Helga Pataki was in her secret room that contained the shrine that she had built, of which was of her beloved Arnold. She opened her notebook to read the poem that she had just written only hours earlier. She had spent five hours writing it even though it contained only four lines. She usually scribbles these off in a flash in mere minutes but not this time. This time she wanted to get it right. She looked down at her page and her eyes were brimming with tears threatening to spill over. Her mouth was slightly quivering.

She knelt before the shrine with reverence and mouthed to herself these words:

My love for you my dear Arnold, my dear Football head.

Oh, how I wish to lie with you in your stead

and softly caress your gentle hair

while within your soul, with yearning, I'll stare.

She looked up at the shrine with swimming eyes and thought of her poem as not worthy, so she crumbled it up and threw the wad away into the corner of the room. She felt a bit of despair as she sighed thinking how she'll never find the words to express to her beloved about how deep her crush was. She had bottled it up for so long and masked her true feelings for him with beratings and an outward showcase of disdain for him.

She gazed upward at the chewed gum that made up his hair. This was the day, she thought. This was the day that she was going to descrate this shrine . . . desecrate it for the greater good. She needed a piece of it to help her fortitude in doing what she has always longed to do but never had the courage to see through doing.

She ripped a piece of her precious monument and put it in her mouth and began to gnaw at it. It was tough-going for it had grown pretty stiff after such a long stay in its dank environment. With every chew, she felt her resolve grow more firm. Finally, she stood up with her hands clenched in fists at her side as she contorted her face in the angry scowl that many of her classmates have become accustomed to seeing periodically over the years. She didn't need prepared words to say to Arnold how she really felt. The words would just come to her for her to utter as she stood before him. This, she knew. She felt it. She did an aboutface towards her bedroom door, on a mission.

She imperiously stalked out of her front door, slamming it behind her. The cold air whisked by her as if avoiding an onrushing train.

Then all of a sudden, she tripped over her shoelaces on the sidewalk and fell. In her haste, she had forgotten to tie them. And unfortunately, there was a rusty nail sticking out of a crack that delineated two slabs of concrete. It punctured through her skull right at the center of her forehead, killing her. She laid face down on the ground, heartbroken.

Arnold who was sitting with the rest of the boarders along with his grandparents were enjoying dinner. Then all of a sudden a wistful longing for something washed over his mind. He looked up with glossy eyes. Nobody noticed this as they were too preoccupied with their food. Steely Phil was droning on and on about how Oskar has yet to pay him back for the fifty dollars he owes him. The yammering drifted away towards the distance in Arnold's mind receding into the background and seemed more and more like a faraway dream that he was having.

He stood up in determination, pushing the chair back and left the room wordlessly. He didn't even remember to ask to be excused from the table.

He found himself outside on his doorsteps with the front door open. He looked up into the night sky looking for a sign for the direction that he should head in. The guidance was taking a while and he stood there as if waiting for a great spirit to appear before him.

Then he farted. This caused the spell of needing to embark on this journey to evaporate. Any idea of it disappeared in a wisp. He shook his head and went back inside. What was I doing, he thought.

Brainy had his face buried in his arms as he sat at his desk. He had finished his homework only moments before and now felt the time to be ripe to indulge in his favorite activity: obsessing over the lovely Helga Pataki. He was wallowing deep in it when all of a sudden he popped his head up with a start.

"Wow, my breath smells," he chuckled nasally.

He took his glasses off and wiped it with the cuff of a sleeve.

He had eaten dinner only about an hour ago. The food was a little dry, he thought. The water that he drank with it was too bland. He felt the need to taste a little sweetness on his palette. He wanted a soda at the local store.

It was too late in the night but the urge kept nagging at him.

"Er," he said to himself and followed his impulse.

He stood outside of his front steps, with his finger up his nose, screwing around in there digging.

"Ow," he blurted as he poked himself hard in the nostril.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, he thought. I might get in trouble with my parents if I get caught, he reasoned. A prospect of a tasty beverage wasn't worth the risk, was it?

Then an idea occurred to him which brightened him up: he took his finger out of the nostril and shoved it in the other. Then all seemed right with the world. He smiled feeling satisfied. Then he beamed to himself. He took out his finger and there was a hefty booger on it. He looked at the specimen lovingly.

He put the hand with the morsel still on the finger in his pocket and strolled over towards his destination.

He stood at the curb of the block unsure of whether this was a bad idea after all. But then he took out his hand and something caught his eye: the booger resembled the beautiful visage of the enchanting Helga Pataki. His Helga. It infused him with a soothing sensation. He decided to head towards her house on a whim. He didn't even know why.

When he arrived at her block, he saw her body laying there face down.

He knelt down and felt her pulse. She was dead. He wanted to yell but quelled the urge because he didn't want to alert someone who might have recognized him and told his parents that he was out this late in the evening.

He exhaled with sadness while looking her over.

Then his body seemed to take over and he felt as if he was on auto-pilot. He doggedly went over to the yard that was closest to him and scooped up a clump of dirt and grass. He placed it near her body. He continued with this task until there was an enclosed ring around her. He splayed her arms out diagonally.

The circle coupled with her newly-fashioned body position mimicked the peace symbol.

He then clambered into a nearby trash can and hid in there with the intention to guard over the scene for as long as he could from being disturbed.