PRE-FANFIC LEGAL HULLABALOO:
The usual, really. Though the plot concepts in this fic are mostly mine, I make no claim that I own any of the characters of Invader Zim. That honor instead belongs to Nickelodeon, or more specifically, Jhonen Vasquez and his Groovy Supa-Fly HepCat Posse (TM)-- that is, the Zim staff/crew. Thanks in advance to all the people involved with this show (except Jhonen, who is widely believed to be a cyborg monkey-- but, hey, highest kudos to him for thinking all these great characters up!) for not suing me, should they happen to read this.
One final word of warning: if at any time the room in which you're reading this should happen to decompress, this fanfic has been equipped with automatic-release oxygen masks. These state-of-the-art devices are programmed to pop out of your computer screen in just such an occasion. (Of course, since the masks are basically only binary code, they won't be of any use when trying to breathe-- but you can feel appreciated, knowing that someone cared enough to try to save you from your impending, asphyxiated death.)
Anyhoo, enough blather from me. ON WITH THE LAFFS!!
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Strangers in an Even Stranger Land
by Apricot the Gerbil
It was a day much like any other at the bizarre, neon- colored house down the street. The legless man across the way was out sunning himself... The surrounding families were going about their usual business, oblivious to the humming clumps of wires poking here and there through their walls... and, out in the house's front yard, right next to the innocently-placed "I Luv Earth" sign, G.I.R. was hard at work.
The dog-suited little robot was currently staring straight ahead, displaying concentration that nobody would have thought possible for its gumball brain. Its doggie limbs limp at its sides, G.I.R. kept staring. And staring. And STARING... until even its ping-pong-ballish eyes began quivering from the strain.
Finally, as it let out an exhausted burst of air, G.I.R. collapsed, panting as it looked up at that which had defeated it. The lawn gnome stared on ahead, as it had been for the last half hour. "You win, Mister Scary-Beard-Lawn-Man..." G.I.R. sighed, getting up to dust its suit off. "Did you wanna try 'best four out of six'?"
The lawn gnome was silent, as it wasn't alive.
After waiting for a response for several minutes, G.I.R. shrugged, saying to the lawn ornament, "I'm gonna go inside. You can have a staring contest with Pig!" So saying, G.I.R. popped its rubber-piggy toy from its hollow head and placed it to face the lawn gnome.
"Let me know who wins!" G.I.R. told the inanimate pair, and squeaked its way up to the door, leaving the door open (as usual) after it hopped inside.
As Zim connected the last wire to his newest technological wonder, he paused and cringed. All of a sudden, he felt as if mass amounts of impending pain were about to begin....
"MAAAASTERRRR!!" came G.I.R.'s deliriously happy cry, as Zim's ineffectual servant-robot slammed into him. Zim growled in frustration, prying the green doggie suit's hugging paws away from his body as he said flatly, "Hello, GIR..." He sighed. One would think that a skilled Invader such as himself would've been able to predict such a frequent source of his own pain by now.
As soon as G.I.R. was finally shoved off of his master's arm, it saw the project its Master had been working on; its eyes glazed over as a thin stream of drool trickled from its gaping mouth...
Zim sighed heavily. "GIR, will you stop that? I've only made a few modifications to our television set!"
G.I.R. looked soulfully up at Zim with its cute puppy eyes, its ears perking up. "Do we have cable now?!" it chirped excitedly.
"GIR, don't be silly-- of course we don't have cable. What could be so important on TV shows, anyway? More cartoons for you to stare at for hours on end?" Zim huffed.
The robot simply twiddled its paws. "Maaaaaybe...."
Zim frowned, his face taking on tones of seriousness. "GIR, the only reason I've bothered to work on this filthy Earthenoid junk-box is so I can find out something that could be of vital importance to our mission! See for yourself..." So saying, the alien picked up the remote control for the TV set and pushed the ON button. The screen crackled to life, displaying-- what else?-- the infamous Monkey Show.
