I'm baaaaaaaack! I saw my aunt and GUESS WHAT? It turns out, she's one of us! That's right, forks... my aunt is an Invader Zim fangirl! She liked my GIR hoodie :P I'm so HAPPEEEEEE!
Oh, so here's your chappie. I'm working on something... darker 0.o I really like darkfics, believe it or not. The angsty Zim-gets-caught ones are so hard to read without sobbing... I LUV THEEEEEEM~! I have issues, yeah. Anyway, here goes something...
Chapter 6: It gets worse... or is that better?
"Hey," said Dib, "I think she's... dead. GOOD JOB, GIR!"
"Thanks!" said GIR, not comprehending sarcasm. He had drained the water from his system. Of course. GIR can't die! It's like, the law of the universe! DUH!
"Nooo! Stoopid Dib-beast! You destroyed the prisoner!" Zim growled. Gaz poked the corpse.
"NOW what am I going to tell the Swollen Eyeballs? This is all your fault, ZIM!" Dib groaned.
"Oh yeah? Well... your head is stupid! It's a pile of stupid filth in your jelly legs that you need to BREATHE!"
Dib winced "Zim, no more making insults based on human anatomy. They're so bad, it hurts my brain to listen to you."
"It also hurts your legs!" Zim said knowledgeably.
"What? OK, I'm not even going to try to understand you anymore..."
Gaz snickered as the rivals slowly restarted their battle. She was feeling slightly less sadistic and more bored. She pulled on rubber gloves and dragged the body out of the room.
"I guess we could all be charged with murder for this," she said to herself when she reached her room, "So I'll just hide the body..."
"Hey! Kid! Get your filthy hands off me!"
"What the heck?" Gaz jumped back, "You're alive? How did you survive the bitter irony?"
"Oh, I'm not alive. I'm a ghost. Boo!" she cackled. It was a legit cackle. "Jhonen sent me back. He told me to stick around, wait for the respawn sequence or something crazy like that."
"And let me guess. I'm the only living person who can see you, and now we're like, blood sisters or something?" Gaz rolled her eyes.
"Yeah. He blamed some Fangirl for that garbage," Lak Shmi said, shrugging, "I guess it's part of the whole immortality deal."
"So... do ghosts eat all the pizza? Or cereal? Or watch bad paranormal TV shows?" Gaz asked.
"I'm lactose intolerant, so no on the pizza and cereal. And I don't know what a TV show is. So no on all counts, I guess," the alien replied, "Why?"
Gaz sighed. "I suppose I can tolerate you, then. Don't make a nuisance of yourself."
"Oh, come ON! My middle NAME is nuisance! I'm just one big nuisance catastrophe waiting to happen! That's how I've survived this long! You can't deny me my nuisance-ness!"
"Too bad. Until the respawn sequence, your stuck with me," Gaz smirked, "You're also kind of stuck in my room, because I don't want to watch Dib and Zim fighting over you again."
"They were... what?" she shook her head, "I don't think..."
"I was just kidding. Jeez. Who in their right mind would want to fight over you?" Gaz wrinkled her nose, "Anyway, I have to go to Skool, now. Stay here."
"But I have Skool, too, then! I have to go to Skool with you!"
Gaz pouted. "Oh. This is really gonna suck, isn't it?"
"Yeah," said Lak Shmi, "It's gonna suck raw greebsnork eggs."
***
"Hey, watch it!" Tallest Purple said. Red laughed maniacally, steering the ship violently to the left.
"BWA HA HA HA! NO NAVIGATORS! NO DRONES! JUST ME AN' YOU, BUDDY!" he screamed, doing a loop-de-loop that made the doughnut supply tip over.
"Really, Red!" Purple grasped a chair, "I'm gonna be sick!"
"No! Not on the rug!"
"Yeah well- hey, is that a Vort ship?" Purple gasped.
"Um, yeah, I guess so. Why?" Red asked.
"Shouldn't we be doing something?" Tallest Purple pointed to the boxy little ship. It looked kind of... not good.
"Not again!" Red moaned, "Call them, and tell them we're gonna blow 'em up!"
"This all sounds vaguely familiar," Purple mumbled, hailing the ship. A very disgruntled crew flickered onto the screen.
"We are the *HACK* Resisty!" Shloonktapooxis coughed, "What the HECK to you *COUGH* want?"
"Whoa! What happened to you guys?" asked Purple chummily.
"We *WHEEZE* went FLYIN' through a star, lookin' for Lard Nar, you know, the guy you kinda captured..."
"Oh, we're saving his girlfriend or something," said Red.
"Lard Nar has a girlfriend?"
"Yeah, some Lak Shmi chick."
Shloonktapooxis laughed and shook his head, "Oh no, they're NOT DATING! NOT AT ALL! Thank goodness for that..."
"Oh," said Purple, "That's boring."
"It really is," Spleenk said, "However, lots of stuff happens in between adventures, so we don't think to much about it. We're too busy running. And screaming."
"Ah."
"Yep."
"Well, we're looking for Lak Shmi," said Red, "Do you know where you dropped her off?"
"Some blue-y, green-y planet. It was called... um..." Shloonktapooxis checked the ship's log, "...Urrth."
"Oh no," said Purple, aghast, "Anywhere but there. Please tell me we don't have to go there!"
"Look, we'll survive," Red said, "Finding the Vort chick is a lot more important than any failed invader. We'll just tell him to buzz off if we see him. He can't disobey a direct order."
