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The Happy Smiley Dib Show!	By : V021 Category: +G through L > Invader Zim > AU/AR-Alternate Universe-Alternate Reality Views: 2643 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Thanks to minds more observant than mine, a small error has been corrected. Songs being exploited for cheap pathos this chapter is “I’m Afraid of Americans” by David Bowie and “Don’t Stop Me” by Queen. V just loves Shaun of the Dead. Oh, and hooray for cameos!
Chapter 5: Heard It On a Mexican Radio
“…so, that song about the space man is about a girl?” squeaked G.I.R., overfilling his Suck-Monkey.
“No. It’s about a heroine addiction.” Gaz grumbled while she sorts through the shelves of chemically processed snacks. “See, when Major Tom’s talking about being stuck orbiting Earth in a ‘tin can’, what it really does is describe the disassociated feeling you get during a heroine high. Bowie is using a stranded astronaut as a metaphor for what it’s like to completely spaced out on drugs. And ‘Ashes to Ashes’ is about his attempt at recovery and the failure.”
“Wow. You is so smart! Like a mongoose!” The robot grinned, oblivious to the glop oozing over its dog suit.
It was times like this that made Gaz wonder why she had decided to bring the crazy rust-bucket along. It was a nuisance to her with its constant talking and smiling, always whining for more food—did it even need to eat? — or starting that oh so adorable children’s game of asking “Are we there yet?” every twenty seconds. And if that wasn’t enough, then there was all the trouble G.I.R. caused…
After that fiasco with the chicken truck in Houston and the high-speed escape from that group of hippies for Satan, Gaz was amazed that she hadn’t smashed the robot apart. She’d wanted to so badly, especially since G.I.R.’s misadventures had cost her about a week’s worth of valuable time and gas. But then again, Gaz rarely had the chance to eviscerate people with a spork, so maybe those side trips weren’t totally losses.
((Nobody needs anyone… They don’t even just pretend…))
G.I.R., satisfied it now had the maximum amount of Suck-Monkey glop possible, pranced over to her side and grinned dumbly at her as it waved the cup around.
Rolling her eyes, Gaz snagged a bag of Bloaty’s Pizza Bites and stood in line behind a thin guy with a hairstyle that reminded her of antennae getting coffee.
As the clerk handed over the flimsy cup, he asked, “You got any sugar or creamers back there?”
“Sugar? Creamers!” rumbled the clerk between smacks of Skoal. “We ain’t got none that pansy shit here, city boy. This ain’t one them there artsy-fartsy coffee shops. Drink is black like a REAL MAN, you pussy.”
((Johnny’s in America…))
The guy glared, wincing at every spatter of tobacco juice that hit his forehead, then whipped a giant knife and stabbed the clerk’s face into a gory pulp. “That man enough for you, shithead!”
Gaz turned to G.I.R. “I guess we don’t have to pay for the gas now.”
Suddenly, the guy twisted around to flash a blood-spattered grin at them as he readied his knife.
((I’m afraid I can’t help it…))
He lunged for Gaz, but to both their surprises, the dog-suited robot shoved her out of the way and ended up getting the knife lodged in its head.
While the maniac cursed and tried to get his knife unstuck, Gaz ducked behind the Suck Monkey machine and pulled out her baseball bat.
((Johnny wants that woman… Johnny wants to slash her throat…))
“Look, let’s make this easy,” he rasps, searching through the aisles. “How about you just come on out and die?”
She listened the boots squishing through spilt slushy glop as the maniac drew closer, holding her bat out as though it were a samurai’s katana.
“Fuck you.” Gaz snapped, cracking him upside the head when he stepped into view.
((Johnny looks up at the stars…))
With the maniac sprawled face up in a gooey mess of artificially flavored slush, Gaz warily edges toward the door. When she reached it, she glanced back just in time to block a downward blow. Frantically, she parried and dodged the maniac’s wild swings across the sludge-covered floor.
When they finally break apart, the maniac was standing between Gaz and the door. She took a step back, her foot crunching down on the Suck Monkey lip. With uncanny slowness, she reached down with one hand and scooped up G.I.R.’s motionless body.
The only sound is the lub-dub of a beating heart.
((God is an American…))
Shifting her weight, Gaz crouched down low and held the bat at the ready.
