Happy Ramadan
Inside a dark, imposing-looking house, a kettle whistled on a stove. Gaz turned the burner off with a casual flick and picked the kettle up, pouring the boiled water into a cup already half-filled with brown powder. Adding a splash of milk, Gaz sat back in her chair and sipped the hot chocolate. She was dimly aware of Dib yelling something stupid about the fate of the earth and the rumbling sound of the garage door opening, but she couldn't have cared much less. Then, after a dull roar, everything was quiet again.
Very quiet.
Gaz put down her mug and cast a glance in the direction of her father's laboratory. All was still. No rattle of tools, nor monologue describing a new invention. All complete silence.
"That jerk," Gaz muttered, her eyes squinted so far closed that they seemed almost shut. "He's not even going to be home for Christmas Eve."
There was another moment of deafening silence, then with firm resolution Gaz pushed back her chair and stalked to the pantry, rooting around until she found what she needed. Following that she went out in the garage, grunted annoyedly as she realized that Dib had left the garage door open and closing it before she got hypothermia. Once that was done, she found an empty cardboard box and took it back into the kitchen, where she worked for a short while. Then, with the box tucked under her arm, Gaz, still wearing her normal stoic expression, opened the door to her father's lab and clicked the lights on. In the corner was a matter-transfer device, which her father sometimes used when he needed to get to work quickly. Putting the box on the faintly glowing platform, Gaz marched over to the control pad and typed in a series of commands. After an instant, the box had vanished in a crackle of light.
Gaz stood there for a moment more, then shrugged emotionlessly and tromped back upstairs.
At Membrane Labs, a pimply-faced teenager suddenly burst into the Professor's office. "Th-this package addressed to you came by matter-transfer, sir," he squawked, putting a cardboard box on the celebrity-slash-scientist's lab bench and retreating out the door to go order some pizzas.
Professor Membrane glanced upwards from his latest dimension-penetrating invention and looked at the delivery curiously through his protective goggles. "A package? For me?" he asked in a booming voice, although there was nobody else there. Stooping down from his immense height, Professor Membrane picked up the box and peeled off the masking tape.
Pulling back the cardboard flaps, he was surprised to find a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
As he pulled up in front of Zim's house, the first thing Dib saw was the roof split wide open like a gaping cavern. "NOOO!!" he shouted, jumping out of his vehicle and running up the walkway. "I'm TOO LATE! ZIM'S GONE! MANKIND IS DOOMED! AND I CAN'T STOP YELLING THINGS OUT LOUD!!"
Dib collapsed upon the doorstep and sobbed hysterically into his mittens. Snow was collecting on his spiked black hair, a final mockery, and he shivered with the still-falling snow as well as with the dread. But as he did, something caught his attention—there were flickering lights showing through the window. Dib leapt to his feet, then sidestepped the attack gnomes' defensive perimeters and dove in front of the open shutters. He pressed his face against the glass, then backed away and wiped off the frost with his mittens before looking in again. There was Zim's pet robot, watching television and guzzling an entire carton of eggnog.
"There's Zim's pet robot, watching television and guzzling an entire carton of eggnog!" Dib cried triumphantly to no one in particular, punching the air. "HE would know where Zim's gone!" The boy paused, then slapped himself on the forehead. "Why am I still saying this out loud?"
Rushing haphazardly back towards the door (and slipping on a patch of ice as he did so), Dib grasped the doorknob and turned it experimentally. The door was unlocked. Not believing his luck, and saying so out loud, Dib walked right in only to have his face collide with a small silver-and-blue robot.
"WHEEEEEEEEEEEheeheeheehee!!" GIR squealed, hugging Dib's large head and nestling his own metal dome against Dib's pointy hair. Dib screamed, stumbled, then fell onto his back like a turtle. Unfortunately, this meant that he was technically outside the house, and so it would be rational to conclude that Dib's entire back was now covered in snow.
