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Description
Parents

Dib blinked his eyes open. His alarm was blaring. He groaned, slapping his hand over the snooze button. He heard a chuckle. Zim was at his desk, fiddling with some random piece of machinery that he quickly put back in his PAK. He was already in his disguise, scrunched up in the seat. Zim pushed himself away from the desk. Dib forced himself to sit. He rubbed at his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hello. You sleep very loudly. What is that noise you’re making? Zim has been curious about it for some time,” Zim says.

“Snoring,” Dib says. He yawned, stretching. “Did you never leave? I fell asleep at... at…”

“You fell asleep around three in the morning,” Zim says. He stood, shaking out his legs. “Odd considering it was a Tuesday. It appeared you simply could not sleep. You put Zim under the assumption humans needed hours more of rest.”

“Mmm. Most do. I have a touch of insomnia. Mild insomnia. It’s not too bad, certainly not as bad as most people who have insomnia,” Dib explains. He dragged himself out of bed, snatching a shirt off the dresser as he went to his closet. “Is it cold out today?”

“Your alarm clock’s interface says it will be sixty degrees Fahrenheit.”

“So, yes?”

“For a human, perhaps,” Zim says. Dib grumbles, dressing quickly and going out his room door. Gaz was leaving hers already, giving Zim a nod as she went. Dib heard noise already downstairs, stopping at the base of the staircase.

“Is Dad home?”

“Yeah,” Gaz sighs. “For a second. Maybe.”

Zim felt his wig twitch at the click of his antennae and readjusted it. “Why?” he asked.

Dib shrugged, moving to the kitchen where the noise was coming from. “Dad?”

“Son! You’re awake! Great! Your foreign friend was already here when I got home last night,” Membrane says, adjusting one of his hovering monitors at the table.

“He stayed over- why are you fixing the monitor? You haven’t used it in years,” Dib says, grabbing himself a bowl of cereal. As he grabbed the milk he heard Membrane standing.

“For my labs, of course. It’s gathering dust here,” he says, picking up the monitor. “Son, honey, Zim.”

Zim nodded at him as he left. Zim watched him until the front door shut behind him. Dib was sitting at the table when Zim turned back around. “Are all Earth parents like that?”

“Like what?”

“Vain? Conceited? Loving but allowing themselves to be too busy to spend adequate time with their kids?” Gaz asked, angrily chewing on what Zim recognized as a ‘breakfast bar’. Dib grimaced.

“He’s gotten better,” he says. “I’m not defending him, it’s true. He’s really gotten better at spending time with us. Dad is… not a good example of the average parent. He’s arguably the most important scientist on Earth, until his death.”

“And then he wants Dib to take over. If he ever grows out of his “temporary insanity”,” Gaz says. Zim sat at the table, crossing his arms.

“… “temporary insanity”…” Zim begins. Dib sighs heavily into his cereal.

“The whole ‘belief in the paranormal’ thing. He thinks I’m insane for thinking it’s real. Even though it is,” Dib grumbles. Zim laughed so suddenly and loud that Gaz almost fell back in her seat.

“Jesus! Don’t laugh like that, you do sound insane!” she screams, kicking the Irken under the table.

“Ow. Zim apologizes, but your father is quite… blind to what is directly in front of him. Zim has been coming here for how long now? And he has yet to figure it out? Granted, Dib-stink caught on within seconds. Zim would have expected better from your parental unit.”

“Don’t say ‘parental unit’, it’s weird,” Gaz says. “He’s not like your freaky robot parents.”

“He does adamantly deny the paranormal, though,” Dib says, reaching back to set the bowl by the sink. He only had to lean his chair back slightly to do so. Zim scoffed.

“Zim is not complaining, not really. It allows Zim to come and go as he pleases in this disguise.”

“Speaking of, you ever going to upgrade that, or just keep playing by the old standards?” Gaz asks. She scrunched up the wrapper, tossing it unceremoniously at Dib’s head without looking. He only briefly glared at her before tossing it across the room to the trash. Zim smirked.

“It works fine,” he says. “Perhaps one day, but not today.”

“Actually,” Dib began, standing. “Do you know what Irken parents were like?”
Gaz gave him an odd look. She got up next, leaving before either of them. “What’s that matter?”

“Zim’s been wondering that for most of Dib-stink’s questions,” he says, following her. Dib ran after them.

“Hey, they’re valid questions!” he shouts.

“Whatever. I’M pretty sure we’re genetic experiments,” Gaz says coolly. Zim gives her a look of utter confusion and Gaz shrugs, counting off her fingers. “We never met our mother, there’s no record of our birth anywhere in the house, and we’re freaks—Dib’s the freakiest.”

“Hey…”

“Regardless, we’re alive so whatever,” Gaz says. She grabbed her coat off the rack on her way by. Dib was scrambling to put his on as she left the house. Zim waited for him to pass before shutting the door behind them.