Zim shuddered at the sight of the disgusting simian, but G.I.R. clapped its paws together and squeaked towards the screen, gazing in rapt awe at this doubtlessly higher power.
Shaking his head wearily, Zim continued. "You see, GIR, what I have found about this... device..." he said, spitting out the last word, "is that you seem not to be alone in your reaction to the media it provides. I've noticed this happen many times to not only my so-called 'classmates', but also to the adults of the Earthenoid species! It would be fantastic to observe if it wasn't that I had to live among such vapid creatures. Just the touch of a remote's button and their eyes glaze over almost instantly!!
"Just think, GIR, if I could isolate what about this 'TeeVee' phenomenon causes the reactions it provokes!" Zim shouted, getting more exited with every thought of his own brilliance. "Felling this planet's human defenses would be as simple as..." A grin spread across the Invader's smug face as he closed his eyes and dramatically laid a finger on the TV remote's ON button.
His reverie was broken by G.I.R.'s fascinated squeal of "Ooh! Ooh! Master!! Did you see that?! The monkey scratched his nose!!" Zim turned to look; the robot had pressed its dog-costume's head directly up against the TV screen, cooing in delight.
Zim slapped his own forehead, dragging his fingers down his face to prevent him from possibly causing his robot grave bodily damage. He snapped at the drooling green puppy, "GIR!! Stop that and get over here this instant!"
"Oh, allllll riiiight..." G.I.R. drawled sadly, prying its face from the screen and squeaking slowly towards its Master.
"Okay, GIR... What I need you to do is to hold still for just one moment..." Zim explained, then shook his head and thought better of what he'd just said. "Erm-- I mean... wait here, GIR... I'll get your leash."
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One quick leashing later, G.I.R. sat passively in front of the TV screen-- theoretically an impossible feat, but managed nonetheless by Zim, seeing as how the robot was roped down to the couch with multiple lengths of the leash-cord, from its collar to the four corners of the couch.
"Now, what I'll need you to do is to keep watching what you see on the screen while I run some tests on how react to it. If my calculations are correct, this device I've installed in the television should isolate exactly what about the things you're seeing cause your thoughts to become so numbed." As Zim attached a few wired suction-cups to his robot's body to pick up data, he mentioned sarcastically, "Now, these should work even if you're wearing your suit... I take it you won't mind watching TV while I find out, will you?"
G.I.R. showed no signs of having registered what Zim had said; it had been quickly lulled silent by the blinking and occasional snarling noises of the Scary Monkey.
It also didn't seem to hear its Master run a portable scanner over its head, nor the frustrated growls Zim uttered as nothing appeared from his data-collecting wires. "Hmm... GIR, maybe I erred-- this doesn't seem to be getting data through your suit after all..." Zim told his silent robot, reaching for the zipper of G.I.R.'s doggie costume.
However, after several fruitless attempts to budge the Monkey-enraptured robot enough to move the zipper, Zim sighed and shook his head. "No... this isn't going to work," he mused to himself.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He snapped his pointy, gloved fingers sharply as he said to himself, "That's it... maybe the wiring shorted out... let's see," as he removed the suction cups from G.I.R.'s suit. He placed a couple on his own striped Irken uniform, with a couple more affixed to his head, should the need arise for a backup test. He turned to the screen and calmly switched the power for the data-devices back on...
***FZZZT!***
G.I.R. broke from its Monkey-induced trance at the shower of sparks that had just lit up next to it. The robot's huge dog-eyes blinked confusedly at the tangle of wires and suction-cups now strewn together on the floor where Zim had previously stood. It looked around for its Master, and when no Master could be seen, it began sniffling miserably, tiny tears welling up in its doggie eyes.
