Hello hello hello! Hope everyone had a very IZ-filled holiday. I am sad to announce my status as the only IZ fan on the planet who did not receive an IZ T-shirt for Christmas. To compensate, I drove my relatives to the very brink of madness with my cousin's karaoke machine. God, I love those things.
Zim stepped out of the garbage can, and made his way through the kitchen. He glared at the boxes as he reentered the living room. Gir had torn open many of the packages, and the floor was strewn with Styrofoam peanuts.
"Gir! Put on your disguise. I must pay a visit to the telemarketers."
Gir saluted. "Yes, my master!"
He pulled the green dog suit over his head. Zim put on his alternative old-man disguise, consisting of a beard, brown coat, platform shoes, and a hat with a flower stuck in it. He grabbed Gir's leash and yanked open the door.
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!
An avalanche of letters poured from the open doorway, completely burying Zim. He scrambled out from beneath the enormous pile. He plucked an envelope from his hat and read the back of it. Zim screamed again, and threw the letter down quickly.
"THE MADNESS!"
It was an advertisement for Instant Creepy Chihuahua-in-a-Can. (Just add water.) A picture on the back of the envelope featured a very mangy looking Chihuahua with a bite taken out of one ear. The rest of the letters were similar advertisements, featuring equally useless products. Some of the standouts included New and Improved Acne Blast, Poop Cola action figures, and some Japanese corporation that sold rocks.
"The telemarketers!" Zim growled. "Filth. Come along Gir."
He pulled Gir's leash, dragging the small robot through the door. Gir giggled, and stuffed a handful of junk mail into his mouth as he slid through the pile.
Halfway down the street, Dib was not happy. Far from it, actually. He was out of breath, scratched, and pretty much dissatisfied with life in general. Part of this was due to the fact that he was crouching in a rather small and prickly bush trying to stay hidden, while simultaneously attempting to peer at Zim's house through a very large and bulky pair of high-powered binoculars. The other part of his misery could be attributed to the fact that Ms. Bitters had given him detention, again, for fighting with Zim in class. Dib had spent the last three hours scraping ketchup and rice off the cafeteria walls with a sponge smaller than his thumbnail. Zim, naturally, got off scot-free. Dib scanned the street with his binoculars. Nothing. He was beginning to wonder if he was wasting his time. After all, he—waitaminute—what was that?
A figure was emerging from Zim's yard. Make that two figures. The first seemed to be an old man. The second appeared to be an animal of some sort. Dib fiddled with a knob on the binoculars. The view zoomed in. The old man was dressed in an old brown coat and a ridiculous flowered hat. He had green skin. A small green dog was trotting in front of him.
"Zim!" Dib whispered to himself. "What on Earth does he think he's doing?"
By this point Zim and Gir were almost level with Dib. Dib leaped dramatically out from the bush. Or at least he tried to. His foot caught on an inconveniently placed root, and he sprawled most ungracefully and undramatically on the ground in front of Zim.
Zim's eyes widened in shock, but he said nothing. He was confident that his brilliant disguise, created by the most superior Irken technology, was more than adequate to fool the inferior Dib-human.
Dib scrambled to his feet. "Zim!"
Zim looked at him in mock surprise and confusion, "What? Who are you little worm baby? I know not of any Zim."
"Oh come on, Zim. You think that pathetic disguise is really going to fool me? What are you up to? And what is with that hat?"
Zim narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "You have a twig in your hair."
"Oh, thanks." Dib plucked out the twig and tossed it away. "Hey, wait a second! Zim, what evil are you planning now?"
"I told you. I am not this Zim of whom you speak. I am just a simple human old-monkey, walking my ordinary human dog."
Gir grinned and waved at Dib.
"You've got to be kidding me. How stupid do you think I am?"
Zim bit back a retort and smiled as sickeningly sweet as he was able.
Dib, realizing that conversation was getting him nowhere, reached forward and snatched Zim's hat off, revealing his antennae.
"Hey! Human stink, return my disguise at once!"
"Don't think so Zim. Not until you tell me exactly what you're planning."
Zim looked around nervously. It was only a matter of time before another human passing by saw him without his disguise. He shuddered as visions of himself, strapped to an autopsy table with Dib laughing triumphantly in the background, flitted through his brain.
"Fine," he agreed grumpily. "But first you have to return my human head covering."
"No," Dib replied. "Talk first."
Zim growled in annoyance. "What if someone passing by sees me?"
Dib grinned wickedly. "Guess you better talk fast then, alien."
Zim muttered something unintelligible. "Very well. I'm going to destroy the telemarketers."
Dib stared openmouthed. "What?"
Zim took advantage of Dib's confusion to snatch back his hat, and settle it firmly over his antennae. Dib, still staring, barely noticed.
"Oh, and don't bother trying to stop me. You'd only fail miserably. Come on Gir." He tugged Gir's leash and continued walking.
"Why's his head so big, why's his head so big?"
"Quiet, Gir."
Dib shook himself to clear his head. "I have to stop him. But…but…they're telemarketers! If I let him go, Zim will win. But if I stop him, the Earth is doomed to an eternity of obnoxious phone calls and junk mail! What should I do? Wait! I know! I'll go to the Swollen Eyeballs site! I can ask my fellow agents for help! Geez, I really gotta stop talking to myself."
Dib, still muttering softly, headed back towards the Membrane house, and the nearest Internet link-up.
By the time Dib reached his house, Zim was already several blocks away, in the city's commercial district. He was gazing upward at a very tall building. It was at least 100 stories high, but instead of being constructed of that shiny, black, one-way glass commonly seen in high-rises, it was made entirely of concrete. There were no windows. The telemarketing executives had long ago decided that things like windows, and the fresh air and sunlight usually associated with them, were nothing but a source of distraction for employees. So, in a bold distraction-cutting maneuver, all windows were removed from the building. Productivity soared. Surprisingly enough, at-work suicide rates dropped dramatically. This had little to do with moral, and a lot more to do with the fact that it is pretty much physically impossible to jump out a concrete wall.
Right now, however, what attracted Zim's attention was not the building's lack of amenities. Rather, it was the thousands of telephone lines hooked up to the roof of the building. Every few minutes, a power surge would crackle down one of the lines. It was a very unnerving sight.
Zim was not going to allow himself to be unnerved by any feeble human construction.
"Gir, let's go!" he snapped.
With Gir trotting happily in front of him, Zim stepped through the revolving glass to the lobby.
Oooo, what's going to happen next? Will Zim destroy the telemarketers? Will Dib enlist the help of the Swollen Eyeballs? No one knows, not even me. When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know. Till then, thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially those who sent suggestions! Instant Creepy Chihuahua in a Can, New and Improved Acne Blast, and the Poop Cola merchandise belong to ChocoRacer. The weird rock-selling company belongs to Irken Insane. Thanks again for the suggestions guys! More bizarre companies submitted by people who are not me will be seen in my next chapter! Hooray!
