S1, E2: "The Little Pink Book" / "Field Trip"

Welcome back, everybody! These last two weeks were kind of a rough time (for my laptop, Blogger, and me), so I understand if you're upset with me at the moment. But know that I'm still here and that this blog will continue.

So, tonight, we have our first official Helga episode. Trivia: Did you know Craig Bartlett's wife was the one who came up with the idea to have Helga be secretly in love with Arnold? Great move on her part, because Hey Arnold! most certainly wouldn't be the same without Helga's infatuation. And then we wouldn't have episodes like, "The Little Pink Book."



"The Little Pink Book"

In the middle of class, Helga throws spitballs at Arnold because she has nothing better to do than piss him off. After two spitballs, she gets bored, and decides to open her little pink book and craft a new poem. She had actually hid it inside a cut-out portion of her math book, and will definitely get into a lot of trouble at the end of the year for doing that. Textbooks are expensive, man. Helga's lucky she's only in elementary school where textbooks are free. (Hint for college students: rent them out on reserve in your library! Save a bundle of $$$!)

She writes a new, purple poem about Arnold. As she's narrating the poem in her head, the scenes follow along. Though I must say, this is pretty decent writing for a fourth grader:

"Your eyes, like two green jellybeans
Are pools I want to bathe in.
In the classroom, my heart doth swoon
And yet, I want to beat your face in."

The bell rings, signaling the end of school. The kids all rush onto the bus, but Helga knocks them aside because she is a little bitch, and takes out some big ass scissors and just casually snips a piece of Arnold's hair and walks to the back. Damn, why would she just have a pair of scissors that large in her bag anyway?

After Helga takes a big whiff of his lock of hair, she places it in her pink book and holds it in with a band-aid that was covering a big, nasty scab or something on her arm. That is honestly disgusting. Yet why do I find myself laughing at this?

She begins a new poem, an acrostic poem spelling out the letters of her name and with things about Arnold for each letter:

H is for the head I'd like to punt
E is for every time I see the little runt
L is longing for our firstest kiss
G is for how good that longing is
A is for Arnold, of course... duh!

The bus stops in front of Helga's house, and she gets up to leave. While pushing Arnold aside and shoving her book into her bag, she doesn't realize that her little pink book slips out of her hand, misses the bag, and lands right on top of Gerald's stack of books. How she didn't see or feel that happening, I'll never know, but this is the inciting incident that kicks off the episode--Helga's darkest secrets, wet dreams, and erotic poems are now in the worst-possible hands.

Of course, neither Arnold nor Gerald sees the book falling, they don't realize it's Helga's. And when they get off the bus, Gerald starts reading it, and laughs at one particular goopy poem Helga has written about Arnold. It's apparently so humiliating and silly that the entire neighborhood is laughing along with Gerald as he reads it. Jeez, do these people have nothing better to do than laugh at a poor nine-year-old kid who barely even knows what a girl is yet?

Even Arnold's Grandpa Phil joins in the revelries, to which Arnold grabs the book and heads back to the boarding house in a flustered huff.

And then we cut to Helga, who just now finds out that she practically dropped the book in Arnold's hands:

Arnold and Gerald try to figure out who is responsible for writing all those poems, so they decide to do some investigation. First, they list off the names of some of the girls at the bus stop, including Arnold's 6th grade crush, Ruth MacDougal. And when that gets them nowhere, they enlist Abner to sniff out the DNA on the book for them. Abner must have smelled something really dank, because he makes a sickened face and takes off running down the street. As Arnold and Gerald chase him, Helga is seen climbing Arnold's fire escape in an attempt to retrieve her book back.

Helga falls, quite literally, into Arnold's room through his sky window. Realizing she's in her love's sleeping chamber, she absorbs every bit of Arnold she can, including sniffing his pillow. Ick. So, she spots her book on the top of his bookcase (why Arnold put it there, I really don't know). But then Arnold and Gerald come back so she has to hide in the closet.

And then, Arnold and Gerald get down to investigating by comparing fingerprints and stuff from the girls at the bus stop (they had gathered their used items somehow) and start comparing them to evidence from the book.

So, after all that "investigating," they conclude that the owner of the book is a female who lives in the city and is of almost any age. Wow, I'm sure the producers of NCIS would be banging on their doors begging for their skills.

So, the next thing the boys do is try to compare the handwriting to those of the girls in the yearbook. This takes all afternoon, by the way, and once they reach Helga's name, they laugh their asses off.

