Wheee! Chapter 3!! Okay, um yes! Chapter 3, um I was supposed to say something…I can't quite remem- oh yeah! I am working on a one-shot, coming out sometime soon, because I have 2 weeks (15 days) of WINTER VACATION!!!!! Whoo-hoo! Um, it's supposed to be right after Olga's engagement (OLGA GETS ENGAGED) and I just wanna explore that whole dynamic, ya know Arnold helping Helga through her harder times and whatnot. Yeah, Yeah, that's about all. Here is my sorry attempt at a Chapter! Okay, here we go: "Overbooked??!!"
Oh yeah, I've forgotten this for every chapter, I don't own Hey Arnold, I own nothing!!!
Arnold eventually made it up to his room, despite his extreme exhaustion. The woman at the hotel desk took her own sweet time finding his key, while smacking her gum much too loudly and saying every three seconds, "One minute, hun", in her thick New York accent.
Arnold was too tired and way too lazy to turn on the lights and take a good long look at the beautiful room he was blessed to be staying in. He instead, merely turned on the bathroom light, allowing it to illuminate the rest of the room. Inside the bathroom were the normal bathroom commodities, lotion, shampoo, soap, drinking glasses, and the like. But the unusual item found neatly arranged farther down the counter were three bottles, shampoo, conditioner and body wash, all cucumber melon scented. Arnold never really stopped to think about them much, maybe the maids forgot it, or maybe it'd been put there as it was supposed to be. Arnold decided then to shower, and get in bed before he passed out from sheer exhaustion. He threw off his shirt and tossed it on the rather large queen sized bed in the center of the living area. Looking out, he noticed the crumpled comforter that his white T-shirt laid on. Again, he gave blame to the maids. He returned to the bathroom, and ran water into the tub, in preparation for his shower.
*~*~*~*~*Frustrated-while( I should have a new one each chapter!)
'What if he has a knife? What if he has a gun? Maybe he'll just rob me and leave…yeah right. He'd probably hack me to death so no one will be able to turn him in. What if I get kidnapped!!! No, Helga don't think like that, think of how to get outta here. He's practically LIVING in that bathroom, so getting out through the door is impossible. We are on the third floor, I could jump out the window. Please, you'd never jump out of a window!…'
All these thoughts flooded Helga's mind as she waited in the dark for who ever this was to reveal himself. She'd already figured "it" was a "he" by many of "his" actions in the room so far. First of all, he didn't even bother to turn on the light. He's using the bathroom light to light up the rest of the room which is clearly three or four times as big. Helga practically had a heart attack when she felt something drape itself across her butt. Turning her head slowly and looked to see what or quite possibly who it could have been. Thank goodness, it was a what, not a who. A plain white T-shirt, thrown lazily on top of the bed…and her. Not a minute later she heard water running. Yes! This was her chance to get out of the room, go to Phoebe's, and call the police. She stood, slowly, in case he decided to emerge. She walked to the other side of the bed and towards the door, until the shower turned off.
Helga panicked. She started towards the door, but figured he'd catch her in the hall and leave her strangled body there. Then she headed back to the bed, in an attempt to crawl under it, but wasn't able to get under. She eventually slipped back under the covers, again buried under them. She heard the door creak open, and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Man, there's like no hot water." Arnold said, stepping out of the bathroom, in boxers and a towel. Being the guy that he was, he decided, since he was a lone in the room (snicker, snicker), he could sleep in any thing he wanted to, which in this case, was near nothing.
For some inane reason, Arnold decided then to actually flip the switch and look around, conveniently avoiding the left side of the bed. He eventually got bored, turned off all the lights, and climbed on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers. He was hot already, anyway…
I'm trapped, trapped with a possible hit man waiting until I fall asleep so he can murder me and carry my severed head around in Tupperware so it doesn't ferment or boil or collect flies. Wait, maybe I'm just hallucinating the whole thing. Maybe he has no idea I'm even in here. Maybe…oh Lord…
Arnold, in his sleep, had in turn rolled over. His arm was now draped across the bed, his hand over the edge of the bed. He slightly groaned, shuffling around a bit, but not moving much.
