disclaimer : Zim and his stinky human friends were not created by me, nor are they owned by me. Instead, they are quite abused by me. No profit is being made from this piece of fiction.
warning! : This is SLASH. If you don't like it, then don't read it. I'd think that'd be rather obvious but apparently some people don't understand this simple concept. When you KNOW you're not going to like something, why bother reading it at all?
My apologizes to Mr. Vasquez, since Zim/Dib fiction apparently makes him ill. However, the thought that I can make the man who created the 'A Drive Home From Somewhere' strip in Squee! sick to his stomach greatly appeals to me.
---
Zim knew he was sick. He simply wasn't sure what vile earth germ had infected him THIS time. The computer had run every test possible, but he'd come up with a clean bill of health. He figured, however, that Gir had probably done something to the computer earlier, something that he hadn't noticed yet, and _that_ was why it didn't detect anything.
"Stupid robot...." he groaned as he laid on the couch, red eyes staring unfocused up at the ceiling.
"You called, Master?" Gir's head poked out from around the corner in the kitchen. Zim noticed with some alarm, but no surprise, that a thin trail of smoke was drifting up in the air behind Gir.
"Well, no, but... where on Irk is that smoke coming from?"
"I'm makin' me some BACON!" Gir exclaimed happily and he vanished back into the kitchen. Zim stared and just hoped that the SIR unit wouldn't light the house on fire - again. The various base repairs he had to do at _least_ once every three days were starting to seriously annoy him.
Zim sighed, pushing the memories of his various burns and bruises from cleaning up Gir's messes out of his mind. In retrospect, Zim realized, this wasn't one of his grander and more wonderful ideas, since his head was suddenly filled with visions of his illness again.
"AAARGH!"
"I WANT A LEMUR!"
Zim ignored Gir's idiotic yell from the other room and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the visions to go away. He was an Invader! He was ZIM! He was... having serious difficulty getting disturbing images of Dib out of his mind!
"What iiis this? This... This MADNESS! Urgh, I don't feel so good," he said groggily, sitting up and rubbing his head. He just didn't understand this! These... visions! And Dib, all of Dib! But not his usual Dib-thoughts, nooo. Not his pleasant little daydreams of the filthy human turned inside out or being torn apart by pinching metallic arms. Nooo. These were thoughts of a Dib who looked like he was in pain - but wasn't. Panting and sweating. Icky human things like that.
However, none of this disturbed Zim. What disturbed him was the fact that he WASN'T disturbed. He was... something else. Something... warm and squishy. Like Gir's microwavable burritos.
Gir... The little robot hadn't made so much as a peep while Zim was thinking. That was worrying. Zim opened his eyes, looking towards the kitchen, and was relived to see that the smoke trail was gone. "Gir?"
"Yeees?"
Zim blinked and looked up towards the sound. "Gir - GIR! Get OFF the ceiling, Gir! That's an ORDER!!"
Gir seemed to be tap dancing quite happily on the ceiling, though at Zim's command, his eyes flashed red and he snapped a sharp, "Yessir!" Zim waited patiently for his idiotic robot to get off of the ceiling - what he did not expect, however, was for Gir to fall off of the ceiling and onto his head.
"AAAGH! OW! GIR, STOP! NO! NO DANCING ON MY HEAD!"
"COFFEE COFFEE COFFEEEEEEEE!"
"I curse you, cocoa bean!!"
After a few moments of colourful Irken curses and much waving of limbs, Gir finally toppled off of Zim's head, landing face down on the floor with a dull clanging sound. He lay there motionless as Zim felt his own head, trying to make sure it wasn't bruised or bleeding in any spots. "Gir! What has gotten into you?!"
There was another moment of silence before the muffled reply came. "I'm coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs."
Zim made a disgusted noise and straightened himself up in the most dignified way he could manage. He'd grown a few inches in the past six years he'd been spying here on Earth; he only came up to Dib's shoulders, but that was hardly important. Size only mattered if you were another _Irken_. Humans grew taller with age; everyone knew that Irkens grew taller with _skill_. A few inches in only six measly years....! Truly, this mission the Tallest had given him was doing him wonders, physically. That was probably part of why they'd given it to HIM. They knew that he needed to be taller for them to properly promote him through the ranks! He wondered briefly if either of the Tallest had come here earlier as scouts, when they weren't yet the Tallest, before his thought train was interrupted by Gir doing a vacuum cleaner impression.
