I thank the reviewers. May you always wallow in Skittles.
(Mmm...Skittles...)
We return to this Mothman fic of death and destruction! The story actually progresses somewhat. Read, enjoy, and review.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the poor, unfortunate soul that is Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones.
Chapter Three: "Heeeerrre..."
It was Saturday morning. A few errant hobos wandered pointlessly through the street. A pair of bloated birds exchanged heads when no one was looking. A lone telemarketer stood in the middle of the road and ripped his business suit off, revealing boxers with a smiley face print.
It appeared to be a perfectly normal morning. The sun shone and no hint of anything darkly odd lingered about the neighborhood. Dib twitched to life, having fallen asleep hours earlier in front of his computer. His eyes darted to the canister of burnt film on the desk next to him. Maybe he'd show the burnt film tonight at the Swollen Eyeball meeting... It was at least something, and Agent Dark Booty had already allotted Dib an amount of time during which he had originally planned to show photos of Mothman.
He pocketed the canister and walked downstairs into the kitchen, where he opened a cupboard and reached for a box of Frankenchokey cereal.
"You touch it, you die," muttered Gaz from the other side of the room, her arms folded as she glared at her brother.
"I'm entitled to some of the cereal too, you know," answered Dib.
"Were you also entitled to the last two cans of soda which I had already marked as MINE?"
Silence ensued. Finally, Dib decided that he wanted to live to make it to the Swollen Eyeball meeting. He backed out of the kitchen and returned upstairs to organize his paranormal folders for that night.
~
Sid still sat on the dusty linoleum floor of his run-down house, too scared to move. He had successfully removed the moth from his belly button, but the experience scarred him for life. He kept hearing fizzling noises and knocking sounds emanating from the very wall he leaned against.
Eventually, he did what any self-respecting old man would do: He stood up, struck a dramatic pose, slammed himself onto the floor, began writhing, vomited, cried, bled, removed the skin on his forehead, vomited again, and finally lied still. He used this time to catch his breath, during which foam suddenly ejected from every last orifice in his body. (A/N: I just had to write that, I'm sorry...)
~
It was finally 8:50 PM and Dib quietly left his house, Swollen Eyeball briefcase and laptop computer in hand. The canister of destroyed photography was still in his trench coat pocket, where he'd placed it earlier. Glancing up at the sky, he noticed a flash of lightning. And yet there weren't any clouds to produce it...
Dib stopped walking entirely and focused his attention on the sky. There it was again. That flash. He continued walking, faster than before, in the direction of the secret meeting location. He couldn't help but glance at the darkening sky again. There, directly above him, eleven odd lights formed a "V" shape and sent an ominous, pulsating red beam of light onto the ground. Dib didn't know what it was - UFOs, perhaps - but he was running out of time to make it to the meeting. He broke into a run and didn't stop until he got there.
Half an hour later, Dib stood in front of the Swollen Eyeball members, behind a podium, displaying the oddly burned film. An hour after that found Dib on the walk home, somewhat pleased with how the evening had gone.
In order to return to his house, Dib had to walk past the skool. He paused when he saw a corpse propped against the chain-link fence that bordered it. The corpse belonged to the telemarketer, who had so freely expressed his love for the world that morning in his boxers. Dib took a few steps closer, studying the telemarketer's head for gunshot wounds. He found none. There was no apparent cause for the man's death - and he hadn't been there when Dib had walked by the first time.
The telemarketer was just propped against the fence, sitting there. His head had slumped onto his shoulders a little bit, and his eyes stared wide open, facing directly ahead. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, and streams of red life juice appeared to be oozing from them.
After the initial shock of this discovery wore off, Dib took out a Polaroid camera and snapped a few shots. The images appeared burn-free. Just as he was leaving, he gazed at the skool building. It was then that he heard the voice in his head again. Only this time it was just one word, over and over: "Heeeerrre....heeeerrre...here."
What was supposed to happen at the skool? The explosion? The fifteen deaths? And what the hell killed the telemarketer? Dib shook his head free of whatever was speaking to him and continued the not-so- leisurely stroll back to his house. (A/N: I wrote this last scene while listening to "Half Light" again. Yay.)
