My thanks to all of the reviewers! Hmm. As for GIR dancing around, singing
"Half Light" with Indrid Cold, I'm going to write something similar to
that. It will be at the end of this story, posted after the final chapter.
You wait and see. I'm listening to "Half Light" right now, in fact. Yay.
"The Mothman Prophecies" is worth checking out, if you haven't seen it. For maximum effect, watch the show by yourself in the middle of the night.
I'd like to read the book, but I haven't yet. Okay, let's continue.
Disclaimer: With the exception of Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones, I own things not.
Chapter Two: Mind Tricks
It was midnight when Dib finally came inside. He was elated. For once he should have decent proof of a paranormal phenomenon. No one would call him crazy anymore.
Gaz was still awake, sitting in front of the television, focused as usual on her Game Slave 2. She didn't pay Dib any attention as he walked upstairs.
Dib found an empty film canister on the desk by his computer. He snapped open the back of the camera to remove the wondrous film he'd just spent - and was horribly disappointed. The film had been burned for no apparent reason. There were holes in some of the negatives, framed by crispy edges. Other parts had been turned bright shades of red.
He set the film next to the canister, half angry, half worried. This Mothman was either trying to convey messages of doom or play mind tricks with random people. At this point, Dib didn't know. He didn't like not knowing.
~
The Scary Monkey marathon was still going strong. GIR stared at the television as though transfixed. He'd gone through roughly fourteen Chocolate Bubble Gum Brainfreezies, but didn't seem to notice. The theme of yet another episode began and GIR grinned blissfully.
The phone rang again. GIR couldn't have been happier. "MAH HOMIE'S CALLIN' ME BACK!!!" he announced to no one, before leaping up and trotting over to the phone. "Did ya get the tacos and stuffs that I wanted.?"
He only received a strange series of beeps as a reply. GIR took this as an invitation to dance and began doing so. "I'm dancing!"
"I know you are." There was that voice again. That decidedly inhuman voice.
"Will you be my friend?" inquired GIR.
"In your world, everything is your friend, is it not? Do not move. Do not fall asleep. Wait for me." The voice trailed off and was gone.
GIR hadn't seemed to notice that the conversation was over. He still held the phone, which had intoned: "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try your call again. If you need help, call your operator for assistance." Finally GIR hung up the phone.
The instant he did so, the neighborhood went black with a power outage.
~
This disturbed Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. He was deathly afraid of the unknown, and being alone in the dark seemed to strengthen the power this fear had over him. Especially since he'd just been hysterically weeping tears of blood for the last few hours.
He glanced nervously around his kitchen, where he had been in the process of picking his wedgie. A few red lights flashed in the distance as he looked out the window. The only source of light now was the moon. Sid Jones might have liked the moon, if it had not been for his overwhelming fear that it should someday fall out of orbit and come hurtling toward Earth, resulting in the end of the world.
He sat on the dusty linoleum floor of his kitchen, backed into the lower cupboards, and curled into a ball, as though this would protect him from anything malicious. He heard a fizzling sound coming from the wall closest to him. "SHAVE ME!!!" he shouted with surprise. A thin line of green drool slid down Sid's chin as he became delirious with fright and other such things. He felt a moth crawl into his belly button.
"HORTICULTURE!!!" Sid screamed, clawing at his clothing, trying to be rid of the moth.
~
"WHO DARES INVOKE THE WRATH OF ZIIIIM???!!!" shrieked the Irken himself, very angry in his underground labs that the power should shut down just as he was succeeding at the installation of the bad temperament trait in his evil moose army. "Eh.I suppose I'll just have to use the generator then."
Zim tried to navigate his way to the generator on the opposite side of the room. If the power wouldn't work, he'd be stuck on this lab level. He found the generator in the dark and turned it on, waiting for the lights to flicker back into function. But they didn't.
"Stupid thing," muttered Zim, kicking the electricity generator as though that would achieve anything.