"Master left me here alllll alone!!" G.I.R. bawled, before stopping abruptly and blinking in thought. A smile appeared on the green dog's face once again as it giggled and squeaked out the front door of the little neon house, tunelessly singing to itself, "Now I can get to bring a friend to stay with me while Master's gone!!"
The robot never heard the screams for help whispering from inside the television set, as Zim could be seen recoiling in horror from the grime-encrusted Monkey he had just appeared next to...
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Dib quickly ducked his head back behind the fence around Zim's front yard as the odd-looking little dog hummed and skipped its way past him to the street, calling out randomly, "Come out, come out, wherever you aaaaaare, am-i-nal friiieeeends!!"
The pale, beglassed breathed a sigh of relief that the dog was obviously too involved in its singing to take notice of his presence. He clutched the portable camera in his hands all the tighter as he peered through the open gate to the yard... that was strange. The lawn gnomes that had once jolted to life and attacked him were eerily silent, even as he ever-so-slowly crept his way past them to Zim's open front door. Dib was sure he'd seen a flash of some kind inside Zim's living room... and this time, he was prepared to take on any danger he might face inside the lair of his-- nay, of Earth’s-- greatest threat to safety...
Dib was taken aback, however, that the inside of Zim's house seemed as deathly still as its outside. "It must be a trap... Zim's too nefarious to just leave his house wide open to... well, to people like me," the boy thought.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw the still-humming network of machinery that stood next to an oddly-designed TV set. He rubbed his eyes-- well, his glasses-- in disbelief as he took a closer look. "I don't believe it!! How could Zim get ahold of something like this?!" Dib gasped.
He was certain-- this gadget looked exactly like a picture straight out of the newest issue of "Paranoia Weekly"! He approached it slowly to get a closer look, too concerned with what was in front of him than of the infuriated shrieks and tiny pounding noise of Zim's fists against the inside of the TV screen.
After intensely studying the fiendish alien device, Dib finally convinced himself that, yes, this must have been the Electric Doom Generator he'd seen in one of his favorite Magazines of Truth... even though he'd been fairly sure that the machine pictured in the article looked slightly more cardboard-ish.
He was puzzled, though, when he noticed the pile of suction cups lying on the floor nearby. He couldn't remember reading about those being part of the Generator... he cautiously picked one of the wired parts up, examining it, before a booming cry of "Master! If you didn't leave, I'm HOOOOOME!" coming from outside the open door.
In a startled panic, Dib tripped on one of the wires in the pile, falling onto several of the cups on the floor. The machine hummed, and a spark could be seen once more....
***FZZZT!***
G.I.R. skipped through the front door, holding a rather confused little tan-furred rodent in its doggie-paws. "What was that, Gerbil?" the robot asked its newfound 'friend', who was presently trying to escape from G.I.R.'s metal grasp.
"Oh, well..." the puppy said, hopping onto the couch and setting the gerbil down next to it. "I'm just so happy that the nice lady at the pet shop let you come with me! She looked happy when I asked her-- she was screaming really loud, she must have been sooooo happy!!"
G.I.R. took no notice of the two new faces on the TV screen, but instead picked up the TV remote still on the couch cushion. "Oh, goodie-good!" the robot chirped. "We can watch TV together, Gerbil! It'll be really really, really fun! I wonder what's on...”
So saying, G.I.R. clicked the television to a different channel...
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***FZZZT!***
Dib looked around him, momentarily disoriented. He was no longer in his usual trenchcoated garb... but not a few seconds later, he realized who he was nevertheless-- perhaps by a well-placed plot convenience. He was Dibber-Man, the scourge of all evil that dared to jaywalk across the beloved Skool-City's streets!
He looked down at his web-patterned costume, noting the obligatory streamlined SuperHero (TM) muscles, and grinned. His blank, glasses-shaped eyeslits narrowed in glee-- NOBODY could stop a hero as powerful as he!
Suddenly, Dibber-Man felt a peculiar, wary sensation sparking throughout his being; his single hair-curl twitched as it swayed in the air. "Paranoia-Sense... TINGLING!!" Dibber-Man instinctively thought.
