Five Nights at Bloaty's, Closing Time, Part 2

It took me three seconds to fall in love with the Phillies.

When it came to the greatest sport of all, as far as my mother was concerned, Pennsylvania only had the Phillies. They were our team, and that was it. Football could go fuck itself. It was just, as Mom said, a bunch of people banging their heads into each other. And you had to be "brain damaged to like it".

No, for her, baseball was a true sport. It didn't involve violence on the scale football did. No, it was classy. It was tasteful. Almost elegant.

I didn't believe it at first. And neither did my brother. We were little jerks just one year apart and barely starting Elementary school. Barely able to appreciate the game.

But in three seconds we fell in love with it.

We got captivated. Entranced. It was...amazing. To my young mind, it looked like a guy was trying to fend of a bullet with a plastic straw.

Then came the cry of "safe". All at once, the crowd became an amorphous blob of white that rose up and I began to feel the energy. The other team's manager was whining about a bad call to the ref. The batter had two strikes. Pitcher threw-

STRIKE! And like that, I was a seven year old girl who'd fallen in love with baseball. All because my mom dragged me there. And to think, I'd only wanted to go for the hot dogs I knew she'd buy me.

...my mom was great that way.

Things were looking good. The game was well in hand. The Phillies were ahead by three, the pitching coach was sent out to bring in our closer, and then...moments later...it happened.

The longest home run I've ever seen to this day. Grand Slam. Four runs.

...we lost.


...

...

...

...Gaz could feel the blood rushing through her as she circled around her prey. Her eyes were alit with a burning flame as she licked her lips slightly, a bit of a giggle to her tone as she looked into the Hunter's eyes. His stolen face he'd ripped from Zim now registered an emotion she had been yearning to see as the lights in the bathroom flickered on and off, and their shadows danced upon the walls. The dark, oppressive environment of the diner was beginning to make way for something new, for now it was Gaz who was confident, secure and cocky as she spun her knife about in one hand and smirked at the Hunter. And it was he that seemed like a deer in the headlights, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing and what was about to happen to him. Now she saw it. The emotion she'd wanted plastered on his stolen face was obvious.

Fear.

Fear was hers to give.

"I have been waiting for this moment for so...damn...long." Gaz growled out, launching forward, the knife striking at the Hunter. It whizzed through the air, a silvery sliver that almost cut the Hunter's arm clean off as he reeled back, just barely avoiding her slash. He tried to regain his sense of composure as Gaz kept slashing away at him. "What's the matter? Not so much fun when you're the one at the recieving end, now is it?!" She roared.

"Persistent little bitch!" He snarled, shooting forward at her, but Gaz ducked, avoiding his swing. He was furious and angry and that meant he wasn't thinking, so she sliced upward after ducking below his strike, and he howled as he reeled back, clutching his chest.

"Not so fun now that the Hunter's become the HUNTED!" She said, tossing her cap away and holding the knife up. She licked some of the oil off it...she didn't care. The idea she could hurt these things. KILL them. See them in real pain and terror?

It made the oil taste like fuckin' champagne to her.

The Hunter reeled back, clutching at his chest with one hand, but he didn't give up. He swung downward at Gaz, and she swerved away to avoid it. Another broad strike, but this too was easily avoided before she saw him ready to charge at her, grunting darkly, building up to a gutteral roar as he launched himself at her with a snarl. She swiftly moved to the side, foot stuck out as he was tripped and fell down, down onto the floor. Gaz took hold of her knife, trying to bring it down onto his head, but the Hunter was a lot faster than he looked, and he wasn't going to let himself be killed so easily.

He rolled away, quickly rising up, and kicking Gaz squarely in the face. She howled, feeling a KRAKKA-THRAK sound that indicated he'd probably broken a cheekbone and he laughed in satisfaction before he saw Gaz rise up, holding the knife steady, her face cold, firm and unyielding. She was not afraid anymore, and this made the Hunter's laughter die in his throat. He took a nervous step back as she advanced, then tried to swing at her. She struck back, and knocked his blade to the side. He swung again as she kept advancing, and she knocked his sword away once more. He swung a third time-

But third time was not the charm. Gaz ducked and slammed the knife into his shoulder, getting a good hit in as she yanked hard. It ripped the thing clean off, the Hunter howling in a voice all-too-familiar to Zim's. But Gaz wasn't going to stop now. She tried to slash at his neck, but he ducked, diving across the floor and prying the gloved fingers that held the sword open as he took hold of it from off the bathroom floor. He held the sword up in his other hand, Gaz chuckling a bit. "Really? Zim wasn't left handed and I KNOW the Vampire Piggy Hunter wasn't."

