Title: Invader Zim and the Mid-life Crisis of Red, Chapter Four: Ninja-Dib
Author: Just Zim, pretty much all by myself now. If it weren't for
Red&Purple standing behind me with a cattle prod, though, I'd probably stop
writing.
A/N: This chapter seemed a little long and awkward to me, but I wasn't
exactly sure what I should do to fix it. Anyway, this particular part of
the story is dedicated to Kaity from my school, who is...um...I dunno, worthy
of something dedicated to her. But not anything too big, because we don't
want it going to her head.
At last, at 12:00 filthy Earthen slug time, blackness closed in around Red's vision and sent him off into an unconscious state. Either that or coma-land. Either one was a welcome location. GIR had grown bored of the sordid relationship between Socklady and Mr. Bacon, and had curled up in a large salad bowl fetched from the kitchen to snooze quietly.
So, it was mid-afternoon, and all through the base, not a creature was stirring, unless you count GIR's face (which was twitching madly in response to a dream about lime-flavored Poop cola.)
But, exactly as the digital readout clock above the stove clicked 12:01, things were slightly less peaceful at Zim's base. You see, while Zim had correctly gauged the gross ignorance of Earth's population, he had forgotten the one Earth being who was not that ignorant at all. The one who had an eye on Zim 24-7, even when he was sleeping. When he was eating. And when he was bathing. And don't go thinking that's sick and perverted, because Irkens don't even have genders and, genetically at least, are the equivalents of robots. Hah! Soil that with your disgustingly fertile little shipper minds! Ahem, sorry. On with the story.
I am, of course, talking about Dib. While Zim's neighbors had not noticed the enormous smoking crater in the Irken's yard, Dib had. And because his father was probably too busy to notice if one of his children sprouted a third eyeball and randomly secreted noxious green slime, Dib figured he could skip a day of skool without attracting any undue attention.
That all settled by the time noon came around, the paranormal expert-in- training donned his most expensive, all-black ninja-wear, which he failed to realize was horribly conspicuous in the day time, not to mention itchy and hot. It did make him feel stealthy though, which was what he was going for.
Ninja-wear sufficiently donned, Dib loaded a black backpack with a video camera, a grapple-hook, some suction gloves, and masking tape. Because you never know when you might need masking tape. Then he tucked a loaded Supersoaker under his arm and crept to Zim's house. Dib kept the cover of bushes, mailboxes, parked cars, and catatonic sidewalk-lounging puppies as he went. The street was empty, but you never knew when someone might be watching.
But as it turned out, Dib had overdone it, just a bit. The lawn gnomes didn't so much as twitch as he stepped onto the property; in fact, nothing at all happened. No lasers abruptly firing, no sirens wailing, no green- skinned alien attacking him on giant metal spider legs...zip.
And the door was wide open.
"It's got to be a trap...hah, I've outsmarted you trying to outsmart me, ZIM!" Dib muttered to himself, smirking. He slunk a little nearer to the door and fired a jet of water through the doorway, in case Zim was hiding in the shadows, or there was anything motion-tripped waiting in there. He then flinched backwards as if waiting for an explosion, but all he heard was a dog barking somewhere a few streets away. He opened his eyes and straightened, then squared his shoulders and dove through the doorway.
He somersaulted clumsily into the dark living room and bolted to his feet, water gun at the ready. Complete silence greeted his ears, no matter how long he waited for something with teeth to pop out at him.
When nothing did, he slowly straightened and crept spider-like towards the kitchen. The soft sounds of breathing reached him; a wheezy, mechanical breathing interspersed with giggles and mutterings of bathing in something bubbly, and the steadier, deeper sound of something fairly large, with the hint of a snore. They both were clearly asleep, as their breath was much louder and more rhythmic than normal.
Tensing up, Dib's psyche changed from that of a ninja to that of a SWAT- team captain. Very quickly. Dib pressed one shoulder against the doorframe leading into the kitchen and paused, listening for any change in the breathing noises. When all seemed safe, he leaped into the tile kitchen and aimed his gun straight ahead of him.
"Freeze! I'm draggin' your sorry alien butt to jail, Zim!" Dib yelled, deepening his voice just a bit.
But Zim wasn't there. What was there, however, was a strange little humanoid robot curled up in a bowl and...at first Dib thought the mess on the table was the wreckage of a small vehicle, like a go-cart or something. But when he examined it closer, it proved to be breathing. Then Dib sighted a bald green ahead amidst the shards of metal and machinery, and his eyes widened as he quickly scrabbled to get his hands on his video camera.
