Disclaimer: So, Arnold, Helga, their 'Love/Unaware' relationship, and maybe a few other characters/relationships later on belong to Craig Bartlett; but the story idea, two characters, a dog, and a record store belong to me. Let's say that the gang plus my own characters in this story are seventeen/eighteen. I hope you enjoy reading, as I had fun writing it. Maybe I'll make a sequel, or make this have chapters, I don't know. So for now, it remains a one-shot. As always, please read, review, and spread the word.
HA
Well, this certainly wasn't what he expected, that was for sure.
As soon as Arnold saw the sign above the door while walking the streets of Downtown, he felt a sort of pull to go in. The Turntables; the sign alluded to the store selling records, probably vinyl, most likely 33s, and maybe some 45s and 78s. So, on a whim - and maybe an interest in finding something vintage for Lila so she would reconsider dating him - he pulled open the door and listened as the little bells alerted everyone to his presence.
Well, they would have, had not jazz music been playing from the speakers so loud, he was amazed he hadn't heard it outside. Currently, it sounded like two women, maybe three, singing about a man who played a bugle in the army. Arnold felt a tinge of guilt, seeing as how his Grandpa had raised him on this music, and here he couldn't even name names.
The layout of the store was pretty simple. There were essentially two squares, one outer and one inner, in the entrance of the building. The outer one lined the walls, and was made up of boxes containing 33s in alphabetical order; 'A' starting on his left at the door, and 'Z' ending on his right. The inner square was composed of 45s, but arranged by year rather than name. A door in the back of the room was closed, so he could only guess it led to an ally or a hidden part of the building. A few feet away from the door was the counter and a set of turntables which he assumed was connected to the speakers. A dog that looked something like an Irish Wolf Hound lay curling around the counter, watching Arnold, reminding him of a security guard. It was also where three women, dressed in 70s garb with their hair curled lightly, sat chatting away.
Two of them, a brunette and an original electric blue, he did not recognize, but he had a pretty good idea who the blonde was – even if she had her back to him. Slowly and stealthily he made his way to the counter, noticing that besides a cash register, there, stowed away behind the glass, was a small collection on bongs. And that's when he heard part of their conversation.
"I know what you mean. I love it when I hear parents threaten children with the line 'I brought you into this world, and I can send you right back where you came from!' It's like they're telling you they have the power to shove you back up your mother's vagina!"
Yep, no mistaking that humor.
"Helga?" Arnold asked as the girl turned with a smile on her face, while her two coworkers eyed each other warily.
"Oh, hey Football Head. What brings you here?" she asked casually while leaning back onto the cash register from her perch on top of the glass. A friendly smirk graced her lips.
"I could ask you the same thing. You never mentioned working here while at the lunch table – why is that?" he grew his own smirk, while hers turned more mischievous.
"You never asked. So, what can I do for you?"
Arnold took a moment to look around a bit more, before turning back to his childhood tormentor turned close friend.
"I dunno – I was just walking down the street, saw the sign, and felt a pull. Now I'm here. What would you say I buy?"
Her smirk changed into a smile as she gracefully slid off the counter, and began to lean against it with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Now you see, it's not up to me. It falls entirely upon your misshapen head. What do you like to listen to?"
Arnold thought for a moment, before the sound of the women floating through the speakers came to him again.
"Well, I like the sound of these guys . . ." At his remark, the girl with blue hair stood up and leaned over Helga's shoulder.
"The Andrews Sisters? Yea, I like this kid already Helga. He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B . . ." She sang along faintly with the singers at the chorus while dancing her way over to the turntables. Helga just rolled her eyes.
"Mmhmm, well, would you like their album in 33 or 45?"
Arnold paused.
"Umm . . . what?"
As soon as the question left his mouth, all three girls stopped what they were doing to look at him.
"Kid, you do have a turntable at home, right?" the brunette asked. Arnold shook his head no. Helga raised her eyebrows.
"How about a record player?" blue asked. Again, no. Helga's eyebrows just about disappeared beneath her bangs.
