The Frighteningly Horrible Truth About Ms Bitters
Yet another disturbingly twisted tale has decided it must weasel its way out of my brain and express itself in a typed form. I expect by now that you all know and fear these random outbursts o mine and are inclined to read no further as it might cause you psychological damage in some way. I, myself, am not immune to the occasional bought of insanity brought about by my own way of thinking. Fear for me; fear for yourselves. Now, read on you person who begs for something to do other than exist!
I amuse you with my plots no? I do not amuse you with my originally original characters as I have none. I, sadly, have to say that nickelodeon owns them because of an evil thing they did to a particular guy with the last name of Vasquez. I hear there were monkeys involved, as well as explosions, but this is all hearsay. Now.... READ!
It was a Monday. Oh what a horrible day that is. So horrible in fact that not a one of the children present was able to stand the growing feeling of monotony. To make matters worse, the planet earth had recently decided to tilt dangerously close to the sun and subjugate the young to the annual torture of paranoid school boards who are unwilling to supply classrooms with sufficient air conditioning as it might force them to cease the serving of green jello in the skool cafeteria due to lack of funds.
"That..." quoted one skool official, "would be a tragedy!"
But enough of green food stuffs, for look... there! One of the children is shriveling up into a shlong-like cucumber thingy! Or perhaps you shouldn't look... that is a horribly scarring thing to force on one's eyes. But do look at the trench coat clad boy sitting by the window. Something makes me think he is dumb. Maybe it's that he looks a little 'different' from everybody else, maybe it's because the whole school hails him as insane, maybe it's because the horrendous heat being magnified by the window is causing him to smolder, also, a slight amount of drool is leaking its way out from the corner of his mouth. His largely deformed head also appears swollen, making one think him retarded.
On the other side of the room, far from the drooling, sun-scorched boy is a boy who is not a boy at all, but would be revealed to be none other than Invader Zim, the horrible alien who is not only older than any human alive, but also plans on destroying the world at any given time. The fact that he does not know when 'any given time' is poses a problem to him and his world dooming, therefore he is sitting there, writing a story on a little pad. This story is about him dooming the world.
"Zim!" comes a grating voice from a dark being who in no way was enjoying the weather, other than it was hot.
The alien boy was surprised that the woman would have interrupted him in this his most climactic ending to the world as we know it.
"Is it more important to you to waste paper than to listen to my enlightening lesson on the first true 'Death March'?"
"I am writing a story about worldly demise!" cackles the child-like alien in his self-appreciating way.
"You might think such a thing important" shouts the teacher, "but I am ten times as old as you and only I know what you truly must devote your time to! Succumb to the lifestyle which so many have adopted! Become complacent in knowing that you are an inferior life form and will never evolve into anything more!"
The blazing shout of furry ended abruptly when the skool principal, a Mr. Nevers, popped his head in the door. His sickeningly vacant face with a long scar spanning from eyebrow to eyebrow would be enough to make anyone worry about making any sudden movements around him, but Ms. Bitters held no such fears.
"What do you want?" she hissed in that way that only she can.
"Oh... hi" came the man's voice.
"Well?"
"Due to the green jello threat, the skool board has decided that skool will be canceling all field trips for the rest of the year." Ms. Bitters growled in annoyance at the ignorant buffoon as a unanimous "awww!" came from the classroom. Well, almost unanimous. I say this because many of the children had already passed out from heat exhaustion and there were a few still, such as that big-headed kid, who appeared to have entered a comatose state. Actually, there were only about three children who were coherent enough to make the 'awww' sound. After his message had been said, Mr. Nevers simply exited in a fashion that suited him. He walked back out the door.
"Well, you heard him class..." the ancient teacher said while turning back to her class. One student in particular caught her eye and a seething rage built up inside of her. The alien was laughing so hard that, if he were human, could be appropriately described as him about to burst a lung, but, as he is not human, there is no appropriate description available. His laughter slowed considerably as he noted the teacher's death glare and slowed even more so as he noticed the three coherent children who were now concentrating their eyes on him. The teacher growled once more, but left it at that as she did not have the urge to pursue it further and was eager to return to her lesson.