The maniac aped her stance, stretching his knife out toward her like a gleaming horn.
((Yeah, I’m afraid of Americans! I’m afraid of the words!))
With a frightening burst of speed, they both sprang toward each other but right before they collided in another furious battle, Gaz slid right between the maniac’s legs and battered down the door. She fled across the dusty blacktop toward the Jag, thankful that G.I.R.’s whining had made her put the top down. It wasn’t fear that made her rush, but the overwhelming need to get that part and get back before Zim could escape her wrath.
The maniac rushed after her, his gaunt face contorted in an expression more of annoyance than bloodlust.
((I’m afraid I can’t…))
Tossing the robot into the passenger seat, Gaz hurtled over the door and landed behind the wheel. But when she reached into her pocket for the keys, they slid out of her fumbling fingers and down between the seats.
“God dammit!” she growled, leaning over to fish them back out as the maniac closed the distance between them.
Right when he was about the slam the knife straight through Gaz’s unprotected kidneys, G.I.R. sat back and pulled down the hood of its doggie suit. Eyes shining red, it deployed its arsenal of missiles and blasted away.
((I’m afraid of Americans…))
Keys in hand, a slightly singed Gaz quickly revved the engine and hauled ass out of there mere seconds before the gas station erupted in a fiery explosion. As they drove away from the miniature mushroom cloud, she half-turns to the robot who once again had gone back to grinning stupidly at her.
“Are you okay?” she asked, sounding mildly concerned.
“No!” G.I.R. whined. “That bad man made me spill my Suck Monkey! And look at what he did to Piggy!”
Gaz pushed the rubber piggy away when G.I.R. shoved it in her face to show her where the knife had nicked it’s little piggy ear.
“What the fuck! Are you trying to make me wreck?” she snarled then softens a bit at the hurt puppy-eyes. “Look, I…I’ll fix up your piggy when we get back home, okay?” When she heard G.I.R.’s please little hum, Gaz huffed in relief.
It felt good to be rid of that troublesome, knife-wielding dumbass.
((Johnny’s an American…))
Rising up from the backseat, the maniac put Gaz in a stranglehold.
While she struggled to free herself, the car swerved dangerously all over the road before it went off the pavement completely and went careening out of control through the desert scrub. After a suspension-destroying rampage across the border, the Jag finally slammed head-on into a stand of cacti.
G.I.R. launched itself at the maniac, forcing him to release Gaz and they all go tumbling out as the Jag flipped onto its side.
Bruised and scratched, Gaz snarled and rounded on the maniac. “God! What’s your damage, jerkwad!”
“I don’t like loose-ends.” Muttered the maniac, pulling the knife out. “Now, I’m kind of on a tight schedule, so if you don’t mind not making me chasing you into a dead-end and skipping to the bit where I tear your intestines out, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
“No.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘no’.” Gaz repeated, crossing her arms. “As in ‘no, I won’t run’ and ‘no, you aren’t tearing my intestines out’.”
“Listen, girly,” the maniac snapped. “I have places to go and people to kill…”
“Ditto,” she growled back. “What? You didn’t think you’re the only person who’s homicidal, did you dumbass?”
“Actually, yes. Yes I did.”
Gaz giggled. “Silly rabbit…Tricks are for—”
“—kids.” The maniac finished with a groan. “God! If I wasn’t in such a hurry, I’d make you suffer for using that lame ass Tarantino quote. And you screwed it up, too!”
“Well, excuse the fuck out of me, Mister Moviefone,” she huffed. “I can’t help it if I’m in a Kill Bill mood right now.”
“Then why not try using a better revenge flick, like Cape Fear, or Sleepers. Hell! If you must use Tarantino, then pick one of his good movies, like Reservoir Dogs! Now there’s some great dialogue.”
“Very well, then. How about a bit of Hannibal?” Gaz brushed past him and, pulling the duffel bag out of the wreckage, cooed, “See ya’ around.”
It took a knife suddenly getting buried mere inches from her head to make Gaz pause.
“Okay, nut-job,” she hissed. “I have a little prepared speech I tell my stalker when he wants more than I'd like to give him. Gee, blank, I had a really nice...”
He snickered. “Now you’re ripping off Heathers? Damn, that’s old school.”
