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Description

Summary: An Invader Zim one-shot, part of a collection of unusual pairings. Gaz wonders why she bothers with an annoying weekly ritual.
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"And on one half I want cheese, and on the other I want peppers, and pineapples, and beans..."
"Oh, I'm sorry, we actually don't offer—"
"AAGGHH! AAAAGGGGHHHH!"
"Um—sir, sir, please, just calm—"
"AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!"
"Alright, alright! Jeez..."
The waitress walked away, shaking her head, and GIR instantly calmed down, giving a cheerful smile that went unseen through the head of his human suit. Gaz put her face in her hand, and GIR thought that she looked a lot like her brother did when dealing with his master.
"You're so stupid," she muttered, shaking her head.
GIR looked politely confused, his blue eyes shining out from his costume's dark mouth. Gaz rolled her eyes and looked away. GIR shrugged and began to play with his silverware, engaging his knife and fork in an epic battle, making quiet laser sounds that were almost inaudible over the loud noise of the restaurant.
Friday was one of the busiest nights at Bloaty's, full of weary parents and their screeching children, with costumed servers bustling amid the crowd trying to fill their orders. The whole scene reeked of chaos, infringing on Gaz and her natural need for order. Again she wondered why she didn't just order her precious pizza at home, but she shoved that thought away, angrily resisting further analysis. She wanted to eat out, so she was going to eat out, and if anyone wanted to challenge that decision she would destroy them, even if the questioner was her own self-analysis.
Their drinks came. GIR stopped playing with his silverware and squealed in delight. Gaz took a sip of her soda; GIR threw the whole glass into the mouth of his costume, then burped loudly.
Why
this seemed preferable to home was another question Gaz didn't want to examine too closely.
Gaz was at home, alone, at least half of the days in any given week. Dad would still be at work; Dib was usually fighting Zim, or chasing Bigfoot, or meeting with his stupid "Eyeball" friends, or some other stupid activity that at least managed to get him out of Gaz's hair for a while. And usually she liked being alone. But even she got sick of the big, empty house sometimes. And for some reason, even though she always vowed "Thursday next week," that "sometimes" always seemed to fall on Friday nights.
Even though Gaz liked to have pizza on Friday nights (even more so than on other nights.)
And even though she knew it was chaotic and crowded at Bloaty's, the exact way Gaz didn't like it.
And even though she knew that if she didn't get there early, they would run out of free tables.
Which would force her to share with someone.
Gaz gave GIR a look. He blinked and stared back at her, giving a cheerful little wave.
He annoyed her. Really he did.
And yet, every Friday night, he was her only companion. Not her father, not her brother, him.
It was so stupid, Gaz thought.
"You're so stupid," Gaz said again.
"YUP!"
"What are you even doing here every week anyway?"
"Eatin' pizza!"
"No. I mean—" Gaz looked around as though hoping to find the words she wanted hovering around her, then looked back at him. "Why are you here every week? The last six weeks in a row, I wind up sharing a table with you every Friday night. Shouldn't you be helping Zim dissect my brother or something?"
"I like the pizza!"
Gaz was starting to get annoyed now, which was neither difficult nor safe. "But don't you get pizza any other days?" she asked, her eye twitching.
"But you're not here on other days!"
"What? ! But what does that...?"
She stared at him, anger replaced by confusion. Once again GIR only stared back.
The pizza came. GIR screamed in delight (causing a woman at the next table to spill soda down her shirt) and grabbed a slice off of his overcrowded half, shoving the whole thing directly into his mouth. Gaz took a piece from her saner, cheesier portion and bit in, ecstasy flowing through her as the delicious sauce flowed onto her tongue.
Gaz was a glutton, but she was at least a slow glutton; GIR, on the other hand, had finished his half by the time Gaz finished two slices. As usual he remained seated, watching her eat—once or twice he started to reach for one of Gaz's pieces, but one sharp look was enough to dissuade him for at least a few seconds.
After a few minutes (which felt like forever to GIR) Gaz finished. She dropped her last crust onto her plate amid a pile of others. GIR trembled excitedly; Gaz rolled her eyes and passed the plate to him, and for the next ten seconds he eagerly gobbled them up.
"MMM! I love this place."
Though his face was otherwise hidden, Gaz could see that his eyes were closed in gleeful excitement. He was insane, of course, but there was still something oddly...nice about another person who appreciated pizza as much as she did. Dib, the heathen lunatic that he was, had been known to pass it up for Chinese food sometimes.
The bill came, and GIR threw a bunch of money merrily at the waitress, not even waiting for Gaz to pay her usual share. She wondered, vaguely, how the little robot got that money; maybe he stole it from someone on the way there? She knew that asking would never render a cogent answer.
Gaz pushed out her chair and stood up, preparing to walk away without another word. GIR prevented this.
"See you next week? !"
She paused, turning back to him. His eyes were closed in what was no doubt a look of joy again. Gaz rolled her own eyes.
"...Sure."
"EEEEE!"
Gaz turned and marched out of the restaurant.
Well.
Maybe there was a reason for these stupid trips out after all.

