Revised Disclaimer: I, Chinyere, under my pen name, Chinyemagne, hereby acknowledge that I do not own the rights to Hey Arnold! nor do I own those of the characters that are referenced within this story. And, much to my dismay, I don't own you, either. However, it is likely that original characters will be created and portrayed within this text, and yes, I own them. Be cool, stay in school. Thank you.

Note to readers: I previously posted half of this story on ff.net, however I never finished it. I decided to revise it and finish it, so let me know what you think. It's just a regular, HA! adventure, so yeah. ¡Diviértase mucho!

The Reel Thing

"Okay, we're here. X marks the spot," Arnold said, leading the rest of the gang to the location of the modest plot with a worn marker under a tree deep in Elk Island. The group that followed gasped, and hushed murmurs could be heard as they gazed at the mysterious sight. From the group emerged Gerald, eyes half-closed in usual nonchalance, with Sid following closely behind him. They all knew what was going to come next.

"The Legend of Leppy, the good luck Leprechaun, has weathered a storm of criticism throughout the years since his death, but the memory of the Scotch-Irish enigma has lingered on for over five school terms, five and a half if you count the semester. And, our own Gerald, the keeper of tales and mysteries, will share his story with us today," Sid said, standing back from the group and letting Gerald take center stage. "Take it, Gerald."

Gerald did not hesitate, as he stood on a decaying stump of an old tree, long felled, clearing his throat quietly before facing the crowd of his peers. "Long ago, over twenty years ago, in a place unknown to many…except maybe to Peapod Kid, who vacations there annually," Gerald pointed at Peapod Kid before continuing, "a living miracle was born. His mother named him…Leopold, but as the child grew to hate that name, as any one of us in his position may, he began to go by the name Leppy, the name now and forever synonymous with magic and luck.

"Leppy and his family moved to our town, which was just beginning its struggle through the unfortunate fashion craze of the eighties, when he was only five years old. Immediately upon entering PS 118, it was apparent that Leppy was special---more than special. He was supernatural. For the next four years, Leppy astounded the neighborhood kids, parents, teachers and passers-by alike, with his 'lucky charms.' By the age of nine, he claimed to be a full-fledged Leprechaun, and if it were only an act, it was convincing enough. Several of Leppy's contemporaries have testified to him having found a field of four leaf clovers and finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."

Gerald allowed for the routine gasps of astonishment before he continued with the story. "It was apparent that Leppy was unusually lucky, even if the whole Leprechaun thing was a little bit sketch. Up until his sixteenth year, Leppy had all the 'luck' in the world, although having the characteristic height stunt of a Leprechaun. He could have a date whenever he wanted, he had no curfew, an endless supply of money and, most of all, didn't have to attend school if he didn't want to," Gerald said, smiling as the murmurs of conversation grew louder as the story progressed.

"Well, Leppy was aware of all the luck that he had acquired, and he was convinced that his living was a divine right bestowed upon him from the omniscient force above. In other words, he believed he was invincible, immortal. One thing led to another, and that very year, his sixteenth year, he found himself in a bet. One of his 'cronies,' whose name has not been pronounced to this day, bet him that if he violated all the laws of superstition, that his luck would run out," Gerald then swooped closer to his audience, adding an air of fright to the story. Inward gasps could be heard.

"For the next two months, Leppy utilized the well known script of Superstitions and Urban Legends, etched into time by people like us, and was on a mission. And yea, as the weeks passed, he claimed victory over each task. Running under ladders, stepping on cracks, breaking mirrors, letting hundreds of black cats cross his path and…removing moles." This time, the gang really gasped, some uttering 'Ew, gross' at the thought. Gerald cracked his knuckles, preparing to end the story. "The absolute last thing on Leppy's list was…drinking a carbonated beverage and eating pop rocks at the same time." This time, the group really gasped, knowing that legend fairly well. "People begged and warned Leppy against it…his own girlfriend cried after him, but it was hopeless. In order to carry out this last act in peace, he came to this very spot on Elk Island, and was witnessed only by Sheena's uncle Earl.

