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The very second the base had locked onto MiMi’s signature, Zim went into a frenzy.
“That diabolical SIR unit is here? On Earth?!” Zim shouted in disbelief as the monitor displayed its findings. “Then that must mean…Tak is here too,” he spat the name in disdain.
The Irken stood stock still for a few moments as this revelation settled in. Abruptly, he screamed and ran from the monitor. “Gir! Gir! Get over here!”
Gir abruptly fell from the base’s ceiling, landing squarely on his head with a rattle. “Woo!” he exclaimed, sticking his tongue out to the side and looking up at his master.
“Gir, this is serious!” Zim fretted, glaring down at the endlessly malfunctioning robot. “Tak and that…” he shuddered, “Horrifying robot of hers are back to steal our planet!”
“Ooooooh,” Gir drawled, abruptly releasing a high-pitched scream of his own and flailing his limbs about.
“No time for more screaming,” Zim firmly decided. “We need to stop them before…whatever they’re planning can happen!”
Swiping up Gir from the floor and all but carrying him through the base, Zim hurriedly donned their disguises and piled into the Voot Cruiser. Without much in the way of a concrete plan, they took off, following MiMi’s signature through the memory disk they still had on hand from Tak’s first invasion.
Sure enough, they did track down MiMi. The SIR unit was disguised in her ominous, narrow-eyed cat form, wandering an alleyway in the back of the city. Subduing the SIR unit was surprisingly easy, as evidently many of her functions were still impaired from their last encounter. She only made an effort to resist through running away. Gir put a stop to that just as Zim commanded; well, somewhat as Zim commanded. Zim had asked Gir to tackle the rogue robot to the ground, but Gir had instead captured her in an iron-grip bear hug from which she could never hope to escape in her weakened state.
Upon loading her into the Voot Cruiser and securing her within, they made back for the base, flying above rooftops and oblivious, inferior humans.
And that was how MiMi, perhaps the most technologically advanced SIR unit in the universe, ended up strapped helplessly to a chair in perhaps the universe’s most incompetent invader’s home. It was, to say the least, a humiliating defeat. If it wasn’t for being stripped of even her most basic defenses, MiMi would have burned the lopsided monstrosity of architecture to the ground.
MiMi was temporarily connected to a wire from the ceiling of the base’s upper floor, which shocked her badly enough that her hologram disintegrated and revealed her true robotic form. Zim then attempted a harsh interrogation of his prisoner for about thirty minutes before realizing that she was incapable of speech. After that he abandoned his efforts, striding towards his house’s trash can to descend into the secret underground portion of his base in search of other methods.
He stopped in his tracks when Gir marched past carrying piles of brightly-colored paper, glue, markers, and…dear tallest, glitter, mankind’s single most diabolical invention of all. Even though Gir had shed his dog suit, there was no telling what all that glitter would do to his already-fried circuits if any of it got in his head, and that was to say nothing of the mess he’d make besides that.
“Gir!” Zim shouted. “I thought I forbade all further arts and crafts projects from the base!”
“This ain’t no arts and crafts project,” Gir squealed, dumping his pile on the kitchen table. “This is…a Christmas project.”
“Gah, that infernal human holiday!” Zim lamented. He loathed to recall “Christmas.” The celebration only served to remind him of one of his most glowering failures of a planetary domination plot. If it weren’t for that out-of-control gooey Santa suit, he’d have long since become Earth’s sole dominator and earned the respect he oh-so-rightfully deserved! The Dib-stink, of all people, had been the one who had to bail him out of his botched Christmas takeover. Zim still had yet to live that one down.
“I also forbid any and all holiday festivities!” Zim commanded. “There will be no jolliness or joy of any sort caused by pitiful hyuman celebrations!”
Frowning, Gir weakly replied, “Buh, but the TV, it said that I gotta make Christmas cards. The C-corridormark commercial said it’s a required tradition! I gotta listen to the TV, master! Please, please!”
The robot started to go into hysterics, letting out crazed cries and frantically looking around the room like a deranged squirrel.
Knowing that this would only get worse if he allowed it to continue, Zim shouted, “Enough! You may…make cards, or whatever.” He gave Gir a pointed glare. “But no glitter. Is that understood?”
Gir’s eyes flashed red and he saluted. “Yes, sir!”
One second later, his eyes regained their bright blue glow. Giggling manically to himself, he plopped down in a chair at the table and giddily eyed his materials.
Rolling his eyes, Zim stepped into the trash can and slowly descended into the floor towards the rest of his base. That left Gir and MiMi all alone in the kitchen, the latter thinking condescending thoughts to herself about the dysfunctional dynamic between Gir and his master.
