Annoying talk thingy at the end... go there to hear my squealy noise
making...
Zim the Dead Thingy (that's part 14 to you)
Zim opened his eyes to find himself in some place with white walls, either that or just a white light in general. He shook his head as it throbbed with a horrendous headache. It was then that reality caught up with him...
"Wait... didn't I die?"
"Yes!" Zim glanced up at the owner of the voice. In front of him was a podium and behind stood a shrouded figure.
"Who are you?" he asked it as his headache began to subside.
"I am Poop Dog the Gangsta Specter of Purgatory aka the holding pen of PAIN!" Zim stood up slowly and began brushing himself off as he bemusedly looked at the dog man.
"I'm not in pain... and I thought when you died you were sent to heaven or hell... where did this purgatory thing come from?" Despite his grisly appearance, Zim really was in no physical pain at the moment. This in contrast with the name of the place was enough to baffle him.
"Well, they is too busy and neither of them wanted to take you, so they dumped yo skinny assed self here. But you can't stay... we're overcrowded as it is." Zim looked around.
"But I'm the only one here."
"Silence! You weren't supposed to die fool!" Zim double-blinked.
"So, why am I even here?"
"When my boy busted a cap in your ass and you got smacked the fuck up by that big body baby doll, it threw the whole universe out of balance; making the whole damn thing implode in on itself." Poop Dog crossed his arms over one another as he waited for a reaction from the shell-shocked Irken.
"My dieing did all that?"
"Of course! You were like the city cesspool of the universe fool! When you died, there was nobody for the people to bitch at and take things out on. That's why it ended the universe."
"Well, if I can't stay and the world ended, then where do I go?"
"The world wasn't supposed to end. You get to wait here whilest it starts itself back up yo."
"Oh..."
"Just go look around or something I've got stuff to be doing." Zim glanced around at the glowy white place.
"But there's nothing here..."
"Just fuck off..." Zim glared at the Gangsta Specter... he would have slit the 'fool's' throat right then and there, but his knives were missing. (*shock*horror*)
"Could I at least have something for this?" Zim pointed at his massive head wound.
"Oh... here's a sandwich." Taking the sandwich, Zim walked a little ways away from the dog man and sat down, tossing the sandwich to the side. As he did this, Pop Dog went back to what he was doing; reading a copy of Crazy Robot Boy... it goes as follows:
"Tuna is the enemy! Yessss! They is made with butter poop! The grinding of my modish compels you to stare into my manhood! Stare deeply into my groin of pleasure! It compels you!" Crazy Robot Boy stops his preaching to the narrow minded people and animals of this badly drawn park in a city whose name we do not know and steps down from his soap box. He grabs the stand and raises it high over his head as he runs up to a boy who is eating an ice cream cone.
"You! I demand you take up the celery sticks of aggression! Fight back against the jacked circuits of the TUNA!! It is the disembodiment of Oprah Wendy! Yes, yes! He laughs at your pitiful bark also known as the alter boy of doom! Now with a new clean look!" The child looks up from his cone and begins to cry.
"A leak! A LEAK! Stop your rainy water-making! Hairy meat beast!" Crazy Robot Boy suddenly stops and stares at the audience. "No cows were hurt in the making of this pooh..."
A panel later, Crazy Robot Boy is standing next to a cliff and looking over the side. "It is now that my chicken is soiled with mayonnaise. I can no longer bark the anthem. Goodbye vegetable oppressors. My foot does now entoe you to lick my pelvis." Having not yelled once during that entire pointless noisy thing known as talk, Robot Boy dives off the cliff and into a pool of green jelly.
"Crazy cows unite to form funky Broadway sausage!" As Robot Boy speaks these words, a field of cows comes in to form a gigantic sausage. It then begins to river dance. "The udder horror! Stare indulgences! Learn to moo ultracow! Fear the evil tuna of the bees! Packed in vile water of the fishiest gargantuan, I compel thee!!!" Robot Boy floats on his back and kicks his way to the diving board of his green jelly pool. Once there, he pulls himself out of the sticky goo.
"Cry like you have always clucked after the rabbit! Beware the tuna... beware the TUNA!!!" With this Crazy Robot Boy yells out in an inaudible cry, sounding something like a primate's howl of horror and a child's ineligible talks of doom and runs off into the field with his arms raised high. They were flailing and giggling for some unknown reason.
