Entry in Freddie's Person Journal, Found Under His Bed With An Empty 'Hustler' Magazine Around It

January 12th, 2009

Ok, just a little note to self: If in the future you (me) find this Hustler under your bed, it isn't porn. You (I) found the magazine in the park, ripped out all the pages except the two covers, and slid the notebook in between so that if anyone found it, they would only think that I'm a sex pervert. This little notebook could get you (me) in a lot of trouble for all the shit that happened two years ago, but I need to vent it out. I fucking need to, otherwise I'll go insane and just start that shit all over again.

My favorite pill is Vicadin, my favorite drink is straight vodka, and my favorite part drug would be a tie with ecstasy and coke. My favorite move that a stripper does is the bump and grind, my favorite position is…well…any. My favorite handgun would be the Glock .45 semi that a guy downtown named Jimmy had converted into a full auto for a six pack of the shittiest, cheapest bear that dirt could buy. I had always been interested in computer, but mainly with other people's financial records. I've stolen four teachers lives with their own computers (well, physical copies, I guys would be a better description). My real net worth is over ten thousand dollars, and that's just in fucking dollars. In euro's, I am a millionaire. In LA, either you're a somebody or a nobody. I was a somebody in the underground LA. I'm not proud of what I did to get there, but I was there. My 'mother' wasn't really my mother but my aunt, who was always OCD. She doesn't know a thing about my past life, only that my mom wanted me out of LA and quick. She had found me in the bathroom, with the worse bloody nose that you could have. The guy that had sold me the coke had put in something to cut my nose open and then added an anti-coagulant. I would have tried to stop the bleeding if I wasn't high.

Another thing that I want to cover before 'Mom' comes in and does the usual interrogation on why my mom wanted me out of LA (she couldn't afford to feed me was the topic of the month): Sam. Most people think that I hate Sam and she hates me. Their only half right. Back in LA, I would pick a Sam over a Carly any day. Only thing is, that was when my name was Dominic…not Fredward, the most nerdish name I could think of on the spot to cover my real name up. I mean, people in LA looking for a Dominic wouldn't think to try to find a Fredward. But what I've been noticing about Sam is that she's kind of…zoning out. Like after you smoke bubblegum laced with crack (for future reference youme, bubblegum is the most expensive shit that you can get around here weed wise, right next to diesel), which I think she is. Well, that was actually a couple days ago. And her wrists…I'm gonna try to find out a way to help her out. Not even Carly see's anything wrong, yet. Give it time. Carly might have a fantasy about her life being perfect even though her parents are Jarheads protecting a navy nuclear sub, but that bubble will break as soon as she stops looking at Sam's face and starts to notice everything else, as in, well, I don't know…HER WRISTS. Maybe if she looked in Sam's eyes she'll see that their blood shot too. Last resort is that I'll have to help her, which will show that I like her which will show…that maybe I'm not Freddie. I don't want to do that. But what harm can happen from it? I don't think any but for some reason, even through all my planning, something goes wrong. Whatever. I need to hurry up and put this under the bed. Adios. Read and Wrote by: Freddie (Dominic) 'who is confused on life'



Freddie closed the journal, taking a moment to gaze at the 'cover'. He laughed to himself, thinking of what he would really do if he was in LA still. Probably scoff and go clubbing. Now that he had made a cocoon of lies around himself to the point of where he was starting to feel a small identity crisis coming on, he wasn't so sure. Maybe he would jerk off? Or discard it? He sure as shit wasn't getting any pussy lately. He'd been dry for…almost two years now. He sighed again. LA was calling him in…

There was a knock on the apartment's door. He grinned in spite. And apparently so is Carly.

He got up and answered the door to find Sam there, instead of Carly as he would expect. He leaned against the doorway, mocking the way Sam was in position. She replied with a scoff, straightening herself and folding her hands over her developing breasts. Freddie did the same.

"Ok, Fredward," she said, emphasizing his fake name as though it was an insult. Freddie began to smile, then remember that Freddie hated when Sam said that, and scowled instead, which almost made him laugh out loud. "Stop screwing around and get over here. Carly's having a panic attack cause she can't find the freaking blue remote thingy."

