Oh Eugene...I own neither you nor the cast of Hey Arnold! In other words, I am not responsible for any misfortune that befalls you. Sorry! X(
Eugene
"Question, Eugene—how many times already have you been flung into Old Man Donald's backyard this week?"
Milo wasn't trying to sound snarky. He simply threw out that inquiry in genuine curiosity. Unlike Arnold, the football-headed boy's "younger brother" had never spent considerable time with any of the people from Mr. Simmons' fourth grade class, much less spoken with them conversationally.
Arnold, however, though he properly interpreted the younger boy's intention, was apprehensive of the possibility that Eugene might actually take the query the wrong way.
"Milo…," warned the football head tersely.
Eugene, however, being the oblivious optimist he was, took no note of Arnold's stern countenance as he addressed Milo with a smile.
"Oh, no need to worry. All I have are a few bite marks and tears," Eugene stated dismissively with his usual perkiness.
This current conversation was taking place right outside of Mrs. Vitello's flower shop as a befuddled Milo pushed the wheelchair of Eugene Horowitz, who, at the moment, was almost practically mummified by the bandages wrapped around him.
Save for his head at least…
Arnold, of course, was accompanying the two oddballs in the extremely likely event Eugene's bad luck streak might send Milo into the crossfire.
The brown-skinned seven-year old, though grateful at Eugene's inadvertent interference of the formerly upcoming "Arnold" lecture, raised an eyebrow skeptically at the redhead's poorly-supported assurance.
"You forgot to include your broken limbs—all four of them actually."
'Man, that Bingo dog is ruthless!' thought Milo in utter bewilderment.
No, seriously, the fact that Eugene was still alive, much less breathing, was nothing short of an absolute miracle.
Arnold began rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.
Man, no matter how many times he observed Eugene's daily mishaps, Arnold could never stop feeling sympathy for his ill-fated classmate.
'Besides, the way this whole day turned out is kind of my fault.'
"Sorry you guys. This day didn't work as planned."
At hearing these apologetic words, Milo and Eugene both halted in their tracks (no pun intended in Eugene's case) to gaze at their oddly shaped headed companion in total shock.
As quickly as the shock came, though, it faded just as soon, only to be replaced by two different sets of smiles:
Eugene and, of course, his broad grin…
Milo and his sly smirk…
Speaking of which, the latter, in a joking tone,
"Really..? Well, if getting stuck in free ice cream for four hours, having to trek past the mud pits to rescue Eugene, and then getting to have a bird's-eye view of Hillwood at sunset from the top of a temporarily inaccessible building full of pigeons is what you call a 'bad day,' Arnold, then I really can't wait to see what a good day looks like!"
Like Milo, the school-proclaimed jinx wasn't fazed by the setbacks of today either.
"He's right, Arnold. In fact, I don't think any of us could have imagined this day turning out as well as it did."
Wait…were they being serious?
Arnold simply couldn't believe his ears!
"So the two of you aren't upset about—"
The dark-toned young man waved a hand nonchalantly, signaling to suggest a lighthearted view of today's events.
"Accidents happen, Arnold—just like stubbing your toe…even though Eugene tends to break more than just his toe. No offense."
Eugene,
"None taken."
'Sides, how could you honestly expect yourself to predict that the baseball machine at the amusement park would go psycho? What? Are you—"
Right then, Milo's voice shifted to a funky tone reminiscent of that of a gypsy woman. He also scrunched up his face to emulate the wrinkly face of an elderly woman.
"The fortuneteller—do you see dhe future? Do you see dhe fates of others' love lives? Can you see what our grandmutha' may cook tonight?"
Though blushing once more due to his shy streak, Arnold chuckled a bit at the younger child's impersonation.
In fact, Eugene, too, was chuckling a bit at Milo's antics.
As soon as the laughter died down, trio resumed with their trek to Eugene's home.
