Hey, I finally updated this.  I'm gonna miss writing it.  I think I'll be finishing the chain letter thing next.  When you're done reading this fic, go read that one!  Okay, I'm done with my shameless plugging for today.  You can read the end of the fic now.

Zim stepped into the lobby and looked around suspiciously.  It was devoid of life, except for a bored looking teenage girl sitting at the reception desk.  She was chewing gum loudly and painting her fingernails a lurid shade of red to match her lips.  She was paying no attention at all to Zim.  Zim eyed her warily, and turned to Gir.

            "Gir!" Zim ordered, "Gir, I need you to—Gir?"

            Gir was not in the lobby.  Gir was in the revolving glass door, happily pushing it in circles without the slightest inkling of how to get out of it.  When he came around again, Zim grabbed his leash and yanked him roughly out of it.

            "Let's do that again!" Gir yelled joyfully.

"No, Gir, we have no time for games.  The security of our base has been compromised!  Now come on."

He dragged Gir over to the reception desk.  The girl continued to crack her gum and paint her nails, refusing to acknowledge their existence.

Zim dropped Gir's leash and hopped up onto the desk.

"You!  Human desk-monkey!  Where can I find the telemarketers?"

The girl inspected her nails one last time, then turned to look down her nose at Zim.

"There are, like, no animals, like, allowed in the building.  You'll have to, like, leave that green, like, thing, like, outside."

"Nonsense," Zim replied, trying to think of a reason the stink-girl should allow Gir inside, "Gir's my…uh…my…one of those things…that humans that can't see use to…uh…help them."

"Oh, like, you mean a seeing-eye, like, dog?"

"Yeeesss, that's it."

"Like, well, okay mister, but you still, like, need, like, an appointment."

 "WHAT?!  You still deny me entrance to the telemarketers?  You know not the powers with which you are dealing!  DO NOT INVOKE THE WRATH OF THE IRKEN ELITE!"

"Like, if you don't, like, get an appointment, and, like, cool it a little, mister, I'm gonna have to, like, call, like, security on you."

"Grrrrrrr.  Forget these stupid human conventions!  Let's go Gir!"

He jumped off the desk, snatched Gir's leash, and marched into the elevator.  He pressed the button for the 20th floor.

The receptionist picked up a phone sitting on the desk.

"Hello, like, security?  There's this, like, old blind dude, like, trying to get into the building.  He doesn't have, like, an appointment."

Inside the elevator, Zim's nerves were becoming a little frayed.  Watching Gir dancing and singing along to the already annoying elevator music wasn't helping.  Around the 15th floor, Zim's eye began to twitch.  Halfway between the 19th and 20th floors, the elevator stuck.  Thankfully, the music also stopped.

"Awwwww, where'd the music go?"

"Quiet, Gir, I think we've stopped moving."

He tried to pry open the door.

"Gaaahhh!  Stupid human door!  Gir, use your lasers to cut it open!"

" 'Kay!"

The top of Gir's head slid away.  A flood of floor wax, junk mail, and Styrofoam packing peanuts shot out of his head.

"Aaaahhhh!  Gir!  What are you doing?!"

"I don't knooooow."

"I said lasers, not…not…Grrrrrrr."

The speakers in the elevator started abruptly.  But instead of playing music they were transmitting an announcement.


The speakers went dead again.

"Gir!  Use your lasers!  NOW!"

Gir saluted.  "Yes, my master."

Gir managed to weld a hole through the ceiling of the elevator.  Zim used the spider legs in his backpod to hoist himself and Gir through the opening.  They clambered up an elevator cable to the 20th floor.  Gir cut another hole with his lasers to allow them access to the floor.

Zim surveyed his new surroundings with distaste.  The large floor was divided up into 50 or so small, walled in areas.  Each area contained a desk, chair, computer, and one human.  The humans were all wearing headsets, which they were all jabbering into rapidly.  The noise was deafening.  Zim assumed these were the telemarketers. 

He eyed their computers with interest.

"Gir, we need access to a telemarketer's computer consol.  Then we can access their database and delete our house from its memory."


Zim's eyes narrowed as he gazed around the room, trying to devise a way to separate a telemarketer from his or her computer.  No opportunities immediately presented themselves.  He would just have to create his own opportunities.

"Gir!  Go use your advanced diversion tactics to distract that human!"

