He made his way down the street, pursuing the calm figure with deadly intensity. He slipped behind a telephone pole as the slim person rounded the corner, heading for home.

His prey was almost back to its lair when he jumped out, laughing maniacally.

“I’ve got you now, Zim!”

“Hi, Dib!” his quarry replied with a benign smile.

Dib just stared at him, seeming faintly disgusted.

“Cut the crap, Zim. What are you up to?”

“I’m just going home, Dib. Do you want to come in? We can watch TV,” Zim- or what looked like Zim- replied, unperturbed.

Dib frowned.

“I’m not stupid, Zim,” he snapped, voice loaded with enough venom to kill an elephant. “I’m not falling for your stupid trap.”

“What trap?” Zim replied mildly.

Dib scowled at his… enemy. Zim just gave him that horrible mild look in return.

They remained at a stalemate until Dib felt a tug on his arm.

“Let’s go, Dib.”

“Not yet, Gaz! He’s- cracking!” Dib replied, eyes widening to give the staredown a psychotic quality.

“NOW, Dib,” Gaz snarled in reply, dragging her brother away.

“I’ll have you yet, Zim!” Dib called before rounding the corner against his will.

Zim- or what looked like Zim- shook his head, chuckling.

“Ah, that crazy Dib and his crazy games. Cute kid.”

Zim calmly made his way into his odd green home, sitting down on the couch and turning the TV on.

He sat there for a good hour and a half, part of which involved the Scary Monkey show, seemingly unfazed by anything he saw. The only thing that might betray possible boredom was the occasional twitching of an eyelid. That, and an occasional glance at the empty stretch of couch next to him, accompanied by a slight frown that might be wistful, or even guilty.

Finally, Zim hopped off the couch, yawning and stretching. He headed into the kitchen and approached the refrigerator.

Opening the door, he frowned at the big, gaping hole that led underground. He shook his head and shut the door.

He glanced at the refrigerator door, uncomprehending for a moment. Then his eyes widened at what he saw.

The reflection was not his. Was it? The shape was the same, and the green skin, but those wide, pupilless magenta eyes and thick, black antennae were NOT his. Definitely not! And yet, he knew this reflection. He knew it well.

“Hello, Zim,” it said calmly, though the eyes were narrowed with contained rage. “Well. Look at you. Normal boy, eh?”

“Go away!” Zim snapped at the horrible picture. “Get off my fridge!”

“You know I can’t do that,” the face replied.

“Shut up!” Zim snapped, taking a step back.

“You disgust me,” the hateful not-reflection said in a low tone. “Groveling before the humans, pleading for acceptance. Remember what you are, Zim.”

“I know what I am,” Zim snapped in reply. “I’m human. I- AM- HUMAN!”

He turned his back and fled, crawling back onto the couch and curling up in a ball, staring at the TV without really seeing the images that flashed by.

---

The next day, he left the house and headed for the curb, humming a tune and holding his books to his chest with a schoolgirl-ish air about him.

When he turned the corner, there was Dib.

“Hello, Dib,” Zim chirped.

Dib scowled at him.

“I know what you’re up to, Zim!” he bluffed, having found this tactic highly effective in the past. “It’s the rubber chickens!”

He knew there were no rubber chickens, but usually making a wrong accusation led Zim to laugh scornfully in his face and spill the details of his real evil plan. Not so today.

“You and your little games,” Zim said in an almost affectionate tone, heading around Dib and continuing calmly on his way.

Dib watched him, becoming frustrated with this out-of-character behavior. He ran to catch up with Zim.

”Okay. I get it. You’re playing mind games! Well, they won’t work!”

Zim continued to smile vacantly and hum to himself, ignoring Dib. Dib seethed for a moment, then his eyes fell on a nearby puddle. It had rained last night.

Dib spitefully jumped in the puddle, liberally spattering Zim. However, instead of writhing on the ground, smoking and squealing, he dropped his books, giggled and splashed Dib back.

Dib gave him a look half scornful, half sad, and turned to leave. Zim watched him go, then bent to pick up his books.

As he did so, he noticed the puddle had re-formed, allowing a reflection.

The magenta eyes were wide with rage, serrated teeth clenched and antennae flattened.

“What are you doing?” the voice hissed, anger dripping off every word. “That was DIB! He is your enemy! You don’t LAUGH and SPLASH IN PUDDLES! Don‘t you remember how you would pace at night and plot your victory? Fantasize about how your claws would sink into-”

“Shut up!” Zim snapped at the face, his own features beginning to reflect its rage. “I don’t remember any of this! I don’t even have claws! You don’t know anything about me! GO AWAY!”

