I am sorry that I do not have time to answer reviews o.O; Myeh. So much to do ... presents to make ... project to finish ... head ... exploding ... more dots...

Anywho. I thought you crazy IZ fans would appreciate this. I meant to post it three chapters ago. But I'm stupid, and I post it now. It's a video by a little band called Mindless Self Indulgence that I'm a bit addicted to. But the best part of it is ... drumrollllll It's directed by Jhonen! Resulting in many explosions, madness, and his awesome seal puppet. Just go to myspace (dot com) (SHTOOPID LINKS) and look up the band name in the bands. The video will be ... in their pictures, I believe. This is just being stupid and won't let me post the linky. Damn.

Sorry.

Nyer, I'll just go to the chapter now. Enjoy, my little pig smelly muffincakes.

"NYOOOO. HUNNZLES, YOU'RE NOT DIRT!"

"GIR!"

"AHHHAAH!"

GIR leapt back from the television at the impending doom-esque sound of Zim's voice, clutching his head in horror. "Master's in trouble!"

"No! I'm not! There is no SSSSSSKYOOL, GIR! It's a Saturday!"

"Well, yuhduh."

"Be quiet!" Zim waved his arms around in the air. "I need to run some tests in the lab, GIR! Don't disturb me! And DON'T – I repeat – DO NOT let anyone in, GIR! Anyone! Not! A! Soul! Please!" He grabbed GIR's face and dug his fingers hard into it. GIR made odd grunt-y noises as Zim's nails began to dent his metallic cheeks.

"Hokay! Sheesh," he spluttered, swatting Zim away and going into a karate pose. He leapt into the air and swung from a random vine he found in the rafters, giggling maniacally. Zim slapped his forehead and ran towards the kitchen, practically falling into the toilet as he started down into the lower levels.

"COMPUTER!"

Zim impatiently folded his arms as an odd, tinny bleeping noise tinkled through the air. He looked around, confusedly, until it stopped. "Com. Pyoo. Tor." The sound flashed again, but nothing. "Dammit, computer!" Zim cried, beating on the console. "Wake up!"

"Whhhhatttttt!"

"Don't give me that!" Zim snapped, shaking a finger at the blank screen. "You are supposed to be up and running when I NEED you!"

"Fine, fine."

Zim scowled at the air in general above his head and started tapping on keys. "I need you to run a standard PAK malfunctioning check, just to see if anything is wrong. I think it might be acting kind of funny."

"Master, you just ran a check a few-"

"Do as I say!"

"Yes, sir."

Zim gave a wince of pain as hundreds of tiny, twisting robotic arms snaked through openings in a grate at the front of the console, darting hungrily into the back of Zim's PAK and tearing it forcibly from his body with a sickening squelch. He gently massaged the spot where it had once been as, in a shower of sparks, the arms dragged the PAK to a steel table and started diving into it in random spots and intervals, sending up tiny bursts of electric discharge every once in a while. An excruciating minute and a half later, the PAK hovered back over to Zim and automatically re-welded itself to his back.

"No malfunctions present."

"What? No! That has to be wrong! Are you sure?"

"No, I purposefully skipped over random important parts in the check just to anger you."

"You DID!"

"It is called SARCASM, sir."

Zim snarled and glared around at the air again. "Well, DON'T use it any MORE." He leaned against the front of the computer console and stared off into the buttons. "You're POSITIVE there were no errors?"

"Master, short of running another check on your PAK, there's not much else I can do."

Zim nodded. "Run a full health scan. See if there are any sort of viruses present in my system."

The computer actually sighed this time. "Yesss, sssiirrrrrrr."

More tubes flitted out, this time seizing all of Zim's limbs and pulling them taut so that he was in a spread-eagled position as even more grasped his head and held it straight. Another wince forcibly made its way into Zim's facial features as the tubes tugged hard on his limbs, coiling around each individual one with the force of a boa constrictor. He gasped audibly as they snaked around his chest and squeezed hard, but all at once, they recoiled, dropping Zim all at once and sending him down to an uncharacteristically graceful drop.

