I love Proffy sooooo much! Professor Membrane is my favorite character, and I don't know why the heck I love him so much! 3 HHHHH. I think I should be taken away but just not by Professor Membrane because then I'd puke on him and get a heart attack. That's what I told someone on Kik…
Help.
Professor Membrane rubbed his fingers through the little hair he had. It had been three days after Dib's suicide attempt, and Dib just seemingly got worse. All of the medication seemed to make him worse. The medications he took were powerful, and he kept on tossing his lunch after taking them, making him incredibly sickly and ill. Professor Membrane kept on having to escort Dib to the sink, and after a while he just brought Dib down to his lab in the basement because there were plenty of sinks down there which he could get sick in… and also to see if maybe, by any chance the sleep-deprived, stressed professor could whip up something that could help his son out.
"Son, are you alright?" He asked Dib after he'd just been sick again. What a foolish thing to utter. Of course he wasn't alright! The only thing keeping him sane was making him horribly ill. Why would he be "alright"?
"Yeah, Dad," Dib said, washing himself off as he did so.
"You don't look alright to me." The professor tried to cover up his anxiety with a layer of reassurance, but he was doing a terrible job at it.
"Yeah, well, you know," Dib said. He proceeded to get sick again.
"Son, could you please hop up on this table for me?" Professor Membrane was trying his best to stay calm. Dib did as he was told.
"I'm just going to examine you a small bit," the professor reassured. He lightly pressed on Dib's stomach, in a similar fashion that a doctor would. Dib burped. He swatted the professor's hands away.
"Dad, don't do that! It makes me feel sick!"
"Okay, Son. I'm sorry." He removed his hands and for a long time stared at Dib. He bent down and examined Dib's face. It was pale and sickly, and strips of hair were out of place.
"Son, do you think there's another way we can work this out?" Dib stared at his father, confused.
"Work out what?"
"These medications are making you vomit up everything," he said. "Please talk to a therapist for me, Son." Dib frowned.
"Dad, I don't think I can…" and then Dib saw his father do something he'd almost never seen his father do. In fact, he didn't recall ever seeing his father do this.
He cried.
Cried hard. He hiccuped and sniffled and sat down on the floor. He put his head in his knees and just cried for the longest time ever. His life was falling apart! Just like the digits of pi, the suffering was infinite. His son was mentally disabled and it's all because of Zim. He hated Zim. Hated him so much! How dare he strip Dib of all his free will? Professor Membrane promptly stopped crying. He stood up and brushed himself off.
"Son, stay here," he said.
"I'm going to pay someone a visit.
When he reached Zim's house, the dog answered. He thought this was peculiar. What kind of dog answered a door?
"Who is there?" Zim said. "Ah, Dib's father! So nice to see you—"
"MY NAME IS PROFESSOR MEMBRANE AND I REFUSE TO BE CALLED ANYTHING BUT THAT." Zim paused.
"I'm sorry, Professor Membrane," he said and apologized profusely.
"So what brings you to the lair— eh, house… what brings you to the house of ZIM?" Professor Membrane inched slowly and dangerously towards Zim.
"You listen up close, because I will say this once and once only," he said. What intimidated Zim most about the professor was his height. He was about the same size as the Tallest? And the Tallest were very powerful. Was the professor very powerful as well? He had to be. He was so brilliant and widely respected.
"If you ever come near my son again, I will make you pay. Got it?" Zim trembled.
"Y-yes, Sir," he said. Professor Membrane looked him close in the eye.
"Do you have any idea," Professor Membrane said, putting his fingers on his temples "WHAT KIND OF CONDITION HE'S IN?" He leaped towards Zim. Zim backed away, afraid.
"Y-yes—"
"NO. YOU. DON'T!" He flipped over a coffee table.
"HE COULD'VE HAD SOMETHING! HE COULD'VE GROWN UP AND HAD SOMETHING! BUT YOU TOOK IT AWAY FROM HIM!" He threw it at Zim. Zim ducked, and it flew over his head, hitting the wall and smashing into several splintery pieces.
"NOW, HE'S STUCK IN MY LAB VOMITING IN THE SINK BECAUSE THE ONLY THING THAT SEPARATES HIM FROM SANE AND INSANE IS MAKING HIM SICK!" He ripped off the monkey picture and threw it into the kitchen. The picture, too, broke. Gir screamed and ran around in fear. The professor panted, wheezing and coughing.
"He could've been the greatest paranormal investigator ever—" and then, he stopped. He stared at Zim, causing tension in the room.
"Zim, come here," he said softly. Afraid of what would happen if he didn't obey the professor's orders, Zim cautiously approached him.
Then, the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened.
The professor reached his hand out and grabbed the top of Zim's wig.
He pulled it off.
He then proceeded to stick his finger in Zim's eyes and take the contacts out. Zim stood, paralyzed in fear.
"Checkmate," the professor said.
"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."
-Albert Einstein