Author's Note: Since I haven't seen it, I'm not including the events of Hey Arnold! The Movie. Sorry:) I hope you enjoy this, it's a definite spur of the moment thing. Also: the guys uploading Arnold episodes on youtube are AWESOME. Thanks a ton.

The day was cold and had that mid-Autumn breeze: you know the kind, chilly but not biting. The trees had already begun to turn color--what little trees there were--and the sky was a light shade of gray. Headache gray.

Arnold sat on the stoop of his boarding house, looking expectant. If somebody asked he'd tell them that he was just hanging around, bored, but he had a real reason to be out on that stoop: he was waiting for the boarder. His grandfather had told him about it a week ago, that they were getting a new boarder to take up the last spare room. He hadn't said anything other than that. Nothing about the new guy at all.

The door behind Arnold opened and his grandfather stepped out, dressed in a wool coat. "Hey there, Shortman. How's it lookin?" Arnold shrugged. "Getting dark. I don't think it's gonna rain, though." His grandfather nodded and sat down beside him. "The new boarder should be coming today," he said, and Arnold nodded.

They didn't speak anymore after that, which was surprising to Arnold. Usually his grandfather couldn't shut up.

A car pulled up beside the boarding house just then and the back door opened and Arnold thought, 'So this must be it.' The man he saw surprised him. A lot.

He was tall and wide; broad shoulders sitting upon a barrel chest. It was obvious that he was in shape but it was also obvious that alchol had taken a toll on him, had made his gut a little bigger than it should be. The man in the driver's seat said, "G'luck, Lonnie. I'll see ya when I see ya." The big man nodded and a got a big brown suitcase out of the trunk. The car pulled off.

The man walked to the stoop and appraised Arnold and Grandpa, studied them. He had a big chin, a square face. Green eyes that sparkled with intelligence and something else that Arnold couldn't quite see. Something strange. The man said to Grandpa, "You must be Phil." Grandpa stood and said, "Hello there! Welcome to the Sunset Arms Boarding House! Shortman here--that's my grandson, Arnold--he'll show you to your room. You have any questions, just come see me."

He leaned in close to Arnold now and said, "Take his bag, boy." Arnold said alright and took it and started up the stairs, thinking about the man's hand: it was massive and gnarled like a tree trunk. He'd seen the end of a tattoo on one of the knuckles.

The man said, "Thanks, kid," and walked in after him. Grandpa shut the door.

Arnold looked back at him: his clothes were strange. Outdated looking. A leather jacket that looked 1970s and a flowered shirt and brown slacks and cuban heeled shoes. He saw a pack of cigarettes tucked in his shirt pocket.

The room was on the second floor at the end of the hall, not far from Arnold's little loft. Grandpa opened the door and handed the new boarder the key, saying, "Try not to lose it, we can't get copies anymore 'cause Pookie has a fit over the price." The man laughed politely and walked inside his room: tiny and cramped, with a kitchenette and an itty dining table and a closet. The bed was tucked in a corner and the carpet was stained: some of it could be food, some of it Arnold wasn't sure of.

The man walked inside and frowned at the carpet: it was greasy. Just how in the hell do you get carpets greasy? Grandpa said, "It's a little small but I think it'll do ya. Rent comes in on the first of the month and if you're a little short, then I'm sure we can work somethin' out." Oscar, standing in the hallway--'When did he get up,' Arnold thought, 'Usually isn't awake until six PM--said, "You never tell me that! It's always, 'Oscar, Oscar, turn up the money now!' How come this stranger gets so much special treatment!"

Grandpa scowled and said, "Because this stranger doesn't have a gambling addiction and he isn't a deadbeat!" Oscar hung his head and walked back to his room, dejected. Grandpa seemed not to notice.

The man stuck a hand out. He said, "I'm Lonnie Doyle." Grandpa shook it and then the hand came in Arnold's direction and he, after a moment's hesitation, shook it too. The hand felt like sandpaper. Calloused and hard.

Lonnie said, "If you don't mind I'd like ta get unpacked and maybe get some rest. I had a long trip." Grandpa nodded and said, "C'mon Shortman, let's go grab some dinner."

They left Lonnie to his own devices and started down the hall. After a moment Arnold asked, "Where'd he come from?"

"Oh, I believe he just got out of pris...uh...outta the farm business. Yeah. He was a farmer."

"What?"

"Stop askin questions, Arnold. We got food waitin for us."

Arnold decided not to press it any further. But he did cast one last look down the hall, back at the room. The door was closed now.

He thought about the tattoo. How crude it had been.

Where do you get a tattoo like that?