Disclaimer: What do you think? I don't own IZ, or the round and round song.
A/N: Those scraps that Red (or was it Tallest Purple?) took from the garbage bin, thrown together to make an 'advanced' S.I.R, weren't just scraps. That's right, Gir had a life before Earth, before Zim, Dib, or Gaz. Before tacos, piggies, or the Scary Monkey Show. Was he always that funny little robot we all know and love?
The Robot Enigma
"Round and round, the world is spinning, when it stops, It's just beginning, Round and round, The world is spinning, Then we all die."
Irken invaders always sang that song before a conquering, or before a battle. Or just when they were bored. They would sing it happily, sadly, always knowing that some day they would die. To die as an Irken is to die a death of one thousand fried weaner dogs roasted over a hot bonfire.
But I will get to that later.
"Uh, here's your Sir." Tallest red handed a Sir with gleaming red eyes to an Irken. He walked away gleeful. Another Sir handed to another Irken. And another. This continued in a pattern until the very last Irken was standing in front of the Tallest. You could say he looked like Zim, except taller and with a deeper shade of red eyes. He stepped closer to the Tallests.
The Tallests muttered something to one another then walked up to the Invader. Also similarly to Zim, the Tallests quite hated this Irken. But not for the same reasons. Let me note, this is before the Irken we call Zim was ever born.
"Um, we didn't have enough of the new Sir models to distribute, so, you get this older one." Purple thrust a pile of metal into the Irkens hands.
"Thank you, my Tallests, I shall conquer many of planets with my new Sir!" Some people, erm, aliens, are so gullible.
"Uh, yeah. You go do that, whatever your name is. Spoot? Smeet? Something like that."
"My Tallest, though I greatly appreciate the names you acknowledge me as whenever we meet, my born name, or at least the one on my Official Certificate, states that my name is Short."
The tallest were obviously trying not to laugh, so much that tears were streaming down their faces. Short (giggle) took no notice.
"Go and (snicker) do something now Soldier. Good (snort) luck conquering planets." Red said.
"Bye bye now." Short ran off.
The Tallests laughter could be heard quite clearly throughout the Massive, but Short was busy trying to turn his Sir on.
"The older models had a switch somewhere." He muttered, trying to find one. His gloved hand hit a switch. The sirs eyes opened, two bright red beams of light reflected of Shorts magenta ones.
"Hello, master."
Short did a happy dance (which ended in his head being severely hurt when he bumped into a radiator).
The sir stared, straight and elite, his hands in the stationary solute. Short stared back. And the Sir continued to stare.
"Well." Short said.
"Well?" the Sir answered.
Short thought that his Sir would be more exciting. Yes, it was an older model, but it was in good shape, and, Short supposed, it was only a few months old, no more that two years.
Short kicked the Sir, this occurring by the sudden rush of rage within his sqeedily spooch. The Sir stood still, still saluting.
"Can you do anything besides stare?"
"I can blink, talk, walk, run, blah, blah, blah." The Sir unit went into a whole list of things he could do.
"Blah blah blah, blah macarana." He finished.
"You can do the macarana?"
"Yes master."
"Do show."
The robot did the macarana. Well, it was better that staring, Short supposed. When the dance ended, the Sir began to salute again.
He heard a snicker behind him. There was Tak, a fellow Irken that Short knew, and outwardly despised.
Now, my readers, I should tell you that Tak is reeeeeaaaallllllyyyyyy old. Well, at least in this story she is. In fact, I do believe, Tak is older that Tallest Red (the Tallests are different ages in this story, you know).
"Well, well." Short despised that hell born voice.
" Well?" he turned around, questioning her authority.
"I like your pile of metal there."
"It's my new Sir unit, the Tallest gave it to me today."
"It's an older model."
"The Tallests ran out of newer models."
"What's its name?"
"Sir's don't need names."
"If you want to keep them in line, it's best to name them."
"Is that so?"
"That is so."
She walked away. Short thanked the Tallests that he hadn't gotten a black eye this time.