Helga overhears them laughing, and grunts in defense. "How DARE they laugh at the possibility of me loving Arnold?" To be fair, Helga does everything in her power to make it known that she's totally "not" in love with Arnold, so I totally understand why Arnold and Gerald would piss their pants laughing. They keep hearing Helga making noises in the closet, but are totally clueless and decide it must be coyotes or elephants or other animals you'd casually find in any city.

Arnold and Gerald decide to take a break, but then decide it's too late for them to be walking around the city alone at night so they decide to call it quits for the night. Gerald leaves, and Helga makes a call to her best friend, Phoebe, to ask to call Helga's parents to say she's sleeping over at Phoebe's for the night (as there's no way for Helga to sneak out now.) What I don't understand is how Arnold doesn't hear Helga talking, yet he can hear all her groans and grunts. Even though Helga is whispering to Phoebe in a quiet room, Arnold must be as deaf as Helen Keller not to hear that.

The next morning, Arnold flies out of bed, gets dressed, and shoves the pink book in his pocket before Helga even has a moment to remember where she is. And then when Arnold leaves, Helga falls out of the closet looking like she didn't get any sleep.

I can guarantee you she was watching him sleep.

Grandpa asks Arnold if he ever find out who wrote all those mushy poems, and Arnold replies no, and that he wishes whoever did should go "jump up a rope." The hell? Is Arnold alluding that the girl who wrote those poems should hang herself? You know, jump up a rope, noose, jumping off the chair...? That's pretty dark just because Arnold is having a hell of a time figuring out the mystery girl.

And then Grandpa tells Arnold that it's pretty rad that someone obsesses over him so much. If only they knew the half of it. Perhaps this is why people say "ignorance is bliss."

Before school begins, Arnold sits outside reading Helga's nastiest poems to the kids, and they're laughing up a storm. Helga drags behind, knocking Stinky into a garbage can after ironically asking if she slept in a closet since she looks like shit.

It turns out, Helga got there right at the last possible second, because Arnold was just about to read the last page of the book. The one with Helga's name signed at the end. In a desperate attempt to save her bitch reputation, Helga rips the page right out of the book, shoves it in her mouth, and spits it out into a giant spitball to throw at Arnold.

And that's the end of that. Why Arnold didn't question if Helga was the owner of the book at this point I'll never know. But hey, ignorance is bliss! At least she got to keep the lock of Arnold's hair attached to her blood-stained bandage. Yuck.

Meanwhile, Stinky is still stuck in the trash can, and rolls away as the screen fades to black.



"Field Trip"

Today, the class is going on a field trip to the aquarium. Fun! I love the aquarium. So many neat fish, animals, and adorable plushies in the gift shop.

And then Harold impersonates a whale by gargling some milk and squirting it out his nose onto Arnold and Gerald.

We learn that Arnold had the chicken pox last time his class went to the aquarium, so he's never actually been there before. All the kids then talk about all the awesome known animals that are there, including Lockjaw.

We're spared the details for a moment as the curiosity builds. The kids make it to the aquarium, and by golly, if that's not the coolest-looking aquarium I've ever seen, then I'm sorely missing out. I've only been to the New York Aquarium in Coney Island and the Vancouver Aquarium, and neither have a dome with fish and aquatic beauties hovering over guests in an captivating, ocean blue dome.

The security guard gathers the kids around to explain the rules of the aquarium. They're pretty standard stuff--no feeding the fish, no tapping on the glass... except no sushi chefs are allowed either, and then the camera pans over to a very disappointed Japanese sushi chef. Why was he even allowed in there, then?

"Aww, how else am I going to get ingredients for my homemade hoshomaki?"

The security guard also tells the kids no skateboards are allowed, so he takes one kid's and throws it into the office with all the other skateboards. Hey, that's straight-up theft.

Arnold inquires about Lockjaw, and instead of getting an answer to what he actually is, the kids rave about him and his greatness the way Internet dweebs praise Chuck Norris. This is a common trope where someone praises someone or something so intensely that when we, the viewers, actually get to see the all-holy thing, we're solely disappointed. Which brings me to the next scene:

The kids finally decide to go see Lockjaw, and as they crowd around his tank, we realize he's a giant tortoise. He climbs out of the dirty water, looking old and miserable, and his shell is covered in graffiti. The hell?

