This one is a short one-shot. Not the most interesting piece ever, but I've always noticed just how messy Arnold's bed is in the early episodes. His room is disgustingly spotless in the later episodes, just like how they began to clean him up to be a pure saint. But in this piece, Arnold's endearing rascal-type habits remain. It happens right after "Arnold Goes Bad" in my story list.
It was a typical afternoon in Hillwood. Arnold was sprawled out on his bed looking up at the sky through his roof window. Pigeons came and went by his rooftop. His head cradled behind his hands, Arnold rested comfortably, content even. A discarded comic book lay draped across his knee.
His best friend, Gerald, was still engrossed in one of Arnold's comic books. Arnold, of course, had read them all before, so he did not mind it if Gerald solitarily pawed through his collection of comic books with eagerness. Arnold was happy to let his best friend spread out several heaps of comic books all over his couch so long as the boy put them all back when he was done. But as for him, he was less interested in re-reading books he had seen before and more interested in the bowl of seasoned popcorn he had brought up with him. It sat poised beside his bed, so Arnold rolled over onto his side to reach down, grasp a few kernels from the bowl, and pop them in his mouth. Some of the popcorn kernels, though had already escaped
bowl to lay messily on the carpet. There was an abrupt knock on Arnold's door.
"Hello, Arnold!" his Grandmother greeted the boy with a smile as she entered his room. In her arms she carried a basket of clean laundry. Arnold's grandma set it down on the floor. But then she looped her arms beside her hips and looked at the state of the room with a bit of scorn. There were socks hanging off Arnold's computer monitor. There were soup bowls perched on top of his watercooler fishtank. Most of all, it looked like his bed had exploded. Toys and trash bulged from underneath.
"Why, Arnold!" his grandmother said with a small bit of astonishment. "It looks like this room hasn't been cleaned since Franklin Delano Roosevelt's inauguration ball! Maybe it could use a bit of a scrub!"
Complacency turning into a sensation of uneasiness, Arnold sat up to set his comic book aside. He swung his legs down towards the floor.
"Yes, Grandma!" he acquiesced. Gerald clamped the comic book in his hand shut and rapidly began returning them to their box.
""Library lending time over, I guess, huh? Well, that's okay, Arnold. Maybe I can… you know drop by and finish reading them another time?"
"Any time, Gerald," Arnold said amicably. "Say, Gerald? Do you wanna stay a while and help me clean?"
"Huh?! Not particularly, but sure I'll help you out!" Gerald agreed with some reluctance. After all, cleaning Arnold's room didn't sound fun.
"That's kind of you, Gerald to help a friend! Here!" his Granda ordered but with kindness. "I'll leave a laundry hamper here. You boys fill it up with dirty clothes and I'll wash them, for you, alright Arnold?"
"Yes, grandma," Arnold nodded.
"Good boy! I'll have some snacks waiting for you two when you're done!"
"Hm," Gerald mumbled in thought when Arnold's grandmother had exited the room. "So what do you want me to do?"
"Well... you start at that corner, and I'll start over here!" Arnold declared. The two boys moved rapidly to create a giant mound of dirty clothes that towered high above their heads. It was an impressive heap.
"You know," Gerald observed resting a hand on Arnold's shoulder. "Maybe we should clean out under your bed, too. I know you probably don't feel like it… but you probably should. I mean… it kind of has a bit of an off odor."
"You're right," Arnold agreed. He kneeled down beside it to rummage around. He pulled a half-eaten tuna sandwich from beneath its depths.
"Could it have been this?" Gerald made a face as Arnold threw it away.
"Hm," Arnold murmured in speculation as he pulled a large halloween treat bag from under the bed. He opened it. Both he and Gerald looked inside.
"Those candies are from the first grade!" Gerald observed. "They're the nasty kind anyway that no one eats! Toss 'em." Arnold obediently hoop-shoot them into a trash bin.
"Ew. I wonder if it was this?" Arnold said holding his nose. Between two fingers, he held up a withered, blackened banana. Gerald made a nasty face.
"Man! What do you have down there?!" he said pointing to the underside of Arnold's bed. The blond-haired boy squeezed himself under the bed with a wiggle. He began to dig, furiously tossing things out to bounce and roll about his room.