The generator still refused to function. Yet the lights flickered on again, as well as every other electrical item in the darkened neighborhood.
~
Upstairs, GIR had fallen asleep, in spite of the fact that Indrid's message had ordered him not to. Without the Scary Monkey Show playing on the television, he had nothing else to do. So he slept. As electric juice began flowing through the TV cords again, he awakened.
Almost instantly after the power returned, the doorbell rang. Outside stood a tall, thin man - or at least he looked human - dressed completely in black. The trench coat he wore made him look a little intimidating. GIR answered the doorbell's ring.
Zim's computer had alerted him that someone was within the vicinity of the base, and he had consequently taken an elevator to the ground level to see who was there and why.
He entered the living room to see GIR having a nonsensical conversation with a strange guy in black. "Who are you?!!" he demanded upon seeing the odd visitor.
GIR turned to his master and smiled cheerfully. "This is Indrid! He's my friieend."
"Okayyy," muttered Zim. "GIR, quit befriending humans and bringing them into the base! The mission is at stake here!"
"I'm not human," said Indrid quietly. With that, he seemed to vanish into a void of blinding white light, leaving a creepy, "V"-shaped burn on the wall. The light seemed to implode upon itself, leaving no trace of anything ever happening. Except for the wall burn.
Zim stared at the space that this "Indrid" being had just occupied. He then stared at his android slave, wanting an explanation.
GIR tilted his head to look at Zim from a bizarre angle, his tongue hanging out as he smiled.
~
It was almost 1:00 am. It was now Saturday morning. Dib hurriedly searched through every one of his old magazines chronicling paranormal happenings. He hoped he'd find forgotten information about the Mothman. Giving up, he decided the Internet would be a better place to look. He had the misfortune to come across a site set up by Agent Dark Booty. It wouldn't have been so bad, but all it consisted of was a set of drawn pictures of the Mothman, line dancing with government officials from Area 51, talking with someone about politics over a glass of orange juice, and flying away to live with manta rays off the coast of Hawaii.
To top it all off, there was a poem on the bottom of the web page. It read:
"Recognition, Malnutrition, Concentration, Demonstration, Comprehension, Misconception, Observe my nosehairs of doom."
Dib wondered if Agent Dark Booty was mentally ill. He pushed his chair away from the desk, traumatized enough for one evening.
But the words on the screen suddenly seemed to melt into nothing. Dib shook his head, suddenly sure that something was playing mind tricks with him. The site might not have really existed, for all he knew. Then he heard the voice in the back of his head again. It hissed messages of an explosion resulting in fifteen deaths. He'd already heard this, but the words seemed to be getting faster, more urgent.
Dib moved closer to the computer again, logging into the Swollen Eyeball network.
Agent Dark Booty's silhouette appeared on the screen.
"This is Agent Mothman," said Dib quietly. "Did you create a Mothman site with a bizarre poem on the bottom of the home page?"
Agent Dark Booty appeared surprised. "No. Why?"
"I'm seeing things. I saw the Mothman again tonight. I thought I had photographic evidence that it exists now, but the film was burned. Now something's trying to tell me that there's going to be an explosion, and fifteen people will die," replied Dib anxiously. "You believe me, right?"
Dark Booty sighed. "Of course I believe you. My phone line has been strange all day."
"I wish I knew what it meant."
"Don't we all?" replied Dark Booty.
~
Gaz was downstairs, playing her video game. It seemed as though she wouldn't be satisfied until her thumbs bled. Naturally, she was very irritated when the phone rang. Who would call at this time of night? Professor Membrane always used holograms. It wouldn't stop ringing.
Finally, Gaz paused her game, her eyes twitching with pure hatred, and jerked the phone line out of the wall. Somewhat happier, she sat down to continue the game. She was, after all, so very close to the final boss. The phone began ringing again. The same phone whose cord had just been disconnected.