“Thank you. But, sadly, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the evening arguing about movie quotes, I have to get to the Pueblo de Los Lobos before moon-rise tonight…”
“Did you say Pueblo de Los Lobos? Well, isn’t that convenient! That’s just where I’m headed.”
“Oh goodie-goodie.” Gaz sneered. “Shame you totaled the car, otherwise I’d offer to give you a lift.”
“That’s okay,” came the reply as he followed her and G.I.R. back to the highway. “I probably would’ve just killed you and taken your car anyway.”
“That wasn’t my car. It was my brother’s.”
“Bet he’s going to be pissed when he finds out.”
“Not really. He’s a little dead at the moment.”
The maniac gave her a funny look but didn’t pry. After several hours of walking in silence, he spoke up.
“Johnny.”
“Eh?”
“We didn’t introduce ourselves,” he muttered. “I’m Johnny, but call me Nny. And you?”
“Gaz.” She gestured to the robot-dog perching parrot-like on her shoulder. “And this is G.I.R.”
Clutching its piggy, G.I.R. gave him a dirty look.
“Uh…yah.”
Another hour of quiet. Then it was Gaz’s turn to break the ice.
“Why, Nny?”
“Why kill the cashier?”
“No. That I can understand. I meant why go to Los Lobos?”
Johnny shook his head. “It’s…complicated. Let’s just say that I’m looking for a…eh, friend.”
“Right…” she answered, half-opening an eye.
“Dammit!” Johnny snapped. “I’m fucking sick of you bastards thinking that about me! He’s only fifteen for fuck’s sake! Just because I happen to break into his house and be nice enough to give the kid some advice now and then doesn’t mean I want to have the butt sex with him! In fact, the very concept of sex disgusts me, with all its fluids and grunting and touching… Besides, I have—uh, had a girlfriend, sort of… Okay, so maybe I did try to kill her, but that doesn’t mean I’m not heterosexual! Shit. Did I just use a double negative?”
“Yep.”
Yet more quiet appeared, this time lasting for a good ninety minutes.
Johnny shot a sudden glance at Gaz. “So, why are you going?”
She shrugged. “Like you said: It’s complicated. I’ll save you a really dumb story by saying that there’s something I need in Los Lobos.”
“Gotcha.”
Before the next stretch of silence can fall, a coupe full of drunken frat boys slowed down and pulled up alongside them.
“HEY, VAMPIRELLA!” shouted Frat Brother 1. “HOW ‘BOUT YOU DITCH THE DOUCHE-BUCKET AND PARTY WITH SOME REAL MEN!”
Gaz and Johnny pause, glancing at each other as they both came to the same conclusion.
- Three hours later…
“…so excessive…” Johnny groused as they turned off the highway onto a deserted gravel road.
“Admit it.” Gaz muttered, rifling through the shitty CDs for something listenable. “You laughed when that one guy’s stomach exploded.”
Johnny laughed softly. “Yah, that was kind of funny.”
Chucking the pop-laden garbage out the window, she looks up right as they come upon the outskirts of a ramshackle Mexican village. “Hey, Nny,” she rasped. “I think we’re here.”
‘Recepción a El Pueblo de Los Lobos. Población: 147, 83, 19, 3 0’ reads the sunbaked sign. Beneath that but just above what seemed to be a dead SWAT trooper, was scrawled in a reddish brown smudge, “RUN! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, RUN!”
Night’s came fast in rips of bloodied navy, making the village’s damaged El Día de los Muertos decorations into a surreal drive underneath vividly colored lights, lacy paper banners, and uncannily realistic skeletons dressed up in finery. Tattered streamers and bits of paper rolled along the oddly stained streets. The only place that seemed alive is the trashy, neon festooned bar. Avoiding the bikers swarming around out front, Johnny stealthily pulled the coupe behind the burnt out ruins of the church next-door.
“I’d say that’s about thirty.” Gaz mused as they watch the bikers disappear into the bar.
Counting to himself, Johnny mildly replies, “Thirty-eight, to be exact.”
She nodded grimly. “Probably triple that inside.”
“Yep.”
Gaz sighed. “I should’ve brought another shotgun.”
