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Don't you just love bugging someone when they're trying to concentrate? (actually, this happens more TO me than the other way around) Poor Zim. He just looooves Spazz, you know. *smile*
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Chapter 3 Zim Tries To Concentrate
"Welcome home, kids!" The robot mom seemed realistically pleased to see her 'offspring.' Realistic, minus the new "To Serve Man" apron and pot of spaghetti over her head.
"Hi mommy!" shouted Spazz loudly. She reached up and grabbed a single strand of spaghetti. "Mmm!"
"Ugh," moaned Zim as he pushed the mom out of the way. Spazz rushed into the house and jumped on the couch.
"I beat you!" she said, pulling the giant orange wig off and tossing it into a corner with vengeance.
"It was not a contest," said Zim hotly. He yanked his boots off and sat back in the couch. "Ahh..." The fragile silence was suddenly shattered.
"VAAAAAAAAASSSSSOLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEAN!"
Zim groaned and slapped himself in the face before GIR had a chance to even enter the room. Which he did, face first, sliding across the floor.
"Hello, master!" he chimed. "I am slippery!" To demonstrate, he stood up, took a running start, jumped down onto the floor, and slid into the wall leaving a slime trail behind him.
"Euuuuuu..." said Spazz, looking at the smeared vasolean.
"GIR," started Zim, looking at him between the fingers of the hand covering his face, "vasolean is VERY DIFFICULT to remove... from ANYTHING!"
"I know!" squeaked the robot. His eyes squinched up, then stuck. "Aaah! I cannot move my eyes!" GIR stumbled around the room, bumping into things. Whenever he hit something relatively light, it stuck to him.
"THIS, is what I have to deal with," said Zim, exasperated, holding his hands out at GIR.
Spazz giggled. "I'll fix it!" She ran over to GIR and picked him up by a leg. "To the showie for de little ROBOT!!"
GIR screamed, though Zim could not tell if it was out of fear, or happiness.
"Look master!"
Zim squinted. GIR stuck his face close to Zim's.
"I am squeaky clean! Squeaky clean!!" GIR rubbed the side of his face with one hand, producing an annoying
-ssssssssqqeeeeeeeeeeeak!- sound.
"GIR, I'm trying to concentra-"
-Ssssssssqqeeeeeeeeeak!-
"I really have to finish this-"
-Ssssssssqqeeeeeeeeeak!-
"Can't you go annoy Spa-"
-Ssssssssqqeeeeeeeeeak!-
"GO AWAY!!"
GIR sniffed, hand mid-squeak! He pouted, then turned and slowly walked out.
Zim rolled his eyes. "At last! A little pea-"
From the other room came; -ssssssssssssqqeeeeeeeeak!-
"Argh..."
Spazz bounded into the room.
"What're you doing?" she asked, jumping onto the couch next to him.
Zim scowled. "Working."
"Why don't you work downstairs?"
-sssssssssqqeeeeeeeeak!-
Zim looked at her. "A good question." He got up and walked to the kitchen.
Spazz hummed to herself and vaguely wondered why he would go to the kitchen to work downstairs. No matter, she thought to herself.
"Squeak!" said Spazz.
GIR crept up to the door frame, looked inside carefully, and snuck into the room.
"Hello, crazy girl-master," piped GIR.
"Hall-oooooo!"
Spazz grinned and picked up the remote. GIR clapped his hands together and joined her on the couch.
"What's good, here?" asked Spazz.
"Ooo... the Anti-Psychotic Game Show is on! I love this show."
"Who would want to be anti-psychotic?"
"I dunno..."
Zim glanced up in annoyance as he heard the theme music from yet another stupid TV show.
"Thirty macro-midgets of reinforced STEEL ALLOY cannot keep the insanity out!" he screamed. "When will they learn? TV is not the answer... merely a sedative. Hmm..."
"It's the wacky wacky wacky wacky theeeeeeeme show!"
Zim distinctly heard two voices singing along. As he tapped buttons, he wondered why ANY Irkin calling him or herself an Invader would tolerate such unrestrained, unproductive dribble from something as primative as a TV.
"It could at LEAST operate on an INTERESTING wavelength," he muttered. "Silly underevolved bipeds... relying so on their microwaves..."
Zim entered a few calculations into the terminal. "Ahh... distortion. Most sweetest of disorganizational words..." The terminal accepted the precise mathematics and began carrying out his orders. "Now... to darken the TVs over all the lands!" He laughed evilly and made a not-so-nice face as he pushed a button. "Trust me," he said to himself. "It's ALWAYS the red button."