~
Twelve streets away, a horde of cannibalistic mimes wallowed in a pit of mayonnaise.
~
The plot will become more coherent as the story progresses. Sorry if it's not meaning much right now.
"The Mothman Prophecies" is worth checking out, if you haven't seen it. For maximum effect, watch the show by yourself in the middle of the night.
I'd like to read the book, but I haven't yet. Okay, let's continue.
Disclaimer: With the exception of Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones, I own things not.
Chapter Two: Mind Tricks
It was midnight when Dib finally came inside. He was elated. For once he should have decent proof of a paranormal phenomenon. No one would call him crazy anymore.
Gaz was still awake, sitting in front of the television, focused as usual on her Game Slave 2. She didn't pay Dib any attention as he walked upstairs.
Dib found an empty film canister on the desk by his computer. He snapped open the back of the camera to remove the wondrous film he'd just spent - and was horribly disappointed. The film had been burned for no apparent reason. There were holes in some of the negatives, framed by crispy edges. Other parts had been turned bright shades of red.
He set the film next to the canister, half angry, half worried. This Mothman was either trying to convey messages of doom or play mind tricks with random people. At this point, Dib didn't know. He didn't like not knowing.
~
The Scary Monkey marathon was still going strong. GIR stared at the television as though transfixed. He'd gone through roughly fourteen Chocolate Bubble Gum Brainfreezies, but didn't seem to notice. The theme of yet another episode began and GIR grinned blissfully.
The phone rang again. GIR couldn't have been happier. "MAH HOMIE'S CALLIN' ME BACK!!!" he announced to no one, before leaping up and trotting over to the phone. "Did ya get the tacos and stuffs that I wanted.?"
He only received a strange series of beeps as a reply. GIR took this as an invitation to dance and began doing so. "I'm dancing!"
"I know you are." There was that voice again. That decidedly inhuman voice.
"Will you be my friend?" inquired GIR.
"In your world, everything is your friend, is it not? Do not move. Do not fall asleep. Wait for me." The voice trailed off and was gone.
GIR hadn't seemed to notice that the conversation was over. He still held the phone, which had intoned: "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try your call again. If you need help, call your operator for assistance." Finally GIR hung up the phone.
The instant he did so, the neighborhood went black with a power outage.
~
This disturbed Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. He was deathly afraid of the unknown, and being alone in the dark seemed to strengthen the power this fear had over him. Especially since he'd just been hysterically weeping tears of blood for the last few hours.
He glanced nervously around his kitchen, where he had been in the process of picking his wedgie. A few red lights flashed in the distance as he looked out the window. The only source of light now was the moon. Sid Jones might have liked the moon, if it had not been for his overwhelming fear that it should someday fall out of orbit and come hurtling toward Earth, resulting in the end of the world.
He sat on the dusty linoleum floor of his kitchen, backed into the lower cupboards, and curled into a ball, as though this would protect him from anything malicious. He heard a fizzling sound coming from the wall closest to him. "SHAVE ME!!!" he shouted with surprise. A thin line of green drool slid down Sid's chin as he became delirious with fright and other such things. He felt a moth crawl into his belly button.
"HORTICULTURE!!!" Sid screamed, clawing at his clothing, trying to be rid of the moth.
~
"WHO DARES INVOKE THE WRATH OF ZIIIIM???!!!" shrieked the Irken himself, very angry in his underground labs that the power should shut down just as he was succeeding at the installation of the bad temperament trait in his evil moose army. "Eh.I suppose I'll just have to use the generator then."
Zim tried to navigate his way to the generator on the opposite side of the room. If the power wouldn't work, he'd be stuck on this lab level. He found the generator in the dark and turned it on, waiting for the lights to flicker back into function. But they didn't.
"Stupid thing," muttered Zim, kicking the electricity generator as though that would achieve anything.
The generator still refused to function. Yet the lights flickered on again, as well as every other electrical item in the darkened neighborhood.
