‘Hey Arnold!’ meets 'Aaahhh! Real Monsters!’. Go as the Muse moves you.
“It was hideous,” he bawled, “HIDEOUS! I can’t go back there. I just can’t.”
Krumm patted his back.
Oblina soothed, “There, there, darling. It can’t be that bad…”
“You didn’t see it,” Ickis whined. “It had horrible green stuff on its face! And its hair was this awful sunshiny shade of YELLOW and it stuck out of its head like… like…” metaphors failed him. “Like Krumm’s armpit hair.”
“She sounds almost like a monster,” said Oblina. She checked the file.
Helga Pataki. Extremely dangerous. Professionals only.
“Are you going for extra credit from the Gromble again?”
“…maybe?”
*
Helga stomped down the street towards the seven eleven. She was on a mission, and she hated the world.
“Hey Helga,” greeted the love of her life, the superb and scintillating Arnold. “Where you going?”
“It’s none of your business, football-head, but I’m going to get some rat poison. Stupid vermin keepin’ me from my beauty sleep…”
“Oh… kay,” managed Arnold. “Have a good one.”
“DON’T TELL ME HOW TO LIVE MY LIFE, FOOTBALL-HEAD!”
The instant he was out of sight and listening range, she sighed. He cared! He actually cared!
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