"Okay, buddy, I don't know who you are, but I have a gun, and trust me I never miss!!" Helga said, jumping up off of the bed, threatening loudly in the dark.
"Wha' ?? What's going on?", Arnold said, sitting up in bed, looking at the silhouette of a woman standing across the bed form him.
"Get out!! Get out, right now!!!!", she screamed, not realizing what time it was or if the people in the neighboring rooms could hear her.
"Wait, wait. Hold on, I'm sure we can talk this out, just don't shoot me, okay?"
"Look bucko, the only thing we need to talk about is why your in my room, and why your not out yet!", She said, her hands still posed as a gun, hoping he'd think it was real, and would in turn, leave.
'Bucko?', Arnold thought, quietly in the darkness. "Helga?"
"Okay, you're a stalker, AND a hit man? Alright, I'm calling the police."
"Helga, it's me, Arnold. I'm not a hit man, or a stalker or anything-"
By this time, Helga had walked to the light switch and flipped it upward, revealing the truth of the situation, it was Arnold.
"What are you doing here? What are you doing in my room??"
"I'm…this is…what do you mean your room?", Arnold said standing up.
At this angle, and in the light, he could clearly identify Helga, and her unique choice of sleepwear. She'd decided to don her self for sleep in a black tank top, and large pajama pants. To him, she wasn't badly shaped for her attire.
"Yeah, if you could direct your drooling gaze northward, that'd be perfect.", She said, finally getting a smidge of his attention. She wasn't one to say much, being as she had to restrain her gazes form Arnold's half naked body. "Now as I was saying, I went to the front desk this afternoon, and this is the key they gave me.", she said taking her key off of the T.V. "So, therefore this is MY room.", she said, taking a seat on the bed, marking it as her own as well.
"Well, I was at the front desk an hour ago, and they gave me this key, to this room, making it mine." He said.
"Well, it can't possibly be both of our rooms, now can it?", Helga said, defiantly.
"No, but-", Arnold began. He was interrupted by Helga racing to the door and shutting it behind her. He immediately sped to the door, grabbing his old white T-shirt and raced out the door. Hoping to get to the front desk before her, he ran to the elevators, and hoped in one just as it was closing.
Exiting the elevator, he saw Helga leaning over the edge of the front desk, looking rather angrily at the man standing behind it. He pointed to the room directly behind him, the seats and floor filled with their classmates, chaperone and what looked like some guy in a bell hop costume. Passing by him and walking into the sitting area, Helga said, "Stairs are always faster."
Their chaperone explained, with little help from the bellhop guy, that the hotel had overbooked, so everyone had to find someone to bunk up with if they'd been paired up with a guest outside the trip. Unfortunately, if you'd already been "stuck" with someone (Much like our favorite blondes), there was no way to switch with anyone else, and changing hotels would not only be costly but slightly ludicrous. Yes, it seems they were stuck.
Back in the hotel, Arnold and Helga tried to come to some kind of a compromise. They were pretty good friends since about the 7th grade, when Helga dropped her obsession and loosened up a bit. But, like they (or just my mom) say, old crushes die hard. The crush was still there, it probably always would be, but the obsession itself was essentially gone. Which turned out to be a good thing. She became an all around nicer (Hey, I said nicer, not necessarily NICE) person. She'd gone out for near everything in high school (except cheerleading, and boy's lacrosse. She thought the uniforms made her look fat). And best of all, she had found a friend in a former enemy, Arnold.
"Look Arnold, it looks like we're going to be stuck together for a long time, so we'd better try and make peace.", Helga said, resuming her seat on the bed.
"I completely agree." Arnold said, trying to sound agreeable.
"First, a couple of ground rules. One, we will not use each other's property without asking, okay?", Helga said, making sure each rule was acceptable to both parties.
"Um, have you used the bathroom at all today?", Arnold asked.
