"GIR! GET OFF OF MY HEAD!"

"But you neeeeeeed hugs!" The manic SIR giggled as he clung to the alien's head. "I'mma cowboy! Whooheeeeee!"

Grunting in frustration, Zim finally managed to pry the bot from his head and held him at arm's length. "Why can't you behave and obey?" He shouted.

"I like you smiley!"

"I AM NOT SMILEY!"

GIR stuck his tongue out from his grin, and Zim sighed. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this. Tossing GIR onto the couch, where he had been resting minutes before the attack, Zim stomped off to the labs, muttering angry things in his native tongue.

"Always messing things up, always making messes, always playing in messes, always messing with messes and making things... messy! Is GIR so advanced that the Tallests had to lock his secret away in stupidity to keep the enemy from discovering it? But I've analyzed him for years, and haven't been able to come up with anything! Gah, foolishness. Idiocy. I need to build something, yes. That will help."

Upon reaching the labs, Zim pulled off his gloves and passed his claws over his tools fondly. The Irken race may be mostly short, but we have the finest technology in the known universe, he mused. Nothing can compare with our mechanical genius.

Nothing.

Outside, a shiny yellow car pulled up to the base, its motor ticking quietly. The driver's seat sat empty, and no form of life rested inside. And yet the car parked itself at the curb, watching. Waiting.