***Thanks again to all the nice people in review land, I really do
appreciate your support and critiques. This story is very close to the end,
with no new ideas in sight, at least for now. Enjoy!***
Chapter 22 Sweet Revenge
Helga's mind was a twisted metal trap, snapping up ideas like popcorn as her best friend doggedly scribbled each one into her normally neat and organized notebook.
"And lastly, we'll need to make sure they know to NEVER mess with me, Helga G. Pataki, ever again," Helga smirked evilly, her face freshly scrubbed. She paced the length of her pink and white bedroom like a madman, interweaving the soiled blue hanky of Arnold's in her hands.
"Making sure," Phoebe breathed, jotting the last of Helga's previous remarks. "What do you have in mind?"
"Oh I have an idea, make no mistake of that," Helga confided, flipping the thick white towel off of her mop of wet hair. "I don't think we should write it down, though, for safety's sake," Helga chuckled, squeezing the last few drops of water from her shoulder length blonde hair.
Phoebe wrung her hands anxiously. "Excuse me, but does whatever you have planned involve actions that might possibly cause my untimely incarceration, or at the very least go on my permanent record?"
"Just like the Navy says, Pheebs," Helga retorted, brushing her pal golden locks ominously. "Don't ask, don't tell,"
Robert Simmons laid his dog eared copy of Catcher in the Rye on top of the end table nearest to his favorite chair. He rubbed his eyes gingerly, removing his reading glasses as he did so. It had been a quiet and uneventful Sunday. He had spent the day working in his garden, which produced the last of the season's squash and pumpkins, then re-read most of his favorite book in his spare time after dinner. The world was at peace inside his miniscule 2 bedroom bungalow.
The phone ringing jangled his nerves, snapping him out of his silent reverie.
"Hello, this is Robert," he spoke into the receiver, the smile on his face audible in his upbeat tone.
"Simmons, listen hard and listen good," came a low, monotone voice over the other end. "I am only going to say this once. You have a cheater in your class," the voice droned.
Mr. Simmons frowned vaguely. "I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about. Who is this?"
"Let's just say, a friend. Check Helga Pataki's English Lit notebook. You will find your answers there,"
A soft click on the other end signaled the end of the conversation.
"Helga Pataki, a cheater? I hardly think so," the dazed instructor spoke his obvious doubts aloud. His faithful beagle, Daisy, cocked her head sideways in what looked like agreement.
He patted the dog's head absentmindedly, his mind churning. Suddenly, it occurred to him how to figure out who was behind this.
He picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers, cradling the receiver in his neck as he grabbed a pencil. Seconds later, he was dialing the number he had just jotted down.
After the customary 3 rings, the voicemail to the telephone line picked up.
"You have reached the-"
"Berkowitzes, eh? I think I remember that name," Grandpa extolled as he helped his grandson dry the dishes. "Went to school with a Charlie Berkowitz as a matter of fact,"
"I don't know if that's any relation to the one I know, but he's a pretty awful kid," Arnold retorted, swiping the dishcloth with renewed venom.
"Well, I hate to break it to you, Shortman, but kids can be cruel,"
"He wasn't just cruel. He said things, things about Grandma,"
"I'm sure she's heard worse," Grandpa smirked.
"And he said some REALLY bad things about...about Helga," Arnold felt his face blanch once more at the mere mention of her name.
Grandpa smiled softly, knowing full well the reason for the rosy glow gracing the face of his grandson. He sensibly chose to overlook the obvious for the moment.
"You know what? I actually think Pinky's probably heard worse too, and from better company at that," he patted Arnold's shoulder in reassurance. "Knowing you and your do –the –right-thing- attitude, I'm sure you stuck up for her, am I right?" "Yeah, I did," Arnold rubbed his sore palm carefully against the other. "I uh, slapped him," He shrunk back a little at his own words, remembering the moment in slow motion clarity.
"SLAPPED HIM? Arnold, are you out of your ever loving gourd?" Grandpa smacked a weathered hand against his bald head. "You know violence never solves anything!"
"I know, I know," Arnold lamented regretfully. "It was more of an automatic reaction than anything. I feel really bad,"
"Well what did he say to make someone as rational as you snap like that?" Grandpa sputtered, his voice dripping with trepidation.
Arnold turned scarlet again, but this time from raw fury. "He called her third class white trash," he murmured in disgust. "That was just totally uncalled for,"
"It certainly was," Grandpa agreed, "but nonetheless, I hope you've learned to use your words and not your hands in the future,"
"My words?" Arnold replied in uncertainty.