~
Gaz was sitting on the couch alone, playing her Game Slave 2, a bowl of popcorn at her side. It was late again, and still Dib hadn't returned. "With any luck he's dead," she muttered to no one in particular as she commenced to destroy the boss of level 26.
It was then she heard knocking at the door. Why would anyone do that? No one ever came around here, and if they did, they used the doorbell. Professor Membrane was on another late night quest for another disease cure, and wasn't supposed to return until the early morning hours.
Fists clenched, Gaz opened the door, which revealed Indrid Cold. "Who are you?" she hissed. "Thought you'd interrupt my video game, did you? Get --" (eye twitch) "out - " (eye twitch) "of my house. Or I will be forced to invoke my wrath and skin you alive. Such beautiful suffering there will be..."
It was then that Gaz finally paid attention the likes of the "man" standing on her doorstep. He was some weird combination of man, monster, light, and voice. And GIR was attached to his leg, smiling and tongue hanging out of his mouth, intent on not letting go.
"I need to use a phone," said the man/monster/light/voice, his lips never moving.
"No, you don't. Go away or die." Gaz shut the door and seated herself on the couch again, un-pausing her game.
~
Zim cackled maniacally in his underground lair. He had done it - he'd successfully created an evil moose army, which would rule the world by his side. It was strange to gaze upon, though - hordes upon hordes of one- legged moose with bad dispositions. The short Irken Invader was very pleased.
~
Hours after Dib finally returned to his house, he still turned every strange occurrence over and over in his head. If an explosion killing 15 people was to happen at skool, he couldn't do anything about it until Monday. And that might be too late...
~
What will make the skool explode? Who will die? Will Dib be able to stop it? Will GIR ever stop thinking he's friends with Indrid? Will harm befall Gaz for threatening a supernatural entity? Will Zim conquer the globe with his moose army of doom? Some answers will be revealed in the next chapter...
May the Pop-Tarts be with you. It is very late and I am confused.
We return to this Mothman fic of death and destruction! The story actually progresses somewhat. Read, enjoy, and review.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the poor, unfortunate soul that is Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones.
Chapter Three: "Heeeerrre..."
It was Saturday morning. A few errant hobos wandered pointlessly through the street. A pair of bloated birds exchanged heads when no one was looking. A lone telemarketer stood in the middle of the road and ripped his business suit off, revealing boxers with a smiley face print.
It appeared to be a perfectly normal morning. The sun shone and no hint of anything darkly odd lingered about the neighborhood. Dib twitched to life, having fallen asleep hours earlier in front of his computer. His eyes darted to the canister of burnt film on the desk next to him. Maybe he'd show the burnt film tonight at the Swollen Eyeball meeting... It was at least something, and Agent Dark Booty had already allotted Dib an amount of time during which he had originally planned to show photos of Mothman.
He pocketed the canister and walked downstairs into the kitchen, where he opened a cupboard and reached for a box of Frankenchokey cereal.
"You touch it, you die," muttered Gaz from the other side of the room, her arms folded as she glared at her brother.
"I'm entitled to some of the cereal too, you know," answered Dib.
"Were you also entitled to the last two cans of soda which I had already marked as MINE?"
Silence ensued. Finally, Dib decided that he wanted to live to make it to the Swollen Eyeball meeting. He backed out of the kitchen and returned upstairs to organize his paranormal folders for that night.
~
Sid still sat on the dusty linoleum floor of his run-down house, too scared to move. He had successfully removed the moth from his belly button, but the experience scarred him for life. He kept hearing fizzling noises and knocking sounds emanating from the very wall he leaned against.
Eventually, he did what any self-respecting old man would do: He stood up, struck a dramatic pose, slammed himself onto the floor, began writhing, vomited, cried, bled, removed the skin on his forehead, vomited again, and finally lied still. He used this time to catch his breath, during which foam suddenly ejected from every last orifice in his body. (A/N: I just had to write that, I'm sorry...)
