No disclaimer this time, boys and girls. I said it, and you know it.
Hello, Brunild. Yes, I have a horrible habit of not finishing stories that I start, not only with my fics, but also with my other fiction. I still know what's going to happen at the end, I just need the inspiration and the means to get there. I am working on Miriam as we speak, the next chapter, and Aunt Martha I'll look at once I get Miriam running again. I'll finish this one first, though, because it's easiest.
And thank you also angielabshelga and Chudney for reviewing. :-D :-D
The Reel Thing, continued
Helga trudged down the street towards her house with Phoebe following closely behind her, although having to practically run to catch up with her. As they approached the house, Helga continued to complain about her duties as screenwriter of the class project.
"I can't believe how many vultures we have in our class, Phoebs. I mean, jeez, I could barely take a step before someone was taking it for me," Helga chuckled to herself.
Phoebe nodded. "Yes Helga, I noticed, but I must say that some of the suggestions that our classmates offered for the plot of the story were quite feasible, and I don't see why you turned them down so…so…tenaciously," Phoebe said, slowing as Helga slowed to a stop on her front stoop.
"It took you a while to come up with that one, huh Phoebs?" Helga said, referring to Phoebe's choice of vocabulary. "Try this one on for size…the quality and or the validity of the proposed plots were not that which was in question that caused me to make the decision that I made," Helga said, leaning against her stoop, attempting to mock Phoebe.
"Well…"
Helga sighed. "I have no pity for them, Phoebe. I mean, who's the one working here? Who is the one who raised her hand and volunteered for the job that no one else wanted, because it was 'too hard,' or they'd 'get hand cramps' or 'break a nail' or 'uh…*inhale*…something," Helga pointed out, recalling the responses that some of her classmates had made at school. "It was me, doi! I took initial ideas for the story, but that was and is it. Anyone else who may have some idea is crap out of luck. They should have thought of that when they refused the position in class."
Phoebe took this into consideration before answering. "Well, Helga, what's wrong with a few suggestions? I mean, after all, the whole point of Mr. Simmons' project was that we learn to work cooperatively even when we have our own occupations with specific prerequisites. I'm sure actual screenwriters get ideas from others as well," Phoebe said, digging her feet into the dirt between the crack in the sidewalk in front of Helga's house.
"Yeah, but its too late in the game now, Phoebs," Helga immediately said. "I already had to adopt the stupid Leppy the good luck Leprechaun thing for my legend, and that was perfectly ridiculous to start with. I mean, come on, a leprechaun? I swear Phoebs, one of these days, you and I could make up our own legend, and they'd eat it right up!"
Phoebe laughed at that comment. "Oh yeah, like that one you thought up in the script. We could concoct an imaginative plot involving your spit balls being projected onto Arnold's head acting as some sort of foreboding to future events."
Helga rubbed her chin thoughtfully before coming up with another possibility. "I've got a better one…we could employ someone…like maybe Eugene, I don't know…to be the living Cupid or something, and say that he lives down in Dorksville and you can send a letter to his address and get a potion for instant true love or something. That would be hilarious!"
Before Phoebe could respond, Big Bob, who had been looking out of the sidelights waiting for Helga to arrive, burst through the door. "Crimeny, Olga, what took you so long?" he exclaimed, looking through the door down at Helga and Phoebe.
"It's Helga, Dad."
"Yeah, well, whatever. Anyway, you and your little friend get inside. You're making me nervous, standing out here, like you're plotting or something," Bob said, scratching the back of his neck and allowing the girls room to squeeze inside of the house.
Helga eyed her father as they entered the foyer. "Dad, you haven't been watching the Paranoia Zone again, have you?" she said, as she and Phoebe ascended up the stairs to her room. "Don't worry Dad, me and Phoebs won't be long. I'll be down in time to tape the match for you."
Helga's father, a TV guide in his hand, yelled up the stairs at Helga. "And don't forget, Little Lady, tape it EP instead of SP! I don't want it to cut off again!"
