In Short Supply

by ckret2

When Purple discovers that the gap between the tall and short Irkens is widening, he fears the worst, the division of the Irken race. But as Red denies that anything's wrong, he resorts to filling that gap himself. With Zim's help. ZAPR, mpreg.

11. Hallowed Acid

A/N: Happy seventh birthday to Invader Zim! (The show, not Zim himself, obviously.) As promised, here be a bonus update, to commemorate the day.

I've actually been meaning to ask this a while, but just remembered to. Does anyone know what happened to The Scary Monkey Show website? I used to use it all the time for reference, but back in November when I went looking for it, it was gone. I've been accessing it through the Wayback Machine, but it'd be really nice to actually know why it went down. Anyway, I've just been curious about it. (And by the time everyone gets to the end of the chapter, you'll probably have forgotten I asked. Oh, well.)

Extra note: I know Jhonen's said that Dib and Gaz were created as an experiment by Professor Membrane. But, that doesn't necessarily mean there couldn't have been a "mother" of some sorts involved, at the very least someone who allowed Membrane to artificially inseminate her with the super-babies he was making, or perhaps even a woman (or wife) who honestly didn't know the children she was having were the products of freaky experiments. And that woman might have had a brother. Which is why Dib and Gaz have an uncle in this fic. So, you don't need to call me down for not knowing my canon: I know it, I just occasionally play with its loopholes.

Enjoy the chapter, and please remember to review!

xxxxx

In Short Supply

Hallowed Acid

xxx

An email from toadstool(a)swolleneye(.)net to mothman(a)swolleneye(.)net, Sun. Dec. 14, 11:05 PM: Dib—

It's been a while since I've had a chance to talk to my favorite nephew. Between work and Swollen Eyeball patrols... you know how it is. I pulled vampire duty for December. At least it isn't Santa preparation duty.

How are you doing? Is your father still practicing parental neglect? I figure he is, I don't see why he would change now. Let me tell you, if my sister were still around, you'd never have to go though that. She might not have made the most nurturing mother (assuming she WAS genetically your mother, since you never know what Membrane might have done to make you), but she wasn't neglectful. Probably.

Actually, truth be told, no one on either side of your family is very good at parenting. Maybe it's genetic. Dib, never have children.

Anyway, something came up today that might interest you. Agent Gourdy and I just finished our report to Darkbooty about our experiences with the vampires. Apparently, they're currently hunting aliens. Darkbooty suggested that their target might be connected to "the spider" you've been tracking. (Its name was Zip, right?) I thought you'd like to know.

I'm sorry I haven't had time to visit you lately. At least winter break is coming up soon, so perhaps we can get together then. I've already got my house fortified for the Santa attack if you'd like to visit; I doubt your father would notice.

E-mail me back when you have time.

Love,

Your uncle

P.S. Ask Gaz for me if she's met fairies yet. They tend to be attracted to young girls without loving parents, you know. I'm sure they'll target her someday soon.

xxx

Dib was half-asleep on his homework when the email alert on his computer woke him up. He jerked his head up, a piece of notebook paper stuck to his face, mumbling, "Isolate the variable."

What had woken him? He peeled the paper from his cheek, blinking blearily around the room. Oh, computer. Email. Right. Yawning, he straightened up, rolled his chair in front of the computer, and accessed his email.

For the first time all year, Dib was almost caught up on his homework. Even his math. Mr. Mudd would be so surprised. Of course, the only reason Dib had made so much progress was because he hadn't seen Zim in over a week. It was amazing all the free time he had when he wasn't stalking an alien. Now all he had to do was finish his math homework for tomorrow...

Dib read the email. His tired eyes shot open. Finally, a lead on what Zim was up to! He couldn't let this pass by. Zim, connected to the vampires? This was too good to be true. Dib had to check this out immediately.

He jumped out of his chair, ran to the door, and yelled into the hall, "Hey, Gaz! Uncle Denny wants to know if you've met any fairies yet!"

Muffled by her bedroom door, Gaz shouted back, "It's almost midnight, Dib. This is stupid."

"So? You're still up."

Gaz growled. "No, I haven't met a fairy, and if I did I'd never tell Uncle Denny."