END
Zim sat, looking away from Poop Dog and out into the ongoing whiteness. If this was a room, he couldn't tell where the floor ended and the walls began, and the ground seemed like a glass casing with the white light under it. The place was strange and the brightness began to get annoying.
'I wonder if those monster things were able to take over... and the rubber toys, will they be back?' Zim involuntarily shuddered.
"I hope not"
"Silence fool! This is some fucked up shit and I plan to get fucked up right along with it!" Zim glanced over at the dog that was now smoking a blunt and still reading on his comic of choice. He then went back to his pondering. Poop Dog started a new Robot Boy, noting that it said 'by ZIM' in the opening panel. Surprised he looked up at the alien who continued to ponder his predicament.
"Yo!" Zim looked back at the dog with annoyance. "You write this shit?" He held up the comic, but Zim couldn't see it clearly so he got up to get a better look. He walked up the specter and, trying to avoid the accumulating smoke cloud, looked at what was indeed his Crazy Robot Boy comic.
"Yeah" he replied.
"You must have been trippin' on some fucked up shit when you wrote this!"
"No... I don't smoke..." The dog looked down at the alien and leaned in to speak, breathing the intoxicating smoke in Zim's face.
"What was it? I gotta get a hold of some of that shit yo. I could make a killing selling that shit on the street!" Zim glared at the dog face as he coughed and swiped a hand in front of his face to clear the smoke.
"I am beginning to detest your existence more and more. I told you I don't DO anything!"
"Fine then, you will never know the great mystery fool!" Poop Dog leaned back up to his full height and pointed down at Zim.
"What great mystery?"
"What will happen to you when you leave here!"
"But won't I know that when I do leave here?" Poop Dog stared for a moment and then shrugged.
"It's time to go anyway... It'll be like a dream. You wake up and..."
"Woah woah woah! Wake up?!"
"Yeah, like when you pass out drunk... of course without the hangover, but..." Zim shook his head unnerved.
"I don't drink... and I hate sleep!"
"You is fucked up. There ain't nothing wrong with no sleep." Zim clenched his teeth and looked away.
"But I detest it so, every time I wake up there's no way to tell what has and hasn't happened. You now, it blurs the lines of reality so to speak."
"No... I don't know, but you're about to go. Cause I can't listen to this shit no more."
"When?"
"Right now." Poop Dog began to laugh at Zim as he stood at his full stature with his arms crossed in front of him. The scene faded for Zim and he felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and brought a hand to his head.
When he opened his eyes again, Zim was sitting up on the floor of his living room. He looked around. There was no sign of the rubber toys or the gaping hole that should have been the front of his house. There were no traces of the monsters in question and everything seemed normal... if anything was really normal.
"Was that all just a dream?" He felt different, clearheaded. Zim stood and walked to his boarded up window and looked out one of the gaps. The sun shone brightly in the sky and he looked over at his neighbor's house to see Dib. The big headed mocking boy stared out his second story window at him. Zim sighed and walked away from the window.
"I guess it's just me now" he said while plopping down on his couch.
"Yup!" Zim looked over at his drawing desk to see what had spoken.
"Me and a Dirty Chicken Toy."
END
*SQUEALY TALK STARTS HERE* Alrighty... I really never could get into Eff's character. I just went on motivation. He's too mysterious... so at least I don't have to worry about doing him anymore. Besides, Mr. Pork wasn't a hundred percent Eff, just as Zim isn't one hundred percent Johnny. Maybe it was just his pig-like affinity for exhortation... or something... And I press on. You better be happy I wrote this chapter. I was wounded by tuna and the cut on my finger is throbbing for me repeatedly banging the keys on this computer (not like that you perverse person). Due to this wound, I am not even going to draw until it gets better... and I really wanna draw Zim with an ouchie, so that'll have to wait. Oh yeah, I own this not *looks at Jhonen* Chapter 15 to come... not even I know what's going to happen... that's right I have not premeditated anything. If I were you I'd be frightened of my spontaneous ness. I have assuredly convinced my friend that I see maybe once every two weeks (yes, sadly that is the extent of my social life...) that there is something assuredly not entirely right about me. It's 4:47am and it has been raining nonstop for about three days now... and I love the rain, so I think I'll go and stare at a piece of paper and think about all the things I could draw if tuna wasn't out to get me. So... until next time...
Completed at 4:47am and at this exact moment a loud clap of thunder resounds and shakes the entire house! I squee with joy!
