Chapter 11: Of Leeches and Liars (The Lies We Weave Are Oh So Intricate)
"Okay, follow my lead. Keep your lies minimal," Dib ordered. "I'll try to block him off and redirect him the best I can."
Zim fitted the contacts back into his head and adjusted his wig into place. The base beyond the elevator blurred by in its Irken pinks and violets, Dib's psychobabble melding with it.
"—So, try not to let his insults affect you. Oh, and if he touches you, make sure they stay no longer than seven seconds or he'll learn too much. Scream if you have to, just—pretend your skin hurts or something."
Zim heard him, but his mind was more set on the strange issues with his security system, and had wandered further after that, leaving Dib's mind to venture off course as well.
'I… am fearless. Fearless Dib,' he told himself. 'I just have to keep it straight, get this over with, and then I will have porkchops for dinner!'
'…Why haven't I started using that head as a storage unit?!' Zim wondered. But there was little time to linger on any of these things as the elevator telltale slowed to housing level.
Dib's eyes hardened and he righted his shoulders. "Above all else: show no fear."
"HA! Fear." He sneered. "The mighty Irken race doesn't know the meaning of—"
The elevator opened and just like that, Zim's words curdled on his tongue.
His house was now the stage to a horror scene.
The TV fizzled without its channels. Minimoose was lying on the floor.
Every surface of his home was covered in leeches.
They were everywhere. Thick, slimy, bloodsucking things, stretching and pulling over every wall and wire, feasting on Minimoose's insides…
Even Gir smiled from the couch with the terrible parasites burrowed into his face, each one squirming in the sick TV glow.
"It tickles… and hurts!" he informed. And then he went slack, just like Minimoose, the light gone from his eyes.
Zim backed into the elevator and with hardly a fight, his hand found Dib's.
No words were necessary. However their true feelings for one another, for now, they were partners. Ill devised, but a unit.
Dib deadpanned and released his fingers. "Dr. DeLeech!"
His yell snapped Zim from his horrified trance. And the leeches were gone.
Dib wasted no time, sweeping ahead to the kitchen, moving with a cold-cut grace almost unnatural of him. And Zim didn't like it.
It only punctuated the sick-bellied spookiness of it all, but he quickly found his wits. He had to. The robo-parents were introducing their uninvited guest to his sink.
"If ya want, we can let the garbage disposal massage your face!" Robo-mom shrieked and with a twisted grin, cranked it on to demonstrate.
"That is true exfoliation, honey!" Robo-dad agreed.
"MOM! Dad!" Zim barked above noise.
The garbage disposal cut off, and all eyes turned on them.
Zim got a good look at him now—this Leechy human.
He was indeed tall, and without a doubt, the greasiest human he'd ever seen. His white lab coat held funny stains that reeked of old formaldehyde, and grungy dreadlocks that clung tight to his skull.
But the most unsettling thing of all was, while one of his eyes was all squinty closed, the other was gone and replaced with a camera altogether.
It made Zim want to reapply cleansing paste to himself. Repeatedly. But now was not the time.
"Why, if it isn't Membrane Experiment 436-B." The man's loupe lens fixed on Dib, turning over a corporate smile.
"You know my name is Dib."
"Hm, yes." He sniffed. "You were less mouthy in a Petri dish."
Dib glared.
"And you must be Zim." "Yes, I am the Dib-pig's love unit!" Zim yelled on the offense. "—Such romance. Such deep, torrid feelings I have! Now get out of my house."
Dib raised an eyebrow at that one. 'Torrid?' Really? What, was Zim's research based off the back-cover reviews of trashy smut novels from the eighties?
He deadpanned at the thought.
Never mind. Of course it was.
Robo-dad's circuits sparked at Zim's words. "Now, son. Is that any way to talk to our guest?!"
"We taught you manners young man!" Robo-mom scorned. "And he came all this way looking for you."
"Thaaat's right!" Robo-dad rubbed his chin. "I think you should shake hands and make up!"
Zim stared up at the grimy human. He remembered the Dib's previous warning. Something about letting the leech creature touch him.
"No, that's okay." He backed away.
"Come on, it'll be fuuuuuun!" Robo-mom pressed.
"DON'T… worry about anything," Dib intervened. "Zim and I will have a nice time. Why don't you sit out in the living room? I'll… make you some tea," he tried.