"Thanks!" Dib ran back into his room and typed a quick reply—thanks for the info, I can't wait to come over for Christmas, and Gaz still hasn't seen any fairies. He sent it, snatched up his bag of Zim-hunting supplies, and headed out the door.

xxx

In retrospect, Dib wondered whether charging out into cold at midnight in the middle of winter had been a good idea. He hadn't even put on his trench coat. Real smart.

And he had no idea where to look for Zim, other than his base, and Dib had already swung by and not been able to see anything unusual. So here he was in the middle of the city, at night, with a giant bag full of camera supplies, water guns, and water bottles, shivering and wondering what to do now.

This was dumb. Uncle Denny hadn't even said for sure that the vampires really were after Zim. He was probably still hiding in his base, trying to stop the freaky molt thing. Or coming up with a new evil scheme. Then again, hadn't Zim promised he wasn't trying to take over Earth anymore?

Yeah. Fat chance.

For all Dib knew, Zim might be agitating the vampires on purpose. A distraction so Dib wouldn't suspect he hadn't really given up on conquering Earth. Dib figured he should just go home, finish his stupid math homework, get some sleep...

A flash of green about a block away caught Dib's attention. He looked towards it just in time to see a door swing shut. Had that been Gir?

Dib sprinted towards the door, almost getting run over as he crossed the street, and barely glanced up at the sign as he jogged inside: Boock Stor. That was just pitiful. Must be locally owned, since the only person who could make a sign like that would have to be someone who had gone through the Sity Publik Skool Distrekt.

There was no sign of Gir inside the store, nor of the chaos that typically accompanied him. The store was crammed with dozens of low, unsteady old bookcases, with thick tomes piled several feet high on top. The only other living being Dib could see (assuming he was living) was an ancient man asleep at the cash register, drooling on the countertop. Dib eyed the still old man nervously, decided he'd rather not check his pulse to find out if he'd died in his sleep, and moved slowly into the rest of the store. Gir or not, Dib knew something had just come in here...

He heard a sound around one bookcase, someone turning a page, and stopped walking. Who else could be here? Was that Gir? Or, no—most likely it was Zim. Had to be. Leaning next to the bookcase to keep from being seen, Dib carefully tried to glance around the edge.

His weight caused the bookcase to creak and shift. Dib gulped and looked up—the precarious towers of books tottered, and fell. With a yelp, Dib dived out of the way as the books came tumbling down.

He curled up on the ground with his arms over his head until the books stopped crashing, then slowly opened his eyes. Hey, he was alive. For the past week he was 15 out of 15 for surviving near-death experiences, and that was without Zim around. Not bad...

Dib pushed himself to his feet and discovered someone staring at him. Someone decidedly not-Zim. Dib gulped. "Er..." He could take the apologetic awkward teen approach or the ever-suspicious paranormal investigator approach. Seeing as this guy had a red cowboy hat, an ankle-length tan trench coat, and a big hump under his coat, Dib felt justified in taking the second approach. "Hey, who are you? What are you doing here?"

The man stared at Dib a moment, looking baffled and more than a bit wary. "I'm... reading. Yeah. That's what this place is for, right? Reading?"

Dib looked at the table the man was sitting at; it was covered in stacks of books. From what Dib could see of the covers, they all seemed to have something to do with vampires. Everything from 1930's paranormal field guides to bad romance paperbacks. "Yeah, but you're usually supposed to buy them before you read them."

The man looked fearfully at his book pile, as if wondering if Dib had caught sight of it yet. "Y-yeah, I knew that! I was just... you know, looking at them before..."

"It's fine, I'm not gonna tell anyone," Dib said. Just based on this guy's weird clothes, Dib figured he guy was probably a hobo who'd wandered inside and didn't have any money for books. Most likely one of the schizophrenic ones whose paranoia had turned paranormal. "Why are you looking at all this, anyway?"

Dib received another distrustful look before the hobo finally said, "The vampires are out to get me."

"Is that so." Definitely a paranoid schizophrenic.

"Yeah, it is," the hobo shot back, clearly recognizing the patronizing tone in Dib's voice. "And I suppose you don't know anything about Gwaednerth's swarm, do you?"

"Well, I met him once," Dib said. "Wait. You've heard of Count Gwaednerth's clan?"

The hobo sneered. "He only gives his name every time I run into him. Gwaednerth and all the Tryst-things and Bedivere and Urian and Alouarn and Glyndwr and Rheinallt and Fflamddwyn and Tangwyst and Creirdyddlydd..."

