"Often father and daughter look down on mother (woman) together. They exchange meaningful glances when she misses a point. They agree that she is not bright as they are, cannot reason as they do. This collusion does not save the daughter from the mother's fate." — Bonnie Burstow, Radical Feminist Therapy: Working in the Context of Violence.

Miriam Pataki is an idiot, this is what her youngest daughter would tell if you ever asked her what she thought of her mother.

She would tell you that her mother was lacking in basic skills, how she was always so tipsy that she could barely stand, and how the very basics of being a mother were beyond lost on her. She would tell you that the woman lacked drive and personal will, and was simply grazing through life like a snail on the sidewalk.

Miriam Pataki is a husk, this is what her husband would tell you if you ever asked him what he thought of his wife.

He would tell you that his wife was not what she once was, that her beauty had long since faded and whatever love they shared had been severed many years ago. He would tell you how he couldn't even bring himself to lay beside her, because he had lost so much interest in her that their marriage sanctity meant nothing to him.

Miriam Pataki is weak, is another thing her daughter would say if asked about her mother.

She would tell you how much annoyance it brought her to watch her mother be pushed over and swung around like a ragdoll by the man she married, how Miriam was set in her youth to be successful, only to ruin it by stupidly tying herself to a man she had no business fraternizing with. She would tell you how if her husband laid a hand on her, she would hit him back before making sure he never saw her again, and how she couldn't understand how Miriam didn't do the same thing. She would rant about how Miriam clearly wanted to be an addict, because quitting wasn't that hard, and she was just making it harder for herself.

Miriam Pataki is insufferable, is another thing her husband would say if asked about his wife.

He'd go on about how she would constantly neglect her motherly and wifely duties, how he wondered what he ever saw in her in the first place. He'd tell you how disrespected and embarrassed he felt when he came home only to find her passed out, unlike his colleagues who came home to warm and cooked food from their loving and attractive wives. He would rave about how much she provoked him, how she was wasting away and how she would seek attention by breaking down and sobbing constantly.

Bob wasn't very fond of Helga, and Helga was sure she hated Bob. However, if there was one thing that bonded them, it was underlining knowledge they shared that Miriam was pathetic.

Helga couldn't wrap her head around it, how one woman could be such a doormat, how one woman could be so unintelligent. It wasn't deserving of respect, it couldn't be. In a world such as this, a world that was harsh and riddled with those who want to use and abuse you, there was no room for drifters who let it happen, and she couldn't bring herself to view the woman as anything but a wretched, perpetual victim. It was a jaded view for a child to have, and she was sure many would tell her she was being cruel, but this would not stop her from believing she was being realistic.

That was Helga's problem, she was smart, too smart to be surrounded by the imbeciles that plagued her day-to-day life. She was too smart to doll herself up for the approval of some guy, and she was too smart to allow some guy to step all over her like a rug in a living room. She was too smart to not notice when she was being played for a fool, and she was too smart to ruin her chances at life in the name of a man. Helga was smart, something most women weren't.

She could only glower in pure contempt at the brainless ones that would cry constantly about the boys that mistreated them, feeling a sense of accomplishment in knowing that it could never be her. Helga with the fists of steel, Helga that never cried, Helga that didn't give males even a glimpse of time. Even when her beauty shone, when there came a time where they came flocking, Helga kept true to herself, knowing that only an idiot would fall victim to their manipulative ways.

So when she came home from school one night, only to walk in on Bob yelling at a dazed Miriam, who was sobbing in a ball, all Helga could do was scoff and shake her head. Bob was an idiot, a crude, nasty, self-centered idiot, but even then he was smarter than Miriam. She was sure that was where she got her drive, her will, her strength. Perhaps he had taught her how to be smart by virtue of showing her the consequences of being an idiotic woman, ending up like her mother. Men like Bob only worked so long as women like Miriam let him. The two could only roll their eyes whenever the mother cried.

