A/N: Most gracious appreciation to Brainworm(). Thank You! Glad to keep
the suspense. ^_^ May you find the story continually intriguing. I will
do my best to do so. Again I repeat that constructive criticism is
acceptable if not encouraged.
Please disregard the obvious error on chapter 6. Day One is actually Day Two. I momentarily forgot how to count. !,!
Disclaimer: IDONOTOWNIZJHONENVASQUESDOES'NICKOWNSITTOO! BOOHAA!
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dib. Earth. Skool.
Day Two.
The walk to skool was uneventful if taxing. His head pounded most of the way there, but not as bad as when he first woke up. The horrendous trek up the stairs to the bathroom was difficult, but worth the pain and suffering. The aspirin he had taken was slowly starting to kick in and thought was coming easier. He hated days like this. And lately it seemed, days like this were happening more often.
"I'm going to have to find out why I'm getting so many headaches." He muttered to himself, raising a hand briefly to touch his forehead.
"How did I end up on the kitchen floor anyway?" He continued, his train of thought jumping to a new topic.
He ignored the looks he received from passers-by. He was use to their stares. It was something you got use to when most of the world thought you were crazy. (Of course, it didn't help that he always talked to himself.)
"I remember coming home from Zim's" He recalled, his fingers unconsciously playing with the Irken piece of metal he had found, "and talking to Gaz,"
He stopped and closed his eyes for a brief moment, running the events of last night through his pounding head.
"Then I went to the kitchen to eat something, then I, then.I don't remember what I did after that." He shook his head, then flinched in pain.
"I must have went upstairs and went to bed. But how did I end up back downstairs in the kitchen." He put his hand to his head, regretting his headshake.
He started to walk again, only to stop short.
"I got it! I must have sleepwalked." He mused, smiling to himself. "I use to do that all the time."
Dib. Flashback.
Age 3
Little Dib woke to find himself on the back porch of his house. It was night and snow was falling lightly from the darkened sky. He was dressed in his favorite PJs, the green ones with the little feet coverings, and little blue spaceships covering it. His favorite binkie, the yellow one with the blue straight-faced smileys on it, was wrapped tight around his tiny body, keeping him surprisingly warm. He sat staring up at the falling snow, fascinated by their hypnotic movement, as they made their way to the ground. He could hear his father busily walking around the house, and was surprised when his dad suddenly opened the sliding door.
"Son." He said with authority. "You should not be out here in your PJs.. You'll get a cold. I'm not scheduled to find the cure for the common cold for another 30 years. It would be unhealthy for you to stay out there!"
With those words, his dad swept him up into his arms and carried him to his bedroom. It was one of the few times Dib remembered his dad actually tucking him in.
As his father shut the door he remember hearing his dad say in a saddened voice, "My poor, insane son. Out on a night like this."
With a sigh, Dib rolled away from the door and snuggled deep in the blankets. Sleep already calling to him.
Dib. Earth. Skool. Continued.
Dib started walking again. He was pretty close to the skool now; he could see it looming over the playground, the dingy bricks posing an ominous promise of boring doom. Gaz was nowhere to be seen, not that he was afraid for her. He knew from experience that Gaz could take care of herself, even if his dad didn't always think so.
"What do you know about Gaz or me anyway, Dad." He asked sarcastically to the air. "Your never around enough to know anything about us."
Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't want to think about his father. It always leads to anger and resentment. He and Gaz might as well have been orphans.
His thoughts drifted to his mom as he entered the skool. He never really knew her. He didn't remember anything about her. But he made up stories about her, about what she would have been like. No one else knew that he wrote about her. Not even Gaz. He kept the pile of short stories under lock and key in a hidden compartment in his closet.
