Hello all! I'm back with chapter eleven. Anyhoo, this is one of my better chapters (I think). Oh and one little thing I have to clear up before I start…
Note: This message is for one oh so special reviewer, but if you would like to read it anyway, feel free to.
First of all you know who you are, and I know who you are and I know you know I know who you are. So, just in case it hasn't gotten through your thick skull, I DO NOT ACCEPT FLAMERS. Needless to say, I had some choice words for you (Ask DarthRoden and Jae B) but I'm controlling myself. But, if I do get another flamer, from you, I will not hold back, and you will feel my worded wrath. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold
Chapter Eleven: Miss America
'How did I get here? How did I get here? How did I get here…'
Helga recalled the question over in her head until she forgot what it meant. With her amount of alcohol, over a hundred crazed partygoers, and a few too many strobe lights. In her state of mind, this was the last place she needed be. But what she did need was to get away from Arnold. But not like this…not here.
"I'm getting up now…"
It was so much fun egging him on. All she had to do was drape one foot over the side of the bed and he would go crazy. Every time it looked like she was leaving her "asylum", he'd freak out and go into Over Protective Dad mode.
(A/N: I should know…)
"Why on earth are you so eager to get up and move around? Most people would love to stay in bed all day and do nothing.", Arnold replied, searching the T.V. for something worth watching. The hotel provided them with 4 movie channels, none of which had anything good on.
Sure, plenty of people would love to do nothing for an entire day. Plenty of people would be absolutely ecstatic to lie around and do absolutely nothing for as long as they liked. But to someone who'd waited for months and saved up for twice as long to go on this trip, only to be poisoned by a fruit, and bedridden for two days, such a "privilege" was obviously not appreciated.
"I don't want to do nothing all day. This is boring, I hate it!", she complained from the edge of her bed. After 18 years of being brutally ignored, she could turn from civilized teenager to whiney brat in a matter of seconds.
"Give it another hour or so. You'll be fine.", he said, putting on a coat, and slipping the hotel room key in his pocket. This evidently didn't go unrecognized by Helga.
"Where are you going?", she asked firmly, emphasizing the "you", especially since she was not allowed to leave her 4 by 8 foot prison, and he could run around wherever he wanted.
"I'm just going out to pick up some stuff. Ya hungry?"
How could he be so non-chalant about this? She had to stay confined to a bed, and he was free to "pick up some stuff". Without replying, she made her way to the closet, where Arnold stood, ready to put a firm hand down, and demand that she return to bed. For some inane reason, Helga had been unusually compromising as to her condition, not giving Arnold much trouble about being confined to the room. For as far as he was concerned, she had little or no recollection of "The Night of The Strawberries", as she playfully called it, and was just being reasonable.
"Helga, your still-"
"Still what?", she implied, sensing that had she not cut him off, he would have said something very stupid.
"I just think that you're not quite ready to…" He really was looking out for her. He'd only left the room twice in the last two days, one was to go to Gerald's room for fifteen minutes, and the other was a food run. Other than that, he'd stayed in the room just as much as she had, and was equally sick of it. If she was willing to compromise about doing nothing, he was willing to compromise if she wanted to go with him. But of course, not without certain restrictions.
"One hour. If you're feeling sick after that, we're coming right back, okay?", he couldn't let her slide with this one. He'd already gotten her sick for too much of her vacation, and if he let anything else happen to her, she probably wouldn't have forgiven him. He probably wouldn't have forgiven himself.
Helga made no audible reply, just took some clothes into the bathroom to change. It took her a little longer than usual, but within fifteen minutes or so, she was out, donned in her usual attire: T-shirt, black jeans, worn out shoes. She didn't have anyone to impress today. Once your best guy friend sees you're faced blanketed in crimson, and is forced to carry you a mile and a half to the nearest hospital because you've eaten strawberries, what dignity you may have had in storage is virtually gone.
Back outside, the wind was choppy and brisk, and both teenagers were thankful that they'd packed larger coats. Arnold walked a pace or two in front of Helga, as the sidewalks were too narrow and packed for the two to walk side by side. As they progressed down the sidewalk, and towards the street corner, the crowd got thicker, and Helga found it harder to keep up with Arnold. After several men in identical black business suits intercepted her for the last time, Helga's hand shot out in partial panic.
