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Sublime Awakenings	By : Kailean Category: Comics > Squee! Views: 1477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Squee!, JTHM, or Invader Zim, nor any of the characters from these works. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
A.N.:

Okay, so I've been posting this on ff.net for a while now, but I want to experiment with breaking up some of the larger, later chapters into smaller ones somewhere else. This story is rated T (for teen) over there, but I might add in some smutty scenes on here if you guys review and express interest in that.

This is my first fanfic so I would really appreciate reviews and creative criticism. If something doesn't make sense, please let me know. I know the first couple chapters aren't great, and I'm truly sorry. It's really more of an intro to what's going on. After ch 2, they will be better. The OCs play a much smaller role after ch 3.

Summery: Squee is released from the D.H.M. I., and attends Hi Skool for the first time. Though in recent years his life has been more normal/stable, it begins to take a familiar turn for the weird/scary when his old teddy his returned to him. When it turns out that the problem is bigger than just his own, can he and friends solve it before it's too late?

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Sublime Awakening: Chapter 1

A young man of sixteen brushed dark bangs from his eyes, making a fruitless attempt to keep them at bay by tucking them behind an ear, as he leaned over the circulation desk to sign his name to the contract.

“You sure about this, kid?” ask his prospective boss, who was now leaning onto the desk across from the youth, his chin propped up on hand, an elbow nearly on top of the contact. “You seem too nice for this kind'a position. Being a grade-A jerk is in the job description..and the contact...ya know.” He smiled the sinister and teasing smile that was his trademark.

Looking up just long enough to make eye contact, the boy smiled back. His smile was more gentle than the man's, but full of amusement and eager defiance. “I know.” he replied, his brown eyes returning to the contract as his hand moved over the line, trancing his name in neat, elegant and practiced letters.”I never sign anything without reading the fine print.”

The man followed his gaze down to the desk and looked over the contract, finding that everything was in order down to the kid's name: Todd Castil, though he had requested to be called “Squee” for some reason. “Right. Nice doing business with you, Mr. Castil..umm..Squee.”

Todd cringed at being referred to as “Mr. Castil”, the name of his father and (twitch) grandfather, but recovered quickly as his boss seemed to be a fast learner. “You too. So I'll see you tomorrow at five to begin training?”

He shook the outstretched hand of the owner of the all new and revamped Video Out House, now known as Roc'n Rob's Media and Accessories. Well, at least it had been all-new last year when Rob Hummel, the long-time and “Jerk of the Decade” employee of the most intimidating video store in town had finally saved up enough money to buy the place and remake it in his own image..scary. Todd had been fifteen at the time and not old enough for work. Plus, there was the small inconvenience of still not being completely released from the Defective Head-Meat Institute until about a week ago.

On his way out he stopped by Trendy Subject to purchase the required apparel for his new job: namely darkish clothing advertising music, movies and games sold at Rob's. The two stores had an agreement where by the employees of each store got a discount at the other. Afterwards, he headed to the food court to meet Letta, the daughter of his councilor, Dr. Brian Douglas, for an early dinner before Wednesday night Mass.

Todd wasn't particularly religious, or pious by any means, not so much because of a lack of belief, but because of a lack of faith. Before meeting Brian, his exposure to religion was limited to a small bit of televangelism and some supposedly distorted memories of one of his only friends, Pepito, being the son of Satan. Despite these memories, none of the letters Pepito had written him in the last eight years suggested that he was anything other than a semi strange child and oddly devoted friend. Brian, however, was a stanch Catholic. Going to church with him got Todd out of his “parent's” house two nights a week...something he had already began to appreciate greatly after moving home just last week. It also usually resulted in his spending the night, which was fine by him and more than fine by the people who refused to call themselves his parents.

Squee made his way down two escalators and into the middle of the second floor of the mall where the food court was located. He scanned the court for Letta, his gaze passing somewhat disturbingly over herds of people who seemed to belong in a stockyard. Many of them already had the calls down. Finally, he spotted the dirty-blond-haired girl sitting at a table in the corner.

