As Far As I Can...

Heeeeeeere's Phebga! Johnny Carson rip-off, but I've been watching VH1 all day! Well, I got this idea during the Summer Beach House when 'Helga on the Couch' came on. I ran the idea through (between my brain and Briana... hey, we're buds! And only just a little, okay? She's got to read it when it's done, too. Why am I talking about this?) and it evolved into something totally different from what I began with. I was just going to have different perspectives on the same thing, but decided this might be even better! I really hope this is more successful than my previous fics. By the way, Chat room 118 got pulled off because it was 'based on a chat'. THAT WAS GONNA BE THE ONLY CHAPTER WITH THAT IN IT!! ~Regains self-control~ So, here we go!

When an assignment is given, it takes the students down a certain street... Memory Lane!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, the characters, events, and any type of noun created and/or owned by Craig Bartlett, Viacom, Snee-Osh, and Nickelodeon. I'm only but a fan of it all. But Professor Trelawny predicted that I'd one day raid the studios, take all of them hostage, and use Lord Voldemort to gain the ownership and rule the animation world with my faithful pet kitty! Oh, come on, it was so formal; you knew I'd twist it to my own insane ways! Plus, I've grown into my Harry Potter fanaticism when the 5th book... you know the story. I'm done, now. READ!

A/N: This is pre-movie, okay?

Prelude

The bell rang. The bell was a symbol of so many children's enslavement to the captivity of desks, paper, pencils, books, binders, and seven hours of lectures with only the half hour freedom that was consumed by, well, consuming lunch. For a certain class on the second floor, however, it meant an entire day's worth of the word 'special'.

"Hello, class!" Mr. Simmons, a cheerful, balding blond, mid-thirties man recited to about seventeen nine-year-olds.

"Good morning, Mr. Simmons," droned the class in the usual monotone sound that Simmons was one to fall short of noticing.

Smiling in the usual chipper way, he walked over to the desk and but his black briefcase on top of it.

"Well, let's get started into the special day!"

The class said nothing.

Clearing his thought, the teacher of the class said, "Ahem, yes, well, I have a very special topic for your morning writing assignments. Yes, I know, usually I allow you all to lurk into your special minds to see what you can write out-of-the-blue, but I think that this will be an enriching writing experience for you all!"

Once again, the class said nothing, but a few of the students were paying attention, if not vaguely, except for a few. The turn of the usual "take out your pencils and write what you're feeling this special morning" routine had some of the children wondering what exactly Simmons had in mind.

Seeing that some of his students were, in fact, being at least slightly attentive, told him to continue on. "Well," he said, drawing up dramatic tension (or what he thought it was), "I thought that you could write about your furthest and first memories, the first thing you remember about your life. It must be the very first one, and you can tell of it in any form you choose."

Now there were more than a few wide eyes, surprised (and a few other emotions) at what their teacher was proposing them to do.

"Now, I realize that for some of you..." A choice few of students sighed in relief, until... "might think of it hard to write this..." They slumped back into their chairs... "in such a short period of time. That is why I'm extending this assignment to be your English homework as well, and making it due in exactly one week."

Some of the choice few remained as they were, in a relieved mood, but the rest either widened their eyes or rolled them.

"All he you have to do," Mr. Simmons explained, "is to think back as far as you can and write what is there. Do it as specially well as you can, too, because this will be a major part of this nine-weeks English grade! So go back in that special brain of yours as far as you might and perhaps pick up your average!" All of this news was said in an excited way. It almost covered up the fact that if they didn't do well on this project, they're English grade for this nine-weeks would drop a tad or more, most likely the latter.

Smiling, Mr. Simmons looked at his class expectantly.

"Well," he said. "Get started!"

~*~

She looked down to her blank piece of paper. Usually this part of the day was a breeze. She just had to write something about her mushy thoughts on her crush and she'd receive and A+, along with a form of humiliation. Looking to past experience, she didn't exactly feel like putting what, at first thought, was her first and one of her favorite memories down on a paper Mr. Simmons would be reading. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her teeth, trying to think of something before or around that day, but she couldn't think of anything before and most things shortly after were related to the first subject!

She tore a piece of her blank white paper off and stuck it in her mouth, pulling out a long, wide straw in the process, but then spit it back into her hand and tossed it over her shoulder. It landed between her desk and Nadine's. She didn't exactly feel in the mood to take place in her usual classroom activities when her brain was tied in such a knot.

'I'll think of something later,' she thought, leaning back in her chair and pretending to write, while instead she doodled.

~*~

He sighed. It was quite easy to remember what he had just recently dreamed about. In fact, he wrote down every memory that came from that story, but he only jotted notes on it in his journal, and he had no idea how he'd transform thoughts from almost a lifetime ago into words for this paper to have a satisfied serving. Mr. Simmons had, occasionally, given topics for them to write on, and he usually did well, but they weren't as personal as this. He really didn't know how to write it.

Instinctively, he turned around. He didn't know why.

All he saw was the rest of his classmates chewing on their pencil erasers, brainstorming, writing feverishly, or staring up at the ceiling, thinking. He decided to join the latter group and laid his pencil down on his desk.

~*~

She closed her eyes in sadness and rested her face in her hand, slowly and almost unnoticeably shook her head. She smirked at the irony of it all, even though her insides were suddenly twisted when she thought about it. She took her thumb and index finger and rubbed them from the bridge of her nose down to her freckled cheeks. She hadn't ever told anyone her first memory, not even her closest friends. She had pushed it back, forgetting all about it and moving on. She became so happy once she had stopped thinking on it. Her old friends had of course known about it, because back then she could tell them, but she had never told her new friends because, one, she never wanted to think about it, and two, she didn't know how for certain they'd take it. And yet, in the place that she and one other had thought would take their mind off of it forever, she was suddenly reminded when she thought back. Deciding to wait until tonight to start, she took out her math homework and looked over it.

~*~

He most certainly did recall a few of his earlier reminiscences quite clearly. It was when he was five. He knew exactly how to write it. He started right away. It would be an amazing work of art, and perhaps he would get incredibly rich from it, perhaps change it a bit and become as famous as J. R. Tolkien! But he had to start on it soon, or else the effects of this inspiration would leave him forever!

~*~

Later that day... well, actually, later in the evening, for school had been out for about two hours, Mr. Simmons was still sitting in his classroom, going over lesson plans and homework, when a woman with rich brown hair cut short and a purple dress walked into the room, tapping on the open door. "Mr. Simmons?" she asked. "May I have a word with you?"

Looking up, the teacher smiled welcomingly, with a small hint of nervousness. "Yes, Dr. Bliss?"

The school psychiatrist walked into the room, holding her clipboard and sitting down in a desk in the front row. "Mr. Simmons, I'd like to talk to you about the assignment you gave your class this morning. The one about the memories."

Mr. Simmons furrowed his eyebrows and questioned, "How did you know I assigned that this morning, Dr. Bliss?"

She smiled, amused. "Word gets around the school, Mr. Simmons. Actually, I overheard Rhonda talking to a friend about it." She leaned forward, getting to the point.

Well, this is it. I know one or more of those little student parts were obvious, but hopefully one wasn't! Guess what? It's 1:30 in the morning/late night. This wasn't all, there'll be more chapters! Review and tell me what you think of it. That whole Bliss/Simmons conversation will finish in the next chapter, okay? Good. I'll update as soon as I can!

Phebga Madame Fortress Mommy