Helga and Phoebe passed by Miriam, who was holding her head as she joined Bob in the entranceway. "B, I swear, you do give me a headache sometimes. What are you yelling about this time?"
Once Helga and Phoebe were safe in Helga's room, Phoebe glared at Helga after the scene her family had made. "Yeah, and my Dad's and idiot as well," Helga said, as if answering the question Phoebe had in her eyes. Phoebe, by now used to the Pataki shenanigans, shrugged and sat on Helga's bed.
"Well, Helga, now that we are in a more concealed environment, I feel it imperative to tell you now what has been bothering me for the past few hours, if that's alright with you," Phoebe said, folding her hands in her lap and looking somewhat subdued.
Helga, surprised by Phoebe's apparent revelation, sat next to her friend, joining her on the bed. "Well, Phoebs, spill it? What's eating you?"
Phoebe sighed. "Somehow I feel as if you have an idea of what I am trying to convey," Phoebe said stubbornly. Helga pondered for a while, before lighting up with a smile.
"Oh, you mean that whole, 'We all know why you agree so wholeheartedly' thing!" Helga said, laughing. "Well Phoebs, I thought it was a harmless joke. I thought you could handle it…"
"Well, I can't, Helga, okay!" Phoebe interjected, beginning to get excited under the topic. "I mean, I know how I feel, you know how I feel, Gerald knows how I feel, but I still feel uncomfortable revealing it in front of the entire class, and the script was a little bit…suggestive."
Helga waved her hand at Phoebe. "Aww, come on, Phoebe. It wasn't that serious. I mean, it was a harmless gag, and it wasn't all that apparent what I was referring to. And if people in our class are anywhere as dense as Arnold is when it comes to those types of perceptions, you're totally safe from suspicion," Helga said, patting Phoebe on the back. "Besides, it's not like you and Gerald weren't candid with the whole thing. I'd be surprised if everyone didn't know already."
Phoebe wasn't satisfied with Helga's response, holding back slight blushing. "Yes, but still Helga, regardless of what you may believe or know that people may claim to believe or know, it is the principle of the whole matter. That's why you have to promise me you'll never write that into the movie again, okay?" Phoebe said hurriedly, getting up from Helga's bed as a gesture to end the conversation.
"Hey wait, Phoebs, are you sure about that?" Helga said, catching up with her friend as they both exited the room. "You know, you could use the movie as a cover for any ulterior motives, you know? Anything you want, as a matter of fact, I guarantee that I could get it written in. A hidden love story, action, suspense, what?" Helga offered graciously as she and her friend walked down the stairs.
Phoebe exhaled, seeming to muse about the possibilities before shaking her head. "No Helga, as tempting as it sounds to use the script to convey the otherwise sheltered feelings that I have, I don't think it would be fair for me to have a say in your plot and not any of the others. And anyway, like you said before, the whole world knows, at least by now. I just don't want to rub it in," Phoebe said, as she and Helga reached the front door.
Helga shrugged, opening the door for Phoebe. "Okay, suit yourself, Phoebs. Just remember what I told you. Anything, and you got it," Helga said, as she waved at Phoebe as she descended the front steps and walked in the direction of her own house. Helga gently closed the door and went into the living room where Big Bob had left the tape to tape the wrestling match. Thinking she was alone, Helga began to talk to herself.
"Phoebe doesn't realize, none of them realize, what power I hold in my hand with the mere possession of the pen that I use to write this script," Helga said, digging both her script and her pen out of the sofa. "With this pen, I can create all sorts of realities, all sorts of dreams and goals that may never come to fruition. I could create the best horror story anyone's ever seen, with blood and guts and gore," she said, pretending to stab the pen into her stomach. "Or, I create the action flick everyone runs to see in the theaters, with my daring hero swinging on vines to save the life of the damsel in distress," Helga said, spinning around and removing her locket from her shirt. "Or, ah, it could be a romance, the story of love triumphing over hate, and all Tall Hair Boys that stand before them," Helga said, clutching her fists as she recalled all of the times Gerald had pulled her away from Arnold. "And while those cameras roll, it would all be true, the real thing. But when they stop, it's all over, and I could use it for an excuse. And gradually, the world will become mine. All mine! Mua-ha he ha he ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa!"