"Kimberly here says she has TEN voices in her head. Do we believe Kimberly? Huh, audience? Do we? We've only met three so far-"
"She's lying," said Spazz, flicking a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in her mouth.
"How do you know?" asked GIR, eyes wide and semi-focused on the glossy screen.
"Two of them were from the same place," explained Spazz. "But they didn't have the same accent."
"You're so smart," breathed GIR.
"And... the audience has chosen... FAKE! Kimberly, your stunt as a failed psychotic killer has earned you the rights to a cruize in Alabama and ten years behind bars!"
GIR and Spazz laughed as Kimberly turned pale white and screamed while being dragged off-screen by two armed guards.
"Next up, a man who identifies himself only as "Fajito."
"Taco!" screamed GIR.
"Taco?"
Suddenly, the screen fuzzed over. The gray snow fizzled until it faded to black, and there was silence.
"NOOOO!" screamed GIR, flinging himself to the floor, and into a bit of slime trail. "NOOO!"
Spazz flinched. "Shh, listen," she said, pointing down.
GIR stopped long enough in his sobs to hear violent, evil laughter sounding from downstairs. His eyes turned red. "Zim..." he growled.
He jumped up and ran into the kitchen.
"I love marshmellows."
Spazz squinted at the mound of white fluff, quickly disappearing, before GIR.
"They look squishy," she said.
"And sticky," replied GIR with his mouth full.
Zim strolled out of the toilet, looking very smug.
"Geep!" screamed Spazz. She launched a marshmellow at Zim.
His smug look quickly melted into one of confusion. "Aaah!" he screamed, flinging himself aside. The marshmellow flew by him, hit the floor, and exploded.
"GIR!"
GIR flinched. "What?"
"Sorry, habit." Zim cleared his throat. "Spazz!"
"Yes?" she smiled, fluttering her eyelashes.
"What are you doing, throwing explosive monkey garbage food around my house?! I could have been-"
"Monkey food?"
Zim scowled. "I could have been-" he started in a low voice.
"Vio-lated!" finished Spazz. She rocked back on her heels with laughter. "Wuhahahahahahaha!"
GIR joined in on the laugh, but it was not apparent if he understood why it was funny, if it was funny at all, which Zim didn't think it to be.
"I know what's going on here!" Zim screamed, pointing at Spazz. "A conspiracy!"
At the word, her laughter stopped. She stood shock-still, not even twitching.
"Conspiracy!" squeaked GIR. Spazz ignored him.
Zim took a step toward her. She didn't move. He took another step. She didn't move. He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling the cuff up.
"Ah ha-"
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Spazz's high pitched scream shattered a few windows.
Zim looked carefully at the thin glass tube imbedded into her shoulder. It looked like the tube of a thermometer, with markings at different heights indicating the amount of liquid still left in the tube. It was very small, and easily hidden by her short sleeve.
GIR giggled.
"If this is what I think it is," said Zim slowly, "then you can't be an Invader."
Spazz snapped her head away from him and stared at the wall. "Why?" she asked.
The full realization of who he was with suddenly hit Zim. He took a small step back from her.
"Only the most unstable of Irkins are permitted, no, forced to wear this," he said firmly.
Spazz sniffed.
"This administrates medications so potent they could reduce an entire city of worm ridden humanlings to zombies!" Zim's eyes suddenly sparked at that. "Please tell me you have more?"
"No," said Spazz sadly. "No more."
"We're doomed!" GIR sang cheerfully.
"NO more?! How did they LET you come here?" screamed Zim. "You can't GO for very long without these kinds of blockers, can you?"
A single tear dripped out of one eye. Spazz blinked it away. "YOU DON'T LIKE ME ANY MORE!!!" she sobbed. She wrenched her arm away from Zim and covered her face. "Just because I can't stay focused for more than one-" a butterfly passed by the window just then, and Spazz lifted her head. "Ooo! Pretty!"
"Doomed! Doom, doom, doom-"
"GIR, shut up!"
Zim looked carefully at Spazz. Backing away slowly, he felt along the wall for a certain compartment. While she is still occupied, he thought to himself. He flicked a secret door open and grabbed a sophisticated-looking gun.
Spazz looked over blearily. Recognizing the weapon, she let out a shriek. Zim took careful aim. A single dart lodged itself into Spazz's right shoulder. She fell flat on her face with an ungainly THUD.
"Is she dead?" asked GIR, smiling and popping another delicious marshmallow into his mouth.
