05x11 - Beaned/Old Iron Man

[bunniefuu]

Here we go...
HELGA: Arnold!

(DOGS BARKING)
(CATS MEOWING)

(THEME SONG PLAYING)

HELGA: Hey Arnold!

(CRASH)

HELGA: (SCREAMING) Hey Arnold!

Arnold.

Arnold.

Arnold.

(SIREN WAILING)

HELGA: Arnold!

Move it, football head!

ALL: Hey Arnold!

Well, Arnold, all we gotta do
is make it through
two more days of school.

Then we'll be sitting pretty
at the annual Quigley Field
Old Timers game.

I can't wait to see
Mickey Kaline.

I can't go out there.

I can't get my outfit wet,
it's dry-clean only.

It's okay, Rhonda,
you can share my umbrella.

Oh, Arnold, how terribly
gallant of you.

(GRUNTS, SCOFFS)

I reckon I can't
jimmy it open, Sid,

on account
of my hands are full.

I got it.

Thanks, Arnold.

(HELGA GROANS)

(GRUNTS)

Need some help?
Oh, yeah.

Carrying this heavy stuff
is making me all sweaty.

(GRUNTS)

Ow. Arnold,
what a hopeless humanitarian,

what a chivalrous chump,
what an overeager
do-gooder geek.

How I despise him.

And yet how I adore him.

Oh, Arnold, so benevolent,

so totally considerate,
and selfless unto others.

And yet how I wish he'd buy
a one-way ticket
to a galaxy far, far away.

Arnold, so stingy
with his goodwill,
so chintzy,

so totally oblivious
to the fact

that he helps
everyone else out

and barely notices
that I exist.

If only he would throw
a little charity my way
for a change,

if only he would pay
a little attention to me
for once

in his altruistic life,
if only...

(KIDS CHATTERING)

Helga. Helga, can you hear me?

Who's Helga?
(ALL GASP)

You're Helga.

Helga, that's
such a nice name.

I wish it was mine.

It's like Helga turned into
some kind of simpleton
or something.

And it's like
she got dumber too.

I think she might
have amnesia.

Amnesia? That's horrible.

What's amnesia?
It's when you lose
your memory,

you know, temporarily.

Or for the rest of your life.
Anyway, I better
take her home.

Look, Helga, I know
this whole thing must be

pretty scary for you
but I don't want you to worry,

'cause I'm gonna
take care of you
until you feel better.

I'm sure you'll feel better
once you get home.
Home? What is home?

Home is where you live,
you know, your house.

Helga. Helga,
you can't walk in the street.
(CAR HORNS BLARING)

You have to stay
on the sidewalk.

It's just so nice of you
to walk me home, little boy.

What is home?

Hello? Is anybody here?

Why don't I make you
some hot soup?
I think it might help.

Spoon!
That's right, it is a spoon.

(SIGHS)

You just sit there and relax.
I'll read you
our geography chapter.

I think I like to read.

Okay. It's chapter four.
(LAUGHS)

How about I just
read it to you, okay?

"Chapter four.
The New England States.

"The six states
which make up
New England are

"Connecticut, Maine,
Massachusetts..."
(HELGA SNORING)

(CONTINUES SNORING)

Man, I feel like
I got hit by a truck.

(ENUNCIATING)
Good morning, dear.

How are you feeling?

I'm just peachy, Miriam,
how are you feeling?

Oh, well, I'm just fine,
Helga, but then again,

I'm not the one who got hit
on the head with a baseball
and caught amnesia yesterday.

Amnesia?
Oh, yeah.

You couldn't
remember anything.

You were just
completely helpless.

Anyway, thanks to
that nice little blonde boy
from your class...

Blonde boy? What blonde boy?

Oh, now, what was his name?

Arthur?
Arnold?

That's it.
Arnold walked you home,

and he made you
a little snack,

and then, he helped you
with your homework.

Oh, he even tucked you in
when you fell asleep,

and then, he waited downstairs
till I got home.

Anyway, I'm glad
you're feeling better, honey.

This is unbelievable.
Arnold was in my house

and he was actually
taking care of me,
and he tucked me in.

Oh, man, the old football head
must feel really guilty

about knockin' me out
and giving me amnesia.

Otherwise, he'd never be doing
all that nice stuff for me.

That's it. That's how
I can finally get Arnold
to pay attention to me.

I'll fake having amnesia,
so that he'll keep feeling
responsible for me,

and I can at last
spend time with him.

