Here’s the scene.  I’m running.  Not running a marathon, not out for a jog and not in one of those moods where I’m terrified of getting old and decide to just frantically use my legs because I still can and oh god the wind feels good on my face and I never want to shit my pants and cry while remembering what it was like to only shit my pants when I wanted to.

No I’m running for my incredible life, and the look on my face is that of a man who knows the zombie dog right on his ass is right on his ass but is too afraid to turn around to confirm for fear that to behold the thing would be to lose one’s mind, giving up not only their nerve but their very life.  Just one thing:  there is no zombie dog.  There is simply the person chasing me asking “How did you come up with the show Invader ZIM?!”

It’s an innocent enough question, sure, so why run, right?  Well this person’s infected with some flesh eating virus and wants…no…NEEDS to know how I came up with the show before they liquify from the inside out.  How they find me, I don’t know, but fuck how they found me when what really matters is how I’m supposed to get rid of them as they’re running with all the urgency of a person who has mere minutes to live.

Not turning around to size up my enemy is hard enough, no threat of turning to salt needed, but I manage it.  What I can’t manage is to block out the horrific, wet sputter of the person’s gurgling voice as they call out for me to end their pain and suffering on the matter of how I came up with their favorite show.  “PHHLEAAAAZZZSSHH SHTELL SHMEEE  SSKKKKSSSHOW YEWWW CAMMMESsshhh UPFF WITHSHHH SHHZIMMMMMMmmm bloop bloop!”, the words belch out from what sounds way too close behind, the juicy slapping of their throat bits pattering against my back.  It’s like A Hard Day’s Night, only I’m all the Beatles and only one fan is chasing me down and that fan is leaving a trail of what used to be the flesh of their back down the street like a human snail, and I’m not cute like McCartney was, smiling with that “OH! HEE HEE! Let’s get outta here guys!” face – I’m all hideous panic-lines and terror masks as the thought of the thing touching me kicks hard into the harried nutsack of my mind.

Alright, let’s stop the playback, yeah?

FREEZE IMAGE.

ZOOM IN.

ENHANCE.

See?  That’s the face of someone in need, and that’s why I’m doing this, to help those in just such a need.

So, how DID I come up with the American comedy classic known now as INVADER ZIM?  Well, in today’s installment of whatever the hell these are, you’re going to find out how a seemingly normal human being invents possibly one of the greatest things ever conceived of by mankind.  So sit back, relax, and prepare to have your awful face stabbed to death by the sheer kickass brilliance that is today’s Chucky doll of pure-

FACT:

There’s no easy way to pinpoint just how the idea for the show popped up.  Like with most things, it was an ever-evolving thing that finally culminated in one sweaty, nightmare-plagued night that found me bolting up in bed, my thick matt of chest hair slicked down like an oily bearskin rug, to proclaim, ” AHA!  I HAVE INVENTED THE GREATEST -“, and then fell right back to sleep, exhausted from all those nightmares.

This was around the time I was just finishing up work on my SQUEE! miniseries, a time when my womanizing had become simply outlandish.  Back then I would sleep on a bed of beautiful women who found a life of servitude to a grotesquely dorky comic book nerd to be the ultimate joy in life, which jibed well with my love of using women as furniture (upholstered and everything!)  Upon waking from that sleep, I looked around me and knew that I would have to end that life of constant debauchery if I was to properly execute pulling my new idea kicking and screaming from that great womb of my imagination.

Ten minutes later, I clapped the dust and ashes off my hands and never returned to the charred land where that house (also built entirely of women) once stood, now burned to the ground.

As I walked away, looking undeniably cool as the house of flesh exploded behind me, me moving in slow motion toward some imaginary camera with nary a glance behind me as would be prudent when things are exploding behind you.  I was hoping someone was getting this moment on film as not only was it cool looking as shit, but it was also a poignant start to my new life as creator of something huge.  Right about then, another blast went off from the house, and I was slammed in the back by a a smoking blob of fused, well-toned thighs and perfect breasts.  The pain was excruciating and as the ambulance wheeled me off to the hospital, the EMT shook me and asked how I such a thing could happen to a person.  “How DID I come to this?” I asked myself.

Well, let’s go a little further back to find out.

Nope…a lil’ further.