"Besides, Arnold, the doctor's already given me treatment and says I should be alright in three weeks. Trust me—nothing to worry our heads over."
Milo in a supportive tone,
"Yeah, that's the spirit, Eugene."
Inside the mind of the youngest of the trio, however, was a story of whole another color.
'Wow, and I thought my big bro was an optimist to a fault.'
Seriously, Milo swore Fate had some delusional vendetta against the red-headed jinx. The poor guy couldn't walk even two inches without some calamity soaring in his direction.
Speaking of jinxes…
"By the way, it's awfully nice what you're doing, Milo—worrying for me like that. Not to mention that you were willing to guide me back to my house," Eugene mentioned in wholeheartedly with a complimenting beam.
Arnold, proud of Milo's generous deed, wore a similar grin that easily reflected that of Eugene.
Blushing modestly, Milo, this time, was the one who rubbed one hand sheepishly against the back of his head, his expression complementing the gesture.
"Well, somebody needed to stick around in case you had shock or something from that baseball fiasco. Mom says it's never a good idea to leave shock victims by themselves."
"Gosh, I'm kinda surprised you and Arnold aren't relat—"
Just then Eugene's words were severed by a severe shout from the smaller boy.
"DUDES, HEADS—!"
By instinct, the redhead swiveled his head and his eyes to the front and shut his eyes tightly, anticipating the inevitable collision course.
BONK!
It never came—well at least not in Eugene's case.
"Umm," the perplexed redhead stated slowly, after realizing no pain had come as expected, "what just happened?"
No answer…
"…Milo? Arnold?"
Arnold, "Um…"
Odd…"Um" wasn't a typical Arnold response.
"What is it?"
Milo, "Uh…"
And "Uh" wasn't a typical Milo response…especially with the slack jaw and wide set eyes.
Apparently the seven-year old was too distracted by something behind him, Eugene, and Arnold to pay much attention to Eugene.
Arnold, on the other hand, was just cognizant enough of the redhead to point a finger in the direction in which he and Milo were staring.
Following his classmate's finger, Eugene shifted eyes to the proper direction.
His eyes nearly bugged out!
Right on the sidewalk was a comatose Wolfgang, a delirious expression plastered all over his gangly face.
Surrounding the fallen fifth-grader were his posse of dim-witted cronies. They were mumbling and complaining over the best course of action for ailing their indisposed leader.
Those thugs were probably sneaking up on the trio—probably in an attempt for unfinished business from "Trashcan Day"—before the incoming baseball interfered.
Realizing an opportunity for escape, the three boys dashed away from the scene (well, Milo and Arnold dashed— Eugene had to hang on tightly to his wheelchair as the second-grader charged it down the sidewalk at a remarkable speed).
Who knew seven-year olds could dash so quickly?
At mad dash, Arnold, Milo, and Eugene were at the speed of light and only began to decelerate and then eventually pause for a breather when they were in the middle of the park. (Their current location along a shortcut to the boardinghouse, from which reaching the Horowitz abode would be child's play).
"You know what, guys?" queried Eugene between his heavy huffing and puffing. "I think my days as a jinx may finally be over!"
Someone spoke a bit too soon.
WHAM!
Before either Arnold or Milo had a chance to blink, some unidentified object whizzed right out of the blue and walloped Eugene right in the gut. The end result was the unfortunate redhead soaring backwards in his wheelchair, the momentum eventually throwing the wheelchair—and Eugene—off balance.
Both chair and jinx toppled rearward and met the ground backs first.
Racing toward the fallen boy, panicked Arnold and Milo in unison called out,
"Eugene!"
…
"I'm okay."
Milo could only facepalm.
Yep, delusional vendetta…
'On second thought, maybe I should stick with Eugene for a while longer. I might just increase his chances of survival.'
"On second thought, scratch what I said about Arnie in "The Life and Times of Mr. Hyunh". Eugene is the one who needs a break!"