"GET OFF OF MEEEEEEE!!" Dib cried, his voice a few octaves higher than normal and a bit hoarse from the effort. GIR paused, then his eyes flashed red and he jumped off. Immediately after that, his color scheme reverted back to normal.
"Okey-DOKEY!" he giggled loudly, then did a very short dance in place. Once the little robot had deemed that Dib—who was shaking himself free from snow and standing tremblingly up—had appreciated the recital enough, GIR pulled a carton of eggnog seemingly from nowhere, ripped the top open and began to slurp noisily from it. The little robot stared blankly at Dib, who was trying to compose himself.
"Um," Dib began brilliantly, scratching his head. His thick black winter coat was making him uncomfortable in the heat of the house, but he kept it on as padding in case the robot attacked him again. Unnerved by GIR's gaze and by the sinister-looking trail of eggnog leaking out over his metal chin, Dib glanced from side to side in an effort to look at anything else. The flickering patterns of the TV caught his attention, so he looked at that.
On the screen was a two-dimensional animated cartoon, with a creature that looked like a penguin but possessed an inordinately large beak—or, technically, a nose. The penguin had on a red bowtie and brown aviator goggles, and was writing purposefully on a small slip of paper.
"Please, sir, I have only one request this Christmas," a reedy, nasal voice-over recited. "One passion, one wish: some penguin wings...that WORK."
Dib didn't know it, but at that very moment he was witnessing one of the corporate penguin-related plots Ms. Bitters had described just that morning. However, he didn't care much, as the Christmas banner adorning the bottom of the screen reminded him of why he was there.
"DO YOU KNOW WHERE ZIM—" he blurted, turning back to GIR—but GIR was gone.
"WHAAAAAAAT??" Dib began to break down again. "WHERE IS IT?! I NEED THAT ROBOT!! WHERE DID IT GOOOOOO?!" He dove to the floor and looked panickedly under the couch, then inside the closet where he jumped in terror as two ill-made robots shouted "WELCOME HOME, SON!". There was no part of the room he didn't scour—he looked behind the TV (where the penguin had randomly joined up with a scruffy-looking orange cat), he checked inside the seat cushions of the armchair, he even jumped onto the couch and pulled the scary-looking monkey picture off the wall to see if GIR was hiding behind there.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Dib wailed, shaking his fists in the air. "I've come too far for this to happen!! Where is that stupid robot?!"
Suddenly, GIR's face appeared smilingly uspide-down in front of Dib's eyes, and the sharp contours of his legs dug slightly into Dib's skull. "I liiiike yoooou."
Not surprisingly, Dib screamed and blacked out for a minute or two. When he woke up again, there was a very fake-looking green dog sitting on his chest. The dog, its felt tongue sticking out, waved cheerfully.
"Helllloooo!" he chirruped. This time, Dib forewent any opening remarks and simply scrambled out from under GIR and stood defiantly before him.
"All right, evil scummy alien robot...scum!" he accused, pointing a mittened finger imperiously at the disguised robot. GIR scratched his head with a "paw", much like a real dog would. "WHERE'S ZIM?!"
GIR remained silent, completely ignoring the human as he slurped eggnog from a new carton and continued grooming himself in a doglike manner. Dib's eye twitched as he waited for a response, but GIR continued to act as if Dib wasn't there. After about three minutes, Dib still in the same accusatory position, GIR suddenly jumped and stared at Dib as if he hadn't known he was there. His dog hood flopping off, GIR cocked his head to one side. "What'cha DOOOOIN'?"
Dib clawed at his spiky hair. "AAAAAAAARGH!!" he howled, smashing his head against the wall. ...This didn't turn out to be such a good idea. Clutching his head to try to stop the throbbing, Dib whirled back around to face GIR with every ounce of annoyance that he possessed. "WHERE IS ZIM?!"
GIR blinked at him, the blue light in his eye sockets fizzling slightly as they recharged. "Where's mastah'?" he asked.
