~*Guess what I just found out? Hey Arnold movie is coming to Australia this summer. And all I have to say is… about bloody time! Well here's part five. Enjoy! –Risma*~

 

Love? What a Joke!

SUNDAY

That morning –

Risma jumps down from Harold's windowsill to the concrete sidewalk. She stands up and dusts herself off, then checks the camera to make sure the whole thing was captured on tape.

Risma: (Oooh this is too good!) If I could show the school this it would be such a riot.

Risma marvels at her weapon of humiliation as she turns the corner. WHAM! Phoebe is sent flying backwards. Risma stands up and offers Phoebe her hand.

Risma: Sorry about that, just wasn't watching I guess.

Phoebe: Oh no, It was all my fault. I was hurrying to Rhonda's house. She demanded I be there on time for the project. I have exactly five point three minutes to get there, so bye!

Phoebe sprints down the pavement like a streak of lightning. Risma shales her head.

Risma: (Quick little terror when she wants to be.) Must be from hanging around Pigtails. Speaking of which I'd better get over there.

Across town –

Sid is leaning against Mighty Pete, carving a face out of soap when a dark shadow looms over him. He slowly looks up and sees a young boy about his age staring right back at him.

Boy: Cool soap. You made it yourself?

Sid: Yeah! It took a while but I did it.

Boy: I've heard that you can put a curse on someone with a soap carving.

Sid stands up and slips the soap into his jacket pocket.

Sid: Take my advice, don't try it! It just causes trouble.

Boy: Oh.

Sid takes a good look at the boy. His short brown hair framed his steely blue eyes. He is wearing a huge blue T-shirt, which covers his broad shoulders, shorts that come down to his knees and the usual sneakers and socks. Unfamiliarity causes Sid to squint at him.

Sid: I haven't seen you around. You new?

Boy: Yes actually, but I came here looking for a friend. Do you know where I could get some information?

Sid rubs the back of his neck with nervousness, chuckling quietly.

Sid: Yeah, but it would definitely come at a price.

Boy: Oh really?

Sid: Gino doesn't give anything away for free.

Boy: Could you take me to this . . . Gino?

Sid shrugs his shoulders with a sigh.

Sid: Sure, but once your inside you're on your own.

The boy shifts his shoulders back and smiles.

Boy: I can handle that.

Sid stuffs his hands in his jacket and mutters.

Sid: Your funeral.

They walk to a basement outside a building, then Sid scoots off leaving the new kid there. Shrugging he knocks on the door three times. It partially opens and two eyes peer down at him.

Voice: Wadda ya want?

Boy: I have a proposition for Gino.

The door shuts in the kid's face and shuffling can be heard around inside. The door opens widely and a huge kid with bulging muscles stands there.

Bouncer: C'mon in. Gino's waitin'. Boss! Some kid's 'ere to see ya.

The kid looks around at the dark room the only light is from a single lamp, sitting of a massive desk. A menacing silhouette can be seen sitting in a huge leather chair. The kid is shoved onto a wooden stool on the other side of the desk.

Gino: What can I do for you?

Boy: It's more of a case of what I can do for you!

Gino: Keep talkin'.

The boy leans forward on the desk and squints thorough the light of the lamp to the leather chair.

Boy: My name is Mitchell and I'm in need of information.

Gino: Well that all depends on how you're willing to pay.

The leather chair rotates from side to side.

Mitchell: How about a never ending supply of . . .

He looks over at the bouncer nervously and sees a lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth. Mitchell smiles.

Mitchell: . . . lollipops.

Gino: Make them chocolate malt and you have yourself a deal.

Mitchell: Done.

Gino: Turn on the lights!

The room is flooded with brilliant light and as Mitchell's eyes adjust to it, Gino comes around the desk and stands beside him holding out his hand. Mitchell looks down with surprise at the tthree foot tall Gino and shakes his hand.

Gino: Now Mr Mitchell, what's this information you need?

Later that afternoon –

Arnold and Gerald are playing kick the can down the street. Gerald gives it a final boot and the clanks down a storm water drain. They both look disappointedly at each other as another way to amuse their time has disappeared. They start walking towards Arnold's house.

Arnold: Who are you acting like?

Gerald: Oh I have to be Harold.

Arnold: Harold?! *hahahaha*

Gerald: Hey man, it wasn't my idea! If your girlfriend hadn't . . .

Arnold glares at him with his arms across his chest. Gerald holds his hands up in mock surrender.

Gerald: . . . I'll shut up. I just hope they don't expect me to eat fifty Mr Fudgies in one go.

Arnold: Oh c'mon there's got to be other ways Harold expresses himself.

Gerald winks at Arnold then rolls the bottom of his t-shirt above his belly button and sticks his stomach out. He runs around Arnold with his arm flailing.

Gerald: MMMOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!