What kind of abusive, neglectful aquarium is this? It makes SeaWorld look good. Where are the people who are supposed to be taking care of this poor creature? Let me clue you in on something: if a zoo or aquarium is abusive or neglectful towards its animals, they make sure not to let it show in front of the paying guests. They do that shit in private. Because guests will be upset and guests will report the aquarium to the proper authorities. Now I'm curious about that sushi chef--perhaps the fish would be better off eaten than swimming through the sludge of this horrible aquarium.

The kids all complain about how Lockjaw isn't cool anymore, so they yell at him and throw things at him. Fucking Harold throws his smoothie at Lockjaw, who realizes he's not wanted, and crawls back into the water. Poor baby. Arnold is about to burst into tears from this bullshit.

He walks away from his shitty classmates and heads down to the viewing area at the bottom of Lockjaw's tank. There's a bunch of garbage littering the floor of the tank and the water is all murky, so it's a lot worse than Arnold initially thought. Lockjaw swims to the bottom, and he and Arnold have a little bonding moment that just tugs on my heartstrings like a harp.

What an awesome tortoise.

As Arnold gets back home to the boarding house, everything around him reminds him of Lockjaw, like the Campfire Lass (obvious Girl Scout parody) selling chocolate turtles and Grandpa showing off his turtle green turtleneck. Heck, even the pattern in his carpet reminds him of Lockjaw.

Grandma Gertie (or Pookie, as Grandpa calls her) brings Arnold a sandwich for dinner, and notices Arnold is upset about the state of Lockjaw and his tank. Here's the thing about Grandma--she's kind of, err, eccentric. Like the schizophrenic kind of eccentric. You'll see in every episode, she's either in a costume or in high spirits about some minor event. It's rather adorable, because old people are awesome, especially Arnold's grandparents.

So, Arnold starts telling Grandma about Lockjaw, and Grandma gets super pissed (mostly because he's old and being treated like a trash can). So, Grandma decides that they must bust him out of that aquarium and return him to the ocean where he belongs.

Grandma outfits Arnold in an oversized red sweater, herself in cat burglar gear, and they take the Packard all the way to the aquarium. Grandma hands Arnold a bag of knitting needles and yarn as his "gear," which provokes Arnold to ask Grandma if she even has a driver's license since she clearly has no idea what she's doing, to which Grandma basically replies "lol nope."

"Grandma, do you have a driver's license?" - Arnold
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" - Grandma

They get to the aquarium, and Grandma starts playing spy as she smears the signature war paint on hers and Arnold's cheeks with charcoal (to complete the look), and then grapples up a five-foot wall. Honestly, what kind of medication is Grandma on? Or, rather, how much of it is she taking?

Interesting to know that this show's backgrounds were colored with colored pencils.

Grandma sneaks by the security post, which is vacant, so she and Arnold head into the aquarium and to Lockjaw's tank. I wonder where all the security cameras are. Surely they'd capture Arnold and Grandma moving about in there. Who knows how many people have tried to sneak into the aquarium to set these animals free? On their way, they pass the security guard failing to feed a penguin in a tiny tank. I'm not sure what's going on in this scene. It looks like the penguin is being fed food he doesn't like, so he keeps throwing it up. Seriously, this aquarium needs to be shut down.

Arnold unlocks the extremely unsecured lock that's keeping Lockjaw in his tank (I bet even Lockjaw could let himself out by just lifting the metal piece between the gates.) Once Grandma gets a good look at Lockjaw, she shakes her head at how poorly-maintained he is. She and Arnold give him a good bubbly scrub down, which makes Lockjaw start to trust them a little bit more.

Grandma decides that they must release Lockjaw from the aquarium, but Arnold says it's illegal. What, with the arrests, court orders, and bannings from every aquarium and zoo in the state, of course it's illegal. But apparently, not taking care of animals isn't illegal. Grandma then manages to convince Arnold to do it in one sentence, that it's human decency to release animals from their captive cages, so they try to figure out how to lift him so they can get him out.

Arnold warns Grandma not to get too close to Lockjaw's mouth, and then Lockjaw bites off her hand.

What a nice, clean bite. No blood, no fainting.

That would be insane if that really happened. But no. Grandma's sleeves are just too long. Why she screamed like that, I guess just to tease Arnold.

They continue to struggle lifting the giant turtle, until Arnold gets an idea--he grabs a skateboard from the closet and use it to wheel Lockjaw down the hallway and outside.