"And, as I was saying... they would huddle together in large piles to conserve body heat. This, obviously, was a bad idea because those in the center of the pile were crushed and suffocated under the weight, while those on the outside of the pile would freeze solid, trapping any that were under them. Inevitably, these would come to be known as 'Piles of Death'...
The thing which the alien had been laughing so heartily at was now the thing which caused him to display a look of pure confusion. When the teacher had first questioned him on his activities, he had found the idea of himself being an inferior being as the single most hilarious thing he had ever heard. Shortly, hereafter, his mind had gone over the teacher's entire utterance with great care. Therein, an inconsistency was found.
'I am ten times as old as you!'
'She does look ancient; perhaps she knows that I am an alien invader bent on enslaving the planet! Perhaps I'm just being paranoid, but even if she didn't know, ten times is far too old for any human. Perhaps she's just senile, but... I must know!'
By the end of these ponderings, a dark grin curled its way across the kid- sized invader's face. There wasn't really anything to be so evilly happy about, it was most likely done out of habit, but he had made up his mind. During the weekly library time, which coincidentally was today, Zim would look for an annual from years past and see if his hypothesis was correct.
The time came. As the remaining conscious children were led out of the room, the unconscious ones were herded out by men wielding cattle prods. Eventually, after a long walk down the dirty mint-colored walls and past the door to detention rooms one through five, which were host to all sorts of torturous screams, there came a door which sported a large mocking smiley face poster with the words "Smile Though Your Life is Miserable!" in a very bold print.
Zim wasted no time in finding the books in question... the annuals and began thumbing through them in search of the faculty pages. Meanwhile, Dib, and the other children who were shocked into a semi-conscious state by use of cattle prods, were forced into cushy chairs surrounding a long meeting table. It was here that they, in this shady area, were able to recuperate from the excessive exposure. When the overheated synapses of Dib's brain realized that they could successfully conduct an electrical charge once again, the boy was able conjure up enough of that thing known as common sense to remove his leather coat, revealing the one thing all Dib fans have known to be true for longer than non-Dib fans who did not dwell on such things, that Dib's shirt was short sleeved!
With the removal of that incredibly hot jacket, Dib's recovery seemed to accelerate, more so than if the jacket had still been on. Shortly, he spoke his first since he had been subjugated to the terrible heat because the skool board had decided air conditioning was too risky for green jello. This word was "muah?". Shortly after this accomplishment, Dib spoke his first coherent words and was actually able to form them into a questioning sentence, something his fellow cattle-prodded classmates had yet to do. He said...
"Where am I?"
With the opening of his watery eyes, Dib found that he was in the library, sitting in one of about ten cushy chairs which were situated around an elongated table. He also saw his arch nemesis, a green alien with an affinity for the pompadour hairstyle, was vigorously thumbing through book after book, with his facial features becoming increasingly agitated.
In fact, that agitation was brought about by a sole truth that only he knew of. In all the annuals he had looked at... from 90's to well after the 60's, all the pictures looked the same! Every picture... it appeared that Ms. Bitters hadn't aged in over thirty years! Not one thing about her had changed. It was the single most disturbing truth he had ever unearthed, even more horrible than knowing the mating rituals of the Gersplangists...
Dib, thinking his enemy up to something, quickly found himself slipping into stealth mode, totally ignoring the fact that he was in a skool library. Many of the children simply stared at him as he slunk up against the wall, breathing heavily, and ducked behind a bookshelf. It upset many students when he did a tuck roll under their table. These few had the privilege of being in kicking distance of the boy. Needless to say, Dib didn't spend much time under that table. He ducked to one side of the low shelves Zim was using as a table-top while overlapping each book to examine the pictures more closely. Dib was hiding well, except for the fact that his pointy strand of hair was sticking up, above the shelf. Zim caught glimpse of this and simply stared at it for a moment as Dib jumped up, abandoning his hiding spot and slightly upset that he had not frightened the alien.