The two boys are rolling around on the ground laughing so hard that they are crying. Nadine and Lila walk past, then stop and stare at the boys' behaviour. Arnold is the first one to react and gives a shy grin. Lila looks over at Nadine and they both shrug and keep walking. The boys stand up, dust themselves off and sit down on the curb with their elbows on their knees.

Gerald: This'll be easy to act like Bubba. I just hope he doesn't get wreck MY image. Learning urban legends isn't as easy as you guys think.

Arnold: I somehow think that my swap will be fairly easy, but I don't know how much pain I can go through.

Gerald: You got Eugene?

Arnold: No . . . Brainy.

Pataki residence –

Helga: BRAINY?! HE HAS TO ACT LIKE WHEEZIN' ED'S OFFSPRING?!

Risma is sitting down on Helga's bed, while Helga is madly making a groove in the carpet with her insistent pacing.

Risma: I don't see what you're so upset about.

Helga: You don't understand, Brainy has a . . . a . . . thing . . .

Risma: Crush?

Helga: . . . whatever on me. I mean, he's even come out of an alleyway all dressed up with a ring for me!

Risma clasps her hand together and flutters her eyelids.

Risma: How sweet . . .

Helga: Shut up! And if Arnold finds out about the crush thing, it'll spread through the school like the flood.

Risma lies back on the bed, propping herself up with her elbows.

Risma: Again I still don't see what you have to worry about. Arnold doesn't look the type to go blabbing everything. You are way too stressed with this topic, not to mention you have a terrible emotional disorder.

Helga: I do not!

Risma: Allow me to demonstrate.

She stands up and pushes Helga onto the bed, out of her way. Risma pulls her hair out to the sides like two pigtails. She frowns and takes on an iron fist attitude.

Risma: Arnold what a loser. What a pansy waist know it all. How I despise him and yet . . .

She pretends to pull a locket out from her shirt and prances around the room.

Risma: . . . I love him. His never-ending kindness, thoughtfulness beyond compare. The way his golden locks shine like the sun. How I yearn to be in that warmth. The warmth which is love I tell you. LOVE!

Helga: ALL RIGHT ALREADY! I get the point. I didn't think I sounded that bad.

Risma: Worst part is how you're always bashing up poor Brainy after it. Arnold is going to be very injured after this.

A grin plays its way onto Risma's face and Helga frowns at it quizzically.

Risma: Hmm . . . I could get used to this poetic life style you have.

Horror rises in Helga's eyes.

Helga: Your not really going to . . .

Risma's grins grows.

Helga: You wouldn't . . .

Risma slowly nods.

Helga: You couldn't . . .

Risma rubs her hands with evil glee. Helga rushes over, grabs Risma's shirt collar and shakes her violently.

Helga: You do that and everyone will know! You'll ruin everything I've done to keep it a flippin' secret! And if you do, you'll never live to see another day! I swear!

Risma: Settle petal.

With the sudden lack of energy, Helga slumps on the bed.

Risma: For cryin' out loud, you honestly think I would do that to you?

Helga glares up at her from under her fringe.

Helga: Yes.

Risma: Okay, so I would. But he won't know. I've seen his kind before. They don't notice a thing until you've hit them over the head with a baseball bat.

Helga looks at Risma sceptically.

Risma: Helga how many times have you smiled lovingly at him? You'd have to admit he never noticed, right?

Helga: Yeah I guess so.

Risma: Ha! I reckon even if you kissed him, he still wouldn't know.

Risma waits for an answer then looks down at Helga and sees her fidgeting.

Risma: Ooooh, so the truth is out! Didn't guess did he?

Helga: No, not during the play or at the beach.

Risma: TWICE! Here I was thinking I'd have to give you tips, but it seems you've already got the moves. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink.

Helga: Oh shut up! Like you said he didn't know and he never will RIGHT?

Helga holds a clenched fist in Risma's direction, but she doesn't take any notice of it.

Risma: Well, not for now anyway. So what am I supposed to wear to school on Friday? You got anything other than pink?

Risma opens the wardrobe. Helga runs in front and slams the doors closed.

Risma: C'mon Helga. It's not like you have a shrine honouring ol' football head in the back of your wardrobe.

Helga's eyes grow with shock, so did Risma's but her grin grows bigger.

Risma: You ARE full of surprises aren't you? So let's see it!

Helga pushes Risma outside her room.

Helga: Don't you think you've caused enough trouble for one day?!

Risma: Oh but I'm just getting started . . . well I'll come around tomorrow for the clothes and I'll give you a set of mine, okay?

Helga: Yeah, yeah. Have my people call your people!

Helga slams the door in Risma's face and the little patchwork doll swings back and forth. Risma frowns at its smiling face.

Risma: How can you smile when you live in the same house as her?

She turns and walks down the stairs to the front door and leaves.