Gir started out excitedly scribbling something onto a green piece of construction paper, humming some made-up tune to the beat of his insane programming the entire time. MiMi watched him work with obvious contempt from where she was pushed against the back wall. Partaking in the ridiculous celebratory acts of an inferior alien species should’ve been against every fiber of a proper SIR unit’s programming, but then again, Gir was about as far from “proper” as a SIR unit could get.
It was only when Gir’s blindingly blue oculars turned towards MiMi that she began to worry. Watching this was one thing, but participating in it was absolutely out of the question.
“Saaaaaaay,” Gir wondered, hopping out of his chair and advancing towards MiMi. “Does pretty kitty wanna make cards toooooo?”
MiMi shook her head although she knew it would do no good. Gir giggled and examined the metal wires holding her in place against the chair.
“Boy, master tied you up good with those cold spaghetti strands,” Gir observed.
MiMi couldn’t even work up the effort to roll her eyes at the complete and utter failure of Gir’s notoriously flawed perception processor.
“Don’t worry, I’ll save you from the pasta!” Gir grinned as he grabbed MiMi’s left arm and pulled it out from under the wire that trapped it. Though it scraped uncomfortably, to MiMi’s astonishment, he did manage to free it.
The crazed SIR unit froze. “Aww, wait, master wouldn’t like it if I broke his spaghetti. You’re our prisoner!”
Though she hadn’t been counting on it, MiMi had hoped that Gir’s sheer stupidity would allow her to escape. At least now she had one arm free…not that it would be of much help, since her stronger clawed arm was still bound by the wires.
“Butcha got one arm!” Gir happily realized. “That’s all you need to make a card!”
Grabbing the chair’s legs, Gir began dragging MiMi towards the table. MiMi struggled against her binds, but she knew it would be no use. Gir was going to do everything in his power to include her in this idiotic, trivial Earth holiday.
Once she was seated right at the table’s edge, Gir returned to his own chair and scooted right up beside MiMi’s. He grinned dopily at her and placed a blue piece of paper on the table in front of her and put a yellow marker in her free hand. Then, he returned to his own masterpiece, scribbling out what appeared to be a purple blob with what looked like giant white appendages on its head.
“I’m makin’ this one for my moose friend!” Gir explained without prompting. “He’s called Minimoose. He’s a weapon of mass destruction that could probably destroy an entire planet!” Something about the casual lightheartedness of that statement made MiMi feel a twinge of humor despite her situation. “Buuuut my master doesn’t know how to use him.”
Mentally sighing to herself, MiMi stared at the blue paper before her. How far had she fallen from her initial glorious purpose to be strapped down at a table with an insane robot and a dried out yellow marker in her hand? Though she normally would strictly never allow herself to express emotion, she let her head bow and eyes darken. It wasn’t like it mattered; Gir would be too wrapped up in his own project to pay her any real mind, and his broken perception processor wouldn’t know what to make of her even if he did notice her.
Except…not only did he notice her, but he correctly gauged what she was feeling.
“Why you gotta be so sad?” Gir whined. “Oh! You dunno who to make a card for!”
Irritation twitching behind her melancholy, MiMi didn’t dignify him with a reaction.
“You should make one for your master! That…uhhhhh,” his voice wavered as he struggled to access the correct memory banks. “That uhhhhh purple lady! The weenie girl!”
Something in MiMi’s circuitry sizzled at how Gir referred to her master. Tak was most certainly not a “weenie girl;” she was more invader than Gir’s master would ever be. MiMi had never wished for the ability to speak as much as she did in that moment, raring to defend her master’s good name. She tightly gripped the marker so hard that if she were at full power, it would’ve been crushed between her fingers and sprayed marker fluids everywhere.
Remembering then that she did have a method of communication clutched in her left hand, she determinedly wrote a message out on her paper in Irken letters. The marker was somewhat dry, so she had to write over several of her letters more than once, but she saw it as worth the effort. She may have gone a bit overboard, writing an entire paragraph of statements defending her master’s intentions and integrity and taking every opportunity she could to bash Zim, not only for his inherent incompetence and inferior height, but also for all the tragedy and unfairness he had caused Tak.
Ending her rant with a solid yellow dot at the bottom of her paper, she dropped the marker and sat back proudly. Gir leaned over to read her message with immense curiosity, his large blue eyes widening.
“Ooooooh,” he breathed out as his eyes tracked each line of characters. “Mmm-hmmm, mmm-hmmm, mmm-hmmmmmmmmm.” He abruptly sat back after reaching the final sentence and joyously exclaimed, “I just remembered, I can’t read! Hee hee!”
Inwardly groaning, MiMi smacked her hand to her forehead and shook her head in defeat.
“Buuuut, I’m sure your master will love it!” Gir encouraged, returning to his own work station. He’d since finished his first card, a crudely-sketched attempt to draw Minimoose with a glowing red nose, and had moved on to a folded piece of red paper.