"Shut up!" He snarled as he swung at her, wild and furious and baleful, practically spitting at her, oil leaking down from his chest and from his sliced-off shoulder like a sieve. His tone was high-pitched now, angry and bitter and almost childish in it's rage. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" He roared as he kept swinging at her. "Why don't you just die like all the rest of those little brats!? You're just a stupid little girl!"

"No. You're not fighting a stupid little girl." She said with a dark grin, ducking and swiftly moving forward, suddenly shooting up as she did. She knocked his blade to the side with a harsh elbow bump whilst her knife shot up, and she struck.

GLAR-GLORK!

It found it's way right into the Hunter's neck. The Hunter dropped his sword, letting out a disgusting, bubbly, denying scream as he struggled and flailed about, hopelessly unable to do anything but die as she twisted and twisted. It was almost like gutting a pig, and she had to admit, she'd be lying if she didn't feel a sense of satisfaction for what was happening. After everything this disgusting prick had done, it was good for him to get what was coming to him.

She finally twisted one last time and the head plopped off, the body spasming on the floor, twitching about and oil gushing everywhere as she "hmmphed" and turned to look at the head as the eyes rolled about. The head of the Hunter let out a final gasp, a croaking rattle before...

Stillness. Gaz waited a few moments, hoping to see more, but...nothing. She blinked in surprise, amber/brown eyes looking the scene over as she frowned a little. She would have thought maybe Zim...

She sighed, shaking her head. How pathetic. Was his face all that stuck around in the end? He didn't even have the decency to have his spirit try and linger on for-

And then a flash of something faint rose up and she turned, Zim's spectral form slowly rising up from the Hunter. He blinked slowly before making his way over to her, looking up at her.

"You got...taller." He remarked, his voice a faint echo, slightly subdued.

"Yeah."

He blinked again, before making towards the exit of the bathroom, the ghostly children parting. "I have to get GIR." He said, his voice softer than normal as Gaz readied her knife, following after.

Winning felt GOOOOOD.

...

...

...

...I didn't pick up swearing from DAD. I'll tell you that. I agreed with mom's instant remark of regret after the team lost that game.

"FUCK." She growled. "F-Fucking Phillies." She muttered, holding her face in one hand. "...sigh." A shake of her head. "Still...good game otherwise! Whatcha think?"

"This sucks." Dib muttered. "They blew it."

"I coulda caught that last one and I'm a little girl!" I complained. "DIB coulda caught it and he's worse than a little girl!"

Dib didn't even object to this. His anger towards the Phillies for their failure knew no bounds.

"Look, truth be told, it's n-not anything to get too mad over." Our mother Peg admitted as she knelt down and put a hand on our shoulders. "If the players got upset over every loss, they'd quit and wuh-work as street scrubbers or something. You can't always win. That's how l-luh-life works. Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you try, you lose anyway. D-Do you understand?"

"...yeah." Dib sighed.

"Oh, C'MON." I moaned. "Why CAN'T we win, though?"

"Because Life's a long game. Some you win, some you lose, and it's good that you lose once in a while. Because it makes the times you win seem all the sweeter. Maybe next time, okay? We'll come again, see if they win." Mom told us.

"Maybe next time". Our credo. Our mantra. I'd remember this. AND the speech. Because we went every month of baseball season. Every single time there was a game. And I don't know how...but SOMEHOW we ended up in the worst seasons they'd ever know, because the Phillies just. Kept. Losing.

On the one hand, I got to see the owner ejected for charging the mound. That was something.

But our mom kept reminding us of that lesson.

Dib, meanwhile, waited for Bloaty. He was the distraction, calmly standing at the end of one of the diner's long hallways. There were only two ways to approach the intersection where he was and sure enough, he could hear Bloaty making his way towards him from the south side. That same, ugly, repetitive thumping noise.

