Ducking Work
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: references to Hamstergeddon, Career Day, The Wettening and Attack of the Saucer Morons. But not particularly spoilery.
DISCLAIMER: Zim and Gir, Ms. Bitters and Spoo all belong to Jhonen Vasquez. I don't particularly want Johnny the Homicidal Maniac after me, so allow me to state categorically that this is just for fun, and no way do I get anything other than pleasure from this!
NOTES: for cillygirl for her birthday. I hope you enioy it, hon!
THANKS: to FuzzyBen for his comments; and to Vasquez for his weird brain.
Ms. Bitters was even crabbier than usual. Spoo, in particular, had felt the wrath that was the stapler, and was dangling uncomfortably from back wall, the rear of his pants thoroughly attached to the plaster. Every once in a while he whimpered, and Ms Bitters cackled and fired another staple in his direction, before returning to her torment of the rest of the class. Zim found this rather amusing, and was busily drawing plans for a Stapler of DOOM™ that would crush this recalcitrant city. It was going to succeed far more .... successfully .... than the Hamster plan, he was certain.
"Zim!" yelled Ms. Bitters. Reluctantly, he raised his head.
"Yes, Ms. Bitters?"
"What do you think you're doing?"
Zim looked crafty. He glanced quickly at Dib, who was glaring at him, and then back at the paper in front of him. He put on his best innocent, stupider-than-Brian face. It was rather scary. "I'm doing Dib's homework. He said that if I didn't he was going to claim that I was an alien and get me dissected." He glanced at Dib again, and stuck his tongue out at him. Dib's glare had escalated to pulsating eyes of DOOM.
Ms. Bitters looked thoughtful. "Well, Dib, I didn't know I had it in you." Dib smirked at Zim. "Now get to the Principal's Office! And take this with you." Dib stood, confused, and she pulled a large scale-model of a carnival out from behind her desk. The ferris wheel creaked menacingly. Spoo whimpered. "Don't just stand there! He needs this THREE MINUTES AGO!" She thrust it into his arms, then picked up her stapler and flung a scattershot toward the end of the room. "Shut up, Spoo," she said.
Dib staggered from the room, still looking confused at the turn of events. Zim raised his chin in triumph, looked around the room, then prepared to return to his Stapler of DOOM™ blueprint.
"Zim!"
He sighed. "Yes, Ms. Bitters?"
"Given that you're being bullied so baaaaaadly," she stretched the word out like chewing gum, "you'll be the ideal candidate. You get to go out into the workforce, be worked as a slave until you drop, and made some money so we can replace this stapler." She shook it, and fired another round. "We need a big RED one. You've got an interview at the hospital in three minutes, so I suggest you run!" She cackled wildly, and Zim slid from his chair, carefully slid his plans into his backpack, and then leapt out the window. Spoo watched longingly as Zim disappeared from view.
"Freedom!" he crowed. His communication device curled over his head. "Gir!"
A fuzzy green face appeared on the screen. "Sir?"
"GIR! I require transport. I'm at the skool." Within seconds, the hovership landed on the jungle-gym. "Not there! Here!" He pointed at the ground, and the ship lifted up, shifted sideways three feet, and then landed. Zim trotted over to it, and let himself in.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"I have a Job Interview." The words echoed. "I will take over the world, starting with the hospital. Let us go!"
The hovercraft lifted off again, and flew across the road to the hospital entrance. It settled down directly in front of the automatic doors, and they opened and closed dramatically as Zim excited his vehicle, and entered the building. "Wait here, Gir," he commanded. "And don't get discovered!"
Zim walked through the waiting area and up to the reception desk. A ditzy girl was sitting there, looking blank. "Hello," said Zim, a little unsure. She whirred into action.
"The doctors are all busy what is the nature of your emergency take a seat a doctor will see you shortly are you suffering a heart attack we have no beds available right now," she babbled. A loud click sounded, and she slumped back with her mouth open. A thin strand of drool began to form.