Unfortunately, his senses proved to be on the mark. The metal visage of his mortal enemy, Dr. Victor Von Zimm, was soon revealed by the dim light of a nearby streetlamp.
"So, Dibber-Man... we meet again..." Dr. Zimm's throaty voice boomed, chuckling smugly at his apparently-off-guard foe. His gargantuan cape flapped defiantly in the foggy breeze.
"That's what YOU think, Zimm! Nobody'll be meeting you AGAIN after I do THIS..." Dibber-Man snarled, his arm reaching for the raygun holster on his belt. As he savored the thought of Zimm's panicking face, he whipped his arms up to aim the deadly weapon right at Dr. Zimm...
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The robot and the gerbil had been staring at the screen for some time before G.I.R. finally yawned in boredom, saying, "I think I've seen this before... these kinda shows all look the same."
G.I.R. looked towards the gerbil, who was twitching its whiskers, and suddenly said, "That's a great idea, Gerbil! I'll let you pick what we can watch!" The robot whisked a tattered copy of "T.V. God" from under the couch-cushion, opened the magazine to a random page, and placed it upside-down before the puzzled gerbil, who sniffed at the Chocolate-Bubblegum-scented pages warily.
"Oh! You wanna see that movie?" G.I.R. asked the rodent.
The gerbil blinked at G.I.R. once, but said nothing, as it couldn't talk.
"Okay-- we watch the movie! Yayyyyy!!" the robot cheered, reaching for the remote control.
***FZZZT!***
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"Huh?!" Dib yelped, staring puzzledly at the ruler he held in his hand. Noticing a small piece of paper taped to the now-harmless "weapon", he read the writing scrawled on it, his face twisting farther in disbelief with every word:
"The executives in charge of this program regret to inform you that the weapon planned for this scene was judged inappropriate for this program's target age group. Please remember this for future scenes."
-=-Sincerely, the Management
"Gah! Stupid censors..." Dib grumbled, a scowl spreading across his face. He blinked in surprise as he looked up from the note to scan his surroundings. "Wait a second...," he murmured. "Background... less angular..." He raised a hand up to his face. "Feeling of marketability... growing..."
"Holy crullers-- that’s IT!" Dib shouted, his wavering voice bordering on terror. "I'm in a Disn..."
Zim's screams shook Dib away from his train of thought. The horrified alien was running towards Dib, flailing his arms in a panic as he shrieked, "THESE ANIMALS!! TOO CUUUUUTE!!!"
Indeed, there was a flock of lovable, doe-eyed critters of all types following close behind Zim, all of which exuded the tooth-rottingly cute aura that could only come from a Disney character.
Forgetting everything in his panic, Zim leaped into Dib's arms, shuddering as a particularly saccharine-voiced fawn giggled musically, asking, "Whut's the matter, silly-willy green boy?"
An equally terrified Dib tried his best to calm Zim (and doubtlessly himself as well) as he said with a shiver, "D-d-don't worry, Z-Zim... This place'll probably go away soon!!"
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G.I.R. bounced up and down on the couch, humming along with the cheerful background music from the TV. While the gerbil skittered around frantically to avoid being squashed by the dog-thing, G.I.R. stopped for a moment, then said, "Aww... you look angry, Gerbil. Maybe you've seen this movie before!"
As the robot punched a button on the remote, it told the fearfully-trembling rodent, "Just a minute. I'll see what else is on!"
***FZZZT!***
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Once the quick span of dizziness had passed, Dib and Zim blinked at each other; within seconds, both of them had jumped away from each other, sputtering spitefully while casting glares out of the sides of their eyes.
The two of them soon heard a cackling laugh from some nearby onlookers. "Whoa, look at the new kids, guys!" said one of the young boys. The other three continued laughing, though for some inexplicable reason, all four of these boys' voices sounded like they had come from only two people.