"Well?"

"Well… nothing. You're perfectly healthy, master."

"What! That can't be right! Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"No sickness, fever, anything?"

"Yesss."

"No viruses?"

"YES."

"No parasites or-"

"Yes, parasites. Unidentified parasite located in lower abdomen."

"Well … why didn't you mention that before!"

"You never asked for parasites."

Zim just slapped his forehead and grunted. "What kind of parasite."

"…Unidentified…"

"Continue."

"Insufficient data. Parasite, however, appears to be feeding off of natural bodily resources. Most common match found: tapeworm."

"YARGH, I KNEW IT!" Zim shrieked at the top of his lungs, forcing his fists hard into his temples and groaning in frustration. "The horrible Dib-weasel Dib-demon-pig-Dib planted some sort of horrible disease in my body to weaken me! He took complete ADVANTAGE of ZEEEEM. That WRETCHED…" He punched himself a few times and sighed. "Computer, remove the parasite."

"Parasite unable to be removed, sir."

"WHAT! Why!"

"Parasite is determined to be illegal to remove on the planet unless process is completed by a trained professional."

"…So?"

"Therefore, I cannot go through with it."

Zim snarled and clambered onto the operating table, cringing at the sharp cold of the steel. "Computer, run test #547. The one with the jelly or whatever. I dunno the name."

The computer simply blipped in response as the same robotic tentacles snaked out from under the table, strapping Zim's arms down to minimize struggle as another spurted out some clear jelly onto Zim's bare abdomen. Zim hissed at the uncomfortably low temperature of it, but just gritted his teeth to bear with it as another arm darted out, planting a flat end on Zim's stomach and slowly gliding across the surface, freezing at his left side.

"Approximate coordinates of parasite located."

Zim squinted at the slightly grainy image displaced on the wall-sized screen in front of him. "I see no parasite… Enhance image." Zim felt the table protrude up from the ground on a similar, thicker arm like the ones currently strapping him down and glide closer to the screen. Nothing. "Enhance," Zim demanded again, but the image only worsened.

"Master, the parasite is currently too small to recognize through such a test."

"Of course," Zim mumbled as most of the tubes hastily snapped out of view, the only one remaining being used to clean off the jelly-like substance as the table slowly descended to its original position. Zim slid off the table with a sigh, slowly rolling his invader uniform back down as he strode across the room. "I shall have to confront the horrible pig tomorrow. No, Monday. But for now, I'll just have to research such a parasite. That is all for now, computer." He gave a vague wave of his hand as he exited the room and all of the lights inside shut down.

"I am assUMing that you all have actually completed your projects accordingly, and will now proceed to subject us to many HORRIBLE hours of reading them," Ms. Bitters was snarling to the class, first thing Monday morning. She had a pile of reports clutched in her bony fingers, almost hard enough to dig holes through the pages. "I will pick reports at random, and whichever one is picked will recite it to the class, regardless of completion or any sort of spontaneous illness that might stricken any of you. You will not go to the nurse." Ms. Bitters cleared her throat and shuffled through the pages, putting them in a new order and picking one at random.

"SPOON AND OLD KID. Go."

And so they went on, each pair of partners coming up to the front of the room and droning about organs or cells for five minutes and slinking back to their seats, looking embarrassed. As the pile lessened more and more as the day went on, Zim could feel an odd feeling flitting around in his stomach. He was strangely nervous, and he didn't really have an idea why. It worried him. "Irkens aren't supposed to be nervous," he inwardly scolded himself as Ms. Bitters called out another paper. Zim just ran his fingers through his false hair and looked down at his desk. "Hold yourself together, Zim. Zim. Zim. Zim! ZIM!"

"ZIM!"

Zim's head snapped up from its slightly lulled descent to his desktop, and he looked around blindly, trying to figure out who'd called his name.