Despite the extreme weirdness of two nights ago, as soon as Arnold felt something grab at his hand, he sensed to be Helga, and in turn fastened onto it. Neither of them had dare speak about the incident, they merely brushed it off as something irrelevant and pointless. But to both of them, such things were anything but meaningless.
With one hand clutching the northern most part of her coat, where the zipper ended, and the other in Arnold's, Helga was beginning to feel the eyes of every passerby burning into her neck. The thought of so many eyes watching her and Arnold, and some of them possibly thinking the expected, sent an unusual chill up her spine. And the fact that part of her wished it really were true, gave the chill an extra kick.
Even as they stood on the street corner with seven hundred other people, neither of them, parted and proceeded across the street with the horde of people. Listening intensely to the sounds of the busy city, Helga kept her gaze on the corner store. Arnold on the other hand, although much better at hiding emotions than Helga, was having a particularly difficult time finding something to distract him until the light signaled them to go across the road.
Rather than Helga's approach to an awkward situation by silence and not paying it heed, Arnold found it easier to talk until his head caved in. But amongst the car horns, screeching tires and the rustling leaves in the mid-morning gale, kept a number if his words from being understood. Eventually, the light that prohibited them from crossing safely, resumed its original color, and they were permitted to proceed. Completely passing the corner store that Helga was almost certain they'd be going into, Arnold approached a modest sized booth where a tiny little woman with her hair tied away from her face, stood and flipped stir-fry on an open flatbed oven. Above their heads was a large, plastic yellow sign that read "FINE SZECHUAN DINING AND CARRY OUT."
"You wanna eat here?", Helga asked, not taking her eyes off the "U" on the sign that was bound to fall off if the wind didn't let up.
"Yes, I'm in the mood for some Fine Szechuan Dining and Carry Out."
"But how do you know it's fine?" Helga asked.
"Because I've had it before.", Arnold answered, not quite understanding the nature of her question.
"I know it's good in general, but how do this is fine?", Helga asked. It was less of a question this time, more like something being brought to his attention, like a Public Service Announcement.
"I don't…I'm not…I don't follow." Arnold replied, near flabbergasted. Looks like she'd have to spell this one out for him.
"Okay, the sign says they serve Fine Szechuan Dining, right?"
"And Carry Out.", Arnold added.
"But how do you know the dining is fine? It might really be "Mediocre Szechuan Dining" or "Pretty Good but not quite Fine Szechuan Dining. You never really know, do you?", Helga asked, shaking her head scholarly. Princess Pessimism reigns.
"Okay, all dining matters put aside, let me ask you something.", Arnold said, inquisitively. She wasn't going to slip by with some lame answer or dumb excuse.
"Go ahead." He wasn't going to trap her in some twist of words, or one of his clever clichés.
"Do you doubt everything? I mean really, if I were to tell you something deep and personal, would you believe me?"
Arnold's face was now very close to hers, and she could read the seriousness on his face. What on earth could she say to that? If it were just about anybody else, her answer would be relatively simple. But Arnold somehow bent the rules in his favor. He had a weird kindness to him that made you think you could trust him with the things you can't even trust a journal with. And, of course, with his record, most people would find it easy to confide in him. If something was truly confidential, he made sure to keep it that way. But trusting someone else's word? Trusting that he would really tell her something "deep personal"? Not quite Helga…
"In truth…", Helga began, sending him defiant look almost as intense as his own. "…I really couldn't tell you." She hoped that would end the conversation and dispute any like it that he would think of starting later. Her accountability on other people wasn't her favorite topic.
"Do you think they'll let you bring that in?", Arnold said, pointing to the white Styrofoam box Helga tucked under her arm.
"Why not, I won't eat it in here.", Helga replied, opening the door to the store. The fact that she had eaten was fine enough, but that the food was good enough for her to "Carry Out", surprised even her. "Why are we going in here anyway? I thought you just wanted something to eat." Helga said, following him inside nonetheless.
"Yeah, well, I think in the last two days, we've watched "The Hot Chick" and "Arachnophobia" entirely too many times. I don't know, thought we'd pick something else up. Okay with you?", Arnold asked, already scanning the aisles for movies. At this point, Helga had little to no room for objection. Lately, it'd been his way or the highway, seeing as this was the first time she'd been outdoors in two days. She had to constantly remind herself that he was looking out for her best interests, and not deliberately smothering her. Putting all thoughts aside, she began to interest herself with a long line of Science Fiction Movies, that she really had no interest in, but decided to look at anyway.