The robo-parents both paused, processing the request.
"Well, isn't that nice!" she remarked.
"You're welcome here anytime, Sport!" Robo-dad said. And with that, the two rickety-wheeled their out to the living room, sparks flying behind them.
And all pretenses dropped.
"What are you doing here, DeLeech?" Dib demanded.
"…Testy, aren't we?" the man sneered a fake kindness as he treaded the floor. "I assure you, I bring no ill intent. I simply wished to introduce myself, offer any needed assistance and be on my wayyy~ You're like a nephew to me, Dip."
"Dib," he corrected. "Look, I don't know what your angle is, but that doesn't give you the right to come here and harass my boyfriend. He's very sick."
"Yes! I AM SICK!" Zim agreed. "And ugly! You torment meee."
"Don't torment him," Dib said.
"Please leave now."
"Oh, but that's why I'm visiting~" he insisted.
"Enough visits!" Zim barked. "I need rest! And primitive sick juice for the queasy. Leave it under my mailbox. My dog will get it. Now begone."
Dr. DeLeech's camera-eye turned a strange clockwise. And suddenly he was right in front of Zim, looming over like some strange phantom vulture.
"You have very nice skin," he remarked.
Zim leapt away. "HeUH?! T-Thank you! It's very—"
Dr. DeLeech snatched Zim up by the face without another word, his wide metal-pronged hand dangling him high above the floor.
And that's when Zim felt them.
The leeches. They were there, traveling along the doctor's claw hand, wriggling across his face and into his flesh.
Zim thrashed in terror. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!"
"DeLeech, drop him!" Dib ordered.
Dr. DeLeech paused, mulling the order over, and suddenly the leeches receded, crawling up his lab coat sleeve with tiny screams until they found home, nursing from the man's scalp.
Zim shrieked upon freedom, scrambling over the kitchen chair to hide behind Dib, still watching the things slurp at the man's disgusting head.
It was so gross—so horrifyingly horrible—yet he couldn't look away…
And then Dr. DeLeech opened his one blank eye with a hum. "How interesting."
Zim shook with fear, his breath catching in little hyperventilating sputters.
One of the leeches fell to the floor. When it thrashed around with its tiny screams, Dr. DeLeech squashed it underfoot, effectively smearing its life across the kitchen floor.
"I will be brief," he went on. "My company, Mal Medical, deals in scientific TECH. I am a business man first and scientist second."
Zim didn't hear any of it, terror still mounting in his frame.
"Membrane is the biggest name in science and, quite frankly, I would like to know where it—"
"DO NOT FEAST ON MY FACE BLOOD, SUSPICIOUS SLIME WEASEL!"
Dib paused and grinned awkwardly. "…Could you give us a minute?"
He grabbed Zim by the arm and pulled him out of the room, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Okay, I know you're freaked out, but I really need you to pull yourself together."
"The leeches. My faaaace. Ssssquirming all over my incredible face! Slurped to death and drained of its delicious life fluids!"
Dib raised an eyebrow and peeked out to the kitchen where Dr. DeLeech had resumed his idle snooping, particularly fascinated with the more alien features of Zim's kitchen.
"H-He's some sort of… leech demon!" he fretted.
"Yeah!" Dib stated. "Obviously."
Zim glared. "Isn't it your job to catch these para-floral things?!"
"Paranormal. And DeLeech has too much corporate power!" he exclaimed. "His team is the one that deemed me crazy in the first place! And all because one time I tried to expose him with a tape recorder tied to a hamster. The point is, we have our objective. You want him out of your house. I want him… not… annoying me. Are you with me or not?"
Zim glanced out to the main room. "…What do you propose we do?"
"Sorry for the wait." Dib strolled into the room with a sugary fake smile, taking his seat across from Dr. DeLeech. "Now, where were we? You know, it's such a lovely day. I've been wondering how you've been!"
Dr. DeLeech scowled for a long moment and then he smiled. "Well, isn't that nice! It's been… complicated, actually—"
While he launched into his story, Zim pulled a remote control from behind his back and set to work.
The plan was that Dib would stall while he caused some sort of commotion to lure the grease man outside. Lucky for him, he still had that nuclear-powered "shaking machine" he'd planned on using on that girly ranger ages ago. He had scaled it down and added it as an accessory to the house. Perfect for making a loud stomping!