Okay, wait--if Arnold and Grandma can't even lift Lockjaw, how did they manage to get him on the skateboard? And wouldn't the skateboard snap under Lockjaw's massive weight? And wheeling a giant tortoise would not be as easy as pushing an empty wagon down the hallway.

I love how Lockjaw is emotionless throughout this entire episode. It's like, "Oh, people are throwing things at me. Meh." "Oh, look, some wide-headed kid and a crazy old lady are pushing me down the hall on this wheeled device. Ho-hum." I love turtles. I love Lockjaw.

Arnold and Grandma wheel past the security guard again, who is clearly a brain-dead idiot. Not only did he not hear the sound of a 400-pound tortoise rolling down the hallway and two pairs of running footsteps, he also is stupid enough to tease a goddamn shark to the point where he falls into the tank and gets eaten alive. No, seriously.

I just love this next shot:

I love everything about this screenshot.

They finally make it out, and it's morning by the time they make it to the docks to set Lockjaw free. They push him over the edge, and Lockjaw lands with a splat in the mucky, dirty city water. So, they released Lockjaw from one dirty environment to another. But at least here, he has a chance of making it to the cleaner areas of the ocean.

Arnold and Grandma watch as Lockjaw swims further and further out into the ocean. Meanwhile, he is still cold and emotionless, but I think he's grateful for escaping that hellhole of the aquarium.

But hey, what about all the other animals in the aquarium? Aren't they going to be rescued too? And what happened to the security guard? I'm sure all this will be the week's top news story--missing tortoise and security guard. The only clues are an open office with hundreds of skateboards, charcoal dust, and a sick penguin.



Lessons Learned From These Episodes: Don't sign your name on anything potentially humiliating; free and rescue neglected zoo animals with no repercussions.

S1, E1: "Downtown as Fruits" / "Eugene's Bike"

Hey guys, sorry about having to delay the kick-off to the Hey Arnold! Reviewed blog. Poor time management alongside family issues caused a severe rift, and I apologize if anyone feels like they've been waiting all this time for nothing. It's totally unfair to you guys and 100% my fault, so I hope to make it up to you by posting this at my earliest convenience.

If you'd like, I'll send you all complimentary chocolates--but that sentiment sounds more like a bribe than an apology. Oh, well. More chocolates for me.

Anyhow, welcome to Hey Arnold! Reviewed, the sequel blog to As Told by Ginger: Reviewed! I'm excited to delve deep into the nostalgia of cartoons past once again, and I'm hoping you'll enjoy these reviews as much as I enjoy writing them. A quick bit of trivia: Hey Arnold! was one of my favorite Nicktoons as a kid, and still is to this very day. I've come to find that if I enjoyed a show as a child and still enjoy it today, then there's definitely something of merit. Not many shows age well, but the ones that do definitely deserve to be enjoyed again. I can't wait to talk about all my favorite characters, moments, and episodes that prove that this is truly one of the greatest cartoons of all time.

I don't want to make this intro too long, so without further adieu, here we go!


"Downtown as Fruits"

We open this episode with Arnold fantasizing about surfing on a dinosaur-laden beach. I've always wondered what it would be like if we brought dinosaurs back from extinction. If we could, I'd only bring back the herbivores--we'd be like a buffet to the carnivores.

The first vocal character we're introduced to is Helga Pataki--loud, brash, and a natural leader. She shakes Arnold out of his fantasy to tell him to get the hell off the stage because it's not his scene for the school play. Helga is leading the kids in a fruit-themed play for some reason (why there isn't a teacher there, I don't know). Well, I don't know if she's leading so much as bossing the other kids around to get the scene done her way. Everyone's pretty tired, but Helga doesn't give a fuck.

I must say--the animation style used in the earlier seasons is drastically different from the later episodes. These episodes look like they were drawn with chalk or a felt-tip marker. And some of the voice actors haven't quite found their characters just yet. Harold, for instance, has a slightly deeper voice here than in later episodes.

Helga wants to make sure everyone gets their parts down to a T, so she demands that everyone comes half an hour early, otherwise she'll beat the shit out of them. Well, then, Madam Anger Issues.

Sometime later, Arnold and his best friend, Gerald, leave Arnold's boarding house dressed in their costumes for the play. Fruits. Arnold is a banana and Gerald is a strawberry. Both of them look like they want to shoot themselves. Well, I don't blame them. They have a child tyrant as a play director and have to trek halfway across the city in those suits. You know--in front of other people.

