Zim awoke back in his bedroom, panting. He looked around and calmed, but instantly stiffened as something suddenly appeared beside him.
"Skoodge?" Zim asked, confused.
"No, I am the ghost of Christmas Present in the form of you old friend Skoodge."
Zim started to question, "But you look like Skoodge, and sound like Skoodge, and smell like Skoodge," Zim pointed out the not so appealing part of his friend.
"Come on," Skoodge insisted, "I have to show you something."
Skoodge took hold of Zim's hand and for the second time that night, Zim was flying through the air.
This time Zim was lead to the other end of town, and it felt more like he was floating rather than hanging.
Skoodge tilted downward and settled on the snow before he let Zim down. There had been little snow the year so there were some spots where Zim didn't need his PAK legs.
"This is the Dib's house," Zim observed darkly. It was more a large shack than a house. One window lacked any glass, so it was boarded up. Zim could see that there was till room for the cold wind to slip through.
"I don't know why he chooses to live in such an environment."
Skoodge shook his head, "He doesn't choose Zim. Because he's always stopping you from destroying Earth he can't keep down a job. No job, no money, no paying the bills."
Zim thought the prospect about it, he felt a little guilty, though Zim would never admit it.
"Look in the window," Skoodge look in himself.
What Zim saw actually surprised him. He had never seen the house lit, let alone inhabited, before. Dib's sister, Gaz, and three of his children sat at the dinner table.
"Why is Gaz there?" Zim asked.
Skoodge replied without resentment or pity, "Dib begged her to move in to help with the kids. He knew they needed a mother. He would have rathered her over a stranger."
Zim followed the gaze of the children to a bedroom where Dib was leading an unsteady young boy to the table.
"Is he okay, Daddy?" "You okay, Tim?" "What happened?" The children asked, instantly silenced by Gaz's glare.
"He's okay. It's over. We're almost there Tim, just a little more. All right, up you go." Dib lifted his son into the chair.
Gaz rose to lift peas to plates, "Time to eat." Dib started to pass around small chicken legs.
"Why do they have so little food? I thought humans stuffed themselves on holidays," Zim asked again.
"Again," Skoodge sighed, "No job, no money. Any money goes to bills. Gaz pays for the food. Because of Dib, she can't keep a job either, although she has had more luck for a career."
More guilt nagged at Zim's insides.
One of the children had reduced to playing with her peas. "Sally, what's wrong?" her father asked.
She was silent for a few seconds, "How did Mom die?"
Now, all eating had ceased. Everyone waited for Dib's answer, even Zim, "Well, she was sick, and the doctors couldn't cure her. One night, she was gone."
"He hid the truth! He lied to them! Why would he do that?"
"Shhhh!" Skoodge hushed.
Zim returned to the meal.
Apparently Sally was not convinced. "Then why do I remember her lying in the street?" she challenged. Zim noticed Dib flinch. So had Gaz and Sally. "She was murdered wasn't she?"
"All right," Gaz intervened, "That's enough. How about a better topic? Jack, ask your father how his day was."
Jack looked hesitant, but turned to his dad. Dib had busied himself with shredding his meat.
"Dib?" Gaz asked.
Dib paused and shoved a strip of chicken in his mouth.
"Again?" the woman asked, bitterly. Dib continued to ignore her. Gaz knew what this meant. She slammed her silverware on the table, shoved her chair back, and stomped off. Sally rolled her eyes and continued to fiddle with her peas.
Zim, true to form, ignored the bad thing and moved on, "He can pull through. He always does."
Skoodge just shook his head in despair. Then, all went black.
