Poem is by me, thank you very much…

Funny… I posted two one-shots today (Including this one)

One shows how important Dib is to Zim (Sort of…)

The other, not so much (Kinda…)

Oh well.

DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING, but the poem!

Here stands a man, so filled with grace

His smile is bright

His mind is sharp

His body is lean and young

Same man, years after, See how he lies

His teeth fell from his rotten gums

His brain is a feast for the maggots

His body is foul and decayed

See how no one remembers his name

Dib was always a lively child. He never stayed still for long, much to the annoyance of his father. What little pictures taken of him were blurry, and sister always had to act quickly to restrain Dib before he bolted off somewhere so she could remind him for the umpth time to not touch her cereal.

Teachers and doctors alike were convinced that he had some sort of attention disorder, despite his pristine grades and ability to memorize information at mass quantities. This was his nature.

Zim noticed this as well, although he never quite dwelled on it. When the mighty monologues were over with, his feet were forced to keep pace with this young Earth child.

Dib was a curious child.

But no longer.

Once filled with life, strong morals, and fight was now nothing more a pale corpse. A single stab to the chest was what did it, as accidental as it might have been. Zim only meant to corner the human, not impale him. But their fighting grounds were not as spacious as usual, not as bright as they were used to. This particular area of the underground lab was cramped and dark. It was to be used as storage room, not as a fight arena.

Death took Dib, in the clumsiest of ways. No final says, no killing intent, just a pathetic misstep which led to confusion; than realization.

Zim had killed Dib, quickly and without his beloved dramatics.

And as upsetting as this unfortunate turn of events was, Zim shed no tears over his fallen foe. Dib was the enemy. He was to die, one way or another. In the end, Zim would be perfectly fine with this, and moved on with his precious mission. The death wasn't tragic, but rather humorous and ironic.

But for the moment, Zim was left with the dead body. It's such a strange thing, to see Dib screaming threats one moment, and suddenly laying still the next. It was fascinating. Death was fascinating; so difficult to achieve and yet so unavoidable.

Zim kneels down, besides the body. He does this after franticly disinfecting his bloodied spider leg and trying to figure out why Dib didn't at the very least scream. All he heard was a sharp gasp and the heavy thump of a body hitting the floor.

Dib was still. He didn't move, and his eyes were wide with frozen shock. Undoubtedly, he didn't even realize he was in the process of dying until after. He was still, and unchanged save for the gaping hole in his chest.

Zim reached out in morbid interest, to touch the humans' hair. He did not stroke it, but roughly pulled at hit. It was interesting to him, how such flimsy stings could hold such stupid pose without the aid of "Hair Gel"

His fingers went to the ears, which were kept clean. Zim frowned at them. As interesting as the strange ripples of skin were, they could not serve their purpose well. Zim was unable to count the number of times he had to repeat himself to the human, to remind him how powerless he was to the Irken race. How many times did he have to explain himself to Dib, about how his technology was primitive, or how things were run in space? No. Ears were useless.

Zim moved on to the eyes. The eyes, as defective as Dibs' were, were charming in a way. He liked the large Varity in colors, green, blue, brown, and sometimes red. He liked Dibs' eyes, because they were such an interesting color of brown. They were lighter than simply brown, they were more like honey. They lit up when he was angry and they darkened when he was defeated. The humans say when you died; a certain light fades from the eyes. Zim stares closely, but sees no evidence of this. The pupils were oddly dilated, but other than that, they looked just as they did a few minutes ago.

The nose was small, the mouth was slightly open, none of which interested Zim. He moved to the neck, and poked at the soft flesh. This was such a weak point, why didn't the humans do more to protect it? They break easily, and a good punch could permanently destroy the delicate muscles.

Now it was the shirt, now drenched with blood. The grey looked much darker now, and Zim couldn't see the odd design anymore. The shirt was torn, stained, and useless. Zim grasped at the black coat, and was suddenly disgusted at its' horrible ability to defend the wearer. Dib should have been wearing protection, but never did more than this simple outfit. It was almost insulting.

Zim stared at the killing wound, but decided to not look. He has seen enough organs to last a life time, anymore was simply madding.

He slipped a finger into the pants pocket. Empty. It was the same on the other side. Zim knew the human had a camera, but that was dropped somewhere in the halls. He saw it shatter. Dib was otherwise unarmed. This was again, insulting to Zim.

The hands, Zim wanted to see those next. He picked one up, surprised at how heavy it was. The hand was cold, and pale. The nails seemed to be worn down by the biting of teeth. Zim chuckled in amusement of this. Dib bites his nails. Humans do this strange thing when they were nervous or bored. Zim knew Dib couldn't have been bored, not when there was an alien taking over the planet.

He was content with that; he had no wish to probe any further. Dib was dead and his body wasn't very interesting. He carried no wallet, no photos, and no stupid coins that had inscriptions of religious text.

Dib was human, he was a naïve boy, and he was once the only one that opposed Zim. But no longer.

Dib was nothing more than a corpse now.