*walks in*

*opens windows*

*blows dust off keyboard*

*ducks rotten tomatoes*

Methinks I should have kept the windows closed. On the bright side, we're having spaghetti tonight. Now I can make sauce. Personally, I'm shocked that you guys care enough to throw rotten fruit...

Operation: Karaoke
By Megumi, The Absconding One

Act III - Mrs. Bitters

Last time...

The Tallest raised the roof with their rockin' rendition of the cult favorite, 'Pirates Who Don't Do Anything'. Unfortunately, a certain Tallest's fondness for smoke machines left the party hall filled with thick gray smoke, accentuated by the occasional laser beam connecting with some pour soul's eye.

*Though no one can see a thing, the reverb from the electric guitars of the Tallest's song has worn off somewhat. Conversations arise from the fog, the most noticeable of those being the one carried on by a trench coated paranormal investigator and a green-skinned Irken invader*

Dib: Zim, where are your stupid leaders? My glasses got all fogged up because of that smoke machine, and now I can't see anything.

Zim: It's not your glasses, you moronic wormbaby. And where do you get off calling my leaders stupid? Your world leaders have nothing better to do than drop nuclear warheads on each other.

Dib: This coming from a member of a species who's idea is fun is going out and invading planets, enslaving their people, and getting your hands on their best slurpie reci- Ow!

Voice From The Fog: Sorry, earthling.

Dib: *rubs back* That hurt! *glares at where he thinks Zim is*

Zim: What nonsense are you spouting now, Dib-human?

Dib: You hit me!

Zim: I did not. I do not hold my gloves in such disregard that I would dirty them on your filthy carcass.

Dib: Who else in this place would hit me, and then call me 'earthling'?

Zim: *has wandered off*

Dib: Arg. Stupid aliens, always hitting me and poking me and accosting me with meat...

*Zim's voice carries from a few feet away*

Zim: Get out of the way, you stinky worm beast. I desire to get to the stage!

*bang*

*crash*

*that sound that a chair makes when it cracks an alien over the skull*

Zim: Owww.

Gaz: Call me a worm beast again, Zim, and I shove your dumb robot up your-

Megumi: I'll tell you what the problem is. *sweeping gesture with hands, almost hitting Dib* It's the ventilation in this place. There isn't any.

Dib: Why don't you just use your Mystic Author Powers and create a window or six. And maybe some giant fans?

Megumi: *hugs Dib* Oh Dib! You're soooo smart!

Dib: Can't. Breathe.

*Megumi snaps her fingers*

WHOOSH

*fog rushes out of the several openings in the wall. All nonessential persons (read: everyone who won't be singing karaoke) leave. Dib tries to bolt, but is held back by Zim, who is pinching his bleeding nose.*

Zim: If I have to suffer, than so do you, Dib-human.

Dib: Why aren't you leaving?

Zim: I will be the one who is exempt from that loon's next piece of fanfiction, thank you very much. So of course I must stay here until I get a chance at the microphone. So of course, you're staying here with me.

Dib: Fine! Go sing now, so I can leave.

Zim: I can't sing now.

Dib: Why not!?

Zim: Because Mrs. Bitters has the microphone, and I'm not crazy enough to attempt to take it from her.

Dib: You are so crazy eno- Hold up. Did you just say *gulp* Mrs. Bitters?

Zim: Do your ears need checking, foul earthbaby?

*Dib glances at stage. Mrs. Bitters does indeed stand there, twirling the microphone in her wrinkly grasp, waiting for everyone left in the hall to notice her and scream in terror.*

Dib: We're doomed. *faints*

Megumi: Well, all the smoke's gone. *snaps, all the holes disappear*

Everyone Who Was Trying To Leave Because Of Mrs. Bitters Presence On Stage: *screams in terror*

Mrs. Bitters: Good morning, class.

*terrified silence*

GiR: Good mooorning, scary lady.

Mrs. Bitters: *ignores* I said good morning, class!

