"I knew it!!!" Zim shouted upon entering.

"GIR, what have you done to these humans, pathetic stinkbeasts as they are?"

"I slapped them repeatedly with rubber pigeons," said GIR happily, gorging himself on taquitos.

Dib thought for a minute. He didn't really know whether to continue on his way to the sci-fi convention, or stay and watch the events unfold. Finally, seven of his brain cells exploded, and he exclaimed, "I'm gonna go get me some walrus candy!" With that, he turned around and ran out the door.

Zim chose to ignore this. "GIR, were you also responsible for the demise of 24 lumberjacks?"

"Yes! Wait a minute.....no." Inside GIR's mind, (if you can call random pieces of garbage a mind) something snapped. Zim's disguise-wig-thingy had apparently fallen off when he had run to the taco place. Those Irken antennae began to look strangely like long, tantalizing licorice whips. GIR fell into a hypnotic state. "Ooh....pretty licorice whips attached to Master's head..."

"No Gir! No! NOOOOOOOOO!!!" screamed Zim. Dib heard Zim's screams down the street from the taco place. Dib shrugged his shoulders and continued on his way to the Sci-fi convention, although his brain cried out for Walrus candy.

Zim threw Gir off of him and got to his feet. His Irken antenna's were thankfully still attached to his oversized green head. GIR saw a plaid coat laying on the floor. His homicidal personality was one again set off. GIR ran from the taco shop and towards a hardware store. Zim, as usual was too late. When he finally got to the hardware store, all the customers and employees had been horribly murdered with various tools. Zim found Gir in front of a staticy television. "I love this show," he happily announced.

"GIR! I can't let you do this! I'm going to drag you back to the base, now, and do something about your A.I. chip and fix your thing for plaid and flannel!" Zim said, hauling GIR out of the store by leash. As they walked outside, they were near enough to the sci-fi convention, and GIR lost it, though in his regular personality.

"CONVENTION!!!!" squealed GIR overexcitedly.

"No, GIR," said Zim, pulling in the other direction. Meanwhile, Ms. Bitters was on a sugar high, and came slithering down the street toward Zim, Gir, and Dib, who was in line in front of the convention's entrance doors.

"NONSENSICAL POPCORN JUICE!" she screamed hoarsely. "HAVE YOU THE POISONOUS DOLPHINS?? LET US DISMANTLE MY EYES!" "I'm thinking we should run," said Zim, turning and running with GIR toward the convention.

Zim and Gir ran into the convention, where horror immediately swept over him. They were surrounded by hopeless, snotty-nosed, stuttering nerds!

"Hey...He's...he-he-he's green!" exclaimed on of the nerds, referring to Zim.

"Gir, slowly back away..." instructed Zim. "Gir..." Zim looked around. "Gir..." Zim looked around in a panic.

He found Gir in front of the T.V, watching an post-apocolyptic soap opera from New Zealand otherwise known as "The Tribe."

"I love this show," said Gir.

"Gir! We have to go now! Before we end up on a live version of Alien Autopsy Dismemberment 2000!" exclaimed Zim.