Even though Dib wouldn't know an Irken ruler if it bit him in the face, he instinctively knew that with this discovery on the table, he had struck the mother lode.
Meanwhile, back at Planet Irk, Deya had just finished donning her Red-wear when an obese and pompous-looking Advisor strode into the room. When he spoke, it was as if he were talking to a great crowd of people, not just her.
"My Tallest Red, your presence is required in the video room." He thundered, his eyes focused somewhere on the far wall.
"What? What for?" Deya asked nervously, crossing her arms.
"Probing Day, of course!" The Advisor responded, his beady dark green eyes meeting hers for a moment in a subtle warning. "Surely my almighty Tallest knew this day was approaching."
"Oh...well, naturally. I thought you meant the other video room, which is, you know...not for Probing Day and...and stuff." She amended unconvincingly, and thought she detected a small sigh slumping the shoulders of the self- important Advisor. Nevertheless, he said no more and simply waddled out of the room. Deya followed, admiring how smoothly her hoverbelt kept her up. No stinking on-foot travel for her anymore; now she hovered! In the middle of making up a theme song involving hovering, the Advisor turned and regarded her with a well-masked confused expression.
"My Tallest, why are you following me?" He questioned, tilting his head and watching her closely. Deya blinked and looked around.
"I was just proceeding to the video room with you..." She stammered, then tried to clasp her hands and only succeeded in slamming the two metal armguards together loudly. The taller Irken winced, wishing she could move her thumb and third finger. But they'd been hidden inside the armor, jammed in ridiculously small metal cavities carved for them. It hurt. A lot.
"But...I'm going to the restroom..." The Advisor said slowly, and Deya noticed that he stood in front of the door to male's restroom. Exactly how she could tell it was the male's, we will probably never know because the plaque on the female's restroom next door was exactly the same as the male's. But she obviously knew the difference, as her antennae tips curled in an expression of embarrassment. Luckily, the Advisor quickly continued as several janitors stopped to watch them curiously.
"Although of course you knew that, My Tallest...and of course you knew that the video room is on the floor above this, three doors left from the snack bar..."
"Of course I did." Deya replied, lifting her head and trying to sound as arrogant as possible.
When at last she arrived at the proper room, Purple was waiting impatiently for her. He had already brought up the alphabetical list of Invaders, and his cursor was impatiently hovering over 'Alexovich – Splenda, Planet of the Man-Eating Sugar Packets' which was first on the list.
"Finally, Red! Come on, sit down. I have a great idea for this year! Two words; flamenco dancing!" He shouted gleefully. Deya sat, and the Probing commenced.
At last, at 12:00 filthy Earthen slug time, blackness closed in around Red's vision and sent him off into an unconscious state. Either that or coma-land. Either one was a welcome location. GIR had grown bored of the sordid relationship between Socklady and Mr. Bacon, and had curled up in a large salad bowl fetched from the kitchen to snooze quietly.
So, it was mid-afternoon, and all through the base, not a creature was stirring, unless you count GIR's face (which was twitching madly in response to a dream about lime-flavored Poop cola.)
But, exactly as the digital readout clock above the stove clicked 12:01, things were slightly less peaceful at Zim's base. You see, while Zim had correctly gauged the gross ignorance of Earth's population, he had forgotten the one Earth being who was not that ignorant at all. The one who had an eye on Zim 24-7, even when he was sleeping. When he was eating. And when he was bathing. And don't go thinking that's sick and perverted, because Irkens don't even have genders and, genetically at least, are the equivalents of robots. Hah! Soil that with your disgustingly fertile little shipper minds! Ahem, sorry. On with the story.
I am, of course, talking about Dib. While Zim's neighbors had not noticed the enormous smoking crater in the Irken's yard, Dib had. And because his father was probably too busy to notice if one of his children sprouted a third eyeball and randomly secreted noxious green slime, Dib figured he could skip a day of skool without attracting any undue attention.
That all settled by the time noon came around, the paranormal expert-in- training donned his most expensive, all-black ninja-wear, which he failed to realize was horribly conspicuous in the day time, not to mention itchy and hot. It did make him feel stealthy though, which was what he was going for.
Ninja-wear sufficiently donned, Dib loaded a black backpack with a video camera, a grapple-hook, some suction gloves, and masking tape. Because you never know when you might need masking tape. Then he tucked a loaded Supersoaker under his arm and crept to Zim's house. Dib kept the cover of bushes, mailboxes, parked cars, and catatonic sidewalk-lounging puppies as he went. The street was empty, but you never knew when someone might be watching.
