Ch 1: reality TV from Hell!
Disclaimer: same as last time.
(A/N: I came up with the title for this story while babysitting. Taking care of little kids for 11 hours a daydoes this to you...)
When Dib came to, he realized he was in strange surroundings with strange people. He was tied to a chair, which was in a circle of eight more chairs, one empty. Only one person he recognized.
" Zim!" Zim, knowing that voice, shouted to Dib "Filthy demon-pigs! Interrupting our fight! If I wasn't tied down I'd destroy you!" A girl in a red bandanna and black dress stirred. "What is the meaning of this? Someone had better explain to me what I'm doing here or there will be a would of pain in store for anyone who crosses me-" Anna's words woke a blond kid in a red coat. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO PUNY YOU WANT TO CRUNCH LIKE AN ANT!" Ed's shouts(the words being originated from a bad dream) woke everyone else up. "What's going on? Where am I? Why does the kid I'm sitting next to have a big head?" Danny's remark was retaliated by Dib shouting "MY HEAD'S NOT BIG!"
"Pipe down, you children. The Monarch will not tolerate your racket-" The girl with pink hair ( her name's Haruko, okay?) Starred. "Do you always speak to yourself in third person?"
"QUIET! THE MONARCH WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU-"
"HA HA! I AM THE BOX GHOST! I HAVE POWER OVER EVERYTHING CARDBOARD AND SQUARE!"(note: everyone except the Box Ghost is tied down) "Wait! Why is there an empty chair?" Dib's question silenced the others. Everyone stared at the empty chair, which was right next to Dib (on Dib's right; Danny was seated on his left) "That is a good question, Dib-worm. But an even better question is– Why is your head so big?" Everyone present murmured in agreement. "My head's not big!" Dib protested. Suddenly, the double doors no one bothered to notice swung open, and two MTV producers (the unhealthily skinny and the unhealthily large one) came into veiw. The large one, holding a beaver in his hand and petting it like the evil guy he is, began to speak. "I'm sure everyone here is confused, disoriented, and want to go home, right?" Everyone but the Box Ghost nodded in agreement. "WELL YOU CAN'T GO HOME! YOU ALL ARE UNDER CONTRACT NOW AND HAVE TO PARTICIPATE IN OUR REALITY TV SHOW! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Eerie silence fills the room. The large producer cleared his throat. "Um, okay then. Anyways, everyone here will be released back into their natural habitat in due time, until then you all have to live together. You will have full access to the liqueur cabinet, and are allowed to party, streak, and all of that wonderful stuff that makes our show so successful. Any questions?" The Monarch raised a hand. "Yes?"
"Can we kill anyone?"
"You can do anything but that, no matter how much of a good show it would make."
"Damn it. I was looking forward to testing the death darts on that large-headed boy." Dib threw his arms around his head. "My head's not big. And how did I get out of these ropes?" deciding his question is better off unanswered, he turned to The large MTV producer. "By the way, whose supposed to be sitting there?" Dib points to the empty seat. "You'll see. Even as we speak, he's being tracked down and captured-" The producer's cell phone rang. "Yes, what is it?"
' HE'S TAKEN OUT MOST OF OUR MEN- EVEN THE NINJAS! WE'VE TRIED KNOCK OUT GAS, WE'VE TRIED TRANQUILIZER DARTS, WE'VE EVEN TRIED THE ECTO-CUFFS THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO WORK ON THE FENTON KID- BUT NOTHING WILL WORK! NOTHING-" A beep came from the producer's cell phone. "Tell me about it later, I have another call."
"NO! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T HANG UP---" A dial tone can be heard. We all know what has happened. The large producer responds to his other call. "Hello?"
' You the one who hired the ninjas to hit me with a truck?' Instantly, The Monarch recognized that voice. And he also knew what would come. The large producer(sigh, I'm tired of calling him 'the large producer' so let's just call him 'Billy' k?)ignored The Monarch's panicked "WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE".
"Yes, Yes I did." an inhuman growl of anger issued from the phone. 'Then get ready for hell.' An explosion followed, and what remained of the double doors was stepped on by Brock Samson. The not-expected-so-soon guest struck fear into Billy's cold producer heart. "EEEEEK!(haha! Billy screams like a girl) Don't kill me! Please don't kill me!" Zim just laughed at this. "Filthy meat-human! You're not so smug now that- what is your name again?"
"I never mentioned my name. "
"JUST TELL ME YOUR NAME SO I CAN GO ON WITH VERBALLY HUMILIATING THIS HUMAN THAT DARED TO CAPTURE ZIM!" The blond and mulleted bodyguard gave Zim a strange look. "John...Smith." If he was going to deal with an idiot, he might as well get some amusement from it. "You're not so smug now that John Smith is here to DOOM your large self, huh? Do you feel lucky? Well? Do you punk?" It would seem someone has been watching too many Clint Eastwood movies. An awkward silence filled the room. And for a moment, Brock forgot why he was here. Billy cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, now that our last participant is here, we can finally go to the house you will be living in together for the next month. But before we can leave here are some simple rules." He gets out a five-foot long list. "Rule one: no talking to the camera people. You can only talk to the host and hostess of the house, who will inform you of upcoming events and tortures- I mean challenges- that are in store for you. Rule two: everyone is required to wear cat/dog collars with waterproof microphones, and should never be taken off for any circumstances whatsoever. Rule three- yes, large-headed boy?"
"My name is Dib and my head's not big. Anyway, are there microphones in the bedposts and cameras in our rooms?"
"Yes."
"That's very creepy."
"Yes, I know." Crickets can be heard chirping as another awkward silence fill the room. "Rule three: Brock Samson's license to kill is temporarily revoked until the end of the month. Yes Dib?"
"How is this a rule?"
"It isn't."
"Then why say it's a rule?"
"Your questions are annoying! Someone gag him!" One of the floating robotic things from 'the voting of the doomed' shoots a metal strap thing over Dib's mouth. "Failure to comply with these rules will result in a painful explosion caused by the collar you are required to wear. Thank you, now meet your hostess." The double doors had been replaced with new ones, which opened dramatically to reveal... "This is Drowningsiren. She will be your hostess during your stay at-"
"The author's the hostess?" Dib shouted. "Yes. Yes I am." I said. "But...who will be writing while your in the story? Ouch!" drowningsiren had hit Dib upside his large head with an iron wok. "Do not question the author for she has her ways!"
"Why does half the cast have to speak in third person?" Haruko met the same fate as Dib. "Because speaking in third person is fun! Right, Zim?"
"Yes! Zim loves speaking in third person!"
"The world has gone mad." Danny flinched as drowningsiren brandished her wok threateningly. "Right, now that we have established the rules, let's go to our new home! Yes Edward?"
"Why isn't the host here? Is he your husband?" drowningsiren gave Ed a death stare. "God forbid. He's the host because it's his house, and I'm the hostess because I'm doing the cooking. The host isn't here because...well...you'll find out." Everyone piled into the limo, cameramen following like flies follow a garbage truck.
After a very long car ride, they made it to their destination. Everyone save Brock Samson looked out of the window excitedly, expecting a mansion, but were sourly disappointed. The house didn't look that glamorous. In fact, It didn't look nice at all. The windows were boarded up badly, there was no lawn, and there were cracks in the walls. It looked like it haven't been lived in for years. Dib read the address number: 7...7...7. "Oh no..."
(A/N: ha ha! They are living in Johnny's house! Oh, whatDOOM is in store for them now? Wait til chapter 2 to find out!)