Everyone: Good morning, Mrs. Bitters.

Mrs. Bitters: Better. Now, doomed ones, I am going to sing you a little song, seeing as my normal methods of attempting to inform you all of your doomy fate-

GiR: Moosey.

Mrs. Bitters: What?

GiR: Moosey fate! Moosey fate!

Mrs. Bitters: *glare*

GiR: *oblivious* I like tacos.

Mrs. Bitters: *pause* Is that so? Well, start the music, DJ.

*cue intro: Gollum's song*

Red: I swear I've heard this song somewhere before.

Purple: Some movie, or another...

Red: Oh yeah! It's that Two Towers flick that Underling Green was an extra in.

Megumi: Which I don't own, by the by.

Mrs. Bitters: QUIET! Ahem... Where once was light, darkness shall fall.

Audience: *cringes, as Mrs. Bitters' singing voice sounds very much like the scratching of a hypodermic syringe on a regulation blackboard*

Mrs. Bitters: Where now there's love, it won't be no more. Now, I say goodbye.
I say, a stray asteroid shall crash into Mercury, *music stops* -sending it on a crash course into the sun, with will expel huge solar flares, engulfing Earth in a mass of fiery doom- *breath* *music begins* and you'll all fryyyyy.

So go and live your petty lives. Get jobs in burger restaurants; make shakes and fries. 'Cause you will weep and pray when the apocalypse is come. It's no good, God's a lazy bum.

Johnny: It's true, I tell you. He just sits up there in his Laz-E-God chair, drinking soda and sleeping his fat behind off-

Zim: Wrong fic, you moron. 'Immortalizing the Moment' is two studios down.

Dib: Get out while you can.

Johnny: Sorry! Nice trench coat, by the way. *walks away* You know, I had a nice trench coat like that one once. It was black. I got it in hell...

Mrs. Bitters: So in the end, you'll scream, but I will laugh.
'Cause none of you dumb bums paid attention during math!
Now I say, goodbye. I say, *music skids to a halt in preparation of the rant sure to come* World War III will start because American television networks will began broadcasting nothing but reruns of I Love Lucy, all nations of the world (as well as some of it's wildlife) will began combating this foul practice, eventually coming to fight each other because there's nothing better to do. The war will end with the detonation of ten thousand nuclear warheads, causing the Earth to become a desolate wasteland of nuclear doom-

*music starts. Fillmore's starting to look annoyed*

Mrs. Bitters: And you'll all diiiieee.

And when the end does come you'll wish you'd listened more.
I'll bet you thought that I lectured just to bore.
This is your last warning, you pathetic doomed children.
You're doomed. Doomed. Doomed. Doom... Doom...

As the last note rang out over the crowd, Mrs. Bitters vanished in a puff of green smoke.

The scene within the confines of the party hall was one not entirely unlike the aftermath of a Guitar Slammers concert with an audience of seniors. Bodies littered the floor like so many bowling pins, some clearly unconscious, a lucky few comatose, but the majority twitching and gasping for breath. The only two still standing were the authoress and GiR.

The former pulled out her ear plugs, remarking, "You know, that song sounded much better in my head than it did just now."

GiR, who was sitting on the stage staring in adoration at the microphone, rotated his metal cranium a full 180ยบ so as to properly fix her with a look of confusion. "Huh?"

"Nothing," she said, surveying the carnage. A detached part of her mind wondered about the whereabouts of Mrs. Bitters, who had dissapeared a moment after her performance. "GiR, does it strike you as odd that sometime during Bitters' song this fic changed from script format to an honest-to-god attempt at a third person?"

"Nope."

"Good. That means the readers won't care either."

And with that, she promptly poured herself a glass of punch, took a cookie, and settled in to wait until her captives came to.

A/N: I just thought I'd try it. By the by, the disclaimer is hidden somewhere in the chapter. If you're smart enough to find it, I'll give you a cookie.