Hello, everyone. I'm back with another update for Longest Monday: Revenge of the 5th Graders. I'm gotten some really good feedback so far, so thank you to all of those who reviewed, followed and favorited.

So when we left off, Arnold and Gerald had agreed to make a plan for Trash Can Day, but our favorite football head was not as gung-ho about the idea as his classmates. Will that change this chapter?

Anyway, as always, please review as I love people's thoughts and critiques.

Enjoy!

Chapter 2. A Tuna Surprise

6 days before Trash Can Day

The next morning, Arnold woke up feeling quite peppy and the pit in his stomach was largely gone. He brushed his teeth, packed his school supplies, got himself dressed, and headed downstairs, knowing Gerald would be waiting for him soon.

"Heya there, short man!" his grandpa called as he grabbed a quick batch of bacon at the table where the rest of the tenants were enjoying breakfast.

"Hey, Grandpa!"

"You're in a good mood this morning. Any particular reason?"

"Just the promise of a new day, I guess," Arnold replied with a smile.

"Old man, make me breakfast. I'm starving over here!" called out a familiar Eastern European accent.

"Shut your hole, Kokaschka and make your own breakfast."

"Good morning my fellow safari travelers!" an old but strong voice rang out, bursting through the door. Arnold could have guessed it was his grandma, and today she was in her safari outfit, complete with a hat, machete sword and a plate of toast.

"Pookie, be careful with that thing," Grandpa said nervously as his wife hacked up the toast with erratic but timed precision.

"Nonsense, soldier. A guide is always an expert with her weapon and the knife is no exception."

Grandma Gertie turned towards her grandson and beamed a great smile.

"Well hello there, Kimba. Nice day for a trip to the savannah isn't it?"

Arnold could never tell whether his grandma was being serious or not, but he knew enough by now that going along with whatever she felt like doing that day was the best policy.

"Yes, it is, Grandma. Excellent toast by the way," he said munching on the meal she had provided.

"My, you are sweet, Kimba."

"Just telling the truth, Grandma," he smiled.

"Old man, this toast is too burnt."

"Go whine somewhere else, Oskar," Ernie Potts said rolling his eyes as he read the morning paper. He peered over it briefly and said, "Hey, Arnold, I think your friend is waiting for ya outside the door."

Sure enough, Gerald was standing on his stoop through the window, gesturing for him to come out.

"I gotta go, guys. Thank you for breakfast!"

"Don't mention it, Kimba!"

"Have a good day, short man!"

And with that he entered the street below, where Gerald stood, arms folded, ready to take on another day as they always were.

"My man you seem to be in a good mood today."

"You're the third person to notice that this morning. And yes, I am," Arnold replied.

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really. Just the promise of a new day is enough for me."

"Well let's hope going to P.S. 118 doesn't change that. Let's go."

The two friends set off together for school, as the sun shone down on them on another glorious spring day; the cracked pavement of the sidewalk guiding their way throughout the neighborhood.

"So, I did some thinking about Trash Can Day yesterday but I wanted to run it by you first."

Arnold could tell Gerald was implying more than just a typical conversation between the two of them. He had sensed his best friend's hesitation the previous day and was testing the waters.

"Go ahead, run it by me. I'm all ears."

Gerald smiled as he explained some of the details of his plan.

"So, you know Mrs. Vitello's? We almost got there last year. I was thinking we could place two people on fourth street and one on the back-alleyway entrance to prevent any fourth grader from trying to escape there…"

"Don't forget Mr. Green's meat shop. He could be another potential safe house."

"True, but we can't be spread out too much. Or else we won't have enough people to actually trash can the fourth graders."

"Good point. Maybe we can block off the street leading out of the school. Harold and Stinky would be big enough I think…"

The conversation went back and forth between the two friends as they walked to school, and by the time they got there, they had formed the foundations of a plan. It needed some serious tinkering, but it was something until more details could be worked out.

As they approached the entrance to P.S. 118, several of their fellow classmates were sitting outside on the steps.

"Hi, Arnold and Gerald," Stinky drawled. "How are ya'll today?"

"Just frosty, Stinky," Gerald replied with a pointed finger.

"What were you guys talking about just now?" asked Sid.

"As a matter of fact, we were just discussing the plan for Trash Can Day," said Arnold. "We were thinking of starting out by-

He was then cut off by a familiar bossy tone.

"Quiet you numbskulls!" Helga chided them in a loud whisper. "Do you really want the enemy to know what we're up to on the first day?"

She gestured to two fourth graders who had taken an interest in their conversation nearby, to which she responded by growling and raising her fist at them.

"Buzz off, fourth graders! Unless you want to feel the wrath of old Betsy here!"

They didn't need to be told twice, as the two fourth grade boys scurried away.