“Shotgun?” Johnny gaped at her. “Are you telling me you had a gun this whole time!”
“Actually, I have a sawed-off 12g, three American 180’s, and a Casull . 454 revolver, plus twelve different lengths of knives, some hatchets, three gallons of holy water, a crossbow, and some silver-capped ash stakes. And my baseball bat, of course.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Buffy Summers?”
“Buffy? Feh!” she scoffed, climbing out of the car. “I liked Anya better.”
When they were finished dividing up the weaponry and had stashed it handily but secretly about them, Gaz leaned into the backseat. “Now, G.I.R., this is going to get messy so I want you to stay and guard the car.”
“But I wanna go too, sir!” it wailed. “I promised Master that I’d make sure you’re okay! Besides, Johnny’s a bad man…”
“That’s an understatement…” Gaz grumbled. “Look G.I.R. It would make me happy if you stayed in the car. You do want me to be happy, don’t you G.I.R.?”
“I guess so…”
“Alright then.” She stepped away, adding over her shoulder, “If I’m not back by dawn, I want you to self-destruct.”
At the mention of exploding, the robot cried out happily.
She grinned. “That’s my ‘bot.”
Johnny glared at her as they walked across the now empty street. “A bad man?”
She shrugged. “Well, you did stab its piggy.”
“Good point.”
Stepping through the threshold, they both wince at the reeking blast of rancid beer, cheap cigars, and something quite rotten assailing their nostrils. At least the music blaring from the grimy jukebox was decent. The gathered freaks and monsters turn in unison, staring with malignant silence a moment before they’re satisfied that the newcomers are two of their own. Edgy, the pair went up the bar.
“Excuse me.” Johnny murmured when he saw a freakishly happy young man walk to the back and drop a boy, bound and gagged like some damsel in an old silent movie, onto the floor while to join in on a Grand Guignol style poker game.
Gaz watches indifferently as Johnny sat down beside the man and cheerfully started chatting with him. Snorting, she looked away and sights her own quarry laughing in the midst of her simpering courtiers. With a smirk of death on her lips, Gaz wanders lazily over to El Santanico.
((Tonight, I’m gonna have myself a real good time…))
“The gringo is complete without decency…” chuckled the Vampire Lord as she glanced at the now sweating but still smiling poker player. “He was a rapist and a serial killer in life, so fascinated by mindless death that he even tracked down a lunatic who massacred an entire fast-food restaurant because of some moron called him ‘wacky’. You know, the one serving Moose…” She sighed. “It is truly a shame that we couldn’t have gotten that one instead, but I suppose Jimmy will do…”
“Buena tarde, señora,” Gaz interrupted, pushing aside a poser vampire to set across from the Vampire Lord.
“You look familiar. Have I bitten you before?” came the snark.
“No. No you haven’t,” Gaz replied, ready for the opportune moment to strike.
“…you had no fucking right!” Johnny screamed in the background, then began babbling about not mutilating a kid’s dad.
“Lovely necklace. What sort of stone is that? A Yuggoth blood-ruby, perhaps?”
“Who the hell are you?” El Santanico snarled, her guards closing rank.
“A woman on a mission...”
Before El Santanico or her minions could react, a sanity-rending scream tore through the bar that was quickly followed by tentacles bursting forth from the floor.
((…and the world turning inside out…))
“Shit.” As the gathered monstrosities scattered, Gaz dodged her way through the writhing tentacles in pursuit of the Vampire Lord.
((Like a tiger, defying the laws of gravity…))
“Kill the bitch,” El Santanico hissed loudly, smirking down from the safety of the stripper’s catwalk.
Shifting into feral state, the nearest two vampires launched themselves at Gaz. They both looked rather surprised when she fell them with clip’s worth of exploding silver nitrate. The next couple of unholy thugs closed in when she tossed the pistol only to discover that silver-plated hatchets are not something you want lodged in your skull.
((Don’t stop me now, I’m having such a good time…))
Gaz busily tore apart another minion, too intent on reaching El Santanico to see the flailing tentacle come whipping toward her. She went flying across the barroom, smashing into the giant mirror behind the bar and tumbling down behind it in a bloody heap.
((…ready to reload…like an atom bomb about to…))
Cackling at their good fortune, the minions surged forward to finish her off. The first one over the bar exploded in a mass of viscera after catching two barrels full in the midsection.
