Note: Thank you all so very, very much for your feedback—it truly means the world to me, and I am infinitely grateful to you guys for taking the time out of your day to let me know your thoughts.

Also, I checked out the Sunset Arms forum link—wow, it's amazing how many fans are still crazy about this 90s masterpiece of a cartoon. Getting psyched for TJM!

Thank you again, and I hope you enjoy this last chapter! :]

Baby steps

We take them when we're new

But also when we're through

Being a baby

"For my second and final performance this evening, I'd like to share one of my very first masterpieces with all you ladies and germs tonight. Whaddya say?"

The crowd clamored.

"I can't hear you, you losers!" she shouted into the mic.

They were sufficiently goaded and yelled even louder, catcalls and all.

The Coco Hut was back in business. Arnold glanced at the newly repaired ceiling—eventually he'd convinced Helga, Phoebe, and Gerald to help him fix it during the break. Of course, Helga mostly directed comfortably from a chair in the corner, Phoebe mostly chastised Helga for not helping, and Gerald mostly served as a glorified spotter while Arnold tried to balance atop a haphazard tower of furniture.

He wasn't sure if their two best friends were quite convinced that giant mutant rats were the culprits of the ceiling collapse, but the nervous laughter and weird glances between Arnold and Helga may have tipped them off that it was best not to ask.

In any case, it had been fun walking around the hardware store hunting for ceiling tiles that matched the handful of debris he'd collected from the floor. He'd especially enjoyed Helga shouting raucously toward the ceiling for "PB&J" to quit strolling so slowly and keep up—they hadn't got all day. PB&J's fears were certainly true about their relationship being an awkward subject around Helga but, unfortunately for them, it was for an entirely different reason.

"Yeah PB&J," Arnold had called from the next aisle. "You heard the woman."

"We've created a monster…" PB whispered to J.

J vehemently denied any part in such wrongdoing.

It had felt so right hanging out, the four of them, not particularly doing anything interesting but having a good time anyway. With their last semester of high school underway, Arnold felt slightly sad that they hadn't started all this earlier. But then, he supposed, there was a time and place for everything. He had a feeling (or at least a hope) that they had the rest of their lives to keep it up.

"All right, all right. Settle down." Helga waited until the roar died into a rumble. "Excerpts from this particular collection were originally meant to be read only after I was dead and buried, but whatever. I'm feeling generous. This one's for a very 'special' someone out there," she held a hand up to shade her eyes and pretended to look around, "who sets my soul aflame with a certain… je ne sais quoi, if you will."

The anticipation in the room was tangible. A bubble of giggles burst somewhere near Lila's and Sheena's table.

"Ah, screw it. You all get the privilege of guessing who the little twerp is. Three guesses in fact." She wiggled her eyebrows.

Several people in the audience groaned. Harold shouted a very mature, "WoooOOOOOooo! Aaaarrrrr—mfph!" Unfortunately, whatever he was about to say dissolved in a fit of coughing as he attempted the Heimlich on himself. A slow clap echoed childishly somewhere near where Curly was sitting.

Arnold, nestled in his favorite raggedy armchair, and Phoebe, leaning her elbows on the beat-up table, looked at each other and grinned.

"Get on with it already, ya staller!" shouted someone who sounded a lot like Curly.

"Hey!" Helga's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't taunt the artist. I'm trying to be professional up here!" She cleared her throat noisily and pulled a post-it note from her back pocket to the onlookers' delight. "It's an epic poem." They all laughed obligingly as she painstakingly unfolded it. "I have minuscule handwriting, for those critics out there who'd like to know." She winked at no one in particular, perhaps in the direction of Curly. "Nah, that's a lie. It's an acrostic."

Helga paused again for suspense. And began.

The entire crowd was struck dumb—until Rhonda's voice blurted out a victorious "I knew it!" which was immediately reprimanded with plenty of heckling and one badly-thrown garlic ball. Gerald was in his corner of the stage shaking his head, looking and feeling very foolish indeed.

As Helga continued to read (and pantomime) each line in an over-the-top, borderline lewd, and unarguably passionate manner, some gasped. Some laughed with outrageous abandon. Some even were beautifully transported briefly back to the nostalgic days of their childhood. Arnold experienced all three.

"And 'A' is for Arnold."

That was when Gerald came in second place for the twenty-somethingth time. Frankly, he'd lost count. There was no way he could outdo that anyway. Sid, crying with mirth, leapt onto the stage and grabbed Helga's wrist to raise to the sky. His words were swallowed by the noise. Park and Peapod Kid were whooping and clapping.

Helga theatrically bowed and bowed, hopped nimbly off the stage, took a running leap, and fell in a crushing heap onto Arnold's lap. The wolf-whistles were deafening. Arnold didn't care, and when he boldly gripped Helga tightly to him and planted a decidedly not-chaste kiss on her lips, he didn't know that he'd just become a starring half in a new wave of urban legends.

Of course, it would take the next two decades for all of Helga's (and his) innumerable secret deeds during their formative years to come to light and trickle down through various channels, the final gateway being, more often than not, bedtime stories recounted to Gerald's kids, but he didn't know that either.

He bequeathed the key to the Coco Hut to his best friend in an unceremonious and awfully inaccurate throw and let Helga lead him by the hand out the door to wild applause and a standing ovation.