“Where are we going?” Dib asked. Gaz glared behind her.

“I was going to go to Beth’s house. You losers aren’t invited. Find something else to do with your Sunday,” she says, waving them off. Dib’s shoulders sagged as she walked away.

“Damn. I was hoping she’d finally wanted to spend time together.”

“She is an aloof one,” Zim said. He grabbed Dib’s collar, guiding him along. “Zim wants to visit the woods again.”

“Zim says she’s aloof when he just spent hours playing games with her,” Dib says. He shrugged his jacket into place, taking the space next to the Irken on the sidewalk. “She never does that with me.”

“Don’t complain. She would win every round and knows it. That gets boring. Zim presents a challenge,” Zim explains, smirking. Dib glowered at his smugness. He huffed, knocking into the alien. He stumbled, regaining his balance and knocking Dib back. He laughed as he stumbled.

“No, but you’re right, fair point. So…. What WERE Irken parents like? Is that information in your PAK?”

“It likely is, though it would be quite the fall into the data. That is millennia of memories to sift through,” Zim explains. “However… Zim recalls looking for it once while at the Academy. They were much like most parents, Zim assumes.”

“Mmmm, not necessarily,” Dib says. Zim gives him a questioning look. “It changes. Some parent animals abandon their young as soon as they can fend for themselves. Then there are packs. Then society. We raise children and help them into the world, or well, we’re supposed to. I think a lot of alien species would do the same.”

“You would be right. Though, Irkens don’t bother to learn much of the cultures they subvert past what is necessary,” Zim explains. “My robots were primarily for appearances. Irken parents were much like the animals whom would throw their young into the wild upon their ability to survive… your father-”

“Isn’t around much. We were essentially raised by his monitors and learned how to raise ourselves. He cares, he just… doesn’t know how to parent,” Dib said, waving his hands around.

Zim hummed, pushing through some bushes. Dib paused at the sidewalk, watching the alien until he was half way into the trees. It was almost something out of a horror film if he shot it right. Zim turned to him and leaned against a tree.

“Is Dib-stink coming?”

“I thought we were going to go to the park…”

“Zim said the woods, not the park,” Zim reiterated. He walked away, waving over his shoulder for Dib to follow. Dib shrugged, readjusting his jacket. He threw the hood up and climbed over the bushes.

“Fine, but if I get ticks I blame you. I didn’t pack any bug spray,” Dib grumbled. He heard Zim snort at him.

Description
Parents

Dib blinked his eyes open. His alarm was blaring. He groaned, slapping his hand over the snooze button. He heard a chuckle. Zim was at his desk, fiddling with some random piece of machinery that he quickly put back in his PAK. He was already in his disguise, scrunched up in the seat. Zim pushed himself away from the desk. Dib forced himself to sit. He rubbed at his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hello. You sleep very loudly. What is that noise you’re making? Zim has been curious about it for some time,” Zim says.

“Snoring,” Dib says. He yawned, stretching. “Did you never leave? I fell asleep at... at…”

“You fell asleep around three in the morning,” Zim says. He stood, shaking out his legs. “Odd considering it was a Tuesday. It appeared you simply could not sleep. You put Zim under the assumption humans needed hours more of rest.”

“Mmm. Most do. I have a touch of insomnia. Mild insomnia. It’s not too bad, certainly not as bad as most people who have insomnia,” Dib explains. He dragged himself out of bed, snatching a shirt off the dresser as he went to his closet. “Is it cold out today?”

“Your alarm clock’s interface says it will be sixty degrees Fahrenheit.”

“So, yes?”

“For a human, perhaps,” Zim says. Dib grumbles, dressing quickly and going out his room door. Gaz was leaving hers already, giving Zim a nod as she went. Dib heard noise already downstairs, stopping at the base of the staircase.

“Is Dad home?”

“Yeah,” Gaz sighs. “For a second. Maybe.”

Zim felt his wig twitch at the click of his antennae and readjusted it. “Why?” he asked.

Dib shrugged, moving to the kitchen where the noise was coming from. “Dad?”

“Son! You’re awake! Great! Your foreign friend was already here when I got home last night,” Membrane says, adjusting one of his hovering monitors at the table.

“He stayed over- why are you fixing the monitor? You haven’t used it in years,” Dib says, grabbing himself a bowl of cereal. As he grabbed the milk he heard Membrane standing.

“For my labs, of course. It’s gathering dust here,” he says, picking up the monitor. “Son, honey, Zim.”

Zim nodded at him as he left. Zim watched him until the front door shut behind him. Dib was sitting at the table when Zim turned back around. “Are all Earth parents like that?”

“Like what?”

“Vain? Conceited? Loving but allowing themselves to be too busy to spend adequate time with their kids?” Gaz asked, angrily chewing on what Zim recognized as a ‘breakfast bar’. Dib grimaced.