"Leppy, having full faith in himself, took the package of pop rocks, and dumped the whole thing in his mouth, and then took a huge mouthful of soda. What happened next is what makes the story all the more mysterious," Gerald paused, and scanned the audience, catching Phoebe's eye. He paused to raise his eyebrows at her, and she blushed bashfully, and giggled. Helga, standing next to her, rolled her eyes. "Leppy reportedly never left Elk Island. For weeks, he was missing, and search parties were organized on land, in the water, on the island itself, and after about a month, everyone pretty much gave up hope. The only trace left of Leppy, is this," Gerald said, stepping off of the stump and pacing towards the small plot.

"Earl found this apparent grave sight a few weeks after Leppy's disappearance, with a marker with an inscription scratched onto it with a stone. Although the message is long worn off by the torrential rains of that year, it is said to have read, 'Here lies the memory of Leppy, leaving a pot of gold to anyone who ventures to find it.' When Earl contacted the authorities about this sight, and the grave was dug up, there were found no remains, only the clothes Leppy was wearing, and a sprinkling of gold dust," Gerald said, drawing out his words at the end. The wide-eyed crowd continued to stare at Gerald, waiting to see how this story would end.

Gerald knew he had his audience, so he wrapped it up. "Some say he was just an ordinary kid with an unusually strong accent, who wanted to play a few pranks on his buddies. Others believe he was someone truly blessed with a gift he didn't fully appreciate until the water ran dry. Others say he was a divine being sent down to teach us all a little something about life," Gerald let the comment hang in air, as if contemplating it. "But, most everyone wants to believe that somewhere on this island is Leppy's pot of gold that he promised, and that it is ours for the taking. But, as it has not been found yet, the Legend of Leppy the good luck Leprechaun…continues. The end."

As usual, Gerald was showered with the usual praise and applause as he descended from his high-ranking position as the keeper of tales, and Sid and Stinky patted him on the back. "Great job, Gerald," Sid said, as the three walked towards the edge of the crowd where Arnold was standing.

"Yeah, Gerald, I mus' say I do enjoy ur spirited yarns ever' now 'n' then," Stinky said, his eyes still dreamy from imagining the story. Once Gerald met up with Arnold, they exchanged the ritual handshake.

Arnold smiled with anticipation, looking back at the rest of the gang as they gathered around him. "Okay, Gerald, let's do it. Who's in with us?" Arnold asked, rallying the group. The group roared with excitement with a shout that echoed through half the island. "Well then, I say we get our coin finders and our shovels and get to work!" Arnold said, once again arousing a loud response from the crowd. As usual, Helga loomed on the outskirts of the crowd, scowling. She entered the crowd on that note and pushed Curly to the side.

"One side, moron!" she said, as Curly fell to the ground. He snarled at Helga, showing his teeth but not daring to protest her cruelties. "Well, well, well, I see the Football Head and Tall Hair Boy are trying to weasel us into another one of their schemes. And man, this is the most goofy, incredible one I've heard yet. I mean, Leppy the good luck Leprechaun and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, come on," Helga said in a mocking manner.

Phoebe, always right behind Helga, had her own opinion. "I don't know, Helga, from the manner in which Gerald accounted for all of the facts of the fabled tale, with all of the eyewitness accounts and the evidence that we have all witnessed on more than one occasion, it would be reasonable to conclude that this legend is more than credible, that it is the actual truth," Phoebe said, adjusting her glasses.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and we all know why you agree so wholeheartedly, Phoebs," Helga said, eyeing Phoebe and silencing her effectively, as she hung her head.

"Come on, Helga, don't you believe in anything?" Arnold asked, leaning on a shovel that he had picked up from the ground.

"Well, I used to believe that bouncing spit balls off of your football head would bring me free tickets to Wrestlemania, but you see that ain't happening," Helga said sarcastically, folding her arms.

Arnold sighed. "I'm serious, Helga. Don't you get any joy out of believing something, even if it may not be acutally true, but going to find out for yourself?"

Helga laughed abruptly. "Ha, please! I don't go for all of that childhood innocence and wonderment stuff. In all honesty, I'd rather have my brain fried in an iron skillet." That comment somehow disrupted Eugene's sensitive stomach and, grasping his mouth, he began to run towards the shore. Once he arrived there, he could be heard vomiting, and the rest of the kids cringed with the sound. "Okay, that was just kinda gross," Helga commented.