Zim the Dead Thingy (that's part 14 to you)
Zim opened his eyes to find himself in some place with white walls, either that or just a white light in general. He shook his head as it throbbed with a horrendous headache. It was then that reality caught up with him...
"Wait... didn't I die?"
"Yes!" Zim glanced up at the owner of the voice. In front of him was a podium and behind stood a shrouded figure.
"Who are you?" he asked it as his headache began to subside.
"I am Poop Dog the Gangsta Specter of Purgatory aka the holding pen of PAIN!" Zim stood up slowly and began brushing himself off as he bemusedly looked at the dog man.
"I'm not in pain... and I thought when you died you were sent to heaven or hell... where did this purgatory thing come from?" Despite his grisly appearance, Zim really was in no physical pain at the moment. This in contrast with the name of the place was enough to baffle him.
"Well, they is too busy and neither of them wanted to take you, so they dumped yo skinny assed self here. But you can't stay... we're overcrowded as it is." Zim looked around.
"But I'm the only one here."
"Silence! You weren't supposed to die fool!" Zim double-blinked.
"So, why am I even here?"
"When my boy busted a cap in your ass and you got smacked the fuck up by that big body baby doll, it threw the whole universe out of balance; making the whole damn thing implode in on itself." Poop Dog crossed his arms over one another as he waited for a reaction from the shell-shocked Irken.
"My dieing did all that?"
"Of course! You were like the city cesspool of the universe fool! When you died, there was nobody for the people to bitch at and take things out on. That's why it ended the universe."
"Well, if I can't stay and the world ended, then where do I go?"
"The world wasn't supposed to end. You get to wait here whilest it starts itself back up yo."
"Oh..."
"Just go look around or something I've got stuff to be doing." Zim glanced around at the glowy white place.
"But there's nothing here..."
"Just fuck off..." Zim glared at the Gangsta Specter... he would have slit the 'fool's' throat right then and there, but his knives were missing. (*shock*horror*)
"Could I at least have something for this?" Zim pointed at his massive head wound.
"Oh... here's a sandwich." Taking the sandwich, Zim walked a little ways away from the dog man and sat down, tossing the sandwich to the side. As he did this, Pop Dog went back to what he was doing; reading a copy of Crazy Robot Boy... it goes as follows:
"Tuna is the enemy! Yessss! They is made with butter poop! The grinding of my modish compels you to stare into my manhood! Stare deeply into my groin of pleasure! It compels you!" Crazy Robot Boy stops his preaching to the narrow minded people and animals of this badly drawn park in a city whose name we do not know and steps down from his soap box. He grabs the stand and raises it high over his head as he runs up to a boy who is eating an ice cream cone.
"You! I demand you take up the celery sticks of aggression! Fight back against the jacked circuits of the TUNA!! It is the disembodiment of Oprah Wendy! Yes, yes! He laughs at your pitiful bark also known as the alter boy of doom! Now with a new clean look!" The child looks up from his cone and begins to cry.
"A leak! A LEAK! Stop your rainy water-making! Hairy meat beast!" Crazy Robot Boy suddenly stops and stares at the audience. "No cows were hurt in the making of this pooh..."
A panel later, Crazy Robot Boy is standing next to a cliff and looking over the side. "It is now that my chicken is soiled with mayonnaise. I can no longer bark the anthem. Goodbye vegetable oppressors. My foot does now entoe you to lick my pelvis." Having not yelled once during that entire pointless noisy thing known as talk, Robot Boy dives off the cliff and into a pool of green jelly.
"Crazy cows unite to form funky Broadway sausage!" As Robot Boy speaks these words, a field of cows comes in to form a gigantic sausage. It then begins to river dance. "The udder horror! Stare indulgences! Learn to moo ultracow! Fear the evil tuna of the bees! Packed in vile water of the fishiest gargantuan, I compel thee!!!" Robot Boy floats on his back and kicks his way to the diving board of his green jelly pool. Once there, he pulls himself out of the sticky goo.
"Cry like you have always clucked after the rabbit! Beware the tuna... beware the TUNA!!!" With this Crazy Robot Boy yells out in an inaudible cry, sounding something like a primate's howl of horror and a child's ineligible talks of doom and runs off into the field with his arms raised high. They were flailing and giggling for some unknown reason.