"My old baseball glove, a broken rollerskate, more socks, old souvenir tickets, a toy bear I got from somewhere I don't know, an empty easter basket, books, coloring books and colored pencils, a cassette tape, Merry Christmas stickers, a lap easel, oil crayons, a paddleball, a hockey puck, a bag of marbles, kite tails…." Arnold listed off as he excavated the junk. "Hey, Purdy Boys volume 27! I didn't know I had that!" exclaimed Arnold. He thumbed through the front of the book.
"Oh, man! Sorting through all these things is gonna take forever!" Gerald complained. "Maybe we should shove them all back under the bed!"
"Nah," said Arnold shifting his fingers across his book's pages once more for good measure. "I should clean my room properly. It's been… like years!"
"Well, if that's how's it's gotta be!" Gerald shrugged. "But it's getting late and I think I'll skip the snacks and head on home for dinner. See ya around, my friend!" Gerald and Arnold did their friendship thumb shake. Arnold sat down and sifted through his things for a little while longer. The giant mess he had left unsorted waited for him, and principled, Arnold turned towards the mess to deal with it. He held one sock up in one hand and a stringless yo-yo in the other. Memories popped into his head as he looked at the junk. The stringless yo-yo was from the time he accidentally killed Eugene's pet goldfish. But there was a frisby there that provided a happier memory of Abner running through the park, catching it in his mouth until accidentally leaping after it straight down into a trashcan. The pig had rooted in the bin happily and Arnold had to fish him out. Abner had wagged his cute little springy, curled tail. Arnold picked up the broken rollerblade wheel to remember himself and all the other kids zooming around a course of bright orange cones in their school playground. His friends waved to him. These were happier memories and Arnold smiled.
"Hm," Arnold said, tossing two of the objects away and placing a paddleball and the frisbee into a small cardboard box. But then he yawned and the dinner chime rang. It was time for him to eat dinner with his grandparents and the borders. His hand on the bannister, Arnold slowly walked down the stairs. The boarders were rowdy at the dinner table as usual. They laughed and talked and caused general chaos. But Arnold politely ate his peas. Grandma Pookie set a bowl of hot mashed potatoes next to Arnold.
"More butter, Arnold? It's good!" she smiled, coaxing the boy to eat more. But Arnold's plate was nearly full as it was.
"No, thanks Grandma," Arnold replied.
"Is something wrong, Arnold?" his grandmother asked. "You never came down for your snacks. Peanut butter and shrimp on melba toast."
"Well… I never really finished cleaning Grandma. I dunno," said Arnold rubbing one of his eyes in a weary fashion. "I suppose I'll finish it tomorrow."
"Well thank you for your effort, tadpole," Grandma Pookie said with great warmth of heart. "Remember, Arnold! The greater the effort.. The greater the victory!" She swung her fist for enthusiastic measure.
"Yeah," Arnold agreed calmly.
Soon it was time for Arnold to go to school again. He strolled across the playground of P.S. 118 to enter through the back door along with many of the other kids. It was not long before he was seated in his usual chair next to the door with Helga seated directly behind him.
"Yeesh, Arnoldo," Helga commented with one half of her monobrow lifted. "You sure took your time. The bell's about to ring!" Helga lifted her hand, and just at that moment, the bell did ring. Arnold rolled back his shoulders in a shrug.
"I made it in time," he said leveling a stare at Helga. She whipped her head away from his gaze to stare out into space. Helga was upset again, but Arnold couldn't fathom why.
"It's NOT like I care!" Helga sniffed at last. But Gerald jabbed Arnold with the soft eraser-tip of his pencil to speak behind his hand.
"Psst, she was complaining she wanted to show you something this morning this whole time. I've got a flippin' headache, man," said Gerald. Helga grit her teeth in a savage way that showed she was now furious with Gerald for revealing her secrets.
"I was NOT complaining!" Helga wailed. "And if you've gotta a headache, tough! But I did wanna ask if your heard about the upcoming monster truck rally." Helga took out a page from a paper folder and handed it to Arnold. The boy stared at it mutely for a while as he read. But there was no more time for reading things like that, for their teacher's voice could be heard.
"Hello, class!" Mr. Simmons declared with as perky an attitude as usual. "Good morning everyone. Today I hoped that we might speak in detail about the essay that will be due at the end of the month." The class moaned but the teacher shook a finger at them. "Now, now, class! It isn't as bad as you think. I'd like you to write three, double-spaced pages about what hopes or dreams and expectations you might have about your very, exciting, very special future! I know that all of you might not know exactly what is ahead of you. That's the exhilarating part of life, the adventure of not knowing how every day will turn out to be. But I want all of you to use all of your imagination to come up with a vision for what your life might be like when you are grown-up."