These kids are 9--how are they allowed to walk around the city by themselves?

Nah, but to be honest, those costumes are great. Arnold should keep that costume so that in 12 years, he could attend his first Banana Bar Crawl.

The boys hop on the bus, and are immediately greeted with several confused eyes as they push their way to the back of the bus. After the bus starts moving again, Gerald gets an idea. He suggests that he and Arnold ride the bus past the school and just not do the play to spite Helga.

Naturally, Arnold is skeptical because he knows if they don't show up, they'll ruin the play. But he really hated how Helga humiliated him on stage, and that she basically spat on everyone else, so he's like, "Fuck it," and lets the bus drive on by.

And then once the play is about to begin and Helga finds out that the fruits never showed up:

One trope that's unique to Hey Arnold! is whenever Helga screams at the top of her lungs, Arnold seems to be the only one who hears it. It's almost like it's intuition or something. Anyway, Gerald and Arnold decide to take the bus to the end of the line so that they can turn around and take it back in the direction of familiar civilization. Unfortunately, the end of the line is the bus depot, so they're stuck there until morning. I don't see why they'd be stuck there-- most city buses run 24/7, so why wouldn't there be a bus that goes back the other direction? They might have to wait an hour or so, but I doubt that particular bus was the last one running until morning.

So, what does this mean? They are stranded downtown... as fruits. Hence the episode title.

Their next move is for Gerald to call his parents to come pick them up. I bet they'd come, after opening a can of whoop-ass on Gerald for traveling to an unfamiliar part of town by themselves. They go up to the payphone (this episode aired in 1996, remember?) and see that the cord is cut, so that's out. I mean, it's a shame there aren't other payphones a few blocks away or in the bus depot. 

Suddenly, some shady-looking creep drives past the boys, tosses them a bag, and drives away. It turns out to be a bag full of cash. Drug money? The most likely possibility. Why else would someone throw someone a bag of cash in an isolated area on a darkened street corner? Naive Arnold just believes this to be a random act of kindness on the druggie's part.

The second Arnold and Gerald leave with the cash, two crackheads in the exact same costumes show up, waiting to accept the money.

*I apologize for the sudden change in snapshot quality--technical difficulties arose.*

Wait a minute--ignoring the wild coincidence, are you telling me that the guy in the car didn't see the glaring difference between two elementary school kids and two thirty-year-old men? Perhaps he never met these guys before, but even then--why wouldn't this guy get a closer look at these boys before throwing them his drug money? They could have been Siberian huskies in fruit costumes, and this guy still would have thrown them the money.

Arnold and Gerald use this money to buy themselves some new threads, and then toss their costumes into the dumpster. Hey, now. I'm sure the school would want those back. Then, they grab some late-night gyros (or are those pitas?) from a stand and kick back at the fact that they're no longer subjecting themselves to the humiliation that is the 4th grade class play.

The play still goes on though. Where are the adults directing this play? Do they not care that two children are missing? Does the rest of the class not care, either? I mean, how can everything run so smoothly when two key ingredients to this food salad are missing? I certainly wouldn't begin a play about Romeo and Juliet with Mercutio missing from backstage.

So, the play is going as well as you'd think, and while Helga stomps around behind the curtain about how her play is ruined, we get to see her very first Arnold-induced soliloquy. Throughout the entire series, in almost every episode with Helga as the focal character, she isolates herself from people for a moment to pull out a heart-shaped locket with Arnold's picture from her dress collar, and recites a poetic soliloquy describing her unrequited love-hate for Arnold. It always begins with a few sentences insulting Arnold and the ground he walks on, following through with purple-prosey lovey-dovey stuff not even Stephenie Meyer could top, and ending with a trilled sigh. And a back-hand punch in Brainy's face, because Brainy always seems to be stalking Helga and breathing down her neck.

Arnold and Gerald find themselves at Ernie's Pool Hall having a grand old time. They dance, shoot some pool (extremely well, I might add), and order a round of sodas for everyone because they're too young to drink. I wonder why no one is trying to kick these kids out or call their parents to come pick them up. Despite the fact that they're the life of the night, the druggie and drug dealers (who just so happen to be in that very same pool hall) discover the mix-up, and chase down the two kids.