Description

Summary: An Invader Zim one-shot, part of a collection of unusual pairings. Gaz wonders why she bothers with an annoying weekly ritual.
________________________________________________________________________________________
"And on one half I want cheese, and on the other I want peppers, and pineapples, and beans..."
"Oh, I'm sorry, we actually don't offer—"
"AAGGHH! AAAAGGGGHHHH!"
"Um—sir, sir, please, just calm—"
"AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!"
"Alright, alright! Jeez..."
The waitress walked away, shaking her head, and GIR instantly calmed down, giving a cheerful smile that went unseen through the head of his human suit. Gaz put her face in her hand, and GIR thought that she looked a lot like her brother did when dealing with his master.
"You're so stupid," she muttered, shaking her head.
GIR looked politely confused, his blue eyes shining out from his costume's dark mouth. Gaz rolled her eyes and looked away. GIR shrugged and began to play with his silverware, engaging his knife and fork in an epic battle, making quiet laser sounds that were almost inaudible over the loud noise of the restaurant.
Friday was one of the busiest nights at Bloaty's, full of weary parents and their screeching children, with costumed servers bustling amid the crowd trying to fill their orders. The whole scene reeked of chaos, infringing on Gaz and her natural need for order. Again she wondered why she didn't just order her precious pizza at home, but she shoved that thought away, angrily resisting further analysis. She wanted to eat out, so she was going to eat out, and if anyone wanted to challenge that decision she would destroy them, even if the questioner was her own self-analysis.
Their drinks came. GIR stopped playing with his silverware and squealed in delight. Gaz took a sip of her soda; GIR threw the whole glass into the mouth of his costume, then burped loudly.
Why
this seemed preferable to home was another question Gaz didn't want to examine too closely.
Gaz was at home, alone, at least half of the days in any given week. Dad would still be at work; Dib was usually fighting Zim, or chasing Bigfoot, or meeting with his stupid "Eyeball" friends, or some other stupid activity that at least managed to get him out of Gaz's hair for a while. And usually she liked being alone. But even she got sick of the big, empty house sometimes. And for some reason, even though she always vowed "Thursday next week," that "sometimes" always seemed to fall on Friday nights.
Even though Gaz liked to have pizza on Friday nights (even more so than on other nights.)
And even though she knew it was chaotic and crowded at Bloaty's, the exact way Gaz didn't like it.
And even though she knew that if she didn't get there early, they would run out of free tables.
Which would force her to share with someone.
Gaz gave GIR a look. He blinked and stared back at her, giving a cheerful little wave.
He annoyed her. Really he did.
And yet, every Friday night, he was her only companion. Not her father, not her brother, him.
It was so stupid, Gaz thought.
"You're so stupid," Gaz said again.
"YUP!"
"What are you even doing here every week anyway?"
"Eatin' pizza!"
"No. I mean—" Gaz looked around as though hoping to find the words she wanted hovering around her, then looked back at him. "Why are you here every week? The last six weeks in a row, I wind up sharing a table with you every Friday night. Shouldn't you be helping Zim dissect my brother or something?"
"I like the pizza!"
Gaz was starting to get annoyed now, which was neither difficult nor safe. "But don't you get pizza any other days?" she asked, her eye twitching.
"But you're not here on other days!"
"What? ! But what does that...?"
She stared at him, anger replaced by confusion. Once again GIR only stared back.
The pizza came. GIR screamed in delight (causing a woman at the next table to spill soda down her shirt) and grabbed a slice off of his overcrowded half, shoving the whole thing directly into his mouth. Gaz took a piece from her saner, cheesier portion and bit in, ecstasy flowing through her as the delicious sauce flowed onto her tongue.
Gaz was a glutton, but she was at least a slow glutton; GIR, on the other hand, had finished his half by the time Gaz finished two slices. As usual he remained seated, watching her eat—once or twice he started to reach for one of Gaz's pieces, but one sharp look was enough to dissuade him for at least a few seconds.
After a few minutes (which felt like forever to GIR) Gaz finished. She dropped her last crust onto her plate amid a pile of others. GIR trembled excitedly; Gaz rolled her eyes and passed the plate to him, and for the next ten seconds he eagerly gobbled them up.
"MMM! I love this place."
Though his face was otherwise hidden, Gaz could see that his eyes were closed in gleeful excitement. He was insane, of course, but there was still something oddly...nice about another person who appreciated pizza as much as she did. Dib, the heathen lunatic that he was, had been known to pass it up for Chinese food sometimes.
The bill came, and GIR threw a bunch of money merrily at the waitress, not even waiting for Gaz to pay her usual share. She wondered, vaguely, how the little robot got that money; maybe he stole it from someone on the way there? She knew that asking would never render a cogent answer.
Gaz pushed out her chair and stood up, preparing to walk away without another word. GIR prevented this.
"See you next week? !"
She paused, turning back to him. His eyes were closed in what was no doubt a look of joy again. Gaz rolled her own eyes.
"...Sure."
"EEEEE!"
Gaz turned and marched out of the restaurant.
Well.
Maybe there was a reason for these stupid trips out after all.