"So we just have to write down what we will be doing when we are grown-up?" Rhonda asked propping herself up in her seat before plopping down, crossing her ankles and ankles, then looking away with a disdainful sniff. "That's easy. I'm going to be wealthy. And a fashion designer."
"I'm gonna sell lotsa meat!" Harold blurted out with sudden joy at the turn of the conversation. "After all, I do kinda work at the butcher shop now. I can see myself helping there when I grow up, too! And I'll always have plenty of food to eat!" The boy rubbed his bulging tummy with pleasure.
"I wanna be… a superspy!" said Sid smoothing his cap back and pointing his two fingers gun-like off into the distance.
"Huh! That's unlikely!" Rhonda dissed. But Mr. Simmons smiled at Sid's suggestion.
"Now, now, Rhonda, this assignment isn't just about what's likely or not. It's about all of your hopes and dreams. This is a chance to express your not just about your expectations but the possibilities which are before you. This essay will be fun to write, I just know it! So remember, class, three pages, neatly written in black ink. Not lime-green or yellow ink... EVER again. It took me five days to decipher your assignments last time."
"Aw," Harold moaned with disappointment.
"Shoot," Stinky Peterson asked. "There goes our easy way of gittin' our homework done. I never figured you'd persevere enough to check if we were right!" the boy blabbed as he accepted a graded homework sheet back from his teacher. One out of ten was written as a fraction in the corner of the page.
The end of the school day came and Arnold returned home with two school books tucked under his arm. He tromped into his room and lay the books on his desk. Then he turned his attention to his homework. Arnold placed a fresh sheet of paper on his desk and wrote his name and the words, "Essay on my Future Life," at the top. But the boy stared at the empty page in vain. He tapped the pencil tip against his cheek. He leant on one knuckle and rapped the desk with his pencil as he thought. But for one night, no brilliant aspirations came to Arnold. He pulled out a second sheet to scribble down a hasty list.
"Archeologist? No. Comic book artist? No. Architect? No. Newscaster? No." Arnold said crossing everything out on his list as soon as he wrote it. Arnold yawned. "Maybe I'll take a nap first!" Yes, procrastination had overruled principle, so the golden-haired boy climbed up onto his blue-spread to shut his eyes. He dropped off to sleep.
Arnold was the king of dreams, both daydreams and night time fantasies. So when he shut his eyes, the boy found himself in a faraway place. But it was not some exotic country local, this time that he found himself in. It was himself marching under his bed. Somehow, he had shrunk and the bed had grown larger so that the undergirders towered over him like the structural support ribs of a cathedral. At the far end of darkness was a bright window with light flooding through it and a wall with elegant wallpaper. Arnold steered himself towards this welcoming light. He found himself beside a cozy kitchen table surrounded by three windows along one side. A man taller than himself was seated there, his face obscured by a newspaper but with shocks of golden, spiky hair like his sticking out over the newspaper.
"Um, hello?" Arnold queried, hoping his hunches about this dream with right. The man lowered the newspaper and Arnold found himself staring at an older version of himself. The elder Arnold folded his newspaper neatly, laid it down on the table, and folded his hands together to rest them on the table.
"Can I help you, young man?" Arnold the elder asked. The boy child looked up at his older self. He wore a tormented angst on his face.
"Hi, my name's Arnold! And if you're me… well. I want ask. What will my future be? Will I be happy? Will I do great things? Will I be healthy? Will I live to be a grown-up at all?"
"I hope so!" the elder Arnold said, considering his counterpart by tucking a hand under his chin. "Don't go darting before any cars! Because I'm happy! I like the life I live now."
"Can I ask you a little about it?" Arnold asked sitting down at the other side of the table. But the other Arnold stood and gestured him towards a side of the room that failed to be wall. It was a mysterious dream space instead.
"Come with me," the man said. Arnold stepped forward only to find himself alone. Only now he was grown-up himself. He possessed the body of the very being he had been speaking with earlier. Arnold looked around himself, then down. A stethoscope lay around his neck.
"Will I be a doctor?" Arnold inquired to the air.
"If you want to be," came a mysterious voice. Arnold walked forward again, and this time he found himself in an exotic rainforest with a net in his hand. He swooped it down to catch a flying insect.
"Will I be a scientist?" Arnold asked the air again.
"Maybe. You tell me. It's up to you, after all."