From where Arnold stood, he could see where Helga was, and what she was reading, even though they were on different aisles. To Arnold, Helga was never one to give in to defeat or ask for help from anyone. Thinking, Speaking and acting on her own terms were daily habits that could not be broken. And yet, for some reason, she allowed him to restrain and curtail her, even when he was being the slightest bit unreasonable. But somehow, she kept her mouth shut, and just kept going.
After half an hour of reading the backs of movies, and being outside fifteen minutes longer than he'd promised, Arnold was ready to call it a day. In his arms he carried his coat, seeing as the video store was overly heated compared to outside. All the movies he looked at were boring, and the few that he actually wanted were rented out.
Making his way to the front of the store, Arnold wondered where Helga was. He saw her wander off from the Science Fiction section, but not sure of where she was headed. He checked the microscopic magazine section, the Comedy section, Romance, Drama, Action, all of them. He even resorted to asking the cashier if he's seen her walk out of the door. His reply came from a pimple-faced platinum blonde that had started his shift 3 minutes ago.
Arnold was beginning to get worried. Helga wouldn't have just gone back to the hotel without telling him. And the store wasn't really very small. Against his will, he went outside to make sure she wasn't waiting on a bench or leaning against the building. She wasn't. Back inside, he checked any part of the store that would draw Helga in. Still no sign of her.
For some reason, Arnold ignored the Children's Section of the store altogether. To him, it didn't seem like the kind of place Helga would just wander into, even though she acted like a child sometimes.
The aisles in the children's section were narrow and cramped, and with his wide shoulders, it was difficult for him to get through. Finally, after checking every row of the children's movies, he found Helga, reaching high on a shelf for something. As angry as he was, he decided against marching up to her right then, only because of the five year old that stood nearby. Stepping down from a stool, Helga handed the little boy a video, which ran off in the opposite direction. Arnold hardly wanted to speak to her as she approached him.
"Ready to go?", she asked, obviously not sensing the anger that pulsed through his veins and reddened his face. Advancing ahead of her, Arnold walked out the door, still holding his coat, and remaining silent. After a block of far less crowded streets than before, Helga could tell that Arnold wasn't quite being himself, although the reason still eluded her.
"Is something wrong Arnold?", she said, quickening up to his pace now. She found this more difficult now, her legs were already tired, a sign that she needed to get home and take her medication.
In an instant, Arnold whirled around ready to go off. "What do you think you're doing?", He said, harsher than his usual tone. Somehow, without any prior warning, he'd latched onto Helga's upper arm, without any signs of releasing her voluntarily.
"What?", Helga replied, slightly dumbfounded. This wasn't Arnold. Where the switch had occurred, she wasn't sure, but all she was sure of was that if this was Arnold, he was evidently angry.
"You can't just do whatever you want, Helga. That's not how things work.", he said, calming down, but not much.
Helga stood, virtually motionless, still not understanding what was happening. "What are you talking about?", she said, jerking her arm away. If this was anybody else, she would have leveled him or her for so much as touching her, let alone yelling at her for something she probably didn't do.
"The Video Store? Running off like that!! That was just stupid, Helga!", Arnold said, not making any effort to go anywhere until she'd understood that.
"First of all, I wasn't running off. You'd know that, had you not jumped down my throat the second we got outside. And second, I'm not doing whatever I want. For the past two days, I've been doing whatever you want!"
"I'm not even gonna argue with you about this. Why is it so hard for you to admit that you need help? It's not that big of a deal…"
By this time, Helga had made her way down the street, towards the hotel. True, she had the tendency to be stubborn, even thickheaded sometimes, but stupid. Nobody called her stupid. Big Bob even had enough sense not to call her stupid. As childish as she may have seemed, she continued into the hotel, and bypassing the stairs altogether, up the stairwell.
Arnold wasn't too upset with this, until he remembered Helga's philosophy from their first night in the hotel: The stairs are always faster. Which was true, and with her she could get up there, bolt the door, and jettison all of his clothes out of the window with time to spare. Inside the elevator, which seemed to move slower than ever, Arnold replayed their argument. Part of him was ashamed for doing so right there in the street, and the other half thought it well deserved. Still, he felt a twinge of remorse for saying some of the things he did, and knowing that he'd have to deal with the aftermath as soon as he got in the room.