Big Bob and Miriam, who were in the kitchen the whole time, stepped into the living room at that point, and glared at Helga. Helga stopped her evil laugh, her face dropped, and she looked back at them. For a moment, both parties were in silence. Then finally, Miriam spoke up. "On second thought, B, I think I'll stay home. I don't think we can leave Helga here alone," she said, holding her head in her hand as she shook the bottle of Tabasco sauce in her hand.
Bob shrugged. "Suit yourself, Miriam. Hey, you want an egg role one the side when I order it for you?"
"Bob, don't I always?" Miriam responded lethargically.
"Yeah, okay, whatever," Bob said, as he exited the house. Once outside, on the porch, he muttered to himself, "That's it. The girl's a loon."
Back inside, Miriam returned to the kitchen, and Helga buried herself in the couch while she feverishly wrote the script. In the background, Belchin' Benny and The Anomaly had just begun the match. Instead of watching the match, which Helga was wont to do, she was entranced by the sound of the VCR recording mechanism, as she was lulled by the sound of the tape being wound.
"Okay, lets see, what comes next?" Helga thought to herself. "Oh, I know…its days later, and still no pot of gold, and Gerald says, 'Hey Arnold, man, I'm getting' sick of this," Helga said, mimicking Gerald's speech pattern, then laughing to herself. "Helga, you are a genius. Oh yeah, where was I? Here we go… 'We've been going to this island everyday this week, count them, that's Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…"
"…Thursday, and Friday, Arnold! Now, its Saturday, and we haven't so much as found a lucky turd!" Gerald exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air as Arnold wiped the sweat from his brow, streaking a line of dirt across his face. "C'mon, Man. I say we just give it up. I mean, why uncover the legend of Leppy. It's a great legend," Gerald resolved.
Helga, who had been lurking in the background, came to the forefront. "For once, I've got to agree with Geraldo here, Football Head," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "That whole Leppy crap was schemed up by some weirdo who liked to see kids like us foraging through this island, looking for a pot of gold that never really existed. Leppy's whole existence is dependent on saps like us who try to uncover it, fail miserably, and pass it on to the next generation of saps to do the same," Helga summarized, rolling her eyes at Arnold.
Arnold put down his shovel and rested on a large rock that was conveniently behind him when he fell upon it. "I don't know, you guys. I just have a strange feeling about this thing, and I don't have those feelings about just anything. Okay, so maybe there's no pot of gold, but there's something on this island, some type of treasure that's waiting to be uncovered, and we're the ones who are going to find it!" Arnold said, smiling a little more than meekly under his fatigue.
Stinky, who had been searching through the caves with a flashlight, emerged with sweat dripping down his face. "Willikers, fellers, I don' think I can take anymore of this diggin' day in an' day out stuff," he said, leaning against a tree and dropping the flashlight to the ground.
Sid, who was presently fanning himself with a frond, also spoke up. "Yeah Arnold, I agree with Helga and Gerald. We tried, and we were fooled, and there's no Leppy here, and no pot of gold. Face it Arnold…I'm a sap, you're a sap, and we're all saps for believing this whole thing in the first place!"
"Yeah, and besides…I'm hungry, and there's nothing to eat on this stupid island but these stupid berries!" Harold whined, his mouth smeared with the juice of the several berries that he consumed. Suddenly, his stomach grumbled, and a look of fresh nausea clouded his face. "Oh, I don't feel so good," he gurgled, finally fainting onto the ground. Helga rolled her eyes at the site.
"Okay, people, step aside, step aside!" she said, leaning over Harold. She then shook her head. "Well, Phoebs, grab me my first aid kit and let's haul this tub of lard over there before he dies or something." Helga groaned, hefting Harold's entire weight from under his arms and dragging him over the path to the shade of the nearest tree. Phoebe grabbed the first aid kit.
