Author's Note: Second chapter, is up! It's kinda short... unfortunately.
Legal junk: I don't own Hey Arnold, but Nickelodeon does and Mr. Craig Bartlett created it. But this fic belongs to me. Clear? Good.
Chapter 2: Curly's big secret
A couple of days later…
On the other side of the city, particularly inside a well preserved two-story high urban row house, Curly's house to be precise, there was Stinky, Sid, Harold and of course, Curly himself. He had invited Stinky (and two other classmates, but they have not arrived yet) to his house to have a discussion about the project that was given to them earlier in school, while the other two were just tagging along. They walked in and took a look around the house because it had been quite some time since the last time they were there. As they looked around the house, Stinky noticed something on the fireplace that caught his eye. Stinky was the tallest among the gang, a skyscraper to put it mildly, grew a long hair and a thin moustache. Sid went into the skater look nowadays, and Harold was huskier and portlier but less overweight than he was in fourth grade, being the team leader of the school's wrestling team and all.
"Damn Curly, suffice it to say your house has changed a lot since the last time I was here. I ain't remember that particular classy lookin' picture on that fireplace. Since when did you have it?"
"Oh, that picture is nothing. That's only the half of it. You guys wanna see the really cool thing about that picture?"
The three boys nodded in agreement, eager to find out what it was actually about. Curly released a wide grin across his face. He then ventured to the garage and took a stool from it, and carried it back to the living room. His friends just watched his activities, impatiently waiting for Curly to reveal the secret. He then lifted the picture up, revealing a safe deposit box.
"Awesome!" Sid exclaimed. "A little clichéd, yet absolutely brilliant!"
"And that's not all!" Curly said to them joyfully, eager to show them the item he wanted to divulge. After cracking his knuckles, he spun the combination numbers, and the safe opened. Inside, it was gun. He took it out and pointed it to Harold.
Harold panicked, stretching his hands out, "P-Please Curly, don't kill me! I don't wanna die! PLEASE, MOMMY WHERE ARE YOU?!"
"He, he. Relax Harold. I have the safety pin on. And the gun itself has no bullets in it, see?" he opened and showed the bullet casing to Harold.
"Oh, well that's okay… I guess…" he replied nervously.
"Hey, how do you know the combination to that safe?" Sid interjected, "All my life I tried to figure out how to open my pop's safe, but none of my plans work – and I'm running out of options! But you, you my friend accomplished something that I've been meaning to do all these years. How do you do it?"
"Why Sid, I am shocked!" he replied sarcastically, "the legendary troublemaker is having a trouble with something so effortless? For shame Sid! For shame!"
"Yes! It is true! Oh, tell me your secret The Great One!" Sid pleaded jokingly.
"Have you tried to frequently observe your father when he opened that safe of his? Look closely at combination numbers as he spins it, and try to remember the combination."
"Well, that was pretty freaking obvious… but hey, I'll give it a try."
Stinky came forward, extended his hand out and Curly gave him the gun. He checked the barrel, the ammo slot, cocked it up and used his two hands to hold it and pointed at the ceiling above.
"Well I'll be damned, ain't this a .357 six-shooter Magnum gun Curly?" Stinky asked in amazement. "My grandpa used to have one back in Arkansas in his gun collection. He's a NRA member you know." He said as he gave the weapon back to Curly.
"Indeed it is Stinky. Dad uses it to protect the Laundromat and himself from crooks."
"It must be awesome to have a gun in the house. Do you like, go to a shooting range somewhere and shoot at ducks all day?" Sid inquired.
"Well, my dad does. But I go paintballing since my dad feel I'm not responsible enough to hold a real gun. 'Sides, isn't it illegal or something to have a minor holding a gun?"
"And your dad shoots ducks all day?" Sid echoed back his question enthusiastically.
Curly just snickered at him, "Aw, no Sid. Just some lifeless projectiles, that's all."
"Well, even though I'm a gun enthusiast myself I feel it's not necessary to have a gun to protect yourself."
"To each own's opinion, Stinky. Well, enough chatter gentlemen. Let's go to my room." And with that all three of them followed Curly upstairs to his room, amazingly clean for a teenage boy. There were posters of animals hanging on the walls, and books about animals were being kept tidily on a shelf near the window. Among the books there are books about Shakespeare's plays, sonnets and literally journals. The closet's door had a big sign that says "keep out, or you will get owned." None of those surprised the visitors, considering they had already known Curly's uncanny obsession for animals and classic literature. But, why the heck did he have a dresser since he already have a closet? The question didn't succeed to elude Harold's mind.
