Hey Spacejerk,
Have to admit, I was surprised the city stayed as normal as it usually gets this week. Then again, I guess you were pretty busy trying to figure out my world-ending clues. I never did find out if Irkens need sleep, but even I can tell you look like hell on the spycams.
Oh yeah, I'm still watching. You did a good job purging most of them, but you missed a few. Bet you can't figure out where.
It's funny how I don't know whether Irkens need sleep but I know every last button you have and how to push them. I can even say things just like that in these letters that any human would understand in an instant, but you take the wrong meaning from. And you take it with such precision as to be somewhat predictable. I'm laughing at you, Zim.
Three weeks, now. Most of the boxes are unpacked. Gaz enrolled in the local Hi-Skool to finish out senior year. Me, I'm not sure what to do, yet. Dad wants me to start at Colledge University and finally learn Real Science. Like I don't understand Real Science already. Does Real Science talk about why our new house has a little ghost trapped in the house walls that tells sad stories at night? Does Real Science explain how Bigfoot's feet got to be so huge? Does Real Science tell me why I was cursed with a nemesis from outer space?
No, no, and no.
I think Real Science is the trophy wife my Dad brought home and always wanted us to call Mom, and it's just not going to happen. Mostly because he's never home, anyway.
Heh, good luck figuring all that out. I'll give you a hint: Try comprehending what a metaphor is, then read again. But I still think you'll fail. Pretty sure, from snippets you've dropped over the years, that Irkens don't have families.
-Dib
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Hey Spacejerk
FanfictionHey Spacejerk. Good job burning down my house. Were you hoping I'd have to move? Congratulations. But that's not going to stop me from spending my every living breathing second monitoring you. And sending you mail through a system you're too dumb to...