Dib eyed these new characters suspiciously, wondering why all four of them looked oddly like they had been formed from two-dimensional paper pieces. He looked at Zim, then himself-- yes, they both shared the four boys' disturbingly noseless, midgetesque features-- not that the effect was that different when looking at Zim, Dib thought.
"Hey, green kid! You don't come from around here, do you?" asked one of the boys, looking at Zim's persistent 'skin condition'.
"NO! No. Eh... heh heh... Don't be silly, small Earth boy. I'm not an alien of any kind! Honest!" Zim replied, feigning calmness.
"Um... Yeahhh..." one boy replied, looking as unconvinced as his simplified face could manage.
Another boy, his face obscured by his hooded jacket, commented, "Mmmphm am mum phahm!" before the four boys broke out into juvenile guffawing.
Zim's eyes popped wide in amazement. "That language... it could only be from..." He hopped back from the laughing quartet, reaching for a small gizmo in his pocket as he did so. Aiming the nondescript, neon-colored box at the behooded boy, he screamed in fervent Irken fury, "You fool! Thinking that your pathetic disguise could fool such a superior opponent such as I! Your time on this planet is over... EAT PHASER, VILE DENABRIAN SLIME-BEAST!!"
He pushed the lone button on the box, though the following laser blast was, for some reason, limited to the mystery of whatever happens off-screen. When the camera finally revealed the once-giggling group of boys once more, the remaining three were gaping in shock at the sizzling pile of dust where their friend had so recently stood.
"Oh my God! He killed Kenny!!" cried one boy, as if on cue.
With his hands clenched into angry fists, Dib stood glaring at Zim. He shouted at the gloating alien next to him, "YOU--"
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Back at Zim's house, G.I.R. finally smiled in realization, grinning at the nonresponsive rodent next to him on the couch, who was now dozing. "Hey, Gerbil! I know this show! Ooh! I know what happens now..."
The costumed robot paused a moment, then narrowed its eyes. "They say naughty words now. I dun' like naughty words." G.I.R. frowned, reaching for the remote control.
***FZZZT!***
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"--poopie-head!!" Dib finished, his rage suddenly diminished into an almost sing-songy voice. He paused, wide-eyed in puzzlement, before murmuring to himself, "Wait just one second... 'poopie-head'?! I haven't used that word since I was four years old! Where are we?!" He looked around, only to freeze in a panicked shock far beyond anything Disney could provoke.
"No......It can’t be......." Dib whispered to anyone who might be listening. He began shivering as his eyes darted here and there around him-- at the four brightly-colored abominations of nature standing in front of him, giggling in mindless happiness as they skipped merrily along... At the huge, smiling flowers that choked the landscape, swaying in tune with the tinny-sounding keyboard music that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Dib's quivering face could be seen reflected in the glossy screens of the creatures' tummies for only a scant second before both his voice and Zim's combined in one scream of pure, unfettered terror, one that sent the grazing bunnies that could be seen here and there scurrying like the wind:
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"
After being able to come up with only incoherent jibberish for several minutes of catatonic fear, Zim finally mustered the courage to attempt conversation with these creatures. "Wh-who... what are you?!"
"Silly master! They're just your friends!" giggled a high-pitched voice-- one that hinted at an intelligence no higher than the vapid creatures skipping around it.
Zim turned his trembling face towards the familiar sound to see G.I.R.'s bug-eyed dog suit, the robot's tongue lolling from its gleefully-grinning face.
Zim's face brightened in relief for a second or two, then dropped in grim realization. "GIR... you were the one changing channels, weren't you?" he asked, in utter deadpan.
"Yupperoonie, Master! Oooh, you're so smart!" G.I.R. chirped happily, clapping its tiny black paws together.
"Then... who has the remote now?!" Zim asked, bordering on panic.
