Yes, yes, it's a week after Thanksgiving. I've been busy! I shouldn't even be stopping now with all the homework I have to do! Anyway, thanks for the attention to Part I, and please enjoy Part II!

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Part II: Native Earthlings
Dib's POV

"What were you doing, Zim?" Ms. Bitters snarled, bending her strangely sinuous form down to glare right in his face.

"Ugh---just---uggghhh---sleeping," he muttered, shuddering inexplicably at the thought.

"It is not nap time, Zim. Now if I catch your attention wandering again, I will have no choice but to send you to the principal's office."

"Eugh---yes, sir," Zim muttered, drawing slightly away as she leaned in towards him.

I snickered as Ms. Bitters made her way to the front of the class. "Maybe you'd learn a little more about Earth, Zim, if you didn't fall asleep in the middle of class!"

He turned to give me an ugly (-er than usual) look; it was Ms. Bitters' glare that cowed me, though. I drew back as she finally resumed her seat. "And now, class, back to our story. While the Pilgrims were busy laying around and dying to death, a group of nearby Indians---"

"Ms. Bitters!" Zita's hand was in the air. "Aren't you supposed to say 'Native Americans' now?"

"Oh, nobody really cares," Ms. Bitters muttered with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, a group of nearby Indians..."

Tearing my eyes away from Zim, I turned back to Ms. Bitters as she droned on with the story. What a stupid, pointless waste of a skool day, I thought. Like we hadn't all been hearing this story since we were in kindergarten. Though Ms. Bitters did have a very unique take on it, as with all her lessons...

I yawned, elbow sliding slightly on the desk to lower my head. Geez, I was exhausted. I had spent all last night trying to hack my way into Zim's computer system, without much luck. Maybe I could finish tonight...I really wanted to foil Zim's newest plan before the holiday. It was something with evil robotic raccoons or something...

My eyes closed---I jerked them open, trying to focus on Ms. Bitters' words---she had now descended into a long, off-topic discussion of various Indian tribes and the history of scalping, syphilis and cannibalism...my chin slid out of my hand...I felt, as if from far away, it hit my desk, felt my glasses go slightly askew...

"...anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. As the Pilgrims were starving to death like the doomed morons they all were, they were fortunate enough to be found by a local Indian..."

...

"Dad! I'm home!"

"Ah! Welcome back, Big-Head Boy."

"My head's not big!"

"But that's your name, stupid," his sister, Doomy-Fisted Girl, muttered from the teepee floor, where she was drawing a picture of a piggy in the dirt, using one of the feathers from her headdress as a pen.

"Oh...right," Big Head muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Big-Head Boy's dad, the village shaman, straightened up. His rough animal skin shirt was pulled up over his face, as usual, and his eyes were hidden by goggles. ...You know...Indian goggles. Or something.

"I'm working on my newest creation---I call it the 'Tele-Fog.' When finished, it will be able to send smoke signals 1000 times faster!" he screamed, pointing to the tent roof dramatically.

"Uh, cool, I guess. Hey, Dad, is it okay if I go out into the forests and look for Sasquatches?"

"Hmm." His father scratched his hidden chin thoughtfully. "Well, normally I would say no...but then again, Sasquatches are based on a Native American legend...so logically, I should believe in them. Alright, that's perfectly fine, son." He waved his hand dismissively and returned to his work.

"Really? Great!" Big Head grabbed a satchel of supplies from the floor.

Doomy-Fisted Girl threw her feather to the floor and followed him out of the tent. "Yeah, I'm bored in here too," she muttered. "I'm gonna go play with my Game Slavey."

"Your what?"

"HI GUYS!" A boy with a tuft of red hair and a ridiculously huge smile appeared from the side of the teepee.

Doomy-Fisted Girl pointed. "My Game Slavey. You know, from the Slavey tribe of Northwest Canada?"

"...Did you honestly expect anyone to get that joke?"

"Not really. Anyway, I call him Stupid Rooster, because his hair kind of makes him look like a rooster, and he's stupid. Now come on," she said, grabbing Stupid Rooster's hand and dragging him away. "I want to practice this 'head-shrinking' thing I heard about."

"They did that in South America!" Big-Head Boy called after them.

"Whatever!"

Big-Head Boy watched them, sighed and then went off on his own into the woods.

