A/N: Okay, so I'm still continuing this bizarre crack fic. I'm happy that it so far managed to get good responses.

Anyway, next chapter. You know what to do at the end.

'Should I just sneak over?'

Dib jittered about in his seat, occasionally tapping the pads of his fingers along the surface of his desk. He habitually bit at his lip, subconsciously gnawing at the tender flesh as his eyes danced across the class. He raised his head and scrutinized the class clock, locking it with a firm glare as he silently urged it to hurry the hell up.

'Maybe I should just go home,' he frowned, fiddling with his eraser, mindlessly picking away at it. 'There's always a chance he—it, might hack in again.'

"But what if he doesn't!" Dib nearly yelped, gripping the eraser so hard that it shot out his hand and hit Zita upside the head. He instantly stilled and leaned back into his chair, shooting Zita a cursory glance.

"Hey!" Zita yelled, turning around in her seat and fixing Dib with a heated scowl. She raised her hand and beckoned to the teacher, Miss. Bitters, who was agonizingly prattling on about a pending Junior Thesis paper. "Miss Bitters, Dib's being insane again!"

"Dib stop that, before I feed you to the hounds again," Miss Bitters automated, gnashing her serrated teeth in a feral grimace. She hunched her shoulders and cast a leering glare over the entirety of the classroom, before she floated back to her desk. She continued to drone on and on in that horrible, garbled speech of hers, while Zita kept on giving him a scathing look of contempt, and Dib didn't know if he could sit still for another 30 minutes without going bat-shit crazy.

'Why the hell is she still alive anyway?' he thought skeptically.

Meanwhile, directly opposite Dib's seat, Zim sat unmoving. His back was perfectly straight and his gloved hands were clasped firmly atop his desk, occasionally shooting an attentive glare at the paranormal investigator who was having such a difficult time remaining in his seat. What was the Dib-thing doing moving around like that? Did he have some sort of bowel movement?

'This shouldn't be freaking me out as much as it is,' Dib thought incredulously, biting down at his lip. 'But it's so creepy!' He couldn't exactly shake the most recent encounter with Computer from his mind, no matter how much he tried to forget the whole thing and pretend it never happened.

But it did.

Computer had performed some kind of omnipresent scan on him, a sort of extraterrestrial mind-link or whatever the heck you'd call it, and it wasn't the awkwardness of the whole thing that irked him, but more of the scan's invasive nature that troubled him so. He loathed admitting it, but he had gotten a very brief glimpse into the inner psyche of a computer—a superior alien processor that could surprisingly feel "things". Perhaps it was a glitch in Computer's system, or maybe Dib was being too analytical, however despite what it claimed to be, Dib had definitely felt and seen some bizarre things.

He really needed to pay Zim's base a visit.

"Dib-thing."

Dib froze, however realizing whom the voice belonged to, continued to sling his satchel around his shoulder. He pushed his desk chair in, making an incriminating grating noise as it raked across the floor, warranting a hiss from Miss Bitters.

"Hyuuuman. Don't act as if I'm not here!" Zim barked, his arms pressed firmly at his sides. He gnashed his jagged teeth in disdain as Dib halted and warily turned around, hazel eyes shifting about, before the teen cast a weak grimace towards the Irken invader.

"Uh, what?" Dib questioned, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. There was a minute rip in the material where it attached to the bulk of his bag—he'd have to mend it soon before it ripped completely off. Zim continued to scrutinize the human, faux optics narrowed into harrowing slits, before casting a glance at Miss Bitters who was practically fuming at this point.

"Zim, Dib- get out," she growled, murky tendrils of swiveling black smoke coiling about her hunched form. The Irken rolled his eyes and scoffed, while Dib shrugged his shoulders and exited out the classroom.

"Okay, tell me," Zim commanded, his voice lowering. Dib blinked.

"Tell you what?" the human queried, turning around and stalking off. He didn't get very far before he heard Zim's clipped steps hurriedly catching up behind him.

"You're plotting something, aren't you Dib-filth?" Zim accused, pointing a gloved finger at Dib. The invader turned his head and glared at the human, a wicked smile etching across his green face. "Oh, I'm right aren't I? I knew it! You've been plotting something while squirming around in that seat of yours!"

'Whaaa…was I squirming?' Dib thought to himself, accidentally ramming into an open hallway locker. The owner of said locker hissed at him, and Dib merely pouted and rubbed at the impending bruise along his shoulder. Why was everyone hissing at him today?