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Back in Zim's house, the gerbil sniffed the air momentarily, blinking its beady eyes in surprise that the strange dog-thing next to it was suddenly gone. After continuing to blink and twitch its tail for a moment longer, its attention span waned. It scurried over to the small box the dog-thing had been holding, then pressed a random button with a tiny paw...
***FZZZT!***
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"Aaaaaand we're back! Glad you've tuned in for this Very Special Episode (TM) of Rosie O'prahldo!"
The huge studio audience cheered and clapped enthusiastically as the host of the talk show in progress waddled back onto the stage. O'prahldo offered a bright grin and an acknowledging wave to her adoring fans in the audience. After a second to subtly adjust her toupeé, she brought her microphone up to her gaudily-lipsticked mouth.
"If you've just tuned in, our theme today is "My Lover tried to Eat Me Alive!!" We're here now with Mr...." She stared at her cue card for a moment in slight disbelief, then returned to her charismatic grin as she continued, "Mr. Gerr, from Heironymous, USA! Now, Mr. Gerr..."
"Um... Missus Lady-Mustache-Person?" the befuddled green dog sitting in a nearby chair asked O'prahldo loudly. "I'm not a man... I'm a mongoose dog!" Pausing for a second of thought, it continued, "And... and I'm not a robot, either!"
Ignoring the disgruntled cry of "D'arrrrr!!" coming from somebody in a hideous wig sitting in the front row, the host leaned over closer to her guest. "Sorry-- that's next week's show. Play along for now," she whispered. Turning back to the audience, she continued, unfazed: "Now, Mr. Gerr has been known to be quite a heartbreaker when it comes to a particular sweetie of his. Everybody meet... Miss CupCake!"
O'prahldo raised her arm towards the side of the stage, where a small chocolate cupcake somehow made its way up to rest in the chair next to G.I.R., accompanied by whoops and cat-calls from the more supportive-- or perhaps just more base-minded-- members of the audience.
"Ooh! Cupcake!!" G.I.R. cooed, beginning to drool at the mouth slightly. "I luuuv you, cupcake!"
"That's what you've been telling her for quite a while, lover-boy..." O'prahldo drawled, rolling her eyes at the robot-puppy. "But we've got another special guest here today-- one who's been visiting Mr. Gerr's room with alarming frequency lately, so we hear! Would you please all give a hearty welcome to... Ms. Pig!!"
Thundering techno music played in the background as the audience shouted incoherent threats at the now-sweating green dog. G.I.R. watched uncomfortably as his friend, the perpetually-mud-caked Pig, sashayed onto the stage, batting her eyelashes at the audience.
Ignoring the less-than-flattering shouts being lobbed at her and the robot, she crawled into another chair on the other side of G.I.R. Ms. Pig turned to the silent cupcake nearby, oinking something under her breath.
Suddenly, a flurry of *BLEEP*s covered up the conversation on stage. As G.I.R. yelped, ducking under its chair, Miss Cupcake took a flying leap and began smothering chocolate frosting all over Ms. Pig's face in a pitiful attempt of an attack.
The pig scowled and began futilely gnawing at the persistent, scorned cupcake; before long, security guards began clambering onto the stage. As the show quickly devolved into chaos, the host scrambled in front of the cameras, saying, "Um... this is Rosie O'prahldo, signing off. Be sure to tune in tomorrow for our shocking look at one girl's tragic love life, in "My Name is Devi D.... --ACK!!"
The host fled outside of the camera crew's view as a chair flew by, accompanied by the fearsome battle cry of Miss Cupcake. A sickening CRACK could be heard from off-camera, as O'prahldo's voice cried, in a voice usually heard from people with severe colds, "Aww, darn! D'ot agaid!..."
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Back in Zim's house, the gerbil had long since fallen asleep, being easily bored by all the noisy TV-humans' yelling. While it snored, it lazily rolled over the TV remote...
