Awkward

Chapter 3: Underneath it All


"I am beyond tired…"

"How can you be tired? You've barely done anything."

"Yes, I did." Helga whined. "I moved that box, from over there, all the way over here." she finished her statement with an exaggerated yawn, stretching her arms over her head.

"You are so lazy." Arnold said, leaning forward on the crowded couch to hurl a throw pillow at her.

Helga caught the object, and tucked it under her arms and close to her chest. "If I were paying you, you'd be fired by now."

"Why aren't you paying me?' Arnold asked.

"Because you're my friend, and friends don't pay other friends to help them move." Helga said, lifting herself from the couch. Wiping her brow, she bent to pick up another cardboard box, differing only from the other boxes scattering her living area by size and label. "Come on, let's get back to work."

"No, I think I'll sit her and watch you work." Arnold said. To be honest, as close as he was to Helga, he was anything but excited to help her move. To him, there was something weird about handling other people's things. Not just other people's things, but, all of another person's worldly possessions. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was just…strange.

"Come on, you turkey!" Helga said, reaching into her box and hurling a long-sleeved shirt at him.

Arnold peeled the shirt off of his face. "Did you just call me a turkey?"

"Yeah. What about it?" Helga said, throwing another shirt at him. This one was bright purple, her favorite color, and was beaded.

In retaliation, Arnold threw the shirt back at her, but Helga ducked, snatching more shirts from the box labeled "tops" in black marker.

"You don't want to do that…" Arnold warned, smiling and grasping for ammunition from another labeled box. This one read "pants/skirts".

"No way, Arnold. You can't use pants, they have zippers and big buttons!" Helga protested.

"That last shirt was covered in beads!"

"Fine, bring it on." Helga said, readying her hands.

"Consider it done."

A split second later, the two were hurling various articles of clothing at one another. Pants, shirts, and socks flew across the room, with no aim or care. Their once practiced pitches were soon replaced with careless tosses, mimicking children splashing each other half-heartedly. It wasn't until Arnold reached into an unmarked box, with the intention of hurling a handful of its contents at Helga.

"Arnold, no!"

"What? What's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. There's nothing in that box, that's all." Helga said, defensively.

"Really?" Arnold asked, devilishly.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure there aren't any secrets in this box…" he asked, slowly reaching for it again.

"No! I mean, no. There aren't any secrets in there, I just…those are, my grandmother's antique…handkerchiefs. Very delicate." she lied.

"I don't think so…I think they're-"

"Arnold, I'm serious, they're-"

Arnold's eyes widened when he did tear the box open. There, in a medium sized box sat Helga's entire collection of…underwear. Everything from the few and far between pairs of "granny panties" that were kept for no real reason, to the uncomfortable ruffled-covered numbers that were a gift from an eccentric aunt. Looking back at her, she held a hand up to cover her face. Since Helga was never one to blush, he figured she was just plain embarrassed. But then again, who wouldn't be? Instead of acting as though nothing happened, Arnold continued their game.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked, pulling out a pair.

"Arnold, stop it." Helga said, fighting back laughter.

"Pink zebra stripes? Oh, that's adorable…"

"I mean it-"

"Hey look, these ones have little sequins on them. " he said, waving around a bright blue pair, making them sparkle in the light that filtered in from her tiny window that was open. "They're like little Broadway undies."

"Arnold if you don't cut it out right-"

"And speaking of cut outs, look at what I found…" he began, lifting out Helga's least favorite and most humiliating pair. They could hardly be called a "pair" of anything, really.

"Arnold-"

"And it doesn't end there, everybody," he announced to no one in particular. "There's a little message on her for us."

"That's not fun-"

"And it's written in rhinestones!" he laughed, holding them over her head, and effectively out of her reach. "It says…Maid of Honor?"

Helga rolled her eyes, and gave up trying to get the thong underwear from him. Either way, he looked at her quizzically, silently waiting for an explanation. "When Olga got married, she was really upset, because her dress was made out of silk-chiffon, and you could see her underwear when she was walking down the aisle. She hates thongs, but there was no other way around it, so she had to wear one.

"Anyway, she freaked and turned into Bridezilla the night before the wedding, and said that if she had to walk down the aisle with dental floss up her bum, then all the bridesmaids had to be awkward and uncomfortable. So she bought us all personalized, rhinestoned thongs." Helga explained.

"Wow. What a lovely story." Arnold said, arms crossed, still clutching the underwear.

"Okay, I told you my story, now hand them over.

"no, I don't think I will."

In an instant, Helga leapt across the room at Arnold, grabbing him around his long torso and wrestling him to the ground. The fight ensued for a few minutes, one gaining the lead over the other, only to lose it again. When Helga held fast to one end of the thong, Arnold suddenly yanked it back, and while he snatched it from Helga, it also flew out of his grasp.

And directly out of the open window.

When the two realized what happened, the fumbled to the window, only to look out onto the streets and see the tiny underwear, twinkling up at them from the middle of the sidewalk.

"You threw my thongs out of the window." Helga said, in shock.

"If I go down there and get it, can I keep them?" Arnold asked.

Helga pushed herself from the windowsill and began attacking Arnold with her fists.

"Get out, get out!" she screamed, pushing him toward the door.

Once ther, Arnold turned back to her, smiling. "So, when should I come back over?"

Helga blanched. "Never! Why on earth would I have you back over her after you threw my underwear out of a window?"

"Because, we still haven't gone through that box full of bras in your room. See you tomorrow."

Before he could so much as laugh at his own joke, Helga slammed the door loudly, turning away from it and leaning her back against it's frame.

"Freak."


That was one of my funnier ones. I like it a lot.

Inspired by my hatred for thongs. As my favorite author Louise Rennison says "They just go up your bum, as far as I know." Also, I work in retail, and I always get assigned the underwear table. Have you ever tried to fold a thong? Ever tried folding 80 of them? When the string is all sideways and the tag sticks out and they get all wrinkly and wonky around the top part? Yeah. That's why I hate thongs.

Oh, and for Arnolds Love and the amazing finn; this isn't it either. I told you, you'll know it when you read it. Bye!

-PointyObjects