I don't own Invader Zim. And as long as I'm stating the obvious, Gaz is a repulsive bitch.
Working It Off
Although the day dawned sunny and warm, Gaz is annoyed this morning... even more than usual.
That's because Gaz is having a bad day.
She hurls shut the door of her expensive sports car and grimly swaggers through the gritty, windswept parking lot. Any passerby who take one glance in her direction step away a little faster to avoid her. They don't need to see her expression, let alone make eye contact. Just her general carriage and stride is enough to warn everybody. Usually she takes a fierce, defiant enjoyment from the fear she inspires in people, but right now she doesn't even notice. Her mind is elsewhere.
As she approaches her workplace, Gaz's mood lifts somewhat. The front of this building is covered with weathered bricks which never warm up even in the summer; the shade cast by the cold steel and glass structures on both sides of it makes sure of that. People avoid this address if at all possible, a fact Gaz appreciates.
The front door, made of dark oak and with a cut glass window, is unlocked. She knew it would be; her secretary knows better than to arrive late, ever. When she walks in and slams the door the building jumps.
In the high, paneled hall, she slides out of her expensive fur coat and hangs it up in the closet. She then reaches for her working clothes. Soon she is ready.
The clothing she wears for this job never fails to intimidate people at least a little. Gaz basks in the knowledge of that too.
Gaz spares her secretary a curt nod as she walks past, then heads for her workspace to make sure all is ready. She glances over the neat rows of menacing instruments already laid out, and looks up with approval at the fearful apparatus looming over them all. Now she begins to smile; the mere sight of these tools can immediately plant unease. They don't scare Gaz however; she is a professional who knows exactly how to use them. In theory, her victim can call a halt at any time, but this almost never happens. Even when they do, Gaz blithely continues the procedure for just a bit longer than absolutely necessary.
She enjoys that part the best of all.
Gaz reaches for a stool to collect herself for a moment before starting work for the day. As soon as she sits down and begins relaxing, her mind drifts back to the catastrophic, unforgivable injustices the world has inflicted on her in the previous two hours.
For starters, that morning the mail had dared to be only bills and junk mail, and she had been waiting for something for weeks! The mail carrier had left long before she got to her mailbox so she couldn't threaten him, and even she knew that shrieking at the mailbox wouldn't make her order come any faster.
On her way to work Gaz had stopped at the coffee shop for a muffin, only to see that someone just ahead of her was about to buy the last one! Adding insult to injury, she had been the next customer right behind the idiot and could only watch over his elbow while he bought HER muffin!
It would have been so easy to just reach out, grab it from him and give him the what for, but since Gaz became a grown woman, things are different.
As her fists shook with frustration as Gaz scowled after the man with HER muffin, the cashier couldn't help but notice. She had whispered that the other customer had bought it first, and that if Gaz REALLY had to have THAT muffin, she could only nicely ask the other customer to sell it to her. The cashier had even smiled, obviously not fully understanding the situation. "The worst he can say is, 'No.' What do you have to lose?"
Oh, Gaz had plenty to lose. To begin with, she never lowered herself to "ask" for anything, least of all "nicely." If he said, "No," that really would be the worst thing that could happen. No one ever said "No," to Gaz without dire consequences, but this time Gaz would have been helpless to do anything.
Despite the protesting screams of every cell in her body, she could not mete out her holy vengeance then and there. No longer can she kick and pummel someone senseless while everyone applauds and cheers her on while pointing and laughing at her victim. It rankles Gaz every day that they won't do this for her any more; they sure used to cooperate when she was a schoolgirl!
So Gaz was forced to contain her rage, and on top of that, she couldn't even punish the idiot later. She did not know him; she could not be sure of catching up with him later or indeed of ever seeing him again. She certainly wouldn't be able to corner him like a fish in a barrel when she went home that evening; after all, he didn't live with her or anything.
So the idiot who took, bought and ate HER muffin right in front of her would escape any and all punishment. She couldn't even tell him his immortal soul was going to a place of horrible suffering etc. Some drivel in the criminal code actually allows people to whine about "verbal assault" or some such bullshit.
Even at the best of times, Gaz is always a little angry about this state of affairs. She feels betrayed by society in general, and no one betrays Gaz and gets away with it.
Therefore she has no problem whatsoever with finding someone she CAN hurt. Anyone will do. Gaz isn't particular in this regard.
She just has to be more careful now, and she has found the perfect way to work out the frustrations that plague her.
That was how she chose her career. Not only would she get to inflict pain, but her clients would pay her, pay her well, and even come back again later. Not that they had done anything to deserve her vengeance, but that didn't matter. The angrier she was when she came to work, the more satisfying this job got.
The thing with the muffin wasn't bad enough, no. The day was just getting started. When she stalked out of the coffee shop, Gaz found the fender of her car had been scraped by yet another worthless cowardly idiot. The closest parking spot was empty, so the damage must have been done as the car was leaving. The offender hadn't even had the decency to leave contact information so she could haul him into court where her lawyer could demolish him.
There was sometimes a downside to starting work later than all the other, inferior people. The street was nearly empty. None of the idiots loitering aimlessly around were close enough to have read the offending car's license plate, so none of her questioning tactics could help her now. She had no way of telling where the offender had gone or how long ago he had left. Looked wildly around in mounting rage, Gaz could feel her blood pressure climbing.
All of that is on Gaz's mind as she stands up. It was a wonder she hadn't had an accident on the way to work. The worst thing that happened was that she got was a speeding ticket.
Now she reaches over the tray of instruments and picks up a pair of gloves. Then she checks her supply of needles. She has plenty; every single client could require one and it still wouldn't empty the box.
The slogan on the side of the box boasts, "They're sharp!"
Gaz smiles for the first time that morning and barks at her secretary to send in her first client for that day. The first one to sit in her dentist's chair, the one who will receive the full brunt of Gaz's frustration of this awful morning will be... you.
(A/N) BOO! Yes, I agree... and she's got no business being anybody's sister either.