I was suddenly struck by the idea of doing something for the holiday, and while I had no idea planned, I managed to throw this together in a couple of hours. I hope it's not too rough; I think it's pretty good, considering I usually plan my stories for a long time in advance.

And for those who are interested, my story "Dib in the PITS" will update really soon, as will "Endorsements of the Doomed." And then at some point I'll stop writing so much fanfiction and go get a life. :-) Anyway, Happy Independence Day to all my fellow American readers!

The Fourth of July. Independence Day. A midsummer holiday about barbecues, beaches and things going boom.

It never really registered much with me before as a major holiday, maybe because I didn't particularly like any of those things--I wasn't social enough for big backyard parties, I sunburned easily, and while I did have a tendency to make things explode a lot when I touched them, it was usually by accident and generally involved lots of pain for me. It was in the middle of summer, so it wasn't even like it was a free day off from skool, either. It always struck me as one of those smaller holidays that you never really remembered, like Valentine's Day or Father's Day, not a big one like Christmas or Thanksgiving or Isaac Asimov's birthday.

This year, though, the Fourth of July was just bumming me out.

I walked home, my head down, kicking a can down the street, wondering what it was that had me so depressed that day. All in all things were going pretty well--it wasn't too hot, so I could actually go around in my usual dark trench coat without fainting; Dad was actually leaving work early tonight, so he would be home; and he was taking Gaz and I to the big event down at the park with the fireworks, so we could have a little picnic as a family, which would be just nice enough to not be too sappy. (If things ever got too sappy, Gaz would punch me to lighten the mood.) There was no particular reason for me to be sad. But for some reason I felt mopey, unsettled, upset.

Why?

I stopped walking suddenly, instinctively, looking up to stare at the house in front of me.

There was the reason.

Zim.

Or actually Zim's pet. The weird green dog--really a robot in disguise--was sitting on the lawn, playing with a string of firecrackers, apparently oblivious to my presence. He seemed to be trying to light them with a magnifying glass, but with little success. Finally he managed. A beam of light fell from the glass onto the fuse, and a moment later a spark appeared. It traveled up the fuse and then...

BOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM--

"YAAAY!" the robo-dog shouted over the noise, clapping his completely unrealistic paws together in glee. "EXPLODIES!"

"GIR!"

The robot jumped. So did I. Zim had appeared at the front door, wearing his human disguise, which was even less convincing than the dog's, glaring down at him.

"Yeah?"

"We have work to do. Quit wasting time with those stupid, primitive weapons and get inside. And what are you doing here?" he demanded, turning around suddenly to glare at me too.

I glared back. "Nothing," I said--probably, I realized, the first time I had ever answered that question truthfully when in this situation. "I'm using the sidewalk. There's no crime against that."

"No. Not yet," he sneered, narrowing his eyes at me. Then he switched into his overly-dramatic mode. "But when this world is mine, then we shall see! You and your...side-walking days will be over then! I AM ZIM!" he added hysterically, artificial eyes bulging in their sockets.

I glared harder with what I hoped to be a withering look. Zim turned back to his dog. "Now come inside, GIR. We have more work to do on the plasma reactor."

The little robot sighed. "Okay," he said sadly, standing up mopily. He waved sadly at the firecrackers, which had long since stopped their noise. "Bye-bye, 'splodies."

And the two vanished inside the house. I remained behind, glaring after them.

Zim. That was why I was so depressed, I realized. All my problems eventually found their way back to him. How could I enjoy the holiday when I knew he was there, he and his robot dog and the little moose and who knew how many other weird little inventions of his, plotting to overthrow humanity and take over this world? The Fourth of July wasn't about beaches or barbecues or fireworks, I thought suddenly; it was supposed to be about freedom, liberty, the right to assume "the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle" us, as the Declaration of Independence put it. How could I enjoy Independence Day when I knew he was there, right there in that house in front of me, plotting to take away all that independence and turn the human race into a race of slaves?

"But I'm not going to let that happen," I muttered, glaring harder at the walls as if I could somehow stop Zim's plans if I only stared at them hard enough. "You're not going to take over the world, Zim. I'll never let you."

Of course, I didn't really know how to stop him from doing so.

I sighed, turned sullenly and walked back down the sidewalk, recovering the can to kick on my way home. How could I stop Zim? I had been trying for months--almost a year now, I realized, yes, it would be a year a little after skool started again--and I had failed completely. And there was no one else to help me, no one else to fight. How could I feel good about this Independence Day when I knew the chances were so high that next year, July Fourth would be Irken Victory Over Humanity Day instead? How could I celebrate freedom knowing that slavery was so near every single day?

Well, okay, I reasoned, maybe all that wasn't completely true--I had managed to stop Zim. Granted I had never captured him, never found a way to truly expose him, kill him, or turn him in to the FBI--but I had managed to stop him, to foil his plans whenever they had any chance of succeeding, discovered them before he could put them into effect for humanity's doom. And, if one looked at it a different way, Zim had been here for almost a year, and had yet to take over the planet, despite his many attempts. I wasn't winning, but I was holding my own, more or less. That was something, right?

I suddenly felt a rush of hope, a kind of buoyant feeling in my chest, as a revelation occurred to me. America, I knew, had seemed almost doomed when it tried to gain freedom; and at first it kept losing the battles, I remembered that from History class. Same thing in the Civil War, and in lots of other wars too. Those people didn't give up. They kept fighting. They held their own until finally the bad guy had to give in. Because they weren't enslaved yet. They could fight. That, I saw suddenly, was what real freedom was--the freedom to fight. The ability to see good and do it, to see evil and stop it. That was the only freedom people ever really had.

"And that's what I'll do," I muttered, reaching the end of the block and curling my hand into a fist. "I won't give up until Zim is defeated. Because as long as one person keeps fighting, a little bit of Earth will still be free. He can never really conquer us as long as we fight."

I smiled. Freedom. Independence. That was what this day was really about.

"EX-PLODE-EES!"

"What? GIR, NO!"

BOOM!

"Agh!"

I spun around; a series of blasts suddenly rocked Zim's base, a huge hole appearing in the roof and the building burst into flames. Zim came running out, screaming, his clothes and wig on fire. The robot dog came out too, his suit also in flames, but he didn't seem to care; he was cheering wildly, dancing around before the burning house as Zim rolled around on the ground, crying out in pain and trying to extinguish himself.

I grinned and turned the corner, forgetting the can and thinking I would get back to the house to get ready before Dad came home to take us out.

Freedom and independence were what this day was really about. But explodies, I thought, hearing Zim's cries die out in the distance, were a good way to celebrate the holiday too.