END
Zim sat, looking away from Poop Dog and out into the ongoing whiteness. If this was a room, he couldn't tell where the floor ended and the walls began, and the ground seemed like a glass casing with the white light under it. The place was strange and the brightness began to get annoying.
'I wonder if those monster things were able to take over... and the rubber toys, will they be back?' Zim involuntarily shuddered.
"I hope not"
"Silence fool! This is some fucked up shit and I plan to get fucked up right along with it!" Zim glanced over at the dog that was now smoking a blunt and still reading on his comic of choice. He then went back to his pondering. Poop Dog started a new Robot Boy, noting that it said 'by ZIM' in the opening panel. Surprised he looked up at the alien who continued to ponder his predicament.
"Yo!" Zim looked back at the dog with annoyance. "You write this shit?" He held up the comic, but Zim couldn't see it clearly so he got up to get a better look. He walked up the specter and, trying to avoid the accumulating smoke cloud, looked at what was indeed his Crazy Robot Boy comic.
"Yeah" he replied.
"You must have been trippin' on some fucked up shit when you wrote this!"
"No... I don't smoke..." The dog looked down at the alien and leaned in to speak, breathing the intoxicating smoke in Zim's face.
"What was it? I gotta get a hold of some of that shit yo. I could make a killing selling that shit on the street!" Zim glared at the dog face as he coughed and swiped a hand in front of his face to clear the smoke.
"I am beginning to detest your existence more and more. I told you I don't DO anything!"
"Fine then, you will never know the great mystery fool!" Poop Dog leaned back up to his full height and pointed down at Zim.
"What great mystery?"
"What will happen to you when you leave here!"
"But won't I know that when I do leave here?" Poop Dog stared for a moment and then shrugged.
"It's time to go anyway... It'll be like a dream. You wake up and..."
"Woah woah woah! Wake up?!"
"Yeah, like when you pass out drunk... of course without the hangover, but..." Zim shook his head unnerved.
"I don't drink... and I hate sleep!"
"You is fucked up. There ain't nothing wrong with no sleep." Zim clenched his teeth and looked away.
"But I detest it so, every time I wake up there's no way to tell what has and hasn't happened. You now, it blurs the lines of reality so to speak."
"No... I don't know, but you're about to go. Cause I can't listen to this shit no more."
"When?"
"Right now." Poop Dog began to laugh at Zim as he stood at his full stature with his arms crossed in front of him. The scene faded for Zim and he felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and brought a hand to his head.
When he opened his eyes again, Zim was sitting up on the floor of his living room. He looked around. There was no sign of the rubber toys or the gaping hole that should have been the front of his house. There were no traces of the monsters in question and everything seemed normal... if anything was really normal.
"Was that all just a dream?" He felt different, clearheaded. Zim stood and walked to his boarded up window and looked out one of the gaps. The sun shone brightly in the sky and he looked over at his neighbor's house to see Dib. The big headed mocking boy stared out his second story window at him. Zim sighed and walked away from the window.
"I guess it's just me now" he said while plopping down on his couch.
"Yup!" Zim looked over at his drawing desk to see what had spoken.
"Me and a Dirty Chicken Toy."
END
*SQUEALY TALK STARTS HERE* Alrighty... I really never could get into Eff's character. I just went on motivation. He's too mysterious... so at least I don't have to worry about doing him anymore. Besides, Mr. Pork wasn't a hundred percent Eff, just as Zim isn't one hundred percent Johnny. Maybe it was just his pig-like affinity for exhortation... or something... And I press on. You better be happy I wrote this chapter. I was wounded by tuna and the cut on my finger is throbbing for me repeatedly banging the keys on this computer (not like that you perverse person). Due to this wound, I am not even going to draw until it gets better... and I really wanna draw Zim with an ouchie, so that'll have to wait. Oh yeah, I own this not *looks at Jhonen* Chapter 15 to come... not even I know what's going to happen... that's right I have not premeditated anything. If I were you I'd be frightened of my spontaneous ness. I have assuredly convinced my friend that I see maybe once every two weeks (yes, sadly that is the extent of my social life...) that there is something assuredly not entirely right about me. It's 4:47am and it has been raining nonstop for about three days now... and I love the rain, so I think I'll go and stare at a piece of paper and think about all the things I could draw if tuna wasn't out to get me. So... until next time...
Completed at 4:47am and at this exact moment a loud clap of thunder resounds and shakes the entire house! I squee with joy!