Hey, Helga.
How are you feeling?
Uh, I'm feeling...

Confused?
Yes, I'm confused.

Oh, what did you say
your name was again?
Arnold.

And the reason you're confused
is because I hit you
on the head with a baseball.

Anyway, I'm really sorry,
and I came over
to walk you to school.

That is if you're up to it.
Oh, I'm up to it, all right.

I mean, I would like to
go to your school. Thank you.

(THUNDER RUMBLING)

Oh, no, Archibald.
The sky, it is making water.

It's Arnold.
And it's just raining.

You can share
my umbrella with me.

HELGA: Arnold is actually
sharing his umbrella
with me. (EXCITED CHUCKLE)

Looks like
the sun's coming out.
And look,

there are little suns
coming out of
the ground, Arlas.

It's Arnold,
and those are flowers.

Colorful plants
that smell good.

Here.
Why, thank you.

HELGA: Arnold just
gave me a flower.
I think I'm gonna die.

Well, you deserve it.
You remembered to walk
on the sidewalk this morning.

See, we're already at school.

You didn't even need me
to guide you.

Think, Helga, think.
Come up with something fast.

Of course, I didn't need you
to guide me, Oswald.

I know exactly what I'm doing.

(TRUCK HORN BLARING)
ARNOLD: Helga!

Maybe I spoke too soon.

Hey, Arnold. What happened
to you yesterday?

You and me were supposed to
go to the arcade and get
four extra large pizzas.

Sorry, Harold. I was
with Helga all afternoon.
She still has amnesia.

(ALL MUTTERING INDISTINCTLY)

It's true. She can't
remember anything.

Arnold, what in the heck
are you doing?

What do you mean?
I mean,

what are you doing spending
a whole entire afternoon
with Helga Pataki?

And then, walking her
to school the next day.

What else
am I supposed to do, Gerald?

This whole amnesia thing
is my fault. I'm responsible.

I can't just ignore her.

Of course you can.
Gerald.

All right,
but I'm warning you,
this is not gonna be fun.

(ENUNCIATING SLOWLY)
Hello, Helga.

My name is Harold.

Do you remember me?

Well, of course,
I remember you, Cheryl.

HELGA: Sheesh, what a buffoon.

Come on, I'll help you
find your locker.
What is locker?

I reckon that's
the most pathetic thing
I've ever seen.

She's turned into
a total freak.

And she's calling me Cheryl.

HELGA: My, oh my, Archie,

these things
you call books
are very heavy.

It's Arnold,
and I'll carry them.

(GASPS IN HER THOUGHTS)

Ready to discuss
last night's
reading assignment,

geography buddy?
ARNOLD: Sure.

But I want you to
work with me, Artemis.

I'm Arnold, Helga,
and your geography buddy's
over there.

Her name's Sheena.
But I don't understand.

Sheena isn't the nice boy
who takes care of me.

She's not the one
who gave me my amnesia
and walks me to school.

On second thought, Rhonda,
I think I better
work with Helga today.

But we're partners, Arnold.

I know, but she still
really needs my help.

Fine, I'll go work
with someone else.

HELGA: That's right, princess,
keep on walkin'.

That's great, you're holding
your book the right way today.

Nice going, Helga.

Yes. It is great.

Now, let us begin.

"States England New
The Four Chapter."

Helga, wait, you gotta
read from left to right.

"Chapter four:
The New England States."

See?
(CHUCKLES EXCITEDLY
INTERNALLY)

I reckon Helga's gone
from bad to worse.

And she stole
my geography buddy.

This is definitely not good.

What is strange clear wall
that is blocking our way
to outside, Arlo?

It's a door.
Let me get it for you.

Oh, how kind are you.

HELGA: And now
I've got you all to myself.

Hey, Arnold,
ain't you gonna
sit with us today?

Sorry, guys,
I gotta sit with Helga.
She needs me.

HELGA: That's right, boys,
I need him. So shove off.

Okay. Suit yourself.

I think I'll start
with a spoonful of this
nice blue pudding.

Helga, you're doing great.
Yesterday, you didn't
even know

how to use a spoon
and today you do.

Keep it together, Helga,
you can pull this off.

Not know how to use a spoon?
Why, that's crazy talk.

Actually, why don't I
help you?

HELGA: My love is feeding me.
This is too good to be true.

Helga's like
a dumb little baby.

SID: She's a regular nitwit
if you ask me.

It's disgusting,
I can barely look.

(SASSY DISAPPROVAL)

(BELL RINGS)

Whatever is
this device, Ambrose?