"I am here for a Job Interview. Where do I go?" There was no reply, and looking around curiously, he wandered up the nearest corridor. He'd gone three steps when he was grabbed by the scruff of the collar. He shrieked in surprise.
A gravelly voice said, "I've been waiting for you." Zim craned his head upward, past the large hairy hand holding him off the ground. Looming over him was a fat greasy man in gray coveralls. "You're late. Not a good start to your interview."
Zim wriggled free, extended his spider arms, and lifted himself to the height of the man's head. "Ah. You're my Interviewer. I am Zim. You will employ me here, so I can take over the world!" He paused. "What is the job that I am to be doing?"
The man chuckled, sounding like rocks going over a waterfall and being crushed into dust below. "Come with me."
They were sitting in a small cluttered room, with an overhead light that had been turned on with a pull-string. It swung wildly, causing the shadows to sway across the room. Looking around, Zim could see a mop in a bucket, shelves full of sprays, and a toilet brush shaped like a duck.
The large man was seated behind a very small desk, scribbling on a piece of paper. He had put glasses on, and looked quite serious, in a grimy sort of way. "Right. Your name, please?"
"I am Zim!"
"Last name?"
"Er ... Invad. Middle initial R." A quick save, he thought to himself.
"OK." He wrote for a few seconds. "Why do you want this job?"
"To take over the w ..." He stopped. "Hang on – what IS this job?"
The man lumbered to his feet, stood erect, saluted, and intoned: "Hospital Sanitary Technician." Then he slumped back into his seat. Zim blinked, shook his head, then blinked again. He had no idea what that was, but it still sounded good. "So. Why do you want this job?"
Zim went back to his original answer. "To take over the world!" There was no response except for the noise of pencil moving across the paper. Finally, the man looked up.
"OK. You're hired. Here's your mop, here's your bucket, here's your toilet brush." He handed Zim the duck, which quacked. Zim recoiled. "You'll start on the third floor."
"What's there?" Zim asked.
"That's our Chronic Vomiters Ward. You'll really get into the job there." The big man grinned, his grimy teeth flashing grimily in the grimy swinging light.
Zim decided rather rapidly that he didn't like being a Hospital Sanitary Technician, and that there were better ways of taking over the world than mopping vomit. He was thinking about altering his Wettening Device™ to create a Vomit Rain effect, but the thought of gathering that much spew in one place made him feel queasy. Reaching a conclusion, he dropped the mop, pulled out his communicator and called for Gir. "Gir!"
"Yeeeeees?"
"I've had enough. Get me out of here!" A few seconds later, the hovercraft zoomed out of the elevator, heading directly for Zim. It landed directly on a fresh patch of vomit, sending sprays out and over the patient-filled beds. Zim cunningly avoided it by wrapping himself in a plastic curtain. He pulled it free from the railing, and leapt into the hovercraft. "Let's go, Gir!" he shouted.
"Wheeee!" Gir was impressed at the maneuverability of the hovercraft, and buzzed the patients as he turned them around. Sheets fluttered in the backdraft, along with hospital gowns. Reaching the elevator, a claw popped out of the front and pressed the 'Down' button. They waited patiently for the doors to open.
"Gir?"
No response.
"Gir!"
"Yes, sir!"
"The doors are open." They zoomed into the elevator. As the hovercraft nestled behind a very fat lady in a hospital gown and next to a crib full of babies, Zim said, "Remind me to vomit on Dib when I see him next."
Gir replied brightly, "OK!"
They zoomed out of the hospital, and as they headed for home, there came the noise ... of a duck. Zim shrieked. "Gir! Get rid of the toilet duck, now!" A small object plummeted from the hovercraft, and then spread its wings and flew after them.
"Quack!" The Toilet Duck of DOOM™ was after them, but Zim always did like a challenge. He began planning how to destroy the duck, only unsplattered survivor of his stint as Sanitary Technician. It must be stopped. "I shall get you, evil duck," he muttered to himself as they zoomed homewards. "Just you wait and see."