Disclaimer: For the last time, I own none of the cartoon characters, or A Christmas Carol.

This is the last chapter, so enjoy!

Stave 5

The End of It

Zim stared at the bedpost in dumbfounded shock.

"I'm home…" Slowly his eyes widened with realization. "I'm alive…" Slowly, his mouth turned upwards—not in a sinister smirk, but a joyful, wonderful smile. "I'm alive!" He jumped in wild ecstasy. "I'M ALIVE!!!! YESSSS!!! VICTORY FOR ZIM!!!!!!"

Yes and the bedpost was his own! The bed was his own, the room was his own! Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in!

"I WILL live my life in the Past, the Present and the Future!!" Zim shouted, repeating his words to the Spirit. "All three Spirits shall dwell within me! Oh Brain, Heaven and Christmas Time be praised for this! I say it on my knees Brain, on my knees!"

So happy and joyful was he that he could scarcely stop himself from shouting, even if he wanted to. He had been sobbing violently in his confrontation with the Spirit, and his face was wet with tears. Being wet, they burned and singed his skin, but so happy was he that he laughed at it.

"The curtains!!! They're here, rings and all!! They're here, and Zim is here, and all is here, here, here!!! The shadows of the Future may yet be dispelled—no, they WILL be dispelled!! Zim shall unleash kindness the likes of which the world has never seen!!! All will bow before my kindness!!" Realizing what he was saying, he burst into laughter; at this point, he felt that his squeedly-spooch would explode with joy.

"What shall I do?! I'm as light as a feather! As happy as an angel! As merry as a schoolboy! As giddy as a drunken man! MERRY CHRISTMAS EARTH!! MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL!!!" Shrieking and laughing, he dashed around his house with a speed the likes of which he had never known.

"Look, look!! The saucepan of Zim's gruel! And there—the door by which the Brain's Ghost entered!! The corner where the Ghost of Christmas Present sat and held his gun up to my throat! The window where I saw all the spirits! IT ALL HAPPENED!! IT"S ALL TRUE!! ALL TRUE I SAY!! HA HA HA HA!!"

Really, for a person who had been out of practice in good laughter for so many years, it was a splendid laugh. The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs.

"Ha ha…hm, I don't even know what day it is or long I've been among the Spirits—why Zim knows nothing! Quite a smeet I am!" He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer; ding, dong, bell! Bell, dong, ding; hammer, clang, clash! Oh, glorious, glorious! *

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping for the blood to dance to; Golden sunlight; Heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious! *

"You, boy!" shouted Zim from the window, to a boy he recognized as the same boy that had tried to sing at his office door. Upon seeing him, the large-toothed pink-hatted boy dashed off. "No, no, come back!"

"Why?" asked the boy, stopping. "So you can singe me with your gnomes again?!"

"No, no, I merely require to know something! What is today?"

The boy cocked his head in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"WHAT IS TODAY?"

"It's Christmas Day! Obviously!"

"YES!!" Zim shouted. "I haven't missed it!! The Spirits did it all in one night!! And why not?!! If they can save ZIM, then they can do anything they want!!" The boy raised his eyebrows at the resident miser laughing and dancing like a mad man at this news and bursting forth nonsense found in an asylum.

"Boy, Zim requires something else! Do you know the Poultry shop in the next street at the corner?"

"Well…yeah, I do."

"Good, good! Just what I would expect from such an intelligent boy!" At this, the boy smiled and blushed. "Do you know if they have sold the prize turkey hanging in the window?"

"The one as big as me?"

"Yes, yes, what a wonderful child! Zim is delighted to be talking to you!"

"Heh heh…well it's still there."

"Excellent! Go buy it!"

The boy's smile disappeared. "Oh, ha, ha. Nice punch line. See ya later…"

"ZIM DOES NOT JOKE!!!" Such a shout was certainly enough to make the boy stop. "Listen, buy the turkey and the shop owner, and come back here, and Zim will give you a shilling—no, what am I saying? Come back here in less than five minutes, and Zim will give you half a crown!!"

The boy's eyes widened. "H-h-half a crown?" Suddenly returning to his senses, he shouted, "YES SIR!" and ran off like a shot.

"Zim will send it to Runt's house," Zim whispered, rubbing his hands and laughing. "Ah, but they won't know who sent it—what a surprise I will give! It's twice the size of Pussyfoot!"

The hand that wrote the address was not a steady one, but he wrote it somehow and went downstairs to open his street door, ready for the arrival of the poultry man. As he stood there waiting, his Irken eyes fell upon his knocker.

"I will love and cherish it forever!" he declared. "How could I have merely brushed it off before? Such an honest expression it has, a wonderful knocker—ah, the Turkey!" And what a Turkey it was; its legs would have snapped before it stood up upon them.

"But you can't carry that to Camden Town! You must have a cab! Allow me."

The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid for the Turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which he sat down breathless in his chair again, and chuckled till he cried. *

Routine PAK maintenance was not an easy task, for his hand shook very much and such machinery requires attention. I think, however, if he had caused a short circuit and burnt himself to a crisp, he would have laughed and been quite satisfied.