The elevator doors parted, and Arnold stepped out into the empty hallway. He already knew Helga was in the room, as he approached it. Slipping his door key in then out, and pushing forward on the door, he was greeted by loud talking. He figured Helga had turned on the T.V. to drown out his own arrival. On top of her bed, Helga had rested her opened suitcase.
Without acknowledging his entrance or presence, Helga walked out of the bathroom, and passed him. She had gotten to the room with enough time to change into something decent, or at least something worth being seen in. Still walking around in her socks, the only piece of clothing left unchanged, she threw various little things into her handbag, things she rarely used, but figured she would need anyway. Neither of them spoke, until Helga waltzed up to her bed and jerked on her coat, over the bright blue V-neck sweater, and black pants.
"What, you're not going to speak to me now?", Arnold said, not caring whether or not she answered. Arnold was tired. He was tired before he even stepped into the room. Tired of apologizing first, and being the bad guy, and putting up with Helga's seven million mood swings every other day. As hard as he tried, he wasn't any closer to breaking her complex code than he was to deciphering Egyptian Hieroglyphics.
For the first time since their argument, Helga shot Arnold a menacing gaze, but remained silent. Vengefully, she snatched her hair to the back of her head and continued to the door. Yes, she was being immature, yes she was being unreasonable, and yes she was being a baby. She was being everything she hated in other people. And that Arnold, with their history, could make her become the infantile person that she was. But there'd be time for self-discipline later. Right now, she was pissed, and he was in the way.
Despite Helga's obvious lack of interest in anything Arnold had to say, Arnold had to get a few more things off of his chest. Helga's feelings would have to take a backseat this time.
"Look, I don't care if your speaking to me or not. You need to hear this. Whether you like it or not, you can't do everything by yourself. I don't get why you can't just admit that you need help. Not everybody is out to get you." As true, and as heartfelt as his plea may have been, his tone didn't denote any such feeling. The only way Helga would understand what he was saying was to do so in her language: Anger.
Either way, Helga was halfway out the door, with no signs of turning around. She knew she couldn't do everything alone, she knew she needed people. But right now, she wasn't sure she needed Arnold. "Not everybody needs you, Arnold." And with that she left.
Down the hallway, Helga didn't so much as turn her back. She said all she needed to say, and was almost certain the same went for Arnold. In a nutshell, getting away from Arnold just seemed like the best idea, even if she'd regret it later.
Back outside, the sky had darkened, but the sun defied and shed light on the streets. Helga advanced towards the end of the street, hoping there'd be something downtown to capture her interest. Suddenly remembering her medication, she stopped at a street vender's cart and bought a bottle of water. After turning the corner, she proceeded to search her purse for the bottle of little white pills.
'Wonderful', she thought, mentally cursing at herself for forgetting them, and then at Arnold for making her so angry as to forget. In her rage, she stomped around the room, able to change before he made his way up. And even after he reentered the room, she found it hard to concentrate aside from avoiding looking at him.
Shaking all thoughts of Arnold out of her mind and onto the pavement, Helga walked on, convinced that it's already been two days, and she probably wouldn't even need her medication anymore. She scolded herself repeatedly for leaving her only money in her suitcase, another side effect of her anger. Finding herself at the theatre she'd been literally carried out of, and not having enough money for a ticket, she stood outside, trying to look as though she belong somewhere. Her only companions outside the theatre were a few college kids who'd stepped out to smoke, and the same ticket taker from a few nights before. Standing around doing nothing began to get to her, and she swiftly pulled out a stick of bright yellow gum, and chewed, hoping to fill the silence in her head.
This place was too quiet. All this silence gave her too much time to think about Arnold, who was, at the moment, forbidden territory. As she abandoned her spot, at least a hundred people flooded from the theatre, signaling the end of the play. Being pummeled by fifty or so college-aged kids wasn't what Helga would call "enjoyable", but at least it wasn't quiet anymore.
"Hey HEY!"
Helga kept going, convinced whoever this person is was calling to someone in front of her. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she let the cold airbrush over her, but not without a scowl first. Without warning, a hand was on her shoulder and panting in her ear. She was about finished with people putting their hands all over her. This guy had two seconds to remove his hand from her before he got a swift kick in the…
"Is this yours? I think you dropped it when you left the play."
