Here ya go, have fun reading. Thanks again to my reviewers... I love you guys. The 30th reviewer gets a pony.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, but Craig Bartlett does.... yada yada yada.





The Search: chapter 4

Harold shifted nervously in his chair. He looked around the office that he was in and fiddled with the tie that he was wearing. He felt very uneasy in the suit too. His eyes wandered to the sign on the desk which read Mr. Phelter.

"Uh, Harold... was it?" Mr. Phelter asked.

"Yeah. I mean yes sir!" Harold corrected himself. He smiled pathetically, little beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"Hmm. Well I've looked over your credentials... and I'm not quite sure if you're cut out for a construction worker," he said. "I'm sorry-"

"Please Mr. Phelter! I need a job really really badly!" Harold said, coming out of his seat. "Really really badly," he repeated very slowly. "Just give me a chance! I'm really strong and I know about building things! Last summer I built my own safe to hide my dirty magazines from my parents- "

"Okay, that's far enough," Mr. Phelter raised his hand. "I'll give you one chance and if you screw up just once, you're history."

"Thank you Mr. Phelter!! Thank you so much!" Harold said. He grabbed Mr. Phelter's hand and began shaking it heavily.

"Yes, now, I'll show you to your construction site," he said and led Harold out of his office. They left the trailer and stepped out into the hot, dry afternoon. "Here's your hard hat, now put it on. You'll be working over there with Frank and Jared. You see those men waving? That's them. Your job is to carry lumber to their site."

"That's it?" Harold asked. "Man this is gonna be so easy!"

"Let me show you where the lumber is," Mr. Phelter said. He led Harold to a pile of lumber that was stacked to their knees.

"Is this all the lumber?"

"Yes."

"I'll have this done in five minutes! You might as well give me my paycheck already," Harold boasted.

"After this pile... you do that pile," Mr. Phelter said and pointed to a stack that was piled three feet above his head. "And after this pile, you do that pile," he said again and pointed to another larger pile. "I think I'll hold on to that paycheck for now," he said and walked away. "Good luck Harold."

"Ahh gee..." he whined.

A few hours later, Harold was struggling on the second stack. The sun was unbearable and the dusty atmosphere made breathing difficult. "What I do for love..." he sighed.

"Hurry up!" one of the men yelled. "You've been taking your sweet time with that lumber!"

"You're putting us way behind schedule!"

"Stupid construction workers... stupid wood... stupid Rhonda," he mumbled and grunted as he carried the heavy piece of wood. His legs wobbled for a second and he tripped over a big rock in his way. Harold tumbled into the men's construction site and as he did so, he managed to bang the lumber into the wooden frame structure. Everything came crashing down, sending everyone scrambling to get out of the way.

When the dust settled, Harold sat up and rubbed his head. He noticed there were a lot of angry eyes on him. "Oh... sorry!" he called.



"Where have you been? You're late," Rhonda said to Harold as he sat down at the table. They were celebrating their anniversary at an expensive restaurant. "I'm glad none of our friends can afford this place so we don't have to worry about being seen together. And what is that smell?"

"It's probably me," he answered and sighed heavily. "I'm exhausted."

"So I take it the job worked out okay?" she asked.

"Well... yes and no. Yes in the way that I got my paycheck. And no in the way that I was fired."

"You were fired after the first day??" she asked wide-eyed.

"I sort of... kind of... ruined the construction site."

"I should have expected this, Harold," Rhonda rolled her eyes. "You could have at least taken a bath."

"I was too tired," he said.

"But at least you got a paycheck."

"Yeah... all four dollars and seventy-five cents. That's all that was left of my paycheck after I paid for the damage that I caused. And then I bought a sandwich... so that leaves me with under a dollar." Rhonda shook her head and looked away. Harold frowned and put his hands on hers. "It's okay Rhonda. I'll find another job. Please say you're not disappointed in me..."

She looked down at his hands covering hers and then at his pleading eyes. "Harold, your hands are dirty."

Harold looked down at his blistered hands, caused by the heavy lumber. He pulled them away and rested them in his lap. "Sorry..."





"You know Arnold, I don't think I've ever heard you say you hated somebody," Gerald realized a few hours after their conversation.

"I know, I didn't mean it like that. I just... strongly dislike her sometimes," he said, looking out the window. "Helga's my little black rain cloud constantly hovering over me. And I can't seem to find her silver lining. But I know it's there-"

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now over Brazil and are getting ready to land," the flight attendant interrupted.

"Helga, we're landing," Phoebe nudged her friends. "Helga wake up."

"Huh?" she moaned, opening her eyes. "There already?"

"Yep. Look out your window."

Helga saw the ground coming closer as they descended onto the runway. She could see palm trees and other tropical plants surrounding the parameter on the other side of the chain-link fence. The sky was a pinkish color due to setting sun and it was a lot clearer compared to the city's sky that they had been so used to.

When they left the airport in a cab, they were escorted to a nearby hotel set on the edge of the jungle. The hotel was actually a set of seven small houses that had a stucco appearance and a red Mexican tiled roof. Palm trees, ferns, vines, and hibiscus plants covered the hotel's landscape, giving it an exotic atmosphere, almost like it was part of the jungle itself. The complex was very nice and it looked very expensive.