"YEEEEEEES!"
"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..." GIR pondered aloud, slurping from the eggnog carton. He turned back to Dib. "Y'mean mastah with spiky hair an' pig hoofs an' magical wings that make cream cheese?"
It was Dib's turn to blink. "Uhhhhhhhh...Zim," he repeated skeptically.
"Oh yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh..." GIR replied, then stared up at Dib in surprise. "Do you know mastah?" he asked incredulously.
Dib spasmed. "YES!!"
Giggling, GIR came to a decision. "You got a big head!" he squealed, leaning to one side and staring at it.
"No, I don't!"
"Yuh-huh."
Dib slapped a palm across his face, dragging his hand downward until it stretched his skin. "Look, robot," he cried exasperatedly, "I know you don't care, but my entire RACE is in DANGER! WHERE IS ZIM?!"
The little robot slurped down another pint of eggnog, then looked up at Dib with an innocent grin. "D'ya reaaaaaaally want ta' know?" he asked.
"YES!"
"'Re ya suuuuuuure?"
"YESSS!!"
"Really really REALLY sure?"
"YES!!"
"Def-ee-nitt-ly SURE?"
Dib was really fed up by now. "YES!!" he shouted, stomping his foot forcefully. He punched the wall for emphasis, then shuddered in convulsions of pain and blew on his knuckles. GIR broke open a new carton, this time not even eggnog but straight half-and-half, and began guzzling. After a short pause, though, he cocked his head again with a disappointed sigh.
"Aaaaaaaaw...I fergot what the question was."
There was a moment of silence broken only by the tinny sounds of the TV as Dib attempted to resist the urge to jump on the couch and start babbling gibberish. "WHERE," he hissed quietly, curling his hands into mitteny fists, "IS, ZIM?"
Tilting his head back, GIR dumped the rest of the half-and-half down his throat and burped metallically. "Eeeyeaaaaaaaaaaaaah, master!" he realized, pointing in a random direction. "He went ta' the South Pole." At that, GIR very calmly sat down in front of the TV and stared hypnotically at the screen again.
"The South Pole!!" Dib gasped aloud, not seeming to remember that GIR was in earshot. "I was right, he IS going to attack the ice caps!" He clutched the sides of his head. "This is TERRIBLE! I have to do something! I'm the only one who can!" At this, Dib drew himself up dramatically. "Because I—"
He was rudely interrupted as an empty half-and-half carton was speedily introduced to his forehead. "SHHHHHHHHHH!!" GIR admonished, layering the human with robot spittle (a mixture of Irken nitrogen and gasoline). "I'm watchin' the MOVIE!!"
"Ah, right, sorry," Dib apologized hurriedly, then tore out the door. He had to move fast, or else the world as he knew it was doomed—and this was a big enough problem that he didn't even stop to yell it out loud.
Zim was cruising easily now, even in the despicably thick Earth atmosphere. With a satisfied grin, he put the ship on "Autopilot" and put his feet up on the dashboard. There was no hurry. Either way, once he reached the South Pole, all mankind was doomed. Why rush it?
Suddenly, though, Zim lurched forward as an idea occurred to him. "MMM-HMMM!" he "MMM-HMMM!"ed, sliding his legs off the control panel and punching up a code on the Irken touch-screen. "That's it!" he realized, rubbing his hands together excitedly as a small video screen unfolded itself in front of him, buzzing with static. "I must inform my Tallest of my imminent conquest! Oh, they'll be so PLEASED!"
After a moment or two, an image appeared on the screen of the two Tallest, Irkens in large robotic suits (red and purple, respectively), in the starship the Massive with annoyed expressions plastered on their faces. A muffled boom filtered through the Voot Cruiser's speakers, and the onscreen image shook. The Tallest wobbled with the screen, the purple-suited one actually falling over as his accordingly-colored robotic suit lost balance. Shielding his head with his arms, the red-suited Tallest glared at Zim through the screen.
