O Arnold, Where Art Thou?
1 By Angela Marcisak
DISCLAIMER: I do no own Hey Arnold. I would if I could, but I can't, so I won't. Helga and Arnold forever!!! Ehem…on to the story!
CHAPTER 1- Introduction/There Was Preschool…
Hills of strawberry ice cream plains lay vast before his eyes. Never before had he seen such a wondrous sight as this. His shoes, black and shiny, were soon covered in pinkish goop, as were his ankles, and soon, his knees. Truly miraculous. He was knee deep in sherbet! Bringing a finger down to some of the mysterious substance in which surrounded him for many miles, he licked the tip of his index, a smile emerging from his previous look of dumbstruck curiosity. It was ice cream, all right!
He rolled around in the mound, filled with complete ecstasy. Was this a dream? Surely, it had to be. You didn't just doze off in the middle of a heated class debate, dreaming about strawberry ice cream. Maybe dreaming about a new crush you had or counting down the minutes until the end-of- school bell rang out loud, but usually not strawberry ice cream.
Oh yes, back to what I was saying. He seemed to be swimming in the heaps of chilled sorbet, filling his taste buds with the splendor of his surroundings. Suddenly, he froze. Just like that, he stopped. His body tensed, and the massive piles of summerhood swirled into a draining whirlpool. His clothes, pinker than a spinning vat of cotton candy at a circus show, plastered to his pale body. A look of terror froze to his face as he spiraled further and further, down into the depths of the odd whirlpool. "So bizarre…" he thought, but could not move his lips. They were frozen too. By now, the boy had almost reached the light at the end of his tunnel…
"Arnold…Arnold…ARNOLD!" A nine year old boy jumped up out of his seat, startled by the noise that had awakened him from his strange yet surprisingly common trance. He turned his oddly-shaped head to the girl next to him, who was not only the one shouting for his attention, but also the one who had been scowling at him for the past few minutes. A pair of bulging bloodshot eyes stared him directly in the face, a single yet thick eyebrow hovering angrily to match her irritated scowl. This could have been only one person.
"Helga! W-what are you doing?" the boy asked, nervously wrapping a finger around a lock of his flaxen-colored hair. By the crimson shade passing through the single browed preteen looking him in the eyes, he could tell whatever he did had to be pretty annoying to tick off the most aggressive bully to walk the halls of P.S. 118. Helga Pataki.
She scoffed, pointing a shaky finger at the apparently tense daydreamer, which so conveniently happened to be the boy she had been in love with since preschool, yet was so incredibly shy as to not want to confess her true feelings. "The question is, Football Head, what are YOU doing? For Pete's sake, you've been staring at my bow for what, ten minutes? You got a problem, or something, Hair Boy? Need to see the school shrink? Geez, what a dweeb…" Helga spat, fingering the pink ribbon that sat atop her blonde pigtails. She shook her head and walked away, laughing loudly. "Get out of my way, geek bait!" she shouted at a fellow fourth grader, shoving the poor victim head first into the blackboard and stomping straight out of the classroom.
"Man, Arnold…" Gerald shook his head, his eyes filled with friendly sympathy. Arnold nodded; he could predict what his best friend Gerald was about to say without even having to ask. They had been buddies since before first grade, so it was pretty explainable as to why they knew each other so well. Not to mention the "handshake", a little thumb-wrestling thing they did since the early days of preschool. " I just don't get it, Gerald," Arnold sighed, a little anxiety rising in his normally calm tempered voice. "I just don't get why she's been picking on me all these years. Why not someone else? I've been treated like dirt for as long as I can remember." Gerald cleared his throat, nudging Arnold slightly in the rib with his elbow. "Well," he continued, correcting himself," there was preschool…"
~*FLASHBACK*~
There she stood. Helga Geraldine Pataki. Although he didn't happen to know her name so long ago, he could tell she was a lonely soul right off the bat. Splattered in large blotches of mud and walking lonesome; did she even have a friend in the world? All by herself, strolling sadly down the sidewalk, a puddle of rain everywhere she stepped. Her mother and father had been too preoccupied in paying their attention to her fifteen-year-old sister, Olga Pataki. The perfectionist, of course, who had won every achievement award in the city of Hillwood. She was always gifted with a talent, and so was Helga. Shame her family never took the time to notice the little girl with the pink bow.
She stood for a moment, gazing into the transparent sheet of glass that had parted her from the preschool on that rainy Spring day. Letting out a deep sigh, she turned around and gasped, finding herself face to face with a little boy around the same age as her. He stood before a Green Packard, holding a navy blue umbrella, a little blue hat atop his odd football shaped head. He smiled happily at the small puzzled girl, holding his umbrella over her soaked sunshine-colored hair. "I like your bow," he innocently spoke, Helga's eyes widening at his comment. She, having nothing else to say at the time, muttered out a meek "Huh?" He responded, "I like your bow, cause' it's pink like your pants." He closed up his umbrella, smiled and gave a wave, and stepped nonchalantly into the nursery. She pressed her face against the cold window, a small grin plastered to her previously sorrowed expression.