Every failed marriage Olga had only strengthened Helga's resolve. Her sister was a moron. An airhead who was stupid enough to trust men and believe them, a dimwit that was willing to actually fall in love with the unplanted seed, believing she could help him grow, only to be left with a pile of fertilizer and broken promises. Each time, her sympathy would shatter just a little, as she wondered how on earth her sister couldn't see what she was falling for, who she was falling for. By the time husband five came and went, and Olga was left with three bastards who looked nothing like each other, Helga could only laugh at her circumstances.

She pondered on whether Bob felt the same way she did. They would share a quick glance, mere seconds before the man would scream about who dared break his dear Olga's heart. Their blue pupils would glimmer in a shared understanding that Olga was inept in handling the real world, as well how ludicrous it was that she had even made it this far. It was never discussed, never said aloud, just a shared conclusion that they had the wherewithal to approach life that the two didn't. It was the only thing they had in common, neither were as foolish as Miriam and Olga.

As the rage-fueled girl became a benumbed woman, she found herself roaming in a world lacking those like her, it seemed every woman she met was just as witless as the last, naive, cretinous, dopes with nonsensical dreams and vapid aspirations. It was like Miriam, who truly believed she could amount to more than a vacuous alcoholic whom had wasted away her only few good years. They reminded her of Olga, whose asinine wants in life had lead to an existence dictated by fertility and fading youth. Helga could never, and as the years went by, she found herself thanking Bob for being the reason she grew to have common sense.

So when she met a man, accomplished, beautiful with the drive only seen in someone hungry for success, she knew she had found the one. No more would she pine, she knew that her years of straying away from the image Olga had desperately spent her entire life cultivating had lead her to a better life, she was smart enough to pick a good man, a worthy man. So when he wanted a wedding, large with dozens in a attendance, and a honeymoon in Hawaii, she saw no reason to deny him. When he bought her a ring worth hundreds of thousands, she kept it on every second of the day, and when he asked her to take some time off after she graduated, she understood that he knew what he was talking about so she did so, because Helga wouldn't marry a man that didn't.

Then the baby came. She was a beautiful little doll, with the most darling brown eyes and flaxen curls that sat atop her head like a cloud. She had rounded cheeks that were soft like marshmallows, and hands so tiny you could pinch them with two fingers. Like any mother, she would lovingly caress her beautiful cherub's face, tickling her gift from God as her heart melted at the tiny giggles she would let out. She would hold her in her arms, whilst her guiding husband would lead his two loves back home, where they would live as expected, happily, together.

Soon, the baby got sick. She would heave and cough dryly, she would be hot to the touch, and was soon on a diet that consisted mostly of medication. Helga was unable to breastfeed from the start, and seeing as her baby was made to consume prescription narcotics in the way of what she was supposed to broke her. She was told her newfound emotional state was linked to postpartum complications, because for whatever reason, Helga was unable to mentally recover from giving birth like other women did. They gave her medicine to help.

Eventually, the baby died. It was sudden, paramedics rushed to the scene, she was sent to a natal ward where they worked on her tirelessly, but it was pointless. The baby was dead.

Helga had never accepted it, neither had her husband. The baby's death had caused a tear in her idealistic life that was never sewn shut. There were few days when she wasn't being doped up on her antidepressants where she would hear his comments, what sort of mother can't keep her own baby alive, she would hear. Her husband was smart, nothing like the men Olga copulated with given the chance, he most likely had a point. That was the difference between Helga and them, she could take accountability.

They tried again, and again, and again. Few made it past a few months, and the two that did were not alive long enough to see their first birthday. With each death and each failure, the dome of her perfect marriage were chipping away from above her, and Helga had no way to protect herself from the falling debris. She took more antidepressants, wondering if the more she took and the happier she became, the better it would all be. She drowned her sorrows in false hope, ignoring the snide remarks from her husband, refusing to acknowledge him saying any variant of the one thing I expect from you and you can't even do it.

Her days became a twisted Groundhog Day, her American dream consisting of waking up, taking a handful of pills, cooking, cleaning, trying to get pregnant, crying, and repeat. As they days went by, she felt the touch of her perfect husband less and less, the mesmerizing song of his love proclamations to her were becoming a distant memory, and his dance of kisses across her neck were now but a moment to reminisce. Even then, in a haze of artificially enhance serotonin, she told herself that this was most likely rectifiable.