'She would have loved me.' He thought. He never talked about her aloud. It would have been like exposing his best-kept secret. She was an angel to him, or at least what he though of her as one. He'd often pretend that she was a paranormal investigator off discovering some great unknown, and that she would be returning home at any time. He liked to think that she knew him like no one else ever could, that she loved him unconditionally. That she supported his paranormal obsession, fully understanding that it was acceptable, that it was a legitimate science. And that someday she would return and tell his father that he wasn't insane. He simply didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps, that it was OK to be into that 'stuff'. That is what he thought she would have been like had she been there, supportive, loving, understanding. No, he never told anyone about what he thought about their mom, not Gaz, not his dad, no one. (Not like it was something that came up in the course of conversation anyway.) Yep, some things were best kept to oneself. Less chance of breaking a carefully constructed illusion.
He found himself staring at the entrance to his classroom. He didn't look forward to going inside, he know Mrs. Bitters would be waiting. He didn't like to admit it, but she scared him. He could face Vampires, Bigfoot, Chupacabras, but Mrs. Bitters was another story. He feared her more than supernatural being ever could. He often wondered if she wasn't something of the supernatural herself.
Steeling himself, he put his hand on the door. He could already feel his headache starting to worsen. With great trepidation he opened the door and went into the classroom.
"Dib! Your late!" Mrs. Bitters barked at him.
Her harsh tone caused his headache to flair. He flinched under the sudden sharp pain. Out of the corner of his eye, Dib could see Zim standing by his desk at the classroom entrance. It looked as if Dib had interrupted something. If he didn't feel so bad, he would have been happy about that. Zim rarely spoke up in class and when he did, it was usually to threaten people, ask stupid questions that any human would know, or gloat about his superiority.
"Sorry Mrs. Bitters." He said, glancing up at her intimidating figure. "I wasn't feeling very well this morning."
"What? Not vampire moles or zombie squirrels? That's a poor excuse, Dib." She hissed, "Now, Take your seat."
As she turned back towards Zim, Dib headed to his street.
Over the reawakened pain in his head, Dib barely heard Mrs. Bitters say "Now Zim, What did you want."
"Nothing Mrs. Bitters, Sir. My mighty need has passed." Came Zim's response.
He heard Mrs. Bitters let out a cross between a humph and a growl.
"Now, poor doomed children, we can see first hand why our society is doomed to be nothing more than a void of mindless minion serving an ungrateful society with their useless doomed lives."
Dib let out as sign and rubbed his eyes. It was going to be a long day.
Please disregard the obvious error on chapter 6. Day One is actually Day Two. I momentarily forgot how to count. !,!
Disclaimer: IDONOTOWNIZJHONENVASQUESDOES'NICKOWNSITTOO! BOOHAA!
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dib. Earth. Skool.
Day Two.
The walk to skool was uneventful if taxing. His head pounded most of the way there, but not as bad as when he first woke up. The horrendous trek up the stairs to the bathroom was difficult, but worth the pain and suffering. The aspirin he had taken was slowly starting to kick in and thought was coming easier. He hated days like this. And lately it seemed, days like this were happening more often.
"I'm going to have to find out why I'm getting so many headaches." He muttered to himself, raising a hand briefly to touch his forehead.
"How did I end up on the kitchen floor anyway?" He continued, his train of thought jumping to a new topic.
He ignored the looks he received from passers-by. He was use to their stares. It was something you got use to when most of the world thought you were crazy. (Of course, it didn't help that he always talked to himself.)
"I remember coming home from Zim's" He recalled, his fingers unconsciously playing with the Irken piece of metal he had found, "and talking to Gaz,"
He stopped and closed his eyes for a brief moment, running the events of last night through his pounding head.
"Then I went to the kitchen to eat something, then I, then.I don't remember what I did after that." He shook his head, then flinched in pain.
"I must have went upstairs and went to bed. But how did I end up back downstairs in the kitchen." He put his hand to his head, regretting his headshake.
He started to walk again, only to stop short.
"I got it! I must have sleepwalked." He mused, smiling to himself. "I use to do that all the time."
Dib. Flashback.
Age 3
Little Dib woke to find himself on the back porch of his house. It was night and snow was falling lightly from the darkened sky. He was dressed in his favorite PJs, the green ones with the little feet coverings, and little blue spaceships covering it. His favorite binkie, the yellow one with the blue straight-faced smileys on it, was wrapped tight around his tiny body, keeping him surprisingly warm. He sat staring up at the falling snow, fascinated by their hypnotic movement, as they made their way to the ground. He could hear his father busily walking around the house, and was surprised when his dad suddenly opened the sliding door.