Because of all the commotion she didn't hear him approach until he took a set across from her. When she heard his chair slid in she looked up from her magazine and fixed her green eyes on him. “Hey Squee,” she said cheerfully.

“Hey. Sorry I'm late. There was a long line in Trendy Subject and the cashier wouldn't stop flirting with me.” He sighed.

“Heh. Yeah. That's what I call a happy problem. You do know those girls can sense angst like bloodhounds smell prey, right?”

“Are you calling me emo? Cause if you were I would have to write dark poetry about it, which I would then read to you over the phone in the middle of the night and post online.”

“Is that a treat? No, I'm not calling you emo. You just seem a little down for someone who just got released from Hell is all.” She pushed a tray with a warped sandwich and bottle of spring water across the table to Squee.

“Here, since you were late I got you food so you wouldn't have to wait in line.”

“Sorry. It's just the residual effect of being around my parents. Thanks a lot.”

Letta frowned sympathetically. “I still don't understand why the courts gave you back to those people,” she said darkly.

“For some reason they think it's best when children are with their natural parents instead of someone who will actually love them. Pulse, my parents never physically abused me. They just let the asylum do it for them.” He unwrapped the sandwich and prepared to take a bite. “ At least I only have two more years before I'm free of them.”

“That's true. And I guess with the new job and skool you won't really have to spend that much time with them anyway. Plus, you can always hang with me at the dorms.” She smiled deviously. “I could take you to parties and use your cuteness to get me dates.”

“What am I, a puppy?” He stifled a laugh.

He received a smile and a nod. “Yep. Pure breed too.”

“You're such a freak!” he yelled in mock exasperation before laughing audibly.

“What can I say? Lesbians like cute boys. They just don't want to sleep with them.”She laughed too, and secretly plotted to give Squee an 'oh so fabulous' makeover that would be sure to attract all the honeys. While a cute, little Squee could definitely get her a date, a cute, little, gay Squee could get her much, much more. She decided to change the subject before her thoughtful silence revealed her evil plan. “So, you started Hi Skool this week, right? How do you feel about that?”

“Oh. It's okay. Better than I expected and much better than the D.H.M.I. I have some classes with Dib, though somehow I ended up with the same horrible teacher I had in second grade for Honors English.”

“Ah. That's really good to hear. I hated Hi Skool, but then I didn't have something like the D.H.M.I. to compare it to. Sorry to here about the English teacher. I know that's your favorite subject.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “The public skool system isn't really for learning anyway. It's annoying, but I'll deal.”

She nodded. “So, did you meet that green kid Dib is always going on about?”

He smiled at the megalomaniacal insanity that was Zim, and wished he could tell Letta that he probably really was an alien. “Yeah. He's pretty crazy in a humorous, though annoying, sort of way.”

“Crazy? Crazy how?”

“Oh, you know, the standard bent on global domination with maybe some genocide on the side kind.” He smiled humorously to assure her, falsely, that it was a joke.

“Superiority complex, huh? Yeah, I know the type. Wait. I am the type. So are you, now that I think about it. And Dib too. Humm. Does it count as a complex if you really are better? But then, how do you know if you really are better or if you just think you are? Is there any real measure of “better”, and if it is subjective, then how do you diagnosis disorders of distorted reality when reality itself is subjective? Oh, my head. See why I'm not going into psychology like dad?”

“Yeah, I guess reality is pretty subjective, but that's no surprise coming from someone who spent the last eight years in a hospital because they can't tell reality from fantasy...or other reality as the case may well be. Maybe you should talk to Brian about that. But don't tell him I said anything. I have to project the illusion of sanity, or at least that I know what sanity is.”

“Yeah. If I mention it I'll leave you out, though I don't think you have anything to worry about.” She looked down at her watch. “Wow. We need to leave now unless we want to make a fashionably late entrance to Mass. That's kind of frowned upon. Father Fred will throw little pieces of Jesus at us.”

“Eww. Okay.”
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Sublime Awakenings