Rushed Minor Revision 1: December 31st, 2012

iSwear

The corpse of Freddie Benson was buried in his private chambers.

It was a self-burial, attended by no one, not even his wife who was at the store at the time with their only daughter, Kira. When others looked at the his family, specifically his wife, some said that his madness was long overdue.

He ignored the propaganda - they were sending him phone numbers for marriage counseling and self-help books for spousal abuse - while he focused more on his discovery. His grief long outlasted the problems his romance and marriage may have faced, if they faced any at all. He really couldn't remember. Somehow, he just didn't care anymore. The Broken Benson was just a shadow on the wall, working diligently.

In a happier time...

Carly Shay tipped the pitcher horizontally and poured the chilled, fruit-flavored drink into her glass. She took a drink then put the pitcher back into the fridge, expecting that by the end of the day the juice would be gone and that she would have to refill it herself, again. Formulas and exponents glittered in the brain of this thirsty teenage girl wandered into the loft's living room with glass in hand.

Choosing to stay home and finish her math homework left her alone in the afternoon while her best friends and older brother went out for smoothies. Eagerness crept along her face, remembering the unspoken rule that anytime someone went out for smoothies, they were obligated to bring something back for non-attendants. Cold Wahoo Punch settled her thirst, but she could have really gone for a smoothie right about now.

The television remote lay beside her. Upstairs, the notes she needed to complete for her biology notes waited for her attention.

Science was her worst subject by far, this marking period she'd just clawed her way up to a C minus, mostly because she didn't focus in that class. At least she wanted to think that, in truth, all of her grades except in Writing and Film Study had been dropping for the past year. In the past Carly had been a very academic student in all areas of her education. She hadn't been brilliant exactly, but very observative and willing to learn and ask questions.

Having booksmarts sacrificed none of her innocent, attractive features, months without kissing a boy to the contrary; adolescence, however, seemed to cost her that rounded streak of academic perfection. Spencer never blamed her for it really, she was still an above-average student and never caused any trouble at school. Provided she didn't do anything that would make their father ashamed of her, Carly still had reign over her life.

For now, taking a page from her best friend Sam Puckett, Carly ignored the assignment for her science class and flicked on the tube, which must have been loud because for some reason her ears started ringing, and when she muted the television for a moment, they stopped. The next time she reached for her glass of Wahoo Punch, she couldn't help but notice there was something odd about it. Odd being a polite warm-up to calling it 'possessed'. Yes, despite all of the wacky wall decorations, statue pieces, ornate dollops of scrap material, and even the giant rubix cube sitting in the kitchen, the most unusual object in the Shay apartment was a simple glass of water placed on a drab, uninteresting coffee table.

Carly saw the juice in her glass ripple, its surface disturbed by some unseen censer, when again she heard a ringing, something louder than before. Tingling with apparent energy, waves forming a miniature tsunami inside the glass, Carly got up only to feel a sudden drill of uneasiness digging through her body. Nausea crawled onto her face. She was getting ready to throw up when the loft started spinning, literally spinning in her vision.

Dizzy and defeated, she lost her balance. The soft cushions on the couch comforted her while she drifted away. Waking, she could have sworn she heard a knock.

But her forced nap made her very lethargic as she sat up, patting her cheeks and gripping her knees as she stretched, scratching her jeans with her fingernails before she flexed her arms upward. Knock-knock. This time the knocks registered, and since there was nobody else downstairs, it must have been Spencer, Freddie, and Sam. Had she really slept that long? Carly didn't know, but her yawn said about as much.

Again they came, Knock-Knock, and this time a voice came with them, "Carly? It's Freddie!" one that failed to excite her from her exhausted state. She shouted that the door was open, signaling the boy who had lived next to her and stalked her since she was thirteen to open the door, which was never locked, wearing an expensive-looking suit, all gray, which sleeves that hinted at thick layers of muscle... what? Who was this handsome gentleman barging into the loft, because it certainly wasnt Freddie Benson.

This mysterious person who had entered at her consent had brown, short-cropped hair and a briefcase in his left hand. He walked with long, confident steps and politely closed the door behind him, exposing his backside. Her heart, though she never recognized it, did a tiny flutter as her eyes traced the man's slender build and firm, developed buttocks... this man really filled out his suit. When he turned back at her, Carly winced, arrested by the man's striking, bold eyes and the glow his smooth, imposing cheeks attacked her with. The brunette stopped looking at him when she realized that he'd already started talking to her, while she was stuck there, replaying his entrance in her mind. Somehow, this felt like Edward Cullen himself was walking into her apartment. 'He said something, snap out of it!' Carly shook her head, stuttering.

"I-I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The tall, attractive business man who clearly wasn't Freddie Benson and thus should have been setting off the stranger alarm in Carly's head stared at her, piqued.

"I was saying that I don't have any time to chat, I was stopping by to tell you that I'm going to be at a meeting until six'."

A business meeting? 'What is he talking about?' Carly muttered, 'And why is his neck so... furnished?'

"Um, okay."

"Is something wrong baby? You look a little... pale." said the man as he was about to start for the door.

The teenage girl had already come to terms with her paleness, but being called 'baby' sobered her. Since this obviously couldn't be Freddie, she felt slightly amused.

"Baby?"

Without pause, the sharply-dressed, accent-speaking man smiled. "Oh that's right, you wanted to go see that band you like... Cuddlefish, right?"

