Zim tugged harshly at a leash in an attempt to stop his tiny, robot slave.
"But I want tacos!" GIR pleaded while choking violently from the force of a collar around his throat.
"We need to get out of here, it's far too cold and too dirty for me to remain healthy!" The alien hissed, already growing pale.
Snow was spread across the city floor, and the whole planet seemed to be gathering around an ice-rink, eager to skate.
"I'LL MAKE YOU TACOS AT HO-" Zim started a coughing fit. When he finally was able to catch his breath, the green-skinned boy slowly growled: "Now listen to your master."
GIR's shoulders, eyes, antenna, wrists, and belly grew red underneath his doggy disguise. "Yes, Master!"
With a cloud of smoke, the two were off into the sky; heading home.
Zim curled himself into a blanket, shivering despite the over-heated base.
"Chocolate?" GIR offered, showing him a cup full of hot-chocolate with a waffle inside.
"No.." The alien sniffled. This stupid planet has gotten me sick.. And there's no medications designed for my kind and this planet.. Zim shuddered. What if I don't make it? My body isn't meant for this!
The power went out, causing GIR to scream and run across the room.
"GIR! Stop it, I need you to-" He sneezed. "Go to my base and order Irken remedies for illnesses."
The robot was about to refuse, but then saw how terrible Zim looked. Even he could tell he was ill. GIR nodded and jumped down the garbage can.
"I'm doomed.." The room's heat had all faded, weakening what little chances the alien had for hope.