The face seemed more upset then angry now, tone pleading-

“You’re better than they are, Zim. You’re not a human. Remember who you are! Remember who we are!”

“We who?” Zim laughed scornfully. “I don’t know you.”

And he turned his back on the puddle and left for skool.
---

“The adult wasp lays its eggs directly into the meats of the caterpillar. The eggs later hatch and begin to devour their host from the inside, leaving the vital organs for-”

Zim had lost interest. He doodled languidly on the paper, face dull and blank like so many others in the room.

The pencil tip moved lazy around the page, forming swirls, scallops, and an unusually large-headed version of Dib, before it suddenly hovered above the paper for a moment, then dove downwards to swiftly and surely sketch a polygonal face, antennae protruding from the back of the head like horns, large, gemlike eyes narrowed in frustration.

Zim glanced down at the page and his jaw dropped.

“You,” he whispered softly.

“Look at them,” the voice whispered. “They were yours. Your puppets, yours to toy with, mock, eventually destroy.”

“I don’t know you,” Zim hissed angrily.

“Remember the feeling. Remember how you watched Sentilla 6 being brought to its knees when you were only a smeet. Remember how you swore you would become an Invader if it killed you.”

“I don’t remember,” Zim replied haughtily.

“They can always take your rank. They can even take your life. You’ve seen it. But no one can take you. They can’t.”

“No one has,” Zim seethed. “I’m fine. I’m human. I’m normal. I’ve always- been- NORMAL!”

He turned away in scorn, then suddenly noticed everyone in the room was staring at him and probably thinking he was on crack.

He stared back for a moment, then suddenly said “I must use the restroom,” and bolted from the room.

“Me too,” Dib said automatically, and sprinted from the room.

Ms. Bitters scowled at the rest of the children.

“You- CHILDREN with your RESTROOM!”

She pointed at a random student.

“YOU!”

“Y-yes, Ms. Bitters?”

“Write a 1,000 word report on why children who go the bathroom are DOOMED!”

---

Zim ran into the bathroom and sat down in the corner of the room, knees pulled into his chest and face buried in his arms.

“That’s not me,” he swore to himself. “That was never me.”

“I’m still you,” he heard and looked up, eyes wide, to see the hated red-eyed face staring at him out of the mirror.

“NO! YOU LIE! YOU LI-I-IE!” Zim screamed, bounding over and slapping the mirror. His claws grazed the glass, leaving two shallow gashes in its smooth surface, but the horrible face remained unfazed.

“Listen, you may not be an Invader anymore. Maybe you never were,” the face insisted. “But you are Irken! The Tallest can‘t take that away!”

“Irken? Tallest? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zim insisted in a dangerous tone, eyes narrowing. “I’m normal. I’ve always. Been normal.”

He turned away, but the voice spoke again.

“You will never be normal.”

Zim looked over his shoulder, snarling.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“You know who I am,” the face replied, sad.

“It’s not possible,” Zim protested. “Those eyes are not mine. Those things on your head are not mine. I‘m a human boy, I always have been.”

“You don’t have human parents.”

“I’m an orphan.”

“Your clothes are different.”

“I have better fashion sense.”

The face just stared at him sadly.

Zim shook his head. “No.”

The face’s sad look did not change, and Zim found his hand rising to his head. He pulled it back down and shook his head again. “No.”

The face turned away, closing its eyes sorrowfully.

Zim bowed his head. The wig slid right off.

“No,” he said, staring uncomprehendingly at the hairy black mass on the floor.

His hand rose slowly to his head, and he touched-

He looked up, eyes wide.

The face in the mirror gave him a knowing look.

---

Dib entered the restroom, looking around with narrowed eyes.

“I know you’re in here, Zim,” he called, striding forward. He stepped on something and looked down to see two abandoned contacts and a wig.

He frowned and looked up, surveying the room. He went over and checked the stalls to find no sign of the self-proclaimed alien menace.

He looked over his shoulder, still frowning.

“Where is he?” he muttered, walking out of the room.

Zim didn’t show up for class all day. He wasn’t on the playground at recess, he wasn’t in the cafeteria. He wasn’t at skool the next day either, or the next.

One day, Dib opened the door to find GIR standing there, looking the worse for the wear. He came in silently, started watching TV with Gaz, and never went home.

And Zim was never seen again.

Not by Dib, not by GIR, not by the Tallest, not by anyone.

I made sure of that.

I am normal after all, you see.

You'll all see.