"Huh, they scare easier than I thought," Helga said with a smile.

"Yeah but you scare everyone," Sid pointed out.

"What was that?" the blonde girl whirled around with a vengeance.

"Nothing!"

Gerald shook his head, knowing better than most not to test Helga's volatile temper.

"Anyway, everyone just relax. Arnold and I got a plan going. We have plenty time to iron it out. Ya dig?"

"Yeah, yeah whatever, hair boy. Just make sure you keep your yap shut before next Monday. It wouldn't be the first time and you and Arnoldo screwed something up."

And with that, Helga stomped off into the building, shoving an unsuspecting Eugene down the steps as she did so.

"I'm okay!"

The other four boys only watched, unsurprised as they had seen this sort of thing too many times to count.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," Arnold muttered.

"Does she ever get up on the right side?" Gerald cracked.

"Touché, Gerald."

Just then the bell rang, signaling the start of school.

"Well, fellers. I reckon it's about that time," said Stinky.

And with that, they all headed inside to Mr. Simmons' classroom, lest they be tardy and receive detention from Principal Wartz.

The day went on like any other, as Mr. Simmons in his usual cheerful manner gave out a morning quiz and paired them up for projects that would be due the next week (Arnold was quietly relieved he had been paired with Phoebe this time around instead of Curly). Helga was no worse than usual- meaning that she fired her spitballs and Arnold, despite knowing it was her, could never catch her in the act.

He never thought about it much, because he knew getting upset would just be playing into Helga's hands. But now and again he wondered what he had done to draw the ire of the blonde girl. He had known her as long as he could remember and yet, as far as he knew, he had never done anything that could be considered offensive or belligerent towards her.

I need to test my theory at some point. Deep down I know there's more to her.

His inner dialogue was interrupted as the bell rang. It also spared him from being hit by spitball number sixty something (he had lost count by now). It was now time for lunch.

"Still think she's not that bad?" Gerald said, cracking a grin, as the class shuffled out of the room and into the hall.

"She makes it difficult at times," Arnold admitted. "But I'm convinced that she isn't all that she seems."

"How can you say that, Arnold? She literally threw sixty-two spitballs at you."

"Oh, that was the number?"

"I got bored listening to Simmons talk about algebra. The point is, the girl is just mean. No two ways about it."

"Okay then. Maybe you're right. But why would she kiss me last summer?"

Gerald shook his head.

"You're still on that? She even told you, herself. It was the heat of the moment."

"I don't know, Gerald. I want to believe you, but somehow, I can't. I can't shake the feeling that there's something more here."

As they walked down the hall they arrived in time to see Helga stuff something in her dress pocket, while at the same time, hit Brainy in the face with such force that it broke his glasses.

"Game. Set. Match," Gerald said triumphantly as they glanced at each other.

Arnold didn't feel like discussing the subject further, preferring in these moments to let his friend have the last word.

"Let's just go to lunch."

As they entered the cafeteria, however, it was Harold who was the first to greet them, and he was clearly amped up about something.

"You guys! You guys! The lunch ladies just threw out the entire batch of tuna surprise!"

This gave pause to the two boys.

"The entire batch?"

"That's right," said Phoebe who had come up to greet Gerald but explained the situation anyway. "Apparently, the latest catch was two weeks past the expiration date, making it inedible for human consumption. The lunch ladies just received word from the company who sold the fish."

"And it gets to sit in the garbage cans for almost a whole week!" laughed Harold. "You know what that means!"

"Trash Can Day is going to have a nasty surprise for those fourth graders," Gerald said crossing his arms. "Mm, mm, mm…who knew bad cafeteria food could have such a good use?"

This caused Phoebe to giggle, a fact that was not lost on Gerald, who gestured for her to grab a table with him, which she did rather happily.

Arnold and Harold followed them, as they again went outside to enjoy lunch.

"Hey, Arnold. How many fourth graders are you going to try and get?"

The blonde boy merely shrugged. "No idea, Harold. We've just been laying out the plan so far. Haven't really thought about it much."

"Well I'm going for the record. Wolfgang set it last year, but I think I can beat it!" and he pounded his large fist into his equally massive hand to emphasize the point.

The mention of Wolfgang made Arnold's stomach twinge a bit.

"Well, I hope you break it, Harold. It'll be a fun day for sure."

"Heck yeah!"

Walking over to the blacktop lunch table, Arnold could detect a faint, rotting smell over by the wall of the school. He looked and saw the lunch ladies dumping fish into the trash cans. For a split second, he imagined himself putting a fourth grader into one of those cans, all awash with stinking garbage.

Huh, tuna surprise.


Lunch came and went and with the ring of the bell (and quite a large belch from Harold) it was time to return to class.