For a brief moment, the small facial resemblance and the reference to her favorite band made Carly picture Freddie there: tall, dapper, and handsome. It was like the total inverse of Freddie Benson; this person standing here wasn't the least bit nerdy or diminuitive for his gender. There wasn't a pocket protector on his person, he probably knew martial arts so he needed no such protection. His suit was spiffy, his accent was charming, so he was probably a rich, successful businessman as opposed to Freddie who worked for Carly and Sam for absolutely no money, and would probably be stuck with a low-income job since Sam destroyed his chances at getting into that vocational school.

Hesitant and unsure, she let it out seep past her lips. "Fr... Freddie?"

There was no argument, confusion, or even the smallest denial on the man's face. "Yeah cupcake?"

Cupcake!? Carly did cartwheels in her brain. His accent was so wild and alluring the way he called her 'cupcake'. She gave him a tender, genuine smile, lost in the sea of her hormones.

"Baby?" she mumbled shyly, glancing at the floor, wobbling her cheeks in the way little girls did when they were told to look cute. "Woah, someone's confident today."

"Oh of course. I'm the president of Schniederlodeon. If I wasn't confident like this all the time, the press would eat me alive. I've got to be confident, ready, and brilliant twenty-four seven."

Like that, the enamor she felt for this suped-up, studly version of Freddie started to wriggle. Carly stared at him, this man who had the same exact voice, if exaggerated, as Freddie. This man who had a similar haircut, a button nose, and knowledge of her favorite band just like Freddie. Despite all these things, the only person to refer to her by the name "Cupcake" was Sam. And last she checked, Carly was sure that the only company that ended in "lodeon" was Nickelodeon, and the proof was on her television. But when Carly glanced at the TV, the channel she'd been watching was gone, the television was turned off. There was definitely a two-hour marathon of Girly Cow on before she passed out.

"Ummm, Schanidurlodeon? If that's the German word for AV club, I think you should stick to French." said Carly, straightening.

"Oh come now, AV club? Is that one of those things the so-called nerds at Ridgeway participate in? Ha!" said the man chiseled from marble, who looked and sounded explicitly like her best friend, Freddie Benson. "You're so silly cupcake. I'm telling you, you've got to drop out of that heinous institution and bring that genius you hide in that adorable head of yours into the business world!" He laughed at her, an air of truth in his voice.

This put Carly back a little. "Excuse me!?"

The man who dressed in sumptuous attire and had a body crafted from a Hollister magazine cover stopped laughing. "Oh I'm sorry baby, I'm just poking fun at y-"

"Stop that."

"Er, stop what?"

"Stop calling me baby!" Carly shouted.

"But baby-"

"And what's with all this? Why are you taller and, and wearing nice clothes?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Cupcake." the man called her that nickname again as though it were her first name.

"Stop calling me cupcake. That's Sam's thing! And why are you talking with an accent?"

The Freddie Benson, Christian Grey lookalike put on that smile again, that toothy, professional smile that was starting to give her the creeps. "Oh I get it, this is about Sam. I already apologized a thousand times cupcake. I wouldn't have slapped her with those charges if she hadn't assaulted my client! There was nothing I could do." He said, leaning closer to her.

Before Carly could speak, his lips were on hers. His tongue slashed her mouth, sharp as a melting marshmallow. Temporary bliss cornered her while this occurred, only for the reminder that this so-called friend of hers was acting completely out of character. She pushed him away in shock, not as hard as Sam might have, but enough to put some distance between the two of them. Wiping her mouth, she saw the businessman gaping at her, like he'd been the one under assault.

Admittedly, she wanted to tear his head off. "FREDDIE!"

"Wh-what?"

"You, why did you... you kissed me!" Not only had he kissed her, but he'd done it the same way Neville Papermann had done it. That germophobic, vest-wearing, kiss-mongering, polite-but-super-creepy jerk who tried on more than one occasion to make them all rue the day. The same person responsible for Freddie getting dunked into a tank of stuffed animals last Halloween (though, in hindsight, this wasn't really a punishment). Now Carly knew something was wrong. A screw had gone loose in Freddie's head, throwing his boy brain all out of wack. What happened to him while she was asleep?

He didn't understand her complaint at all. With a silky tone, he replied: "Yeah, why? What's the matter?"

"You're joking!?"

Without even a sniff of apology, the businessman shrugged and started to leave the apartment, declaring, "Look, I don't know what's got you so hot and bothered, but tell you what, I'll take you out to see Cuddle fish, and then we can go have dinner underneath the Hollywood sign. How does that sound?"

Peaceful negotiations failed. "Freddie, don't ever do that again!" Carly hissed.

"But Carly I-"

"LEAVE!" she ordered, yelling.

Freddie turned, nonchalant, and quietly left the loft, closing the door behind him. Carly stood by herself for a while, grunting and twisting in each direction, reeling from what had transpired. A romantic dinner under the Hollywood sign, that sounded like Freddie. Everything else about that man didn't. Had she just had a conversation with a complete stranger, or did she really just yell at her childhood friend and colleague?

Since when was Freddie the president of anything? President of Dorky, Techy Stuff maybe. Her contemplating was interrupted by the sound of the main elevator coming to this floor.

"Carly, I'm home!"

Finally, someone normal to talk to.

"Spencer!" Carly ran to the elevator, ready to spill her questions and confusion on her sibling.

The door started to rise and there were bare feet underneath. Carly tried to greet her brother again, but her face twisted in horror when Spencer greeted her first.

"Hey Carly, I got us some Wahoo Punch and bought some more hotdogs. Oh! And I got some more...what's the matter, you look like you just saw something gross?"

Crash! Carly's glass of orange juice hit the floor.

"Carly!" Spencer yelled, dropping his groceries.

Carly's eyes rolled upward as she fainted and hit the floor with a loud thump.

And that was just the beginning.