***FZZZT!***
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Zim finally regained his wits, opening his eyes to see... nothing. Nothing at all-- a world of utter darkness. He blinked several times, finally taking off his contacts to find that they were not the cause. "So quiet..." he said softly to himself. It was strange... he'd never felt anything like this before. No squealy G.I.R... No stalking Dib... No begrudging Tallest...
"I've died..." Zim said to himself, noting that his voice didn't even echo. The little alien closed his eyes and laid back with a slight smile. "...and finally reached paradise."
"MAAAASSSTERRRR!!" came the bloodcurdlingly hyper voice of G.I.R.'s voice-processor. Zim hardly had a second to react before the overjoyed robot crushed its master within a loving hug; as Zim swore he heard the sound of his organs burst apart, his first thought he was able to manage was, "Nnnnoooo-- I was wronggg... It's the other place..."
Dib soon walked up to Zim as well. Zim sighed pitifully and moaned, "Oh, I should've known-- you were in charge of this place all along!!"
Dib's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Zim? We're just stuck in some kind of void... kind of like the Bermuda Triangle. He smiled proudly and continued, "So while I was trying to find you, I was thinking what a brilliant idea it was for me to have brought the Super-Deluxe-Annual-Edition of ‘Mysterious Mysteries Monthly’ with me... it's got everything you need to know about escaping the Triangle-- it can’t be much different to get out of wherever we are now!"
Much as it pained Zim to accept that his way out was suggested by his nemesis, the Invader took note of the fact that, otherwise, the three of them were currently stuck with each other for what could be forever; thus, Zim perked up at this shred of hope. "Really?! Where did you put it?"
"Well, ZIM..." Dib said, relishing his victory over the alien, I've been carrying it the whole time in my pocket, right h---" he continued, but Dib stopped as he reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat, feeling the empty hole torn through where his prized magazine would have been.
After a moment of stunned, icy silence, Dib slumped onto the floor of wherever they were standing. "No," he said in a pleading whine. His mind offhandedly wondered if there was now a Teletubby running about on some child's program carrying Dib's last hope of salvation from this place... His voice dropped to a desperate, choking cry, "We’re doooomed!!"
A moment more of silence passed before G.I.R. opened its mouth. Zim quickly remarked, "G.I.R., if you begin singing even one word of the Doom Song, I will take great joy in seeing if your head can be recycled while it's still attached."
The puppy-suited robot sighed and closed its mouth. Silence returned to the void once more.
As Zim and Dib sat in the blank darkness, G.I.R.'s face suddenly lit up from a rare moment of realization. It tugged on Zim's sleeve anxiously as it squeaked, "Master! I've seen this before! I know what to do!"
Zim rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. Turning to his slave-robot, he asked, if only for the sake of having something to do, "What do you do when this happens, G.I.R.?"
The robot's smile widened proudly. "You just say, ‘There's no place like home!’"
G.I.R. blinked blankly a few times, its empty head occupied as it tried to remember. As its greenish-blue eyes finally lit up, the robot began: "Well, okay, once there was this time when I was watching this TV show thingie, and there were all these little am-i-nallls, an' they were trapped and all in danger an' stuff like that... and one of the am-i-nals turned and looked right at me! And, Master, I was SO happy, 'cause the TV critter-thingie said I could help! And all I had to do was say "I CARE!!" over and over... so I said that I cared-- over, an' over, an' over, an' over..."
"...GIR? Get on with it," Zim flatly interrupted, his voice taking the tone of a frazzled babysitter about to snap. He sat down, slumping, and began rubbing his fingers across his eyes; there would be a migraine coming along any minute now, he knew. Asking G.I.R. for help inevitably caused such unpleasantries...
"Oh! Sorry, Master..." G.I.R. whispered, its ears drooping before it continued. "Anyway, I was saying this all these times, and just as I was gonna try smashing the TV to let the nice am-i-nals out, THEY WERE FREE!! And I helped them... I was soooo happy! So that means we probably could get out too... just like that nice Dorothy-girl who said "there's no place like home" and started tap-dancing with her red shoes..."