A/N: Those scraps that Red (or was it Tallest Purple?) took from the garbage bin, thrown together to make an 'advanced' S.I.R, weren't just scraps. That's right, Gir had a life before Earth, before Zim, Dib, or Gaz. Before tacos, piggies, or the Scary Monkey Show. Was he always that funny little robot we all know and love?
The Robot Enigma
"Round and round, the world is spinning, when it stops, It's just beginning, Round and round, The world is spinning, Then we all die."
Irken invaders always sang that song before a conquering, or before a battle. Or just when they were bored. They would sing it happily, sadly, always knowing that some day they would die. To die as an Irken is to die a death of one thousand fried weaner dogs roasted over a hot bonfire.
But I will get to that later.
"Uh, here's your Sir." Tallest red handed a Sir with gleaming red eyes to an Irken. He walked away gleeful. Another Sir handed to another Irken. And another. This continued in a pattern until the very last Irken was standing in front of the Tallest. You could say he looked like Zim, except taller and with a deeper shade of red eyes. He stepped closer to the Tallests.
The Tallests muttered something to one another then walked up to the Invader. Also similarly to Zim, the Tallests quite hated this Irken. But not for the same reasons. Let me note, this is before the Irken we call Zim was ever born.
"Um, we didn't have enough of the new Sir models to distribute, so, you get this older one." Purple thrust a pile of metal into the Irkens hands.
"Thank you, my Tallests, I shall conquer many of planets with my new Sir!" Some people, erm, aliens, are so gullible.
"Uh, yeah. You go do that, whatever your name is. Spoot? Smeet? Something like that."
"My Tallest, though I greatly appreciate the names you acknowledge me as whenever we meet, my born name, or at least the one on my Official Certificate, states that my name is Short."
The tallest were obviously trying not to laugh, so much that tears were streaming down their faces. Short (giggle) took no notice.
"Go and (snicker) do something now Soldier. Good (snort) luck conquering planets." Red said.
"Bye bye now." Short ran off.
The Tallests laughter could be heard quite clearly throughout the Massive, but Short was busy trying to turn his Sir on.
"The older models had a switch somewhere." He muttered, trying to find one. His gloved hand hit a switch. The sirs eyes opened, two bright red beams of light reflected of Shorts magenta ones.
"Hello, master."
Short did a happy dance (which ended in his head being severely hurt when he bumped into a radiator).
The sir stared, straight and elite, his hands in the stationary solute. Short stared back. And the Sir continued to stare.
"Well." Short said.
"Well?" the Sir answered.
Short thought that his Sir would be more exciting. Yes, it was an older model, but it was in good shape, and, Short supposed, it was only a few months old, no more that two years.
Short kicked the Sir, this occurring by the sudden rush of rage within his sqeedily spooch. The Sir stood still, still saluting.
"Can you do anything besides stare?"
"I can blink, talk, walk, run, blah, blah, blah." The Sir unit went into a whole list of things he could do.
"Blah blah blah, blah macarana." He finished.
"You can do the macarana?"
"Yes master."
"Do show."
The robot did the macarana. Well, it was better that staring, Short supposed. When the dance ended, the Sir began to salute again.
He heard a snicker behind him. There was Tak, a fellow Irken that Short knew, and outwardly despised.
Now, my readers, I should tell you that Tak is reeeeeaaaallllllyyyyyy old. Well, at least in this story she is. In fact, I do believe, Tak is older that Tallest Red (the Tallests are different ages in this story, you know).
"Well, well." Short despised that hell born voice.
" Well?" he turned around, questioning her authority.
"I like your pile of metal there."
"It's my new Sir unit, the Tallest gave it to me today."
"It's an older model."
"The Tallests ran out of newer models."
"What's its name?"
"Sir's don't need names."
"If you want to keep them in line, it's best to name them."
"Is that so?"
"That is so."
She walked away. Short thanked the Tallests that he hadn't gotten a black eye this time.