Prom Bomb

by: aNdreaa

Second iCarly OneShot. I must say, I love those little funny noises that Freddie always makes. (YAWN. Nnnghngrgh. Dah!)

-&-

FMyLife
My life sucks but I don't give a f***

Today, my friend made me spend 40 dollars for my prom ticket, 20 dollars for my share of the limo, 70 dollars for my dress, 15 dollars for my shoes, and another 10 dollars for miscellaneous prep-up things. I spent 2 bucks on a corndog that gave me food poisoning and a barf spasm that made me miss the entire event. FML

05/9/2009 at 9:43pm by pukecity - health - I agree, your life is f***ed (21378) - you deserved that one (1019)

-&-

Sam had no sooner lifted her sickly-green face from the toilet bowl when the doorbell rang.

"No," she groaned, flushing her sick down. There was no way she was answering the door. She felt sick as a dying person, probably looked even worse, and she felt more terrible than ever before.

The doorbell rang once more, then a few knocks.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

Through her groggy and rather ailing state of mind, she still managed to identify the concerned voice of one very unexpected Fredward Benson. Like his presence was any incentive for her to open the door now.

"Go away, Fredrat," she said loudly, before hurling into the toilet again.

"Sam, open the door!" It rattled with the boy's efforts. "God…can't believe you have seven locks on this thing…"

Sam couldn't help but smile to herself. Seven locks- one for every time one of her mom's boyfriends had broken into the house to steal a kitchen appliance.

"Sam!"

"No! I feel like butt and I look like disgusting. If you come in, I swear, I'll spray you with chunks of vomit and they all might not be on purpose."

"Don't be gross. Just let me in. I've got some medication and food and stuff that might help."

"Where's Carly?"

"Still at prom. She really wanted to come to check up on you but…there's this really long story about Gibby and a broken ankle I'm not sure you want to hear."

"Save it, Benson," Sam moaned. "Gimme a sec."

Freddie stood outside, staring at the apartment door, for a full two minutes as he impatiently listened to some muffled retching, a few things being knocked down, and finally all the locks being undone one by one.

The door creaked open at last, revealing her tired face. She was on her knees and hanging off the doorknob like a rag doll.

Freddie raised an eyebrow.

Sam stuck her arm out through the crack, demanding the care package.

"No way," Freddie said, knowing Sam's hastiness all too well. "Let me in. If I left you alone with this stuff you'd take enough doses of it to knock out an elephant."

Sam narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth in objection then closed it promptly. The kid was so right.

She relented and opened the door. "Fine. But don't get all, 'My mom works hard to pay for my clothes!' on me when I puke on your tux."

Freddie rolled his eyes. "As long as you and your scissors stay away from me, I won't. Now…uh…" He paused in his stride, looking around. He'd been in the Puckett household only once before and now he remembered why he'd never attempted to come back.

The place, while not really dirty, definitely had been neglected. Bare walls, cheap carpet, and tables bearing yesterday's dishes and takeout containers was the least of it. The lighting was a bit more dim than he remembered; perhaps it was time to change the bulbs. And as an almost pitiful last touch to salvage some class, there was a painting hanging on the wall that featured some abstract blobs.

"Stop staring, start caring," Sam said, gesturing to the large brown paper bag Freddie was holding. She flung herself on the couch and sighed dramatically. Freddie went into her kitchen and began to sort out all the things he brought her, speaking as he held the objects up one by one.

"Pills," he said, shaking the little bottle at her. "I'll give you two right now and then in eight hours, you can take another two."

Sam nodded from the couch. "Hurry."

Freddie, in no rush, pulled out a medium-sized white metal container. Sam stared at him, perplexed.

"You shouldn't eat anything solid or drink anything other than clear liquids for the next twelve hours at least. I brought you some chicken soup that you can eat when your stomach can take food because I doubt you have any sick-people food in this apartment."

"Hey, my mom goes to the grocery store, alright?!" Sam said, defensively. Freddie yanked open the fridge to reveal nothing but a bottle of ketchup and a plastic bag full of cheese cubes. He looked at Sam pointedly.

"…sometimes," she said, leaning back on the couch. "Sort of."

"And," Freddie continued, "knowing you, you'd probably eat the chicken soup as soon as I leave because you have no self-control so I put it in this timed food dispenser that'll open automatically." He showed her the dial on the metal container.

"That's for dogs!" Sam said, disgusted.

"It's brand new," Freddie argued. "Like I said. Self-control. You have none. I set it already and I'm leaving it in the fridge. Don't try to hammer your way in."

"Blurgh."

"Vomit bucket," Freddie continued, holding up a rather large blue bin. "So you don't have to keep dragging yourself to the bathroom."

"Ah. Come to mama."

"And lastly…" Freddie said, "…mints."

"Can't believe I'm sayin' this, Fredman, but I really needed this."

Freddie brought a bottle of water, the blue bin, some paper towels, and the mints and he strode across the decaying living room to Sam who was flopped on the couch like a lifeless carcass.