"But how do I know? How do I get there?" Arnold asked the air. Suddenly young again as he passed through the door, he walked forward to a room littered with paintbrushes and scrap paper. An easel was propped up in the corner. A girl in pink was painted there. He could have sworn it moved. The girl's dress was pink but her face was turned away so that he could not see.
"And who will I marry?" Arnold asked the air as he studied the painting. He startled as the mysterious voice spoke right behind his back so that the sound of her breath whistled past his ear. A slender figure was standing there.
"Yeesh, I don't know that!" the figure complained loudly, her hands at her hips. "Do you think I can divine a future you haven't yet chosen? It's up to you to act, not me!"
"Cecil?" Arnold gulped as he whirled about. His pretend date from Valentine's day stood beside him with a glare that was eerily similar to Helga's.
"You should ask your future self!" she griped. "He knows!" the girl opened a door from her studio loft into the kitchen Arnold had visited earlier. His future self was still there, seated at his breakfast table. The child Arnold looked at him angrily, hungry for answers.
"So who will I marry?" Arnold repeated. "Will I marry at all?"
"I think you will," the elder version of himself said, folding his newspaper again. This time, he strode out onto a porch and Arnold followed after him as the man leant backwards against the rail to look up at the sky, a broad, contented grin on his face.
"So who is it?" Arnold demanded impatiently. "Who will it be?"
"Someone extraordinary. I think you'll be happy. I know I am."
"That's not exactly answering the question," Arnold commented, grumpy but calmer. The dream, elder version of himself stared him deep in the eyes and smiled.
"The answer to every question starts, not in the answer itself, but in the asking of the question. You need to take the first step of a journey to make it real. You need to find the things you do not know, in order to start the search to fill in the knowledge that is lacking. Does that help?"
"Um, no!" Arnold complained. "That's sounds really complicated. Can't you just tell me?"
"No one can tell you these things but yourself, Arnold," the dream Arnold said with a smug smile. "You need to shape the future yourself as best you can. Do the very best you can to make good choices in life. Things will fall into place."
"Oh," Arnold complained. The light around him began to blur, pulling him into consciousness. With a snap, Arnold opened his eyes to find himself not in his dreamworld, but on the calming blue comforter in his room. He heard the chime of the dinner bell downstairs.
"Arnold, supper! Grandma Pookie asked. ""How's the homework going, Arnold?" she asked as she spooned a bit of goop onto his plate. "You shouldn't stay up too late on a school night!"
"I wasn't doing my homework, grandma," Arnold explained, feeling it was important. "I was taking a nap."
"Naps? I love naps." Arnold's grandpa piped up. "Only problem with naps is it interferes with regular sleeping. Can't do both at the same time now! Or can you?" Grandpa said scratching his grin. For the time being, Arnold ignored his irregular question.
"I won't stay up too late, Grandma. I promise. Excuse me," Arnold said. With a soft, happy smile for his loved ones, he got up from the dinner table to make his way up to his room. He switched on the light at his desk. Then he began to write his essay, speaking the words out loud.
At length, the day the essay was due arrived. Arnold carried his books and homework with him to the bus stop, as well as a small cardboard box. He and Gerald walked past Mrs. Vitello's flower shop. Their friendly neighbor was watering two giant pots of flowers marking the entrance to her shop. She turned off her hose with a metallic squeak.
"Hello boys. You off to school?" Arnold and Gerald nodded yes.
"Yes," Arnold said in confirmation of the simple answer.
"What are you learning these days? American history? Geography? These things are important don't you know!"
"Actually, I'm doing a lot of math lately. And an essay. It's due today but I don't know about it. Hopefully I'll get a passing grade!" Arnold said with a touch of trepidation.
"Now why is that? Having trouble with homework doesn't sound like you! You're such a sharp boy, you know!" Mrs. Vitello asked looking down her overlarge nose.
"Well, it's an essay about 'the future'. Only I don't know about the future so I made a few basic guesses. I really didn't go into enough detail!" Arnold said with an embarrassed cough and shrug. It was not his best work and he knew it.
"The future, huh?" Mrs. Vitello asked with a smile. "So what do you have planned? You're a smart boy! You'll go to university, I bet!"
"I hope so!" Arnold uttered. "I just don't know what I'd major in yet."
"You'll be alright, Arnold," Mrs. Vitello said sagely. "I know you will! Just find a passion and follow it! You'll find your way in time."
