****** Hey! S'mee again! Chapper 4! Much longer than chapper 3... hehe... anyhoo, read and review! ooh! What's Opera Arnold was just on a few minutes ago... hehehehe, I love the part Curly sings... you think Curly and Helga could ever work? You know what I mean? They sorta look... similar... like cousins or something... and both of them are insane.... well, Curly's insane all of the time (though I wonder if it's just for the attention... no one ever notices the poor kid unless he's actin crazy or annoying or disgusting... though it may just be that he was dropped on his head too many times as a child...) and Helga's getting there, lool. But I still think Helga and Arnold are cute together... or Helga and Brainy (Po' widdle Brainy needs somebody!!!)... or Helga and Harold (but that'd never work...still, I crack up everytime i see that one episode: YOU SAVED MY LIFE!!!! I THINK I LOVE YOU!!!!!)... but I can't think of Arnold being with anyone but Helga. Eh, Arnold can die a lonely old bachelor for all I care if he doesnt end up with Helga.******
****** Hey, what's the deal with the men in Arnold's family all falling for crazy girls that like to pick on people and fight a lot? You know, Gertie picked on Phil, Stella... well, she wanted to kill Eduardo... and Helga picks on Arnold... they's crazy ppl, I'll tell you Hwat. Man, I talk too much.... ******
******Sorry, what say I get on with the story? This chappers not gonna be long jest on accounta the babble, you know, I'm actually gonna write the chapper... Right.... Now!******
All in Your Head-Chapter 4
******Disclaimer: Ah, tis Christmas time, my favorite time of the year... the time when ppl put down they're guns and sue each other... ahh, peace and harmony... can't you jest smell it in the air? Hmm... what's on tv? Oh wait.. I dont have tv, I HAVE NOTHING!!!!!! *cries* SANTA!!!! WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME????? ******
By 2:30, the rain fell so hard, she gave up on trying to get home, and instead looked for someplace to hide. It started to hail, and she sought shelter beneath a bench at a nearby bus stop. She would lay in a puddle under that bench, as cold and wet as she would would have been if she was sitting on it, but at least there was some protection from the hard, frozen rocks that were falling from the sky with the rain. Above and all around her she could hear the hard pellets of ice pounding on the bench and cracking as they bounced off the ground. She felt foolish. Hiding under a bench in a storm: Helga had reached a new low.
She now wanted nothing more than to go home, a place on any other occasion she would be so desperate to avoid but on this day the only place she felt... what was it... safe? A sense of truth? Perhaps it was both.
Home was definately safer than the city during a storm, especially when one had no where to hide from the downpour but beneath a bench, completely alone. True, at home she would have been just as lonely. Miriam could undoubtedly be found asleep in the kitchen or behind the couch, and Bob- Bob would most likely be sitting in front of the television watching his beeper commercials, laughing, yelling; being his usual obnoxious self. Yes, her so-called "family" would ignore her as they had for the past 14 years, but at least home was dry and warm.
Home gave her a feeling of truth. Everything at home was the same. Nothing wrould surprise her, nothing would change. There was no opportunity for disappointment at home because home was already a disappointment and she was used to it.
At home, Helga had her books, pens and pencils, with which she could express the feelings of contempt, sadness, and betrayal that were eating away at her soul as she lay curled up pitifully under that bench. Writing made her feel better, gave her a sense of hope, that all was not lost, things would get better. Writing these things down would also free these feelings and keep them from being completely bottled up inside of her. It was as if Helga's emotions were held in something like a balloon. Writing allowed just enough of these emotions to leak out. If she couldn't write, these emotions wouldn't have a way out, and the balloon would just get bigger and bigger. Finally, if the balloon became too full of these emotions, it would burst, and that would not be a pretty sight to behold. If not for her diaries and books of poetry, she would have lost it long ago.
Lost what? Her mind, her will, her faith in people, her faith in Arnold (the one that mattered most), her essence, her self. Without this ability to express herself, she would probably have lost all of these things. Helga would be an empty vessel, a mere shell of a being without purpose. No person could live like that, not even Helga.