Moving quietly through the trees, footsteps muffled by the snow, Big-Head Boy went looking for the spots where he had set his most recent Sasquatch-traps, hoping he would finally have a catch. Unfortunately all of them turned out to be empty---maybe he hadn't figured out the right bait? What did Sasquatches eat anyway? Maybe people? Big Head made a mental note to ask Doomy Fists later if she could borrow her Game Slavey...

He was just turning to head back to the camp when he heard a shrill noise coming through the trees.

"Get off me! TAK!"

Big-Headed Boy heard more shouts, screams and rustling. Frowning to himself, he ran a short distance and crouched down in the bushes, peering over them into a clearing. There were shoddy wooden buildings all around the edges of the site, like a little town, and a small number of people---though people like Big Head had never seen before, short and green with huge, bug-like eyes. They were all dressed in black and white clothes that didn't look like any animal skin he had ever seen---what had those come from, a zebra? Wait, he couldn't logically know what a zebra was. Whatever.

The little green people were all standing in a circle, except for two in the center, who seemed to be fighting. The slightly larger one, with purple eyes, was on top of the smaller, red-eyed one, and seemed to be doing her best to strangle him. From the sounds of it, most of the crowd approved of this, though there was one squat little one who seemed to be begging her to stop, while a little silver man did nothing more than jump around wildly and bang himself on the head.

Without thinking Big-Headed Boy jumped out of the bushes into the clearing. "What the heck is going on here?!" he called, eyes wide behind his glasses.

...Because Indians had glasses. No, seriously, I'm sure, don't bother looking it up.

All the little green people spun around, frozen, eyes just as wide as his. Even the two combatants in the middle of the group froze. The little squat one stopped his begging, jumped and squeaked, "Ah! Wild Earth-beast!" before ducking into a bush.

Big Head blinked. "...No. I'm just a kid from the village about a mile away," he said, jerking his thumb behind him. "Who are all of you?"

The red-eyed little man managed to extract himself from beneath his purple-eyed attacker and quickly stood up, rushing up to Big Head and standing on his tip-toes to make up for being half a foot shorter. "Greetings-eth, Native Earthling! I am---"

"---a complete idiot!"

"Shut up-eth, Tak! ...Eth!" He grimaced and turned back to Big-Head Boy. "I am Rev. Zim, leader of the Pilg-Irkens. We have come to your pitiful dirt-ball planet to escape the tyranny of our old world. Now who are you, to come wandering into our great and amazing village?!"

Big Head's eyes wandered around the little hovels for a moment, but he decided not to correct the green man. "My name is Big-Head Boy. My head's not big!" He opened his eyes and looked up at the confused Irken. "Er...sorry. Force of habit. So, uh..." He scratched the back of his neck and looked around the makeshift village. "...Everything going alright for you...Pig-Irkers?"

"Pilg-Irkens. And yes, things are goingeth, er---swimmingly."

"We're starving to death on a planet covered in burning icy death!"

"SHUT UP!"

"Starving to death?" Big-Headed Boy blinked. "Why, don't you guys have any leftover food from the summer?"

"We can't grow anything here," the purple-eyed woman said, crossing her arms over her chest. "We lack all the greenhouses and bioengineering equipment necessary for food production. All we've been able to do since our snacks ran out is scavenge through the forest, and most of what we've found burns us as badly as this," she grumbled, kicking at the snow with the protection of her shoe.

Big Head frowned. "Well, uh...if you guys are having any trouble, you could come back to my village with me. We've got some extra food and stuff if you need it..."

Rev. Zim waved his hand dismissively. "Thank you, but I don't think that will be necess---"

The purple-eyed one immediately shoved him into the snow---instantly his green skin started to burn, and he rolled around screaming. Big Head's eyes widened in shock, but he turned away as the green woman said, in her most delicate tone, "We'd be delighted. Please lead the way."

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Over the next year, the Pilg-Irkens and the Native Earthlings developed a close friendship, and the failing Irken settlement thrived under the new alliance. The Native Earthlings helped the Pilg-Irkens grow their own food, and Big Head's father, with his keen knowledge of stuff, even found a way to convert the corn and wheat into snacks they could eat. They helped the newcomers make better shelters, organize their village, and learn all the basics about the various plants and animals of the planet. Soon the Pilg-Irkens had grown from a starving and dying group of stragglers into a small but thriving community, and the two peoples were the greatest of friends.

