“GIR!” Silence. “GIR!” The voice was shrill, demanding; however, it wasn’t heeded. A contacted eye, as the one in question had just returned from skool, twitched before conceding. “Fine. You can have… your ‘piggy’.”

A squeal erupted from the over hanging wires and a metallic body screamed downward, attaching itself to the green boy’s head.

“GIR!” The robot continued its ‘hugging’ and didn’t release its master. The master sighed while placing a clawed hand to his forehead. His words were, as he’d say, ‘crafty’. “Yes… Gir. You’ll get your piggy-” The robot squealed, “but…”

The robot jumped to the ground, facing its master, its false eyes watering, “But? Buuut? But what master!? What do I have to dooo… I need the piggy. I needs him good…”

The alien face, falsely disguised, grinned. Finally. “What GIR? What do you need to do?” He tapped his claw against his waist before scowling, “You need to go up to the ground floor, GIR. And stay there.”

Instantly the robot’s eyes cleared and he looked ecstatic, “OKEYDOKEY!” Immediately he sprang upwards through a pipe.

Silence. Finally.

The wide zipper smile which had appeared across the alien’s face disappeared as he turned to face a floating screen. “Computer” He spoke sharply, “Run a scan over Terran Base One, check for any ‘creepy crawlies’. ”

“Mm… well… alright. ”

The alien sighed before saying, scathingly, “Now.”

The Computer didn’t reply, instead, house data streamed across the screen. In the top left corner ‘Terran Base One’ was written, in Irken of course. Next to it, on the right, ‘Irken Invader ZIM’ was visible.  

That was correct, this was Irken Invader ZIM’s base. No creepy crawly earth-dirt devices would defile it. Scowling, ZIM sat in the control seat for a moment, leaning back on the curve, watching the data stream.

Deciding that the state-of-the-art mechanics were, in fact, not moving fast enough, he leaned forward and began making rapid key strokes. With GIR out of his way, perhaps he could get this done without massive pain.

Through the newfound silence all that was heard were the rapid keystrokes of the Irken, and the soft clicking of the data stream. The peace didn’t last very long however, the little sporadic robot slammed down from the ceiling.

“MASTER!” It screeched, apparently immensely pleased.

“GIR.” ZIM hissed, wrenching the robot off his head, “I told you to stay on the ground floor? ”

“Ah was!” the robot sung, giddily, “But then I made you something!”

ZIM placed a claw against his throbbing temples before hissing, “What GIR? What did you make me?”

“A sammich!” From the robot’s metallic head a sandwich shot up and ZIM hissed.

“I can’t eat that.”

“I made it with- SPACE ingredients!” The robot began giggling madly into his hands.

ZIM looked at him, suspicion apparent, “Computer!” He said loudly, breaking the computer from its task, he picked through the sandwich, there didn’t appear to be anything discriminatory. “Check that the meats and ‘bread’ of this sammich are made with alien substance.” He then scowled, “Which are good for the intake of ZIM.”

A small scanner hovered down from the ceiling, and a red light engulfed the sandwich.

“Meats and bread of ‘sammich’ are neat for consumption of ZIM.” ZIM shrugged after hearing this; with a short glare at GIR he took a bite, “Bu-”

ZIM shoved the scanner away, chewing thoughtfully, “Well, GIR, it’s alright.”

The robot jumped into the air, joyfully, and began running around the room screeching happily.

ZIM ignored his robot and sat back down in his chair, chewing and watching the data stream. “Yes. Perhaps if you’ve managed to stop placing ‘razors’ in your ‘creations’, ZIM will eat your ‘food’ more often.

GIR wasn’t listening, still running in circles and ZIM nodded to himself.

“Yes. Perhaps if you’ve-” He suddenly paused, his eyes twitching and widening, “Wha-“

His thin chest suddenly lurched and a hand went to his mouth, gagging noises ensued. With another full body lurch he fell backwards onto the cold metal lab floor, his pak burst into action, clicking and whirling against an unknown menace.

ZIM’s body fell silent.

“Reactivating,” The cold dead voice issued from the pak.

Immediately the thin alien body convulsed, claws scrabbling at his stomach, as though acid burnt through it. The body silenced.

“Reactivating.”

Another convulsion. More heaving. Silence.

“Reacti-”

Silence. There was nothing more to reactivate.

The little robot, completely unaware to the consequences of his actions giggled and spilled ingredients from its head cavity. There was packet of alien meat, another of alien bread, and lastly, a small bottle of rat poison. “I used mah own seasoning!” The little robot screeched, running again, in an endless circle.


Across town, blank eyes stared at a laptop screen. “I- I won.”

The pale lips tasted the words, “I won. ”

Before he could utter the tantalizing words again, the screen blanked out, and an explosion could be heard from somewhere across the city.

There was no proof. No proof that every word he had spoken had been the truth. But still. He had won.