"The natural habitat of the North American prepubescent human is ... Zzzzt! ... a confession I must make – I'm ... Zzzzt! ... simply add sugar and butter and – Presto! – you have ... Zzzzt! ... One million dollars!"
Gir sat idly on the couch, flipping through channel after channel. He might have been looking for something in particular, or he might have just wanted to watch everything at once. Either way, the incessant ever changing noise was irritating his master.
"GIR! If you MUST watch those MINDLESS ... er ...visual ... information ... THINGS, then pick ONE Gir ... just one!" He was standing nearby, examining a large metal mailbox he'd apparently dragged into his base. "I am TRYING to master the stink beasts' PRIMITIVE communications systems!" He slowly and carefully approached the door, and then suddenly felt brave and peeked inside. Due to his incredible shortness, however, he could not get a satisfactory view. He tried propping himself up on his mechanical spider legs, but they made him too tall. With a growl of frustration, he went to the kitchen to find something to stand on. He eventually came back, carrying a chair. He set it down, and climbed on top. He then peered down into the nebulous blackness within the grim metal mailbox, and proceeded to fall in. "AHHHH! They've booby trapped their ... BOXES! Help me, Gir! HELP ME!"
Gir watched as his master struggled with the mail box. "OooOOooOh! It's gonna eat your head!" He said this jumping up and down, smiling in apparent glee.
Zim's head popped out of the mailbox, and he plummeted to the floor. His cranium was covered in scratches and scrapes. He quickly stood and glared at his robot! "GIR! What's wrong with you? Didn't you see that my HEAD was being DEVOURED? Why didn't you save me?"
Gir tilted his head – he was either thinking or didn't understand the question. "Um ... " His attention was then commanded by the television once more. "OOOHH! This is my favorite show!" He sat down and glued his eyes to the screen. "It's sooooo pretty!"
This time Zim's rage was uncontrollable. He reached out his arms and flexed his fingers, as if he was about to strangle his idiotic SIR, when something caught his attention. "Yes, this is a beautifully decorated kitchen," said a syrupy sweet voice on the television. "Most importantly, there isn't a toilet in sight. As everybody knows, it would be absolutely inhuman, yes, IN-human to have a toilet in the kitchen. So, if you want to be a perfectly normal and fashionable human, then a toilet in the kitchen is a definite no-no!" The decorator gave a painfully wide smile to the audience and wagged her perfectly manicured finger.
"GAH! GIR! I can't believe I've OVERLOOKED this flaw in my disguise! QUICKLY! We must destroy the toilet!"
Zim was just about to turn around and do just that when he was stopped cold. "And make sure to watch our next program," added the bubbly voice, "Stunning Living Rooms that will Paralyze Your Friends with Awe!"
"WHAT? They have ROOMS that STUN! I must learn of this technology! GIR! Quickly, get me sustenance! I must watch this ... stuff." Zim watched as the blue-eyed robot flew to the kitchen, and then took his place at the couch, intent on the advice the decorator gave.
###This chapter is very short for me, but I see it as more of a prolog than anything else. Also, I'm still trying to decide if this should remain a pure comedy, or if I should throw some Dib-Gretchen romance in there.
Gir sat idly on the couch, flipping through channel after channel. He might have been looking for something in particular, or he might have just wanted to watch everything at once. Either way, the incessant ever changing noise was irritating his master.
"GIR! If you MUST watch those MINDLESS ... er ...visual ... information ... THINGS, then pick ONE Gir ... just one!" He was standing nearby, examining a large metal mailbox he'd apparently dragged into his base. "I am TRYING to master the stink beasts' PRIMITIVE communications systems!" He slowly and carefully approached the door, and then suddenly felt brave and peeked inside. Due to his incredible shortness, however, he could not get a satisfactory view. He tried propping himself up on his mechanical spider legs, but they made him too tall. With a growl of frustration, he went to the kitchen to find something to stand on. He eventually came back, carrying a chair. He set it down, and climbed on top. He then peered down into the nebulous blackness within the grim metal mailbox, and proceeded to fall in. "AHHHH! They've booby trapped their ... BOXES! Help me, Gir! HELP ME!"
Gir watched as his master struggled with the mail box. "OooOOooOh! It's gonna eat your head!" He said this jumping up and down, smiling in apparent glee.
Zim's head popped out of the mailbox, and he plummeted to the floor. His cranium was covered in scratches and scrapes. He quickly stood and glared at his robot! "GIR! What's wrong with you? Didn't you see that my HEAD was being DEVOURED? Why didn't you save me?"
Gir tilted his head – he was either thinking or didn't understand the question. "Um ... " His attention was then commanded by the television once more. "OOOHH! This is my favorite show!" He sat down and glued his eyes to the screen. "It's sooooo pretty!"
This time Zim's rage was uncontrollable. He reached out his arms and flexed his fingers, as if he was about to strangle his idiotic SIR, when something caught his attention. "Yes, this is a beautifully decorated kitchen," said a syrupy sweet voice on the television. "Most importantly, there isn't a toilet in sight. As everybody knows, it would be absolutely inhuman, yes, IN-human to have a toilet in the kitchen. So, if you want to be a perfectly normal and fashionable human, then a toilet in the kitchen is a definite no-no!" The decorator gave a painfully wide smile to the audience and wagged her perfectly manicured finger.
"GAH! GIR! I can't believe I've OVERLOOKED this flaw in my disguise! QUICKLY! We must destroy the toilet!"
Zim was just about to turn around and do just that when he was stopped cold. "And make sure to watch our next program," added the bubbly voice, "Stunning Living Rooms that will Paralyze Your Friends with Awe!"
"WHAT? They have ROOMS that STUN! I must learn of this technology! GIR! Quickly, get me sustenance! I must watch this ... stuff." Zim watched as the blue-eyed robot flew to the kitchen, and then took his place at the couch, intent on the advice the decorator gave.
###This chapter is very short for me, but I see it as more of a prolog than anything else. Also, I'm still trying to decide if this should remain a pure comedy, or if I should throw some Dib-Gretchen romance in there.