Staring forlornly at her card, MiMi scooped it up and opened her head compartment, tucking the paper inside. Perhaps if she was ever reunited with her wonderful master, this card really would make her feel better about her unfair defeat at the hands of Zim and his human rival.
MiMi didn’t wish to make any more cards, so she just sat back in her chair and put up with Gir’s endless, insane chattering. He kept saying something about “rubber pigs” and “launching fried chickens into the sun.” MiMi would have paid more attention for information gathering purposes, except that Gir was easily the most unreliable source she could possibly have access to.
When Gir finished his latest “masterpiece,” he happily held it up and let out a warbled “me-ooooow” and spun around to show it to MiMi.
“I made dis one for you!” he gushed. “’Cause you’re a real pretty kitty!”
Taken aback, MiMi hesitantly took a look at the card. It was bright red and covered in green and pink glitter despite Zim’s warnings. Drawn in the center of the card was a diminutive evergreen tree native to Earth adorned with colorful orbs. Beneath that were the poorly-drawn figures of a green, bipedal dog and a dark blue cat pressed cheek-to-cheek. The dog held out what MiMi thought was supposed to be a thumbs-up while the cat had its curly tail wrapped around the dog, holding it close.
Obviously, this was a rendition of her and Gir, if a highly inaccurate one. MiMi wasn’t entirely sure what it was supposed to signify, but the longer she stared at it, the more some bizarre feeling began to fire through her circuits. This card must have been a symbol of some sort of friendship or relationship. MiMi didn’t have time for any relationship other than her professional bond with her master, so why did this card make her seriously consider making room for one more?
Gir stared at her hopefully from underneath the card, his eyes larger than she had ever seen them and his head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. Even without his stupid green dog suit, he did look an awful lot like a puppy.
MiMi’s fingers flexed at her side. She really wanted to accept Gir’s card, more of those unfamiliar signals firing in her circuits.
No, she was above this, her impeccable programming was above this. Tak had slaved over her for months on planet Dirt, ensuring that her personality was nothing but stone-cold obedience to her and her alone. Why was she suddenly feeling something suspiciously similar to blossoming affection for, of all beings, Gir? She could not allow for this clear glitch in her processing to compromise her.
Yet, as Gir pushed the card even closer towards her, MiMi found her arms reaching out and taking it. Gir clapped excitedly and let out a squeal, bouncing up and down. He took to running in giddy circles around the kitchen, exclaiming, “She likes it! She likes it!” Glitter that had gotten stuck to his metallic body while making the card flew off of him, covering the floor and walls as he sped past them.
Right that that inopportune moment, Zim rose out of the trash can. The instant he caught sight of Gir running laps, he gasped.
“The glitter! Noooooo!” Zim groaned, falling to his knees. “The glitter has won! The glitter has won!”
Pulling himself together as best as he could, he stomped over to Gir and grabbed him by the antenna, putting a stop to his enthusiastic sprinting.
“Gir!” Zim shouted in the robot’s face. “I said no glitter! What have you done?!”
“I knooooow,” Gir innocently replied. “But I had to use glitter for my latest card! MiMi loooooved it!”
Looking over Gir’s head at his prisoner, Zim raised an eyebrow curiously at MiMi. She hid the card under the table, feeling embarrassed. Had Tak installed a feature that allowed it, MiMi suspected she would be blushing, which only made her even more embarrassed.
Zim slowly turned back to Gir. “You have been fraternizing with the enemy?”
“MiMi isn’t no frat house!” Gir defended. “She’s a cute cat! I like ‘er!”
That nonexistent blush would’ve completely overtaken MiMi’s face by then. Why were those faintly warm signals still unrelentingly firing in her circuits? Her condition only seemed to be getting worse.
The SIR unit was thrown out of her frantic thoughts by a sudden horrified shriek from Zim. “The glitter!” he screamed. “It’s on me! Get it off!”
A single speck of pink glitter clung to the center of his forehead. The Irken swiped furiously at it to no avail, wailing and fumbling over himself. Gir climbed up his back and grabbed ahold of his triangular head, trying to assist but only making things worse by spreading more of the glitter on his body over Zim.
“Gir, nooooooo!” Zim shrieked, rolling around on the floor as more glitter transferred to him. “You’re only making it worse!” He and Gir tumbled about into the living room, spreading the glitter throughout the house. “The glitter, oh, the glitter! Whyyyyy?!”
Taking in the spectacle from her chair, MiMi was able to glean genuine amusement from the sight. As she watched Gir’s well-intentioned efforts, she turned back to the card. Whatever gesture this card had been intended to convey, it must have been working. Curse that little robot’s sweetness…
Now resigned to her compromised state, MiMi took one last look at the card before safely tucking it away in her head compartment. Perhaps it was the glitter interfering with her diodes, but she felt awfully compelled to make another card in return for Gir’s gift.
Thus ends the second day of Christmas.