Chapter 2
Harold the slug prayed for death. Once a happy, productive member of slug society, he was now a hideously deformed mass of slug-flesh, cotton, and rubber. He knew that he was an early mistake in his captor's evil plans. Intended to be the ultimate slug warrior, with all the strengths of a slug and none of its weaknesses, he was instead a horribly botched experiment: To be learned from, never corrected. He gasped, using his newfound telepathic powers to call out to his abuser, with a simple plea: "Salt me…please salt me!" Instead, Zim shoved another rubber hose through him.
Zim cackled evilly to himself - the malleability serum was working wonderfully. Of course, he had invented it, so that was no surprise. "Truly I am amazing!" he said to the suicidal slug on the table. Unfortunately, this specimen didn't seem to be holding up any better than the last ones. Already, its eye-stocks had a dull, glazed-over look. Zim wondered idly how many more socks it could take before it finally died. It turned out to be three.
Zim grabbed the malleability serum and eyed it. Although an amazing success and yet further evidence of his clear superiority, there was room for improvement. It still took nearly an entire bottle to make a single slug pliable enough to stick rubber hose through. With a little practice, he would be able to fuse two slugs together, and then two more, and so on, until he had a slug so large it could crush the humans and leave them squirming in a trail of slimy DOOM ! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha! He picked up his latest experiment to throw into the trash, turned around and -
Flash!
Zim was momentarily blinded by the strobe of Dib's camera.
"Now I have you, you alien goon. Now people will have to believe me wh - Oh gross what is that thing?" yelped Dib, pointing a shaky finger at Harold's remains.
"Uh…What?" said Zim, hiding the slug / rubber hose / cotton sock blob behind his back. Briefly, the "Rules of the Irken Invader" flashed through his mind. The first rule is: "Do not get discovered". The second rule is, of course, "Destroy anyone who discovers you". The third rule is, quite logically, "Don't get discovered again." With minor addendums, these directives cover rules four to seven-hundred twenty three, followed by rules regarding the safety, storage, and preparation of snacks. Right now though, thought Zim grimly, was no time for snacks.
"That thing!" yelled Dib, "That hideous slug-thing! What sick alien perversion of nature have you created Zim?"
"Oh, uh, this thing? Why that's just my uh, my pet slock-monster. I, uh, love him dearly…" Zim held the twisted slug-corpse to his chest.
"Man, Zim, that's lame, even for you. I'm in your base, already!" Dib exclaimed. He raised the camera to his eye to take another picture. Suddenly, Harold the slock-monster hit him squarely upside the head, and Zim tackled him around the waist.
It was an epic struggle, man (boy) vs alien (green boy). The walls shook with the force of the pounding fists (they were surprisingly weak walls). Neither was willing to give ground, neither to surrender. The only options were grim, screaming death or glorious victory, and both -
"Ouch, quit it!" shrieked Did as Zim rubbed his knuckles into his head furiously. "That really hurts!"
"Take that, Earth-stink" Cried Zim. He flipped the squirming Dib over, straddling him. He raised his fist to land the killing slap.
"Nooooo!" cried Dib, raising his hands defensively.
Zim cackled maniacally…
Something broke…
Zim looked down at his crotch, and screamed. The bottle of malleability serum had been crushed, and was now seeping between him and his sworn enemy.
"Hey? What the?" gasped Dib, as they began to merge, molecular bonds shifting and reforming. "What is that stu- !"
Zim tried to jump off, but it was too late, the two had fused. Zim was now "buried", waist deep, in Dib.
"Oh, oh, this is just gross!" yelled Dib, gaping in horror at their misshapen predicament. It looked like Zim was growing out of his crotch. He wanted to vomit.
Zim looked around him, desperate to find some way to reverse the effect. "No! What have I done! This is just, I mean, this is really…your fault earth pig!"
"What? My fault? You're the one who made this creepy stuff."
"You fool! Only a stinking, filthy, ugly, smelly, big-headed human would fuse himself to an Irken invader! I will crush your species, after I am free of your hideous, hey, what are you…sit down you fool!"
Dib grunted with Zim's weight on (in?) his lap as he struggled to his feet. He finally managed to stand, despite Zim's attempts to keep him down. Now, Zim was hanging from his crotch, head on the floor, trying desperately to right himself.
"Sit down this minute stink-boy!" Zim cried, wiggling to and fro.
"Stop that Zim!" cried Dib. He was having a hard time maintaining his balance, with Zim waving his body about. "I'm going to fall!" Dib yelled as both of them toppled over, landing with Zim on the bottom.
"Ughhh, get off of me!"
"Believe me, I'm trying!" Dib grunted, trying to right himself. Their faces were uncomfortably close. Each winced at the others gruesome foulness. Gasping, Zim pushed against Dib's chest, but the two arch-nemeses were stuck fast. Finally, Dib managed to roll to the side, leaving the pair panting on the floor.
"Ok Zim…There's obviously no way we can solve this by fighting, we're just going to have to- Ow ! Hey!" Dib yelped as Zim began poking him with one of his spider legs. The leg's tip was glowing green. Zim was going to cut himself out! Dib swatted away the leg.
"Grr. If you expect me to stay fused to your inferior hide, you are greatly mistaken Dib-monster." Zim breathed icily. "Humans sleep, Irkens do not…"
"Zim, I hate you, and you hate me…but there has to be a way out of this without killing one of us. You must have made an antidote!"
"Invaders have no need of antidotes! Antidotes are for failures!"
"Well, what do you call this?"
"A temporary set-back. Soon I will cut my way through your horrible meat-body, and then…" Dib hit him over the head with a rubber hose, and all went lavender (Irkens lavender-out, you see). Gir walked by, slurping a poop-cola. He stopped, waved at the hapless and hideously deformed spectacle of his master and his greatest enemy, and continued towards the elevator. Dib grunted to his feet, hoisted Zim by the antennae, and went home...