"American Idiot"

-

Don't want to be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new media
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mind fuck America.

-

Dib stared down at the street beneath him. How could he have been so blind? These people didn't want his help, never had, never would. He still would save them though. He had promised himself that a long time ago.

"Are you going to help or not?" Gaz yelled up at him. His sister had grown, thinking little about anyone else and mostly about herself still, but that made her realize she had to do things for others to get what she wanted at time. She didn't seem to care about the world's danger either.

"In a bit!" he shouted down, still staring at all of the people and cars below. All of the noise created below wafted up quickly and even could be heard through the thick glass. He did not want to be anything like them, but it didn't mean he didn't want to help them. If just to prove himself.

-

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Where everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.

-

What is Zim doing? Dib wondered, though he wondered why he bothered to spend so much thought on it. After Zim's leaders had banished him to earth, they had become some sort of a pair, if you could even call them friends. There was no one else he could call a friend; but then again, Zim was to bored to keep still and every once in a while tried to take over earth for no reason. Zim told him once he had to keep his Invader skills at top notch. Being an Invader was his excuse for everything. But even before Zim stopped taking over earth seriously, he had too much in his way to do more then just delay the inevitable. The protection of earth was just a dream, just out of his grasp. It isn't fair, but then again, what is?

"Never mind, we'll come back tomorrow," Gaz came up to the attic of the store they were helping clean out. "With you daydreaming all the time, I'm doing all the work. If I'm doing all the work, I'm getting paid for all of it, got it?"

Dib turned towards her. "Okay Gaz, you get all of the money."

"That's a quick way to give up," she smirked.

"I'm leaving and not going home."

"Not home?" she questioned, though all she did was turn on her Game Slave. "After to Zim's house, right?" Dib refrained a sigh. She didn't seem to think anything was different then before.

"No."

She looked up and eyed him. "Then where?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. He headed for the door, grabbing his jacket. "But I need something to happen. It's not at home. I'm tired of going through the same motions over and over."

"So am I and you don't see me running away," Gaz looked at him strangely.

"I won't give up. Not now. I feel like this is the right direction. See ya, Gaz," and he left her, just watching his retreating back.

-
Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along to the age of paranoia.

-

--One Week Later--

"Watch it kid!" Dib was shoved into a wall, again. Dib kept himself from retorting, as he felt like doing so often. He had not been gone that long! How could this be wearing on him already? The city rumbled with its noise, screaming in actual silence. Any sound heard meant nothing and the things meant to say were kept hidden. It didn't take Dib that long to figure that out, though it seemed as if he was the only one who had.

"Does one have to go into politics to get what they want across?" he muttered under his breath, lighting a cigarette. Gaz had tried to threaten him into quitting, but as she wasn't around Dib didn't have to worry anymore. He ducked into another alleyway to hide from the scientist that was walking down the street, apparently looking for something. Dib figured Gaz would stay quiet, waiting for him to decide to come home, but sooner or later his father would realize that he was gone and would search for him. Dib really didn't want to be found.

He had known people to be this way, but only now could it hit home. That did not weaken his resolve however. It actually made it stronger then it had been before.

-

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Where everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.

-

"Life being hell?" asked a man who was also in the alley way.

"Tell me about it," Dib sighed, sliding down against the wall. "I didn't think that I would be doing that bad out here by myself."

"Runaway, huh?" the man laughed, scratching his messy dark brown hair. "Been there, friend. Everyone thinks that when they first go out, for good reason or no. But it's always the weak ones who run back home."

"I'm not running anywhere," Dib told him, "I'll find my own way around here. Wait a sec- why are you the first person to be anywhere close to kind to me, when I've seen so many people in the past week that I both know and don't?"

"Probably didn't think a poorer person would, right?" he laughed. "Apparently when you're poor, you've done something wrong. I understand what you're going through, though most likely not the same situation. No one goes through the same situation. But there is a certain point in life where your troubles can't be solved by parents, friends, or siblings, and you go off to figure it out yourself."

"They even get in the way," Dib agreed, looking up at the other. "They were stopping me from what I was trying to do... and now from what I need to do."

"And what was that?" the alley man pulled something out of his pocket and put it in a pipe.

"I'm not exactly sure," Dib sighed again. "I thought I was doing it for one thing, but it doesn't seem to be that important in the long run, though I know it should. I think I'm doing this more for me then the world, as I thought I was in the first place."

-
Don't want to be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information age of hysteria.
It's calling out to idiot America.

-

"Finding out you're self centered," he laughed again. Dib glared at him, figuring that this guy really didn't understand like he thought he did. "Don't worry. There is a point in life where you think you are doing something for someone else and you find out you're only doing this for yourself. Not a huge problem."

"Except if you're my sister," Dib snorted. "Maybe someday she'll wake up and find out that she's doing something for someone else, other than herself. That would be worth watching, but highly improbable."

"Nothing is impossible though," the man leaned over him and handed him the pipe. "If you think about it hard enough and not with all of those restrictions that life puts on it. Just think with the clear mind." He gestured to the sack and the pipe and left. "Especially if you don't want to be like everyone else."

-
Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alien nation.
Where everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue.

-

"I don't want to be like anyone else," Dib looked over the pipe. "I'm not an idiot."

Alien's wouldn't rule, they would be noticed. He would be understood, respected for who he was. His dream was not unreachable.

Dib inhaled.

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This one wasn't very good, but it had to set up the next twelve chapters, so even if you hated this one, please at least read the next. It goes in the order of the Green Day album "American Idiot" so if you want to know what the next chapter is called, look at your CD. After that, you'll realize that the next chapter is going to be really long.