I felt like writing folks, so I did. Yay! I have pretty much decided my
writing is going to hell so this is my attempt at actually writing
something readable that moves the story along at a little more than a
snail's pace... now it's about to an ant's pace. This is a good change! So
here's your disclaimer... Invader Zim is the property of a bunch of meanie
Mongoose Heads who have something against Moose. Ever seen Happy Tree
Friends? It will rot your brain. I own nothing. I want ramen noodles, but
I'm out... this is a treachery. I will carry on with my ownlessness. Chao!
It's Part #6
We are in the cafeteria folks! Don't question it, for that is where we are. You can gather this from the sight of empty hot food wells and a stack of trays. That is all you can see for the moment, but you soon her something, oh and what a sound it is! It sounded something like *smack* *bang* *thunk*. The fact that these noises are not common place in such a setting as this at the late hour in which it is, is something that might come to mind if you were to continue to sit behind that rack of trays while staring out at a bunch of empty food wells. You can move you know, and if you were to move, if you dared peek your head over the side of the trays and out towards the empty lunchroom, you would see a trashcan laid on its side. With its contents now freely exposed to the world, the massive plastic container lolls from side to side in an attempt to catch its bearings.
There it sat, innards being promptly displayed outwards, pondering how it had ever come to such a compromising position. It would have recalled the loud *smack* noise and its resounding *bang* with a follow up of *thunk* if it had ears for such, but as garbage cans have only been graced with sentient thought and handles, it could not. Another thing that irked it about the whole mess was its lack of sight. Sure a garbage can will guess its orientation, but without this sense, it was left wondering who or what had been responsible.
It faintly thought of blaming its neighbor, the green bin (the fact that they know their colors from production is not so much a knowledge of such things, but the assigning of colors according to personality such as a red bin being inherently stupid and a yellow bin being inherently dirty), for its desperate fate, but gave up on that because it knew neither it or its neighbor were able to move of their own accord.
It all seemed to be so very bothersome. Stripped of senses as it was, the can began to ponder whether it had, in deed, been overturned at all. This line of reasoning led way to another and eventually the can had worked itself into a rut and you have wasted all this time mulling over the ponderings of a trash receptacle when you could have been looking three feet to the right where the cause of this disturbance was hiding behind the fallen bin's compatriot, green bin.
It was a little hard to make out in the dark, but I'm sure you've been eating carrots now haven't you? If you have then you should be fine; if not, you're buggered. With your lack of carrot eating enthusiasm, you have cost yourself a first rate glimpse of the perpetrator. This doesn't matter anyway for I will tell you who it is.
It is Dib, who has finally managed his way into the building, but it wasn't easy. First the boy had to climb his way onto the roof, which was not without conflict. In the action, he caused a sprain in his pointer finger on the same hand as his previous wound. But, in due course of time, Dib made his way over to the window which Zim had tampered with and, by some mad act against gravity, was able to fall into the opening that was closed when he made for it.
The fact that he had cheated gravity on his entrance was enough to perturb the old chap, who made up for it the second he had cleared the window. This resulted in a loud *smack* *bang* and *thunk*. Dib had quickly tried to recover from the initial shock of the relatively bad landing by tuck- rolling to the nearest cover.
He now sat listening; hoping nothing had heard his graceless fall. When he was sure a sufficient amount of time had passed, Dib ventured away from the cafeteria and exited it through slightly ajar doors.
Dib now recklessly, yet somehow quietly, ran down the empty, poor lit, skool halls. He turned the corner leading to his classroom, causing a slight skidding sound he hoped was inconsequential. From this point, Dib proceeded slowly, allowing himself to catch his breath and listen for anything that might be a threat.
He did in deed hear something threatening and froze in place. The sound was scratchy, almost like the sound of metal on metal... it really sounded like... *Smack* Dib felt himself being forced to the ground by an unseen attacker. He was about to let out a *gah* of help, but felt a gloved hand being forced over his noise hole, resulting in a muffled gah that was still sufficient to get his point across.
