He is pathetically torn between the sad dichotomy of reacting to the threat or the rude sobriquet first, and his organic and auxiliary brain fail him in his greatest time of need. He is the kind of Invader made to grace the eternal tomes of history books and galactic legend, not be insulted at his own doorstep: spluttering and knocking GIR off of his head, said robot scuttling to his feet and immediately clinging to the visitor’s legs, he shouts, ❝ No one threatens ZIM! Do you dare invoke my insipid wrath, which is just a nicer word for a death sentence? Take off that stupid wig while we argue, anyways, because I can’t take you seriously when you look so offensively human like! Not…that it would help, much, because you’re ugly anyways ! ❞
❝ You’re on my property and I’m the invader of this stupid planet, so you will obey me or suffer my…vengeance, or something! How am I supposed to get ‘lost’ if I live here, anyways ?! ❞
╰☆╮ » "I can't take it off. It's like saying that our antenna are removable. That's just wrong."
so very wrong. Zib wasn't here for pleasantries. Nor did he want to deal with that annoying voice coming out from that little 'invader'.
"And please, I am a scientist. Also taller than you. How insubordinate. You'd think the Tallests are going to allow that back talk? I'll fry you, you little ingrate."