Gaz jumped up on the bar, revolver in one hand and shotgun in the other, to deal with the rest. Blasting away, she made short work of the last minions
((I’m burning through the sky…))
The shelves of alcohol-laden bottles behind Gaz soon erupted from Johnny’s wild machine-gunning, adding a blazing wall of flames to the rest of the chaos. Unfazed by the “friendly” fire, she vaulted through the thrashing tentacle mayhem toward the Vampire Lord.
((I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!))
Leaping the stage, Gaz leveled the revolver at El Santanico only to have it knocked out of her hand. She hurriedly blocked the next claw swipe with the shotgun, leaving it severed neatly in half. Dropping the pieces, she switched to the emergency knives always stashed in her sleeves and met the vampire head-on in a vicious knife/claw fight.
((Have a good time… A good time…))
With her rage fueled slashing, Gaz drove her opponent backwards until she has El Santanico pinned to the wall with a blade through the belly. She reared back to decapitate the vampire.
“NO! YOU STUPID BITCH!” came the garbled scream as the happy freak wrapped his tentacles around Gaz, slamming her first into the ceiling and then the floor. As Jimmy the Would-be Lovecraftian Horror oozed toward Gaz, fates worse than death smirking from the mouths of his slimy new appendages. To his utter amazement, a series of gunshots soon rendered Jimmy both headless and lifeless.
“…squee…”
Gaz turned and saw the boy, now untied and ungagged, holding the revolver with a surprisingly steady hand while he kept pulling at the trigger even though he’d spent every cartridge in the gun. She crawled toward him, vaguely aware that this boy looked exactly like the cute stalker that had been following her for the past two years.
((…yes, I’m having a good time…))
“—KAR-SNAK!”
El Satanico’s head went spinning across the floor, hitting Gaz’s boot in an explosion of rotted dust.
“You okay, Squee?” came the rasp.
Glancing over her shoulder, Gaz saw Johnny standing over the heap that once was the Vampire Lord of Northern Mexico. The blood-ruby glinted forgotten in his hand.
“Squee?”
Gaz seized the boy and pushed the knife against his throat as she rounded on Johnny. “Give me it.”
He stared dumbly at her. “Give you what?”
“The stone! Give me the stone, or else…” Casually, she increased her pressure just enough to nick Squee.
“Fuck no!” Johnny shouted, waving a foot-long butcher’s knife at her as he catches on. “Let Squee go!”
“Toss me the stone first. Then you can have the kid.”
Johnny clenched the stone tighter in his hand. “You’d kill both of us if I do that!”
“And you’d kill me if I let him go.” she answered, hugging Squee closer.
“I promise not to…”
“You know I can’t believe that, Johnny.”
The seconds crept tensely by while the murderous pair stared each other down. A beam gave way and crashed nearby them as the fire surged wildly out of control.
“This place is about to go…” Johnny muttered in a mild growl.
“Okay then,” sneered Gaz above the crackle of bodies going up like matchsticks. “Let’s do this: You throw me the stone and I’ll throw you the kid at the same time. Then we run for it. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Gaz lobbed the shell-shocked Squee at Johnny the exact moment he hurled the blood-ruby toward her. Both caught their respective treasures and bolted out of the collapsing bar. When they had reached the safety of the ruined church, Johnny turned to Gaz.
“Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but if I ever, ever, ever see your face again, I’ll crave out that blacken lump of flesh you call a heart. Bye-bye now.” On that, he snapped back around and carried Squee to an abandoned station wagon nearby.
“Later, loser.” Gaz snarled, watching as Johnny drove away.
Exhausted and stinky, she walked back to the coupe where G.I.R. was laying sprawled out in the back seat.
“GAZ!” cried the robot happily, popping out the window to bear hug her.
Prying it off, Gaz climbed in behind the wheel and sat G.I.R. in the passenger seat. “Let’s go home.”
“Ah…but I never got any tacos.”
She frowned. “Fine. We’ll get some tacos, then go home.”
“HURRAY! TACOS!”
With that, they drove off into the rosy hued sunrise.

(a/n: V now owns JTHM: The Director’s Cut. I am a very, very happy fan girl now.)
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