"How do you remember all those?!" And Dib had thought he was good just for learning how to pronounce Gwaednerth correctly. What kind of name was Creridyddlydd?

"Repetition." The hobo apparently decided he didn't need to listen to Dib anymore, because he picked up one of its books and started reading with a bored, glazed look. Dib glanced at the cover and grimaced in disgust at the title: The Year's Best Vampire Lesbian Erotica. How did this stuff get published? He quickly backed away from the hobo, hoping that he really was a crazy that had no idea what he was reading.

But, he'd known the names of all those vampires. Dib recognized several of them as well; he'd either run into them or learned about them through the Swollen Eyeball Network. This wasn't a typical street schizo. Which meant maybe it'd be worth Dib's time to try to pump him for information on the connection between the vampires and Zim.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Dib asked, taking a few of cautious steps closer to the hobo. "Have you ever heard of a guy called Zim? Green skin, no nose or ears..."

"Huh?" The hobo appeared to be distracted by the book. He was turning it sideways, frowning in puzzlement, as if trying to figure out what was going on. "Oh. Yeah, Zim. Annoying little bug."

Bug? Bug, as in, the Spider? This was no ordinary homeless crazy. He was obviously implying knowledge of the Swollen Eyeball. He had to be another member, then. A member that had no idea how to do research on vampires, but a member nonetheless. His expertise was probably in a different field of the paranormal.

"Yeah! He really is a bug, isn't he?" Dib said eagerly. "Kinda like a... oh, I don't know... an arachnid, of some sort?"

The hobo shot Dib an uncomfortable look. "Sure... one of those. I guess." Clearly, he was uneasy because he didn't know who else could be listening in.

"Don't worry," Dib said quietly, claiming a chair next to the supposed hobo. "I haven't seen anyone else in here and the store owner's either asleep or dead. Listen—I know Zim's an alien, too. I know what you are."

The undercover agent gave Dib a wide-eyed, alarmed look. Dib quickly said, "No, no, it's okay! We're on the same side." After all, this guy had to be another agent in the Network; how else would he know about Zim, and why else would he be researching vampires in the middle of the night? "I'm Mothman. You might have heard of me; I've been studying the spider for a bit over two years now." He offered his hand.

The other agent eyed his hand suspiciously, but didn't move to shake it. "Oh, right, the spider. Yeah. Of... course I've heard of you." He skimmed the store, a paranoid glimmer in his eyes, before he said, "I'm Purple."

Agent Purple... Dib hadn't heard of him before. He wondered what paranormal phenomenon his name alluded to. The flying purple people eaters, maybe? "I take it your expertise isn't with vampires, Agent Purple," he said, glancing at all the books. "Just a guess, but you probably deal with aliens, right?"

Purple snorted. "Well, duh. I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Dib had no idea what that meant. He figured Purple was one of those agents who'd had a few too many brain cells fried while in the line of duty; that would explain why he was dressed like a hobo. "Well, if you're looking for real information on vampires, you won't find it in that..." Dib gestured weakly at the lesbian vampire erotica, "that... gay book... porn thing."

"This is porno?" With a look of extreme disdain, Purple shut the book and tossed it over his shoulder. It bounced off a bookcase behind him and made the stacks of books on top sway a bit. "Well, great! Where else am I supposed to find out about them?"

"Maybe I could help," Dib offered. "What do you need to know about vampires?"

"How to kill them."

Of course. Didn't everyone? "There aren't many ways. Have you tried garlic?"

"Yeah."

"What about crosses?"

"You mean the Jew things?"

"What?"

It took a while, but Dib finally managed to figure out that Purple had been using garlic and crosses to ward off vampires so far, and had attempted to kill a few by stabbing them through the heart, to little effect. For some reason, he thought that vampire hearts were located near their stomachs. Which was a logical theory, Dib had to admit; if the heart pumped blood and vampires got blood by drinking it, a link between the stomach and heart was possible. Except for the fact that the heart wasn't near the stomach. "What about holy water? Have you tried that?"

Purple looked skeptical. "I thought water didn't hurt Earth creatures."

That was a weird way to phrase it... Purple had definitely been on the receiving end of several alien mind probes, Dib concluded. "Well, normal water, yeah. But holy water's completely different."

"What's the chemical formula for holy water?"

