a/n: First Invader story, I hope I did ok. I hope Dib is in character...well, oh well. Happy New Year!
Emo is so Last Semester
The chants were no where close to over by the time he walks out of the freshman hall and out the school doors. Emo boy, Emo boy, little Emo boy. Dib wasn't entirely sure of a perspective on this fashion trend he seemed to be religiously following. Cut your wrist, listen to whiny bands, and pout about the world…that wasn't him. He didn't feel sorry for himself. He didn't believe in self righteous suicide. He knew there was more to life than feeling bad for himself.
Yet everyone tended to call him Emo Boy. At least it was better that 'Pussy Wussy' or 'Queer'. Dib had advanced to a stage in life where sticks and stones were more than a life style and having just his sister to talk too seemed ok. He had his theories on the world and the creatures that resided in it, the rest of the plant had theirs. He didn't feel guilty when he didn't attend church or school dances. Instead, he tended to lean more towards the 'Let's spy on Zim!'
If that wasn't creeping anyone out by now, he wasn't sure what would. About the time he had reach puberty he finally saw that constant thoughts about the little alien life form may not be normal. But Dib couldn't help but notice that Zim was turning into quite the young man…erm…or was disguising himself as quite the young man.
After reaching home and tearing off his jacket, he looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't look darkish...he didn't look dorkish…he didn't look emo…then what was he? Normal, sheesh, no. Abnormal, well, not exactly.
Sighing, he threw on a large gray hoodie and threw himself on his bed. He was getting too tall for his own good. His feet started to hang from the edge of the bed and his pants were too short. Come to think of it, Zim was getting tall too. It was odd, since Zim had basically shorter about a head than the class.
He hit his forehead and tried to ignore thoughts of Zim. If he was going to think about the Irken, it better be about Zim's constant chatter about the armada or the invasion or the destruction. Not about how tall he was. That was seriously unnecessary information.
But every time Zim's name was mention, or he watched a big budget invasion movie more than likely starring a big name actor with five nose jobs and a bit of a psycho problem, emotions ran multicolored. His palms sweat, his eyes blinked, his mouth watered, his legs wobbled, his knees buckled, his ears popped, his stomach churned, his lungs compressed, and his heart swelled.
Looking up at the UFO posters on his ceiling and a little crack filled with glue that looked like a bunny, he wondered what the definition of emo actually was. Taking down his 'Modern Slang for a Modern Man', he looked up the word. Ignoring the references to 'emo bands' and 'emo fashion', he found the term. It was quite short for being so powerful, but it was right to the point.
Emo equal letting your emotions show.
Smiling, he let the book fall to the ground. Well…if emo simply meant letting your emotions show, than he must be the little Emo Boy everyone called him. And he too wasn't upset about it either.