And You May Ask Yourself…
A. N.: This is my entry in Flower princess 11's challenge. It's also set in a pontential future of my series, Body Issues. The situations here might be that story's future, but they won't necessarily be. Those of you who have read that story know it's not your typical Hey Arnold story, so you can expect a decent dose of weirdness here. Those of you who haven't, you hopefully won't have to read it to understand what's going on here (but of course I'd love it if you do, and feel free to leave comments!).
With explanations out of the way, on to our story!
Chapter 1
Time, See What's Become of Me
25 Years Ago
Around Mid-April
Gerald Field
-ARNOLD-
"Man, anyone catch the latest episode of the Z-Files? Boy howdy, what a cliffhanger that was!"
I, Arnold Shortman, 9 years old, patiently waited for my turn at bat, trying to tune out Sid as he rambled about the latest developments in everybody's favorite sci-fi/suspense/political conspiracy thriller.
"So, like, Wolf gets captured by the aliens, but then at the end, he wakes up in his house, and his wife and kids are back with no explanation, and I'm like 'how is that possible? We saw them taken all the way back in season four!' But then his wife cuts herself making dinner, and the blood's the wrong color! And the camera pulls back and it turns out he's in an alien simulation the whole time!"
"Yeah, we know," muttered Gerald. "We all saw it."
"I didn't," complained Iggy.
"Hey, I gave a spoiler warning," Sid answered. "Well, I meant to give one."
A bunch of catcalls from the field confirmed that Joey had just struck out.
"All right, everyone, take five!" Helga called, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Arnold, the human ball repellent, is up to bat! Everyone can take it easy!"
I scowled. Sure, I hadn't gotten a single hit in the last three games, but she didn't have to rub it in like that.
It was hard to believe, mere weeks ago, she'd been confessing her undying love to me atop the FTI building. In the weeks since then, it seemed like she was acting even meaner than usual, as if she was trying to compensate.
Sometimes, I wondered if giving Helga the chance to back out of her confession had really been the best idea. Maybe the two of us could have reached some sort of understanding. Tried to figure out exactly how we felt each other. But I'd taken the coward's way out.
Of course, Helga hadn't had to react the way she did, either. But she'd chosen to escalate. And if this was her reaction… well, maybe the two of us really were better off as enemies.
I took my stance at the plate. "Easy out! Easy out! No way Footbal-Head's gettin' a piece of the ball!" Helga continued to jeer as I whiffed the first pitch.
"Could you just shut up and let me bat?" I irritatedly hissed.
"Awww, what'samatter, paste-for-brains? Did I hurt your wittle fee-fees or something? Here, let me play you a sad song on my tiny violin!"
Once again, Harold pitched, and once again, I missed spectacularly, swinging with such force I spun a full 360 degrees before almost falling down.
"Ha! Check it out! Arnold, the human tornado! C'mon, swing again, it's a hot day and we could all use a breeze!"
"Why are you like this?" I inquired, almost at the point of exasperation. "Why can't you just stop being a jerk for one second? I know you're not this way all the time. I know you have the capacity for kindness. Why can't you just let yourself use it?"
Helga lifted her catcher's mask to look me right in the eye. "You wanna know why? 'Cause you piss me off, Football-Head. You and your sanctimonious do-gooder attitude make me sick. You're always so nice and so perfect, it just makes me wanna throw up. That's why I'm so mean, Arnold. It's because of you."
"Well. Good of you to clear that up."
"Yeah, yeah, now hurry up and lose the game so we can all go home and I don't have to look at your ugly football face anymore."
My irritation began to blossom into full-blown anger. I wondered why I'd even bothered to talk to the pigtailed bundle of rage and scorn. Clearly, dealing with Helga was a waste of time. That whole "love confession" had probably just been another in a long series of cruel jokes.
Well, now I was going to show her. I was knocking this next one out of the park.
Harold wound up.
I choked up on the bat.
Harold let go of the pitch. It was a slider.
I prepared to swi-
"MISS!" Helga shouted in my ear.
"Helga!" Reflexively, I turned toward her in frustration. "Would you just-"
*POW*
And everything suddenly went black. I thought I heard a horrified voice shout "NO!" as I felt my consciousness fade out. The last thing I heard, as I faded out for the final time, was a whispered "I'm sorry."
"Good… it looks like he's regaining consciousness…"
I fought his way back to consciousness, toward the voice. My eyes snapped open, then quickly closed again at the harshness of the light.
"You're going to be a bit sensitive to bright light for a while. That's perfectly normal in these cases."
I opened his eyes again. The speaker was a young Asian woman, dressed in hospital scrubs and a lab coat. There was something oddly familiar about her and her voice...
"Wh-where am I…" Why did my voice sound so deep?
"You're at Hillwood General," the woman replied. "Tell me… what was the last thing you remember?"
"We were playing baseball… I got distracted, and a pitch hit me… I guess it was pretty bad if they brought me all the way here."
The woman looked concerned. "Oh dear. It looks like a pretty serious case." She tapped something on her wrist. A holographic screen expanded out of seemingly nothing. She began tapping at it.
"Tell me, Arnold… do you recognize me?" she said.
"I don't think so," I replied. "I mean, you kind of look like my friend Phoebe, but that's impossible. She's my age, and you're… y'know… old."
The woman chuckled a bit. "Actually… I am your friend Phoebe. And people tell me I look rather young for a 34-year-old."
"34? H-how is that possible?"
And then I looked down at his own body. My adult body.
"Arnold," she asked. "What is today's date?"
"April 13, 2015. Isn't it?"
She shook her head. "It's April 13… 2040. I don't know exactly how to tell you this…"
I felt dizzy.
"There was an attack at the museum where you work. You were struck by a memory-erasing device. Physically, you're in perfect shape. But, Arnold… you've had the last 25 years of your life wiped out."
I shook my head. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream. Any moment now, I'd wake up in Gerald Field with all my friends around me and all of this would be over.
"Dr. Heyerdahl," a nurse interrupted. "You told us to contact the patient's wife? Well, she's in the building. And she's not happy."
I was married? Not only was I now an adult with a quarter century of memories lost, I had a wife that I didn't even know? Who could it possibly be?
A loud voice could be heard booming down the hallway outside. "ALL RIGHT, ONE SIDE! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT! DOTING WIFE COMING THROUGH! OUTTA MY WAY, GEEKBAIT! TRUST ME, YOU DO NOT WANNA SLOW ME DOWN, BUCKO!"
Oh no. Oh, no, no no no no.
This… this wasn't possible.
A tall, blonde woman forced her way past the nurse. "Arnold! I got here as fast as I could! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"
She was older. The features were a bit softer. The trademark unibrow and pigtails were gone, and the pink bow now held a ponytail in place. But the woman's identity was unmistakable. I'd only heard one person ever utter the phrase "Outta my way, Geekbait!"
This woman, unmistakably, was my bane, my nemesis, the blight of my existence. This woman was Helga G. Pataki.
And this woman was, apparently, my wife.
That was all I could take. My brain had reached its limit. I could no longer deal with this. As she reached for me, I simply gave up trying to process any of it and keeled over, hoping the next world I woke up in would make some sense.
A.N.: Well, that's our first chapter! Next time, we'll be switching to Helga's perspective as we find out just what happened to Arnold and see how he adjusts to this new reality he finds himself in! Join us next chapter for "Menace of the Maniacal Memory Master!"