"Eh?"

For the first time, Zim noticed that Dib was already standing at the front of the room, poster and paper clutched in hand. "Er, we're up."

"Huh? Oh! Oh. I knew that." Zim snatched up his own poster and slunk towards the front of the room with Dib, ignoring the mocking giggles and jeers. Ms. Bitter simply growled for silence as Zim and Dib set up their posters. They did make the other posters look drab in comparison, but then the other kids had probably just started theirs last night.

By the time Zim comprehended Dib's voice speaking, he was already halfway through his first paragraph, and Zim swallowed, slowly peeling off his gloves and shoving them into his PAK as he searched for where he started reading. Where … was he?

"Uh, Zim?" Dib nudged Zim with his elbow, and he looked up again, slightly shocked. Dib's gaze flickered around slightly nervously. "Your turn."

"It is? Oh, yes. So it is," Zim mumbled, rubbing his sweating hands hard against the fabric of his pants. "Er, the respiratory system is made up of two – I mean, three major, um, parts." Zim coughed slightly and rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth. Whispers were magnified to a million times their normal volume. "Um," Zim attempted to continue, suddenly losing his spot as that horrible buzzing noise of all the classmates' voices filed his skull. Dib nudged his side again.

"Are you okay?"

"Whuh? Yes. I'm – I'm fine," Zim spluttered, balling his hand into a fist and pressing it to pursed lips for several long seconds before returning to his paper. "Um, the parts consist of…" He shut his eyes and swallowed. "O-o-of…"

"He's gonna do it again."

"Haha, yeah, he is."

"Of," Zim gurgled in a tiny voice, and all at once, he dropped all of his papers, covering his mouth as they scattered into a flurry of white sheets and fluttered all across the floor. "I'm gonna be sick," he blurted, and bolted from the room to loud cheers and cackling laughter. Dib was out after him before his papers even hit the ground.

The male burst into the bathroom seconds after the alien did, wincing as he heard the unmistakable sound of retching slice through the air like a machete. Dib pushed open the handicapped stall door and swooped down next to Zim, tentatively feeling his forehead as he was violently ill into the porcelain bowl again. "You … don't have a fever," Dib said slowly, trying his best to block out the shuddering moan that quickly followed his speculations.

"Oh, don't PATRONIZE me," Zim spat furiously, pressing a fist to his mouth again. "I-" He gave a small burp and grimaced. "I didn't have ANY of these symptoms until your filthy brain head smell thingy came into the picture."

"I didn't 'come into' the picture! I was brutally SHOVED into the picture against my will!"

"Be that as it may, you STILL took advantage of me and planted me with your filthy tapeworm-esque thing!"

"Tapeworm thing?" Dib asked, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

"…You… You don't know?" Zim said hesitantly, and paled when Dib shook his head. "So what IS this?" he wondered aloud, sounding increasingly more panicked. "Oh, God. Oh, no. This is bad. This is so not right."

"What? What is it?"

"I don't know!" Zim cried, feeling the sides of his head in hysteria as if to feel if it was still there. "And then my P-P-PAK is still malfunctioning or someth-"

"Still?"

"How else would I go through the stupid Chill! Invaders don't get it!"

Dib's intensifying worry was beginning to match Zim's as he crawled a little closer, trying to take the alien in his arms as if to offer some form of comfort. "Look, we'll figure it out, okay? W-"

"Get your FILTHY hands off of me!" Zim shouted, slapping Dib's hands away and springing to his feet. "Don't TOUCH me! I did NOT give you permission to do any of such! I ought-"

His threats were cut off short as he lurched and collapsed in front of the toilet again, dry-heaving absolutely nothing into the toilet and just simply coughing up bile as Dib came up behind him, reassuringly rubbing his shoulders. An obviously unwilling sob snaked its way through Zim's lips, and he just hugged his own head, allowing to let Dib touch him all he pleased. It didn't matter any more.