"Yeah, next time THREATEN to lambaste him one, psych him out a bit, you know the routine,"
"And if he takes me up on the offer?" Arnold smirked incredulously.
Grandpa paused, stacking the last of the dried dishes into the cupboard before answering.
"THEN you put his lights out," he chortled, nudging Arnold slyly.
Lila Sawyer finished the poem she had just written, her eyes glittering with delight. One last going over and she tucked it safely into her English Lit notebook. She sighed despondently as she recalled the day's events and how nothing had gone according to plan. That was all about to change, however, as she had formulated the perfect way to get her man AND keep Helga Pataki from knocking her into next Tuesday. Blackmail was a perfect form of revenge, she thought with a poisonous grin.
She snatched up the parcel of tissue paper that was nestled in her unmentionables drawer, a little something she had literally and figuratively "picked up" a few hours ago.
This was the answer to her catch-22. One look at this and not only would her prince charming come running back to her, but her rival would have to admit defeat as well.
"Tomorrow morning," Lila whispered deviously, "my plan goes into action, and all my dreams come true,"
Helga smiled in satisfaction as Phoebe left, faithful notebook tucked protectively under her tiny arm as her father picked her up in front of the three story blue building.
She knew what she had done and what was planned to be done would have consequences, dire perhaps in nature. It was of no matter to her at this point. Her reputation and her chances with Arnold were on the proverbial line, and no one was going to take either away from her.
Barney was behind this, and she was sure Miss Lila was no more innocent than him. As soon as she was done disposing of her nemesis's, she could finally confront Arnold about the switch that took place between them...and the feelings that could no longer be denied.
"He wouldn't listen to me on the roof of the FTi building," she murmured, cracking her latest pink journal open to the first fresh clean sheet. "This time around, he'll have no choice. I'll make him listen, no matter what his reaction is. Maybe we can find out what caused this whole personality swap thing and why it happened in the first place,"
Across town, a lone figure sat in the early evening darkness, their breath being the only sound in the tiny bedroom they shared with their little brother.
This person knew all about the situation between a certain football headed do-gooder and a brash but kind hearted bully.
Tomorrow, they would end their silence. Tomorrow, the truth would be known.
******************And maybe....if you are all very nice to me, TOMORROW I WILL UPDATE!!! MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!Okay, so you don't have to be nice to me, I will still update as soon as I can. Two chapters to the finale!*****************
Chapter 22 Sweet Revenge
Helga's mind was a twisted metal trap, snapping up ideas like popcorn as her best friend doggedly scribbled each one into her normally neat and organized notebook.
"And lastly, we'll need to make sure they know to NEVER mess with me, Helga G. Pataki, ever again," Helga smirked evilly, her face freshly scrubbed. She paced the length of her pink and white bedroom like a madman, interweaving the soiled blue hanky of Arnold's in her hands.
"Making sure," Phoebe breathed, jotting the last of Helga's previous remarks. "What do you have in mind?"
"Oh I have an idea, make no mistake of that," Helga confided, flipping the thick white towel off of her mop of wet hair. "I don't think we should write it down, though, for safety's sake," Helga chuckled, squeezing the last few drops of water from her shoulder length blonde hair.
Phoebe wrung her hands anxiously. "Excuse me, but does whatever you have planned involve actions that might possibly cause my untimely incarceration, or at the very least go on my permanent record?"
"Just like the Navy says, Pheebs," Helga retorted, brushing her pal golden locks ominously. "Don't ask, don't tell,"
Robert Simmons laid his dog eared copy of Catcher in the Rye on top of the end table nearest to his favorite chair. He rubbed his eyes gingerly, removing his reading glasses as he did so. It had been a quiet and uneventful Sunday. He had spent the day working in his garden, which produced the last of the season's squash and pumpkins, then re-read most of his favorite book in his spare time after dinner. The world was at peace inside his miniscule 2 bedroom bungalow.
The phone ringing jangled his nerves, snapping him out of his silent reverie.
"Hello, this is Robert," he spoke into the receiver, the smile on his face audible in his upbeat tone.
"Simmons, listen hard and listen good," came a low, monotone voice over the other end. "I am only going to say this once. You have a cheater in your class," the voice droned.
Mr. Simmons frowned vaguely. "I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about. Who is this?"
"Let's just say, a friend. Check Helga Pataki's English Lit notebook. You will find your answers there,"
A soft click on the other end signaled the end of the conversation.
"Helga Pataki, a cheater? I hardly think so," the dazed instructor spoke his obvious doubts aloud. His faithful beagle, Daisy, cocked her head sideways in what looked like agreement.
