Everything seemed to turn out fine with the gang from that day on. The dinner that night, however, was less than extraordinary as Abner literally took a bath in Henry's dinner, and then leaped into June's lap.
"Aww, it's kind of cute!" June remarked. Henry had to go to the bathroom to wash up after that, but as he went upstairs he thought, "Lucky pig."
Henry, surprisingly, was excellent at football.
"After the game on Thursday, Gerald asked, "Wow, man! Where'd you get all those skills? Are celebrity lives THAT cool?" "It's not that," Henry replied. "I'm just glad I'm not the ball. Maybe you should try playing a game with Bigfoot!"
However, Henry wasn't that cocky. By this time, he already settled the friends from the jerks, and was starting to get popular; Wolfgang overheard and said that soon Henry would get what was coming to him.
Bullies are almost always excellent at sports, and Henry saw himself as a box of toothpicks compared to him. As he walked home, he then had an idea.
"Wait, girls like sports, right?" he thought. "Maybe, if I can just concentrate hard enough on trying to not look like a klutz, June might notice me!"
He then pondered for a second before opening the door, before allowing the daily flood of cats, dogs, and Abner rush out. "She's got to notice me; we're around each other most of the time..."
June came home a little later, as she was discussing the 'operation' with Helga at her house. Olga had left for college again, and Miriam was off on another road trip visiting Helga's grandmother. It just left June, Helga and Big Bob at the house, who was busy watching game shows in the living room while Helga and June were upstairs.
"Now, as long as no, and I repeat, NO competition comes between you and the Green Not-So Giant, you're golden!" Helga concluded. "You guys can do whatever you want, but remember to meet me and Arnold around the bumper cars at 10:15."
"This'll be perfect. Maybe I'll get a ki-" June sighed lovingly as she was soon interrupted. It was Helga's father, yelling from downstairs.
"Hey, Olga. Some telemarketer wants the hippie!" he shouted. June and Helga did a simultaneous face palm.
"Good luck with my dad. You'll need it." Helga warned. June walked downstairs to the living room, as Big Bob handed her the phone.
"Hello?" June asked. "Oh, Jubilee!" Mr. Stockdale greeted. "How's everything?"
"Fine, I gu-" June began. "Hold that thought," Mr., Stockdale interrupted. "I've got to tell you that my daughter Dawn will be joining you." June was speechless. If she arrived, it would be miserable for her! "Can I ask you something?" June started. "Go right ahead." Mr. Stockdale replied.
"WHY IN THE HOLY MOTHER OF HILLWOOD WOULD YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO SEND HER HERE?" June shouted. She was heavily panting; you could see the bloodshot anger in her eyes. Big Bob peculiarly glanced at her before returning to his game show.
"Well, I know that you two were great friends back on the show," Mr. Stockdale quivered. "It'll only be for a week, she has no where else to go. It's spring break where she is. We would have sent her first, but some woman named, I don't know, Whole-Grain delayed our flight. She'll be here sooner than you think."
"Everything will be fine, Jenny. Why, I remember when I was in the war-"
June pushed the receiver before Mr. Stockdale could continue. She then handed the phone back to Big Bob, and went back upstairs. She was extremely aggravated.
"Hey, Ms. Summer, what's the matter?" Helga asked.
"Me and my big mouth, that's what." June scoffed. "The backstabber's going to come, maybe by tomorrow."
"All we got to do is make sure she knows NOTHING about the cheese festival, and if that doesn't work..." Helga stated.
She then went into her closet to dig up loads of memorabilia from her last operation, 'Operation: Ruthless'.
"These have the official Helga G. Pataki guarantee. They don't work, I'll give you 1/2 of my lunch for a week!" Helga vowed. "Too bad Miriam always forgets..."
"Lady, we just hit the gold mine." June smiled.
Meanwhile, Henry was trying to write some poetry for June. He read that for some reason, it shows affection. It was proven to be true, as Arnold remembered the time that he nearly found 1 of Helga's 14 volumes of poetry.
"Sure is kinda boring without June." Henry sighed. Arnold then came in the room, and asked, "But didn't you say that sometimes June was a headache?"
"Yeah, but she did alot for me. I wonder what she's up to now." Henry questioned. "That's probably not important now, I gotta get this done."
"Is that a love poem? It seems pretty nice to me." Arnold said. "Stuck for ideas? Maybe you should call Helga. You could talk to June."
On the other end, it was annoyance for Big Bob. The drill repeated, as June went back downstairs to answer the phone. However, her stomping turned into blushing when she picked up the phone.
H: "Um, June? Are you there?"
J: "Yeah, it's me. Listen, I got to tell you something."
H: "Sure, go ahead."
J: "Mr. Stockdale said that..." June shivered in anger. "Dawn is going to visit."
H: "I imagine that you're not happy about it."
J: "Why would you say that?"
H: "Well, do you want the entire list, the Reader's Digest, or the movie adaptation?"
J: "Ha-ha-ha, you caught on fast, Hanksky."
H: "And you know about that Cheese Festival?"
J: "Yeah?"
H: "You want to go with me?"
June was stunned. She didn't really expect that Henry would have the same feelings for her as she did for him.
J: "Sure!"
H: "And now, I got to tell you something."
J: "Shoot."
H: "Well, we've been friends for a while and, I think that I may l-"
"Hello?" June frantically repeated. All that she heard was an empty dial tone. Back at Sunset Arms, it was Abner who ate the telephone wire.
"Sorry about this, Henry." Arnold apologized. "Abner..." Arnold said sternly. Abner then spit out the telephone wire into Arnold's hand.
"Sheesh, and just when I finally got the confidence to say it." Henry complained.
Arnold then came by to his side. "At least nothing else can go out of hand." he assured.
"Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?" Henry remarked. He and Arnold then went downstairs for dinner.
On the table, a draft for a poem sat on the table.
I wish I could really tell you You may not believe it's true It's turning me far bluer I think I might be in love...
With you