"Shh!" snapped the glove, or rather the owner of the glove. To my knowledge, gloves don't speak. If you've ever heard one do so, please inform me.
Slowly, the wielder of the glove released his hold and allowed the boy to stand. Dib did stand, and brushed himself off.
"Gee Zim, do you think you could have freaked me out just a little bit more?" The alien, who was having a nice chuckle over his stealthy skills, suddenly stopped to ponder.
"You think I could have done better?" Dib glared.
"It's called sarcasm Zim."
"I know all about your petty sarcasm and its masterful applications!"
"I don't think you do." It was now Zim's turn to glare.
"Shut up."
Dib, having had enough of the conversation, made his way the rest of the distance to their classroom door. Zim would have hated to admit it, but he had been waiting for Dib this entire time. As far as he knew, Dib's curiosity often affected his judgment and he was much more likely to be compliant when forced to go first. Zim simply had a stronger sense of self preservation over such childish thoughts. Zim hung back, hoping Dib would simply take the lead... and also any gunfire that might erupt at a second's notice.
Dib did so oblige, completely oblivious to any of this. Carefully, he eased open the classroom door and peered in. What he expected to see and what he saw were very different. He had expected to see a gaping hole in the ground, leading down into the bowels of the facility and unearthing of a deep dark secret conspiracy that had been going on for over thirty years. What he say was floor, for Zim had shoved him from behind when he had not opened the door fully.
"Where is it?" Zim asked in a frustrated tone. Dib moaned as he eased himself off the ground.
"What?"
"The stairwell, the stairwell, it's gone!" Dib opened one eye testingly and was able to see that, in deed, the Irken had been right. The torch lit staircase that had been present not fifteen minutes ago was now missing in action. Zim was frantically looking for the seams of the device.
"There has to be something!" Zim exclaimed, beginning to get a bit loud while Dib went over to the desk, looking for signs of the button Ms. Bitters had pushed to summon the stairwell.
"There aren't any seams in this!" Zim shrieked after a moment of frantic clawing at the ground. "It's impossible, but they aren't here!"
"Zim, shh! The controls aren't here either."
"Well that's stupid! How are we supposed to get down there?" Zim snapped, this time lowering the level of his voice to a harsh screech.
"... ... I think I have an idea..."
MONGOOSE HEAD!! (aka it's over)
It's Part #6
We are in the cafeteria folks! Don't question it, for that is where we are. You can gather this from the sight of empty hot food wells and a stack of trays. That is all you can see for the moment, but you soon her something, oh and what a sound it is! It sounded something like *smack* *bang* *thunk*. The fact that these noises are not common place in such a setting as this at the late hour in which it is, is something that might come to mind if you were to continue to sit behind that rack of trays while staring out at a bunch of empty food wells. You can move you know, and if you were to move, if you dared peek your head over the side of the trays and out towards the empty lunchroom, you would see a trashcan laid on its side. With its contents now freely exposed to the world, the massive plastic container lolls from side to side in an attempt to catch its bearings.
There it sat, innards being promptly displayed outwards, pondering how it had ever come to such a compromising position. It would have recalled the loud *smack* noise and its resounding *bang* with a follow up of *thunk* if it had ears for such, but as garbage cans have only been graced with sentient thought and handles, it could not. Another thing that irked it about the whole mess was its lack of sight. Sure a garbage can will guess its orientation, but without this sense, it was left wondering who or what had been responsible.
It faintly thought of blaming its neighbor, the green bin (the fact that they know their colors from production is not so much a knowledge of such things, but the assigning of colors according to personality such as a red bin being inherently stupid and a yellow bin being inherently dirty), for its desperate fate, but gave up on that because it knew neither it or its neighbor were able to move of their own accord.
It all seemed to be so very bothersome. Stripped of senses as it was, the can began to ponder whether it had, in deed, been overturned at all. This line of reasoning led way to another and eventually the can had worked itself into a rut and you have wasted all this time mulling over the ponderings of a trash receptacle when you could have been looking three feet to the right where the cause of this disturbance was hiding behind the fallen bin's compatriot, green bin.