"Coming!"
For a while, as the rest of the class emerged from the woods, Arnold just stared at the sight. Harold passed out from eating Elk Island berries, Rhonda with her hair matted and her clothing dirty and torn, and the rest of them equally shabby-looking.
Arnold lit up at the sight of some of his classmates. "Look, you guys…at least some of us are happy. Look at Nadine!" Nadine dragged Rhonda along to the beach in one arm and held in another arm a large plastic container with holes punched in the lid, carrying a living praying mantis. "And how about Eugene," Arnold said, pointing as Eugene and Sheena emerged from the woods doing their characteristic choreographed step, until Eugene rolled down the beach and slammed into a rock at the bottom.
"I'm okay."
Arnold scanned the beach for anyone else. "Hey, where's Curly?" he asked. Everyone looked in direction of the woods. Rhonda, who became animated after Nadine splashed water in her face, responded.
"Who knows and who cares! Good riddance to the demented little freak," she said, crossing her arms. She then saw Nadine's praying mantis and screamed, jumping on Arnold and causing him to nearly collapse. "Nadine, get that…that…that monster away from me!"
Nadine picked up the plastic container and took it under her arm, as the mantis knocked on the lid. "Aw, come on Rhonda, it's just a praying mantis. Here, take a look. Doesn't it look just a little cute to you?" Rhonda, in response to the question, screamed again. She stopped when she seemed to hear an echo. Arnold, slowly regaining his hearing as Rhonda scooted away from him, heard the second call. A rustling could be heard in the trees, and the cry got louder.
The kids looked at each other, and Helga and Phoebe stopped to listen as they had revived Harold. He sat up and looked around. "What the…"
"Whooooaaaaaaaaaah!" the cry screamed out again. This time, the figure making the sound emerged, and it was none other than Curly, stripped down to his boxers and wearing a loin cloth with a strap strung around his shoulders. He landed expertly on his bare feet in the sand, sliding slightly and raising sand so that after it finally settled, everyone was coated. Curly grinned brightly as he dusted himself out.
"And see, Curly's having a good time, too," Arnold said, trying to liven up the spirits of his classmates.
Curly pranced around his classmates, who were all sprawled out around a rock in the middle of the beach. "I tell ya, there's nothing like the fresh air and sunburn to bring that primordial spirit out in a man," Curly boasted, snapping his cloth strap as if it were suspenders. "Can't you just smell it, Rhonda," he said, leaning against Rhonda.
Rhonda pushed him away. "Eww, gross, get him away from me," Rhonda said, pushing him away and grimacing. As Helga, Harold and Phoebe rejoined the group, the kids watched as spinning sand made its way across the beach.
Sid's eyes widened. "What the heck is that?"
Phoebe, once again, all-knowing, adjusted her glasses. "Actually Sid, what you are watching is a phenomena commonly known as a dirt devil, a smaller and less ferocious version of tornadoes. Dirt devils are fairly common and harmless, although it's sort of unprecedented to have one in this part of the country." On that note, the dirt devil engulfed the group of kids, rounding up with it the sand and a little bit of moisture from the river. It seemed to hover over them before the whole thing dissolved, dropping the remaining sand over them. For a few seconds, there was a stunned silence.
Stinky, who had been in silent contemplation the whole time, spoke up. "That's it, Arnold, this r'ally bites!" he said, dusting himself off, and walking towards the dock. "I'm fed up with all'a this diggin' and stuff. I quit!" Soon, the rest of the gang followed closely behind him, all muttering in agreement.
"Yeah, lets all go home…and get some food!" Harold said, raising his fist. He was received with many shouts of agreement. Feeling power suddenly with his fist, he rallied the rest of the class. "Yeah, all of you can come over my house, and we'll have a party. Yeah, and we'll watch Wrestlemania on TV…my Mom taped it," the kids enthusiastically followed Harold to the dock as Earl pulled up with his boat. While they were boarding, Helga glanced back and saw Arnold still sitting there. Curious to see what was bothering him, she walked up to him quietly and joined put her hands on her hips.