Come on, don’t be afraid, you can go further than that, you sillyOHMYGOD!  YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR BACK!  I’M BEING BORN!  IT’S HAPPENING ALL OVER AGAIN!  QUICK, LET’S GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE BABY ME DOES TO YOU WHAT IT DID TO THOSE POOR SON OF A BITCHES IN THE DELIVERY ROOM! WHAT’S THAT SOUND, YOU ASK?  DON’T ASK!  DON’T LOOK!  COVER YOUR EYES OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD-

Aaaand we’re back.  I’m real sorry you had to see that, man.  I’d appreciate you not telling anyone what I was spawned from.  There’s a glass of juice in it for you if you’re good about this.

Alright, now we’re back when I was still working on a little known book called, oh, I dunno, JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC!  EHh?  EHHH?!  No?  Oh, you don’t know it.  Eh, well, nevermind that, then.  So around that time I got a call from a channel famous for showing music videos by the name of MTV! Eh?  EHHH?!  Oh…you don’t know of a channel by that name that actually shows music videos?  Gotcha.  Anyhow, they were interested in talking to me about any ideas I might have for animated shows.  I wasn’t all that interested at that particular time, and was happy just working on something that I hoped would someday bring me loads of fans eager to tell me, in terrifying detail, all about how bipolar they are.

So I finished up Johnny, started up SQUEE! and got through four issues of that when another call came in, this time from another of Viacom’s many beast-heads, Nickelodeon.  Someone had gotten a hold of SQUEE! and was interested in talking to me about about it as far as a kids’ show might go.  That person was Mary Harrington – watch the show and you’ll see her name pop up with mine as executive producer.  I recall it being something of a deal to get my name up as executive as well, and the bare-knuckles fight I had to put up with Mary while a bunch of other execs formed a circle around us was one of the most grueling battles I’ve ever experienced.  By that point, the thought of having my very own cartoon show sounded a lot more interesting as I felt I had mastered the art of comics, and had my suspicions pretty much verified when the then-current President of Comics drove up to my house and handed me an award for pretty much being as cool as you can get.

It was time to give animation a serious think, and so I did.

Flash forward and all that’s left of some of the most gorgeous female forms ever to fashion themselves into one of the finest dining sets you would ever have laid eyes upon is a mountain of blackened cinders that still made most women look like Richard Horvitz on one of his “farty days”.

It’d take way too long to explain in full detail just how each element present in the show came into place, but I can actually provide a pretty neat look into some of the dialogue that took place between myself and people I was bounding ideas off of at the time.  I kept a few of the chat logs from back then and in them you get a taste of where my mind was at the time and what might have been!

Keep in mind, I was a lot younger back then and some of the language might not be as refined as what I use now.  I removed the names, but I’m obviously “J”, and “F” has been used in place of whatever friend I was talking to at the time.

This first one deals with possible characters for a show that I only knew would involve aliens and obsessed alien hunters:

F:  You lied to me.

J:  Bitch, I lied to you, the UPS guy, the neighbor’s cat.  I fuckin lie to whoever I want, bitch, and I gonna keep on lyin’, hear?  I don’t gotta put up with none of your shit.  You got problems with me, take it up with my foot in your ass.

F:  I don’t have to put up with this, you know.  You think I can’t get someone else?  Someone better?  Nobody should put up with being treated the way you treat people.

J: Sounds to me like someone wants their momma stabbed in the basement for shooting such a trash hunka nothing from her snatch, huh?  Izzat whatchoo want?  IZZAT WHACHOO WANT?!

F: DON’T HURT MY MOM!  PLEASE GIVE HER BACK TO ME!

J: Yeah, well while I’m thinking about it, get your ass over here and fill in for this new bitch who can’t handle being an armrest on my throne without falling off and dying just now.

F: MOMMY!!!

———-

Woah.  I don’t think that’s the right transcript.  That language was a lot worse than I remember using, but those were different days, different times.  Holy shit, right?  Ah, here we go.  This one looks right.

J:  Seriously!  My own cartoon!  But tell me what you think, yeah?  I wanna run a few ideas by you, you tell me which ones sound the most interesting.

F:  Hey, man, maybe right now’s not the best time, okay?

J:  No, it’s fine.  I just ate and I’m feeling good and fat.  I’m just gonna be lounging around, thinking stuff up, so I have all the time in the world!  Okay, so I know the main guy’s an alien, like a classic Martian kinda guy, you know?  Only I don’t want to stay away from the whole Mars Attacks thing.  I’m going with “Little Green Man” for the title for now, only there’s a comic book with a very similar name, so it’ll probably change.