The consistent drumming sound of the rain and hail beating against the bench above her slowed to a steady pat-patting sound. She crawled out from beneath the bench, very relieved that it had stopped hailing and the rain had slowed down somewhat. For some odd reason, she found it necessary to try to wring the water out of the bottom of her dress, and did so. Knowing that this too would do her little good, she took off her shoes and did the same with her socks, squeezing the water out of them as she had done with the hem of her dress. When she decided her socks were dry enough, she put her socks and shoes back on. A sock and a shoe, and a sock and a shoe. She then continued her walk home once more.
Something about the rain slowing made her feel... better... cheerful even. She wasn't as angry at Arnold for abandoning her (she went down from KILL ARNOLD to ARG, THAT STUPID FOOTBALL HEAD). The world didn't look so dark and horrible (but maybe that was because the clouds weren't as black...) any more.
All of a sudden, Helga had the strangest urge to sing and skip through the streets. So... this was what it felt like to go insane. Well, she certainly couldn't complain. Insanity was like a thick blanket thrown over her head. Warm and comforting, it made you sort of dizzy as you suffocated in it, but you felt good all the same.
Whether this was insanity, or some form of denial, she decided as she had once before that she was a complete basketcase. A cold, wet, dilusional basketcase who was humming a song from the Musical: Rats, the Musical of Singing Rats, to be more specific.
She passed Arnold's house and started to sing softly to herself.
"
"I ain't happy... I'm feeling glad... I got sunshine... in a bag... I'm useless... but not for long... my future is coming on...."
No idea where that song came from. She had heard it a few times on the radio before, but had never thought much of it. She didn't even think she knew any of the lyrics, not to mention the title. Oh... wait... now the title popped into her mind. "Clint Eastwood" by the Gorrillaz. A weird title for a weird song. She imagined there must be some reasoning behind the title, but it didn't make much sense in her mind. But then again, not much made sense to her at all. She tried to remember the rest, but the words escaped her.
"Helga?"
Now, her thoughts of insanity, basketcases and Clint Eastwood were interrupted by something, and she remembered what had happened earlier. The warm feeling of insanity was replaced by cold realization.
"Helga!" again, someone called her name. What did they want?
She turned around and the rain stopped. No... the rain hadn't stopped, she could still hear it. Then what...?
"Helga!" someone called again.
If it was STILL RAINING, then why wasn't she GETTING WET?
"Helga?" the person patted her lightly on the cheek, "Helga?"
She blinked.
He whacked her a few more times, this time a little harder, and she finally snapped at him.
"Cut it out, Footballhead!" she yelled.
"Helga!" he said for the what... 5th time, only happily. He dropped the umbrella he had been holding over her head and hugged her, "You're ok!" he exclaimed.
Just like the good old days. Hug, grin, smack, shove.
"Who said you could touch me?" Helga shreiked.
Arnold frowned for a split-second, and smiled again, "Sorry, Helga," he apologized, "But I'm just glad that you're ok!"
"Doi, I'm ok!" Helga spat, "No thanks to you!"
"I'm SO sorry! I forgot my umbrella," he pointed to the blue umbrella he was holding above her head again, "and I figured you wouldn't have brought one, so I went to get it so you wouldn't have to walk home wet! But when I got to the bus stop, you were already gone! I looked all over for you...."
Helga sneezed.
"You're sick." Arnold said.
"Am not." Helga sniffled.
"Are too."
"Am not!"
"ARE TOO!!!" Arnold sang.
"AM.. no- ACHOO!" Helga sneezed again.
Arnold now realized how wet Helga was.
"Come on," he said, "My house is right over there, you can warm up inside." he took her by the arm, and winced at how cold her skin felt.
"No..." she whined and tried to pull away, but sneezed again, and Arnold continued to pull her to the boardinghouse.
He opened the door, and stopped for a moment in case any of his grandmother's pets were waiting to be set free, but none tried to escape that day, most likely because it was too wet.
"Ladies first," he said, being the gentleman that he was, and allowed a sniffling Helga to walk inside before him.