"Ahah! What are you up to Zim? Huh, huh, huh, huh?" the huh's continued to come and Zim squinted an eye in confusion, then went back to studying the pictures without so much as obliging Dib with a witty response. It didn't take long for the luster of saying the word huh to wear off and Dib found himself looking down at the books Zim was so intently studying.
"Hey, these are annuals!" he shrieked, happy about his discovery. Zim glanced up at him, annoyed, then back to his work, wishing he would go away.
"And that's Ms. Bitters!" there was a pause as Dib leaned in to see the images closer. In doing so he almost hit the alien in the face with his pointy hair, but Zim had leaned back, out of its pokey reach.
"Hey, all these pictures look the same... what year are these?" Zim pondered walking away, he had gathered all he could from these photos. Dib grabbed up a book and flipped it over. It read 1962. He stared at it goggle- eyed. Zim, slowly, began to slink away, when...
"Do you know what this means?! It means that Ms. Bitters is..."
"Yes, yes... ancient, old, derelict, and most of all... not human." Although all of Zim's insides demanded he not drag himself into a conversation with his arch nemesis over something they might both agree is a bad thing, Zim had this bad habit of not listening to his insides. This usually resulted in dreadful explosions, although the reason for this is not yet known. Some hypothesize that Zim is accident-prone, others still that he is insane. Whatever the reason, it has been deducted by many theologians that if Zim were to listen to his insides more often, the universe might not be such a dangerous place.
And HA! Because this is where I end for now... I think reading Douglas Adams has altered my writing style. Ah well, do tell me what you think of this. It isn't finished at the moment, as you can see... I have about 4 unfinished fics relating to Jhonen. I have no idea when I will post any of those, but anyway... I exist... and so does that little button down there. I leave you to your moo...
Yet another disturbingly twisted tale has decided it must weasel its way out of my brain and express itself in a typed form. I expect by now that you all know and fear these random outbursts o mine and are inclined to read no further as it might cause you psychological damage in some way. I, myself, am not immune to the occasional bought of insanity brought about by my own way of thinking. Fear for me; fear for yourselves. Now, read on you person who begs for something to do other than exist!
I amuse you with my plots no? I do not amuse you with my originally original characters as I have none. I, sadly, have to say that nickelodeon owns them because of an evil thing they did to a particular guy with the last name of Vasquez. I hear there were monkeys involved, as well as explosions, but this is all hearsay. Now.... READ!
It was a Monday. Oh what a horrible day that is. So horrible in fact that not a one of the children present was able to stand the growing feeling of monotony. To make matters worse, the planet earth had recently decided to tilt dangerously close to the sun and subjugate the young to the annual torture of paranoid school boards who are unwilling to supply classrooms with sufficient air conditioning as it might force them to cease the serving of green jello in the skool cafeteria due to lack of funds.
"That..." quoted one skool official, "would be a tragedy!"
But enough of green food stuffs, for look... there! One of the children is shriveling up into a shlong-like cucumber thingy! Or perhaps you shouldn't look... that is a horribly scarring thing to force on one's eyes. But do look at the trench coat clad boy sitting by the window. Something makes me think he is dumb. Maybe it's that he looks a little 'different' from everybody else, maybe it's because the whole school hails him as insane, maybe it's because the horrendous heat being magnified by the window is causing him to smolder, also, a slight amount of drool is leaking its way out from the corner of his mouth. His largely deformed head also appears swollen, making one think him retarded.
On the other side of the room, far from the drooling, sun-scorched boy is a boy who is not a boy at all, but would be revealed to be none other than Invader Zim, the horrible alien who is not only older than any human alive, but also plans on destroying the world at any given time. The fact that he does not know when 'any given time' is poses a problem to him and his world dooming, therefore he is sitting there, writing a story on a little pad. This story is about him dooming the world.