~* END FLASHBACK*~
"So your point is…?" Gerald practically raised an eyebrow to Arnold's flashback. "Gerald, she used to be so much nicer back in preschool. Okay, maybe she never talked that much, and maybe it only lasted for a while, but it was there. Remember when Harold stole her crackers back then?" "Uh…no?" Gerald sheepishly grinned, shrugging his shoulders. Arnold sighed, then continued. "Well, Harold stole her crackers one day in preschool, and I offered her mine. She sure seemed happy after that, except for when the others began laughing and pointing at her. Then, all of a sudden, she became mean. From that point on, she's been nothing but a bully. I just wish she'd open up to me one day so I can see exactly why she's been so cruel to me all these years. Not just me, but everybody…" Arnold shook his head, lost in an ocean of thoughts waving wildly through his mind. "You'll be fine, man," Gerald assured him, patting a warm hand on his shoulder. "Just try to ignore her; it's the least you can do right now, isn't it?" Arnold sighed, nodding his head and grabbing a pile of books, which lay upon his desk. He stood up and looked distantly out the window of the classroom. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Gerald. Maybe I'll try talking to her someday. Someday…" Arnold and Gerald walked solemnly out of the classroom.
"Oh Arnold, my love," Helga whispered, peering at her beloved from behind her opened locker door. "If only there was some way you could understand the pain I suffer from tormenting you day after pitiful day, calling you Football Head and Hair Boy…if only there was a way I could tell you how I truly feel, so you could know I really never hated you at all. If only there was a bond; a bond in which would be so strong that it would never separate either of our beleaguered souls for the longest time. If only someday I could finally have the will to prove my worth to you, my love, the deepest, darkest secret of my heart for which so long I have yearned to tell, that I love you, Arno-," As Helga began to pull out her locket with Arnold's picture and recite meaningful banter to a faux listening ear of hers, a deep wheezing sound was heard behind her shoulder. "Hi Helg-," the shadowed figure began to greet, yet it was too late. Helga slammed the locker door into Brainy's face, closed the combination lock and marched angrily down the school halls leading to the lunchroom, uttering curse words under her tempered breath. It was going to be a long day.
1 By Angela Marcisak
DISCLAIMER: I do no own Hey Arnold. I would if I could, but I can't, so I won't. Helga and Arnold forever!!! Ehem…on to the story!
CHAPTER 1- Introduction/There Was Preschool…
Hills of strawberry ice cream plains lay vast before his eyes. Never before had he seen such a wondrous sight as this. His shoes, black and shiny, were soon covered in pinkish goop, as were his ankles, and soon, his knees. Truly miraculous. He was knee deep in sherbet! Bringing a finger down to some of the mysterious substance in which surrounded him for many miles, he licked the tip of his index, a smile emerging from his previous look of dumbstruck curiosity. It was ice cream, all right!
He rolled around in the mound, filled with complete ecstasy. Was this a dream? Surely, it had to be. You didn't just doze off in the middle of a heated class debate, dreaming about strawberry ice cream. Maybe dreaming about a new crush you had or counting down the minutes until the end-of- school bell rang out loud, but usually not strawberry ice cream.
Oh yes, back to what I was saying. He seemed to be swimming in the heaps of chilled sorbet, filling his taste buds with the splendor of his surroundings. Suddenly, he froze. Just like that, he stopped. His body tensed, and the massive piles of summerhood swirled into a draining whirlpool. His clothes, pinker than a spinning vat of cotton candy at a circus show, plastered to his pale body. A look of terror froze to his face as he spiraled further and further, down into the depths of the odd whirlpool. "So bizarre…" he thought, but could not move his lips. They were frozen too. By now, the boy had almost reached the light at the end of his tunnel…
"Arnold…Arnold…ARNOLD!" A nine year old boy jumped up out of his seat, startled by the noise that had awakened him from his strange yet surprisingly common trance. He turned his oddly-shaped head to the girl next to him, who was not only the one shouting for his attention, but also the one who had been scowling at him for the past few minutes. A pair of bulging bloodshot eyes stared him directly in the face, a single yet thick eyebrow hovering angrily to match her irritated scowl. This could have been only one person.
"Helga! W-what are you doing?" the boy asked, nervously wrapping a finger around a lock of his flaxen-colored hair. By the crimson shade passing through the single browed preteen looking him in the eyes, he could tell whatever he did had to be pretty annoying to tick off the most aggressive bully to walk the halls of P.S. 118. Helga Pataki.
