The clouds were heavy, and densely packed as far as the eye could see. The deep gray blankets hung like ominous purveyors of fate- always looking down. Arnold and Helga walked through the desolate downtown area. Helga seemed unusually chatty, which Arnold attributed to her intoxicated condition. Arnold took the opportunity to quietly observe his friend, whilst taking care she didn't get herself into trouble, or far worse, danger.

Helga ranted on and on, gesturing broadly and emphatically, in meaningless, circular thought that seemed more like conversation one would pursue within oneself than aloud or than in company, "- Ooh, and here's a fun hobby you can take up any time you want to depress yourself- try counting seconds between every piece of trash you see on the streets. Every time you see a new piece of trash you start back at one. It's a great practice in misanthropy because you hardly ever make it into the double-digits!"

Arnold chuckled, entertained by her drabbles. His smile just about evaporated when he saw her scramble through her bag, however. He hoped, but his hopes weren't strong enough to make her pull out something other than her water bottle. It still had a little over a quarter vodka tonic remaining, and Arnold felt his stomach sink.

Helga unscrewed the cap, mindless of her actions. Arnold interjected, hesitant, but determined to at least attempt to salvage his friend's condition before they arrived at her home, "Helga, um, I don't think you should have any more."

She scoffed, rolling her head with her eyes and smiling like a coyote, a judgmental position already locked in her mind. She saluted Arnold sloppily with a mocking chuckle as she kept pace, "Ay ay, Captain conscience. Wouldn't want any fun to be had in this one horse town."

Arnold rolled his eyes calmly. A grimace of disapproval marked his features. It only figured her response would be laden with sarcasm and obstinacy. If only he had caught the lingering look she gave, in it a feeling of disappointment in herself. She drowned it, defiantly, in a hearty swig, and her features tightened as she cringed from the burning sensation that ran down her throat with a vengeance.

Arnold replied hotly, "You know, being sensible doesn't mean I don't know how to have fun."

The flaxen haired girl stopped in her tracks and drew a mischievous look that played out almost seductively, "Prove it."

Arnold froze up, feigning confusion, "Prove what? I was just trying to help. I'm just sorry you refuse to see it that way."

Helga kicked the front of her black converse tennis shoe against the sidewalk, trying not to react to his words, but instead to set the conversation on her terms, "You know damn well what I mean- show me a good time if you're so fun and well adjusted. Show me the light, football head."

Arnold looked to the cracked cement beneath his tired shoes, quietly brooding in his way. His eyes slowly drifting to the asphalt and the couple pot holes in the roadside lingering in his peripheral. And somewhere between logic and the concrete before him, he found himself remembering his conversation with his grandfather. A shadow fell over his features and Helga waited apprehensively for a response he seemed to enjoy withholding.

Helga snapped, impatient and frustrated by his needless silence, "Well? Are you gonna respond, or are you just gonna stand their like an idiot?"

He sensed an anxiety in her he rarely saw, but chose to ignore it. His greenish-blue irises flashed upward, sharply, "Give me that."

Helga felt a rush overcome her as Arnold brusquely invaded her space, and her breath froze in her lungs as he reached around her to grab her backpack and remove the item his hands sought. Before she could catch her breath she watched him greedily down the remaining quarter of the bottle in one fluid, bracing movement. She admired his jaw-line thrown back as he gulped down the remainder. She was entranced by his aggression; so foreign to his characteristic cool, and yet, she felt inexplicable intrigue.

When he had finished he blanched in disgust, but Helga's deep blue eyes remained transfixed, unmoving. He coughed and staggered, unprepared for the intensity of the drink, "Ack, it tastes like drainer fluid!"

Helga came to her senses, and laughed dryly, unable to hold back her own astonishment, "Haha, my god, Arnold! I didn't think you had it in you."

Arnold grabbed her wrist and pulled her in the opposite direction. She laughed again, this time to hide her uneasiness, "What are you doing, Arnold?...my house is that way."

Arnold stopped and turned, "You wanted me to show you a good time, right?"

Her eyes were dim until a spark of realization blew them wide, "Alright! Well, let's do this!"

The two walked back in the direction they came as a bellowing storm stewed above them. There was electricity in the air, and their steps became lively, though neither would admit they had no idea where they were headed that evening.

I apologize for my sporadic and seldom updates. I'm terrible with updating, but if you like the story enough, maybe you'll stick around anyway. If not, well, fuck it :)

[note: Helga's drunken thoughts about litter are my own. You should try it when you're on a walk by yourself. It really is hard to get into the double digits- there is so much trash EVERYWHERE! it's kind of depressing. I wish we could build a rocket and load it with our garbage and just jettison that shit off into space! I seriously don't understand why this isn't done...]