I have found it in myself to be able to do stuff... like write this chapter which should have been out last weekend. I blame my sick dog in ICU at the vet's. You can blame her too... go ahead... blame the old bitch! Well, I have been doing something with the time I haven't spent updating this story, and that is trying to restart my long deceased website. It will NEVER be moving again! Or at least not for the next two years, for I have purchased a domain name... yup! I still have many many pages to code, but it's Lizzy733.net. Now, smile and laugh at me because you fully intend to avoid that site at all costs, as you also plan to avoid reviewing this chapter by pressing that little x button up there. Anyway, read... you toaster pasties!

*Ode to Disclaim* The evil vermin known as Nickelodeon duct taped our super hero, Jhonen Vasquez, to a metal folding chair and tickled his feet with feathers from a chicken farm, where they kill millions of walking drumsticks daily, until he finally resigned all his lovely rights to his incredibly squishy creations of doom. They then proceeded to hoard the episodes away from us, the dedicated cult/obsessive fanatics, and only air them in foreign countries with the aid of subtitles and odd voice-overs. Does this mean that Nickelodeon is a rat bastard? No it does not. It means that I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this piece. You should be able to gather that.
Some things never change. They are a constant reminder that life, in all its mediocrity, is not a spontaneous thing. Gir is not one of these things. In fact, he is probably the most polar opposite you can get from constant. Whether it's the two year old ball of chewing gum from a dispenser machine in the main lobby of the planet Innia or a stergist, the lowest coin in the Irken monies system, constantly tumbling about the lack of circuitry in the pint sized robot's head, making tiny dints and scratches as it bumps along, no one is quite certain. It could be the most recent addition to the mechanism's lack of workable machine parts, a partially chewed squeak toy that had once been the possession of an elderly dog living three houses down which was sitting by the open window one day when it inadvertently choked on a guppy and died, knocking the chew toy to the ground where it could be found by any random robot from outer space which happened to be traipsing around. No, it couldn't be that. This was a problem long before the squeak toy incident... For whatever reason, whether it be loose change or a play thing of the deceased, the unit known as Gir had an uncanny lack of ability to stay in one place and do any simple act for more than 4.5 seconds. There is, however, an exception to the rule and that is monkeys, but we won't address that now for monkeys are not present at the moment... only the robot is.

Staring at it could possibly make one's eyes pop forth from one's skull, or one's spleen bleed uncontrollably, but the most common reaction is a whole adoration for the cute little maniac. Imbued with such loveable properties, it's no wonder that this masquerading pooch is the life of all the local parties. When the sun sets, Gir is on the town. Parties appease his anxy nature by allowing him plenty of stimulating activities all happening at once, so he doesn't have to become bored by having his attention diverted for more than the proven 4.5 seconds.

Where would our little hero of the nightlife be as the sun is setting? Why, at the local club, of course, and here it is. The Technotica isn't the 'hippest' place in town, but with the addition of an artificial thing able to mimic actual intelligence and cuteness, it's easily dubbed the place to be for the time being. I wouldn't deny that this falsified doggy has a myriad of groupie girls who follow him everywhere he goes, in turn, followed by countless guys hoping that, maybe, if they 'hang around' our local Gir, they might have a smidgen of a better chance at getting laid. This is a funny thing, but look! Gir is doing that thing he does with his hips that makes all the ladies want to go to bed with him, regardless to the fact of how disturbing that would be to you... the reader. At this point, might I add, the hour is somewhere around 12 am, and the party is just starting to get interesting. Gir won't return home until well after 3, as is his usual habit.

He's doing that other thing now... and... Oh God, he's got a glow stick. I think that's a good place to stop this here explanation of Gir's nightly 'duties' to the popularity of local night clubs. At this moment, as Gir busies himself with keeping his lack of mind occupied, he has no idea of the fate that is about to befall his beloved master and that kid person with the big head who is always trying to break into his house, for at this very moment... things don't look too well for the destructive duo...

*And thus endith the session*

This chapter must seem meaningless and make the story sound plotless, yes? Well, you're WRONG! It's here for a reason... not that I'm in the mood to talk about Gir and his sexiness, which I have heard is akin to the sexiness found in Filler Bunny's buck teeth, and it has not to do with a little foreshadowing of doom. No, it all has to do with the style I am writing in. Rambling is the key here and if you've ever read a book by Douglas Adams, you should expect this sort of thing... so survive like you always do because it would be really dumb to commit some gratuitous act against yourself because of this stupid story. Now review... or I might get the urge to do some gratuitous act against your self because of this stupid story... 8}