It was a little hard to make out in the dark, but I'm sure you've been eating carrots now haven't you? If you have then you should be fine; if not, you're buggered. With your lack of carrot eating enthusiasm, you have cost yourself a first rate glimpse of the perpetrator. This doesn't matter anyway for I will tell you who it is.
It is Dib, who has finally managed his way into the building, but it wasn't easy. First the boy had to climb his way onto the roof, which was not without conflict. In the action, he caused a sprain in his pointer finger on the same hand as his previous wound. But, in due course of time, Dib made his way over to the window which Zim had tampered with and, by some mad act against gravity, was able to fall into the opening that was closed when he made for it.
The fact that he had cheated gravity on his entrance was enough to perturb the old chap, who made up for it the second he had cleared the window. This resulted in a loud *smack* *bang* and *thunk*. Dib had quickly tried to recover from the initial shock of the relatively bad landing by tuck- rolling to the nearest cover.
He now sat listening; hoping nothing had heard his graceless fall. When he was sure a sufficient amount of time had passed, Dib ventured away from the cafeteria and exited it through slightly ajar doors.
Dib now recklessly, yet somehow quietly, ran down the empty, poor lit, skool halls. He turned the corner leading to his classroom, causing a slight skidding sound he hoped was inconsequential. From this point, Dib proceeded slowly, allowing himself to catch his breath and listen for anything that might be a threat.
He did in deed hear something threatening and froze in place. The sound was scratchy, almost like the sound of metal on metal... it really sounded like... *Smack* Dib felt himself being forced to the ground by an unseen attacker. He was about to let out a *gah* of help, but felt a gloved hand being forced over his noise hole, resulting in a muffled gah that was still sufficient to get his point across.
"Shh!" snapped the glove, or rather the owner of the glove. To my knowledge, gloves don't speak. If you've ever heard one do so, please inform me.
Slowly, the wielder of the glove released his hold and allowed the boy to stand. Dib did stand, and brushed himself off.
"Gee Zim, do you think you could have freaked me out just a little bit more?" The alien, who was having a nice chuckle over his stealthy skills, suddenly stopped to ponder.
"You think I could have done better?" Dib glared.
"It's called sarcasm Zim."
"I know all about your petty sarcasm and its masterful applications!"
"I don't think you do." It was now Zim's turn to glare.
"Shut up."
Dib, having had enough of the conversation, made his way the rest of the distance to their classroom door. Zim would have hated to admit it, but he had been waiting for Dib this entire time. As far as he knew, Dib's curiosity often affected his judgment and he was much more likely to be compliant when forced to go first. Zim simply had a stronger sense of self preservation over such childish thoughts. Zim hung back, hoping Dib would simply take the lead... and also any gunfire that might erupt at a second's notice.
Dib did so oblige, completely oblivious to any of this. Carefully, he eased open the classroom door and peered in. What he expected to see and what he saw were very different. He had expected to see a gaping hole in the ground, leading down into the bowels of the facility and unearthing of a deep dark secret conspiracy that had been going on for over thirty years. What he say was floor, for Zim had shoved him from behind when he had not opened the door fully.
"Where is it?" Zim asked in a frustrated tone. Dib moaned as he eased himself off the ground.
"What?"
"The stairwell, the stairwell, it's gone!" Dib opened one eye testingly and was able to see that, in deed, the Irken had been right. The torch lit staircase that had been present not fifteen minutes ago was now missing in action. Zim was frantically looking for the seams of the device.
"There has to be something!" Zim exclaimed, beginning to get a bit loud while Dib went over to the desk, looking for signs of the button Ms. Bitters had pushed to summon the stairwell.
"There aren't any seams in this!" Zim shrieked after a moment of frantic clawing at the ground. "It's impossible, but they aren't here!"
"Zim, shh! The controls aren't here either."
"Well that's stupid! How are we supposed to get down there?" Zim snapped, this time lowering the level of his voice to a harsh screech.
"... ... I think I have an idea..."
MONGOOSE HEAD!! (aka it's over)