"Er... I don't think it's any different from—" Dib gasped. Formulas had reminded him of equations, equations had reminded him of pre-algebra, and he still wasn't done with his homework for tomorrow.

He jumped out of his seat and snatched up his bag. "I've got to go! Sorry, but I've got... uh, other stuff to do." He started jogging towards the exit, shouting over his shoulder, "Listen, you can probably get holy water at any church. Just try not to tell them what you want it for. If you need any more help, I think Uncle Den... I mean, Agent Toadstool's got vampire duty this month. You can contact him through the Network!" He swerved around another stack of books, rushed past the sleeping/dead man, and headed home.

When he got home, he discovered that Gaz had turned on the automatic perimeter security and wasn't letting him in. By the time Dib managed to break into his own house it was 6:50 AM. He hadn't finished his homework, hadn't gotten any sleep, and hadn't even found out anything about Zim. Dib wondered whether or not he needed to sort out his priorities.

xxx

As soon as Mothman left, Purple did a search with his Pak on the human "World Wide Web" (which was a boring name, Purple thought) for locations of this "church" the strange human had referenced. Mothman had said he was on Purple's side, which apparently meant Zim had somehow garnered his support for the Irken Empire. He wondered why Zim hadn't mentioned him before. "Gir?"

The pile of books beside Purple trembled for a moment, and then was decimated as Gir burst out from beneath them, dressed in his green disguise and clutching a picture book. "Yes!"

"Contact Zim and inform him that we may have an idea for dealing with the vampires. I'll meet him back at his base and he can come up with the plan."

Purple was quite happy to let Zim come up with an actual plan, as he himself was utterly pitiful at comprehending anything even vaguely mechanical—and he suspected figuring out how to attack an entire clan of vampires at once would involve more than soaking a sponge in holy water and lobbing it at them.

There was a reason why, when the Control Brains had encoded Purple's Pak for Diplomacy training, they had also warned him that if he should want to switch to a different duty, to never ever try to be a Technician or an Inventor. True, it was more likely than not that whatever idea Zim came up would backfire, but unlike Purple he knew how to use a screwdriver.

However, when Zim did get something right... that was a sight to behold.

"Yay! We're gonna do stuff!" Gir said, twirling around atop a pile of books.

"Oh yes we are," Purple said, grinning. "And what stuff we'll do." He started laughing evilly, before he caught himself and cleared his throat. He'd been spending far too much time around Zim.

xxx

Monday night did not prove to be a night when Zim got something right.

The holy water was indeed very effective against the vampires. After replacing all the water tanks in a building with holy water, Zim and Purple had lured the "clan" into the building, sealed the doors, and set off the emergency sprinkler system.

Unfortunately, they quite quickly discovered that holy water has the exact same chemical composition of regular water. The "holy" part didn't actually change anything except the fact that some Earthen religion said the water was more special. The vampires were being burned by nothing more than spirituality. That was just stupid.

Although, as Purple informed him several times, Zim beat them all out for stupidity for not figuring out the holy water would burn Irkens, too, before locking himself and Purple inside with the vampires. Zim made a mental note to do a test run first before informing his Tallest that another plan was completely danger-free.

On the plus side, standing on a table with four umbrellas to share among a crowd of twenty is a great situation for striking up quick truces, unless you want to be shoved off the table and into ankle-high hallowed acid. During the forty-five degrees it took for the water tanks to empty themselves (the humans who came to work in the morning would have quite a mess to clean up—who knew that five hours of water could cause so much property damage?), Purple and Gwaednerth had struck up a peace treaty: no vampires would try to eat Irkens, and in return the Irkens wouldn't blow up the vampires.

On their way out of the building, sloshing through the water on Pak-legs, Zim said quietly, "We'll break the treaty, right?"

"Of course we will," Purple said. "We're Irken."

And to be Irken is to be evil. Zim grinned. "And once we've conquered the vampires, I'll be free to hail the Armada to come and destroy the rest of the Earthen population. Right?"

"Right," Purple said. "Er—I mean wrong. No. Bad Zim."

"What?" Zim looked up at Purple. "Why not?" Sure, he had expected that answer, but for a moment he thought Purple hadn't noticed...

"Because Earth isn't going to be destroyed, Zim. In fact, we're not even going to bother with the vampires. So forget about it," Purple said. "Earth is too far away from the current boundaries of the Empire for us to send the Armada out here, especially when Operation Impending Doom II is still going on in the rest of the universe."

