avoid your horrible fate with that big head of yours?" He sneered, secretly hoping to get some ideas on a way to do the same for himself.
"My head is NOT big! And what about you, space boy? At least I can hang out with Gaz! You don't have any friends!"
"Since when does your sister count as a friend, Earth-stink?"
"Shes still more than you've got! Social banishment isn't the same as an autopsy table, but at least you won't be able to take over the world!"
Zim growled, choosing to ignore Dibs comment about his beloved autopsy tables. "She is not! I have...Keef! And GIR! HAH!" The arguement of who had more friends, like everything between them, had become a contest. Neither would back down or ever even admit that it was a dumb thing to argue about. To Dib, it was a battle for mankind. For Zim, a chance to prove his superiority.
"GIR is your robot slave, he doesn't count! He's not even a human! You've only got Keef, and I have Gaz, Gretchen, and Torque!" Dib exclaimed triumphantly.
"Gaz and Gretchen, I don't think Smacky is very fond of you, worm-baby."
"So? Two to one! And Keef only hung around you for a day!"
Zim paused to think of a comeback for this, and in doing so noticed that they were at the point where they'd have to part ways. Zim smirked. "Tomorrow we shall continue this, and see once and for all who the superior being really is!" And with that he raced towards his lair to ask GIR the secrets of his popularity, leaving Dib grinning victoriously behind him.