“He’s gotten better,” he says. “I’m not defending him, it’s true. He’s really gotten better at spending time with us. Dad is… not a good example of the average parent. He’s arguably the most important scientist on Earth, until his death.”

“And then he wants Dib to take over. If he ever grows out of his “temporary insanity”,” Gaz says. Zim sat at the table, crossing his arms.

“… “temporary insanity”…” Zim begins. Dib sighs heavily into his cereal.

“The whole ‘belief in the paranormal’ thing. He thinks I’m insane for thinking it’s real. Even though it is,” Dib grumbles. Zim laughed so suddenly and loud that Gaz almost fell back in her seat.

“Jesus! Don’t laugh like that, you do sound insane!” she screams, kicking the Irken under the table.

“Ow. Zim apologizes, but your father is quite… blind to what is directly in front of him. Zim has been coming here for how long now? And he has yet to figure it out? Granted, Dib-stink caught on within seconds. Zim would have expected better from your parental unit.”

“Don’t say ‘parental unit’, it’s weird,” Gaz says. “He’s not like your freaky robot parents.”

“He does adamantly deny the paranormal, though,” Dib says, reaching back to set the bowl by the sink. He only had to lean his chair back slightly to do so. Zim scoffed.

“Zim is not complaining, not really. It allows Zim to come and go as he pleases in this disguise.”

“Speaking of, you ever going to upgrade that, or just keep playing by the old standards?” Gaz asks. She scrunched up the wrapper, tossing it unceremoniously at Dib’s head without looking. He only briefly glared at her before tossing it across the room to the trash. Zim smirked.

“It works fine,” he says. “Perhaps one day, but not today.”

“Actually,” Dib began, standing. “Do you know what Irken parents were like?”
Gaz gave him an odd look. She got up next, leaving before either of them. “What’s that matter?”

“Zim’s been wondering that for most of Dib-stink’s questions,” he says, following her. Dib ran after them.

“Hey, they’re valid questions!” he shouts.

“Whatever. I’M pretty sure we’re genetic experiments,” Gaz says coolly. Zim gives her a look of utter confusion and Gaz shrugs, counting off her fingers. “We never met our mother, there’s no record of our birth anywhere in the house, and we’re freaks—Dib’s the freakiest.”

“Hey…”

“Regardless, we’re alive so whatever,” Gaz says. She grabbed her coat off the rack on her way by. Dib was scrambling to put his on as she left the house. Zim waited for him to pass before shutting the door behind them.

“Where are we going?” Dib asked. Gaz glared behind her.

“I was going to go to Beth’s house. You losers aren’t invited. Find something else to do with your Sunday,” she says, waving them off. Dib’s shoulders sagged as she walked away.

“Damn. I was hoping she’d finally wanted to spend time together.”

“She is an aloof one,” Zim said. He grabbed Dib’s collar, guiding him along. “Zim wants to visit the woods again.”

“Zim says she’s aloof when he just spent hours playing games with her,” Dib says. He shrugged his jacket into place, taking the space next to the Irken on the sidewalk. “She never does that with me.”

“Don’t complain. She would win every round and knows it. That gets boring. Zim presents a challenge,” Zim explains, smirking. Dib glowered at his smugness. He huffed, knocking into the alien. He stumbled, regaining his balance and knocking Dib back. He laughed as he stumbled.

“No, but you’re right, fair point. So…. What WERE Irken parents like? Is that information in your PAK?”

“It likely is, though it would be quite the fall into the data. That is millennia of memories to sift through,” Zim explains. “However… Zim recalls looking for it once while at the Academy. They were much like most parents, Zim assumes.”

“Mmmm, not necessarily,” Dib says. Zim gives him a questioning look. “It changes. Some parent animals abandon their young as soon as they can fend for themselves. Then there are packs. Then society. We raise children and help them into the world, or well, we’re supposed to. I think a lot of alien species would do the same.”

“You would be right. Though, Irkens don’t bother to learn much of the cultures they subvert past what is necessary,” Zim explains. “My robots were primarily for appearances. Irken parents were much like the animals whom would throw their young into the wild upon their ability to survive… your father-”

“Isn’t around much. We were essentially raised by his monitors and learned how to raise ourselves. He cares, he just… doesn’t know how to parent,” Dib said, waving his hands around.

Zim hummed, pushing through some bushes. Dib paused at the sidewalk, watching the alien until he was half way into the trees. It was almost something out of a horror film if he shot it right. Zim turned to him and leaned against a tree.

“Is Dib-stink coming?”

“I thought we were going to go to the park…”

“Zim said the woods, not the park,” Zim reiterated. He walked away, waving over his shoulder for Dib to follow. Dib shrugged, readjusting his jacket. He threw the hood up and climbed over the bushes.

“Fine, but if I get ticks I blame you. I didn’t pack any bug spray,” Dib grumbled. He heard Zim snort at him.