But as it turned out, Dib had overdone it, just a bit. The lawn gnomes didn't so much as twitch as he stepped onto the property; in fact, nothing at all happened. No lasers abruptly firing, no sirens wailing, no green- skinned alien attacking him on giant metal spider legs...zip.
And the door was wide open.
"It's got to be a trap...hah, I've outsmarted you trying to outsmart me, ZIM!" Dib muttered to himself, smirking. He slunk a little nearer to the door and fired a jet of water through the doorway, in case Zim was hiding in the shadows, or there was anything motion-tripped waiting in there. He then flinched backwards as if waiting for an explosion, but all he heard was a dog barking somewhere a few streets away. He opened his eyes and straightened, then squared his shoulders and dove through the doorway.
He somersaulted clumsily into the dark living room and bolted to his feet, water gun at the ready. Complete silence greeted his ears, no matter how long he waited for something with teeth to pop out at him.
When nothing did, he slowly straightened and crept spider-like towards the kitchen. The soft sounds of breathing reached him; a wheezy, mechanical breathing interspersed with giggles and mutterings of bathing in something bubbly, and the steadier, deeper sound of something fairly large, with the hint of a snore. They both were clearly asleep, as their breath was much louder and more rhythmic than normal.
Tensing up, Dib's psyche changed from that of a ninja to that of a SWAT- team captain. Very quickly. Dib pressed one shoulder against the doorframe leading into the kitchen and paused, listening for any change in the breathing noises. When all seemed safe, he leaped into the tile kitchen and aimed his gun straight ahead of him.
"Freeze! I'm draggin' your sorry alien butt to jail, Zim!" Dib yelled, deepening his voice just a bit.
But Zim wasn't there. What was there, however, was a strange little humanoid robot curled up in a bowl and...at first Dib thought the mess on the table was the wreckage of a small vehicle, like a go-cart or something. But when he examined it closer, it proved to be breathing. Then Dib sighted a bald green ahead amidst the shards of metal and machinery, and his eyes widened as he quickly scrabbled to get his hands on his video camera.
Even though Dib wouldn't know an Irken ruler if it bit him in the face, he instinctively knew that with this discovery on the table, he had struck the mother lode.
Meanwhile, back at Planet Irk, Deya had just finished donning her Red-wear when an obese and pompous-looking Advisor strode into the room. When he spoke, it was as if he were talking to a great crowd of people, not just her.
"My Tallest Red, your presence is required in the video room." He thundered, his eyes focused somewhere on the far wall.
"What? What for?" Deya asked nervously, crossing her arms.
"Probing Day, of course!" The Advisor responded, his beady dark green eyes meeting hers for a moment in a subtle warning. "Surely my almighty Tallest knew this day was approaching."
"Oh...well, naturally. I thought you meant the other video room, which is, you know...not for Probing Day and...and stuff." She amended unconvincingly, and thought she detected a small sigh slumping the shoulders of the self- important Advisor. Nevertheless, he said no more and simply waddled out of the room. Deya followed, admiring how smoothly her hoverbelt kept her up. No stinking on-foot travel for her anymore; now she hovered! In the middle of making up a theme song involving hovering, the Advisor turned and regarded her with a well-masked confused expression.
"My Tallest, why are you following me?" He questioned, tilting his head and watching her closely. Deya blinked and looked around.
"I was just proceeding to the video room with you..." She stammered, then tried to clasp her hands and only succeeded in slamming the two metal armguards together loudly. The taller Irken winced, wishing she could move her thumb and third finger. But they'd been hidden inside the armor, jammed in ridiculously small metal cavities carved for them. It hurt. A lot.
"But...I'm going to the restroom..." The Advisor said slowly, and Deya noticed that he stood in front of the door to male's restroom. Exactly how she could tell it was the male's, we will probably never know because the plaque on the female's restroom next door was exactly the same as the male's. But she obviously knew the difference, as her antennae tips curled in an expression of embarrassment. Luckily, the Advisor quickly continued as several janitors stopped to watch them curiously.
"Although of course you knew that, My Tallest...and of course you knew that the video room is on the floor above this, three doors left from the snack bar..."
"Of course I did." Deya replied, lifting her head and trying to sound as arrogant as possible.
When at last she arrived at the proper room, Purple was waiting impatiently for her. He had already brought up the alphabetical list of Invaders, and his cursor was impatiently hovering over 'Alexovich – Splenda, Planet of the Man-Eating Sugar Packets' which was first on the list.
"Finally, Red! Come on, sit down. I have a great idea for this year! Two words; flamenco dancing!" He shouted gleefully. Deya sat, and the Probing commenced.