"Yeah, so what?", Helga said, not seeing the nervous look on his face.
"Um, nothing. Rule two?", He said, quickly.
"Okay, Rule two…um, no going through each other's things.", Helga said.
"Doesn't that go along with Rule One?", Arnold asked, unknowingly bringing the conversation back to the rule he'd already broken.
"Fine, the real Rule Two is no guests without prior knowledge given to the other party. So basically, don't bring any one in here without telling me first and vice-versa."
"Are you done, Madam Napolean?", Arnold asked, now tired of listening to her.
"Napolean's wife was named Josephine, the first one anyway. And no, we have one more thing to discuss. The bed.", she said, assuming he'd understand what she meant.
"Yes. Yes, it is a very nice bed." he said, obviously confused.
"Yeah, great bed, who gets it?", she said, massaging the bridge of her nose.
"Um, we'll flip for it or something.", Arnold said, eager to get this over with.
Helga dug through her bag and pulled out a quarter. "Call it in the air."
"Heads"
Sigh. "Heads"
"No, no. I don't feel comfortable taking the bed, you take it.", Arnold said.
"No, you called heads, it landed on heads. Take the bed.", Helga said, beginning to argue.
"But are you sure?"
"Yes I am sure. Now go to sleep." She'd already gone to the closet and lifted out the extra blanket , and had begun arranging her bed on the floor. "Goodnight." she said, turning off the lights.
"I just don't feel comfortable. I mean, I'm the guy and I'm supposed to be the man and me taking the bed from the woman would not only be unethical, but wrong. Sick and wrong."
"Well unless you're hiding something from me, you are a man. And rest assured, you have nothing to prove to me.", Helga said, turning over.
"Really? You really mean that?", Arnold said. He and Helga had been friends for quite a while now, but it was a rare commodity that she'd say something so honest and decent.
"Yes, I really do. And frankly, if you were to give up that bed, and I take it, I'd look like the whiny girl that takes advantage of the guy who thinks he has to be macho. So, ya see, we're all stuck in trying predicaments.", She said, sitting up.
"I didn't know that. Well, I've got an idea that possibly solve each of our problems. We can share the bed."
Helga sat up, resting her head on the bed. "As tempting as that sounds, oh and believe me it's tempting, I don't think I'd feel comfortable."
"Oh, c'mon don't flatter yourself. I'll sleep on top of the covers and you'll sleep under them. No physical contact at all, I promise.", Arnold said.
"Promise?", Helga said. The idea was solid enough, but there were a few shaky ends to loosen up. "Fine.", she said sitting on the very edge of the bed until he positioned himself on top of the comforters. She slid under the covers, more than a little unsure about the whole situation. She was lying in a bed, in a hotel, at age 18, with a guy she's practically worshipped since age 3, miles away from any sort of parental supervision…the whole thing itself was a accident waiting to happen.
"Goodnight Helga."
" 'Night Arnold."
So here we have Arnold, a young healthy man of 18, in bed, in his boxers, with a not half bad looking girl, not that he thought of her that way, in a hotel, far from home…
"What were you thinking?", he thought.
"Number Three."
"What do you mean?", Arnold said.
"Rule Number Three.", Helga whispered.
"Well what is it?", Arnold whispered back.
"Rule Number Three, no groping me in the night and then saying you had a bad dream."
"That should go double for you."
"Shut up."
"Good night."
~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Man, I'm tired. It's like 8:49 PM and I'm ready to sleep! What's up with that? Okay, review please, it makes my insides giggle. I hope the beginning wasn't too boring, or mixed up or stupid. Because if it is, feel free to tell me. Just try not to be too mean, cuz it makes my insides cry so much, all the water I drink gets pushed up to my head, and leaks up out of my eyes. Really, no joke! It happened, like Tuesday, and then again on Friday. On Tuesday, my friend was singing this really pretty song, and it happened, and on Friday, my friend let listen to this really sad song (There not the same person). So I guess I cry easily…that was way more than you wanted to know, so fell freer to skip this part altogether. BYE!!!!