"Yes sir!"

Gir trotted off towards the nearest cubicle.  A skinny, harried looking man with pale skin and enormous bags under his eyes was babbling into his headset.

"Hello, I'm a representative of the Le Grosse Derriere Poofy French Stuff, calling to offer you the chance to experience our fabulous new product!"

The 'click' was audible as the person on the other end hung up.

Gir approached the telemarketer.

"Hiiiiiii!!" he yelled.

The telemarketer stared.  "Um, what?"

"Hiiiiiiii!!" Gir said again.

The telemarketer stared some more, not sure how to deal with actual communication outside of a phone line.

"I like you," Gir told him happily. 

The telemarketer didn't respond.

"I wanted to see the monkey!"

The telemarketer's eyes crossed and he passed out from sheer confusion and sensory overload.  He wasn't used to talking to and looking at a person simultaneously.

Zim hurried over to the desk.

"Good work Gir!"

Zim started tapping at the keyboard.  He managed to access the database, and began a search for his name.  The computer seemed to take an intolerably long time to process his request.  After a lot of unnecessary clanking, whirring, and beeping, the computer displayed Zim's name on its screen.  Zim quickly deleted it.

"YES!" he crowed, leaping onto the desk.  "Another amazing victory for me, ZIM!  They can't bug me into buying stuff now!"

He froze, as he realized the room had gone completely silent.  All the telemarketers were staring openmouthed at Zim.

"He…he said 'buy'," one of them said incredulously.

"They must be customers!"

"Let's get 'em!"

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"  Zim screamed in terror as every telemarketer on the 20th floor started towards him, eager to sell their useless products.

"Buy from me!  Free steak knives with every order!"

"No, buy this!  20 CDs for the price of one!  And you could win a free ice cream scoop!"

"Order from here!  We'll exchange your boring old $100 bills for shiny new pennies!  Only $999999.99!"


"Heeheeheeheehee!  Look master!  They liiiiike you!"

Zim ran for the elevator, realized it was blocked, and swerved towards the stairwell.  He raced down the stairs, pursued by 50 crazed telemarketers.  In his panic, he had completely forgotten about security.  Ten floors down, halfway to escape, he remembered.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!  Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh—Uh-oh."

Zim and Gir plowed straight into 7 heavily armed security guys.  The nearest one grabbed Zim in one hand and Gir in the other.

"Hey Gen'ral, I think I caught the intruders!"

  The General came over to look.  He was not in a good mood, because he hated being a security guard.  He used to be a real general in the military, until a freak giant hamster incident cost him his job.  He smacked the guy who had spoken in the back of the head.

"How many times have I told you not to call me 'General'?"

"Sorry, Gener—sir."

The General fixed his eyes on Zim.  "Do you have an appoint—Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

Just as the General was about to begin interrogating Zim, the telemarketers came rushing down the stairs.  They also plowed into the security team.  The end result was that all 57 humans plus Zim and Gir tumbled down 10 flights of stairs and rolled into the lobby.  In the confusion, Zim snuck to the door, dragging Gir behind him.

The same Valley Girl receptionist from earlier was still at the front desk.  Finished with her nails, she was now applying excessive amounts of mascara.  She looked up at the commotion.

"Hey, look!  It's like, that blind dude, from, like, before, that didn't have, like, an appointment."

Zim dashed through the revolving glass doors.  Unfortunately, he dashed a little too hard.  The doors spun around one, two, three times, and flung him back out into the lobby.

The mob of people in the lobby had begun to disentangle themselves.  They all began to move toward him, yelling either threats or sales pitches (or both, depending on how cheesed off the telemarketer was).

Zim and Gir ran through the doors again, more slowly this time.  They emerged outside.  Gir was giggling madly.

Zim pulled him along down the street until they were a safe distance away.  He leaned against a streetlight to rest.

"We've won, Gir.  Our mission is safe.  One more victory for the Irken Empire against these disgusting humans.  Let's go home."

"Can I have a brainfreezie now?"

"Yes, I suppose."

Wow, I finally finished this!  Yay!  *sniff*  I'm gonna miss it.  Thanks to everyone who reviewed!  The Poofy French Stuff company and free steak knives belong to Flipside.  The exchanging bills for loose change thing is Katterree's idea, and the 20 CDs for the price of one thing is Invader Ally's.  Read and review, please!