"I'm okay."

Gerald spoke up. "Aw, come on, Arnold. If she doesn't want to do it, she doesn't have to do it…she can up and leave if she wants to," he said, glaring at Helga who tossed her head indignantly. "But, she's not going to keep us from doing something that we want. I don't even know why she bothered to come."

"Yeah, I don't know why I bothered to come, either. Come on Phoebs, let's go throw rocks in the river," Helga commanded, grabbing Phoebe by the arm and leading her towards the shore. Phoebe looked hesitantly back at Arnold and Gerald and shrugged.

"Coming," she chimed obediently, although removing her arm from Helga's grasp and going at her own pace.

Arnold, as usual not being able to bear injustice, spoke up. "Wait a minute, Helga, you can't do this. If Phoebe really wanted to stay, she should stay, instead of you dragging her behind you to be your own company. You're alone with your decision not to do this, and you have to handle your decision alone, instead of dragging others behind you," Arnold said, signaling for Phoebe to return. Before running back to the group, Phoebe looked at Helga for approval.

Helga finally threw her hands up in the air. "Fine, since you put it that way Football Head, I guess I'll go along with your little excursion. But, don't say I didn't warn you when you don't find anything," Helga said, as she walked slowly back to the group as Phoebe ran ahead.

"Whatever you say, Helga," Arnold moaned.

Helga, catching up with Arnold and Gerald, walking beside Arnold, laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised if it started raining or something," she said. And, as if it were a cue, small drops of rain began to fall. One landed on Harold's nose.

"Hey, what was that on my nose!" he exclaimed, as he led the group deeper into the woods. "And one on my lip…and on my fingers…and on my arm…and on my…" Before Harold could continue his discovery, the clouds burst forth with huge raindrops, which quickly began to soak the kids.

Helga looked up at the sky, and then smirked down at Arnold. "Well, if this isn't uncanny, wouldn't you say, Arnoldo."

The kids began to complain as they sought shelter in the cave of Elk Island. Over all of their complaints could be heard Rhonda. "I can't believe we got stuck in a rain storm. And after you said it wasn't going to rain, Nadine!" she shouted at her friend. "Do you realize that I am wearing my new, designer boots. They're going to get drenched now, and, I mean, I've just bought them!"

"Ah, put a sock in it Princess," Helga shouted.

---

"Okay, and cut! That's a wrap, people!" Arnold said after a few seconds of awkward silence. The uncomfortable silence was relieved as the kids began to talk again.

Mr. Simmons emerged from the outside, and shook the excess water off of the camera. "Good job, class, and may I say that I am impressed by your extreme patience today under these…um…slightly unexpected circumstances. I believe that, with all of you're personal efforts and your unique, individual talents, this project will turn out…"

Helga interrupted. "Yeah, right, Mr. Simmons. So, did you get the whole thing?"

"Well, Helga, yes, I filmed the whole thing, and nothing's wrong with the camera this time…"

Helga interrupted again. "Okay, that's all I want to know. That means filming is done for today, and you can all haul yourselves home!"

Rhonda folded her arms indignantly. "And it's about time, Helga. I mean, look, I have hat hair!" she said, lifting up her hat and revealing the boarder she had on her forehead and hair.

Harold also spoke up. "Yeah, and it wasn't supposed to rain, either. What's up with that!" The rest of the gang agreed loudly.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Well, I have no control over the rain, doi! But, when situations like this come up in the future, you ad-lib. Like, for instance, Eugene wasn't supposed to barf in the middle of my line, but that added a pretty good touch, right?" Helga said, as Eugene crawled into the cave, more soaked than the rest.

"I'm okay."

Stinky scratched his head. "Wait a minute, fellers, I'm confused. What is this ad-libbin' that Helga's goin' on about?"

Helga sighed in exasperation. "Do I have to tell you morons everything! Crimeny!"