"Arnold, if you don't have a turntable or a vinyl player, then what in the heck are you doin' here?" she asked, while he blushed, but stood his ground.
"I told you, felt a pull and followed it."
Helga sighed, but seemed to harbor no ill will, for a second later, she smirked.
"Well, Football Head, since you know absolutely nothing about what really matters, I suppose the four of us are just gonna have to hold you hostage until you are educated well-enough that you can leave this building."
"Four?" The three girls just pointed down at the dog, who was still watching him.
"Benny. Now, let's get to it!" Helga declared, and proceeded to show him around and explain everything to him.
HA
A few hours later, Arnold found himself sitting comfortably with the three girls and Benny. Besides the difference between the types of Vinyl sizes and how to properly clean them, he also learned that blue's name was really Lauren, and brunette's was Rachael. He had bought himself a vintage, working vinyl record player from the forties, which he was sure his Grandpa was gonna love; and a few records including The Plantation Players (he loved the song 'How Could Red Ridding Hood') and Benny Goodman.
Casually he looked at his watch, and after seeing how long he'd been, cursed to himself.
"What's up Arnold?" Lauren asked, and Arnold kept his eyes on his watch.
"I didn't realize how long I've been here, and I was supposed to find a birthday present for Lila today. Tomorrow's her party and I still haven't found the perfect thing yet." Rachael and Lauren noticed Helga's face darken at the mention of Lila, but she covered it quickly.
"Hey Football Head, I think I've got the perfect thing. It's bound to sweep Lit', mm, Lila, off her feet. You know how to waltz, right?" she asked as she slowly stood up and made her way to the 45s. Arnold turned in his chair to watch her, but didn't get up.
"Yeah, why?" She smiled mysteriously as she returned with an old looking package.
"This record is one of the few in circulation. It's Ella Fitzgerald: side A is 'Stardust', and side B is 'Goodnight My Love', which she did with Benny Goodman. Perfect romance music; take this, along with a small 45 player. She's told us girls more than once that she doesn't know how to waltz, and is dying to learn. Teach her to these songs."
Arnold took the cover with awe, holding it carefully while Rachael smiled and went through the back door, and re-emerged a few minutes later with a medium sized box. Seeing this, Arnold quickly set the record down to get out his wallet, when Helga stopped him.
"Nah, this is on the house. Besides, I think I conned enough out of you with all those records and the player I sold you earlier." She smiled a friendly, albeit hurt, smile, and in a state of shock and gratitude, he hugged her.
"Thank you, Helga. I better get going. It was nice meeting you Rachael, Lauren. You too, Benny. I guess I'll see you in school, Helga."
"Just make sure you don't break her feet, Football Head." Helga laughed as he smiled and nodded, using his back to push open the doors to walk out of the store with all his purchases, minus his own player. Her laugh faded as soon as the door closed, and she slumped over the counter in a dramatic sort of way. Lauren just laughed and rubbed her back.
"Aw, honey, don't worry, you'll see him again."
"Yea, he still has to pick up his player." Rachael laughed while Helga moaned and rubbed her face deeper into the glass.
"Geniuses, I sit with him and our other friends at lunch almost everyday at school. Of course I'm gonna see him again!" she whined while lifting her head off the glass – and revealing a red spot where her hot forehead met the cool surface.
"Hey, he'll see how great you really are one of these days, and forget all about oh-what's-her-name!" Lauren proclaimed while lifting a finger triumphantly.
"Guys, you don't get it: Lila, is perfect! Why would he forget her to be with boring blondie who works for a hippy at a record store?" Helga argued, while Lauren sympathized and Rachael went to change the record that was playing.
"Chill girl, he'll come around, I'm sure of it." Lauren reassured one more time.
"Helga, Lauren is right, he'll come around." Rachael agreed, sending the two other into a state of shock.
"I am?"
"She is?"
"Yea, he still has to pick up his record player, after all." Helga moaned and dropped her head back onto the glass, while Rachael laughed and Lauren threw a pen at her.
HA