It was supposed to be a used to crush Dib into paste, but Dib never held still long enough for a proper squishening.
Zim's mind wandered a little… imagining Dib in paste form…
It… wasn't the first time he'd entertained such fantasies concerning the Dib, really. He'd look great in paste form…
Ah, well.
Zim shook the thought from his head and pushed the button.
But there was no stomping.
"HmM?!" Zim glared at the remote and pushed it again.
And again. And again and again and again…
None of the buttons were working! His Computer wasn't responding to any of his commands at all! Not only that, the buttons were kind of… gooey. And sticky.
Zim growled in frustration. He'd have to run a diagnostic!
"And what is your skin disease, Zim~?"
Zim glanced up from his remote. The DeLeech monster was staring at him.
He quickly hid the remote away. "Unnamed QRX Point Z," he recited grimly. "As far as I know, I'm the only one who has it~"
"Come," Dr. DeLeech insisted gesturing darkly to the chair in front of him. "Sit."
Zim locked eyes with Dib. There was no doubt he was just as confused as to where the distraction was, but it couldn't be helped. They couldn't afford to look any more suspicious. Also the leech man scared him. So Zim reluctantly took the seat beside Dib, boots squeaking every step.
"Now," Dr. DeLeech said. "Tell me more."
That camera eye zeroed in close and Zim sat straighter in his seat.
Dib could tell he was scared. "It's a terrible… autoimmune… slash skin disease," he prompted.
"Yes! Yes, it is! Sooooo very horrible," Zim agreed, checking the remote beneath the table. "Eh, it's a wonder I have so much—MUCUS?!"
He froze, realizing he had screamed that last part.
"A… side effect of my skin disease!" he covered. "Yes! LOAAAADS of mucus! It hardly ever stops! Please, don't let my mucus interrupt. It is verrry normal~"
He bolted from his seat, running to read the report and was horrified by what he found.
Leech goo?! In the Computer's circuits?! Oh, that was just disgusting!
Now what was he going to do? His henchmen were useless… His computer was down… And the robo-parents…
Zim scowled at the thought.
No. They were guaranteed to make things worse. He growled in a fit of frustration, mashing the buttons for any response at all.
And unfortunately he got his wish.
Suddenly his giant Doom-monger Death Drill dropped down from the ceiling, whirring dangerously close to the back of DeLeech's head.
Dib pounded the table, clearing his throat over the noise. "HUhhH! DeLeech! What amazing new… stuff… has your team been inventing lately?!"
Zim scrambled with the controls until the drill finally folded away, leaving DeLeech to stare at the wires above.
"If you are wondering about the ceiling, my first parents were scientists!" Zim said. "They gave everything they could to find a cure and then exploded into a billion tiny chunks~"
"He's adopted," Dib said.
"Now all I have is my dog, my parents and my supreme undying life-tolerance for Dib—who is just—so supportive of my endeavors."
Dib forced a smile. "…What can I say? He's my angel."
"I am an angel," Zim agreed.
Just as he said that, the Spinny-Saw of Serrated Suffering sprang from the wall.
Zim rushed quick to shut it off, but there was no hiding it this time.
"Those are just my tools for, um, gardening!" he covered, shoving it back into the wall. "Boy, do I sure love gardening!"
"That's… right!" Dib said. "But… I have a feeling Zim isn't feeling so well…."
That camera eye turned in suspicion. "…What do you harvest this time of year?"
"…Cheeseburgers."
"HA! HA HA!" Dib put a tight, warning arm around Zim's shoulders. "That's Zim! Such a sweet, satirical sense of humor! Isn't… that right… honey?"
Zim squirmed under his touch with poorly concealed revulsion. "Oh-ho ho, Dib~" He vice-gripped the offending hand, leaning into his ear. "Touch me again and I'll use your hide as a doormat."
"HERE IS MY PROBLEM." Dr. DeLeech dropped his clawed fist to the table with a terrible thunk, making them jolt in their seats. "Your father's medical archives contain a record of every human in existence. I designed them myself. THEY ARE PERFECT!Yet there is not one record of any human by the name 'Zim'." He leaned in. "Why is that?"
Dread creeped to Dib's stomach. "Um… well… you see…"
"Thaaat's not my birth name~" Zim lied. "It's… something else! I've… always been known as Zim, but my real name is eh… BILLY! Yes. Billy McHuman!"