His grandpa was the first to greet them. Phil was heading down the stairs when he heard the door, "Hey shortman how-" he stopped when he saw Helga, "Why hello, little girl! Arnold!" he gasped, "Why is your little friend here so wet?"
"Um, well..."
"I forgot my umbrella today, Phil." Helga answered, "Arnold here was kind enough to share his, but as you can see..." she peeled a bit of the pink fabric that was her dress from her leg, "...he was a bit too late."
Phil laughed, "Well, lemme know if you two need anything, I'll be at the office," he said and ran back up the stairs, groaning and muttering something about 'pookie, watermelon, and raspberries'.
Helga looked at Arnold, who just shrugged and led her into the kitchen.
Arnold's grandma was in the kitchen, a spatula in one hand and a net in the other. She wore army fatigues, a headband from her karate outfit and goggles, but she wasn't wearing any shoes. "I'll get you my pretty..." she said as she chased a moth around the room, trying to smack it with the spatula. It seemed that Arnold's grandmother was getting her "personalities" a bit mixed up that day. Another side-effect of the day's rain?
"Hello, Kimba!" Gertie greeted her grandson, "Ready to help me catch the Pteradactyl? We're having fried Raptor tonight! HIYAA!" she tried to hit the moth again, but missed and hit Arnold in the face.
"Ow..." Arnold rubbed his nose, "Um... no thanks, Grandma... I have to help Helga..." he gestured towards Helga who stood by the doorway with a bemused expression in her eyes.
"Eleanor, you're soaking wet!" Grandma exclaimed, "Did you fall in the Niagra again?"
"No, just taking a nap in a puddle under a bench during a storm, same thing I do every time it rains." Helga responded.
"Oh..." Gertie thought for a moment, "Well, you should make sure not to let the seat get too cold." she said, and went back to chasing the moth.
Helga looked at Arnold again, "Is your Grandma ok?" she whispered.
"I think so, she gets like this whenever it rains... being locked in the house bores her, you know. Grandpa won't let her out in the rain anymore because of what she did to his car a couple years ago."
"What'd you do?"
Arnold grinned, "She decided to play 'Titanic', and opened all of the windows so the car filled up with water and 'sank' It took 5 weeks for it to completely dry, and we still can't get rid of the smell..."
Helga laughed, and sneezed again.
"Come on, Helga, we need to get you something warm." he put some water in a teakettle and put in on a burner, on medium, and then headed upstairs with Helga.
******No reason why I stopped there, I jest wanted to get this EXTREMELY LONG chapper posted before I forgot and lost my marbles again. You know it took me two days to find em last time... well, it aint happenin again, i tells ya!******
****** REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!******
****** Hey, what's the deal with the men in Arnold's family all falling for crazy girls that like to pick on people and fight a lot? You know, Gertie picked on Phil, Stella... well, she wanted to kill Eduardo... and Helga picks on Arnold... they's crazy ppl, I'll tell you Hwat. Man, I talk too much.... ******
******Sorry, what say I get on with the story? This chappers not gonna be long jest on accounta the babble, you know, I'm actually gonna write the chapper... Right.... Now!******
All in Your Head-Chapter 4
******Disclaimer: Ah, tis Christmas time, my favorite time of the year... the time when ppl put down they're guns and sue each other... ahh, peace and harmony... can't you jest smell it in the air? Hmm... what's on tv? Oh wait.. I dont have tv, I HAVE NOTHING!!!!!! *cries* SANTA!!!! WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME????? ******
By 2:30, the rain fell so hard, she gave up on trying to get home, and instead looked for someplace to hide. It started to hail, and she sought shelter beneath a bench at a nearby bus stop. She would lay in a puddle under that bench, as cold and wet as she would would have been if she was sitting on it, but at least there was some protection from the hard, frozen rocks that were falling from the sky with the rain. Above and all around her she could hear the hard pellets of ice pounding on the bench and cracking as they bounced off the ground. She felt foolish. Hiding under a bench in a storm: Helga had reached a new low.
She now wanted nothing more than to go home, a place on any other occasion she would be so desperate to avoid but on this day the only place she felt... what was it... safe? A sense of truth? Perhaps it was both.