"Zim!" comes a grating voice from a dark being who in no way was enjoying the weather, other than it was hot.
The alien boy was surprised that the woman would have interrupted him in this his most climactic ending to the world as we know it.
"Is it more important to you to waste paper than to listen to my enlightening lesson on the first true 'Death March'?"
"I am writing a story about worldly demise!" cackles the child-like alien in his self-appreciating way.
"You might think such a thing important" shouts the teacher, "but I am ten times as old as you and only I know what you truly must devote your time to! Succumb to the lifestyle which so many have adopted! Become complacent in knowing that you are an inferior life form and will never evolve into anything more!"
The blazing shout of furry ended abruptly when the skool principal, a Mr. Nevers, popped his head in the door. His sickeningly vacant face with a long scar spanning from eyebrow to eyebrow would be enough to make anyone worry about making any sudden movements around him, but Ms. Bitters held no such fears.
"What do you want?" she hissed in that way that only she can.
"Oh... hi" came the man's voice.
"Well?"
"Due to the green jello threat, the skool board has decided that skool will be canceling all field trips for the rest of the year." Ms. Bitters growled in annoyance at the ignorant buffoon as a unanimous "awww!" came from the classroom. Well, almost unanimous. I say this because many of the children had already passed out from heat exhaustion and there were a few still, such as that big-headed kid, who appeared to have entered a comatose state. Actually, there were only about three children who were coherent enough to make the 'awww' sound. After his message had been said, Mr. Nevers simply exited in a fashion that suited him. He walked back out the door.
"Well, you heard him class..." the ancient teacher said while turning back to her class. One student in particular caught her eye and a seething rage built up inside of her. The alien was laughing so hard that, if he were human, could be appropriately described as him about to burst a lung, but, as he is not human, there is no appropriate description available. His laughter slowed considerably as he noted the teacher's death glare and slowed even more so as he noticed the three coherent children who were now concentrating their eyes on him. The teacher growled once more, but left it at that as she did not have the urge to pursue it further and was eager to return to her lesson.
"And, as I was saying... they would huddle together in large piles to conserve body heat. This, obviously, was a bad idea because those in the center of the pile were crushed and suffocated under the weight, while those on the outside of the pile would freeze solid, trapping any that were under them. Inevitably, these would come to be known as 'Piles of Death'...
The thing which the alien had been laughing so heartily at was now the thing which caused him to display a look of pure confusion. When the teacher had first questioned him on his activities, he had found the idea of himself being an inferior being as the single most hilarious thing he had ever heard. Shortly, hereafter, his mind had gone over the teacher's entire utterance with great care. Therein, an inconsistency was found.
'I am ten times as old as you!'
'She does look ancient; perhaps she knows that I am an alien invader bent on enslaving the planet! Perhaps I'm just being paranoid, but even if she didn't know, ten times is far too old for any human. Perhaps she's just senile, but... I must know!'
By the end of these ponderings, a dark grin curled its way across the kid- sized invader's face. There wasn't really anything to be so evilly happy about, it was most likely done out of habit, but he had made up his mind. During the weekly library time, which coincidentally was today, Zim would look for an annual from years past and see if his hypothesis was correct.
The time came. As the remaining conscious children were led out of the room, the unconscious ones were herded out by men wielding cattle prods. Eventually, after a long walk down the dirty mint-colored walls and past the door to detention rooms one through five, which were host to all sorts of torturous screams, there came a door which sported a large mocking smiley face poster with the words "Smile Though Your Life is Miserable!" in a very bold print.