Arnold and Gerald hide out with the neighborhood psychic, Zamboni Jones, who's an obvious charlatan. You know those "fake" psychics you see on TV where they guess obvious information about the characters and provide no real advice or information? Yeah, Zamboni Jones, everybody:

Honestly, what other job would allow you to sit around and eat Chee all day?

Zamboni Jones waves his gelatinous arms in the air and asks the very vague question, "Is there someone you have harmed in the past?" to which Gerald thinks of Helga. Realizing that Zamboni Jones would encourage the boys to go back to the school and finish up the play, Gerald plays dumb by pretending not to know of anyone he has "hurt." Ha, what a little ass.

Arnold then realizes that he's ruining Helga's play too, so he pulls Gerald out of the creepy fat man's shop and high-tails it back to P.S. 118.

There's a little gag with Zamboni Jones right as Arnold and Gerald leave, in which he pulls off his false cat eyes and is like, "WTF?" in a normal accent.

"Hey! Where's my $3.50? I should have forseen this." - "Zamboni Jones"

Arnold and Gerald use the rest of their money to hail a taxi and get their costumes back from the dump. Oh, and the other guys have been arrested for possession of crystal meth, PCP, LSD, and whatever other substances druggies usually possess. They also stop to help a family whose car has broken down in the middle of the street.

"Wow. People downtown sure are friendly." - Lady

Meanwhile, back at the auditorium, the audience is giving the class shit for putting on such an awful performance. And boy, are these kids brutal. Or should I say resourceful? They managed to find and throw fruits and vegetables to throw at the play, because all audience members snack on some delicious and healthy foods during an elementary school play.

Helga goes back up front and announces that there will be a change in the program, but right as she says it, Arnold and Gerald literally kick her into the stage lights and enthusiastically perform their part, sticking their asses way up into the backs of their costumes, because cartoon logic.

And so, because the boys were able to get back in time before the audience started throwing more dangerous objects, they saved the entire play.

Wow, imagine going home and reflecting on this night:


Dear diary,

Tonight, I became a man. I decided to ride the bus downtown instead of heading straight for my school to perform some neo-Nazi in pigtails' play. Once there, I got thrown a bag of money, enjoyed some delicious pitas, shot some pool with friendly guys, helped get some drug dealers arrested (after being chased by them all over town), and decided to come back to school to end the most kick-ass play of all-time. Tomorrow, I'm off to the African jungles to ride the backs of elephants as we attempt to cross the Nile.


Lessons Learned From This Episode: it's better to just grin and bear it when dealing with people like Helga; people downtown sure are friendly!


"Eugene's Bike"

And speaking of adventures in the African jungles...

Gerald shakes Arnold out of his fantasy so they can cross the street to get to school. Some one-off character named Billy shoves a worm in Arnold's face and tells him to look at it, but Arnold doesn't give a shit. He wants to be back in his fantasy land so he can continue with his jungle expedition--it's clearly more interesting than being subjected to fractions and abstinence and whatever it is fourth graders learn about.

Apparently, it's not just Billy. Everyone on the blacktop seems to be lining up to show Arnold and Gerald their gross finds. Are they show and tell leaders or something? Fourth graders, man. They always want attention.

And then comes Eugene Horowitz on his cool new bike. Ah, Eugene! What's there not to say about our good friend Eugene?

I must say, Eugene's looking pretty fly on that apparently awesome bike (to me, it looks kind of dorky, but whatever). Perhaps it's his confidence. Perhaps it's his I-don't-give-a-flying-fladoodle attitude. Perhaps it's the fact that this bike was given to him as a Flag Day present, as a "hallelujah, you're not dead yet!" sentiment considering how much karma-induced abuse Eugene gets pelted with on a daily basis. This kid is a walking bad-luck charm, in case you don't remember. Everything good that ever happens to Eugene quickly backfires because the gods of Nickelodeon have randomly selected Eugene to be their torture dummy.

Everyone oohs and ahhs at all the cool features of Eugene's bike, including the Mickey Kaline baseball card he attaches to the spokes of his wheel. I don't understand why kids like to do that. Wouldn't the constant flapping sound of the card against the moving spokes get annoying? Anyway, Eugene rides circles around everyone a few times before locking it in place in the bike rack and heading inside for class. Of course, because of Eugene's luck, the lock unlocks itself.