Arnold, Gerald, Stinky, Sid, and Harold were all discussing baseball as they went back inside the school.

"I can't believe that anybody is going to beat the Yankees this year," Gerald said shaking his head. "They've only gotten better since they upset the Braves in the World Series."

"But they don't really have a true power hitter," Sid argued. "Now the Cleveland Indians on the other hand, they have at least six guys that can hit the long ball."

"Hitting home runs aren't everything, Sid," Arnold countered. "The Indians don't have the pitching to win it all. Now the Braves have three aces on one team. I don't see why they should be counted out."

"Well ya'll can harp on that statistical stuff. But I think the Florida Marlins have a real shot this year," Stinky chimed in.

"What?" Harold laughed. "The team named after a fish? No way they win the World Series!"

"I have to admit, the Marlins have improved this year," Gerald said rubbing his chin. "But they aren't good enough to beat the Braves or the Astros. Or the Yankees and Indians."

"Kinda have to go with, Gerald on that one, Stinky."

"Yeah!"

As they neared their home room, Arnold was about to point out that no team should be underestimated before the playoffs actually started in October, but he was not afforded the opportunity, as the next thing he knew he was being jerked into the boys' bathroom by an unknown force.

"What the-"

"Shhh! Relax, it's only me."

Arnold turned around and saw to his slight surprise it was a fourth grader named Robby Caldwell. He was considered something of the de facto spokesman for his grade and usually got along with most of the other students. He was shorter in stature to Arnold by about 2 inches but had a wirier frame. He had a short brown hair, green shirt and jeans, along with a few scattered freckles around the base of his nose. Arnold had never interacted with him much, but judging by the anxious look on Robby's face, he had a suspicion of what this was about.

"Robby?"

"Stay, quiet. I don't want any of your classmates to know we're talking."

"Is that why the faucet is still running?"

Robby glanced at the sink and turned off the water.

"Oh, forgot to turn it off. Anyway, I just wanted a chance to talk in private."

"This couldn't wait until after school?"

"Sorry, Arnold. Couldn't take the chance that you might be hanging out with the rest of the fifth graders."

The blonde boy tried to look curious as to what Robby wanted but he knew he didn't have much time before Mr. Simmons went looking for him.

"Look, Robby. I know you and the fourth graders are scared about Trash Can Day…"

"Thank goodness, you understand!"

"But-" he cut him off. "It's not a big deal. I went through it last year, the fourth graders before us went through it. It's nothing personal against you guys."

"Then why do it?" Robby asked.

Arnold supposed he didn't have a good answer for that. Truth be told, he didn't really know either.

"It's just tradition I guess," he said, echoing Gerald. "Anyway, like I said. Nothing personal."

"Arnold!" Robby practically shouted, and he began to fidget nervously. "You've already guessed why I pulled you in here, but I have to make my pitch anyway. Please, don't go through with Trash Can Day. Convince the other fifth graders to call it off."

Arnold had expected a plea of some sort not to get trash canned but asking him to convince his classmates to not go through with something they were looking forward to doing was probably unwise.

"Robby, I'm not sure I can do that. And even if I did, why are you asking me?"

"Because you're the only one who wouldn't laugh or pound me in the dirt for asking," and again Robby sounded audibly nervous. "Have you seen how big Harold is?...Anyway, everyone knows what a great guy you are. You always get people to see reason. Can't you do something?"

Arnold's first inclination was to politely decline and be on his way. But something about the fear in Robby's eyes was all too familiar. It was the same look, the same anxious foreboding that he had felt the previous year when facing down Wolfgang and his minions. He may not have been a fourth grader anymore, but he could never forget that. He could at least try to spare someone else the same thing.

"Alright, Robby. I must be crazy, but I'll talk to them."

The fourth grade boy immediately shook his hand vigorously, happiness abound on his freckled face.

"Thank you, Arnold! Thank you, so much!"

"Don't thank me yet. I can't promise anything."

But Robby didn't really listen as he sped out of the bathroom and into the hall, no doubt to tell the other fourth graders the good news.

Arnold immediately regretted letting Robby take advantage of his goodwill. He felt for him, but that didn't mean he was giddy at the prospect of asking his fellow fifth graders to cancel Trash Can Day. He couldn't see a scenario where they would agree to it.

Breathing a heavy sigh, he muttered to himself, "Man, what have I gotten myself into?"


Ah, the plot thickens! Our favorite do gooder has an interesting dilemma, one with no easy solution or perhaps no solution at all. Maybe our hero finally has a situation he can't solve, eh? Find out more in the next chapter!

Also, I threw some 90s sports references in there, as I'm nostalgic for that decade. Hope you can catch them!

~TheWasp