Zim wasted no time in finding the books in question... the annuals and began thumbing through them in search of the faculty pages. Meanwhile, Dib, and the other children who were shocked into a semi-conscious state by use of cattle prods, were forced into cushy chairs surrounding a long meeting table. It was here that they, in this shady area, were able to recuperate from the excessive exposure. When the overheated synapses of Dib's brain realized that they could successfully conduct an electrical charge once again, the boy was able conjure up enough of that thing known as common sense to remove his leather coat, revealing the one thing all Dib fans have known to be true for longer than non-Dib fans who did not dwell on such things, that Dib's shirt was short sleeved!
With the removal of that incredibly hot jacket, Dib's recovery seemed to accelerate, more so than if the jacket had still been on. Shortly, he spoke his first since he had been subjugated to the terrible heat because the skool board had decided air conditioning was too risky for green jello. This word was "muah?". Shortly after this accomplishment, Dib spoke his first coherent words and was actually able to form them into a questioning sentence, something his fellow cattle-prodded classmates had yet to do. He said...
"Where am I?"
With the opening of his watery eyes, Dib found that he was in the library, sitting in one of about ten cushy chairs which were situated around an elongated table. He also saw his arch nemesis, a green alien with an affinity for the pompadour hairstyle, was vigorously thumbing through book after book, with his facial features becoming increasingly agitated.
In fact, that agitation was brought about by a sole truth that only he knew of. In all the annuals he had looked at... from 90's to well after the 60's, all the pictures looked the same! Every picture... it appeared that Ms. Bitters hadn't aged in over thirty years! Not one thing about her had changed. It was the single most disturbing truth he had ever unearthed, even more horrible than knowing the mating rituals of the Gersplangists...
Dib, thinking his enemy up to something, quickly found himself slipping into stealth mode, totally ignoring the fact that he was in a skool library. Many of the children simply stared at him as he slunk up against the wall, breathing heavily, and ducked behind a bookshelf. It upset many students when he did a tuck roll under their table. These few had the privilege of being in kicking distance of the boy. Needless to say, Dib didn't spend much time under that table. He ducked to one side of the low shelves Zim was using as a table-top while overlapping each book to examine the pictures more closely. Dib was hiding well, except for the fact that his pointy strand of hair was sticking up, above the shelf. Zim caught glimpse of this and simply stared at it for a moment as Dib jumped up, abandoning his hiding spot and slightly upset that he had not frightened the alien.
"Ahah! What are you up to Zim? Huh, huh, huh, huh?" the huh's continued to come and Zim squinted an eye in confusion, then went back to studying the pictures without so much as obliging Dib with a witty response. It didn't take long for the luster of saying the word huh to wear off and Dib found himself looking down at the books Zim was so intently studying.
"Hey, these are annuals!" he shrieked, happy about his discovery. Zim glanced up at him, annoyed, then back to his work, wishing he would go away.
"And that's Ms. Bitters!" there was a pause as Dib leaned in to see the images closer. In doing so he almost hit the alien in the face with his pointy hair, but Zim had leaned back, out of its pokey reach.
"Hey, all these pictures look the same... what year are these?" Zim pondered walking away, he had gathered all he could from these photos. Dib grabbed up a book and flipped it over. It read 1962. He stared at it goggle- eyed. Zim, slowly, began to slink away, when...
"Do you know what this means?! It means that Ms. Bitters is..."
"Yes, yes... ancient, old, derelict, and most of all... not human." Although all of Zim's insides demanded he not drag himself into a conversation with his arch nemesis over something they might both agree is a bad thing, Zim had this bad habit of not listening to his insides. This usually resulted in dreadful explosions, although the reason for this is not yet known. Some hypothesize that Zim is accident-prone, others still that he is insane. Whatever the reason, it has been deducted by many theologians that if Zim were to listen to his insides more often, the universe might not be such a dangerous place.
And HA! Because this is where I end for now... I think reading Douglas Adams has altered my writing style. Ah well, do tell me what you think of this. It isn't finished at the moment, as you can see... I have about 4 unfinished fics relating to Jhonen. I have no idea when I will post any of those, but anyway... I exist... and so does that little button down there. I leave you to your moo...