"Son." He said with authority. "You should not be out here in your PJs.. You'll get a cold. I'm not scheduled to find the cure for the common cold for another 30 years. It would be unhealthy for you to stay out there!"
With those words, his dad swept him up into his arms and carried him to his bedroom. It was one of the few times Dib remembered his dad actually tucking him in.
As his father shut the door he remember hearing his dad say in a saddened voice, "My poor, insane son. Out on a night like this."
With a sigh, Dib rolled away from the door and snuggled deep in the blankets. Sleep already calling to him.
Dib. Earth. Skool. Continued.
Dib started walking again. He was pretty close to the skool now; he could see it looming over the playground, the dingy bricks posing an ominous promise of boring doom. Gaz was nowhere to be seen, not that he was afraid for her. He knew from experience that Gaz could take care of herself, even if his dad didn't always think so.
"What do you know about Gaz or me anyway, Dad." He asked sarcastically to the air. "Your never around enough to know anything about us."
Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't want to think about his father. It always leads to anger and resentment. He and Gaz might as well have been orphans.
His thoughts drifted to his mom as he entered the skool. He never really knew her. He didn't remember anything about her. But he made up stories about her, about what she would have been like. No one else knew that he wrote about her. Not even Gaz. He kept the pile of short stories under lock and key in a hidden compartment in his closet.
'She would have loved me.' He thought. He never talked about her aloud. It would have been like exposing his best-kept secret. She was an angel to him, or at least what he though of her as one. He'd often pretend that she was a paranormal investigator off discovering some great unknown, and that she would be returning home at any time. He liked to think that she knew him like no one else ever could, that she loved him unconditionally. That she supported his paranormal obsession, fully understanding that it was acceptable, that it was a legitimate science. And that someday she would return and tell his father that he wasn't insane. He simply didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps, that it was OK to be into that 'stuff'. That is what he thought she would have been like had she been there, supportive, loving, understanding. No, he never told anyone about what he thought about their mom, not Gaz, not his dad, no one. (Not like it was something that came up in the course of conversation anyway.) Yep, some things were best kept to oneself. Less chance of breaking a carefully constructed illusion.
He found himself staring at the entrance to his classroom. He didn't look forward to going inside, he know Mrs. Bitters would be waiting. He didn't like to admit it, but she scared him. He could face Vampires, Bigfoot, Chupacabras, but Mrs. Bitters was another story. He feared her more than supernatural being ever could. He often wondered if she wasn't something of the supernatural herself.
Steeling himself, he put his hand on the door. He could already feel his headache starting to worsen. With great trepidation he opened the door and went into the classroom.
"Dib! Your late!" Mrs. Bitters barked at him.
Her harsh tone caused his headache to flair. He flinched under the sudden sharp pain. Out of the corner of his eye, Dib could see Zim standing by his desk at the classroom entrance. It looked as if Dib had interrupted something. If he didn't feel so bad, he would have been happy about that. Zim rarely spoke up in class and when he did, it was usually to threaten people, ask stupid questions that any human would know, or gloat about his superiority.
"Sorry Mrs. Bitters." He said, glancing up at her intimidating figure. "I wasn't feeling very well this morning."
"What? Not vampire moles or zombie squirrels? That's a poor excuse, Dib." She hissed, "Now, Take your seat."
As she turned back towards Zim, Dib headed to his street.
Over the reawakened pain in his head, Dib barely heard Mrs. Bitters say "Now Zim, What did you want."
"Nothing Mrs. Bitters, Sir. My mighty need has passed." Came Zim's response.
He heard Mrs. Bitters let out a cross between a humph and a growl.
"Now, poor doomed children, we can see first hand why our society is doomed to be nothing more than a void of mindless minion serving an ungrateful society with their useless doomed lives."
Dib let out as sign and rubbed his eyes. It was going to be a long day.