He dressed himself in his best and dashed out into the streets, the people by this time pouring forth, as he had seen with the Ghost of Christmas Present. With a delighted smile on his alien face, Zim greeted each one, and he looked so pleasant that three or four good-humored people said, "Good morning. Merry Christmas!" And Zim said afterwards, that of all the sounds he had ever heard, those were the most delightful.

He hadn't gone far, when who should he spot but Jessie James and Meowth, the three who had walked into his counting house. It was not pleasant to think of how they might receive him, but he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it.

"Greetings, greetings!" he said, quickening his pace and taking all three by the hands. "I hope you succeeded in your task—it was most kind!"

The three looked at each other in confusion, and Jessie, with a slight scowl on her face inquired, "Mr. Zim…right?"

"Yesss, yesss, I am ZIM! And my business with you is not yet finished! For you and your cause, put me down for…" and he signaled the two humans to kneel, before whispering in their ears. As he did so, their eyes widened.

"T-that much?" James sputtered.

"Yes and no less! A great many back payments are included, I assure you."

Jessie stared at him, her scowl entirely gone. "I-I don't know what to say, Mr. Zim…"

"Say nothing, but that you will come by my office every Christmas! I intend to do the same every year!"

Mewoth smiled in wondrous delight. "W-we will! Thanks Mister Zim, and Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas and thank you, fifty fold! I must be on my way now!" As he dashed off, the three grinned at each other.

"You know what this means," said Jessie.

"We've hit our quota for the first time!" replied James.

"We've finally succeeded! We ain't screw-up's anymore!" finished Mewoth. And as the three skipped off in joy, they declared at once:

"Team Rocket's got a happy ending!"

"Wobbuffet!"

Meanwhile, Zim went to church, and walked about the streets, watching people hurry to and fro, patting children on the head, questioning beggars—everywhere he looked, he derived pleasure from. Never had he dreamed that any walk—that anything—could give him such happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his walk towards his nephew's house.

Passing the door a dozen times before he had the courage to knock, he finally did so, and thus answered an Irken maid.

"Is your master at home?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where is he?"

"In the dining room sir, along with the mistress. Shall I show you up stairs?"

"No, that's all right, he knows me," he replied, his hand already on the dining room lock. "May I?"

The maid nodded, and Zim, turning it gently, sidled his face in around the door.

"Skoodge!"

All the merriment and laughter stopped, and all eyes turned towards him. Skoodge's eyes widened in disbelief. "Uncle?"

"Y-yes, it is Zim. Would you let me in?"

Let him! It was a wonder he didn't shake his arm off! He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Marvin when he came. So did the plump maid. So did every one when they came. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!

But he was early at the office next morning—oh yesss, he was early! Being there first and finding Runt late would make his performance all the easier.

And it happened just as he had planned. The clock struck nine, no Runt. A quarter past, no Runt. When he finally entered, he was eighteen minutes and a half late. His hat was off before he opened the door, and he dashed to his stool and his pen, as though he was trying to overtake nine o'clock.

"Well," sneered Zim, in the closest imitation of his old voice he could attain, "I see you've deemed punctuality unnecessary.

"I'm sorry Mister Zim, definitely sorry! I was makin' merry yesterday, definitely merry. It won't happen again, defin—"

"Enough," said Zim, and Runt stopped. "Now, Runt clerk-drone, Zim has had as much of this as he can take!"

Runt gulped. "Y-you have?"

"Yes. And therefore," he went straight up to the dog's face, "I am about to triple your salary!"

Runt flinched—and then double-taked. "Wh-wha?" And Zim burst out laughing, and Runt had a momentary impulse of knocking Zim out with his ruler and calling for the men in the white coats.

"Merry Christmas Runt! A Merrier Christmas than Zim has given you in all these years! I'll raise your salary and aid your family! As I understand it, you are struggling, particularly with the matter of your youngest boy?"

Runt gaped. "But…how d'ya…"

"Zim knows all, Runt-worm! I know some very good doctors—the best this planet has to offer, and I am positive that they can help him!"

Runt stared at him in shock—and then, in gratitude, as joyful tears began to trickle downward. "M-Mister Zim—thank you! Definitely, definitely thank you!"

"It's the least I can do! We shall discuss the details this afternoon over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop! But first, buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Runt!"

And Zim was better than his word. He did it all and infinity more; and to Pussyfooot, who did NOT die, he became a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city, or any other city, knew. Some laughed at him for his alteration, but he payed them little mind—for he knew that people like that were blind to their own fate, and might as well possess the malady in a more attractive form. His own heart laughed, and that was enough.

He had no more encounters with Spirits, but he lived his life upon the lessons they taught him, and it was often said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas alive, if any man, talking animal or alien possessed the knowledge. May that truly be said of us and all of us! And so, as Pussyfoot observed, GOD BLESS US, EVERYONE!

And that's the end of my story! I'd just like to thank all those who reviewed this story, especially Zim's Most Loyal Servant, who offered praise and kind words throughout all the chapters. This was a lot of fun, and I hope to do more stories soon.