"It's called a sound directory," Freddie said absently, checking out Sam's butt through the fabric of her pink plaid shorts, covering it up with a cough and a scratching of the head.

"Whatever, dweed. It make sound and its blue," She paused in the doorway of the Shay's, acting as though she were thinking something over. "And, holy shit, not only that, but it's also a damn remote!" She emphasized the last part by slamming the door on Freddie's face. Of course, he saw it coming, but Freddie was the sort of guy who was slow on everything but grades and tech. Of course, door's with magnetic key swipes were a kind of tech, but…

He slammed on the door with the palm of his hand three times, yelling, "Dammit, Sam!"

Inside he heard Spencer sigh and Carly exasperated, "Sam! What was that for?"

"He was being nerdy again," Sam retorted. "He was giving me shit on the blue remote thingy."

"The sound directory?" Carly asked while she opened the door. Freddie smiled.

"See? The Amazing Nerdy Tech Boy has managed to convert your mind towards the tech side. What has the world come to?"

Sam was already eating a burrito, taking huge chunks out of it that quickly diminished it within forty seconds. Freddie made a disgusted face, but he was actually amused. She's got a really big mouth. The amused thought went on for a second before the long sleeve of her shirt partly fell down while she brought the burrito to her lips, revealing clean cut scabs. Dammit, Sam… Freddie thought. Sam looked over at him, and made a face.

"What are you staring at, Techie?" She demanded, slightly amused.

"The way you eat that burrito's disgusting," Freddie shot back. "We could tape it and send it to the Discovery Channel."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Who watches the Discovery Channel?"

Carly stepped in. "Alright, guys, come on. Let's go practice for iCarly. We don't want to be under rehearsed, do we?"

Sam scoffed. "All Freddie does is point a camera and type a few things. Why does he need to be here for rehearsals if all he does is sit there and blank out on you, Carls?"

"Techie stuff is just as important as us, Sam," Carly said for Freddie, who seemed to be zoning out again. Silently, Carly noted that his aim of sight wasn't even directed at her most of the time. In fat, it was mostly aimed at Sam. And vice versa! Was there something going on that she didn't know about? She shook her head, banishing the thought. They hated each other, and that was the way it would probably be until after high school when Freddie goes off to MIT and Sam…does…whatever Sam does.

They headed upstairs, Freddie having to use the elevator because of his "Tech Trolley" as Carly called it. It had his laptop and various other ends and needs that he would require while he taped iCarly. As the elevator opened its doors, he pushed it out into the spot where he normally had everything set up. Taking out the second angle camera, he set up the tripod and turned it on, attaching the small Bluetooth adaptor so that it would signal into his laptop when he turned it on. Next was the main camera, which Freddie had to hold in order to catch all of the girls crazy actions. He also had a Bluetooth adapter on this, but he had installed it internally himself one night while the girls had a 'girl night out' and while his mother played bridge with her friends. Booting up his laptop, he asked Carly to turn the TV's Bluetooth on and put the input to the VGA. Carly obeyed, and the screen showed what was happening on Freddie's laptop screen. Setting the TV so it was an extension off his desktop, he put the normal emailed videos on the screen, but put a 'blanket' over them so that they were dark.

"Ok, everything's ready to go for tonight."

"Wait!" Carly thought suddenly. "Where's the sound directory?"

"Blue sound remote thingy!" Sam interjected, but Carly ignored her and began to search through the cushions. Sighing, Sam got on her knee's and checked under the couch. Freddie typed on the laptop for a second and there was a high pitched whining sound.

"Awww!" Sam screamed. "Turn it off! Turn it off! My heads gonna explode!"

Carly followed the sound and found the sound directory, throwing it to Sam, who was clutching her ear tenderly. "Good thing you installed that sound locator onto there, Freddie, otherwise you would have to have made the sounds!"

"Yea, good for me," Freddie muttered, closing that window and enlarging the iCarly screen. "Ok, everything is now in place for the rehearsal. Starting in five, four, three, two…"



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A/N: Hello, everyone. This is my first iCarly fic and I think I've got the voice and everything down, but maybe I don't…why don't you tell me by reviewing! That would be great. Ok, thanks for your time. Chapter two might come out in another…three days? Maybe? It might be less if you can give me some idea. Alright. Fball out.