THRAHK THRAHK THRAHK.

Dib held his flashlight up, shining it directly in Bloaty's face, cringing as he saw the glassy, soulless singular human eye Bloaty had, the other a disturbing black abyss with a single dot. It pierced through the blackness, gazing at Dib as he mockingly waved, flexing his fingers and giving Bloaty the biggest, s--t eating grin he'd ever had.

"Hey there, Bloaty! How about comin' over and giving me a hug?" He asked. "Or are you too busy tonight with the other members of NAMBLA?" The paranormal investigator asked, a spirited jaunt to his voice as he stuck his tongue out at the phantom pig.

Who was not amused.

"You laugh. But you won't laugh when your soul belongs to me and I strip all from you."

"You don't scare me, Bloaty."

Bloaty gave an unmistakable and sickening smile as he placed an enormous single hand on the wall. "I will change that perception."

The lights on the wall began to flicker on and off, the screaming cries of children echoing through the air. The walls began to ooze, dripping with blood as it slowly poured down onto the floor below, Bloaty advancing towards Dib with a sadistic gleam in his eye, Dib taking a slight step back. The blood was coming down more heavily than before and he cringed, why was it getting so damn hot-

Then he realized why. The wallpaper was burning up, no, now it was the walls of an oven, a gigantic oven that had no end as a simple grating beneath his feet was all that kept Dib from falling down. Above his head came a sickening bubbling and gurgling sound and Dib almost vomited on the spot as he realized what was now drizzling down around him wasn't blood. Well, not JUST blood. No, it was blood and fat and muscle and flesh, children were being cooked in the oven, and he realized Bloaty was trying to break his mind, to shatter him by showing him what had befallen the innocents before.

"They were so surprised in the end. You would be positively amazed at how many of those damn brats lasted up to an hour. But never more than that. Certainly not your friend Zim."

"He's not my!" Dib began to say, but he decided now was not the time as a disgusting blob of grease just barely missed him. He bolted for the open exit, for the kitchen, Bloaty thundering after him, laughing psychotically as Dib panted and heaved.

"You'll belong to me just as the others! You're not going to escape!" Bloaty roared out, Dib glancing back and giving him another raspberry.

"You'll have to catch me first, and I can outrun a fatty like-"

"Ooh, Mary's gonna get baked into a pizza pie!"

Oh no. OHHH no. Dib turned whiter than a sheet, face twisting back to the front of the enormous oven as it continued to swell in heat and intensity. There, at the front door of the kitchen, looking over at him, was GIR'S form. BB was standing by him, the two giggling a bit.

"Oh no no no no!" Dib whispered.

"Do you think we should go help him?" GIR asked, scratching his head, pondering it. "I'd ask Nicky, but he's gone."

BB blinked suddenly, turning to look at GIR, confused. "Oh? Well, um...do you like pizzas?" He asked, GIR's face lighting up.

"Oh, I LOVE pizzas!" GIR said, clasping his stubby little hands together, Dib bolting for the exit even faster, sweat pouring down his brow, the flames beneath his feet threatening to rise up through the gate and turn him into smouldering ash. BB cheerily clasped GIR on the shoulders, beaming.

"Well, we should help Bloaty make this pizza!"

"Master always said Dib was delicious!"

"Wait, seriously?!" Dib asked, mouth slightly agape as he momentarily halted in place. Okay, that was a little disturbing to know. Had Zim been into...then again it wasn't like he hadn't ever thought about it, but still-

A lick of flame rose up and Dib yelped as it whizzed past his glasses. GIR and BB approached the oven, BB reaching for the door as GIR made for the nearby cupboards, whistling cheerily. "Imma gonna make the table!" He announced.

"Oh no no no no no! You don't need to do that! I don't taste very good!" Dib yelled out.

"Guess we'll find out, won't we?" BB inquired with a dark grin.

THA-SHULK!

And then he blinked, hand going to his mouth as he held up the oil that was leaking out from it. And for good reason, because Gaz's knife had sailed straight through the air and struck him right in the middle of his forehead. He let out a small "huh" before collapsing on the spot, GIR turning around to look at Gaz and-

The ghostly, almost utterly transparent figure who was standing by her in the doorway. Dib gaped in surprise as GIR's darkened, reddened eyes suddenly became a soft shade of light blue and his mouth slightly hung open. "Masta? Gazzy?" He asked.