"WHAT do you WANT, Zim?!" he snapped irritably as a second tremor shook the image. "If you DON'T mind, we're in the MIDDLE of a battle with the RESISTY!"
Zim chuckled airily and casually waved a hand. "Of course I don't mind, my Tallest!" he reassured them, then leaned close in towards the screen as his eyes widened. "MY, you two are looking TALL today!"
The purple-suited Tallest scrambled to his feet, pointing with a robotic claw at various off-camera officers. "Start using those blinky-lighty-thingies!" he demanded in a shrill voice that was even higher than his normal tones. "Over there! You guys start doing...stuff! And YOU! Press that big button that says 'Do not push'! I have NO idea what it does, but push it anyways! And you—" In the midst of all his frantic directing, the Tallest suddenly caught sight of the video screen and jumped. "Holy cow, what's Zim doing here?!"
Bursting with excitement, Zim emitted an involuntary "Squeee!!" before clearing his throat and looking appropriately Invaderlike. "I just wanted to tell you, my Tallest, that I will finally CRUSH THE FILTHY HYUUUUMANSSSS!!"
He waited expectantly for the Tallests' reaction, which was to shout "Whooooooa!!" as the Massive lurched again. Waving his robot-suit's arms desperately to keep balance, the red-suited Tallest nearly slammed into the video screen. "Not NOW, Zim!!" he commanded testily.
"WELL," Zim began dramatically, his minuscule Irken mind not registering the directive, "it is a BRILLIANT plan. You see, the Earth is home to this odd creature called a 'penguin', the purpose of which is to cause human muck-beasts to grow WEAK with AWE!!" He shook his fist meaningfully at this point. "So, my ingeeeeeeeeenious plan is to turn these creatures AGAINST the humans!" He attempted to smile winningly at the video screen, but it just made his face stretch to almost ridiculous proportions. "Pretty good, right?"
The two Tallest exchanged a look. "You called us up just to tell us THAT?!" demanded the red-suited one, who looked ready to smash the communications screen.
"These calls are COLLECT, you know!" his purple counterpart griped. "The charge for these communications are all coming out of the Empire's POCKET!!"
"But my Tallest," Zim explained in soothing tones, "I have not the monies to pay it myself! And I shall repay all of it once I have conquered this slimy mudball and, you know, gone on talk shows about it and stuff." He paused, then something registered in the back of his mind. "AH YEEEESS!" he cried, gripping the sides of the screen in excitement. "And to further the scalding HUMILIATION of being conquered so easily, I'm destroying the Earth race on the human holiday of Christmas!"
Despite himself, the red-suited Tallest cocked his head in curiosity, blinking his rectangular scarlet eyes. "Christmas?" he inquired just as the Massive was bombarded with another laser charge.
Zim huffed in annoyance. "Yes, yes, some useless human holiday FILTH about a season of giving and how men and fellows are both equal or something. BUT YOU NEED NOT WORRY! It is nothing the Irken Armada should take heed of." He gave an exaggerated salute. "Invader Zim signing off!" he announced, and terminated the connection.
Back on the Massive, the Tallest looked at each other. "Season of giving?" the purple-suited Irken clarified. His red counterpart nodded, grinning widely, then leaned forwards to punch in a code on a nearby computer console. The video screen crackled to life, fizzing with static, then dissolved into an image of Lard Nar in his command seat.
"What? A communication?" the small, blue-gray, horned Vortian demanded in a guttural voice. His goggles-encased eyes made contact with the screen, and the two Tallest smiled brightly while waving their robotic claws.
"Merry Christmas!" they chorused, and the Massive gave the opposing ship everything it had.
The Tallest laughed for a while as the captain of the Resisty fell out of his chair following the huge blow to his craft, then closed the communication, still hooting. "Hey," commented the red-suited leader, wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye, "this Christmas thing isn't so bad after all."