Angel: I GOT A CAR! WAHOO!

Arnold stares at the front in boredom as he sits next to his sister. Suddenly, a spit ball is thrown at the back of his head. "Hey," he turns around in annoyance. Helga makes another one and stands up, throwing it at his head. He turns back again. "Hey, who's doing that? Cut it out." He looks at Helga, who gives an innocent look.

"What? What?"

He sighs and turns around, continuing to take notes. "Arnold, what a boob. And yet..." Helga sighs lovingly. "What a dreamboat." She looks around for anyone spying before she opens her math book, revealing a secret compartment for a pink book. She opens it up, putting her pencil to her chin.

Your eyes. like two green jelly beans, are pools I want to swim. In the classroom, my heart doth swoon...yet, I want to beat your face in.

Helga closes the book with a sigh. Soon, the bell rings and school is over. Gerald, Amy, and Arnold get on the bus and sit down. "Move it, move it!" Helga pushes students out of the way, stomping past Arnold. She cuts a piece of his hair and he turns around. Helga glares at him. "What are you looking at, geek bait?" He turns back in his seat, crossing his arms. Helga sits in the back of the bus, taking out her diary. She sighs lovingly at the piece of hair, sniffing it.

"Suddenly I feel inspired..." She pulls out a bandage, using that to tape down the lock of hair. Turning to a blank page. "I close this tone with my signet beloved. H is for the head I'd like to punt, e is for every time I see the little runt, l is for longing for our firstest kiss, g is for how good that longing is," she presses her head against the window before snapping out of it, "And a is for Arnold, of course. Duh!"

When the bus stops, Helga stands in front of Arnold, who's in her way. "One side, moron," he moves out of the way and when she puts her book in her bag, it drops onto the pile of books near Amy, Arnold, and Gerald. Helga gets off, not even noticing. The three get off at their stop and Gerald notices the book.

"Hey, what's this little pink book?" He picks it up.

"It isn't yours?" Arnold asks.

"Please," he retorts and they glance at Amy. She shakes her head.

"It's not mine. Besides, my book has way more decoration," She holds up a pink book with stickers on it. Gerald opens it and starts laughing.

"What's so funny?" Arnold wonders as Amy tries to peek.

"Oh guys, who wrote this stuff?"

"What is it?" Arnold tries to snatch it, but Gerald holds it away.

"Listen to this. 'To Arnold, with the red hot lips.' "

"Huh?" The football head boy asks in confusion.

"They're not even red..." Amy murmurs.

" 'Your football head, your awesome face, your grungy cheeks, your cat-like grace," everyone around them starts listening in. " 'Whose red-hot lips do I wanna taste? Three guesses, stupid! Arnold, Arnold, Arnold!' " Everyone starts laughing with him and Arnold looks around nervously.

"Well, it must've been some other Arnold," he insists, already feeling embarrassed.

"I dunno," Grandpa Phil nudges him. "It fits your description pretty well, hot lips!"

"Grandpa!" Arnold yells as he snickers.

"Sorry, boy, couldn't resist."

"Grandpa, you're making it worse," Amy turns to him.

"Oh, worried that you don't have a secret admirer, my little pumpkin?" He pats her head and she gives a blank look.

"Gimme that!" Arnold snatches the book from Gerald.

"Hey, let me read one!" Everyone around continues to laugh as the three kids leave.

"So long, Romeo!"

Helga is just arriving home, sitting on her stoop. She opens her bag, but is surprised to find no book. She pulls her textbooks out frantically before throwing the rest to the ground. She gasps in realization, remembering she dropped it...with Arnold's books. "Oh my..." She screams, car alarms going off. Helga runs down the stairs, running as fast as she can. No matter what, Arnold could not know that it's her book.

Gerald takes the book from Arnold's hands as they approach the boarding house. "Hey!"

"Listen to this one. 'Let me count the-' "

"Shut up!" Arnold covers his ears and Amy rolls her eyes. Helga approaches the corner before hiding and Amy sees her.

"Huh? What's she doing here?"

"Why, why did I sign my name? I was too bold! Those poems weren't meant to be seen! Until I'm dead and buried, and worms have consumed my flesh! Arnold must never see that last page!" Helga declares.

"So you like my brother, huh?"

Helga's eyes widen like saucers as she turns to Amy, who's crossing her arms. "Amy! U-Uh...what you heard...it wasn't...I didn't..."

Amy smiles a little. "So you're just pretending to hate him so he doesn't suspect anything, huh? I have to admit, that is pretty clever..."

"Amy," Helga grabs her by the shirt. "I swear, if you tell anyone, I'll-"

"You'll beat me up, I got it. I won't tell him," Amy sweats a little.

"Good," she places Amy down. "Now do me a favor. See if you can stop him from reading that last page!"

"This is my brother we're talking about. I'm gonna need a lot of luck," she crosses her arms. "You do what you can in the meantime." She leaves, Helga leaving in relief.

"Alright, good...she won't tell. Now I just have to make sure it stays that way."

"Ah, I'll steal it inside their room, somehow," she stands on the left side.

Arnold and Gerald walk into the twins' room, Amy following a little far behind. "What took you so long?" Arnold asks curiously and she waves her hands.

"Um, I was...feeding Abner!" Abner is their pet pig.

"Okay...there are ways to find out who wrote those poems, Gerald. We just have to be scientific," Gerald reaches out to grab it, but Arnold stops him. "Wait! Don't touch that. It's evidence," he grabs the book with two pencils. He opens a page to see a piece of his hair and a pencil. "No bite marks on the pencil. The strands of hair...first, we make a list of suspects."

"W-Wait, we don't really need to go through all this. We could just, um, return the book at school tomorrow! Wouldn't they like it back?" Amy says nervously.

"I need to know who's writing these poems about me, Amy."

"Okay," Gerald grabs a notepad. "Who was there at the bus stop? Let's see..." Arnold paces around, glancing at Amy.

"You're not gonna help?"

"N-No," she inches towards his desk and he stands in front of her.

"Amy, get away from it," he gently pushes her to the bunk beds. "Go do your homework or something." She groans to herself, since Arnold was not gonna let her near his desk.

"Jennifer was there," Gerald points out as Amy looks out the window.

"The one who always chews with her mouth open? Ugh, no way," Arnold shakes his head in disgust.

"Bodie?"

"Not!"

Amy pulls out a large piece of white paper, writing something on it.

"Hmm...some older girls were there," Gerald recalls, reminding Arnold of a certain someone.

"Wait a minute. Ruth McDougal was there..." He could just see her...Ruth is a tall sixth grader with a blue sweater and plaid skirt. Her brown hair is shoulder-length, styled in two long hanging pigtails in the back of her head. She has braces when she smiles... "Ruth..."

"Arnold," Gerald snaps him out of it. "She's in the sixth grade."

"It could happen," Arnold argues, Amy rolling her eyes as she shows Helga a message:

'No dice.'

"Dream on," Gerald tells him. While Amy thought Ruth was friendly enough, she didn't think that she was the right girl for Arnold. After all, she was too old for a fourth grader. Now Helga on the other hand was a perfect match the more she thought about it. Yes, it might seem...unlikely for some people, as the saying goes: 'Opposites attract.'

"Only one way to find out. We need to collect some evidence from every girl on that list. Well, except Amy, she already denied it."

"Eww," Amy sticks her tongue. "Arnold, you're my brother and all, but I would NOT write poems about you. Especially not those kinds."

"But that'll take all day!" Gerald refers to collecting evidence.

"Not with Abner," Arnold whistles with two fingers, the pig storming into the room. Gerald laughs as Abner circles him.

"A pig? What's he gonna do?"

"Don't doubt Abner," Amy bends down and pets him. Abner nuzzles her and she laughs.

"Here boy," Arnold holds out the book. "Sniff this." He sniffs it like a dog before his eyes widen, running out the door.

"Wow, look at him go!" The three follow after the pig, Amy silently hoping that Helga had gotten her message. Arnold closes the door before running back and putting the book against Amy's flower pot. Helga climbs up the ladder, Abner approaching.

"Hey Abner, wait up!" Arnold shouts. Helga looks around the corner, gasping and hiding herself. "Wait up!" Amy skids to a stop, glancing back at her brother and Gerald.

"Sorry Helga, he insists on finding out who wrote it! I couldn't get it in time," she whispers.

Helga growls in annoyance. "Hey, you asked me to keep your secret! He didn't read the page yet, did he?" Amy waves her off, running after her brother. "But he left the book on the dresser near our beds!" Helga climbs up to the roof, peeking through the window.

"Aha!" The window is suddenly opened and she falls inside. "Ow." She shakes her head, looking around in awe. "I'm...I'm in his room...well, his and Amy's, anyway. A place I've often visited in my dreams..." She picks up a sock. "The temple of your soul...my love." She sighs, laying down on the bottom bunk. She sniffs the pillow, gasping. "Oh my gosh! What is that shampoo?" She looks up, seeing the book right where Amy said it was.

She runs up to it and climbs, but hears someone coming. She falls to the ground, looking towards the door. "Go on, Abner. Go on downstairs." She gasps, running into the closet. One side was Amy's clothes while the other was Arnold's.

"I don't know," Gerald opens the door to the room, Amy looking around for Helga. "Abner may be a good tracking hound, but he's a lousy detective."

"I'll say," Arnold throws down mushrooms that Abner had found. One of them falls near the closet. Helga cringes, putting her fingers to her teeth. "Hey, wait a minute. Something's wrong here. Something's...missing..."

"Whatever it was, I borrowed it!" Amy suddenly exclaims.

"No, not that. I know!" Arnold steps forward, Helga's teeth shattering, realizing that she took one of Arnold's socks. He pulls out the remote, turning on some music and lights. "That's better." Both Amy and Helga sigh in relief. "Let's get down to the evidence." Arnold opens up his backpack. "Exhibit one, a drinking glass from Jennifer's cafeteria tray," he gives it to Gerald carefully to bag it.

"Check."

"Exhibit two, Dodie's retainer," he holds up a food-covered retainer, Amy looking in disgust.

"Check."

"Exhibit three, Ruth McDougal's hair ribbon." Helga growls at this revelation and Amy cringes, having heard said growl. If there was anyone for Helga to really hate, it was anyone Arnold had a crush on. And Ruth was no exception.

"Fingerprints," The three have lab coats on, along with a make-shift forensics desk. Arnold pulls down a magnifying glass, looking at Jennifer's cup. "Yup. They're human." He looks at a page in the book, noting that the fingerprints are not a match. "Negative."

Gerald eyes the retainer, holding it up against the pencil. "Negative."

Helga looks at her watch, wondering how much longer it would take before she could get her book and get out!

"Alright, now Ruth's hair ribbon," Amy takes it from Arnold as he was sniffing it. She plucks a hair, eyeing it.

"Is it Ruth's hair? Is it, huh?" Arnold asks excitedly. Amy shakes her head, though to be honest, she was thankful she already knows the true writer. They do some tests, Helga watching. Arnold sighs as they wait. "So guys, when these results come out, will we finally found out who wrote the poems?"

"No," Amy sighs in relief. "I was just making hot chocolate." Arnold gives him a blank look and Amy licks her lips as Gerald offers her some. She sees Helga peeking, gesturing for her to go back in the closet.

"Okay, based on our research, we can safely reduce that our suspect is female, lives in the Tri-State area, and is somewhere between the ages of 8 and...87."

"Ooo, we're doing good," Gerald places his hands on his hips.

"Arnold, that's practically three fourths of the whole city," Amy rolls her eyes, sipping her drink. "Mm, marshmallows."

"Okay, okay, let's narrow the field a little," he walks towards the bookshelf. "This yearbook has the autograph of everybody at PS 118. We're gonna compare handwriting of each suspect on the list." Amy's eyes widen.

"Oh no..." Helga laments as they sit on the bottom bunk.

"Let's start with Ruth McDougal," Arnold says dreamily.

"Arnold, face it, man. It's not Ruth, it never was Ruth, it's never gonna be Ruth!" Gerald lays it straight with him. "Okay?"

"Or just maybe s-she purposely changed her handwriting because she was shy to let me know how much she really cares," Helga bites her finger to keep herself from screaming.

"Bro, I'm telling this because I care about you..." Amy places her hands on her shoulders seriously. "Arnold? You're crazy."

Gerald bursts into laughter and Arnold pushes her hands away. "Whatever! Abigail V. Arnstead. Nope, definitely not. Jennifer Barnes..." By the time he gets to the O's, it's already dark. Amy is asleep on his pillow. Arnold drapes his blanket over her. "Amy Obliever."

"Hey Arnold, I give up. The next name on this list is Helga Pataki." They burst into laughter, Amy opening her eyes in slight annoyance. Helga scowls, clenching her fist.

"You hear something?" Gerald sits up. Helga covers her mouth.

"Must be coyotes...my sister doesn't snore," they glance at Amy.

"Let's face it, Arnold. We're stumped." Gerald jumps off his bed. "We aren't any closer to figuring this out and we've been working all day." He yawns, slumping. "Let's take a break."

"Yes, yes!" Helga silently cheers, clapping her hands at her opportunity. "Take a break!"

"Let's go down to Slausen's and get an ice cream cone."

"Hm, yeah," Arnold closes the yearbook. "I could go for some ice cream."

"Yes, ice cream! Good plan!" Helga whispers.

"Then again..."

"Aw, come on, Arnold!" Gerald insists.

"Well..."

"Go, go!" Helga cheers in the closet.

"What's that?" Gerald turns to the closet, having heard her.

"I've gotta stop talking to myself!"

"Are you sure you don't hear something?" Gerald eyes the closet, but doesn't go to investigate.

"Look, we're both tired," Arnold gets off his bed. "I'm just gonna go right to bed. Besides, Amy wouldn't like it if we went to Slausen's without her. You know how much she loves that place."

"Okay," they do their secret handshake. "See you tomorrow, Arnold. "Goodnight, princess," Gerald ruffles Amy's hair a little and he waves as he leaves.

"See ya." Helga pulls out her phone. It looks like she was gonna stay here for the night.

"Come in, this is Mighty Falcon. Mighty Falcon." She sighs. "It's me, Phoebe, Helga. Listen, call my mom and tell her I'm sleeping over with you. Just do it!" She hangs up, the lights turning off. She looks to see Arnold carrying Amy to her bed. He climbs down and goes to sleep.

"Goodnight, sweet prince," Helga closes the door.

The next morning, at 7 AM, Arnold shuts off his alarm, yawning. Helga looks exhausted. Arnold gets dressed, Amy climbing down. Arnold picks out his clothes for her and she rolls her eyes, Arnold putting the diary in his pocket. Helga falls down to the floor in exhaustion and Amy's eyes widen.

"I thought you went home..."

"No! I have to get it back no matter what!"

Amy stays silent before leaving the room. Maybe if she kept Helga's secret, she'd be more nice to her...it'd be a nice change of pace, that's for sure. She walks down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Morning, Shortman and pumpkin," Grandpa Phil places Amy's breakfast in front of her. "Ever find out who your secret admirer is?"

"Nah. Whoever it is, I wish they'd go jump up a rope." Amy slaps his arm.

"When I was your age, I did, well, I don't actually remember, but still, you're pretty darn lucky to have someone who cares about you so much," he ruffles Arnold's hair.

"You know," Arnold flips his hair back up. "It is kinda cool. Obsessive, but cool. See you later, Grandpa. Come on, sis," he grabs Amy's hand and backpack, running off with her.

"Book's gone straight to the kid's head."

"A little twerp who sets my soul aflame. Put them all together, they spell Arnold," everyone else laughs while Helga approaches, looking terrible. Arnold is reading from the diary.

"Hey, Helga. What's wrong with you? You sleep in a closet or something?" Stinky giggles, Helga shoving him into a garbage can.

"Aw, man Arnold, that is the corniest poem yet." Helga sees the diary, eyes widening.

"Whoever wrote 'em is pathetic. Read another one," A small tear falls from Helga's eye and Amy sweats a little.

"Arnold, I don't really think-"

"Okay, but it's the last page." Helga gasps, Amy looking around in panic. "Here we go. H is for the head I'd like to punt. E is for every time I see the little runt. L is-" Helga runs up, tears out the page from the book, and chews it. "Hey! What'd you do that for?"

She throws the spitball at him. "First spitball of the day, Football Head. Yes!"

"What is it with her?" Arnold wonders, Gerald. Helga hugs the piece of hair, swooning as Stinky calls for help in the trashcan, which rolls away.

"This really bites! Help me, help me!"

Field Trip

The class are riding the bus to the aquarium. "Nothing like a field trip, huh guys?"

"What?" Arnold is distracted. "Oh, are we at the aquarium yet?" He cleans up the foggy window, Harold spitting a spitball at Eugene.

"No," Amy shakes her head.

"But we'd better get there soon. Everyone's getting kinda restless," Gerald looks at everyone else.

"I'll say," Arnold comments, everyone horsing around. Harold appears in front of them, holding a milk carton.

"Look, I'm a whale!" He chugs his milk before squirting it out of his nose, splashing the three. He laughs as the three are unamused. Everyone laughs along with him. They pass a newspaper stand.

"What do you mean, you've never been to the aquarium?" Gerald asks the twins.

"Well, last time we had a field trip there, we were in the first grade. Amy and I had the chickenpox," Arnold explains.

"Yeah, sharing a room can have its disadvantages," Amy rubs her arm.

"It was great!" Gerald recalls. "They had this tidepool thing, full of those gross bat rays you can touch with your fingers. It was really slimey and disgusting. I went back nine times."

"And they got a penguin named Stewart that eats its own barf!" Joey Stevenson jumps down from the cable.

"And a sea snail who can draw a replica of the Mona Lisa with his slime trail!" Eugene jumps down. "Of course, I can do that too," he wipes his nose with his sleeve. He shows his arm. "See?"

"Dweeb!" Harold comments.

"And," Gerald jumps down from the seat. "They've got Lockjaw."

"Yeah, Lockjaw!" The other students say in excitement.

"Lockjaw? Who's Lockjaw?" Arnold asks, unfamiliar with the animal.

"I've never heard of him," Amy murmurs. They arrive at the aquarium, the students looking outside in excitement. The class frantically jumps off to run inside. Arnold and Amy are the last ones to get off, trailing behind the others.

"Wow..." They look at the environment around them, covered by glass. They were amazed at the sight. Amy looks at all the fish and seaweed. They see a jellyfish swim by. The class moves excitedly, cheering. "Amy, stay close to me, okay?"

"Yes, big brother," Amy rolls her eyes.

"Welcome to the city aquarium. We have a few simple rules to follow: No feeding the fish, no tapping on the glass, no diving in the shark tank, no video cameras, no photography, no sushi chefs," the tour guide sees a sushi chef behind them. He sulks, walking away. "No smoking-"

"So who's Lockjaw?" Amy asks Gerald.

"You kidding me? He's only the scariest sea monster in the ocean deep," he explains.

"If there was a battle between him and a giant squid," Sid punches the air. "Lockjaw would win."

"I bet he could ram a boat with his head and sink it!" Stinky states.

"I heard that he could swallow a kid whole...and spit out the bones," Gerald shivers.

"Lockjaw, huh?" Arnold murmurs. "Cool."

"No guns, no knives, no plastic explosives, and most of all, no skateboards!" He takes a skateboard from one of the students, throwing it into a storage room full of skateboards. Everyone looks at the animals, Sid and Harold checking out the sharks. Arnold and Amy walk up to them, seeing the Hammerhead shark.

"Hey, is that Lockjaw?" Arnold points to it.

"Heh. Yeah, right," Harold retorts.

Helga and Phoebe look at some fish.

"Which one's Lockjaw?" Amy asks them.

"You kidding? Lockjaw could suck these guys up like vermin."

"Hey, guys!" They look to see Gerald. "We're gonna go see Lockjaw. Come on!" They smile a little, following after them. They end up outside, looking at a site. Arnold and Amy manage to catch up to them, looking to see nothing. Arnold looks in boredom, Brainy pushing a button.

"And now, presenting the terror of the deep, the ancient reptile whose ancestors date back over 150 million years, the mighty Lockjaw!"

Everyone cheers as Lockjaw emerges from the water. "That's Lockjaw?" Arnold asks in surprise, as the turtle is rather small.

"Big deal," Harold comments.

"He seemed a lot bigger when we were in first grade," Sid says.

"He's not so scary!" Stinky replies.

"What a rip-off!" Harold throws his ice cream, hitting Lockjaw with it. "Yes! I got him, yes!"

"That turtle really bites," Stinky laughs as Lockjaw goes into the water to wash himself off. Arnold and Amy glance at the class as they mistreat Lockjaw. They look upset about how they were treating him, all because he wasn't what they expected. They walk away, walking downstairs to Lockjaw's tank.

"Lockjaw?"

"Hey, Lockjaw?" Lockjaw appears in front of them. "Hey man." Lockjaw presses his hand against the glass. Arnold and Amy look a little surprised before they return the gesture.

The bus drops them off home. Most of the class call out goodbye to them, Harold pressing his body against the window. "I got him, yes!"

Amy sighs, Arnold walking up the stairs.

"Cuse me," they turn around to a Campfire Lassie. "We're selling chocolate turtles to raise money for our trip to Scotland!" She opens the box.

"No thanks," Arnold opens the door, the pack of animals running out the door.

"Hi Grandpa."

"Hey there, shortman and pumpkin. How do you like my new turtleneck?" He shows the collar.

"Uh, it's nice, Grandpa," Arnold says solemnly.

"Now if I could only find my tortoise glasses. Then I'd be really looking snazzy," he places circles over his eyes using his fingers. The twins walk up the stairs. Arnold pulls down the cord to let the stairs fall. They walk up the stairs and close the door. Arnold pulls out the remote, turning on the DVD player. Jazz music starts to play and he presses another button to turn on the lights. He presses the red button, the couch appearing from the wall. Arnold lays down on it as Amy presses a button on her own remote, her bean bag chair appearing from the ground. They lay down, listening to the music. Arnold looks at the ground, the floor patterns turning into Lockjaw. Arnold gives a sad look, looking up at the ceiling. A turtle swims by. He sighs slowly, covering his face with a pillow. There's a knock on their door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, mon kappy tans," Grandma Gertie walks in, holding a tray. "I brought sandwiches."

"We're really not hungry, Grandma," Amy looks up.

"Oh, what's the matter?" She places the tray on the table. "I haven't seen you this down since Von Cluck swept through Belgium back in August 14!" She takes the pillow off Arnold. Sometimes Grandma Gertie could be a little...crazy. She mixed up holidays, she dressed in different outfits, and the food she makes was not always...edible, but she was probably the only one in the boarding house that understood the twins.

"I don't know, Grandma. It's just..." Arnold sits up. "Let us ask you something, Grandma."

"How would you feel if you were living in the ocean and some scientists captured you and put you in a tank?" Amy sits up.

"WHAT?! No sir, they'll never take me! Never!" She stands up.

"Calm down, Grandma. It's a hypothetical question," Arnold assures.

"Oh," she sits back down. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

"I thought I did..." Amy murmurs, joining Arnold and Grandma on the couch.

"See, we went to the aquarium today," Arnold explains.

"Oh, the big house for fish," She moves her glasses down.

"And there's this really old turtle there," Amy continues.

"Old, eh," Grandma comments.

"Yeah, and he's all covered in graffiti, and his water's dirty. The kids throw stuff at him," Arnold finishes.

"And he's old," Grandma elaborates.

"Well, yeah," Amy rubs her neck. "And sad and dirty. And his tank's too small."

"And he's old..."

"Yeah, and he's-"

"Why, this is an outrage!" She interrupts Arnold, standing up.

"Grandma and he's so-"

"Treating a wise creature like he's some sort of common criminal!" She paces around.

"Are we still talking about Lockjaw?" Amy whispers to Arnold.

"I think they just-"

"Come on! There's not a moment to lose!" She declares.

"But-"

"I said come on!" She drags them out of their room. "We got a mission to complete!"

Grandma throws things out of her closet. "Now I know it's in here somewhere."

"Grandma, uh...what are you doing?" Arnold wonders and Amy got the sense from Grandma that this was personal.

"We're taking action! Righting a wrong, grasping its straws! Aha!" She pulls out red sweaters, handing it to them. "Perfect!"

The garage door opens, revealing the Packard. Grandma drives it at high speed, wearing black clothing. "From now on, call me Chief. And you're Agent Nine and Agent Ten," she turns to Arnold and Amy. They glance at each other. She pulls out a bag. "Take this, Nine and Ten. It's our gear." Amy takes the bag and they open it to see...knitting needles and yarn. Amy places it next to her.

"Grandma, you have a driver's license?" Arnold wonders.

Grandma laughs, not answering the question, but it was a pretty good hint that no, she did not. They arrive in front of the aquarium, the three stepping out. "Grandma, we're trespassing," Amy whispers. "This is public property!" She doesn't listen, opening the trunk.

"Well, we're the public, aren't we?" She grabs a grappling hook and face paint, putting it on their cheeks. They start walking and Grandma throws the grappling hook to the wall, even though it wasn't that tall. She starts climbing, the twins going through the entrance. Grandma dusts herself off, following the two. She starts crawling to the ticket booth, looking inside for anyone. "Good. The sentry's not at his post. Now's our chance, come on!" They follow her inside. "You lead, number Nine and Ten. You know where the prisoner's cell is."

The tour guide starts laughing. "Here, have a cookie. Oh, you tossed your cookies." He laughs as the three walk right past him. "Here's a cookie. Oh, you tossed your cookies again."

They make it to the site, Arnold lifting the cage handle from the inside. They walk up to the turtle, bending down to him.

"Oh, oh my goodness! This is worse than I thought!"

"See? We told you," the twins pet the turtle.

"Well, I know one thing that'll cheer him up..."

They give Lockjaw a bath to wash off the graffiti that was drawn on his shell over the years. Arnold looks at Lockjaw, who looks up. "Hey, I think he's starting to trust us."

"Good, then we can get him out of here," Grandma answers.

"But Grandma, isn't that against the law?" Arnold wonders.

"Against the law, the king perhaps, but against the law of common decency? I think not!" She declares. Arnold smiles at her.

"Don't worry, buddy, we're bustin' ya out of this joint," Amy agrees.

"Now you're getting the hang of it, Number Ten!" They try to lift Lockjaw, but are unable to move him.

"Careful, don't get too close to his mouth," Arnold warns. Grandma screams, showing only her sleeve.

"Grandma," the twins say in worry, but she reveals her arm.

"These darn sleeves are too long." They try to lift him again, but are unsuccessful. Arnold accidentally hits the button with his back.

"Lockjaw, rare and Galapagos turtle. Weighs well over 400 pounds."

"Wait here, Grandma and Amy. I've got an idea," Arnold runs off as the radio keeps playing. The two wait patiently until they smile, Arnold showing a skateboard.

They roll Lockjaw through the hall, the tour guide feeding one of the sharks. "What's wrong, big shark? Come on, Jaws! Bite me!" He laughs, accidentally falling into the water. Oh, was he in trouble now. They continue to roll Lockjaw until they put him in the car.

"Punch it, Grandma!" Arnold and Amy exclaim, the car speeding off as the sun starts to set. They roll Lockjaw across the pier.

"Do you think he knows the way to the ocean?" Arnold asks.

"Well, sure! It's instinct," she points to her brain. They roll him into the water. He lifts his head up, turning to them. "Run! Be free! Go! Live a life again!"

Lockjaw seems determined by her words and starts swimming. He touches the water before he leaves. He looks at the pier before swimming out into the distance.

"Hey Grandma?" Amy questions.

"Yes, Number Ten?"

"You're the best!" The twins tell her.

"So are you, Amelia and Arnold." All three of them are proud of what they've done for Lockjaw. "Now come on! All this exercise gives me a hankering for some turtle soup!" This causes the two to sigh.