Helga turned, hoping it'd be a twenty-dollar bill, which she wouldn't mind claiming. After all, was she to do? Ask everyone who just came out of the play if they dropped any cash? She turned, a little reluctantly. Instead of much needed cash, she found her shoe, in the hands of an unusually familiar face. Her eyes met with ones very much like hers, only a darker shade of blue, partially hidden by a mop of shaggy brown hair. How and when he got her shoe, she wasn't sure, but she thanked him anyway. Overall, he wasn't bad looking, and for a while got her mind off of Arnold.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite get your name…"
For some reason, this made Helga smile. Not that she was one to walk around frowning all of the time, but very rarely could a complete stranger make her feel like a giggling freshman. And that he was so polite, even if it was just in asking her name, it made her feel more receptive to taking to him. Despite all of this, she wasn't letting her real name slip for anything.
"Lori." she said, peering over his shoulder (that was a full 7 inches higher than hers) and the Lord and Taylor store down the street, with several middle-aged women leaking out of it.
"Josh…", he replied, almost mimicking her. Her first response would be to take offense, but she declined. She'd been angry enough to day. She wasn't quite sure how to counter his name revelation, but to stand there and look at something other than his face.
"…I was just about to go get something to eat, wanna come?"
As a child, Helga was an avid fan of Sesame Street (Specifically Mr. Snuffleupagus). And everyone knows that right after Sesame Street is the same public service announcement that warns you to turn and run when a stranger asks you to go anywhere with him/her. But, what they don't tell you is that if you are over the age of 16, the stranger has introduced himself, is moderately good looking, and asks you to "go get something to eat", then you should be okay.
"So what are you doing all by yourself in big ole' New York?", he asked, from across the table. Over the past twenty or so minutes, Josh had actually taken an interest in her, as opposed to trying to convince her that it was warmer in his apartment than in the restaurant.
"I'm on vacation… with some friends.", She answered. Being in New York alone, after clearly identifying herself as a tourist would not only be dangerous, but also pretty stupid.
"That's cool. I've lived here most of my life. Sometimes at night…"
Helga let him go on about whatever it was he was going on about, while she sneaked a peek at her wristwatch. 8:34. She could get back to the hotel in more than enough time. That is, if she wanted to get back. She hadn't considered what it'd be like, running back into the hotel room she'd run out of, just over an hour ago. She had one more day left in New York, and did not want to spend it being angry and avoiding Arnold. Looks like an apology was in order…
"Ya wanna go?" Josh asked, for the second time. Apparently he's been jabbering about something that required an answer.
"Um…", Helga said, trying to look deep in thought, while in reality, she was piecing together the parts of their conversation she'd actually listened to. 'It's definitely a place…', she gathered. Brilliant.
"A friend of mine is having a party at his place. Just a few close friends and stuff. Besides, we can't have you walking around New York in the dead of night."
Helga just nodded, not knowing quite sure if she could trust him. So far, he hadn't tried anything fishy, and seemed fairly polite. After paying the tab, he draped his coat over her shoulder, even though she was already wearing her own. It was a polite gesture, and Helga appreciated it, even though she saw that as something more of what Arnold would do. As soon as they approached the scene of the party, Helga was convinced that the people that were practically hanging out of windows, doors, and anything that led outdoors, were more than a "few close friends". Instead it looked like half of the human population was fighting to get in or out of this house.
After pushing and shoving their way into the door, Helga was immediately reminded of the disgusting rest stop bathroom, that she refused to use on their way to New York. Finally getting to the center of a large room, full to capacity with college kids, 98% of them stark, raving drunk, Josh performed some elaborate high-five thing with another guy, almost the same height.
'Wonderful', Helga thought. 'He's a frat boy', Helga thought, while dodging beer cans being thrown across the room. She could tell there was a conversation going on between the two frat brothers, but the loud annoying music that consisted of screeching guitars and loud, meaningless screaming.
Amongst all of the noise, Helga could feel a headache brewing. At first she figured it was because she hadn't eaten, when in reality, she knew she desperately needed her medication. But as of right now, three things prohibited her from returning to the hotel as fast as possible: 1) Her pride (which seemed to be getting in the way of everything, lately) 2) The DJ whom she wanted to beat to a pulp now and 3) A red plastic cup thrust into her hand by one of Josh's friends. It was filled with some brownish, soda-like liquid, which she found out later was Rum and Coke. The first few gulps were okay, it seemed to make her headache go away momentarily. But the next cup (and the three after it) was just to erase every bad thing from her memory, especially her fight with Arnold.