"I'll tell them, Helga," Phoebe stepped in, taking off of her glasses to wipe the raindrops off of them. "Ad-libbing is a method of improvisation that is often employed in the theatrical arts, more often in comedies and untraditional roles than in the tragedies of Shakespeare and of the classical works such as those of Homer. When one ad-libs, they extemporaneously insert their own personal flair into the dialogue or into the stage movements whenever and wherever they feel the insertion is most appropriate. The word ad-lib is an abbreviated form of the Latin ad libitum, meaning at one's pleasure. Some of the most adept performers at the art of ad-libbing include…"

"Okay, okay Phoebs, sheesh! I think they get the picture. Anyway, let's get out of here while the rain is letting up," Helga said, leading the group of kids out of the cave, following Mr. Simmons to Earl's motor boat.

As Helga marched towards Earl's boat, the other kids in her class followed closely behind her. Sheena, who usually didn't utter a word to Helga, ran to catch up with her. "Helga, I think you are doing a fantastic job with the project, like Mr. Simmons said. I believe that perhaps you have found your natural forte," she said, clasping her hands together.

Helga smirked. "Well Sheena, it's good to see that somebody appreciates all I've done," Helga said, not turning back to look at Sheena.

"Well, Helga, I thought, since you haven't finished writing the screenplay and everything, that maybe you would need, I don't know, a little help coming up with the rest of the story…" Sheena suggested.

"Actually Sheena," Helga began, cutting Sheena off and glaring at her out of the corner of her eye. "I have the whole thing figured out. I just have to write it down on paper and hand it to you guys the next time we film. No problem."

"…because, actually, I had some pretty good ideas about where it could go." Sheena continued. "Like how about, when we actually look for the pot of gold, we discover how badly polluted Elk Island really is and try to launch a project to…"

"Nope," Helga said flatly, picking up her pace to avoid Sheena.

Sid then caught up to Helga. "Yeah Helga. What if you actually let us find the pot of gold, and we get all upset with each other when we can't decide how to split it?"

Helga glared at Sid. "You're talking to me, Hat Boy?"

"Or," Harold said, as Sid backed off, "we could have someone like Arnold become the new Leppy, and have him jumping on clouds and stuff!" Harold suggested excitedly, putting his arm on Helga's shoulder.

Helga grunted and flung Harold's hand off of her shoulder. "Sure, that'll happen…when you fly, Pig Boy!"

"How's 'bout we git folks kidnapped by aliens an' stuff an' we fin' out that Leppy was actually one 'a' dem aliens er somethin," Stinky said from the back of the crowd.

"Nope."

Eugene, getting over his nausea, emerged out of the crowd. "What if we make it into a musical, where we all get to know each other really well and bond and…"

"Uh-uh."

"I say we get off of this icky island and go somewhere dry and focus on something else other than stupid urban legends," Rhonda said, folding her arms.

"No!"

Nadine sped up to Helga, kicking a rock before beginning. "I like the idea of using the legends, but, what if we used a different one, like the one about the…"

"I don't think so, Nadine," Helga jeered.

Gerald stepped up, putting his arm around Helga. Helga eyed him dubiously, stopping in his tracks. "Helga, baby, how about this one. We get stranded on the island, have to live here for a few months, kinda like a survivor thing, and just when we decide who's gonna be eaten first, we find the gold? Isn't that story solid?" Gerald said, backing off from Helga and grinning.

"No, no, no!" Helga said, exploding before she scanned the group of kids. "I am the screenwriter, and this is my job. Mr. Simmons gave me the job of writing the whole story and thinking it up and everything. You are the actors, and the best boys, the prop setters and the cameramen. I am in total control of the story, it was my idea to do this anyway, and when you all agreed to participate, you agreed to work under my conditions!" Helga said, turning violently again to get a view of everyone in the class. "I was put in charge, so I run this. I can call the shots and I can pull the plug. I rule! And if anyone has a problem with that, Old Betsy will take a message and answer you after she's done writing the script. Got it!" After Helga's monologue, there was a silence. Everyone looked form face to face. "Good." Helga said, walking the rest of the way to the ship and boarding it first.

As the rest of the kids silently got on the ship, Earl took notice to their demeanors. "Arg, ye seems to be a li'l bit down than when ye farst arrived," he acknowledged.

Helga waived a hand at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just make sure we get moving, okay? I'm missing the match between Belchin' Benny and The Anomaly."

There is more to come. In the meantime, R&R, thanks. J