~
It was finally 8:50 PM and Dib quietly left his house, Swollen Eyeball briefcase and laptop computer in hand. The canister of destroyed photography was still in his trench coat pocket, where he'd placed it earlier. Glancing up at the sky, he noticed a flash of lightning. And yet there weren't any clouds to produce it...
Dib stopped walking entirely and focused his attention on the sky. There it was again. That flash. He continued walking, faster than before, in the direction of the secret meeting location. He couldn't help but glance at the darkening sky again. There, directly above him, eleven odd lights formed a "V" shape and sent an ominous, pulsating red beam of light onto the ground. Dib didn't know what it was - UFOs, perhaps - but he was running out of time to make it to the meeting. He broke into a run and didn't stop until he got there.
Half an hour later, Dib stood in front of the Swollen Eyeball members, behind a podium, displaying the oddly burned film. An hour after that found Dib on the walk home, somewhat pleased with how the evening had gone.
In order to return to his house, Dib had to walk past the skool. He paused when he saw a corpse propped against the chain-link fence that bordered it. The corpse belonged to the telemarketer, who had so freely expressed his love for the world that morning in his boxers. Dib took a few steps closer, studying the telemarketer's head for gunshot wounds. He found none. There was no apparent cause for the man's death - and he hadn't been there when Dib had walked by the first time.
The telemarketer was just propped against the fence, sitting there. His head had slumped onto his shoulders a little bit, and his eyes stared wide open, facing directly ahead. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, and streams of red life juice appeared to be oozing from them.
After the initial shock of this discovery wore off, Dib took out a Polaroid camera and snapped a few shots. The images appeared burn-free. Just as he was leaving, he gazed at the skool building. It was then that he heard the voice in his head again. Only this time it was just one word, over and over: "Heeeerrre....heeeerrre...here."
What was supposed to happen at the skool? The explosion? The fifteen deaths? And what the hell killed the telemarketer? Dib shook his head free of whatever was speaking to him and continued the not-so- leisurely stroll back to his house. (A/N: I wrote this last scene while listening to "Half Light" again. Yay.)
~
Gaz was sitting on the couch alone, playing her Game Slave 2, a bowl of popcorn at her side. It was late again, and still Dib hadn't returned. "With any luck he's dead," she muttered to no one in particular as she commenced to destroy the boss of level 26.
It was then she heard knocking at the door. Why would anyone do that? No one ever came around here, and if they did, they used the doorbell. Professor Membrane was on another late night quest for another disease cure, and wasn't supposed to return until the early morning hours.
Fists clenched, Gaz opened the door, which revealed Indrid Cold. "Who are you?" she hissed. "Thought you'd interrupt my video game, did you? Get --" (eye twitch) "out - " (eye twitch) "of my house. Or I will be forced to invoke my wrath and skin you alive. Such beautiful suffering there will be..."
It was then that Gaz finally paid attention the likes of the "man" standing on her doorstep. He was some weird combination of man, monster, light, and voice. And GIR was attached to his leg, smiling and tongue hanging out of his mouth, intent on not letting go.
"I need to use a phone," said the man/monster/light/voice, his lips never moving.
"No, you don't. Go away or die." Gaz shut the door and seated herself on the couch again, un-pausing her game.
~
Zim cackled maniacally in his underground lair. He had done it - he'd successfully created an evil moose army, which would rule the world by his side. It was strange to gaze upon, though - hordes upon hordes of one- legged moose with bad dispositions. The short Irken Invader was very pleased.
~
Hours after Dib finally returned to his house, he still turned every strange occurrence over and over in his head. If an explosion killing 15 people was to happen at skool, he couldn't do anything about it until Monday. And that might be too late...
~
What will make the skool explode? Who will die? Will Dib be able to stop it? Will GIR ever stop thinking he's friends with Indrid? Will harm befall Gaz for threatening a supernatural entity? Will Zim conquer the globe with his moose army of doom? Some answers will be revealed in the next chapter...
May the Pop-Tarts be with you. It is very late and I am confused.