It was Friday, now. The night of the dance. Skoolchildren all over the city were preparing for the brief, fleeting night of enjoyment provided to them by the Skoolboard. One Skoolchild in particular was especially busy preparing for the oncoming social event. Albeit, he wasn't so much a child as he was a centuries-old alien invader, but let's not nitpick. Aforementioned Invader had just spent the major of his spare time since Wednesday down in the depths of his Base in a subsection of the Lab he had named the Making Stuff Room, hunched over a workbench.

"Aha! It is finished!" Exclaimed the green-skinned demon from beyond the stars as he held up a microchip he had spent the last several days designing. "VICTORY!"

"Whoo!" Cheered the dumpy, ugly, OTHER space demon who was currently stuffing his face with a microwaved Vort Dog. "So, what is it?"

"A modified movement enforcement chip! I designed it a while back to force the Dib-beast to bash his ENORMOUS head against a wall until his brainmeats were the consistency of JELLY! Unfortunately, the stink-boy's cranium outlasted the wall and he was able to remove the chip from his head." Zim scowled as he recalled the memory, placing the chip upon a cybernetic pedestal. "Computer! Download Dance Subroutines into the M.E. Chip!"

"Download commencing."

The Irken folded his hands behind his back, turning around to address his portly friend, only to find that Skoodge was currently dressed in the outfit intended for the Operation that had been scrapped on Wednesday. "... Skoodge, why are you wearing that?"

"Oh, you know... in case... something goes wrong... I wanna be ready to... bail you out at a moment's notice!"

"It's that comfortable, eh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe!" Skoodge smiled, bouncing on his heels.

"Download complete."

"I'm modified the chip for use in a Pak and programmed it with a list of songs and their corresponding dances!" Zim grinned as he picked the chip up off the pedestal, detaching his Pak and placing it upon the workbench.

Skoodge was about to ask if modifying one's own life-giving Pak was wise when another question came to mind. "Hold on. What if the D.J. plays something you haven't programmed into the chip?"

Zim gave a chuckle as he inserted the chip and gestured to the neon-garbed, headphoned human suspended in a solution in one of the many subject tubes lining the walls. "I've already taken care of that!"

After installing the chip, the Irken reattached his Pak and opened a communication. "GIR! Has everything been set up according to plan?!"

"THERE'S COWS EVERYWHERE, MASTAH!"

"The turntable, GIR! Have you set up the turntable?!"

"Sure did! I's gonna be layin' down the beeeeeeaaaaaaaats! JUSTLIKEDIS! Omp-chikka-omp-chikka-omp-chikka-omp-chikka! Doodle-leet-deedle-leet! Doodle-leet-deedle-leet-" Zim cut off the communication in annoyance, turning back around to address Skoodge.

"As you can see, Skoodge. Your concern is not needed! Soon Zim shall assert his dominance over the other, feeble earthworms and be declared LORD OF THE DANCE! And by Earthen Skoolyard Law that will make Zim THE most popular of all the stink-children, they will worship me as through I were a-"

"ALERT! ALERT! MULTIPLE VESSELS DETECTED ENTERING THE SYSTEM!" The computer exclaimed, alarms going off all over the base. Zim growled as he rushed over to a nearby control panel and began to shut down the alarms.

"Bah! Who would DARE to invade my future planet THIS time?!" Slamming his fist upon the controls, a hologram of one of them vessels popped up. "Oh... NO!"

The hologram displayed what appeared to be the mix between a spaceship, a motorcycle and the Catacombs of Paris. It was a Space Bike covered in skulls. "...The Brudal."

"... Who?" Skoodge questioned, bits of Vort Dog tumbling out of his mouth.

"Skoooooooodge!" Zim said, hands on his hips in an Oh, you! manner. "Did you skip class the day they had the lesson on planet Brud?"

The fat Irken gave a chuckle and responded, "Well, gee! I guess I must have forgotten after getting HORRIBLY maimed by something!"

Both Irkens had a grand old chuckle at this before Zim returned to being deadly serious. Bringing up a hologram of one of the Brudal, a large, hulking, gray-skinned, muscular humanoid with an enormous, jutting jaw and greasy black hair, he began to give much needed exposition. "The Brudal are a barbaric, warlike race from the planet Brud. Best known for their love of skulls, spikes and leather! As well as their skills with the Space Guitar!"

The hologram shimmered and was suddenly dressed in spiky, metal battle armor and was shredding a sick riff upon a battleaxe guitar. Skoodge was impressed, "Wow! Look at him go!"

"Yes. Using only their loud music and wild parties they managed to drive nearly all other races out of their system! As for the rest..." Zim pressed a button and a smaller, happier, friendlier alien appeared next to the Brudal, offering the larger creature a flower and a squeaky giggle. The gray-skinned brute gave a roar and stomped the happy alien until it was nothing but a puddle.

"Ew." Skoodge said, making a face disgust. "Guess they don't believe in Orbital Organic Sweeps, huh?"

"Luckily, the great, stupid beasts stick mostly to their own planet, all save for a few..." The Brudal hologram flickered again and was now riding a space bike while wearing a motorcycle space helmet. "Migratory bands of these Brudal Space Biker travel from planet to planet, partying upon each world they visit."

"That doesn't sound too bad!"

"Ho-ho! Foolish, stupid Skoodge... Here is a picture of one of the planets they visited." Zim said as he brought up a picture of a peaceful, utopian cityscape. "... and HERE is what it looked like AFTER the Brudal's party!"

And with just a push of a button, the utopia suddenly became garbage-filled ruins and the once-peaceful inhabitants turned into snarling mutants and vicious raiders.

"Wow, must have been some party." Skoodge said, watching as some of the bandits raced against each other in horrible, spiky scrap-vehicles. Zim nodded and turned off the hologram, leaving his portly friend a little disappointed, having wanted to see how the race turned out.

"And now they're coming to Earth." The Irken Invader clenched his fist and brought it down upon the panel in rage, "DOOKY! A week's worth of planning gone! Ah, well. If we leave now, we might be able to intercept them before they reach Neptune!"

"Oooooh no! I can't let you do that, buddy!" Skoodge said, crossing his arms, "You've been preparing for this dance all week! I ain't about to let you miss it!"

"Skoodge, if the Brudal arrive on Earth they'll reduce it to a stinking, garbage-filled ruin! Then WE won't get to do it!" Zim complained as the portly Irken started pushing him. "Think of the MISSION, Skoodge!"

"There's more to life than the mission, buddy!" Skoodge commented as an automatic changing chamber descended on Zim. "You go to the dance, I'LL go fight the Bruddle!"

"BRUDAL!" The Invader corrected as the chamber lifted to reveal the Irken dressed in a black top hat and tails. "FINE! Take Minimoose and the Voot Cruiser out to meet the stinking Space Bikers before they reach Earth! Computer! Prep the ship for space travel!"

Skoodge gave a big grin and a salute, "Don't worry about a thing, buddy! We'll drop you off at your date's house and stop those stinkin' bikers from invadin'! You can count on ME!"

"Can you put on pants, first?"

"... 'Kay."

After a quick drop-off at the Membrane House, Skoodge, after having changed back into his uniform, and Minimoose were on their way to combat the oncoming smelly, unwashed hordes of motor-mounted brutes. Sort of. "All we've got to do is convince them to have their party somewhere ELSE! How hard could that be? I'm sure they'll be willing to listen to reason."

Zim had forgotten to mention that Brudal hated most all forms of negotiation, as Skoodge was about to painfully discover.