I'm Arnold, Helga,
and this is
a drinking fountain.

Here, I'll show you
how it works.

(CHUCKLES) I like to drink.

Wait here while I
go to my locker.

I'll be back in a minute
to walk you home.

My plan is working out
so perfectly.

Arnold has at last given me
the love and care

and attention
I so richly deserve.

And best of all,
there's nothing

anyone can do to spoil it.

GERALD: Only
three more hours to
the old timer's game, buddy.

I can't go, Gerald.
I have to take care of Helga.

Arnold, how much time
are you gonna spend
with that girl?

I mean, missing
the old timer's game?
This is ridiculous.

Look, Gerald,
it's like I said before,
I'm responsible.

So, I really
don't have a choice.

I feel for you, buddy.
I really do.

Oh, Arnold. What have I done?

What selfish,
ill-conceived plot

have I dumped into
your most innocent of laps?

Oh, my darling.

If only I'd lived
well enough alone

instead of forcing you
to hang out with me.

If only I had accepted
the way things were

instead of conniving you
into showering me
with undeserved attentions.

Alas, my love,
if I can't have you
of your own free will,

then I shan't have you at all.

And so,

I must do the one thing
that can right to him
whom I have so wronged.

Arnold, I must set you free.

Ready to go?

Yes, Andrew, I am ready.

HELGA: Okay, Helga. Act like
you've never acted before.

(GASPS)

Helga.

Helga, are you okay?

I'm fine, Arnold.
Now, give me a little
breathing room, would you?

Did you just call me Arnold?

That's right, football head.
Now quit hovering over me
and help me up.

Helga, I know this is gonna be
hard for you to believe,

but you got hit
on the head
with a baseball

and you've had amnesia
for the past two days. You
couldn't remember anything.

Hmm. Come to think of it,
I guess I might feel
a little bit weird.

I think you oughta
go home and lie down.
I'll walk you, okay?

You don't have to
do that, Arnold.
I told you, I'm fine.

I know I don't have to,
Helga. I want to.

I want to make sure
you're okay.

Well, then, thanks, I guess.

It's no problem.

Hey, what do you think
you're doing?
I was gonna carry your books.

I said you could walk me, pal.
I didn't say you could
get all weird and mushy.

Sorry.
You should be.

HELGA:
Arnold's walking me home.

And he offered
to carry my books.
(CHUCKLES EXCITEDLY)

ARNOLD: Good morning, Grandpa.

What's good about it?

Are you still upset
because your old friend
Jimmy Kafka's coming to visit?

Yes, I am.
But why?

I told you,
because I hate him.

But, Grandpa,
he's your best friend.

That doesn't mean
I can't hate him.

Look, you've known each other
since you were little kids.

I don't know
why you can't get along.

It's Jimmy who can't
get along with me.

Always has to try
and b*at me at everything.

He just can't admit
that I'm better than him
at everything.

Everything?
That's right, everything.

Running, jumping, swimming,

tennis, football,
basketball, fencing,

spoon bending, everything.
Spoon bending?

But he always has to
make it out like he was
better than me.

Making up stories
about how I was cheatin'

when he was the one
who was always cheatin'.

That's what
he was good at, cheatin'.

But he's your best friend,

and you haven't
seen him in years.

He probably just wants
to make up with you,
and see you again.

And don't you think
you're exaggerating
a little about him

always having to be
best at everything?

Well, I guess maybe. No!

(DOORBELL RINGING)
Well, that must be
the cheater.

Why don't you just try
and get along with him?

We'll never get along.
I hate him, I hate him,
I hate him.

Jimmy!

Phil, you old dog,
great to see you!

Oh, I've been
countin' the days.

Wow. So you guys
have been best friends
since you were four years old?

That's right. I remember
the first day we met.

Jimmy had a brand new tricycle
and I bet him I could b*at him
to end of the block.

Oh, that was quite a race,
neck and neck
right up to the end.

Because I b*at him
in the home stretch.

But the point is, after that,
we were as thick as thieves.
(LAUGHS) Thick as thieves.

Except you're
forgettin', Jimmy,
I won the race.

No, I remember
like it was yesterday.

I won the race.

No, you thought
you won the race,

but, remember, I said
to the end of the block,

and I got there first.

The end of the block
was old man Svenson's mailbox,

everybody agreed.

It was the lamp post
and you know it.

I b*at you fair and...

Well, it doesn't really
matter now, does it?
(CHUCKLES)

No, no, no,
it's all in the past anyway.