~
Upstairs, GIR had fallen asleep, in spite of the fact that Indrid's message had ordered him not to. Without the Scary Monkey Show playing on the television, he had nothing else to do. So he slept. As electric juice began flowing through the TV cords again, he awakened.
Almost instantly after the power returned, the doorbell rang. Outside stood a tall, thin man - or at least he looked human - dressed completely in black. The trench coat he wore made him look a little intimidating. GIR answered the doorbell's ring.
Zim's computer had alerted him that someone was within the vicinity of the base, and he had consequently taken an elevator to the ground level to see who was there and why.
He entered the living room to see GIR having a nonsensical conversation with a strange guy in black. "Who are you?!!" he demanded upon seeing the odd visitor.
GIR turned to his master and smiled cheerfully. "This is Indrid! He's my friieend."
"Okayyy," muttered Zim. "GIR, quit befriending humans and bringing them into the base! The mission is at stake here!"
"I'm not human," said Indrid quietly. With that, he seemed to vanish into a void of blinding white light, leaving a creepy, "V"-shaped burn on the wall. The light seemed to implode upon itself, leaving no trace of anything ever happening. Except for the wall burn.
Zim stared at the space that this "Indrid" being had just occupied. He then stared at his android slave, wanting an explanation.
GIR tilted his head to look at Zim from a bizarre angle, his tongue hanging out as he smiled.
~
It was almost 1:00 am. It was now Saturday morning. Dib hurriedly searched through every one of his old magazines chronicling paranormal happenings. He hoped he'd find forgotten information about the Mothman. Giving up, he decided the Internet would be a better place to look. He had the misfortune to come across a site set up by Agent Dark Booty. It wouldn't have been so bad, but all it consisted of was a set of drawn pictures of the Mothman, line dancing with government officials from Area 51, talking with someone about politics over a glass of orange juice, and flying away to live with manta rays off the coast of Hawaii.
To top it all off, there was a poem on the bottom of the web page. It read:
"Recognition, Malnutrition, Concentration, Demonstration, Comprehension, Misconception, Observe my nosehairs of doom."
Dib wondered if Agent Dark Booty was mentally ill. He pushed his chair away from the desk, traumatized enough for one evening.
But the words on the screen suddenly seemed to melt into nothing. Dib shook his head, suddenly sure that something was playing mind tricks with him. The site might not have really existed, for all he knew. Then he heard the voice in the back of his head again. It hissed messages of an explosion resulting in fifteen deaths. He'd already heard this, but the words seemed to be getting faster, more urgent.
Dib moved closer to the computer again, logging into the Swollen Eyeball network.
Agent Dark Booty's silhouette appeared on the screen.
"This is Agent Mothman," said Dib quietly. "Did you create a Mothman site with a bizarre poem on the bottom of the home page?"
Agent Dark Booty appeared surprised. "No. Why?"
"I'm seeing things. I saw the Mothman again tonight. I thought I had photographic evidence that it exists now, but the film was burned. Now something's trying to tell me that there's going to be an explosion, and fifteen people will die," replied Dib anxiously. "You believe me, right?"
Dark Booty sighed. "Of course I believe you. My phone line has been strange all day."
"I wish I knew what it meant."
"Don't we all?" replied Dark Booty.
~
Gaz was downstairs, playing her video game. It seemed as though she wouldn't be satisfied until her thumbs bled. Naturally, she was very irritated when the phone rang. Who would call at this time of night? Professor Membrane always used holograms. It wouldn't stop ringing.
Finally, Gaz paused her game, her eyes twitching with pure hatred, and jerked the phone line out of the wall. Somewhat happier, she sat down to continue the game. She was, after all, so very close to the final boss. The phone began ringing again. The same phone whose cord had just been disconnected.
~
Twelve streets away, a horde of cannibalistic mimes wallowed in a pit of mayonnaise.
~
The plot will become more coherent as the story progresses. Sorry if it's not meaning much right now.