 H is for the head I'd like to putt, 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. And A is for Arnold, of course. Duh! The little twerp who sets my soul aflame. Put them all together, they spell Arnold. What's wrong with you? You sleep in a closet or something? Okay, but it's the last page. Here goes. H is for the head I'd like to putt, E is for every time I see the little runt, L is... All of the day, football head. Arnold, what a boob. What an annoying little smart pants, know it all. How I despise him, and yet... His noble curiosity, his cool, keen powers of observation, his unfaltering sense of right and wrong. Find the strength to tell him how much I adore him. If only though, some way I could let him know, some way I could whisper my secret adorning thoughts through this fevered brown, dare I even think it? Kiss the lips at a haunt by girlish dreams. How long? What are you doing down there? Nothing, I just dropped a quarter, that's all. A quarter? Yeah, that's right, a quarter. My sultry pretty, why must I hold you only whilst I dream? Will I be forever enslaved by your spell? Why must I worship you and never ever tell? Senses all go wacky, someday I'll tell the world my love. All my name's not Helga Jeep attacking. Wild sty dream. Will I forever be enslaved by your spell? Why must I worship you and not you make my girlhood tremble? My senses all go wacky. Shut up! I'll tell the world my love. Imaginary friend. Breakfast. Great mom. Great. Great mom. Great. Are you mocking me? Why must I worship you and never ever tell? Trust me, you won't live long enough to tell. Calyx. Like fields of yellow all the days of my week. I write the name, I dare not speak. The boy with the cornflower hair. My beloved, in my despair. That's a keeper. Oh Arnold, so discriminating, so patient and thoughtful, spurning the golden girl and saving his affections for one less likely, yet perhaps ultimately more deserving. One who may not be the prettiest or the wittiest, but whose primitive beauty, grace and charms, like tragically unobserved and unawakened, someone like me. Helga Jeep attacking. Oh Arnold, bane of my existence, blight upon my tortured heart. If only you knew my true feelings for you. And if only you felt the same true feelings sound towards me, dare I imagine. If only for one brief mad moment it would true. Call me mad, but I dare, I dare. With this chalk and no witnesses in sight, I will write the words upon this wall, which bear my soul, expressing all. I hope I dream, I pine and I pray, was true forever and today. Arnold, dismal deserts of my tormented soul.