"But we will need to conquer Earth eventually, right?" Zim said hopefully. If the Irken Empire were to include the entire universe, Earth would have to be part of it.

"Eventually. Even if Operation Impending Doom II is successful, it might be two or three eras before—"

"But I'll be ANCIENT in three eras! How do you expect me to conquer Earth if I'm four and a half eras old?"

"Are you stupid? We don't expect you to conquer Earth! Did you forget that?" Purple suddenly turned around. Zim followed his gaze, and realized that they had a grotesquely pale audience listening in from the stairs above them. "Shoo!" Purple shouted. "I've got a Jew thingy!" He took the metal X out of his Pak and waved it at the vampires, who silently slid away.

He turned back to Zim. "Why are we standing here? Unlock the door!"

Sullenly, Zim took the duplicate keys he'd made that morning out of his Pak, unlocked the door, and held it open for his Tallest to pass through before exiting the building himself. A wave of water followed them out into the street.

He had been so close! Zim had been sure that his expert handling of the vampire threat would have been enough to convince his Tallest that he deserved to be an Invader. What else would it take?!

"My Tallest," Zim began, hurrying to catch up with Purple, "I realize that at times, in my enthusiasm to help my empire in any way possible, I may have overlooked a few tiny details in pursuit of my past missions—"

"Tiny?! Do you think overlooking which PLANET you're on is a tiny detail?" Purple said, glaring down at Zim. They were far enough down the sidewalk from the building that they weren't in danger of stepping in water anymore, so Purple retracted his Pak-legs. Zim didn't. "You attacked Irk!"

"But, my Tallest!" Zim said, desperately. "Doesn't that just show how good I am at destroying things?"

"That's not the point. You're not on Earth because you're good at destroying things, you're here because you tried to destroy Irk. You hurt US, so we punish YOU. That's how exile works, Zim!"

But... that was such a waste. The Irken Empire needed Zim's talents. How couldn't Purple see that? Zim scowled. "That's stupid! Why bother exiling me if I could be busy bringing glory to my empire through another conquest?"

"Because even if you weren't exiled, we wouldn't let you be an Invader," Purple said. "And stop calling it your empire. You're not even legally part of it anymore."

Zim flinched; he hadn't realized that being exiled from the Irken Empire meant that he was no longer an Irken citizen. Purple turned away, obviously satisfied that he'd shut Zim up.

It didn't matter. He'd become an Irken citizen again, and he'd become an Invader again, and he'd conquer Earth just like he'd promised he would. He just needed to find out how.

"Why not?"

Purple gave Zim a sideways glance. "Why not what?"

"Why wouldn't you let me be an Invader?" Zim demanded. "I understand why I've been exiled. You haven't told me why I'm not qualified to be an Invader, even after I passed my training with top scores."

"Yeah, you probably 'passed' the same way you got through Hobo 13," Purple muttered.

Zim didn't think his perfect score in Invader training was any less valid just because half the trainees taking the test with him had died. Under mysterious circumstances. "That's not the point! Zim demands reasons!"

"Because you're defective! And you're insane!"

"Nonsense!" Zim tipped his head back slightly, rising up on his Pak-legs, so that he gave off the illusion of glaring down at Purple from a great height. Zim hadn't dared to do this intentionally in years; it was the height of impudence. Sure, he sometimes used his Pak-legs to make himself taller, which was rude enough on its own. What he was doing now was different.

When Zim was a smeet, back when he was still able to see over a swarm of his peers if he stood on his toes, he'd perfected a way of looking down at someone and making them literally shrink back from his gaze, making them feel inferior. It was a great psychological trick, one that had won him many arguments, but one that was dangerously audacious the way he was attempting to use it now: to make the Almighty Tallest feel shorter than Zim, the shortest Irken in existence.

Reckless stupidity was admired among Irkens.

"The Control Brains ruled that I'm sane and not-defective, didn't they?" Zim said. "And even if they hadn't, none of that has EVER interfered with my duties as an Invader, has it? I was making amazing progress on Earth, even without being an official Invader!"

"Well, that's not the only reason," Purple said, but he didn't sound certain anymore. "You're also... er... well, you're..."

"Short?"

