I've been waiting to try out a new Seddie. I hope you all enjoy this one. The song used is Uncle Kracker's Smile. I spent maybe five minutes picking a nice song out, but eventually decided on that one after seeing a totally great Seddie video by ColoursoftheDawn on YouTube. She/he is really coolm, and I'm a big fan, and you should check her/his videos out, and I should shut up so you can read!
Freddie Benson rolled his eyes for perhaps the millionth time as his mother continued to nag him about the supplies within his duffel bag. The weight was painful enough on his shoulders without Mrs. Benson zipping and unzipping it, digging to find if he had packed everything. Searching through his duffel bag with one hand, she occupied the other by pulling a first aid kit the size of your average fifth-grader. Freddie wasn't sure how she'd cope with him being gone for about two weeks in the forest.
Ever since the incident with Bigfoot a month ago, Spencer had been convinced he heard the mating call of the "beavecoon", as he called it: a creature with the head of a beaver and the body of a raccoon. Freddie, along with Sam and Carly, thought such a critter was ludicrous and nonexistent. But Spencer was confident in the existence of this animal and determined to find one. Which is why Freddie was crossing the hall to Carly's apartment right now: Spencer had planned a hunting expedition, and he wanted Carly, Freddie, and Sam to come as help.
"Do you have your rainjacket?" Mrs. Benson asked in a hoarse, worried voice, "And your bug spray? And sun block? Sun block…oh my gosh, I forgot cloud block!" With a rush of wind Freddie's frantic mom was back in their apartment, tearing the place up for a bottle of cloud block. Freddie took this rare chance to hurry inside the apartment across the hall, and lock it tight.
Sam Puckett rested on the sofa, sulkily chewing her burrito, while waiting for the Shays to arrive from upstairs. Her own duffel bag rested by her, packed by Carly (Sam was never one to work). Carly was making sure she had all her toiletries and makeup and Spencer was gathering his "beavecoon hunting supplies", whatever that included.
Once she saw the boy—or nub, in her opinion—she crinkled her nose in slight repugnance. She watched Freddie as he quickly slammed the apartment door shut and locked it, his hands shaking as he attempted to be swift. After the locks were secure he breathed out in relief and turned to face the room. Upon spotting her he jumped; obviously he had not expected her to be there earlier than him. His face scrunched in dislike for the girl, and she showed her equal abhorrence by sneering fully at him.
"Where's your spaz mom, Benson?" she asked, chewed-up burrito showing her tongue. Freddie, nauseated with her lack of good manners, replied, "One, she's not a spaz—"
"That's a matter of opinion." Sam interjected, smirking. Freddie leered at her.
"Two, getting cloud block." He deposited his camouflage duffel bag beside hers with a flump and jogged to the counter, where a delectable-looking bowl of cashews sat. He picked up a few and popped them in his mouth, savoring the saltiness. As he reached in for another handful, a loud bonking noise sounded. Confused, Freddie dropped the nuts back in the bowl and hurried to the bottom of the staircase. Sam, equally as befuddled, joined him. Before them appeared Carly, and behind her was the source of the bonking: two large pink suitcases, seeming to be filled with more than was necessary for this camping trip. Upon her face were sunglasses so round and big they made her look like an odd bug, and her skin was white, the result of a hefty amount of sunscreen. Once seeing her friend, Sam started to laugh.
"Carls, we're going to a campsite," she said, "not a beach." Carly giggled, taking the insect-eye glasses off.
"I know," she said, "but I feel safer this way."
"Yeah, them woods are real dangerous!" responded Sam with sarcasm, faking claw motions. Freddie found this funny but he decided against laughing. He thought Carly was positively radiant and worthy of Malibu beauty, even if they were just trudging into the deep forests of Washington.
"I think you're pretty, Carly." he said, gazing at her with a boyish smile. Carly nodded in a friendly way, silently telling him not to flirt. He understood and backed off, but Sam had to scoff and roll her baby-blues.
"Give it up, nub." she said as Carly put her bags with theirs, "She's never gonna love you!" Not the old "She's never gonna love you" thing again, Freddie thought. Sam was constantly riding him about his crush on Carly; he knew it was a little impossible that she'd ever feel mutual but he couldn't just snap his fingers and be over her. