There are a few things that Gerald can admit defeat to, like sports (what doesn't kill you makes you stronger) or perhaps a school fair event (he takes his losses as learning experiences).
But the one thing that he will stand proudly for and defend against is dancing. And none of that ballet-tap dance stuff either. He can respect them as art forms, but it's really not his cup of tea.
But seriously, dancing is his thing. He'd been breaking and popping and locking since as long as he could remember. He'd started it after watching Jamie-O goof around one afternoon with his friends.
He didn't necessarily consider himself the best dancer of all time; if anything, he was a distant second, or an appropriate third (maybe this is what Arnold meant when he called him 'conceited'). In any case, dancing was something he tended to take seriously (man, he sounded like a girl…Phoebe would slap him upside the if he ever said something like that out loud).
What he didn't know was that Helga just so happened to Take It Seriously too.
It was Saturday night, and as far as Gerald knew, he was going to spend it the same way he had since freshman year-with Phoebe. He climbed the steps of her porch to her door and rang the bell, expecting the petite Asian girl to open the door and appear before him.
Imagine his surprise when the door swung open and he found himself staring at, not his loving, adorable girlfriend, but her opinionated, coo-coo-bananas for Arnold best friend instead.
"Can I…help you?" she asked casually.
"Uh," he started, "What are you doing here?"
Helga shrugged and leaned against the door frame. "Hanging out with Phoebe, doi."
"You can't hang out with her tonight; Saturday is my night, remember? We worked this out ages ago."
The blonde girl didn't really appear to be paying him much attention. As a matter of fact, she released a huge yawn and then stepped away from the door, leaving it wide open. Unsure of her intentions, Gerald stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind him, and followed Helga up the stairs.
At this point, he was feeling more than a little uncertain. Sure, he's been in Phoebe's house before (he'd even been to her room) but he didn't know what to expect. Helga was overstepping the clearly laid out and openly acknowledged boundaries.
And she knew it, too.
"The boyfriend is here, Pheebs." Helga announced, plopping down on the bed. Gerald peered around the room effeminate room in search of the small Asian girl.
"Oh no!" he heard her cry. Phoebe then exited her private adjourning bathroom with her hand wrapped all up in her hair as if to pin it up. "I completely forgot., Gerald!"
He raised an eyebrow. "You forgot that we were hanging out tonight, like we have been every Saturday night for the past two years?"
To her credit, Phoebe looked guiltily at the floor. "I meant, I forgot to tell you about the change in plans. See, tonight is Helga's birthday and-I'm so sorry!"
Gerald peered over at the girl in question who only shrugged lazily in response.
He was suddenly reminded of the time, only a week prior, when he'd been pulled into the closet at school, and she'd confessed many, many things to him, all of which included a few details about her family life. It was no secret, how dysfunctional her family was, but he now understood the near depth of said dysfunctional home life.
He couldn't even imagine what birthdays were like for her, with that family.
Probably just a pat on the back, congrats you made it another year-No, it's probably something more along the lines an earful about how she's managed to go another year without being like her sister, Gerald thought bitterly.
"Oh, uh. Happy birthday, Pataki." He said uneasily.
Helga grinned knowingly. "Thanks, pop daddy. Hey, here's an idea; since I feel a bit crummy for intruding on your most optimal macking time with my fair bestie, why don't you come with us tonight?"
Gerald eyed her silently before turning to his blushing (MAN, she is just too cute) girlfriend, and then said: "Sure. Why not?"
"Really Gerald? Are you certain?" Phoebe asked optimistically.
He waved her doubts off. "Yeah. I mean, it's her birthday. What better way to spend it than to-to-" He was suddenly aware of Phoebe's outfit. Dark, shimmering, navy blue tank-dress with shiny-slick black three inch pumps, that really added extra length to her slim, creamy legs (which he had trouble looking away from), "-um, what are you guys doing tonight, anyway?"
Helga's grin turned mischievous and wolfish. "We're going clubbing."
Gerald's jaw dropped in surprise. "Seriously?"
"Uh-duh, Geraldo. What, did you think we were getting all dolled up to just sit around all night watching 'Yo, Ernest!' reruns? Criminy, give me a break."
"But-wait, Hillwood doesn't have any clubs."
"That's why we're going into the city. Man, Gerald, you are a little slow on the uptake." Helga said. Amusement was dripping from her words though the seventeen year old boy was far from sharing her mirth.
"I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, Pataki, but there is still the issue of, oh, I don't know, being underage?"
"Puh-that's nothing. Pheebs and I are regulars, where we're going, and if that isn't enough, I can always just whip out my handy-dandy fake ID."
Gerald looked back at Phoebe, who had since given up on saving her up-do hairstyle and had decided to shake her hair out so that it hung messy but tastefully, down to her chin. "Fake ID?"
Phoebe reached inside her matching clutch bag and pulled out a square piece of plastic. Smiling innocently, she said, "I have one as well."
Gerald groaned. "She is such a bad influence on you!"
Helga snorted. "As if. The ID's were Phoebe's idea. There were apart of her 'master plan', once upon a time ago."
"Um, all we did was vote, Helga…"
"Whatever." Helga got off the bed and stretched her arms skyward. "We really need to hit the road if we want to get down there in enough time to secure a table for the night." she paused, looking at Gerald. "But, um…I guess not all of us are ready to go 'out' just yet."
Phoebe blinked a few times, adjusting her contacts without messing up her make up. "What do you mean, Helga?"
The blonde stepped over to her tiny friend and slung an arm around her shoulders. "You see Pheebs, although you and I look freakin' fantabulously, ama-za-zingly, ridiculously smokin', homeboy over here-" She gestured to Gerald. "-looks like some tired middle-aged guy going out to eat at Applebees. To pick up chicks."
Gerald felt that he had been insulted, but really, how was he supposed to respond when he wasn't even sure what it was about her statement that was offensive. If anything, her statement was rather silly.
"I want you to know that even though I can, and do, make everything look awesome, I have to agree with you. My clothes are not currently club-tastic."
Helga snorted. "Yeah, whatever buddy boy. We're making a pit-stop."
By 'pit-stop', Helga really meant they were going to walk to his house so that he could get properly dressed for the evening. Of course, cine he didn't know what kind of club it was, Helga and Phoebe decided on what he'd wear. Currently, they had him in a white button down oxford shirt with a black blazer and matching black slacks. His skinny hung loosely around his throat, barely covering the few unbuttoned buttons at the top, while on his head was a white kango apple hat.
"Hm…I like it so far, but it's still not right…" Phoebe said.
"Okay," Helga clapped, "how about this." She pulled a pair of black jeans from the wrack in his closet and tossed them on the bed. "Change into these and put on your nicest black sneakers. Come downstairs when you're done."
She slammed the door before he could even get a word out.
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When he finally did go downstairs, ten minutes later, he found the two girls in his living room, being chatted up by his younger sister, Timberly.
"You sure do look pretty, Helga." Timberly chattered. "I don't know why Gerald always says you're ugly. You are so not ugly."
Helga raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth to respond, but Gerald quickly interjected.
"I never said she was ugly, Tim. I said she had an ugly attitude."
"What's the differ-OHMYGOD YOU ACTUALLY LOOK KIND OF AWESOME?" his sister exclaimed. Again, another instance of not knowing whether to be insulted or not.
Helga looked up at him coming down the stairs and smirked, mentally patting herself on the back. Out of the many things she knows a lot of in this world, clothes and fashion would, surprisingly, make her top five. Along with baseball, fighting, writing, and of course, Arnold.
Helga inwardly winced for thinking about him, on tonight of all nights. Wasn't she trying to forget him? Yeah, yeah, that's right. Forget all about stupid ol' football head…
But... His eyes are just so green-
Helga shook her head. Focus, ol' girl, FOCUS!
Phoebe's happy voice broke through her thoughts: "Oh Gerald, you look wonderful!"
Helga smirked. "Yeah. You clean up nice, kid." she admitted.
He noticed then, for some reason, what she was wearing.
A white corset dress with black ribbon lining the bust, as well as her waist with various strips designed vertically, that flared out with layered pleated ruffles. It ended, maybe, three inches above her knees, which were covered by her black cobweb hose. He couldn't help the mild surprise when he saw black and white plaid flats on her feet instead of heels.
"No heels?" he asked.
Helga shrugged indifferently. "I'm tall enough as it is. No need to tower over everyone else while I'm at it." she looked at the bracelet watch on her wrist. "Damn, we've lost enough time already. Rhonda and Curly are waiting."
"Wait-Rhondurly is going to be there?" Gerald asked, bewildered.
"Not just going, dude-they're already there. I've gotten like, six texts from Princess in the last twenty minutes. We need to vamoose, pronto!"
Phoebe slipped her high waist grey peacoat on while Helga pulled on a red broad shoulder leather jacket, then waited by the door for Gerald as he fixed his blazer.
"So how are we getting there?" he opened the door for them, exiting last so he could lock the door behind him.
"There's really only one way we can get there." Phoebe chirped up, clearly amused by the situation. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, grinning when he saw her cheeks turn a soft pink color.
"Oh yeah? And what's that?"
Helga smirked and dangled and set of shiny keys in front of him. "In style, obviously."
The average trip downtown, on a Saturday night, takes about forty-five minutes from Hillwood, and hour maybe if there was traffic.
Helga Pataki, Gerald concluded, was not average.
She'd swiped the keys to her old man's white 2011 Cadillac Escalade Hybrid earlier that evening when he was busy watching television, and had gotten them downtown in just barely thirty minutes.
Helga rolled to a halt in front of a large brown building with people lined up outside. The flashing neon sign above the entrance read .INFINITY. Gerald wanted to be excited for the night, but really, all he wanted at that moment was a bathroom. Or a barf bag.
"Uh, sister girl, how long have you had your license?" Gerald asked as he helped Phoebe out of the large vehicle. Helga smiled innocently as she handed her keys to, whom Gerald was assuming was the valet.
"What license?"
It was at that very moment that Gerald decided Phoebe was never allowed in a car with Helga, ever again. Even if she was the one driving. Nope. Not happening. Sorry.
The trio walked up to the front, ignoring everyone in the line who complained.
"Hey Hector," Helga called to the bouncer. "Phoebe and I brought a guest tonight."
The man, Hector, nodded and then detached the velvet limitation rope so that they could enter. Helga stepped inside, after slipping a folded bill into his hand.
"Okay," Gerald muttered, "that was kind of weird."
Phoebe smiled warmly and grabbed hold of his hand, lacing their fingers. "No, not really, but you'll get over it."
They trekked down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. Gerald could feel the bass of club music booming from somewhere, surrounding them. Finally, they came to door, and paused.
"You guys ready?" Helga asked.
"Uh-" Gerald managed before she cut him off.
"Okay then, prepare yourselves!"
"Preparing!" Phoebe giggled.
Helga pushed the door open.
Immediately, energetic dance music attacked his ears, he couldn't help but to walk in tune with the song that was playing, whatever it was. Colorful lights flashed and swept over the crown. It was so distracting that Gerald tightened his grip on Phoebe's hand, careful as to not get lost in the sea of people. He couldn't help wondering just where the hell this chick was leading them.
They finally came to an area with very few, small tables, and even few seats. He watched as Helga flounced over to a table near the wall that was being occupied by two people. It took him nearly a minute to realize he was looking at Curly and Rhonda.
Curly looked up and smiled at the arrival of his friends. "Took you guys long enough."
"Can it, stooge. We would've been here sooner if Geraldo hadn't come along." Helga answered, taking a seat next to Rhonda. She looked down at the girl's red leather mini skirt and said: "That's a great skirt, Princess. Could've told me you were borrowing it."
Rhonda rolled her eyes and snapped open her compact to check her makeup. "Oh whatever, Helga. It's not like you ever even wear it, anyway."
"Well, I was thinking about wearing it tonight. I went to pull it down and-surprise, surprise!-it wasn't in my closet."
The dark haired girl shrugged, unconcerned, and put away the small device. Turning her attention to the other female of the group. "Phoebe, you look fabulous. That dress is tre-chic. Love the shoes, too."
Phoebe blushed at the compliment and shrugged off her coat. "Thank you, Rhonda."
"So," Gerald started, bumping fists with Curly. "Do you guys come here often?"
"I've been here a few times as a patron, but mostly I just DJ." Curly answered, and took a sip of his…whatever it was he was drinking.
"You're a DJ?" Gerald was impressed.
Curly shrugged and nudged his rectangular glasses up his nose. "Only part time. Gotta score the dough to support my cause."
Helga rolled her eyes. "And what cause is that?"
Curly grinned. "Whatever happens to float my boat that week."
They all laughed.
"Well, I don't know about you chumps, but it's my birthday and I really don't plan to spend it sitting around making small talk." Helga got up, taking her jacket off and tossing it on the back of her chair. Making her way to the dance floor she asked, "Whose with me?"
"I can dig it." Curly answered. He stood up, leaning over to peck Rhonda on the cheek, and then followed his blonde friend away from the group; both teens disappeared into the mass of gyrating bodies.
Gerald plopped down onto Curly's empty seat and heaved a sigh. He really couldn't believe he was here. Sure, he's a hip dude and can totally get into the club scene, but the circumstances leading up to the current situation were just too extraordinary to be natural.
Rhonda's voice snapped him back to the present moment." What's the matter with you?"
"Eh, I'm just taking everything in." He replied causally.
Rhonda handed him her glass. "Drink this; it'll ease your shock."
He picked it up and brought it closer, then sniffed it and made a face. "Vodka? How did you even get this, you're like seventeen."
"I'll have you know that I'm basically eighteen-" he gave her a look, "-in five months, thank you very much. Plus, I'm a Wellington-Lloyd." she smiled smugly. "There's really nothing I can't get." she paused, looking thoughtful. "I guess it also helps that my mother owns the club."
Well that's that, Gerald thought. He looked over at his girlfriend, holding up the glass. "Would you mind?"
"As long as you don't get lucid, a few drinks here and there aren't so bad." she said.
At her answer, Gerald was seriously considering the prospect of being Punk'd when he decided to just go with it. He threw his head back and knocked the drink down. The burning in his throat was enough to assure him that yes, this was really happening and yes, he was becoming okay with it.
About fifty songs and a few more drinks later found Gerald up on one of the various scaffoldings, dancing with Phoebe. The music was raw and loud and he could almost feel the notes coursing through his veins.
Or maybe that was just the liquor.
Either way, he felt freaking awesomerific.
Phoebe had had a few drinks of her own and had loosened up considerably, and he had to say, he really liked it when she loosened up. She'd taken off her coat before deciding to dance some hours ago, and had only just decided upon losing the heels as well. She rocked against her boyfriend in harmony with the lively song, though she did feel a bit bad for not spending more time with Helga (even though, hard as she tried not to, she'd lost track of her best friend a while ago). But she knew that when Helga wanted to be found again, the tall girl would make an appearance.
The song was discreetly shifting into a new tune with a similar sound, but the Asian girl didn't think she'd be able to stand it. She decided to sit out for a while.
"I'm going to go back to he table for a bit," she announced to Gerald. "I think maybe Rhonda is there again."
"Want me to go with?" he asked. She shook her head.
"You can hang out here still. If you want me, you'll know where I am."
Gerald grinned wolfishly and drew Phoebe to him. "But I always want you, baby."
Phoebe flushed with light embarrassment and weakly tried to pull away from him. "Gerald! Behave!"
"Do I have to?" he mock whined.
Phoebe giggled, and leaned up to kiss his lips before kneeling down and climbing off the lift.
Gerald continued dancing.
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"You're pretty good!" someone shouted at him. He spun around and stomped his foot on beat, only to spot Helga watching him from another scaffolding.
"Thanks," he called back. "Gotta know how to feel the music."
Helga grinned smugly. "You're good," she repeated. "for an amateur."
Gerald arched an eyebrow. "Amateur? 'Fraid not, lady. What do you know?"
"I know," she replied, "that I love this song."
She hopped off the platform and divided her way into the crowd.
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Arms up, turn and pose. Legs out. Spin, step back. Kick and reach.
Helga couldn't remember the last time she had felt so free. The music was loud in her head, in her mind, processing every sound. It was almost as though her body moved on its own.
She could even feel her heart pounding on rhythm with the song in her chest.
Gerald had to admit: the girl was a decent dancer. He was mildly impressed.
Helga twirled and pointed up at him, backing up deeper into the dancing crowd.
He knew a challenge when he saw one. The girl was calling him out, and, well, Gerald never was one to walk away from a good challenge.
Hopping off his own platform, Gerald grooved his way deeper into the crowd after her, maneuvering around various dancers, until Helga was right in front of him. He took a breath.
Dancing like there's no one else in the room
Try that dance for two
'Cuz after dark it's like she's someone else
Swing back, arms down. Jump into spin. Glide right, turn and look.
Gerald would play her game, and he'd win it, too.
FM. Hey girl (Mo-mo-mohombi)
It's not a question if you're sexy
The only question is
Watchu know about these's stereotypes?
FM, come on
Helga moved. She threw her hands up, swishing her hips from side to side. Clapping in the air, she took a step forward, flipping her hair to the front and then whipping it back. She turned, throwing her arms behind her, swaying all around to the beat.
So innocent you can tell by the clothes
College girl with a four point oh
Good girl by day
Damn who would've known?
Gerald smirked. Alright, the girl was good, he's give her that.
Stepping to the side, he pushed his arm out and brought the other to his chest, and pivoted, throwing his body forward.
Legs out, arms pop one two three four, shoulders lock, kneel slide forward, jump back up, chest out.
But when the lights go, lights go down
And she's out of the floor
The freak comes out and she loses contro-o-ol
The way she move got me beggin' for more
Helga jumped up, thrusting her body and whipping her hair around, then brought her knee up. Turn and stick it, arms down, arm up pop one lock two pop three lock four out, pivot on heel, glide one two three four, spin.
She's dancing like there's no one else in the room
Try that dance for two
'Cuz after dark she's someone else
And they were both dancing, rocking and moving against the music.
She owns the night
She owns the night
She owns the night
She owns the night
She owns the night
I'm talking to you
And you
So caught up in the magic of their movements and the pull of the song, they both failed to notice how the crowd had parted for them, giving them the space they needed to do their thing as enraptured onlookers watched in awe.
She owns the night
She owns the night
She owns the night
She owns the night
She owns the night
I'm talking to you
And you
Gerald couldn't believe it. Helga Pataki was a good dancer. A great one. Almost on par with himself (there goes that conceit again). He never would have guess that such a brash, lanky girl would be able to move so gracefully, because get real, when you think of Helga Pataki, the term 'graceful' does not come to mind.
Yeah yeah yeah
Shawty like it when the bass vibrate the speakers
Her body's hypnotic
Fella's all wanna meet her
Can't leave without saying goodbye to your angel face
Wait
Fly me home under your wings baby
Wings baby
Wings bay-bay
Helga already knew, from conversations with Phoebe (she wouldn't really call them conversations; more like Phoebe wouldn't shut up about how wonderful Gerald was as a boyfriend) about Gerald's love for dance, that he was passionate.
Just like she was.
So, she started this game of 'anything you can do, I can do better' to see for herself.
And she had really underestimated him.
Phoebe and Rhonda were sitting at the table, talking about whatever came to mind, when Curly came up to them.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Hey," he said. "I know it's Saturday night-or, well, it was--and that it's Helga's birthday-well, not anymore I guess-but it's currentl-y-" he pulled his hand out of his pants pocket and looked at his watch, "-three thirty-nine AM, and I need to be home, like, two hours ago."
Phoebe shot up off her seat. "FOUR AM? It's FOUR AM? Oh my god, I was supposed to be him by one, at the latest!"
"Eh, well, not that I have a curfew or anything but I was kind of getting bored." Rhonda nonchalantly offered up.
Curly and Phoebe ignored her.
"Technically Phoebe, it's only three thirty-ni-er, three forty." Curly stated.
"What does it matter? It'll be like four thirty by the time we get back to town, and that's only if we leave now."
"The roads are probably pretty bare, and I'm sure that with Helga's 'driving' , you'll be back before the clock strikes four." he airily responded.
He took notice of Phoebe frantically searching for her belongs, totally ignoring him.
"Speaking of Helga, where is that hellion? And Gerald too." Rhonda asked aloud.
"Well, I left Helga on the dance floor hours ago. The girl is seriously the energizer bunny personified. I don't think she's left the grid since we first started." Curly answered.
"Uhhhh, Gerald was up on the lift thingy when I left him." Phoebe squinted her eyes to focus better. "But I don't see him there now."
"Well there's no point in texting Helga-her clutch is right here." Rhonda held up the small hand bag. "What about Gerald?"
"He gave me his phone because it kept falling out of his pocket while we were dancing." Phoebe said.
"Ugh, see this is why I sometimes hate bringing her anywhere, even on her birthday. She always goes off and does her own thing, regardless of the situation." Rhonda complained. She stood as well, holding her sweater and purse to her with one arm and gripping Helga's stuff with her free hand. "I suppose I should forgive her, being that it's her birthday and all, but really." She led the other two to one of the platforms, careful not to accidentally bump into any surrounding clubbers.
Rhonda couldn't understand it-it was four freaking AM! Why were there so many people still around, and why the hell weren't they tired yet!
"Here, allow me." Curly said. He pulled himself up over the ledge, then kneeled down to help Rhonda climb up. Once they were standing, the two began searching the floor for their MIA friends.
There was a small number of people who weren't really dancing, near the back corner of the grid, that caught Curly's eye. He blinked a few times, raised his glasses to rub his eyes, then went back to staring in disbelief.
In the center, surrounded by tons of people, were Gerald and Helga, having, what unbelievably seemed to be, a dance off. It was obvious to him that they were oblivious to the attention they were getting. He wouldn't even put it past either of them to think that it was still only around one AM (which was when he had Left Helga to do his own thing).
He nudged Rhonda, who, by some strange chance, still had yet to locate the two (which he honestly didn't see how since they were like, definitely right in front of her face. She probably wasn't really searching), to get her attention.
"What?" she demanded.
"I found them."
"Really?" she asked. "Where are they?"
He pointed across the room. "Yeah, definitely right in front of you."
The raven haired beauty followed the direction of his finger.
"OHMYGOD, THEY'RE DANCING."
Curly nodded. "People will do that at clubs, Rhonda."
She swatted him in the arm. "Oh my God, I Haven't seen Helga dance in like, forever. I almost forgot how good she was." She paused. "Gerald's not too bad either."
"Well?" Phoebe asked from below. "Do you see them?"
Rhonda leaned over the railing and peered down at the petite girl, grinning from ear to ear. "I see them," she said, "and I see a whole lot more."
Phoebe didn't know what to make of that.
Curly didn't like the look on his girlfriends beautiful face. It was devious and daring. He could practically see the gears winding inside her head, planning.
Though what, he had not a clue.
They were in the car, and the road home. Silence filled the vehicle and nothing but the faint sounds of the night could be heard.
Phoebe yawned from the backseat. She was tied, worn down from the night out (as well as scolding her best friend for pulling a disappearing act. Said best friend only laughed and called her a "cute little sack of crazy", of which Phoebe responded to with even more scolding) and all she could really think about was climbing in her bed and falling fast asleep. She was already well on her way there, stretched out in the back seta, using Gerald as her pillow (he offered himself up as such and she wasn't one much for denying him). The flat winding roads rocked her gently and softly while the dull roar of the engine lulled her, numbing her awareness to everything except the added warmth of Gerald's arm around her midsection.
"You guys okay back there?" Helga asked from the driver's seat.
Phoebe yawned, causing both Gerald and Helga to chuckle.
"Pretty good answer." Gerald sighed.
"You know, you surprised me tonight, Geraldo."
He arched a brow curiously. "That impressed by my mad dance moves huh? Understandable, Pataki, I've got skills."
Even in the darkness of the car, he could picture her rolling her eyes.
"So not what I was talking about, but it's good to see you've got a justified ego."
He shrugged. "I'm allowed to have an awesomely awesome ego when I've got the fuel to feed it."
Helga scoffed. "You are a good dancer, Johansson, but you will never be able to touch this."
"Um, I'm pretty sure I went above and beyond your level, my friend. I definitely won."
"If you want to call falling short 'above and beyond', then yeah, you totally did."
Gerald stiffened. "I have never and will never fall short when it comes to dancing. It simply can't happen."
Helga met his eyes in the rear view mirror. "Wow, you're not full of yourself at all."
"I'm not full of myself. I'm full of confidence. I have every right to be!" he said.
"Now you're just getting ahead of yourself, buddy boy." Helga mused.
"Oh what do you know?"
She smirked. "I know I won tonight."
"Oh yeah, says who?"
"Says the birthday rule. My birthday, therefore I win. The end."
"Helga, that is a bunch of baloney!"
"Whatever, it's my birthday; I win by default. When it's your birthday, you can win by default. Them's the breaks!"
"What about in between birthdays?"
"That's an easy one; I'll win by pwning you win my natural skill and grace, Elementary, my dear Watson."
Gerald bristled. "As if you could ev-"
"As much as I love you guys, if you don't shut up I'll seriously kung-fu the both of you out of the car, drive off, and leave you there." Phoebe announced irritably.
.
.
.
.
.
"Sheesh, someone's a cranky little ninja-fu master when she doesn't have a nap, isn't she?"
"Don't make me pwn you, Helga, because I will do it. Even on your birthday."
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"Whatever," Gerald mumbled softly. "I still won-OW, PHOEBE. Why is it always the elbow? And why do you always go for my 'boys'-OW! Damn it, Phoebe!"
Helga snickered. "HA. You just got uber-pwned-OW, WHAT THE CRAP PHEEBS, I'M DRIVING."
Phoebe yawned and smiled to herself. "Consider it a birthday smack."
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN "HEY ARNOLD!" or the song "She owns the night" by Far East Movement
LAS says:
Well, this chapter was rather long, don't you think? I do. It took me three weeks to write up, and then an addition two days to type out. That is 10 pages of a 5 subject notebook (front and back of each page, so really, like 20 pages I guess) and 12 pages of a word document. I worked hard on this. You guys should love me. LOVE ME NOW. Lol just kidding.
I know the characters seem kind of, er, off, but that's how I picture them in the future. I mean, they'd have to have matured over time right?
Mostly, I just like making helga say weird, but witty, random things, a Cool Calm Guy Curly, and Hyperactive Rhonda. It's fun to write up. No seriously.
But yeah, that's really all I have to say. OH YEAH! I really liked Helga and Phoebe's outfits, and if you want a visual to go with the description, I'll be posting the links to the pictures in my profile soon enough. Just stay up on it =]
Okay, that's it for now. Off to work on the next chapter I go! Please review Heart
Toodles~