"If it wasn't for this stupid project I'd be at the skate park right about now." Sid moaned, "Chillin' with buds, smoke a cigarette or two…" he said to himself.
"Yeah, and drag us down to a D again? Hell no." Stinky opposed.
"Chill out, man. Just playin' with ya." He grinned.
Stinky rolled his eyes, and turned to Curly, "Thanks again for lettin' us using your room, Curly. I reckon we should wait awhile, on account that the other fellers are not here yet."
"Oh yeah, sure, I'm cool with that. And while we wait, would you gentlemen like some refreshments?" Curly offered.
"Yeah, why not? My throat is just as dry as the desert!" Harold said.
"Coming right up!" And he disappeared from his room. Stinky was still standing when Sid took a sit on Curly's bed as they exchanged idle conversation, mostly about their female friends' looks, how nice their behinds are, and chest size. Harold was uninterested to partake in the conversation, since his throat was too dry to let himself participate in it, and he was thinking to commit some mischief, particularly on the closet. He finally hatched up a devilish idea, and a grin begins to spread across his face. He quickly ran over to Curly's closet and opened it up.
"Harold, aren't you a little bit too old to be rummaging through other people's closet? You're not respecting Curly's privacy you know." Sid said, trying to talk some sense to him.
"Yeah, I's think it ain't wise." Stinky echoed Sid's sentiment.
But Harold didn't respond at all. He stopped, his jaw was dropped to the floor and had his eyes widened while still staring at whatever inside the closet.
"Harold? Dude, what are you staring at? What's so f'ing interesting about his closet?" Sid asked.
Stinky made a wild guess, "I reckon it's that stuffed goat that I gave to him sometime ago."
"It ain't no goat, Stinky… it's much bigger… and scarier than that…" Harold finally responded. Sid and Stinky exchanged quizzical glances at each other and in reluctance, they proceeded over towards Harold. To their surprise, Curly's closet was a treasure trove of all things Rhonda.
"Holy…of all things… holy…"
"Oh. My God… Now that's an unhealthy obsession if y'all asked me…"
"Man… and I thought his love for animals was bad…"
Sid, Stinky and Harold said incredulously. Various pictures of Rhonda since the fourth grade (walking, talking, running, playing, sitting, studying, eating, lying, sunbathing, and among other things) from every angle and in every size were sticking on the walls of his closet. In the middle of the closet, the crème de la crème of the shrine, a framed picture of a most recent her was put on a crate, with colorful artificial flowers scattered and potpourris were put around the picture of a lovely close-up of her face. Snippets of her clothes and hair locks were also lying on the floor, with scented candles burning on each side of the corner. It looks like Curly had emptied his closet to store objects that more or less connected to his love of his life, Rhonda. The three boys were freaked out at their friend's abnormal obsession, judging from all the effort that Curly took to make that shrine. They had always knew that he harbored feelings for her, but having a shrine of her? That was too much for them to handle.
"Th-th-the psycho is a freaking stalker!!" Harold abruptly accused, pointing his finger at the shrine.
"What should we do guys? WHAT should we do?!" Sid started to panic. "Should we tell Rhonda?! Should we tell Arnold?!"
"Now, now. Y'all calm down now, ya hear? There's must be a logical explanation behind all this… aw hell who am I kidding? That guy is mad!" and then Stinky began to panic himself, as he clutches his head, pulling his hair out.
"Hey guys, I'm back with the drinks!" Curly shouted from below.
"He's coming! Close the closet! Close it! CLOSE IT!!" Harold shouted with a lowered voice in a panicky manner. The three of them slammed the door together, but unfortunately Harold stepped on something, a CD case, or a cloth maybe, causing all of them to fall down onto the floor like a domino, piling on top of each other. Curly opened the door to his room, and saw his friends in a very suspicious/provocative behavior/position.
"Uhh… what are you guys doing?" Curly asked, puzzled.
"We… are… uh… wrestling… Yeah, that's it. We are wrestling. Right guys?" Harold stammered, as he pulls Sid into a headlock.
"Ack! Yeah, yeah. We're wrestling. It's a healthy exercise you know. Heh-heh," Sid said brokenly with a pitiful laugh. "Harold, not so hard, I can barely breathe…" he said to Harold under his breath.
Curly went silent. "… Uh-huh… You guys are weird."
"Well, look who's talking," Stinky said back, and Harold landed a slap at the back of his head.
"OW! Hey! Why'd you do that for?"
"Shut up, Stinky. Just shut up!" Harold muttered exasperatedly through his clenching teeth.
The next chapter will be about Rhonda snaps, so don't miss it! Read it and give it a review, please!