The point is that's how
we met, and we've been
best friends ever since.

That's right, best friends.

Hey, is it true
you guys worked on
the Grand Coulee Dam?

Oh, you bet. Phil and I
spent the whole year...

The only time
we had off was Sunday.

You remember
the fourth of July race?

Do I, it was
the talk of the camp.

The first one across the river
was the all time champ.

Phil was ahead of me
all the way,

I still can't believe
I b*at him!
Well, you shouldn't,

'cause you didn't.
What do you mean, I didn't?

I won the race,
and you know it!

I got to the shore first!
That's because
you ran at the end!

The water was knee-deep,
what was I supposed to do?

It was a swimming contest,
Jimmy! A swimming contest!

You know what your problem is?
Your mind's going,

and you just can't admit
that I'm a better athlete
than you.

The only thing
you're better at is cheatin'!

I never cheated!
You're the one
who was always cheatin'.

What do you say
we settle this right now,
once and for all?

Fine!
Grandpa, please.

Mind your own beeswax,
short man, I know
what I'm doin'.

I bet I can bank eight peas

off that picture of FDR
into my mouth
without dropping one!

You're on!
Pass the peas.

(BOTH GRUNTING)

B 7.
C 8.

G 9.
(BEEPING)

Why don't you
just admit it, Phil?

I'm better than you.

Ow, my lumbago.
Sorry.

Why don't you
admit it, Jimmy?
I'm the best...

(HIP CRACKING)
Ow, that's my plastic hip.

Sorry.
I'd just like to prove it

once for all who's the best.

Nothing would make me happy...
Lumbago! Lumbago!

Sorry. Plastic hip!
Plastic hip!

Sorry.
How are we gonna prove it?

MAN: (ON TV) Don't miss
the Old Iron Man competition

next Sunday,

where senior men compete
in a grueling three-part race.

That's the
Old Iron Man competition.

The contest which proves
who is this year's
all-time best old man.

The Old Iron Man is among
the most grueling test

man has ever devised
for himself.

A grueling ten-mile run,

an agonizing
twenty-mile bike race,

and an eight-mile swim
through waters stocked,

especially for this event,
with deadly man-eating sharks.

Man-eating sharks?
Grandpa, are you crazy?

You bet I am!
And I'm gonna show
that Jimmy Kafka who's boss,

once and for all.
Can't get fit
by watching it on TV, Phil.

Oh, yeah, that's it.
Keep talking, I'm gonna be
in the best shape of my life.

Come on, Grandpa.
There's no need to do all this
just to prove a point.

And besides,
you could hurt yourself.

Nonsense. I used to squat
three times this weight
back in the army.

Watch and learn.

(GRUNTS)
(BONES CRACKING)

Arnold, could you please
get this off my back?

Thank you. (GROANS)

Learn anything?

Jimmy, I really think
you guys are going overboard.

It's too dangerous,
why don't you call it off?

Not a chance. I'm gonna
prove to your grandpa,
once and for all,

who is the better man.

(JIMMY WHIMPERING
AND GROANING)

I know you're in
good shape, Grandpa,

it's just that
you're acting kinda reckless.

No pain, no gain.

(GRANDPA YELPS)
Grandpa!

See, Arnold?
This is why I always
tell you to wear a helmet.

Grandpa, this is
really stupid. You're lucky
you didn't get hurt.

I did get hurt.
Well, you're lucky
you didn't get hurt worse.

You and Jimmy are both
acting like you're still
a couple of kids.

And why do you have to be
the best, anyway?

Getting winded,
you old has been?

I'll show you,
you ancient prune!

(JIMMY GROANS)

I'm gonna leave you
in the dust tomorrow, Phil.

(SCOFFS) You just keep
flapping your gums, Jimmy.

b*at you to the door.
You're on!

(BOTH GRUNTING)

Well, tomorrow
is the big day, short man.

Are you nervous?
Nervous? Me? Huh!

(WATER BUBBLING)

All right, I'm quivering
like a bowl of Jell-o.

I might not make it.
I could drop dead
in that heat,

or those man-eating sharks
could get me, or my deodorant
could give out.

Grandpa, you don't
need to do this.

Because you're having
an argument about

who's better?
It's crazy. And besides,

I still don't believe
you really hate Jimmy.

Oh, I don't hate Jimmy.
How could I?
He's my best friend.

Well, then why don't you
just tell him that,

and call the whole thing off?
I can't.

