Zim sat preoccupied on his couch watching his television in one of the rare times when he had nothing to attend to. He sucked on a piece of Earth chocolate as he gazed upon the shining orb of projected light and sound while bearing a single straight face of observance. Next to him his robot henchman gazed lifelessly as well. A hypnotized gaze acquired through many weary secessions of viewing, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth in a torpid fascination. Zim swallows his melted chocolate. He scratches the back of his head. "I don't understand the purpose of this movie!" he says at last. We've been watching this Earth Human with a weird accent ramble about a desert now for 2 hours wearing a turban and nothing is happening!"

"Ssssh!" his Robot chastises him, "This is the best part!"

Suddenly, on the screen the very British accent of Peter O'Toole emerges in a almighty shriek: "Take no prisoners." suddenly the escapade of Bedouin camels and rag-tag militia Arabs race down the desert dune to the oncoming train.

Zim groaned after watching a seemingly endless movie that appeared to be going nowhere, at least to him. "This is getting boring. I'm gonna go and...do some stuff." he couldn't think of an excuse. Anything to get away from the insipid TV. His Robot Dog thing didn't mind. He continued to watch on excitedly.

He entered his kitchen where he a pot of coffee was brewing. He had taken up many earth customs over the years and had become accustomed to an earth diet. This included the substance the Earth race called: Coffee. Though, it had the strange effect of making him drowsy rather than alert. So he drank some in the evening to soothe him to sleep as he often found himself consumed in his endlessly tedious mechanics and sometimes lost touch with time. Which, by itself, contributed greatly to his decision to take up a normal Earth routine of taking the late hours to leisure and relax.

He poured the steaming liquid in his favorite cup which had boldly inscribed on it's face: "I love men" in all pink letters with a rainbow flag behind it. He hadn't comprehended the meaning of the cup he had purchased (stole) until he figured out that the two different humans were mates instead of two different races. All the while, he liked his cup more because of the novelty he got from remembering how stupid he was for buying (stealing) it, especially in a public place. He cringes as he thinks about it and lets the scalding liquid it holds soothe his innards.

His carefully sips as he leans on the counter, watching the clock on the wall and listening faintly to the echoes of the TV in the foyer/living room. He hears a deep voice come on abruptly followed by a groan of disappointment from his robot. He barely heard this booming baritone ring out: "Hi, I'm Robert Osborne and you're watching Lawrence of Arabia here on Turner Classic Movie..." followed by some spiel explaining the history of it or some weird fact.

He liked watching the inferior human films, especially older ones. It was a nice break from the constant realistic like projections and holograms he was always subjected to his day to day life around Irken machinery. He scoffs to himself. Human food, human leisure, human hobby. Pretty soon he'd be mowing the lawn too. If only he knew why. It was one of the many thing he had allowed himself after having his pedestal broken a few months ago when he finally realized he was alone on a desolate rock that nobody in the Empire cared about, and were probably happy he was there. Oh how the barbs of humiliation stung him. But in a way, he felt happier now, knowing there was no expectation for him to do anything. His only goal was that he owed unto himself: to keep on existing.

The world around him suddenly became filled with...life. A different sort of life that he hadn't realized. He suddenly cared what people thought about him. He suddenly took interest in caring for things and making his opinion known, not just another faceless and perpetual "new face" that blended in with the crowd at school. Which was strange to him. Trying to maintain his disguise and trying to be known too. What was he expecting? That maybe someday they would accept him? Not just a peer but for who he was, an alien. Never, and it was dreaming to think otherwise. If being around humans had taught him anything was that humans feared (and thus hated) what they didn't understand. And even if he could find acceptance, what would he do then? He'd always be noticed in public, which by itself isn't so bad but it get's annoying after a while. He preferred his solitude.

He suddenly realized he had come to the end of his drink. He casually tossed the remaining stale and lukewarm coffee into the sink and rinsed it down. He sighed to himself. Humans are such strange creatures; especially that Dib. Always pocking around me. Even now why they were both in High School. You'd think after a while he'd get tired of it, or give up, but no. Perhaps he found purpose in building himself up as some kind of savior of the human race and that was what justified it? Which is odd, because none of them liked nor wanted to associate with him anyway. One might think he wouldn't want to aide them with their lack of appreciation, but it wasn't his place to judge. Zim was Zim, and he was Dib. Whatever made Dib tick was none of his concern.

He threw his coffee cup into the sink and walked into the living room were Gir was still avidly watching the television after the commercial break had ended. "I'm going to bed. Be sure to turn off the main power coupler whenever you decide to shut off."

"Kay" the Robot half eagerly responded.

He descends the elevator to his lab to do some final adjustments before he slumbered. It was then as the doors of the pod opened a figure from the shadows grabs him and tackles him to the ground, pinning him in a strangle hold. He look at the figure, it's face only visible and grotesquely malformed but with a few rays of precious light those marking characteristics can still be seen, "Dib...?"