As he took a step forward, something began to happen. Bloaty let out a furious cry of denial, Dib racing out of the oven, now finding himself growing to normal size as he slammed the door shut behind him. As GIR kept moving forward, it was as if the true GIR was stepping out from the walking cocoon the body had become. The ghostly figure of GIR slowly made it's way out of the robotic shell as it slowly halted in place halfway across the kitchen, walking into Zim's arms as Zim clutched him tightly and then looked over at Dib. He tilted his head to the side a bit, and then chuckled.

"You probably would have been delicious." He remarked before looking back at Gaz, giving her a slight little wink before he began to fade, GIR cheerily waving goodbye at them both, Dib cringing as he took off his jacket, panting a bit and wiping his brow as Gaz walked over to him.

"He stuck you in an oven? That is one sick, twisted little pig." She admitted. "He made his house out of dead kids, evidently."

"And with them on your side and his other servants gone, he's losing power." Dib reasoned before Bloaty's hateful and baleful roar filled the air.

"I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU STUPID LITTLE BRATS!"

Dib and Gaz raced out of the kitchen, the entire diner appearing to shake and shudder, Gaz grabbing Dib's hand, cringing. It was still so damn cold. But the dark glare of Bloaty as he stood across from the main dining hall was even colder.

"I have had quite enough! You've been making fun of me long enough! NO MORE! I'm gonna crush you little SHITS!"

"He's lost his cool." Gaz realized inwardly as Bloaty shot towards them, lumbering at a pitiful charge, snarling darkly. But he was in position, and so were they. Gaz pulled out the remote she'd brought with her from out of the backpack she wore and held it up, pointing it at Bloaty as she and Dib ducked down. It was time for him to pay for all he did.

With a shot like a bullet, they sailed out from the walls and the ceiling, the wires slicing and wrapping around Bloaty, grabbing hold of his arms and legs. He let out a furious gasping growl, struggling to get himself free, but to no avail. The wires simply dug into him the more he struggled about, Gaz and Dib keeping down to avoid getting ensnared as bloody oil leaked all over the floor and he howled and squealed like the pig he was. He roared his denial as the wires cut into him, Gaz finally launching herself forward, knife held high, and aim true. She sliced down, cutting him from the bow tie he wore down to where his belly button was, and Bloaty began to howl.

It was as if the entire diner itself was being cut into, his screams almost defeaning, but Gaz didn't care. She and Dib watched with satisfaction as the bloody oil began to splurt all over the floor and onto them, a cleansing baptism as Bloaty's human eye popped out of it's socket and he screamed and screamed and SCREAMED. But then their looks of triumph became horror as they began to slide out, one at a time.

Children. The dead bodies of children slid out of Bloaty's form, slumping onto the floor, eyes unseeing, mouths slightly open, others wide and horrified, almost perfectly preserved as Bloaty's body continued to convulse. One by one the blood-soaked young corpses slid out of the monstrous pig animatronic's form, his remaining eye becoming nothing but emptiness as his howl began to die away, and the last body slid out...

Nicholas. All of the kids had somehow been in him all this time. Gaz felt a disgusted shudder rising in her as Dib gently knelt by several of the bodies, especially Hagar, closing their eyes as Gaz knelt by Nick's. She took hold of his shoulder, turning him onto his back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling as she gently hung her head, trying to surpress the urge to cry. At last, she let out a pained intake of air, gently closing his eyes before she and Dib slowly rose up, turning around.

One by one, all of the ghost children entered the hall, slowly walking past the tables, a faint, gentle light around their bodies as Dib blinked, Nicholas taking his hand and pulling him slightly down. He whispered in Dib's ear and Dib blinked, then nodded a bit, a sad smile coming to his features as he ruffled Nick's hair. Nicholas turned to Gaz as the other ghostly children's forms, now more visible, more like real children, all stood by Dib.

"Gaz...thank you. Th-Thank you and Dib f-fuh-fuh-for this." Nicholas admitted with a nod.