"Helga, how did you manage to get us into this hotel?" Arnold asked.

"Courtesy of Big Bob," she said as she got out of the car.

"Ah Ms. Pataki! Welcome to Manaus!" the manager of the hotel said when they arrived at the front desk. "Your rooms are ready and your luggage has already arrived."

"Yes of course," she said, trying to sound important.

"I can't believe how great this is," Arnold said. He noticed that every single one of the hotel employees had beepers on their belts. "But we could have stayed in a regular hotel. Your dad didn't have to to this for us."

"Don't be stupid, Arnold. I'm not staying in some cheap dirt house deep in the jungle. But if you want to I will understand."

"Oh... no, this is fine," Gerald commented.

"Remember though, we're not here for a vacation. We have a mission," Arnold said. "We'll get a good night's sleep tonight and then we're off to business."

"Speak for yourself football head. I hear they give great massages here," Helga said.

"Massages?" Gerald asked. "Uh, I mean let's be a team," Gerald said when Arnold gave him a bad look. They followed the manager out to a golf cart and he drove them down a paved road to their room. Palm fronds reached out on both sides of the road and the jungle became dark and uninviting as the sun disappeared behind a mountain range.

The house they pulled up to rested on the edge ravine that overlooked a river, which as Phoebe pointed out, was the Amazon River. There was also a dark green jeep parked in the driveway.

"Hey Jeeves, I think you've got the wrong bungalow," Helga said. "Somebody's already taken this one."

"No ma'am," he replied, "that is your complimentary jeep to use while you enjoy your stay here."

"But none of us can drive," Arnold said. "We've always used the bus to get where we needed to go."

"Don't be silly, Arnoldo," Helga laughed. "I'm an old pro!"

"You are?" Gerald asked with doubt. "I'm sure I've never seen you behind the wheel."

Inside the house, the rooms were plain compared to the exterior of the hotel. They weren't fancy, but they were charming and quaint. In each room, connected by a bamboo door, there were two small beds with off-white sheets and two antique wooden dressers. There was no living room, just the two bedrooms and one bathroom. There were tropical plants all over the house and it felt as if you were still in the jungle. It shared a deck which you could access from a glass sliding door in each room. The deck had a beautiful view to gaze at the river or the jungle that stretched as far as they could see.

"Man all this fancy stiff and no TV? That's just sad..." Helga said after the manager had left.

"At least we have a phone," Arnold pointed out.

"It's so... tranquil compared to our city," Phoebe said. "Instead of car alarms there's just a rustle of trees and humming insects."

"I'm going to miss Buffy..." Helga complained.

After a long shower, Helga walked into her and Phoebe's room in a comfy pair of pajamas. "I feel so much better!" she said. "For your sake, jungle boy, I better get used to this humid weather or I'm leaving early," she said to Arnold.

"I didn't know you couldn't handle something as small as a climate change," he said. "I thought you were freezing on the plane."

"Well now I'm not. And I can handle anything that's thrown at me."

"This bed has been calling my name ever since we got here," Gerald said as he jumped backwards onto the mattress. Arnold turned off the lamp next to his bed and climbed in under the sheets. Helga and Phoebe did the same in their own beds.

"First thing tomorrow, we start looking," Arnold whispered to Gerald.

"Where do we even begin to look?" he asked.

"I guess we need to find that village first. We'll-"

"Will you guys shut up!?" Helga shouted from the other room.

"Good night Helga," Gerald said in a mocking, gentle voice. "Don't let the bed bugs bite. You know, the ones that cause you to get horrible rashes and what not."

"Don't make me come in there," she warned.

Arnold and Gerald tried to hold in their laughter. "She's just full of hot air," Arnold whispered.

"I heard that," she said. "And it's better than what YOU'RE full of."



That night, someone was waiting in a dark parking lot in the city of Manaus. A dirty, rusted truck pulled up, it's lights shut off for a purpose. They got out of the car and handed the person that was waiting a brown folder.

"Where's my payment," they asked as they handed the folder. It was a man, his voice gave it away.

"You'll get it... if everything's here," the other replied. It was a woman.

"It is."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm positive. Now can I have the money or what?" he said impatiently.

"Thanks for your work," she said and placed some money in his outstretched hand. "I'll call you if I need you again."

"Oh no, after tonight, I'm through," he replied, stuffing the money in his pocket. "You can get somebody else to do your dirty work." The man's accent sounded like he was from Brazil, but the woman's was American.

"Suit yourself," she said. "Are you sure it's all here?"

"Yeah, like I said before, it's all there!" he whispered harshly. The man turned to get in his car, but she grabbed his arm.

"If I find that you left something out... I don't care if it's one document... it'll be the end of you." "Lady, you're pushing the wrong buttons," he threatened. "I hate you government agents and I don't like dealing with you, but my family has got to eat. And I swear on my mother's grave, all the papers are there. I should know, I filed all of them away."

She let go of his arm and he got into his rusted Ford truck, which wasn't the most stealthiest of vehicles. With his lights still shut off, he pulled away, back into the dark shadows that he came from. The woman watched him leave for a second. Eventually, she got into her own car and silently made her exit.