"I'm …not plotting anything…" Dib trailed off, looking away. For some reason, he felt sluggish and slow, as if his head were lighter –miracle!- and his body was floating on air, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, "How's your computer?"

There was a pithy moment of silence, a silence so dreadful that Dib could taste the saliva accumulating in his mouth, before Zim yelled, "My computer is AMAZING, the best in Irken machinery! Nothing can compare to such an amazing computer such as the one I have…!"

And Zim continued to ramble on and on about how superior his race was, how intelligent and cunning and vindictive they all were, and Dib found himself not listening to a word Zim was spewing. He was very grateful the alien's ego managed to come in handy this time.

"Your computer is pretty amazing…" Dib found himself mumbling, and Zim halted his tirade of gloating supremacy, eyeing Dib from the corner of his eye.

"Eh?" the Irken quipped.

"Hm?" Dib shrugged.

Zim lowered his raised hands and fitted them by his sides. He glowered at the human. "You're acting stranger than normal, fleshling. But I DIGRESS, all you deplorable, filthy earth worms are ludicrous!"

And with that, Zim scurried away. "I'll have Computer keep an eye on you, Dib-thing!"

Dib halted and widened his eyes, watching Zim's retreating figure tapering out into the distance. A wracking shiver coursed through his body, churning the acids in his stomach, and in consequence to this mild-form of panic attack, he hiccupped.

Oh, that didn't sound good at all, what Zim had said. Dib didn't particularly want to be monitored by Computer again, and he when he thought back to his prior encounters with the Irken machine, a spasmodic shudder took over his body.

"Hell no," he breathed.

Maybe he should have given this a little more thought.

Dib stood in front of the looming structure of Zim's house. He had yet to step foot in the front yard, in fear of being zapped to death, and he was starting to think he should have prepared himself beforehand. He didn't have any of his equipment on him: no spy cameras, no deactivation beams…no computer. But really, this visit had been last minute—he had acted entirely on impulse. Now here he was, with no idea how he should coordinate his next movements without being charred beyond recognition. Maybe if he stared at the house long enough, stared at Computer (he kept forgetting Computer was Zim's house), something would happen. Perhaps Computer would deactivate the lawn gnomes for him?

Taking a deep breath, Dib hardened his resolve and placed a tentative step on the concrete pathway leading to the front door— a jolt of red immediately zapped from one of the lawn gnomes and left an inky black scorch mark where Dib's foot had been.

"Geez!" Dib yelped, jumping back as he cast a seething glare up at the house. "Was that completely necessary?"

As if in response, Zim's door tepidly clicked open, the hinges screeching shrilly as the door opened wider. Dib couldn't see anything beyond the door, just dank darkness, and the teen instinctively gulped. Hopefully that meant he could venture safely across the lawn without getting zapped on sight.

Erecting himself, Dib straightened out his coat collar and fixed his satchel in place, before taking a hesitant step forward. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, but when nothing seemed to happen, Dib opened his eyes in relief and continued forward. His boots made a hollow clipping sound as he walked across the narrow concrete pathway, the front of his boots occasionally trampling over a trodden weed.

He halted before the threshold as he peered inside. He could see a faint flicker and glow in the distance, like that of a TV playing, and heard a series of shrill shrieks and giggles—Gir was watching TV.

"I'm surprised Zim hasn't been alerted yet," he mumbled to himself, backing away from the door. Just then, he heard something slide open from inside—it sounded like something was slithering towards him, accompanied by a series of whirs and trills. He gasped when a wire cable slinked through the doorway and wrapped itself around his wrist, tugging the boy along. Dib stumbled on his feet and practically jumped inside, the door shutting close behind him.

He was enveloped in darkness, save for the faint glare from the TV, and the thick wire encircling his wrist didn't relent, instead tugging him along in the dark as he tried not to stagger and fall flat on his face. The dwelling turned utterly silent then—he could no longer hear Gir's insane cackling, and in a matter of seconds, he heard the metallic clip of little fleet trotting madly across the floor, before he felt something grab onto his leg.

"Agh!" he yelled, kicking his leg out. When he peered down, he could see two teal-tinted saucers gazing up at him. Gir had attached himself to Dib's leg, cuddling his alloy face against Dib's jeans. A sketchy smile scrawled across the SIR unit's features, pink tongue lolling out.

