All disclaimers still apply, namely, don't expect any romance, DO NOT try this yourselves, and most important of all, I don't own Invader Zim or any of these characters. Jhonen Vasquez does.
Chapter Two: Suppertime
Dib threw out the microwave dinner package and pondered how to approach his family. They had never been particularly receptive to his forays into the paranormal, but surely this would be different. On the other hand, he'd held a similar optimism a few hours earlier too.
Scattered sounds rose from his father's lab in the basement; Gaz was hard at work zapping vampire piggies in the living room as usual. Though reluctant to disturb either of them, Dib quickly decided to approach his father first. However, the book had warned in no uncertain terms against having skeptics present, so Dib knew he'd have to change his father's mind somehow, and quickly.
Dib walked as far as the doorway and stood there for a while, watching the shadows shimmering around the room. He wondered why his father needed an acetylene torch to make toast in a lab instead of a toaster in the kitchen, the way Dib himself did. Finally Dib walked up to his father and waited until the Professor reached a pause before speaking up.
"Dad, would you like - "
"Shh - shh - shh- shh - shh! Not now, son, I'm making... toast!"
"Can I help?"
"Yes yes in a minute. Just don't bother me now!"
"Yes, this can wait until you're done, Dad, but I think you'll really want to see what I'm - "
"You're right son! The kids who watch my show will really want to see this!"
Dib took a deep breath. "Dad, just please listen to me. This is important - "
"Oh, yes it is son! It certainly is. So watch and learn about the wonders of science!"
"I found out how to have a seance! It'll work and - "
"How many times have I told you not to use my lab for your paranormal junk!" Professor Membrane turned aside to add a fresh substance to his formula and when he faced Dib again, seemed to notice him for the first time. "Yes, do you want something, son?"
"I found complete instructions, so it'll be just like one of your experiments!" Dib was pleased with the way he thought of phrasing it. "It WILL work, Dad! And we don't even have to hold it in the lab. In fact it would be much better if we didn't."
"Instructions? Instructions for what? What'll work?" The Professor sounded genuinely puzzled.
"My seance, Dad. I'm having a seance, and - "
The Professor sighed. "Very well, if you must. Just don't stay out too late, it's a skool night. Just
remember, the real science is here!" He waved the torch briefly and returned to his procedure.
Dib looked pleadingly toward his father's face, hidden now by a welder's mask on top of the thick glasses and lab coat. He tried again, speaking slowly to minimize the chance of yet another misunderstanding.
"No, Dad, please. I do not have to leave the house to do this. This is something we can all do here together, as a family, you, me, and Gaz. I promise, Dad, this will be..." Dib swallowed hard. "...really, really special." He took a step closer. "Please, Dad, I need your help. It works better with more-"
"Don't get too close, son, I need enough room to prepare the materials for my show this week!"
Dib stepped back to oblige his father. "And when you're done, then we can have the seance? "
"Science, not seance!" said the Professor cheerfully. "One of these days you'll realize that seances are nothing more than hoaxes and frauds."
The lump in Dib's throat was coming back. Torn between leaving now so he wouldn't cry in front of his father and making one more attempt, Dib forced himself to ask, "But Dad, wouldn't you like to see - "
"Yes, I would, son, but I'll have to wait before you follow in my footsteps. It's a good thing I'm such a patient man!"
The basement swam before Dib's eyes. Quickly, without another word he turned around before raising a hand to wipe them clear so he wouldn't fall running back up the stairs. Then he fled.
Professor Membrane shook his head. "My poor, insane son." Then he continued his preparations.
Dib composed himself and considered what to do next. Only one possibility now remained, his sister Gaz, never especially approachable at the best of times. As usual, she was settled in the living room, seeking to rise to yet another level of "Bloodsucking Vampire Piggies of Doom."