"Well, aren't you coming, Football Boy?" she jeered, hovering over Arnold. Helga temporarily dropped her façade when she saw that Arnold was not responding in his usual way to her tormenting. She sat on the rock above him and glared at him. "Are you okay, Arnold?" she asked, concern marking her brow.
Arnold, not seeming to catch this, got up from his place in the sand and walked slowly toward the dock where the rest of the gang was waiting. "I'm just a little bit disappointed, Helga. I mean, its not like I actually expected to find a pot of gold or something, but I expected to find something better. I don't think anybody gets that," Arnold said, speeding up his pace and leaving Helga behind. Helga sighed, as if silently going through her "Oh, Arnold," routine in her head, before running to catch up with the other kids. The all got in the boat, and sat for a while, looking from one face to the other. Helga, rolling her eyes, finally spoke up.
"Well!"
"Oh, oh yeah, cut!" Arnold said, suddenly snapping out of the moment. With that, all of the kids loosened up, and the murmur of conversation began.
"Jeez, Arnold, you'd thing if you had a part as important as director, you would remember what you were supposed to do," Helga said as Peapod Kid dismantled the camera and put it in the boat.
Arnold sighed. "Well, Helga, Mr. Simmons just gave the role to me a few days ago, and I'm not used to it yet."
"And I'm glad about it!" Gerald exclaimed, leaning back in the boat. "At least it isn't Helga calling all the shots," he said comfortably.
Helga raised her eyebrow. "Oh yeah, Geraldo, you wanna come and say that to my face?" Helga snarled.
Gerald took the challenge. "Gladly. I said, at least it isn't Helga, that's you, calling all the shots."
Helga was indignant. "Oh yeah, well what do you call this one?" she said, raising her fist to Gerald's chin.
"Arg, I've got the feelin' ye'd be getting' restless. Why don' we sing a song on the way home?" Earl suggested as the boat traveled along.
Arnold interjected. "Yeah, and how about not."
* * * * * *
After the filming for the day was over and Arnold and Gerald returned from the dinners, they walked under a dusky sky. Gerald was bouncing his slightly deflated basketball on the sidewalk as they walked. "I'm telling you, Arnold, if I have to work another day under Helga G. Pataki, I'm liable to go nuts! She drives me crazy, Arnold!" Gerald exclaimed as Monkeyman passed them, running from a dog. "And you know how cool I usually am about these things. If anyone knows, you know."
Arnold sighed. "I know, Gerald, but sometimes…I don't know."
"What! What do you mean 'I don't know?' Yeah, I'm cool all the time, and don't you forget it," Gerald said, stopping dribbling his basketball.
Arnold shook his head. "No, it's not that. I'm talking about the way Helga acts."
"Aww, man, don't worry about Helga. Worry about us, how we're going to deal with her for the next few days," Gerald said, as they stopped at an ice cream stand to get some ice cream.
"I mean, I've gotten so used to Helga bugging me, me at least, that I've come almost to accept it, you know?" Arnold admitted. "It's so much easier not to get mad at her and just accept that as how she acts. I don't know, sometimes I think that if she acted any other way than she does, I wouldn't know how to take it."
Gerald chuckled curtly. "Well, I would…hallelujah! That's what I would say," Gerald said. He and Arnold laughed. "But seriously, Arnold, with you now as director, you realize that you can do anything you want with this, right? You can put Helga in check…not permanently, but at least while we're stuck doing this project. I mean, essentially you could say the word, and give Helga the boot!"
Arnold's eyes lit up. "You know, you're right, Gerald."
Gerald smiled. "I know I am. So, when are you booting her out?"
"I'm not 'booting her out,' Gerald. I'm just going to talk to her, see if we can't get our differences worked out or something," Arnold said, as the two took their ice creams and headed back in the direction of Sunset Arms.
"You're a bold kid, Arnold. A boooold kid."
"That was a long one."
"Yeah, well, I felt you were deserving."
At least two more parts to go! R&R, tenks. :-]