And, here it goes. Arnold stops to tie his shoe by placing his books down on the seats of the other bikes, but apparently, his books are massive enough to knock the securely-locked bikes down--including Eugene's--flinging it forty feet across the schoolyard, and into the street where a street cleaner crushes it, and flings it back onto the sidewalk.

Cartoon logic or not, that should not have happened. The worst-case scenario should have been the bike rolled out of the rack and a few feet behind. How could a bunch of securely-fastened bikes knock an unlocked bike over like that? I mean, I feel bad for Eugene, but imagine how Arnold must feel, all because he had to tie his shoelaces.

Arnold apologizes profusely, and then Eugene screams like a Peanuts character before having his bike hauled away by a bored-looking janitor. Aw, that's heartless.

Arnold expresses his regrets to Gerald, who says it's not Arnold's fault since stuff like this always happens to kids like Eugene. And then Helga accidentally steps on Billy's worm.

Arnold then decides he's going to make it up to Eugene. So, after school, he fishes Eugene's bike out of the garbage and takes it back to the boarding house. He gets his hands on some pretty powerful tools and attempts to fix the bike himself.

Times like these don't need a tiny blue hat.

Was it really necessary to shred the whole thing to pieces in order to fix it, though? I mean, sure, it was crushed pretty badly, but still. Anyway, the next day, Arnold is ready to show the fixed bike to Eugene. And boy, does it look... er... well, at least it's fixed.

Arnold really should open up his own business--being able to do this at 9 years old with no formal training is incredible.

Eugene sweetly thanks Arnold, and he goes riding off down the street to celebrate his newly-fixed bicycle. And then the moment Eugene takes off, Arnold's pet pig, Abner, waddles on by with Eugene's break cable in his mouth. Now, how did that get there?!

And I guess you can see where this is going to go...

"Weee! I'm a bird! I'm a plane! I'm...about to be hurt very badly." - Eugene

Eugene smacks into an open car door, does a few flips, and dies. No, but he does get hurt. Very badly. At least he was wearing a helmet, though.

I guess the fact that he wasn't wearing a helmet wasn't enough, because most of his body is bandaged up, including his abnormally tall head. Now that I think about it, doesn't it kind of look like a tugboat?

Toot toot.

Again, Arnold apologizes for putting Eugene in the hospital and not fixing his bike correctly, but Eugene sincerely believes it wasn't Arnold's fault. Well, it kind of wasn't, considering even if the bike was never broken, Eugene still probably would have crashed into that car door.

Arnold decides to feed Eugene chocolates since his hands are currently immobile, but clumsy him throws the box cover at the bed lever, which somehow causes the wires holding up Eugene's arm and leg to go haywire.

Why do cartoon hospital beds have this contortion setting in the first place?

In trying to rectify his mistake, Arnold somehow ends up making it worse by swinging Eugene around and around the pole, and throwing him back in the bed. Arnold continues to apologize, and you can see on this poor kid's face that everything he touches he fucks up. You know, at this point, I honestly can't tell who's the unlucky one here.

Arnold gets up to leaves and tells Eugene that he's going to make it up to him somehow. And then he leaves. Eugene manages to keep a positive attitude about Arnold trying to bring some luck to Eugene. I really hope he can stay positive considering when Arnold slammed the door shut, he caused the room number to change from 339 to 336, confusing some very idiotic doctors. Sorry about your tonsils in advance, Eugene.

Arnold takes a trip into memory lane, remembering all the times Eugene has had terrible luck, all strangely caused by him. Hmm, perhaps Arnold is actually the harbinger of Eugene's unlucky streak.

Arnold goes to Eugene's house to invite him out for a day of fun the next day. Why didn't he just call him instead of trekking all the way to his house?

So, the next morning comes, and of course Eugene gets himself into a bunch of shenanigans. Also, it's amazing how quickly his injuries have healed. His bones must be so used to breaking that they must have just said, "Fuck it--we ain't solidifying." and just turned them into a softer, more easily-reparable substance. Yes, it sounds stupid, even for cartoon logic, but just go with it.

So, the day of "nothing bad will happen" goes about as well as you think it would.

Despite Arnold thinking today was a disaster, this was one of the best days Eugene has ever had, because everyone else is a dick to him and wouldn't even give Eugene the time of day. At least Arnold can sleep at night knowing he did the best he could.

Lessons Learned From This Episode: the best thing you can do for someone is to just try to be a good friend to them; always make sure your bike is locked before walking away