Dib held his breath as Dr. DeLeech ran a check for the name on a small floating screen.
And a single result appeared.
Apparently, there was a real Billy McHuman. It looked nothing like Zim, but…
Zim smiled. "Mhm. That's what I looked like before the skin disease."
"Fascinating…"
"Yyyyep! All the rumors are true!" Dib rushed out of his seat. "That's Billy McHuman, I'm with Zim and I'm turning down everything with Membrane Empires! So if that answers all of your questions—"
"Actually, it answers none of them," Dr. DeLeech's strange claw snagged along the table's surface.
"You are seriously ruining my table," Zim pointed out.
"If what you are saying is true," he continued, "then taking over your father's company would only benefit you. Turning it down would be downright IN-SAAAANE~"
That drove a certain kind of fear into Dib. People called him insane on a daily basis, but no one said it like Dr. DeLeech. To him, it was an echo of every time he'd been dragged to the Crazy House for Boys.
They kept him in a padded room! And went on about how his head was so big! And the worst part was they took his socks! He couldn't do that again.
"But he's not insane!" Zim chimed. "He… simply wants to prove himself by his own merit!" He nodded at the lie. "Yes. He has used ALL of his father's resources, but it just… isn't enough~" He clutched his chest sadly. "…My only wish now is that Dib follows his dreams~"
"You're supposed to be distracting," Dib hissed.
"Oh, yeah." Zim threw himself over the table into a dramatic swoon, leaving Dib to suppress another oncoming headache.
This was just so stupid!
Why were they even doing any of this?! And then something occurred to him.
"Wait a minute, why bother Zim with all this? You could have just asked my dad."
Dr. DeLeech paused at that, and then a grimy smirk spread across his features.
"Well, since you're so ill informed..." He rose to his feet, rounding his chair. "As of yesterday morning, my company has been fully endorsed by Cortex."
Dib froze in his seat.
Dr. DeLeech smiled. "The madam sends her regards."
"…Is… that right…?"
Zim peeked an eye open from his swooning to see the color drained from Dib's face.
"Mm." Dr. DeLeech procured an envelope from his breast pocket and pushed it into Dib's hands. "To quote," he continued:
"'If you need assistance outside your overcompensating windbag of a father and need someone competent concerning the boyfriend, any rivalry will assuredly be set aside for the betterment of health and science. This offer extends both to Dib himself and especially Gazlene'."
Dib read the letter over and blinked in surprise. "Huh. 'Overcompensating windbag.' That's pretty nice of her."
"I know, right? I was surprised too," DeLeech remarked.
"I saw a cheeseburger once~"
Dib and Zim's eyes widened at the voice.
Gir was suddenly in the room, leaning into Dr. DeLeech munching some bacon with a very matter-of-fact look on his face.
His very undisguised, robot-looking face.
"GIR!" Zim yelled. "I thought you were broken!"
Gir thought it over and shrugged. "I got better."
Dr. DeLeech leaned in scrutinizing the robot up close. "What in the world is this?!"
Dib panicked, leaping from his seat. "Nothing!"
"Everything is normal!" Zim scrambled over, completely abandoning his previous fainting ploy.
"He's just… an artificial intelligence robot," Dib explained, "that… I made… to help Zim."
"No you didn't~" Gir said.
"Yes! Yes, he did!" Zim proclaimed loudly, hiding Gir behind his back. "His name is… Antoine! And he's stupid!"
"VERY stupid," Dib insisted.
Gir toddled out from behind Zim's back, staring at Dr. DeLeech. The man quirked his strange eye down at the robot.
"Hmmmmm, he does look stupid," he admitted.
Gir cocked his head at Dr. DeLeech, then he smiled. "I like you~" His tongue lolled out from his mouth and he immediately began stroking the man's face with the last piece of bacon.
"I made him as a companion for when I'm away~" Dib put on the most heartfelt face he could manage. "So Zim is… never alone~"
"Yes! Boy, do I love him... And Dib." Zim forced a large, soured smile.
Really, he was reaching his limit.
"I thought Dib was bad and greasy~" Gir said.
"Well, you are wrong." Zim gritted his teeth. "I—" He cringed, trying not to be sick with his next words. "I luh—" He gagged and let out a whine.
