Not a Monster Anymore (Double Crossed Book 2)

Chapter 4

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My eyes are fuzzy when I wake up, so I rub at them to clear up my vision. It's still dark when I open them fully, which I'm used to, since there's obviously no windows down here. I swing my legs over the side of my bed, getting up and flicking on the lights before sitting down at my computer. I hadn't checked anything since a few days before Zim left, so there must be something.

There's a new message from an anonymous sender, and I'm just about to click on it when I hear a clatter upstairs. Maybe Zim is already up. I push up from my chair, clicking off the computer and make my way towards the kitchen chute.

However, once I'm up, I notice that it's Gir who made the noise, and the most obvious reason is that the waffle iron is on the floor, and Gir is covered in batter.

"Hi Mary! I'm making waffles," Gir chirps. I still don't get why he calls me that, but there's no use in trying to convince him otherwise.

"Looks like you got a bit messy in the process," I say, leaning down to place the waffle iron back on the counter. Gir hops up on his stool, still covered in waffle batter, and starts to pour what isn't on his body into the iron. Unlike many things he does, he always puts the exact amount of batter needed into the iron before closing it. Nothing drips out, and when he opens it again there aren't any air bubbles on the waffle that he puts on the plate next to him. He's actually really good at cooking, above all else.

"Has Zim come up yet?" I ask. Maybe he'd stopped upstairs for something and then went to the lab.

Gir, however, shakes his head. "Nope. I tried to go get him, but he was a real sleepy-head, and told me to leave." Then he holds the plate out to me, which somehow has four more waffles on it. "So I made waffles!"

Zim never slept in. In fact, he was usually awake before any of us, and came to wake us up. Something felt off about the situation, but maybe he's still disoriented, or just isn't feeling the best. I sit down at the table, and Gir places a plate in front of me, looking up at me longingly, even though he's already seen many times before that I enjoy his food.

I finish my plate, Gir having seemed content after my first few bites, and make my way back downstairs to see if Zim is up yet. I knock on his door. "Zim? Are you alright?" I ask, pressing my ear to the door.

"I'm feeling... not good," I hear him say, his voice muffled and groggy-sounding. "Just leave me be for a little while, I'll probably feel better soon."

"Alright. I'll see you later, then," I say, pulling my head from the door. No response comes from inside, so I can only guess that he's rolled over and is trying to rest again. I make my way up the chute again.

Once I'm back in the main house, I see Gir sitting on the couch, with the TV turned on, though only static is showing. I plop down next to him. "Watcha watching?" I ask.

"Snow," he responds, staring intently at the TV as the white noise shifts around, making it's usually annoying buzz. I don't make any move for the remote. Gir wouldn't want me changing the channel.

Instead, I stand up, looking for an excuse to get some fresh air. At the same time, though, I don't want Gir bugging Zim while he's trying to get better, so I say, "Hey, Gir, I'm going to the store, wanna join me?" He never could resist the opportunity to get junk food.

Gir nods, sliding off of the couch and running somewhere in the base to get his dog suit. He's left it in just about any place and been able to find it before, so it takes him mere seconds to return with his leash in hand, the other end already connected to his collar.

I grab the looped end and shrug on my coat before opening the door and letting Gir skip out in front of me.

We walk downtown, toward the grocery store, all the while Gir chatting my ear off about some party he went to. It's strange how the people in town don't find a talking dog weird; no one asked me any questions about him.

After we're done getting the usual groceries, I follow Gir to the slushie machine and let him do his thing. I always knew that he would come home with wacky flavours, but only now do I know that it's because he mixes them together to create hybrid drinks.

Watching him dart around the machines, waddling with his tiny legs is adorable. When he finally decides what he wants, he stretches his arms and legs to try and reach the handle that would pour the flavour he wanted into his cup.

"Want some help?" I ask, walking up to him. He nods and hands me the cup. "Which ones?"

"That one," Gir says, pointing to the peach, "that one," he adds pointing to the Poop Cola, "aaaand that one." He points to bubblegum. I fill the cup to the brim with his wacky mixture and he follows me to the register, humming to himself.