Tick for Tack part ten (wow, I didn't expect to get this far): Poposition Proposed
well would you look at that? I'm on time? I believe the world may implode now. I hope you're happy. I have now endangered the safety of the universe as we know it for your sake. Not that you care. (by the way, it's friday in this chapter)
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Dib sat at his desk, head in hand, listlessly scrolling through brainless articles on his favorite paranormal webzine.
"This is stupid," he muttered to himself. "None of these people have any idea what they're talking about. How may different animals can you attach 'foot' to, before people realize it's a cliché? I mean, 'pigfoot'? Come on."
"Stop whining about your magical crap!" his sister shouted from across the hall.
"Jerk," he whispered back sulkily.
"Don't insult me or I'll rip out your lungs and feed them to rabid weasels!"
Dib was about to reply with a 'where would you get rabid weasels?' when something strange happened. Something so uncanny, so unheard of, he might have to invent a new word for how strange it was.
It was…. BISTICKERHUTZEN!
What exactly was bistickerhutzen, you may ask? Well, it was a small 'ding' from the speaker of the computer, alerting its master that some poor loser had actually EMAILED him. Take pity on their soul.
"A message?" Dib quirked an eyebrow. The only people who sent him anything were junk mailers and a few of the saner Swollen Eyeball members. The organization was mostly built by people who thought computers would take over the earth one day, and email was carried by virtual 'mail goblins' hiding in your hard drive. Because of that, you could count the few that actually corresponded with him on one hand—and this was not one of those fellow para-nerds.
He leaned in quite close, (close enough to get a tan from the radiation) and read the screen name: 'NormalPatheticHyuman'?
"Now who does that sound like?"
After a minute of wracking his brain, he gave up and clicked.
Hello Dib-stink.
How are you this horrible Earthen day?
Oh. That was who it sounded like.
And inside his quite large and equally nutzoid brain, an epic battle raged between the forces of good… and boredom. Wow. This was how their game got started in the first place.
Finally, he came to a decision. It's gotta be better than pigfoot, he thought.
Zim, where did you get this address?
Deep in the basement of the alien's lab, Zim crossed his arms, put off. Not a great way to start this conversation, but then again, he never was much for tact.
Nowhere. Certainly not from your secret personal files which I drilled into in the dead of night two days ago.
What?
No time for that, earth-smell. Zim is very busy today and there is a point to this conversation.
It's nighttime Zim.
QUESTION ME NOT!
Okay, whatever. What was the point?
Zim sat back in his big insectoid chair. It really was quite hard to keep himself on track. So troublesome, in fact, that at least half his teachers had recommended him for some sort of medication. Like he was really going to take that poisonous crap. It did enough damage to the zombie-children, imagine what it would do to his superior Irken body?
Wait, what was he doing? The invader glanced up at the screen. Oh, that was it.
The POINT, Hyuman, is that… I have a function, which requires attendance. Particularly the attendance of another HYUMAN child. With me. Just me. At a place. Together.
You want me to be your DATE?
My, he caught on quickly. What's the problem, filth-beast? Don't you WANT to go on a date?
Well, yeah, but not with you!
Have squirrels nested in your cranial lobe? Why would you NOT wish to venture out in public with the glory of ZIM?
Because, The human paused for a moment, searching for a good reason, we're mortal enemies!
Dib. We're on truce right now.
I don't even like you!
Oh, come ON. Everyone lurves Zim.
Well maybe I just don't want to go with you!
And who ELSE are you going to go with?
Dib didn't reply. My, aren't the walls vertical today?
It'll be fun! And besides, you don't even know where it is, the spaceman continued doggedly.
...Where?
It's at a meuseam... museum... thing. A Brief History of the Dead!
The exhibit on Ghosts?!
Exactly, the alien grinned. Like a smeet in a armory, he thought gleefully.
But how the heck did you get tickets? And why do you need a date, on top of that?
Eh...
-Flashback!-
"Zim!" called the older man, tugging at his thinned hair, "Zim! Mister... ah... Yohanasburgenstein?"
The invader had made up that name when he started middle school three years ago. He was quite proud of it.
"Yeeees... whadaya want?" whined the hyperactive student.
"You seem to be having some trouble communicating with your peers, Zim. Is there anything you want to talk about?" simpered the teacher.
"I HAVE NOTHING TO CONFESS!" screeched the invading terror. "There is no impending doom and I am not gathering secret data for an extraterrestrial military invasion!"
"Oh, of course you aren't, silly. I mean, how are things at home? How are your parents?" the man zeroed in with a sickly-compassionate smile.
"Um..." Zim considered the Robotic 'adults', now locked in a comfy padded cell since the last attempted coop de ta. "They're fine."
"I don't believe you!" the man informed him happily, "but as a public school teacher, I have no legal way to control you in any form! So instead I'm going to give you a special assignment! Isn't that fun?"
"Oh, ah... you can't involve my parents, because... uh... they're very sick! With tuberculo... cancer."
"Oh. That's very sad." the educational drone dropped his smile for a moment, then lit up twice as bright, "Then you can prove nothing is wrong with YOU!"
Zim crossed his arms. "How?"
"The magic of social popularity! I just happen to have two extra tickets to the museum opening Saturday. If you can get a date to go with you, I'll lay off your case!" Something sinister crept into his gleeful tones, "If you don't show, I give you a detention for something you didn't do!"
The world went dark for a moment and the classroom burst into hellfire and flames. The 'human's eyes glowed spookily. "AND STEAL YOUR IMMORTAL SOUL!"
"ZIM HAS NO SOUL!"
-end flashback-
... I found them in a watermelon.
Gir burst in the door to the secret lair with a teapot on his head, thoroughly distracting the ADHD alien. Minimoose floated beside him with a plate of toast.
"Ask da milky-man if he wants some TOAST!" shrilled Zim's defective servant.
"He's not here, he can't eat your filthy toast!" groaned the alien.
"B-but..." the robot's eyes filled with tears, "I maded dem speeeeecial..."
"No, c'mon, don't cry soldier..." the scourge of the Irken Empire vainly tried to stop his underling from crying like a rainstorm. " Look, I'll... uh... Send it to him through the internet! Yeah." his eyes flickered back and forth nervously.
"Yay!" the android brightened instantly.
"Phew." Zim glanced back at the screen, where a message from Dib awaited him.
Say what?
Nevermind, the irken replied, are you going with me or not?
Well... the human teen paused to think about it.
"On the one hand, " he mused aloud, "I really want to see that exhibit, and Dad would never buy me tickets... On the other hand, people will think I'm dating Zim... but on the third hand, what's so terrible about that? I've never cared what people think."
Dib paced for a minute, tapping his pen to his lips automatically.
"I mean, they don't believe he's an alien, so nobody's going to scream 'XENOPHILE!'." (That was a word he picked up in the shadier corners of the Swollen Eye Network.) "And I have been looking for a way to come out without embarrassing myself to hell and back..."
Then pen stilled it's frantic motion.
Alright, meet me here at nine tomorrow night the paranormalist typed.
"After all," he muttered to himself, "Spending time with Zim is usually fun... er... informative. Yeah."
"Stop ANGSTING, you whiner!" came a deafening shout from the other room.
ps. It's freaky how Gaz can hear me from across the hall
From across the hall: "I HEARD THAT!"
!
so... yeah. that wasn't very long. Sorry. But I'm kinda stuck in this other story I'm writing--Death Note AU. And Animehpgurl has suckered me into writing more Bevin. And here I thought I was doing this as a relaxing hobby... oh well. More soonish
p.s. you know, I'm still open to theories if you have any.
comments? Critique?