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Wanda started calling Arnold “Frizz Junior” in college when his hair reached shoulder length, and it stuck — by his mid-twenties he’s just “Friz,” even at work.
Today he’s out thrifting with Wanda and Dorothy Ann because they say they miss him, and it’s true that he hasn’t seen much of them since they got engaged, so he’s taking it on faith that they actually still enjoy hanging out with him. They’re picking the silliest, most out-of-character outfits for each other and having a great time. DA tosses him a hippy-dippy floral maxi skirt, Wan adds a sleeveless cowl-neck top, and now it’s his turn in the tiny fitting room in the back. He changes, and just as he’s turning to pull back the curtain with a flourish, he sees his own profile in the mirror … and freezes.
Oh. Oh no. No way can he play this for laughs. He doesn’t want laughs for this, he wants something else, and he doesn’t know exactly what that something else is but he knows he doesn’t want to want it.
“I knew I should have stayed home today.”
Seconds pass. He’s breathing faster, unable to look directly in the mirror but unable to tear himself away.
“Friz? You all right in there?”
He groans and squeezes his eyes shut.
Seconds pass. Wanda tries again. “Friz! Talk to me. You need a hand?”
“No! Maybe? I don’t know. I'm fine.”
Wanda steps back from the curtain and gives DA a worried look.
“You think it’s something we did?” she whispers.
“I don’t think so. He seemed fine until just now.”
“Maybe the outfit was too much?”
“That doesn’t make any sense! He laughed off the prom dress and feather boa, why would he freak out over comfy clothes?”
“Hey Friz, it’s okay. We were just having fun, you can change back if—“
“No!” He fights to get his breathing back under control. “I mean … could you step outside for a little bit? I promise I’ll be right out, just … I need a minute.”
Outside the store, Wanda’s getting increasingly agitated. “This isn’t just him being Arnold, there’s something going on and now I’m worried! What are we gonna do, what are we gonna do, what are we—“
“Shut up,” DA says, “I can’t handle both of you freaking out at once. According to my research, we’ve basically already done first aid for a panic attack, and now we’re waiting outside like he asked.”
“Okay. But we’re taking him back to our place after this.”
“Yeah. For sure.”
Back in the dressing room, Friz has managed to open his eyes. He's talking to himself in the mirror, taking care not to look below his chin.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. What would the real Frizz do? I’d ask her what the hell just happened and she’d tell me, ‘Good question, Arnold. There’s only one way to find out.’ And then she’d probably tell me to ‘take chances, make mistakes, and buy the skirt.’ I can do that.”
He changes back into the clothes he came in with, picks up the skirt and top, and heads to the register.