Next Generation Stories

[nextgenfairytale]

Lily Luna: Daddy got me this dress!

Ron: Well, your daddy used to dress me too, Lily.

Lily Luna: Why?

Ron: Uh, because he cared.

Lily Luna: Why?

Ron: I don’t really know but he did.

Lily Luna: Why?

Ron: Before you I was his baby girl.

[nextgenfairytale]

Arnold & Helga’s quarantine letters by Craig Bartlett

"Dear Helga, Day 33 of the quarantine. Going a little crazy. Thank goodness for Abner, who isn’t bothered, just seems glad that I’m around all day! Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Imagine my surprise when Harvey delivered your letter this morning. In case you haven’t noticed, Einstein, there’s been a little invention called the smart phone, and I’m available by text. But I enjoyed writing this reply in an old-fashioned letter, because as you know I like to write, and it gives me the chance to go outside to mail it, and snoop around the neighborhood a little. So thanks for cheering me up, Hair Boy. From Helga. No, scratch that... Love Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 39, and I’m feeling it. It’s kind of an out-of-body experience. Grandma keeps telling me to Look Up, and Grandpa randomly comes upstairs to tell late-night ghost stories. Thanks for writing back, I never thought I’d miss hearing you call me Football Head, but these are strange days. I miss you. Love, Arnold. #stayhome" "Dear Football Head, I was minding my own business on some random sidewalk when Harvey stopped and pulled another letter from you out of his bag, like he’s Santa Claus now. And not like it’s any of your business, but I’m fine, stuck here with the Patakis for the duration. Olga’s acting career is on lockdown so she has to perform for us, going from Little Miss Sunshine to Mozart’s Requiem in 30 seconds flat. I’m mostly in my room, running out of stuff to read, so I was actually pretty glad to hear from you, Arnoldo. I could use some of your blind optimism. Write me some more, okay? Love, Helga.” "Dear Helga, Day 49 since we could just go to Slausen’s and get an ice cream. I’m spending even more time in my room — Grandpa started a game of Risk downstairs and it’s gone on for days. Things are getting surreal up here. The colors keep changing. I find myself asking questions like, where did Grandma find this carpet? I finally fall asleep and dream of flying, and then Nocturnal Ned wakes me at 7:00 and I count how many days it’s been. Thanks for the song dedications, by the way, they’re always spot on. But do they always have to be “from Helga who hates you”? And thanks for writing back, I really enjoy your letters. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Harvey came to the door waving another letter from you like I’d been waiting for it or something. The nerve of that guy. I told him I’d been out, staring at clouds and trying to see shapes in them like you do, and normally I could make fun of you and call you dorkwad or yutz or paste-for-brains, but you weren’t there. So I returned to Casa Pataki, where nothing changes: Bob’s on his phone straight through dinner, Miriam stares a hole in her blender like to smoothie or not to smoothie? And if Olga reminds me to wash my dirty little hands one me time I’ll wring her scrawny neck. Back to the magnificent solace of my room where I can write you back, as you requested. So don’t say I never did anything for you, Hair Boy. And please write back. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 58 of this thing. How could the days go by so fast and then just stand there? I’m in my room trying to make the walls go away. When I fall asleep, all I do is dream. I know it’s boring to read about other people’s dreams, but I had a dream about you. You were trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. You were smiling, though, so it was something good. I went out walking today, and Harvey asked me if I had any mail for him. I said, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I think he’s on to us, Helga. But please write back. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, you’re right about Harvey. He came sauntering up, made a big show of going through his bag looking for your letter, humming some stinkin’ love song. I told him I don’t have all day, what does he think, I just pace around in front of the house waiting to hear about a certain Hair-Boy’s dumb dreams? And speaking of which, I’ve been having some doozies. Last night you came out of this spooky fog and I was trying to tell you something important, and you turned into Arnie. Then I realized that I was a monkey. Well, a monkey-girl. Anyway it’s nice to get these letters. I don’t mind reading about your dreams as long as they’re about me. Keep it up, Arnoldo. Dream about the day we can go out for ice cream. I’ve got a thing or two I’d like to say over a banana split. Which you are paying for, Bucko. Just kidding, we can split it. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 70 of this craziness. I tried sleeping on my couch to see if I would maybe dream less, but nope. Here’s one: we were up in Mighty Pete, and you said follow me down, Arnoldo, and then you were gone, and then the whole tree was gone. I was a little gloomy at breakfast, probably because it was chickpea pancakes (Dad’s still grinding his own flour substitutes). Grandma and Grandpa tried to cheer me up, but you know what? All I wanted was another letter from you. I went down to wait for Harvey, and he comes dancing up, and even with his mask on he was singing, “You’ll never find... someone who cares about you! Like sheeee does” and I’m like “C’mon Harvey, just give me the letter please.” Anyway thanks for writing back. These letters are giving me life. And yes, I will love to meet you at Slausen’s for a banana split, and I don’t care who pays. That will be a great day. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Ha! Think you’re dreaming a lot? Even if I tell you just my dreams that you starred in I’ll be writing letters for years, or at least till this quarantine is over. Okay, last night I fell asleep reading Ulysses, which always puts me right out, and then I was wandering in that Dali painting with all the melted clocks. And I’m yelling, okay I know time seems to be stretching these days but this is ridiculous! And then you float up in adorable cherub mode. I call out, “Hey! Arnoldo! When will the quarantine end?” And you say, “I know you want to come up, Helga, but we have to wait until Mayor Dixie says it’s okay.” And then I run and run up a bunch of stairs and into my room and slam the door, and then I notice it’s YOUR room! Heh-heh, not like I know what the inside of your room looks like, Hair Boy. Anyway thanks for writing. Harvey brought your latest and I practically tackled him to get it. I think he’s enjoying being the lockdown mailman a little too much. More dreams, please! Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 82 and now we have a curfew on top of a quarantine, which is like stay home squared. I’m dreaming of the day we get our city back. Speaking of which, last night I dreamed you were a 100-foot tall giant running across our neighborhood, and I was trying to catch you, and realized I was a giant too, and was immediately terrified I was gonna step on someone. I hear a crunching sound and then a tiny car alarm and I yell, “Helga! Slow down, we’re gonna knock down the neighborhood!” And you turn around and grab the top off a building and say “Don’t worry Arnoldo, it’s cake!” And I can see it’s chocolate, with candles on it. And I’m, “But your birthday was the end of March!” And you’re all pleased, “Arnold! You remembered!” And then you explain how time is all stretchy these days so March, June, who cares? “I say it’s my birthday, Football Head.” And then you throw the cake at me and now it’s a food fight, and I wake up to the smell of Dad burning a cake made out of what turns out to be Amaranth flour, whatever that is. So happy birthday, Helga! I miss you. A lot. Write back, please. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, I was out at my little spot where I like to, y’know, think, and Harvey came sauntering up like he knew I’d be there. “No letter today, Helga, but you won’t believe whose door I saw open. Slausen’s!” And my eyes bug and I say, “Hey! You’re supposed to DELIVER my mail, not read it!” And he starts dancing really annoyingly, “It’s gonna open, Mayor Dixie’s gonna call it! Soon!” And off he goes, singing “Someone who cares about you! Like heeee does!” I, uh, assume he’s referring to you, Arnoldo? Heh-heh. So I mosey home and wake Big Bob up and make him drive me over there. And Harvey wasn’t kidding, the lights are on and the sign on the door says opening soon, just waiting for Dixie to announce the next phase of opening the city! “Soon,” Hair Boy! Soon!! Are we still on for splitting that banana split? I await your reply very calmly. Love, Helga."