"Sit up," he said, unscrewing the cap on the water bottle. "Two pills. Here we go."

Sam popped the small white tablets into her mouth and winced as they were followed by a gulp of H2O.

"So, is it really bad?" Freddie asked conversationally as she thrust the bottle back into his waiting hands. Sam groaned obnoxiously in reply.

"Worse than the time you licked the swing set?"

"Nnnngggraauughhh."

"The time Missy gave you seventeen-year-old chocolate?"

"Way, way worse. This was a whole corndog."

Freddie took one glance at Sam's limp form and took her word for it. "I'm really sorry you missed out on prom."

"Hrngh."

"If it makes you feel any better, it wasn't that spectacular. The DJ was just playing boring rap music and the chocolate fountain broke."

"Hm. Tell me something good about prom."

"Good?"

"Yeah. You don't need to make me feel better about missing out. Everyone paid forty bucks for a ticket. Couldn't have been that suckish."

"Well," Freddie thought, "everyone was dancing together and stuff. That was cool."

"…"

"And there were a couple of professional photographers for yearbook mingling around taking goofy pictures of everyone. They'll be online on Monday."

Sam was silent and she rolled on her side so that she was facing Freddie. "It was fun?" she asked him. He could only reply honestly.

"Yeah. But it wasn't like…'A Night to Remember' or anything," he said, complete with air quotes. "Really. You weren't missing out on anything vital."

"Why'd you leave so early?" Sam asked hoarsely, still waiting for the pills to kick in. Already though, she felt less nauseated. She reached out and flicked one of the lapels on Freddie's tuxedo.

"Got bored," came the easy reply. "And my mom wanted me home by 10:00," he added in a more scathing tone. Sam pressed her lips together as she tried not to laugh.

"Wow."

"Speaking of moms," Freddie said, looking around, "where's yours?"

"Out on a date."

"With that doctor guy?"

"Nope. Zookeeper."

"Interesting."

"Yeah, but if he steals anything from this house, I'm tossing him in the alligator pit."

Freddie grinned and stood up.

"Well," he said, putting his hands in his pockets. "That's all. Call if there's an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?"

"Like…you start throwing up nonstop or your stomach implodes."

"Got it."

Freddie prepared to exit the Puckett residence and eyed an opaque clothing protector bag hanging off the bathroom door. It was puffy; definitely contained something worth talking about. He pointed to it, turning around with a smirk on his face.

"What is that?"

"Nunya, Fredward. Get out of here."

But already, he was unzipping the wrap to reveal a rather pretty little number in an off-white.

"Is this what you were going to wear tonight?" he asked incredulously. It was so…dressy. Well, prom was a formal occasion but this was Sam they were talking about. And Sam didn't wear skirts let alone…strapless puffy dresses.

He was immediately hit in the side of the head by something cold and slimy.

"Gah! OW!" he batted away the gross stuff that was now sliding down his ear to his neck and found that Sam had launched one of the old takeout noodle boxes at him.

"Put it away!" she yelled, too tired to get up to strangle him.

"Awww, SAM," Freddie whined as he looked down at the brown sauce stains on his tuxedo. "Gross." He refrained from saying that his mom worked hard to pay for tonight's wardrobe.

"You deserved it, diphthong,"

There was an awkward pause as Freddie looked at the dress again and then back to the girl on the couch.

"I've got plenty more ammo where that came from," she growled just in case he tried to do anything else.

"No, no, I'm done," Freddie said, his hands up in defense. "I'm going."

"'Kay. Well."

"Bye."

"Bye."

"Self-control."

"Yeah right."

"Sorry you had to miss out tonight." His hand was on the doorknob now, twisting.

"Yeah, whatever. You said it wasn't 'A Night to Remember'," Sam replied, mimicking him with the air quotes. "Besides, I got to throw food at your clothes. I'd call it a pretty successful evening."

"Nnngh."

-&-

GivesMeHope
Life is beautiful today!

Today, it was my prom night and after spending a fortune in preparation, I missed it because of food poisoning. A dork- this guy I detest and always torment- ended up coming over with chicken soup, medicine, and mints. He said it was because his curfew was at 10 PM anyway. I called his neurotic mom to clarify. It was actually 1 AM. GMH

Comments on #3218 (4) - May 9, 2009 11:36 PM by pukecitynomore - GMH - I Like This! (5613)

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Heehee. Just a little (older) Seddie OneShot I actually wrote way back around May 9th- my actual prom date- and didn't revise until now. Eep. (I did not miss my awesometastic prom though, thankfully.) However, the same could not be said for this girl I sort of know in my class- she did get food poisoning from Chinese food. :( Isn't that terrible? Thus, this OneShot was born.

By the way, there IS such a thing as GivesMeHope. GMH. It's just like FMyLife except the exact opposite. FML is way funnier but GMH is inspirational and just nice to read- especially if you're feeling down. Go look it up!

Please review! :D