Home was definately safer than the city during a storm, especially when one had no where to hide from the downpour but beneath a bench, completely alone. True, at home she would have been just as lonely. Miriam could undoubtedly be found asleep in the kitchen or behind the couch, and Bob- Bob would most likely be sitting in front of the television watching his beeper commercials, laughing, yelling; being his usual obnoxious self. Yes, her so-called "family" would ignore her as they had for the past 14 years, but at least home was dry and warm.
Home gave her a feeling of truth. Everything at home was the same. Nothing wrould surprise her, nothing would change. There was no opportunity for disappointment at home because home was already a disappointment and she was used to it.
At home, Helga had her books, pens and pencils, with which she could express the feelings of contempt, sadness, and betrayal that were eating away at her soul as she lay curled up pitifully under that bench. Writing made her feel better, gave her a sense of hope, that all was not lost, things would get better. Writing these things down would also free these feelings and keep them from being completely bottled up inside of her. It was as if Helga's emotions were held in something like a balloon. Writing allowed just enough of these emotions to leak out. If she couldn't write, these emotions wouldn't have a way out, and the balloon would just get bigger and bigger. Finally, if the balloon became too full of these emotions, it would burst, and that would not be a pretty sight to behold. If not for her diaries and books of poetry, she would have lost it long ago.
Lost what? Her mind, her will, her faith in people, her faith in Arnold (the one that mattered most), her essence, her self. Without this ability to express herself, she would probably have lost all of these things. Helga would be an empty vessel, a mere shell of a being without purpose. No person could live like that, not even Helga.
The consistent drumming sound of the rain and hail beating against the bench above her slowed to a steady pat-patting sound. She crawled out from beneath the bench, very relieved that it had stopped hailing and the rain had slowed down somewhat. For some odd reason, she found it necessary to try to wring the water out of the bottom of her dress, and did so. Knowing that this too would do her little good, she took off her shoes and did the same with her socks, squeezing the water out of them as she had done with the hem of her dress. When she decided her socks were dry enough, she put her socks and shoes back on. A sock and a shoe, and a sock and a shoe. She then continued her walk home once more.
Something about the rain slowing made her feel... better... cheerful even. She wasn't as angry at Arnold for abandoning her (she went down from KILL ARNOLD to ARG, THAT STUPID FOOTBALL HEAD). The world didn't look so dark and horrible (but maybe that was because the clouds weren't as black...) any more.
All of a sudden, Helga had the strangest urge to sing and skip through the streets. So... this was what it felt like to go insane. Well, she certainly couldn't complain. Insanity was like a thick blanket thrown over her head. Warm and comforting, it made you sort of dizzy as you suffocated in it, but you felt good all the same.
Whether this was insanity, or some form of denial, she decided as she had once before that she was a complete basketcase. A cold, wet, dilusional basketcase who was humming a song from the Musical: Rats, the Musical of Singing Rats, to be more specific.
She passed Arnold's house and started to sing softly to herself.
"
"I ain't happy... I'm feeling glad... I got sunshine... in a bag... I'm useless... but not for long... my future is coming on...."
No idea where that song came from. She had heard it a few times on the radio before, but had never thought much of it. She didn't even think she knew any of the lyrics, not to mention the title. Oh... wait... now the title popped into her mind. "Clint Eastwood" by the Gorrillaz. A weird title for a weird song. She imagined there must be some reasoning behind the title, but it didn't make much sense in her mind. But then again, not much made sense to her at all. She tried to remember the rest, but the words escaped her.
"Helga?"
Now, her thoughts of insanity, basketcases and Clint Eastwood were interrupted by something, and she remembered what had happened earlier. The warm feeling of insanity was replaced by cold realization.
"Helga!" again, someone called her name. What did they want?
She turned around and the rain stopped. No... the rain hadn't stopped, she could still hear it. Then what...?
"Helga!" someone called again.
If it was STILL RAINING, then why wasn't she GETTING WET?
"Helga?" the person patted her lightly on the cheek, "Helga?"
She blinked.
He whacked her a few more times, this time a little harder, and she finally snapped at him.
"Cut it out, Footballhead!" she yelled.
