Ben 10 Porn Story: No Competition Chapter 1

No Competition

By Arnolds Love & Pointy Objects

Chapter One Written by: Pointy Objects

Editorial Revisions by: Arnolds Love

Chapter One: Le Commencement de Guerre

and last, but certainly not least, Id like to thank you, the heart and soul of Hillwoods French Ambassadors Honor Society, for voting me into this noble role. I will do all that I can to uphold the traditions that have made this one of the most prestigious organizations that our grand school has come to support.

I cannot, however, forget to thank my vice president, Arnold. Working in tandem, I know that we can achieve success and help this lofty establishment grow to new and exciting heights. With me as your president, and Arnold following quietly behind me, there is nothing we cant accomplish. And, as they say, behind every great woman, is a less great, but still moderately acceptable, man. Thank you.

Yes, that was a low blow. And yes, Im going to hear about it later. But, come on; he dared to run a race against, me, Helga Pataki. Did he think that he wouldnt have to hear about his crushing defeat later, from yours truly.

The French Society breaks, and everyone makes a mad dash to the back of the auditorium for stale cookies and flat punch. Unfortunately for them, I have other things to do. I shoulder the weight of my heavy backpack and exit the auditorium, to the tune of a few people congratulating me on my new position as president and my speech. How did that old saying go? Its hard to be humble when you look this good How true.

Im sure youre just loving all this new attention, someone says, from behind me, as I exit the auditorium and enter the spacious lobby of the school. I turn slowly, already wearing a devious smile. He shouldnt be surprised.

I dont do it for the attention, Arnold. I do it because, I care, I tell him, empathetically placing my hand over my heart. Whatever. Yeah, I care alrightI care about the attention.

Yeah, right. You care about the attention, he remarks, stepping towards me. I am never disappointed. Even after all these years, this boy can still read me like a book. A riveting speech, Ms. President.

Why, thank you, Mr. Vice President. Hmm, vice? I say out loud, putting a hand to my chin. An adjective, from the Latin vicis, or interchange, meaning to be next in line in importance to. Or maybe, vice in regards to the Latin term vitium, which is a habit regarded as a weakness or flaw in someones character. Or maybe-

Im surprised that you didnt add that to your speech, Arnold says, huffing as if he were angry. Theres a spiciness in his voice these days that makes our playful competition that much more fun. When I initially decided to become his opponent inwell, everything, I didnt see him as much of a formidable opponent. Boy, did he prove me wrong.

Arnolds smart. Everyone knows that. He excels at nearly everything he tries because he knows that hes already good at it. Academically, hes got it made. I dont know what exactly is in that huge, football head of his, but Im guessing thats it a mighty big brain. He aced Mrs. Bastlys Chemistry class and let me tell you, no one aces her class. Even few actually pass. I, thankfully, had Mr. Hormel, who grades on a ridiculous curve. But, his passing is a feat, in and of itself. In regards to extracurriculars, yeah, hes great at that too. Senior Chairman of The Hillwood Young Philanthropists Organization, President of the Honor Society of the Arts, and Captain of the Speech and Debate team. I say that last one with a bit of a sour tongue, because he stole this particular victory from me. I should have been president of Speech and Debate. I mean, the speech I just gave was nothing short of phenomenal andhello? My middle name is Debate! No one argues better that Helga Debate Pataki.

Mrs. Patterson thought it was too long, anyway. And that itd stir up unnecessary competition, I tell him.

Stir up? Helga, this pots been stirring for a long time, now

Tell me about it, I say as we head of the front of the school. Whenever I get the chance to walk with Arnold, it never stretches any farther than the front steps of the school. We live in opposing directions (ironic, no?) from the building. Sometimes, if I have Jiu Jitsu, Ill walk to 4th street with him, and if he has volunteer work at the animal shelter, hell walk with me towards Main. See you tomorrow.

Yup. Remember, Speech and Debate meets at 2:35, sharp, Ms. Vice President. See you there, he says, walking away, triumphantly. Im not sure how you can walk away triumphantly, but Im sure that he was.

Stupid Debate Club. Stupid Vice Presidency. Stupid crushing defeat.

Backing away from my laptop, I stretch and steal a glance at the clock near my bed. 8:36 PM. I didnt mean to spend so much time on my speech, but Arnold already had a leg up on me. It had to be perfect.

I had to be perfect.

