Disclaimer: I know, I just got done with One for the Road and all, but this was stuck in my head while I took a shower this morning, and thought some of you might get a kick out of it. If you get squeamish at the mention of womanly products/cycles, I suggest you don't read. I guess it could be a later-in-life add-on to my other Hey Arnold fics. It's gonna stay a one-shot, and I still don't own Hey Arnold. Read, Review, and Spread the word.

HA

Helga and her fourteen year old daughter Jillian sat on the couch in the living room, watching Rocky Horror Picture Show on DVD, but were really having a heart-to-heart. Jill was cuddled under a blanket, her head resting on her mother's lap while her mom ran her fingers through the girl's blonde hair. Jill's father was out on an errand, which both women were thankful for.

"Hey mom?" Jill began, stretching a bit, before taking her eyes away from Riff Raff and Magenta scaring Rocky Horror down the elevator shaft, and looking up at her mother.

"Yeah Jilly Bean?" Helga replied with another question, but Jill was used to this with her mother. And people wondered where she got it . . .

"Why do muscle cramps feel different than menstrual cramps? I mean, their both cramps, right?" Helga laughed, and sent a look at her daughter.

"Well, Jilly Bean, there's a funny reason behind that. You see, when you get a muscle cramp, you've stressed your muscle by not stretching it, so the cramp feels like the muscle is extending in a way it shouldn't." Jillian nodded, and Helga sent a quick glance back at Doctor Scott, who was about to tell the dinner table about Eddie.

"From the day he was born."

"Not the night but the day." The two women on the couch sang in unison against the movie.

"He was trouble."

"With a Capital T." they continued, for a moment forgetting their conversation.

"He was the thorn."

"Not the rose, but the thorn." They giggled, enjoying their moment.

"In his mother's, side."

"Not the front but the side." By this time, Arnold had returned, and found them in the living room. He didn't walk in, though; simply stood at the entry way, watching them with amused interest.

"She tried in vein."

"Not the artery, but the vein." They were singing in almost monotone, but it sounded happy.

"But he never caused her nothing but shame."

"Not delight, but shame." They finished, then looked at each other as they sang the final part with Dr. Scott.

"He left home, the day she died." Ignoring the rest of the song, and how low they had managed to sing, Helga and Jillian returned to their conversation, forgetting Rocky for the time being.

"And as for menstrual cramps, well, those are actually a couple of ninja midgets inside your uterus sparring to the death." Jillian and Helga laughed, while Arnold just about dropped the tub of Orange Schubert and feminine products he'd been sent to get.

Oh God, we're talking about this?

Suddenly the warm happy sight Arnold had come home to, his wife and daughter snuggling on the couch and watching a movie together, became twisted. He saw, instead, a bunch of evil midgets from Willow holding down his family and jumping on their stomachs. Shaking his head to clear the image, Arnold waited to see what his level-headed daughter would say in response.

"Oh. You know, as illogical as it sounds, it actually makes sense."

WHAT?!

"Aw, hun, are there ninja midgets in your uterus?" Helga asked, completely serious and caring and not acknowledging the fact that her sentence was crazy.

"Yeah, that's what it feels like." Jillian groaned, and Helga laughed at her daughter's smile.

"Well, ice cream and warmth around your middle tend to help. And I suppose changing your pad or tampon does too, just so long as you have the right one." Arnold groaned. He didn't want to walk in and be forced into this conversation by Helga, but the ice cream was starting to numb his hand.

"Really mom? What products are the right ones?" Helga laughed and began running her fingers through her daughter's hair again.

"Well, Jilly Bean, I suppose it all depends on the woman and her vaginal size, whether she's a Deer, Mare, or Elephant. Just like different clothes sizes, some sizes in tampons and pads fit better than others.

"And then there's the flow. Some are better for heavier days, and some for lighter. So really, it all depends on the woman; but there is one product I urge you to never use." Both Jillian and Arnold were interested now.

"What is it mom? Why can't I ever use it?"

Please tell me I didn't get the wrong one.

"Jillian, you must solemnly swear that you will never ever use pads . . . with wings." Arnold quickly dug into the bag and pulled out the large package of heavy flow pads. With a breath of relief, he found that that he had, in fact, bought the kind without wings.

Wait, why am I so nervous? So what if I had bought the kind with wings? . . . A quick look at his wife and he knew the answer . . . It's because she's scary when she's mad.

"Why shouldn't I ever get the kind with wings?" the voice of his daughter brought Arnold back into the realization of his predicament.

"Because they are the worst invention ever to capitalize on a woman's monthly flow – they never work! Just when you think you have it in the right spot, you move and find it's positioned wrong, and so you have to readjust it, then the wings come off your panties, and now you're stuck with just a pad with parts that'll chaff because you don't want to waste anymore!"

Both women were quiet for a moment, before they started laughing, and Arnold deemed it safe to announce his presence.

"Guys! I'm home! And I have ice cream!" he walked into the living room, towards the kitchen doorway. Unfortunately for Arnold, he failed to see the wicked smile and nod Helga gave their daughter – nor the mirror look she returned.

"Daaaaad . . . . ! There're ninja midgets in my uterus!" Jillian whined, and both women heard a simultaneous thump-crash-shatter-clatter come from the kitchen, signaling them that he had heard them. No doubt he was carrying the ice cream, bowls and spoons to the table, and dropped them. Helga let out a mixture between a sigh and a laugh, and lifted her daughter's head off her lap to go help her forlorn husband. As she made her way around the couch, Jillian looked up at her with a pitiful expression.

"Mom, I really do have ninja midgets in my uterus." Helga stopped for a moment, before turning and kissing her daughter's forehead.

"I'll bring back some Midol." At her daughter's smile, she made her way back to the kitchen. She stopped at the archway to look at the back of the couch with a smirk.

"Just you wait till you get Star Wars in there."

A groan was the only response she received.

HA