"Helga!" he said for the what... 5th time, only happily. He dropped the umbrella he had been holding over her head and hugged her, "You're ok!" he exclaimed.
Just like the good old days. Hug, grin, smack, shove.
"Who said you could touch me?" Helga shreiked.
Arnold frowned for a split-second, and smiled again, "Sorry, Helga," he apologized, "But I'm just glad that you're ok!"
"Doi, I'm ok!" Helga spat, "No thanks to you!"
"I'm SO sorry! I forgot my umbrella," he pointed to the blue umbrella he was holding above her head again, "and I figured you wouldn't have brought one, so I went to get it so you wouldn't have to walk home wet! But when I got to the bus stop, you were already gone! I looked all over for you...."
Helga sneezed.
"You're sick." Arnold said.
"Am not." Helga sniffled.
"Are too."
"Am not!"
"ARE TOO!!!" Arnold sang.
"AM.. no- ACHOO!" Helga sneezed again.
Arnold now realized how wet Helga was.
"Come on," he said, "My house is right over there, you can warm up inside." he took her by the arm, and winced at how cold her skin felt.
"No..." she whined and tried to pull away, but sneezed again, and Arnold continued to pull her to the boardinghouse.
He opened the door, and stopped for a moment in case any of his grandmother's pets were waiting to be set free, but none tried to escape that day, most likely because it was too wet.
"Ladies first," he said, being the gentleman that he was, and allowed a sniffling Helga to walk inside before him.
His grandpa was the first to greet them. Phil was heading down the stairs when he heard the door, "Hey shortman how-" he stopped when he saw Helga, "Why hello, little girl! Arnold!" he gasped, "Why is your little friend here so wet?"
"Um, well..."
"I forgot my umbrella today, Phil." Helga answered, "Arnold here was kind enough to share his, but as you can see..." she peeled a bit of the pink fabric that was her dress from her leg, "...he was a bit too late."
Phil laughed, "Well, lemme know if you two need anything, I'll be at the office," he said and ran back up the stairs, groaning and muttering something about 'pookie, watermelon, and raspberries'.
Helga looked at Arnold, who just shrugged and led her into the kitchen.
Arnold's grandma was in the kitchen, a spatula in one hand and a net in the other. She wore army fatigues, a headband from her karate outfit and goggles, but she wasn't wearing any shoes. "I'll get you my pretty..." she said as she chased a moth around the room, trying to smack it with the spatula. It seemed that Arnold's grandmother was getting her "personalities" a bit mixed up that day. Another side-effect of the day's rain?
"Hello, Kimba!" Gertie greeted her grandson, "Ready to help me catch the Pteradactyl? We're having fried Raptor tonight! HIYAA!" she tried to hit the moth again, but missed and hit Arnold in the face.
"Ow..." Arnold rubbed his nose, "Um... no thanks, Grandma... I have to help Helga..." he gestured towards Helga who stood by the doorway with a bemused expression in her eyes.
"Eleanor, you're soaking wet!" Grandma exclaimed, "Did you fall in the Niagra again?"
"No, just taking a nap in a puddle under a bench during a storm, same thing I do every time it rains." Helga responded.
"Oh..." Gertie thought for a moment, "Well, you should make sure not to let the seat get too cold." she said, and went back to chasing the moth.
Helga looked at Arnold again, "Is your Grandma ok?" she whispered.
"I think so, she gets like this whenever it rains... being locked in the house bores her, you know. Grandpa won't let her out in the rain anymore because of what she did to his car a couple years ago."
"What'd you do?"
Arnold grinned, "She decided to play 'Titanic', and opened all of the windows so the car filled up with water and 'sank' It took 5 weeks for it to completely dry, and we still can't get rid of the smell..."
Helga laughed, and sneezed again.
"Come on, Helga, we need to get you something warm." he put some water in a teakettle and put in on a burner, on medium, and then headed upstairs with Helga.
******No reason why I stopped there, I jest wanted to get this EXTREMELY LONG chapper posted before I forgot and lost my marbles again. You know it took me two days to find em last time... well, it aint happenin again, i tells ya!******
****** REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!******