It didn't matter that she was beginning to roam aimlessly around their large home, as her sense of self began to slowly decay. Her husband wasn't even home anymore, she still wasn't working, so now she had nothing to do but battle her own thoughts on a daily basis. Sadness wasn't permitted, she refused to be miserable, and so the dosage she took of her medication slowly increased, day by day she took one or two more. Soon, she had drawers filled to the brim with them, they had become her main source of joy, they made her happy, so she took them.

There was a time when she used to snap back at her husband's rudeness, but nowadays she just sat there, staring into space as he went on and on about her many failures, such as her inability to continue his legacy successfully. She couldn't tell you how much time had passed, or what day they were on. When was the last time she spoke? When was the last time she laughed? When was the last time she looked into his eyes and smiled? She woke up most days unable to move, her knees feeling so weak that she feared she would simply fall over if she did.

It was her thirtieth birthday when it all sunk in. They used to celebrate together, singing songs in drunken whimsey, eating cake and making love until the early hours of the next morning. They'd tell each other how grateful they were to have made it another year by each other's side, and how eager they were to spend another hundred years together. Today was different, she was alone, there was no cake and there were no drinks, her husband was out of the house yet again and hadn't even thought of taking the day off. There were no wrapped up gifts waiting for her, there was no breakfast in bed and they hadn't planned anything fun to do together.

Helga sat up in bed, reaching over to her bedside table and grabbling the tiny container that held her medication. She had accidentally turned left, catching sight of herself in the mirror. She had been avoiding mirrors for some time, but now she had faced one, she couldn't look away. Her skin was pale, like the baby powder she had only been able to use a handful of times on her firstborn, her blue eyes had become a vacant grey, surrounded by dark marks and circles. Her unibrow from her youth had since grown back, and she had lost a significant amount of weight, making her jaw and neck bones protrude.

Against her will, her throat began to tighten and burn, Helga was quick to shove a handful of pills down her throat before dropping the container. She held onto her sides, trying to soothe her shivering body as she tightened her eyes closed. She was unable to stop the quiet chokes from escaping her, and could do nothing as burning, searing tears forced their way out of her red eyes. Her hands soon moved to cover her face, her crying becoming louder and louder until she was a ball of sobs in her own bedroom. She couldn't remember the last time she cried, but now all she could do was wail pathetically as it all clicked into place for her. Despite how hard she worked, how desperately she strayed, how bitterly she judged, there was one thing that prevailed through it all.

Helga was just like Olga and Miriam.

Helga and Bob's relationship has always been a fascinating one to me. When it comes to his actual portrayal in the show, his relationship with Helga reminds me a lot of the Bonnie Burstow quote listed above, hence the title of this one shot. They both find unity and solidarity looking down on Miriam, believing that they are better than her, smarter than her. Strangely enough Helga seems like a daddy's girl in the show, as she takes from him the most in terms of appearance, personality, interests and even catchphrases. She respects her father, who is outwardly cruel and vindictive towards her, more than she does her passive and unengaged mother who is also a victim of Bob's mistreatment.

There's a not-so-subtle misogyny in how Helga and Bob treat Miriam, as well as in how Helga views other women and girls in the show who aren't her friends (especially those she deems her rivals in gaining Arnold's affections). These are things she picks up from her father, things that bond them. She feels that since she thinks like Bob, that makes her smarter than the other girls, smarter than her mother, smarter than her sister. Thus making her too smart to end up like Miriam, allowing her and her father to both sneer at her incompetence, as depicted in the show individually.

Ironically enough though, in the same way Olga's supposed perfection couldn't protect her from the evil reality of a misogynistic world, Helga's believed superiority among other women couldn't protect her either. As Burstow put it, this conclusion does not save the daughter from the mother's fate.

Wow, what a long A/N lol, I guess I had a lot to say. Review if you can :) would love to hear your thoughts.

— Nicole