I shook my head, and ignored the underlying reason for my need to go up against Arnold on occasion after occasion, heading back downstairs to see if there was anything to eat. Miriam is usually able to throw a frozen dinner in the oven (even though she sometimes forgets to remove it), and Im hoping that theres something left over. Ever since she returned to school to get her BA in Business Management, shes been slightly more responsible, but a lot busier as well. I guess I dont mind much; its be weirder to have her (or Bob) for that matter, home all the time justbeing there. At least when shes home, shes holed up in her own room writing dissertations and stuff. No shot outta my nose.

Once Im back upstairs, a plate of once-frozen lasagna as my companion, I start to wonder why Im still battling Arnold. I know that Im not as smart as him; I never thought I would be. And its obvious that people are naturally drawn to him. Winning French Honor Society president was actually a shock, seeing as hes got quite a few fans on his side. But, thats beside the point. I know Im not as smart as Arnold, okay? I know that.

But, Im not stupid, either. And Im not lazy. And Im not afraid of hard work. So, how do you let somebody see that; somebody like Arnold, who is so impressive all by himself, that the accomplishments of others pale in comparison? My final decision was that I had to show him. In the seventh grade, Arnold went out for treasurer of our class. I ran against him. And granted, I didnt win, but I gave him a run for his money. I made posters, coerced the principal into letting me have air time during the morning announcements, anythingjust to show him that I could put effort forth. That I could try. And when he won, I shook his hand, told him it was a great race, and that we should do it again.

And we did.

Since then, nearly everything between us has been a competition. Before it was just the little things: getting to lunch faster so we could snatch up the best seats, higher scores on tests, things like that. In our freshman year of high school, when our teacher was on maternity leave, we even battled over who could give the substitute teacher more grief.

I was about to get started with my homework again, when a faded, black and white newspaper cut out crossed my eye. It was definitely old, from several years ago, when Arnold and I were still getting acclimated to battling one another in any way that we could. Our eighth grade science teacher, Mrs. B, assigns us this bizarre project. We have to grow Boston ferns for the remainder of the school year, and at the end, she measures them to see how we did. Sounds easy right? No. Apparently these plants are practically impossible to raise past a week. At first, I thought the project was just another was for the sadistic Mrs. B to torture us for the entire school year. But, and it only took me a few seconds to realize this, this could be used to my advantageagainst Arnold. We must have had the same line of thinking, because when I caught his eye from across the room, he was already wearing a smirk, and I knew that the games had begun.

Fast forwarding six months, I enter Mrs. Bs class to find a dead plant on almost every desk of my classmates, their sullen faces telling me how miserably they all failed. Wellnot all of them. Toward the back of the room sat a bright, beautiful green fern, its stalks covering the top of the desk an spilling onto the floor. And who should be standing by this impressive feat of horticulture? Arnold. Doi.

Anyway, at the end of class, the ecstatic Mrs. B measures our plants, and Ill just tell you right now, I didnt win. She measured the longest stalk on each of our plants, and even though my leaves were bigger and brighter (thanks to the special formula given to me by Ms. Vitello), Arnold beat me out by a quarter of an inch. Thats right.

Now, Im never one to take defeat lying down, so I asked her to measure it again. She did. Same results. Even after leaving class that day, I still argued that he cheated somehow, and the dispute was never resolved. I know this because my beautiful Boston Fern is still with me (Ive named her V, because when it started growing, it was only two twin stalks coming out of the soil, and V is such an evil letter. Its a letter to be feared and taken seriously. Like me.). If by some chance Arnold is paired up with me for a project, hell come by and have Cindy Sue (his ferncould you imagine a stupider name? I get the feeling that he thinks of himself as Gipetto and thinks that his fern is a real girlpathetic) and bring his fern along for a little friendly measuring. No matter how I ration out this plants food, he always has be by a hair. But one day, I will prevail. I look over at V and she sways a little bit in agreement. Oh yes, we will prevail.

But, lately, the big dogs have been let out. Arnolds been stepping up his game, and its not so easy to conquer him anymore. Well, if hes stepping up his game, then I can most certainly step up mine. Theres a quote from that hot-shot soccer player, that I keep taped to the inside of my locker. I read it everyday before school starts to get me motivated: You can’t just beat a team, you have to leave a lasting impression in their minds, so they never want to see you again. I have a feeling that something big is happening. Something is brewing and its going to take everything Ive got just to get out alive.

This is beyond academics, or charity work or community service.

The battle lines have been drawn.

This is war.

A/N from Pointy Objects: Thanks for giving this story a chance; I know I can speak for Arnolds Love when I say that we’re both really proud of this, and really excited for people to read it. It’s like nothing you’ve ever read before. It’s going to be epic, and it’s being brought to you by the Forces of Arnold’s Love and Pointy
Objects!