"Are youuuuu here for the SLUMBER PARTY?" Gir shrieked, giggling manically. Dib gasped when the unit's head spun around, until it firmly locked in place as if nothing had happened. In the distance, Dib could hear a faint squeaking sound, and it continued to get louder as it drew near. A light flickered to life above him, not substantially bright, but light enough to make out the plump form of Minimoose floating beside Gir, it's bulbous eyes pointed in different directions.

"Squeak!"

"I loveded him too," Gir sniffed, rubbing a stubby metal hand at his eye.

"Oh, Minimoose, scared me sort of," Dib breathed, leaning forward. He pried Gir off his leg and held the robot aloft, shooting a bemused stare at the smiling Minimoose. Gir squinted his eyes and kicked his legs to and fro, as if dancing to some non-existent tune. "Uhhh, shouldn't Zim be here by now, ya' know, kicking me out and all?"

The wire cable retracted from around Dib's wrist and slithered up into the ceiling, a square tile sliding open to replace it with a moderately sized monitor attached to an alloy bar. The monitor lowered until it hovered face to face with Dib, the screen flickering to life and beaming a ghostly pallid light.

/He's not here./

"Okay then, where is he? 'Cuz you know, I don't exactly wanna' be caught without any weapons to defend myself and- ."

/He left to retrieve specimens./

Dib blinked and gently placed Gir on the ground, the SIR unit giggling madly as he turned around and sped off towards the TV, Minimoose squeaking happily behind him.

"Specimens? Is he plotting some half-assed scheme again?" Dib queried, crossing his lithe arms across his chest.

/He won't be here for some time. I'm tracking his progress./

Dib stilled, a numbing sensation taking residence at the base of his throat. He didn't like how that sounded. "O-okay, GPS, that's nice I guess."

His stomach churned as silence followed after, a bubbling pool of anxiety frothing at the pit of his belly. Given the situation, Dib didn't think it was such a good idea to act impulsively after all—this was just…awkward. What should he say, what should he do? Should he simply cut in and inquire about the scan Computer had performed on him those two days ago, or should he just make light conversation with the machine?

Wait.

'What the hell, light conversation?' Dib thought, thunderstruck. 'This is a fucking computer I'm talking about here.'

/Your heart rate has elevated again./

Dib sputtered, shooting the monitor a wary glare. "Dude, Computer—whatever! Stop scanning my vitals!"

/Hn. I can't help it./

"Why?" Dib bit out, folding his arms tight across his chest. He thought if he shielded his body away from the probing glare of the monitor, he could somehow block himself out—it didn't work.

/ I was programmed that wayyyyy./

"Oh. I guess…if you were programmed that way—no! Just don't okay?" Dib retaliated, side stepping the monitor. He hurriedly trotted to where Gir and Minimoose sat positioned in front of the TV, the Scary Monkey Show blaring across the flickering screen. He heard Minimoose squeak in glee, while Gir made cooing noises at the monkey.

'This could be a good chance to poke around Zim's lab,' Dib thought off-handedly, leaning against the living room couch. 'But I think Computer would mind if I did that…on account of…those images…'

"Hey!" Dib suddenly yelped, turning his head. He gasped and fell back onto the couch, a gleaming monitor hovering only a few inches away from him. How'd Computer get there so fast?

"That…that scan," Dib started, sprawled across the length of the couch. He stared up at the looming monitor, the screen clipping once, before it stilled and hovered forward. "Those images…what kind of scan was that? I mean…I don't know what I mean."

Dib flushed and sat himself up, leaning back on the support of hands. He was making himself sound like a complete idiot—he couldn't even get a coherent sentence out.

"You did something to me, I saw it—felt it," Dib explained, bending his knees. He licked his lips and looked away, furrowing his brow. "It was sort of cool, but I don't understand…"

/I suppose you wouldn't./

"Huh?"

Computer whirred, a trilling sound coming from somewhere unknown. /Hn./

"What were they?" Dib whispered, voicing the question aloud.

/You should go./

Dib snapped his head up and glared at Computer, a protest forming in his mouth. "No way! You totally just side-stepped my question! And you owe me a new monitor!"

/…it was unintentional./

Dib threw his legs over the edge of the couch and stood up, standing eye-level with the now crackling monitor.

"What was unintentional? Ignoring my question? Breaking my monitor?" Dib queried, stepping closer to the screen. Heat emanated from the display, warming his face; he would have reveled in the warmth if he wasn't feeling so exasperated.

"Tell me what you- !"

Dib was brutally interrupted when the door burst open, an irate Irken invader standing at the threshold with a writhing potato-sack hanging from his shoulder.

"I smell human filth."

A/N: Oh, that Minimoose.