"Dear Helga, I just saw Mayor Dixie make the announcement on TV. Phase one of opening the city starts on Saturday! Restaurants can open! That means Slausen’s! I yelped them, they’re gonna open Saturday at noon! I’ll make this letter short — I ran up to the roof and I could see Harvey coming down the block! He waved, though, something tells me he’ll wait. Now I’m tearing up my room looking for a stamp. Okay! See you Saturday? Noon? Slausen’s! Banana split! Love, Arnold."

"Dear Arnold, The Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble, They’re only made of clay. But come Hell or high tide, Headless Cabbie or Ghost Bride, I will meet you on Saturday. Love, Helga."

[nextgenfairytale]

william (to chris): she keeps ignoring me, but i've got a plan. i'll play it cool. just a little cooler with my emotions.

noora: *passing by*

william: *screams in excitement*

[nextgenfairytale]

noora & william: ...3,2,1! happy new year!! *kisses*

chris: ugh

chris: guys, it's not even midnight yet, stop making out every time the microwave goes off

[nextgenfairytale]

noora: there's something weird going on with your face.

william: what?

noora: you're smiling. didn't know you could do that.

[nextgenfairytale]

noora: *smiles*

william: *looks up at the sky* thank you for her existence

[nextgenfairytale]

noora: william? nah what a moron

noora: i hate this guy

-

noora: *trips* *hundreds of thousands of photos of William, his printed messages and poems about him being pure perfection fall out of her coat*

[nextgenfairytale]

vilde: kiss the one you want the most.

william: noora?

noora, blushing: yes?

william: can you move? i'm trying to get to chris.

[nextgenfairytale]

noora: how do i tell him that i'm nuts about him and i wanna kiss him and hug him and fuck him so hard

inner noora: mispronounce his name

noora: what

inner noora: just do it

[nextgenfairytale]

[nextgenfairytale]

William: five years from now I can guarantee I'm going to be Noora's second husband.

Noora: what happened with my first husband?

William: nothing you can prove.

[nextgenfairytale]

William: [wakes up next to Noora everyday]

William: holy shit I'm so blessed

[nextgenfairytale]

Eva: Why Noora, why?

Noora: Why am I sleeping with William?

Eva: Why? Is it a 'bad boy' thing?

Noora: *stares*

Eva: Is it a hair thing?

Noora: *stares*

Eva: Is he holding you against your will?

Noora: *stares*

Eva: If he's holding you against your will, blink twice.

Noora: *doesn't blink*

Eva: *starts blowing into her eyes* Blink twice.

[nextgenfairytale]

Eva: Don't worry Vilde, if I was a boy I would 100% date you.

Noora: I thought you said you'd date ME if you were a boy?

Eva: No, I said I'd have sex with you, cause you're so freaking hot. Meanwhile, I would have a long and fulfilling relationship with Vilde. She is cute.

Vilde: Meanwhile?

[nextgenfairytale]

William: fucking hell, you're so beautiful. Marry me.

Noora: we've literally been married for 4 years, please stop doing that.

[nextgenfairytale]

William: must you always attack me with words?

Noora: you want me to use rocks?

[nextgenfairytale]

Vilde: I think we should be together.

William: but I have feelings for Noora.

Vilde: I saw you first!!

William: I don't really think that applies here.