Purple looked away from Zim—looked down to avoid meeting his gaze. For a moment, Zim felt a rush of pure power, the same rush he got at the controls of laser-packed mech, knowing that he could destroy a thousand lives with the mere flip of a finger. For a moment, Zim had made the Tallest defer to him. "Well, yeah, you are short, but I wasn't going to say that."

"Yes, you were. Of course you were." Zim growled to himself, looking away from Purple, at the ground. It was almost impossibly far away—why couldn't it always be that far? Why couldn't Zim always wield this power? "That's always what you're going to say. After all, Zim is flawless in every other aspect! The only thing anyone could possibly say against me is that I am SHORT! Is that it? The one flaw anyone could call me down on, and it HAS to be my height. As if my height would even make me less of an Invader, but does anyone care? NO! All that matters—"

"Zim."

"Matters is that—"

"ZIM!"

He turned to look at Purple, blinking. "Eh?" He'd actually forgotten he was there.

Purple held out a chocolate bar. "You need this."

"Oh." Zim accepted the chocolate. "Yeah." He hadn't realized how dark he'd let his mood become.

"And get off your Pak-legs," Purple muttered, still refusing to look at Zim. He wondered if that still meant he could intimidate Purple a bit.

Just to see what would happen, Zim said, "No. I like it up here."

Wordlessly, Purple reached over and pushed Zim's head down until he gave in and retracted his Pak-legs. He scowled, straightening out his wig with his chocolate-free hand. So, he wasn't intimidating enough to get away with defying a direct order from a Tallest.

Zim didn't quite realize that however imposing he could make himself look, Purple wouldn't be truly intimidated by anything short of a laser in his face, and not even Zim would so blatantly threaten his Tallest. Even so, somehow he felt that he wouldn't have to.

Sure, his handling of the vampires hadn't been enough to change Purple's mind about his worth as an Invader, but Zim was certain that on some level, Purple did value him. Why else would he have saved Zim's life? Given Zim his blood? Why else would he have ordered the black market operative Nail to come to Earth and actually make Zim taller?

The reminder that he wouldn't be this short for long cheered Zim up almost as much as the chocolate. Perhaps Zim wouldn't have to do anything. Perhaps Tallest Purple would realize on his own that Zim didn't deserve to be exiled.

For a moment, neither spoke. Zim devoured his chocolate and Purple navigated; after only a few days on Earth, he was already able to get around its city more easily than Zim could after two Earthen years. Not that Zim was about to admit that.

After perhaps a degree of silence, Purple said, "You can't be an Invader because you have another mission, remember? You've still got to make eggs."

"Oh. Of course," Zim said, much calmer now that he had some sugar and caffeine in his system. True, he wasn't completely wasting time during his exile. He was still making himself useful. And surely the Tallest would see that and reward him properly.

Zim blinked a few times, realizing his vision was starting to get slightly blurry; his Pak had stopped supplying power to his ocular implants. It had been a long night, cowering under one umbrella with Purple and three vampires. He was probably low on energy.

Purple apparently had the same thought, because he said, "I claim the recharge chamber first."

"Yes, my Tallest," Zim said, with only a hint of a disappointed sigh.

The brick-like Earthen buildings were starting to get smaller, which meant Zim and Purple were moving out of the core of the city and getting closer to his base. For once, they hadn't gotten completely lost trying to get home. Zim decided to let Purple lead more often.

"There's still about a day and a half until Nail's supposed to get here," Purple said. "Recharging's only going to keep us occupied forty degrees." That meant Purple had forgotten Zim would need to recharge after him. "What are we supposed to do until then?"

"Um..." Zim shrugged. He'd spent enough time exploring Earth over the past few days to last him an era. He just hoped his Tallest felt the same way. "Stay in the base, eat an obscene amount of snacks, and watch stupid documentaries about Napoleon?"

Purple shrugged as well. "I guess."

So they did.

Zim wondered why he hadn't just suggested that from the beginning. They watched four documentaries, eventually got bored with them, and watched nine or ten horrible "alien" moovys. They enjoyed the whole thing immensely. Sometime in the middle of either 2002: A Space Oddity or Indeterminate Day, Purple made what was perhaps the greatest snacking discovery in the past 50 eras: Doritos, if dipped in chocolate pudding, didn't leave that horrible aftertaste.

They had so much fun, in fact, that the computer had to try four times before it could get their attention to say that Nail had arrived.

xxxxx