He patted the dog's head absentmindedly, his mind churning. Suddenly, it occurred to him how to figure out who was behind this.
He picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers, cradling the receiver in his neck as he grabbed a pencil. Seconds later, he was dialing the number he had just jotted down.
After the customary 3 rings, the voicemail to the telephone line picked up.
"You have reached the-"
"Berkowitzes, eh? I think I remember that name," Grandpa extolled as he helped his grandson dry the dishes. "Went to school with a Charlie Berkowitz as a matter of fact,"
"I don't know if that's any relation to the one I know, but he's a pretty awful kid," Arnold retorted, swiping the dishcloth with renewed venom.
"Well, I hate to break it to you, Shortman, but kids can be cruel,"
"He wasn't just cruel. He said things, things about Grandma,"
"I'm sure she's heard worse," Grandpa smirked.
"And he said some REALLY bad things about...about Helga," Arnold felt his face blanch once more at the mere mention of her name.
Grandpa smiled softly, knowing full well the reason for the rosy glow gracing the face of his grandson. He sensibly chose to overlook the obvious for the moment.
"You know what? I actually think Pinky's probably heard worse too, and from better company at that," he patted Arnold's shoulder in reassurance. "Knowing you and your do –the –right-thing- attitude, I'm sure you stuck up for her, am I right?" "Yeah, I did," Arnold rubbed his sore palm carefully against the other. "I uh, slapped him," He shrunk back a little at his own words, remembering the moment in slow motion clarity.
"SLAPPED HIM? Arnold, are you out of your ever loving gourd?" Grandpa smacked a weathered hand against his bald head. "You know violence never solves anything!"
"I know, I know," Arnold lamented regretfully. "It was more of an automatic reaction than anything. I feel really bad,"
"Well what did he say to make someone as rational as you snap like that?" Grandpa sputtered, his voice dripping with trepidation.
Arnold turned scarlet again, but this time from raw fury. "He called her third class white trash," he murmured in disgust. "That was just totally uncalled for,"
"It certainly was," Grandpa agreed, "but nonetheless, I hope you've learned to use your words and not your hands in the future,"
"My words?" Arnold replied in uncertainty.
"Yeah, next time THREATEN to lambaste him one, psych him out a bit, you know the routine,"
"And if he takes me up on the offer?" Arnold smirked incredulously.
Grandpa paused, stacking the last of the dried dishes into the cupboard before answering.
"THEN you put his lights out," he chortled, nudging Arnold slyly.
Lila Sawyer finished the poem she had just written, her eyes glittering with delight. One last going over and she tucked it safely into her English Lit notebook. She sighed despondently as she recalled the day's events and how nothing had gone according to plan. That was all about to change, however, as she had formulated the perfect way to get her man AND keep Helga Pataki from knocking her into next Tuesday. Blackmail was a perfect form of revenge, she thought with a poisonous grin.
She snatched up the parcel of tissue paper that was nestled in her unmentionables drawer, a little something she had literally and figuratively "picked up" a few hours ago.
This was the answer to her catch-22. One look at this and not only would her prince charming come running back to her, but her rival would have to admit defeat as well.
"Tomorrow morning," Lila whispered deviously, "my plan goes into action, and all my dreams come true,"
Helga smiled in satisfaction as Phoebe left, faithful notebook tucked protectively under her tiny arm as her father picked her up in front of the three story blue building.
She knew what she had done and what was planned to be done would have consequences, dire perhaps in nature. It was of no matter to her at this point. Her reputation and her chances with Arnold were on the proverbial line, and no one was going to take either away from her.
Barney was behind this, and she was sure Miss Lila was no more innocent than him. As soon as she was done disposing of her nemesis's, she could finally confront Arnold about the switch that took place between them...and the feelings that could no longer be denied.
"He wouldn't listen to me on the roof of the FTi building," she murmured, cracking her latest pink journal open to the first fresh clean sheet. "This time around, he'll have no choice. I'll make him listen, no matter what his reaction is. Maybe we can find out what caused this whole personality swap thing and why it happened in the first place,"
Across town, a lone figure sat in the early evening darkness, their breath being the only sound in the tiny bedroom they shared with their little brother.
This person knew all about the situation between a certain football headed do-gooder and a brash but kind hearted bully.
Tomorrow, they would end their silence. Tomorrow, the truth would be known.
******************And maybe....if you are all very nice to me, TOMORROW I WILL UPDATE!!! MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!Okay, so you don't have to be nice to me, I will still update as soon as I can. Two chapters to the finale!*****************