"I have NO IDEA what you're talking about," said Shloonktapooxis, "But we'll give you the coordinates for Urrth if you give us the coordinates of the Massive so we can find Lard Nar!"
"But, if we give you Lard Nar, and then we find Lak Shmi, isn't that just exchanging one prisoner for another?" Tallest Red raised a brow, "Sounds pretty stupid to me."
"We'll rendezvous at some point and do some mad bargaining. Don't worry, we're professionals. We just got Lou here back from the Meekrob, and it only took five years!" Spleenk said proudly.
"Hiya," said Lou.
"Okay... but don't try anything! In fact, I've got half a mind to beam you all over until this crazy thing is over!" Red said.
"Oh no! Don't do that! It will make Lou have... flashbacks," Spleenk whispered.
"Okay, now my mind is made up. We're beaming you over, and we're going to Earth," Red said, "Purple, lock onto their coordinates."
"Mmkay," he grunted. The crew disappeared on the screen and reappeared behind the Tallests.
"The... horror..." Lou whimpered, covering his eyes.
"Oh, that's just great! Thanks a lot, guys! Now we're so busy saving Lou from implosion that we're forgetting that you can easily throw us all in that Convenient Holding Cell™ right over there!" Spleenk said, annoyed.
One Convenient Holding Cell™ later...
"You had to say that out loud, didn't you?" Shloonktapooxis growled to his fellow crew member.
"I said I was sorry!"
***
"Well, what do we do now?" the Fangirl asked.
"Yeah, Lard Nar, you're really adept at this stuff, aren't you?" Tak said with a little smile. Lard Nar knew that smile. He shuddered.
"Um..." he looked uncertainly at the navigators, who were feeling especially honored to be left in charge of the Massive and some important prisoners. The drones were still acting... oddly, but only the Fangirl could place the exact reason why it was so odd.
The others were, thankfully, protected by Jhonen's divine influence.
Plus, the Fangirl just has her mind in the gutter.
"I guess... we can get... snacks?" the Vortian had never had Irken snacks before. He was very curious about their supposedly mystical properties. He could use all the mysticism he could get.
"That's a great idea!" the Fangirl said, "...Nar."
Oh no. She called me... did she just seriously call me...? Lard Nar was in such total formality shock he didn't notice the lightening flashing between the two females.
Formality means a great deal to Vortians. According to myth, a war was once started because of a lapse of manners. It was called The Great War on Burping. Some thought burping at the table showed appreciation of the food, others thought it incredibly distasteful.
Enough history. It's stupid and pointless. Don't let my history teacher know I said that...
"You're not even allowed to get snacks, you know," one of the navigators whispered, "Well, the Irken is, but not you."
Grateful for distraction, Lard Nar said, "Uh... Tak, is it? Would you please go get us some nachos?"
"Of course, Nar," she said, looking daggers at the Fangirl. She stepped into an elevator and went downstairs.
"That was... odd," Lard Nar remarked to a nearby drone.
"I don't speak with lesser-thans," she huffed, turning her head haughtily. Lard Nar realized she must not have many people she's allowed to act haughtily to.
"What kind of a hole did you think the Massive was?" Lard Nar hissed to his fellow prisoner.
"I... I was watching a movie," the girl said sullenly, "I thought all ships acted like this."
"That's... that's just..." he shook his head, "I'm sorry, I can't even begin to describe how twisted and insane that is."
"What, doesn't your ship have a bar?"
"...I won't even dignify that with a response," he said.
***
Jhonen downed the last of his coffee. Fan fiction was pretty fun, actually. Not as fun as drawing stuff, but still pretty fun. It was like working on an episode of Zim, but without annoying writers trying to "dumb it down" for the kids. He was pretty disgusted with that little girl for sticking some sleazy brothel in the Massive. That's just messed up! I mean, really! Violence and death is okay, but honest to God, who'd think of putting a sleazy brothel in the sky?
(A/N If any of you have read Problem Sleuth, I love you- you are the blessed few who got that reference.)
He saved the file. Things were happening. Lots of things. He'd almost forgotten he had a life outside of this. It was frightening. This must be a side effect of writing fan fiction. Jhonen sighed. He had some drawing to do. He was on a deadline.
More coffee. He closed the file. There was a review on his fan fiction. He opened it.
This is awful. You can't write for Gaz at all, can you? I mean, she'd never say that! And what's with naming your account "legit im srsly jhonen vasquez no joke"? COME ON!
He laughed for ten minutes, then went to eat cheese.
He very much liked cheese.
That's why he made the goat-thing lactose intolerant. So she could never experience the joy of cheese.
He was evil. Sheer evil.
He sighed. One more cup of coffee, and he'd be able to commune with his creations. Jhonen Vasquez buys really good, really strong coffee for the sole purpose of communing.
In the kitchen, his last cup was brewing. Lying in wait, quietly. It was almost ready.
The clock was ticking. His fan fiction was up to a thousand views. A thousand eyes watching, waiting.
It would have been creepy, had they not all been girls between the ages of 12 and 27. The fanboys were all playing Minecraft.
Fun fact:
I am a HUGE fan of hard boiled detective fiction!
Any other Dashiell Hammet readers out there? No? Aw... I'm such a loser. :'( Actually, I'm also the only girl in my school who likes Invader Zim *sobs* THANKS FOR REMINDING ME OF MY FAILURE, GUYS!