I…am…reborn! I shall… devour your souls! …Oh, sorry, wrong document. Anyway I just thought that I should update because I'm gonna be gone for a week!
Random Irken: Lord Dread Raven owns nothing. Can I go home now?
Chapter 19
A Master Plan and Fear of Styrofoam
Zim was swiftly forming a plan. His normally magenta eyes were still glowing, but only faintly. Swiftly he drew out his communicator and began to establish a link to the Massive. He didn't have to wait long.
"Oh. Zim." Red sighed "What is it?"
"My Tallest!" Zim saluted with fake enthusiasm. "I have located the position of X!" The Tallest grinned ever so slightly.
"Unfortunately," Zim continued, "All working ships were destroyed in a mishap involving an exploding… moose… all off the Hunters, as well as me, Skoodge and Tak, have been stranded on an uninhabited planet."
Tallest Red shrugged. "Send out a homing signal. We'll be there to blow you… I mean pick you up."
"Yes my Tallest! Invader Zim signing off!"
Red and Purple glanced at each other and smirked evilly. That was far too easy.
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Nny had not ceased pacing. His insane mind was thinking, one thought over and over again.
How? How did they escape? How come the wall monster didn't keep them? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?
And so on.
To Johnny's amazement, Reverend Meat had a theory.
"The monster, the wall, you, the blood, the killing, it was all a system." He explained. "The doughboys too. When the waste lock was broken, the monster escaped and the system fell apart. Whatever the monster wanted the doughboys back for, he finished with them and threw them out like toys it was no longer interested in."
Nny made a thoughtful "Hmm…" sound.
"Total system backup huh? Interesting. Speaking of killing, anyone noticed that they aren't dead yet? I have been annoyed out of my friggin' skull, and yet, no one has died yet… That was too many yets."
Nny lazily stretched and stalked lazily about, mainly just trying to find a distraction. It wasn't that he was worried, he was mainly just bored. He was bored out of his mind. Which was a bad sign for anyone likely to get killed when he was in a bad mood. And this was probably worse than in a bad mood.
Nny made a soft growling sound deep in his throat. He really, really wanted to kill someone. ASAP. If not sooner.
His fingers twitched ever so slightly. A small itch ran across them. An itch for a sharp object… And he happened to have at least a dozen of them hidden in the coat he wore, a trench coat like the one he had found in Hell.
An idea came to him. He sat down and reached into one of the deep pockets he had, and pulled out a battered old book. His old journal.
He drew out a pencil and began to write thoughtfully.
Dear Die-ary,
My life seems to have taken many turns. The last time I wrote here, I wished to become cold, unfeeling. I wanted to lose all emotions, but now… Now I am unsure. As I think to myself, I remember all of the crimes I have committed. I have slain more people than any one soldier could, and yet not all of them were asses. Some, like that one man, Edgar Vargas, or that one person who escaped from the wall, whose name I can't recall, (Everything a few days before the moment I died is a little blurry. I remember something about a misshapen potato and a reject jelly bean…) they seemed like good enough people. And then again; some of them truly deserved it, such as that man who tried to take little Squeegee, or that total moron, Jimmy. Ugh… Every time I hear that name, I shudder with pure revulsion. I need time to ponder and a way to escape my boredom. I must say, as I said once before, I can't help but look forward to where my life is going now.
Nny paused a moment before signing his name below
-Johnny C.
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