"Gir!"
Gir paused and looked up at Zim, his mouth full of carpet. "Yahh Mahsah?"
One of Zim's eyes twitched. "Drop the carpet."
Gir gave a muffled 'awww' before releasing the carpet, sitting down in the exact same spot that his mouth had been. "Heehee! Damp!"
"Concentrate, Gir!" Zim snapped, reflecting that he should record himself saying that sometime. It'd be easier than reminding the robot to do so every time they spoke. "We are going to need to do some extra research. I'm afraid I've fallen ill to some sort of new human germie thingie, but the computer doesn't recognize it. So! I will go to one of the human research stations here, and you will stay at home to try and update the computer. Do you understand?"
"I like sunflowers."
" .... uh-huh," Zim said before sighing again in defeat. He knew it was useless asking Gir to do anything, but these visions were going to drive him to be physically ill - even more so - if something was not done quickly.
"Awww," Gir said, head tilting to the side, "Is Master sick?"
Zim's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Your brilliance amazes me sometimes, Gir."
"Yaaay! I'm brilliantly shiny!"
Zim slapped a hand to his forehead. "Just... geh. Gir... My sickness. It's got something to do with that Dib human. He makes my thumpity-bangalar go all... quick... like. Do you think that's a normal reaction to being close to one of these filthy human creatures? It never happened before though, until last week...."
"I can belly dance!"
"You don't HAVE a belly!"
Zim grimaced as tears suddenly welled up in Gir's eyes. "Look, just.... Oh, never mind. Isn't your monkey show on?"
Gir gasped, eyes going even larger than usual. "MONKEYYY!!" And with a primal scream, he cartwheeled over to the television set, clicking it on. Zim shuddered as the screen was filled with the face of that disturbing growling monkey. Really, it wasn't difficult to see how the human race evolved from them. Putting on his disguise, Zim was glad that he was going to be out of the house for a while; Gir's dancing and that monkey's growling were things he did NOT need while he was already feeling ill in his guts.
"I'm leaving now, Gir! Try to actually guard the house!"
"Yessir!" Gir's eyes flashed red briefly before his attention was stolen again almost immediately by the TV. "Monkeyyy...."
Zim sighed and headed outside towards the closest human research station. At least there he'd have some peace and quiet for a bit.
warning! : This is SLASH. If you don't like it, then don't read it. I'd think that'd be rather obvious but apparently some people don't understand this simple concept. When you KNOW you're not going to like something, why bother reading it at all?
My apologizes to Mr. Vasquez, since Zim/Dib fiction apparently makes him ill. However, the thought that I can make the man who created the 'A Drive Home From Somewhere' strip in Squee! sick to his stomach greatly appeals to me.
---
Zim knew he was sick. He simply wasn't sure what vile earth germ had infected him THIS time. The computer had run every test possible, but he'd come up with a clean bill of health. He figured, however, that Gir had probably done something to the computer earlier, something that he hadn't noticed yet, and _that_ was why it didn't detect anything.
"Stupid robot...." he groaned as he laid on the couch, red eyes staring unfocused up at the ceiling.
"You called, Master?" Gir's head poked out from around the corner in the kitchen. Zim noticed with some alarm, but no surprise, that a thin trail of smoke was drifting up in the air behind Gir.
"Well, no, but... where on Irk is that smoke coming from?"
"I'm makin' me some BACON!" Gir exclaimed happily and he vanished back into the kitchen. Zim stared and just hoped that the SIR unit wouldn't light the house on fire - again. The various base repairs he had to do at _least_ once every three days were starting to seriously annoy him.
Zim sighed, pushing the memories of his various burns and bruises from cleaning up Gir's messes out of his mind. In retrospect, Zim realized, this wasn't one of his grander and more wonderful ideas, since his head was suddenly filled with visions of his illness again.
"AAARGH!"
"I WANT A LEMUR!"
Zim ignored Gir's idiotic yell from the other room and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the visions to go away. He was an Invader! He was ZIM! He was... having serious difficulty getting disturbing images of Dib out of his mind!
"What iiis this? This... This MADNESS! Urgh, I don't feel so good," he said groggily, sitting up and rubbing his head. He just didn't understand this! These... visions! And Dib, all of Dib! But not his usual Dib-thoughts, nooo. Not his pleasant little daydreams of the filthy human turned inside out or being torn apart by pinching metallic arms. Nooo. These were thoughts of a Dib who looked like he was in pain - but wasn't. Panting and sweating. Icky human things like that.