Why?
Because that stupid jerk
will go on bragging about

how he's better than me.
Boy, I hate that guy!

What's more important,
your friendship with Jimmy,

or trying to b*at him
in some crazy,
dangerous contest

that could get you
seriously hurt?

Hmm, the second one.
Yup, the one that can
get me hurt.

I gotta kick Jimmy's butt
even if it kills me.

(GRUNTS)

(SCREAMS)

Nervous? An old pro
like me? (SCOFFS)

I'm not the least bit nervous.

Oh, my stomach, it feels like
a bowl of split pea soup.

I could get k*lled out there!
I mean, a shark could
eat me in one bite,

or I could die of heat stroke.

(SIGHS) I never wanted to
get into this contest
in the first place,

I just came here
to spend some time
with my best friend.

Why don't you just
tell him that?

Because that no-good rat
will just laugh at my face

and say I chickened out.

No, sir. I'm gonna
b*at him tomorrow,

and prove I'm the better man,

even if I die tryin'.

(CRASHING)

(SHARKS GROWLING)

So, Arnold, I bet you $5
Jimmy wins the race.

I just want him to
finish the race in one piece.

I don't care who wins.

I don't think
either one of them
is gonna win.

I think that guy is.

Hey, that's Jacques LaPlante,

the all-time fitness guru.
I bet he wins.

Too late. I got dibs
on muscle boy.

Gentlemen, the third
annual Easy-Lax
Old Iron Man competition

is about to begin.

Old men, take your marks.

Get set...
(AIR HORN TOOTS)

(GROANS)

(GROANS)
Sucker! (CHUCKLES)

(HORN TOOTING)

(GROANS)

(PANTING)
(HISSING)

(GROANS)

(BOTH PANTING)

GRANDPA: Loser!
JIMMY: Chump!

(BOTH GASPING)

(CROWD CHEERING)

(JIMMY PANTS)
You'll never catch me, Jimmy.

Never. And...
Oh, my plastic hip
is gettin' numb.

Wait a minute.
It's my whole leg.

You're dead meat, Phil.
Oh, my lumbago.

I can't feel my arms.
(CHUCKLES)

Arms cramping up, huh, Jimmy?
What about your legs?

Just because they're blue
and lifeless doesn't mean
I can't use them.

Who are we kidding, old man?
You're going down and so am I.

Oh, you're right.
This is it, Jimmy, the end.

We're going to
Davy Jones' Locker.

Kicking the bucket.
Buying the waterfarm.

Checking out of
the hotel of life.

And checking in
to the hotel of death.

The big roundup.
The Last Tango in Paris.

"Last Tango in Paris"?
That's not a euphemism
for dying.

I know, but it was my turn,
and I ran out of euphemisms

and I didn't want to
lose the game.
Oh, let's face it,

we're both gonna drown.
Yeah, you're right.

Bet you I drown first.
You're on!

(BOTH GURGLING)

You drown yet?
Nope.

Oh, this is crazy.
What are we doing
in a drowning contest?

We should be
helpin' each other.
You're right.

I'm sorry we got into
this whole silly contest.

I'm sorry, too.
I don't care who wins.

The important thing is
we're friends.

Best friends.
Friends to the end, Jimmy.

Ridiculous!

I don't want this
to be the end, Phil.

Me neither, I got an idea.

With your legs and my arms,

I think we can
make it to shore.

You're right.
We can do it together.

Yeah, together.
Except there's one thing
that's stopping us.

What's that?
A 20-foot man-eating shark!

(YELPS)
You know, Phil,

I read somewhere that
if you punch a shark
hard on the nose,

it'll give up and swim away.

That's the stupidest thing
I ever heard. Let's do it.

Kick.
Stroke.

Kick.
Stroke.

Kick.
Stroke.

Stroke.
Stroke.

Stroke.
But you're supposed
to say kick.

No. Since I'm having a stroke.

(GRANDPA GRUNTING)

Grandpa, Jimmy, you did it!

Did we win?
Actually, you came in last.

Oh, well, who cares?

Me and Jimmy made up
and helped each other
finish the race.

And I punched a shark.
JIMMY: We did it together.

We're never going to
fight or argue
about anything ever again.

That's right.

Technically, short man,
I b*at him. I was
in front after all.

I heard that.
You didn't win, I won.

My feet touched
the sand first!

Your feet wouldn't have
been there if my arms
weren't pullin'!

Your arms wouldn't be there
if my feet weren't kicking!

(ARGUING INDISTINCTLY)

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)