About a year after Big-Head Boy had first wandered into the aliens' midst, the Pilg-Irkens, having enjoyed a copious harvest and converted it all into a great supply of chips and nachos, decided to throw a huge feast and invite the Native Earthlings to attend. The two peoples gathered together in the Pilg-Irken town, bringing food from each village and sitting together to happily chatter, Big-Head and his family sitting at the head table with Rev. Zim, Goody Tak and the other Pilg-Irken leaders.

Rev. Zim rose to his feet, raising his can of space-soda to propose a toast.

"My fellow Irkens and new hyuman friends," he said, and Big Head smiled up at him from his seat, "I would like to begin our feast by thanking the Native Earthlings for their aid during the past year. It is truly thanks to their great aid that we have survived on this new planet. Thanks to them and all that they've taught us, we now need no longer fear starvation, cold, or any of those creepy chihuahua dogs with the big bulbous eyes and lobotomy scars."

There was applause from the Irkens and humans. "WHOO-HOO! I like 'em doggies," GIR said, taking a huge swig of his drink and spilling most of it all down his front.

Rev. Zim made a motion for quiet, and the noise slowly died down. "And so, with all that in mind...ATTACK!"

"What?!"

Suddenly all the Pilg-Irkens leaped up, pulling laser-muskets out from under the table. The Native Earthlings let out cries of surprise and dived down, covering their heads with their hands as blasts of energy filled the air.

"Agh!" Big-Head Boy shouted, closing his eyes tightly and covering his ears.

Doomy-Fisted Girl, however, leaped up, pulling a tamahawk from her belt. "Naw-AW! Native Earthlings, counterattack!"

Recovering from the surprise of the Pilg-Irkens' treachery, many of the Native Earthlings jumped up and ran after her, picking up whatever weapons or supplies they could find as they tackled the attacking Irkens. Doomy-Fists punched Rev. Zim, who fell---GIR jumped up at her (more likely to hug than rebuff) and was scalped, much to his delight. Tak shot a laser blast at three Native Earthlings, was punched by a fourth, while the other Irkens---

"DIB!"

SMACK!

"AGH!"

I sat up, startled out of my dream, to see Ms. Bitters' wrinkled hand on the desk, inches from my face. I looked up at her slowly, nervously. She glared back with a grimace.

"Heh-heh...sorry," I muttered, tapping my fingers together nervously.

Ms. Bitters growled and swooped back to her desk. Zita raised her hand and and spoke without waiting to be called. "So, you're saying the Pilgrims and the Native Americans got along fine for a little while, but almost right after the first Thanksgiving they turned around and tried to kill each other?"

"Yes," Ms. Bitters said, nodding as she settled herself into her chair and tented her fingers on the desk. "And that is why we commemmorate this event every year by inviting over relatives we hate, and pretending to get along with them for one short meal before going back to wanting to kill each other. Or getting drunk and making a pass at your wife's sister, leading her to get horrible revenge on you," she added, bending low over her desk and dropping her voice to a loud whisper. Then her head shot back to glare over us. "Any questions?!"

I turned around in my seat; everyone was shooting each other disturbed looks. The bell rang. "Now have a Happy Thanksgiving," Ms. Bitters called dryly, as everybody jumped up and ran out of the room.

As people were being pushed and trampled, I waited for the usual rush to go by before daring to climb out of my seat, leaving me alone with the only other person who was (somehow) sensible enough to do so---Zim. And Keef, who seemed to have waited just to hang around us. "That was a great story, wasn't it, buddies?" he asked, rushing over as we began to file out of the room.

Neither Zim nor I answered; Zim just turned up his nose (...or lack of one) at us, and swept from the room. Glaring, I followed.

"Hey, you know what?" Keef called, rushing after us. "Since Ms. Bitters said that Thanksgiving is about people who don't like each other learning to get along, maybe you both should come over to my house tomorrow, and the three of us can all have Thanksgiving together! It would be so much fun, we could---"

"NO!" Zim and I both screamed, turning around together to yell at the little annoyance.

For the first time ever, Keef seemed somewhat cowed. Zim and I turned to glare at each other, then each spun around and marched a different way home.

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And that, class, is the horrible story of the first Invader Zim-themed Thanksgiving. Hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review! And for those interested, "10 IZ Pairings" should update by tomorrow...not that I should waste valuable time on that, but I will. "Death of the Dib" soon too, but that'll take a bit longer.