ZaGr Driving Test
Chap 1 *Zim*
Zim slipped the key into the ignition of the Toyota, smiling inwardly.
Here he was, sixteen years of age in Earth years, still on the disgusting planet.Still learning about its native inhabitants, figuring out a way to conquer them. He ran his hands over the smooth leather of the steering wheel. Zim liked driving cars; it made him feel powerful, in-control. He hoped that soon all of Earth’s humans would be like that, obeying his every wish.
“Sir, could you please step out of the car? It’s not your turn yet,” said a fairly annoyed but still kindly voice.
Zim glared out the window at the man and got out reluctantly, muttering something about stupid humans. He made his way over to the DMV office and stood at the back of the long line behind the pale desk spotted with stains, twiddling his thumbs. He was anxious to begin his driving test, though he hadn’t studied. Well, in a way he had, he just read it in his language, telling his computer to gather every little piece of information about driving it could find and transfer it into Irken. The thought brought back the last time he’d been here, a couple Earth-months ago, and he scowled.
~a couple of Earth-months ago~
Zim sauntered into the DMV office on one of its rare uncrowded days.
“Hello, Human,” Zim said, trying to be as normal as possible. ‘Normal’ to him was slouching on his hips so far the large black-haired lady at behind the desk was sure if she poked him, he would fall over. Which the lady didn’t find ‘normal’ at all.
“Can I help you?” the lady asked, peeking over the rim of her cracked glasses.
“Do you have any of these automotive education textbooks in an Alien language?” Zim asked, then added quickly, seeing the lady’s bored and confused expression, “it’s for skool.Not that I’m an Alien, or anything.I’m normal, just so you know. So do you have any?”
“No,” she said flatly, dismissing him with her expression.
He frowned. “Are you sure?”
”Yes.”
”Can you go check?”
”No.”
Zim crossed his arms. “Fine.” He said without emotion and marched out of the office, but not before crying “I am ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!!!!!!!!!!!” and slamming to door behind him.
~when the story started~
Zim didn’t notice how far he had moved up in the line until he heard the sharp flash of someone getting their license picture taken. He looked up just out of curiosity, and his heart, if he had one, nearly stopped. Her soft purple hair was curled up by her cheeks, in a more rounded style then the square one she used to sport, and she was wearing a short black dress embellished with a purple skull, fishnet tights and purple Converse. She was wearing what looked like a smirk, staring at the camera as she got her drivers’ permit. Her figure was a teardrop shape, and just seeing her face made Zim drool. He had seen her around school and never really looked at her until now.
It was Gaz.
Part 1
It really was a rotten day.
I woke up in a barrel, as usual, still with a bottle of rum in my hand, and walked over to the butcher’s, as usual, and pretened to be a helpless, underprivalidged child.
But I’m not.
So yes, I lied.
The butcher’s always been a softie, and gave me some bacon to eat. I marched off, brandishing my prize in my mouth, scarfing it down like I haven’t eaten for WEEKS so nobody would become suspicious.
So how was this a rotten day?
Let me tell you.
After a cuple of hours of roaming around Port Royal, Jamaica, I started noticing the guards fallowing me.
”That’s him!” I heard one of them whisper. I held my breath. I mean sure, I was fourteen and looked completely normal for a child in 1715, but I was all alone and wasn’t starving.
That right there should give you a clue I didn’t belong there.
So then they knew for sure.
”GET HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!” They yelled.
Great.
So I ran. I ran and ran and ran and ran. And I ran straight into a girl when I cut through an alley.
”Oh!” She gasped. I made her spill all her little hatboxes full of clothes and corsets and stylish things.
She instantly hated me.
If there is one thing you should never do, it’s spill a womans shopping spree bags. That causes her to hate you.
And with a girl as beautiful as her, that is not good.
”Sorry!” I said quickly, and sprinted off. Little did I know that some other guards were waiting for me.
”Gotcha!” They snarled, grabbing my arms. One of them pick-pocketed me and pulled out a leather bag full of escudos and reales.
”Let. Me. Go!” I growled, thrashing about. I was quite a handful.
”Ha, I don’t think so,” a familiar voice said, amusement creeping its way into his voice.
”Gregory,” I whispered angrily. This man was the Governor’s second in command, and had tried to kill me FIFTEEN TIMES.
I mean, I was only fourteen!
”Finn,” Gregory growled.
Now you see how my day was rotten. It started out great, running into gorgeous women and narrowly escaping guards and stealing their swords to duel. ‘Cause that’s what pirates do. But, of course, Gregory had to ruin my perfect day with his stupid guards.
The rest of my day wasn’t too much better. I bit and scratched like a naughty cat, and guess what they did?
THEY THREW ME IN THE DUNGEON.
I WAS ONLY FOURTEEN, FOR GOODNESS SAKE!!!!!
The waves stalk the shore
Getting closer to the sand
Then pulled away harshly.
Though the waves push to the shore
They get dragged back into the ocean’s gaping mouth
But still clinging on
With white foaming hands.
Then low tide comes
And the waves are trapped in front of the shore.
They can stare
But can barely feel
The soft powdery beach.
But then high tide comes
And the waves and shore
Can play their gentle game of tag
Once again.