Dib swallowed. "Yeah, he loves me."
Zim nearly wretched but swallowed it down with an upset nod.
"Awwwww~ Did ya hear that, honey?!" Robo-mom shrieked from the doorway. "Our little Zimmy-kins is in love~"
"Oh sweet Tallest no."
But it was no use. Both the robo-parents had wheeled back in to Zim and Dib's hapless horror.
"Well, I just had no idea~" Robo-dad said wistfully."Our son is growing up."
"And he's so handsome~"
Zim held his head in his hands.
Tallest, why would this day's horrors not end?!
"Mom, Dad. Don't do this. Please. I beg of you."
"Smiiiiile~" Robo-mom cooed.
The room flashing as she snapped a picture, tilting her comically obnoxious camera for the optimum shot.
Gir wiped a happy tear from his eye.
Dib regretted not throwing himself into that claw machine when he'd had the chance.
After a few more pride-obliterating pictures, Robo-mom wedged by Gir and Dr. DeLeech for a better close up. "Now, let's see a kiss~"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Zim yelled, smacking the camera out of their hands, turning his burnt fuse on them all. "YOU get out of my house. YOU get in my closet. AND YOU," he turned on Dib. "If I didn't need you to get out of this I swear I would staple your face to a garbage truck. COMPUTER, remove his head!"
The computer didn't respond.
"COMPUTER!" he repeated. "UGH! Why must I do everything-?"
He reached into his PAK, punching buttons into his remote.
"Hey, no way!" Dib launched over to snatch it from his hands.
Zim snarled as Dib kicked him in the head, knocking his wig and contacts askew. Soon it was an all-out brawl, leaping, grabbing, shoving, mashing buttons all the way.
The toaster popped out of the wall.
The can opener popped out of the toilet.
A panel in the wall started shooting Gir's secret collection of rubber ducks.
"What is going on here?!" Dr. DeLeech demanded as another squeaking duck pelted him in the face.
But Zim and Dib hardly heard.
Dib landed a kick Zim him in the head, crushing the remote beneath him, turning the garbage disposal turned on.
The robo parents delighted in the noise.
"Let me help you~" Robo-mom grinned to Dr. DeLeech, picking him up high over her head, carrying him out to the sink.
"Hey! Put me down!" Dr. DeLeech wailed.
"FOOL!" Zim snarled in Dib's face. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"
"ME?! What about YOU?!"
"DUCK TOAST!" Gir shrieked.
Neither noticed the actions of the Robo-parents or Dr. DeLeech. By the time they had, it was too late.
"You're going to feel like a new man~" Robo-mom shrieked.
There was no stopping it. By the time Dib was on his feet, the Robo-parents violently stuffed Dr. DeLeech screaming into the sink, face-first into the garbage disposal.
Dib tried to scream, but he couldn't. They just kept on pushing.
They pushed until the screaming stopped, and there was no trace of the man but his shoes.
The remote sparked out and the room was quiet, the gruesome scene finally subdued.
Zim was the first to speak. "…Huh. Didn't think he'd fit in there."
Another silence followed.
...
"Well, that takes care of that!" Zim spun around with a satisfied flair, removing the rest of his disguise.
"No, it doesn't!" Dib wailed.
"Why not? I'm sure he'll end up in the city's cess pool. He'll be fiiiiiiiine. Or he won't."
"Zim that's—people will come looking for him…"
He cocked his head. "I haven't seen him, have you?"
Dib was speechless.
"New rule: if it can't be solved with extortion or throwing it down the drain, do not bother me."
"You're insane!" Dib yelled.
"I'm effective," he corrected. "Now shoo. I refuse to look at you anymore. Really. I think it's giving me a hate rash."
"You know what?! Gladly!" Dib stomped out and slammed the door behind him.
Zim turned around on the damage.
Everything was a mess.
There was burnt toast and ducks on the floor. The kitchen smelled like gore and burnt rubber for some reason…
…Oh. Gir was roasting a rubber ducky over the toaster again.
Suddenly the house shook as the shaking machine ignited its mechanical stomping.
"Oh, now it works!" Zim frowned at it all and spun on his heel. "Come on Gir, we're going to fix the computer."
Gir paused and toddled after, dragging his snack behind him. "…I've got a rubber ducky on a stick!"