Dib seemed to recall the book saying children should never attend a seance, and Dib spent some time deciding whether this was an actual prohibition or just a general suggestion. His desire soon won out, and Dib slowly sat on the other sofa, diagonally from Gaz, knowing he could be in for a long wait. No one at the arcade could make a quarter last longer than Gaz could.
Dib worked his way through the TV guide, all the magazines he could find in the room, as well as the previous week's newspapers, fighting back urges to read out loud, comment on articles, or most suicidal of all, call Gaz's attention to anything especially interesting. With the nearest reading materials exhausted, Dib sat back to listen to the steady clacking of buttons, zapping sounds, and shrieks of the creatures onscreen. What seemed like hours passed and Dib suddenly realized he was hungry again. He went to the kitchen and came back with two warmed up toaster pastries, one of which he cautiously placed on the coffee table within Gaz's reach before eating the other. He cleared his throat and burped.
"Shut. Up. Weirdo." Gaz ground out, her voice sounding like a rusty, unoiled hinge on the gate of Hell. "Don't. Make. Me. Lose. My. Game."
Dib thought of assuring her that he wouldn't, but thought better of it. He shifted to find a more comfortable position on the sofa and prepared to wait a while longer. Gaz's breaks from her gaming sessions were rare and fleeting. As Dib began listening to the flow of the action once again, it happened.
Gaz had finally reached the limit of expertise for any kindergartener, no matter how skilled. Two targets appeared on opposite sides of the screen at the same instant. Gaz destroyed one, and just as she'd turned her cursor around and reached for the button to fire again, was herself eliminated. Her face glowed red in the reflected glare of the "Game Over" message.
The room was now ominously silent except for Gaz's hissing as she seethed with fury. Too late, Dib realized this wasn't the best time to ask, and far from the best place to be right now, either. But he didn't dare move, didn't dare even breathe.
Gaz's head slowly turned to face Dib... the long way around, her eyes glowing coals of rage. Nevertheless, she spoke as slowly and as evenly as if nothing had happened, and whenever she did this, Dib's blood ran cold.
"You did it this time."
Dib could only stare in bewilderment. What? How? He hadn't DONE anything!
Gaz's voice picked up speed and intensity. "You're still doing it."
Dib began to sweat as Gaz began sliding off her chair.
"You're STARING at me."
Dib groped for words.
Gaz's voice grew until the last word was a shriek of utterly unbridled rage. "You STARED... at me... until... I... LOST... MYY... GAAAAAAAME!!! " The house shook.
Dib planted a foot to make a run for it just as Gaz launched herself from the sofa but he was half a second too late. Gaz caught the edge of his trench coat, whipped him backwards, and unleashed a furious hail of kicks and punches. Strictly forbidden to hit girls, Dib backed away until he bumped into the chair, lost his balance and fell across the seat. Curling her fingers into claws, Gaz swept Dib's glasses to the floor, reaching next for his eyes. "No! Not my eyes!" gasped Dib, automatically grabbing her wrists to blunt her frenzied attack.
Outraged even more, if that could be possible, Gaz howled, "HOW... DARE... YOU... TOUCH... ME!!" and jerked her knee savagely. Dib jackknifed. Breathless and paralyzed with agony, he could offer no resistance as Gaz grabbed him by his hair spike and slammed his face into the corner of the coffee table. Again... and again... and again... and...
Some time after Gaz felt like returning to her Game Slave, and as soon as Dib found his glasses and could finally walk again, he staggered to the fridge for some ice cubes which he wrapped in cup towels. He sank onto a chair at the kitchen table and held the ice packs to the places that hurt the most, by now too just plain dejected to cry.
When the last ice cube had finally melted, he sat up straight and sighed deeply. Could a seance work with just one person? Dib seemed to remember the book cautioning strongly against holding a seance by yourself, as you could very well go insane. Well, no problem there, Dib thought bitterly. Everyone already says I'm insane. What do I have to lose? Not my mind, that's for sure.
The main question was, would the procedure still work? There was only one way to find out.