However, none of this disturbed Zim. What disturbed him was the fact that he WASN'T disturbed. He was... something else. Something... warm and squishy. Like Gir's microwavable burritos.
Gir... The little robot hadn't made so much as a peep while Zim was thinking. That was worrying. Zim opened his eyes, looking towards the kitchen, and was relived to see that the smoke trail was gone. "Gir?"
"Yeees?"
Zim blinked and looked up towards the sound. "Gir - GIR! Get OFF the ceiling, Gir! That's an ORDER!!"
Gir seemed to be tap dancing quite happily on the ceiling, though at Zim's command, his eyes flashed red and he snapped a sharp, "Yessir!" Zim waited patiently for his idiotic robot to get off of the ceiling - what he did not expect, however, was for Gir to fall off of the ceiling and onto his head.
"AAAGH! OW! GIR, STOP! NO! NO DANCING ON MY HEAD!"
"COFFEE COFFEE COFFEEEEEEEE!"
"I curse you, cocoa bean!!"
After a few moments of colourful Irken curses and much waving of limbs, Gir finally toppled off of Zim's head, landing face down on the floor with a dull clanging sound. He lay there motionless as Zim felt his own head, trying to make sure it wasn't bruised or bleeding in any spots. "Gir! What has gotten into you?!"
There was another moment of silence before the muffled reply came. "I'm coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs."
Zim made a disgusted noise and straightened himself up in the most dignified way he could manage. He'd grown a few inches in the past six years he'd been spying here on Earth; he only came up to Dib's shoulders, but that was hardly important. Size only mattered if you were another _Irken_. Humans grew taller with age; everyone knew that Irkens grew taller with _skill_. A few inches in only six measly years....! Truly, this mission the Tallest had given him was doing him wonders, physically. That was probably part of why they'd given it to HIM. They knew that he needed to be taller for them to properly promote him through the ranks! He wondered briefly if either of the Tallest had come here earlier as scouts, when they weren't yet the Tallest, before his thought train was interrupted by Gir doing a vacuum cleaner impression.
"Gir!"
Gir paused and looked up at Zim, his mouth full of carpet. "Yahh Mahsah?"
One of Zim's eyes twitched. "Drop the carpet."
Gir gave a muffled 'awww' before releasing the carpet, sitting down in the exact same spot that his mouth had been. "Heehee! Damp!"
"Concentrate, Gir!" Zim snapped, reflecting that he should record himself saying that sometime. It'd be easier than reminding the robot to do so every time they spoke. "We are going to need to do some extra research. I'm afraid I've fallen ill to some sort of new human germie thingie, but the computer doesn't recognize it. So! I will go to one of the human research stations here, and you will stay at home to try and update the computer. Do you understand?"
"I like sunflowers."
" .... uh-huh," Zim said before sighing again in defeat. He knew it was useless asking Gir to do anything, but these visions were going to drive him to be physically ill - even more so - if something was not done quickly.
"Awww," Gir said, head tilting to the side, "Is Master sick?"
Zim's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Your brilliance amazes me sometimes, Gir."
"Yaaay! I'm brilliantly shiny!"
Zim slapped a hand to his forehead. "Just... geh. Gir... My sickness. It's got something to do with that Dib human. He makes my thumpity-bangalar go all... quick... like. Do you think that's a normal reaction to being close to one of these filthy human creatures? It never happened before though, until last week...."
"I can belly dance!"
"You don't HAVE a belly!"
Zim grimaced as tears suddenly welled up in Gir's eyes. "Look, just.... Oh, never mind. Isn't your monkey show on?"
Gir gasped, eyes going even larger than usual. "MONKEYYY!!" And with a primal scream, he cartwheeled over to the television set, clicking it on. Zim shuddered as the screen was filled with the face of that disturbing growling monkey. Really, it wasn't difficult to see how the human race evolved from them. Putting on his disguise, Zim was glad that he was going to be out of the house for a while; Gir's dancing and that monkey's growling were things he did NOT need while he was already feeling ill in his guts.
"I'm leaving now, Gir! Try to actually guard the house!"
"Yessir!" Gir's eyes flashed red briefly before his attention was stolen again almost immediately by the TV. "Monkeyyy...."
Zim sighed and headed outside towards the closest human research station. At least there he'd have some peace and quiet for a bit.