F:  Hey, I can’t talk right now.  It really is a bad time, okay?  Shit’s been pretty not good for me and I just need to sorta deal with it.

J:  Awful?  Are you kidding?  More like Awf-SOME! YEAHHHH!  UNF!  And you don’t have to talk!  I’m just running shit by you, and you can just say yah or nah.  You just reeeelaaaax and let me poop my mind at you.

F:  Jhonen, I was raped.

J:  That doesn’t sound relaxing at all.

F:  …

J:  In fact, that sounds horrible.  I hope my ideas relax you.  LIKE DIS ONE!  Okay, remember the Hulk?  The TV Hulk?  Jack McGee, his obsessed reporter nemesis, always on the hunt, trailing the Hulk’s every move?  Green Man’s gonna have a guy like that, except I figure they’re both in the same class!  I’m awesome right?  I wish I could just FUCK ME! Hold on, I’m gonna try real quick.

F:  I’m going.

J:  NO!  Hold on!  Ah, forget it.  This isn’t working at all.

F:  Do you even care?

J:  I care too much is what the problem is, I think.  I’ll try again later.

F:  Since you asked, it was a few nights ago when I went to see a show with Jeannie.  The guy at the door let her in, but then he started giving me a bunch of shit about how I wasn’t cool or some shit.  I think it started out as joking, with him asking Jeannie why she’d want a guy like me hanging out with her anyway, but when I brushed it off and walked past him, he grabbed me and got this crazy look in his eyes like I had just pissed in his face.  Next thing I know he’s got me against the wall, just raping the shit out of me.  Literally, man.  I shit myself while getting raped I was so scared and in hell.  Jeannie was screaming and kicking at the guy until he stopped.  I didn’t know what to do or where to go.  I just…I don’t know what the fuck to do.

J: So do you remember the Hulk or what?

F:  Fuck you, Jhonen.

J:  I KNOW!  Like I said, I’ll try again later.

———-

At that point the conversation takes a dull turn towards things that have nothing to do with the show.  I get annoyed that I seem to be the only person trying to make any progress with the brainstorming, but then it veers back on topic here:

F:  You’re the worst fucking friend I’ve ever had.

J:  And the robot will be all BEEP BOOP BEEP!  I AM A ROBOT!  HAHHAHAH!

F:  I don’t give a shit anymore.  I don’t want to live.

J:  That’s a no on that idea?  Ah, well.  It’s a divisive one, but I respect your opinion, doood.  I’m looking forward to designing ships and such.  I figure it’ll get pretty action adventure-heavy and have some seriously crazy shit, but it’s a comedy, ya know?  Always gotta keep it funny.  So…story ideas.  I think I told you a bit about the weasels one, yeah?  Where the Green Man is trying to use these genetically modified weasels that make humans sleepy to help him take over the world?

F:  I’m blocking you.

J:  But the weasels have to be on your head, so he tries to convince people that they NEED a weasel on on their head.  The whole world!  Eeeeheeheehee!

F:  Goodbye, and I hope you burn in hell.

J:  RARRRGH!  Gotta be careful to stay away from Pinky and the Brain territory, though.  I mean, he IS trying to take over the world, but it can’t be about how he fails all the time, I think.  Anyhow, I’m heading  down to L.A. to meet up with them again and I’m not sure HOW much information they need.  I think I have enough to build a decent little package on.

J:  Hello?

J:  Helloooo?

J:  I’m so lonely…

—————

Fascinating stuff.  Not sure what happened to “F” after he killed himself, though.  Stopped hanging after that, and we definitely stopped talking as much as we used to.  Still, I hope he’s alright.  You can see where certain things began germinating, too, and that’s what’s so neat about these chats- they’re like this candid snapshots of a point in time when I was embarking on something huge and new and when my friends were total and complete assholes who cared only for their own personal lives, and for their actual assholes, apparently.  The “Sleepy Weasels” story always floated around, even during production, but never got worked on beyond a mention in the show bible.  “Little Green Man” became “INVADER ZIM”, my McGee template became Dib, and that robot ended up being GIR.

Really, something like a series is never entirely done until it is completely done, and the show was taking on new characteristics, refining these, dropping those as it went along.  Like I said, to speak of how everything got dreamed up would take way too much time, but I hope this little insight into just the early phase was enough to shut you up for awhile.  I really do.

—ZIM FACTS.  Here’s why—