"Thanks, Mrs. Vitello," Arnold said. "That's really nice of you," the boy uttered with deep appreciation for his neighbor. Then he remembered something. Arnold rummaged through his cardboard box and pulled a rosy-red flower vase from its depths. "Would you like a vase, Mrs. Vitello? I'm giving away some of my old things."
"Why, that's very sweet of you, dear!" Mrs. Vitello said with a smile. "But thanks, I'm all set. I can sell you some flowers to put in it!"
"No thanks, ," Arnold coughed at her attempt of a sale. "See ya around." The boy strode down the street still carrying his box. Luckily, it was light because he carried it all the way to his classroom to set it down on his school desk. Arnold took the paddle ball out and offered it to Stinky Peterson. He gave a few old toys to Sid and Harold and a tiny kite to Sheena. His friends all smiled at his gifts. But Helga was waiting for him to return to his desk.
"Yeesh. About time, Arnoldo!" she groused. "It's like you get slower and slower each day! What took you so long?" Arnold ignored Helga's comments to reach down into his now nearly empty cardboard box.
"Rubix cube?" he said offering it to Helga's hand.
"What the heck?" said she before tucking it into her desk. Arnold folded up the box and threw it away. The class bell rang. Arnold lay the essay he had written on his desk. Poor or not, he was resolved to turn it in.
"Pst, pst!" Helga said, pestering him. Arnold turned back in his chair.
"What did you write?" Helga whispered under her breath as the class was beginning. "I wrote become the corporate exec' of a candy bar company myself!" Helga declared, slightly proud of herself.
"I wrote down that in the future I want to be happy," Arnold spoke softly back to his friend. "I don't know what that means exactly, but…" Arnold trailed off. He turned his head back towards the front of the room as Mr. Simmons spoke.
"Now class!" Their teacher declared proud of himself. "I will collect all of your essays to grade. But for this assignment, I thought we would all like to share. So if you'd like, you can come up in front of the class and read a paragraph from your essay for one extra credit point! Stinky, Harold! I think you both could benefit from this extra point!" Mr Simmons said with blunt emphasis. Stinky Peterson stood up on his feet. Thoughtful, Arnold surprised himself by lifting his own hand into the air.
"Yes, Arnold?" asked Mr. Simmons. "Would you like to read?"
"Yes. I would," Arnold said clearing his throat as he looked down at his rather vague and unspecific plan for his future.
"In the future," Arnold began. "I would like to be surrounded by all the people I love and care about. I'd like to stay in Hillwood, my home, and see it prosper. I want to have a good job for myself helping people. I'd like to get married someday," said Arnold. At these words, Helga's eyes began to be darty and sneaky looking and she looked everywhere but at Arnold as her cheeks flushed.
"I'm not sure exactly what or where I will go to college, but I'd like to go to enough school to be smart. Then I'll move back to Hillwood to begin a career. I have several ideas about what this might be, but all of them… are good," Arnold ended reading his introductory paragraph with a bow. Mr. Simmons applauded him.
"That was fantastic, Arnold!" Mr. Simmons said with a smile. "Have you ever considered being a school teacher? Very rewarding!" he said with a wink. Mr. Simmons came around the classroom and collected all of their papers.
At last, the final school bell of the day rung. Arnold and his friends shuffled out into the daylight. The weather was great outside.
"Great!" Gerald said. "I'll go get our gloves from my locker!"
"You up for some baseball today?" Arnold asked Helga who was standing nearby as usual.
"Pfft! Always, Hair-boy!" Helga sneered. "Wait right here! I'll be right back!" Helga demanded. But she looked happy as she went to get her sporting gear. Soon a knot of Anrold's friends were ready to make the walk to Gerald's field.
"Hm, that was a tough homework assignment," Arnold mused one last time before putting it all behind him.
"Tell me about!" complained Gerald. "I'm young so my life is one spanking new blank book! So I just made up something cool about being a super crimefighter or somethin'. Not that it'll really happen!" Gerald admonished. "I'll probably be an accountant or somethin'!"
"I'm sure you'd be good at it!" Arnold said, tranquility in his gaze. He took up position in the baseball field. "I just hope the future doesn't come too early! I'm kinda enjoying today now!"
"You said it my brother!" Gerald declared as he sunk a baseball into Arnold's glove in a game of catch. The other kids ran around the field taking up their bases. Helga crouched down at homebase. A new baseball game was about to begin and so it was a good enough day for now. They'd go on in Hillwood, one day and one step at a time. The end.