The Occult Experience

Chapter Eleven

After school activities.

Or

Legally, it's not stalking if you have a camera and claim to be working for the school paper.

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Dib was in a mood as he walked home from his latest soujourn to protect himself, his stuff, and finally Earth (Which coincides with protecting himself and his stuff) from the alien-almost-a-menace that was Zim.

He wasn't in a good mood.

It was, in fact, a rather sour mood. Most likely brought on by the fact that, after two rounds of kicking and screaming with Zim, he looked like he'd come fresh out of a meat grinder. One that was rusty and broke multiple FDA regulation but was still in use, like the one in McMeaties.

On a related note, Dib hadn't set foot in a McMeaties since the school fieldtrip there last year, but that's not really here or there, but somewhere far over in that direction, the one that nobody is interested in looking in.

But back to the story, Dib was scuffed, scratched, and had a few shallow cuts thanks in no small part to the giant metal claw of Zim's base ripping him out of the Irkens grip and tossing him to the sidewalk. His glasses were cracked, one of his knees was skinned (The left one), and his trademark cowlick was rather lacking in it's natural 'Sproing!'. All this said, it should be very understandable that Dib was in a bad mood. From this point forward, things should only get better, right?

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"Stupid Zim... Friggin jerk... Camera." Dib grumbled quietly to himself as his home came into view. The front lights were on, which hopefully meant Shauna was watching... What time was it? He rolled back his left sleeve. Eight O' clock, so probably House or something. Al had disappeared a few days back, and that, unsurprisingly, had made Shauna a lot less anxious and just in general easier to be around.

A lot easier to be around. No more screaming fits or emotional outbursts that didn't make any sense to him.

Dib opened the front door and stepped out of the chill and into the warmth of his home. Not any emotional warmth, as this isn't a lovey-dovey touchy feely story, but the warmth of electrical heat.

Actually, the most prevalent emotion in the home is loneliness, followed by tempered rage and fear, but Dib did his best not to focus on such a thought. That would break the delusion he kept himself in, and that would turn this into an angst story, and Dib couldn't have that. He wasn't old enough for teenage angst.

"Hello? I'm... Home?" Nobody responded to his call, and he could hear the television going in the other room, quieter than normal. Curious now, he walked into the living room for an odd sight. The television was on, though barely audible and Shauna was sitting on the couch a little oddly. She was sprawled across the couch, her skull on one of the arm-rests and an arm draped over her eye-sockets. "Hello? Shauna, hello~o."

No response. Dib assumed she must be sleeping, which was kind of odd. He hadn't caught her doing so the entire time she'd been here, but he just assumed she was doing it when he was, or when he was at school, or else that she didn't need it. He'd just about worked up the nerve to poke her and see if she was really sleeping when he'd noticed two things on the end table behind her skull. A plate full of crumbs and paper that had his name on it in big block letters. While he was certainly curious as to why there was a plate with crumbs on it next to her, considering the lich didn't have a stomach and therefore couldn't eat, the paper was worth a bit more attention. He grabbed it and turned it over to find a short note written to him.

Dib

If I'm asleep, don't wake me. I haven't slept since I came here, and I'll be very upset if awoken without a good reason. Very upset.

P.S.

I made you a sandwich.

Dib scratched the side of his head with his free hand. That still didn't explain why the sandwich was gone. He'd blame Gaz, and he knew he'd probably be right, but he didn't want to get into another fight today. He'd already lost two.

Instead he chose to go upstairs and file away the information he'd garnered today on his computer. Admittedly it wasn't much, just that Zim could smell through his antennae and that liches did apparently need sleep. He stopped at the bathroom door atop the stairs, but the doorknob wouldn't turn, the door was locked. Well, okay, that wasn't too important. He did keep a private stock of hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls in his closet, he'd just have to go to the kitchen instead. As he stepped away and towards his room, he heard the unmistakable sound of flatulance and a groan that sounded like it was coming from his sister.

Dib blinked a few times as he tried to put two and two together without making three and he realized something.

Supertoast sandwich.

"Well..." Dib muttered quietly to himself after he was in his room where he was certain she couldn't hear him. "Better her than me."

He flopped down on his bed, tired, certainly, but not quite tired enough to sleep, and landed belly first on something square and hard. He rolled off the bed and pulled back his covers. Alright, there were a few books lying on a trench coat that looked exactly like what he was wearing, minus a bunch of tears and a broken seam on the bottom of the left sleeve. He looked at the first book on top of the pile of three, and for the first time that day he wore a grin.

The Black Mages Masterbook by H. Ling.

The Magics of Machinery by K. Palazzo and C. Kramer.

Runes, a Magical Language, No, Seriously by Authors Numerous

He doubted these books could make him more than a moron with a clue in the magical world, but hopefully with Shauna's help he wouldn't end up catching his house on fire... More than once. He moved the books down to the floor to get a look at his new trench coat and he saw another note, though this one was... It looked like it was written in a rush.

dIb madE yOU A cOaT IT has sOmE cOOL fEatUTrEs And yOU shOUld chEck All ThE pockETs. Al.

"Erm, wow. Someone has a problem with punctuation. And I... Really need to stop talking to myself." Dib slipped off his trenchcoat and shivered slightly. It just didn't really feel natural to him. He may not have worn it when he was sleeping, but he always had it at least within reach at all times.

Slipping on the new trench coat he noticed a few differences. The sleeves were a little longer, and covered the knuckles of his hands, and the inside of it had a cotton lining instead of silk. It felt... different, less smooth, but not exactly bad, he could already tell that the material breathed a lot easier. He stuffed his hands into the side pockets, and went almost elbow deep. And it didn't even show on the material. He also had a breast pocket, but it was completely normal except for another note in it.

I'd sUggEsT TakIng A paIr Of scIssOrs TO yOUr Old cOaT cUTTIng OUT ThE rUnE And sTITchIng IT TO ThE InsIdE Of A backpack Or sOmEThIng sImIlar.

"That's actually not a bad idea." Dib mumbled as he crinkled up the note and threw it into a small waste basket in his room. But that was going to have to wait until later. Nobody but Zim knew what kind of alien bacteria lived and thrived in the Irken's lair, but he wasn't about to let it infect him. He knew without doubt that the doctors around here were incompetent enough to label it a flu and then prescribe antibiotics. Winning combination, that.

AN/ A little short of my preferred range of 10KB but I didn't feel I could expand this chapter much further. Dib might make a few clever devices, but he's no master magician, and he won't become one during the course of this story.