She scoffed, pointing a shaky finger at the apparently tense daydreamer, which so conveniently happened to be the boy she had been in love with since preschool, yet was so incredibly shy as to not want to confess her true feelings. "The question is, Football Head, what are YOU doing? For Pete's sake, you've been staring at my bow for what, ten minutes? You got a problem, or something, Hair Boy? Need to see the school shrink? Geez, what a dweeb…" Helga spat, fingering the pink ribbon that sat atop her blonde pigtails. She shook her head and walked away, laughing loudly. "Get out of my way, geek bait!" she shouted at a fellow fourth grader, shoving the poor victim head first into the blackboard and stomping straight out of the classroom.
"Man, Arnold…" Gerald shook his head, his eyes filled with friendly sympathy. Arnold nodded; he could predict what his best friend Gerald was about to say without even having to ask. They had been buddies since before first grade, so it was pretty explainable as to why they knew each other so well. Not to mention the "handshake", a little thumb-wrestling thing they did since the early days of preschool. " I just don't get it, Gerald," Arnold sighed, a little anxiety rising in his normally calm tempered voice. "I just don't get why she's been picking on me all these years. Why not someone else? I've been treated like dirt for as long as I can remember." Gerald cleared his throat, nudging Arnold slightly in the rib with his elbow. "Well," he continued, correcting himself," there was preschool…"
~*FLASHBACK*~
There she stood. Helga Geraldine Pataki. Although he didn't happen to know her name so long ago, he could tell she was a lonely soul right off the bat. Splattered in large blotches of mud and walking lonesome; did she even have a friend in the world? All by herself, strolling sadly down the sidewalk, a puddle of rain everywhere she stepped. Her mother and father had been too preoccupied in paying their attention to her fifteen-year-old sister, Olga Pataki. The perfectionist, of course, who had won every achievement award in the city of Hillwood. She was always gifted with a talent, and so was Helga. Shame her family never took the time to notice the little girl with the pink bow.
She stood for a moment, gazing into the transparent sheet of glass that had parted her from the preschool on that rainy Spring day. Letting out a deep sigh, she turned around and gasped, finding herself face to face with a little boy around the same age as her. He stood before a Green Packard, holding a navy blue umbrella, a little blue hat atop his odd football shaped head. He smiled happily at the small puzzled girl, holding his umbrella over her soaked sunshine-colored hair. "I like your bow," he innocently spoke, Helga's eyes widening at his comment. She, having nothing else to say at the time, muttered out a meek "Huh?" He responded, "I like your bow, cause' it's pink like your pants." He closed up his umbrella, smiled and gave a wave, and stepped nonchalantly into the nursery. She pressed her face against the cold window, a small grin plastered to her previously sorrowed expression.
~* END FLASHBACK*~
"So your point is…?" Gerald practically raised an eyebrow to Arnold's flashback. "Gerald, she used to be so much nicer back in preschool. Okay, maybe she never talked that much, and maybe it only lasted for a while, but it was there. Remember when Harold stole her crackers back then?" "Uh…no?" Gerald sheepishly grinned, shrugging his shoulders. Arnold sighed, then continued. "Well, Harold stole her crackers one day in preschool, and I offered her mine. She sure seemed happy after that, except for when the others began laughing and pointing at her. Then, all of a sudden, she became mean. From that point on, she's been nothing but a bully. I just wish she'd open up to me one day so I can see exactly why she's been so cruel to me all these years. Not just me, but everybody…" Arnold shook his head, lost in an ocean of thoughts waving wildly through his mind. "You'll be fine, man," Gerald assured him, patting a warm hand on his shoulder. "Just try to ignore her; it's the least you can do right now, isn't it?" Arnold sighed, nodding his head and grabbing a pile of books, which lay upon his desk. He stood up and looked distantly out the window of the classroom. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Gerald. Maybe I'll try talking to her someday. Someday…" Arnold and Gerald walked solemnly out of the classroom.
"Oh Arnold, my love," Helga whispered, peering at her beloved from behind her opened locker door. "If only there was some way you could understand the pain I suffer from tormenting you day after pitiful day, calling you Football Head and Hair Boy…if only there was a way I could tell you how I truly feel, so you could know I really never hated you at all. If only there was a bond; a bond in which would be so strong that it would never separate either of our beleaguered souls for the longest time. If only someday I could finally have the will to prove my worth to you, my love, the deepest, darkest secret of my heart for which so long I have yearned to tell, that I love you, Arno-," As Helga began to pull out her locket with Arnold's picture and recite meaningful banter to a faux listening ear of hers, a deep wheezing sound was heard behind her shoulder. "Hi Helg-," the shadowed figure began to greet, yet it was too late. Helga slammed the locker door into Brainy's face, closed the combination lock and marched angrily down the school halls leading to the lunchroom, uttering curse words under her tempered breath. It was going to be a long day.