Gaz nodded slightly, then looked at Dib, and blinked at him in confusion. Something wasn't right here. Why was Dib looking almost-

Then Dib approached her and took her hand, and this time, it did feel warm. He held it in both hands, and rested his head against hers. And with this, she understood. Somehow, it made sense.

"...when did it happen?" She asked softly.

"When the Hunter first threw his sword. It didn't just go into my eye, Gaz." He told her with a soft, sad smile.

This time Gaz couldn't hold back her tears. She began to struggle to speak. "I-I can't lose you too." She insisted, wrapping her arms around him. "Damn it, you can't leave me! YOU CAN'T FUCKING LEAVE ME!" She screamed out, sobbing into his chest, Dib returning the hug as he let her get it all out. "I've got nothing else! I only had you! I...only ever had you for so long and...you can't go, not when I need you most of all!"

Dib didn't say anything. He just let her keep crying, quietly stroking her back, his form soft and warm against her body as he saw her lift her head up, reddened, tear-stained eyes staring into his.

"You've been with me for so long. I can't let you go like this."

"You're not. Because I always was with you..."  He said, gently stepping back, taking his jacket and putting it around Gaz, taking his glasses off as well and handing them to her as he softly smiled, his injured eye healing before her eyes. Dibbun Membrane gave a final smile, nodding once at his sister.

"And I always will be."

And then he was gone.

...

...

...

...It was another day at the stadium. And I acted like a little bitch all the way there, making it painfully obvious to my mom I would rather be pecked to death by ducks than sit through another game where the Phillies failed.

"We've got a good lineup this year. Like the luh-look of it. We could really do some damage-"

"We've been doing this for two years. They're gonna lose." I sighed.

"Well it d-doesn't matter if they do. It's good to lose once in a while. Makes winning all the-"

"Mom, c'mon. Skip the speech?" Dib asked, our mother sighing as she pouted a bit.

"Fine." She remarked, and I folded my arms over my chest, "harrumphing".

So Dib and I sat together with Mom, her standing to my left in silence, and we were watching the Phillies getting blown out. Another rotten, lousy game of-

Or so I thought. Because then something remarkable happened.

The Phillies started to win. To WIN. They began to bounce back. Their bats connected hard with balls that sailed across the sky like white doves. My brother's mouth agape, he began to become filled with a sense of pride as I felt a delighted glee bubbling up inside me usually utterly untapped within my being.

And it happened. We won.

"WE WON!" I yelled, punching the air. "YES! YES! Mom, mom, did you see-?"

But she didn't have to say a word. The whole message of the moment was written all over her face.

"I get it, I get it." I said. "Life is a long season. Some you win..."

And that day, we were winners. The Phillies had won for once in their life. And I was sharing a seat with my mother and my brother in Shea Stadium. When we got home, Dad was actually waiting this time and he picked me and Dib up when we went to embrace him. He had been watching the game from the television, and had been drawn away from his experiment on perpetual energy by the shocking revelation that the Phillies had been winning.

"Can you believe it? We won!" Dib exclaimed.

Life made perfect sense to me in that moment. And I couldn't have been happier.

A week later Mom was dead. And within five years, so was Dad.

And God.

I miss her. Her and dad. I miss them so much.

...and I miss Dib.

Gaz put her hand down on her son's shoulder, smiling at him before she pointed out at the pitcher. "You keep an eye on him." She said, her glasses shining in the light of the beaming midday sun. "The stadium's nothing, I paid good money to draft him."

"Did you really have to have Bloaty's sponsor him though?" Her son asked, pouting a bit, a waft of black hair flopping about atop his head as he folded his arms over his chest. "I can't believe they're still doing business with you after you burned down that place."

"When you're eighteen and old enough, you can buy someplace and burn it down too. I promise." Gaz chuckled.

"But they're been losing all month, Mom. I dunno. Can't you get your money back?"

Gaz just smiled, turning back towards the field, her ten year old boy sipping on some Poop cola as she shook her head. "Sometimes you don't always win. And that makes the times you do win all the sweeter."

And with that, she turned her head a bit, blinking. She wasn't sure how she could hear it in the roars of the crowd as the pitcher managed a fluke, catching the ball that shot right at him, but she did. Maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe nothing at all.

But she was sure she could hear a voice whispering across the years.