G.I.R. became even more ecstatic as it remembered something else. "And maybe if that works, when we come home, there'll be a flying monkey, just like the monkeys in that girl-with-red-shoes movie! Oooo, I luv monkeys."
Zim and Dib briefly looked at each other defeatedly for a moment, trying to resolve themselves to their now-certain doom, before Dib sighed heavily and shrugged, saying, "Y'know, Zim... we might as well try it. If it's our only hope, why not? Would you rather listen to your... fake dog for the rest of your life?"
Zim shuddered, then bit his lip. Choking back his Irken pride at having to resort to the idea of a dimwitted robot and a scummy stink-human, he nodded his head, forcing himself to say, "Sure. Why not?"
"Yayyy!! Master and his friend are gonna use my plaaaaaan!!" G.I.R. cheered, squeaking as it bounced up and down in glee. "And I'm gonna get a monkey!"
The three of them began to chant the line in unison, "There's no place like home... no place like home." G.I.R. was still bouncing in joy, its tongue flapping up and down as it repeated the words, while the much less enthusiastic Dib and Zim chanted blandly, running the words together to get it over with.
However, to Zim and Dib's surprise, a flurry of strangely 1940s-ish glitter began forming around them. In an effect that looked suspiciously like something pulled from a low-budget B-movie, Zim, Dib, and G.I.R. found themselves back in Zim's living room once the glitter settled and vanished.
"I'm... I'm back! G.I.R., we're saved!!" Zim shouted joyfully. He began skittering from here to there in the living room, making sure that this wasn't just another temporary realm, before collapsing into a relieved heap onto his couch, still cackling deliriously. Ignoring the squeak and hideous CRUNCH sound as he fell onto the cushions, Zim looked up at the disturbing painting of what might have been a yellow, wide-eyed monkey, With a bright grin he said, "I never thought I'd be happy to see that miserable creature's face again!"
Dib was equally happy at having returned, but it didn't take long before his paranoid brain began to gnaw at his thoughts yet again. He tapped a finger against his chin, his eyes narrowed in puzzlement, as he said, "But... how in the world did saying a line from ‘The Wizard of Oz' bring us back here?"
G.I.R. smiled warmly at Dib's confusion. "Silly Dibby-person! You can do anything in a cartoon!" it chirped.
Zim looked up from the couch, his face showing his frustration. "GIR, don't be even stupider than you are to begin with. You know we're not in a cartoon!"
The robot's grin faded. It blinked, then turned to face the screen, pointing its costumed paw towards the audience. "Then what are all those people doing out there looking at us?"
Zim craned his neck to see the wall of his living room, nothing more. His face twitched-- there was the migraine, at last. "GIR, there's nobody out there watching us! Everybody knows we're not in a TV show!!"
Dib looked towards where the green dog was pointing. He froze where he stood, his eyes growing even larger than usual at the sight.
Rubbing his eyes in a panic, Dib looked at the wall again... and saw nothing but a wall.
Turning an even paler shade of white, Dib began inching his way over to Zim's open front door. He resolved that the best course of action for the day would be to get home and fall asleep as fast as was possible, the better to wash this day from his mind...
However, as he cautiously made his way past the lawn-gnome sentries lining Zim's front yard (as well as a possible new death-weapon disguised as a pig toy nearby), the thought continued burning at the back of Dib's brain. Was the sea of attentive faces he thought he had seen for just that brief second actually real?!
Dib shook his head defiantly. Believing in Bigfoot stories was well and good, but there were some things that were just too bizarre to be true, even in this world, Dib thought to himself. Still, he made a mental note to mention today's events before the next Swollen Eyeball meeting...
As Dib walked away towards his house, he didn't even notice the words that appeared in front of him:
“THE END.”