Exactly one hour and 42 minutes later, Helga woke up, in a bathroom she didn't recognize. Outside the bathroom, Helga could tell that the DJ had turned the music up, even though she couldn't really hear the words. Around her there sat about four or five red plastic cups, each of them with a spoonful of the now nauseating brown liquid leaking out.
Her vision was slightly blurred, but she could make out the toilet, sink, bathtub, and how far away she was from each. Above the toilet, which sat at the far end of the bathroom, was a small window, no larger than the toilet itself. She figured that'd be her escape route if she weren't able to get out through the front door. The window was rather small, when she really thought about it, and thought it best to weather the door rather than kill herself trying to squeeze through a window.
Crawling to the bathroom door, she sat up on her knees and opened the door, breaking the barrier between herself and the ear splitting noise concocted of people, music, and other useless sounds. Finally getting back on her feet, she propped herself on walls, doors, and desks for support. Just as freedom seemed ten feet away (in her drunken state, it was about four and a half) she was intercepted by Josh, who may have been as equally wasted as her. As of now, she wasn't much in the mood for anyone as drunk as her.
"I has to go back to Ethan…or something.", Helga stammered. Attempting to move him out of her way, Josh murmured something that Helga couldn't quite comprehend, but whatever it was, it made her crawl back into the bathroom. With people like him and a hundred others walking around, she was sure she wouldn't make it out unharmed. Locking the door, this time, she sat up against the toilet and pulled out her cell phone. She wasn't able to get a signal from where she was, but tried and got the hotel concierge. "Room, uh room 319", she said, as the elevator music temporarily filled her left ear.
"Hello?"
"Pheebs? It's Helga…"
"Helga, where are you calling from? Are you back at the Blue place?", Phoebe asked.
It was right then that Helga started to cry, half out of drunkenness, the other half out of having to tell Phoebe where she really was. Phoebe was one of the few people who thought she was more than what she seemed, that she was a decent, honorable person. "I'm, I'm at a frat house…"
Instead of angry, Phoebe sounded more surprised than anything. "A Frat house? Who do you and Arnold know in a Fraternity?"
Helga started staring out of the blurry window again. If she didn't get out of there soon, she probably would pass out and wake up in the same place. "Arnold's snot ear. We were fighting in I, I ran off.", She said, swallowing the last few tears. She had come here to get her mind off of Arnold, and here she was drunk and sobbing, over it.
Phoebe sat on the other end of the phone, silently. "Helga Geraldine Pataki,..are you DRUNK?"
Helga was now holding the phone away from her ear. So much for Phoebe not sounding upset. Other than this, Helga had alcohol on one occasion, Phoebe's parent's twentieth anniversary party, and even then, it was half a glass of champagne. She'd never really, been "drunk".
"That's aside the point, can you send Gerald to come and pick me up or something?" There was now a pounding on the other side of the door coupled with the complaints of males and females waiting for access to the bathroom.
"What about Arnold?", Phoebe asked.
"He's angry at me; he prolly wouldn't come if I paid him.", Helga said struggling to sit up straight. The pounding in her head had subsided for now, but there seemed to be pounding going on everywhere else.
"Fine, uh are you near that place we went the other night?", Phoebe asked, knowing fairly well that Gerald was not good with directions, and truthfully, neither was Helga in such a state.
"I don't know, maybe.", Helga answered, not sensing the relevance of the question.
"Gerald will meet you there in fifteen minutes. Think you can get out by then?"
"Yup,", Helga said, looking intently at the window. She would do near anything to get out and as far away from that house as possible. Part of her, however wished that it was Arnold coming to get her. Not that she minded Gerald, but it'd give her a better chance to properly apologize. "…One more thing Pheebs."
"What is it?"
"Promise you won't tell Arnold where I am?"
Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!! That was fun! I've never written like that! I mean, I told myself that I was going to finish this chapter before Friday the 9th, and it's 1:01 AM, Friday!!! But usually, I have to push back my deadline if I have writer's block or something. Anyhoo, I really like this chapter, the thought of Helga drunk is kinda funny, but a little sad. Okay, I'm going to bed now!! Kiss, Kiss, Goodnight, Goodnight!!!
My Stars
- I never curse in my fan fiction, or at all for that matter, and the fact that I said pissed is pushing it…especially for me!
-I know a lot of people on here are in college (cough, cough, Jae B), and possibly in fraternities and sororities, so I'm not trying to make fun of anybody!! I love you all!!!
Oh yes, and please review!!! Mwah!
-Pointy Objects a.k.a. Antoinette