/056. Breakfast.
Dib realized emo had gone too far when even WAFFLES made him sad. Oh, sure, on the surface they were just nice, fluffy waffles, that he'd mixed up himself because he thought that some good solid home-made breakfast food might cheer him up. But the thing was, they reminded him of victory... ZIM'S victories. ZIM, eating WAFFLES, and no one else believing him about it! Oh, the humanity! So instead of eating the waffles that he'd gotten up SPECIALLY to make, he just stared at them on his plate, poking them and brooding. BROODING.
Gaz came downstairs twenty minutes after him. The waffles were cold, the butter congealed; and still Dib sat, glaring down at them as if the bready little pastries had personally offended him. Insulted his head or his mother or something.
His sister poured herself some orange juice and stuck two pop tarts in the toaster. Then she sat at the table with her brother and her game slave, eying him discretely. Dib didn't even look up at her; he just frowned down at his food, beginning to shred the edge of one waffle with a fork.
"Are you going to eat those?" she asked.
"Nnngh."
Gaz raised an eyebrow. "Did Zim infiltrate your bedroom last night and implant a swarming hive of nanobots into your intestines?"
"Nnngh."
...Okay. He was brooding about something. Time to restore Dib to a reassuringly normal level of obnoxiousness by giving him some helpful advice.
"You know, if you mix some of the super-fertilizer Dad's developing with some water and splashed it on Zim, I bet all of the floating spores in the air would leech onto him and grow into a veritable jungle of greenery."
Dib's eyes brightened. He pushed the plate of waffles away and padded downstairs to the basement.
Gaz leaned over and poked at the food. Eww. Congealed butter.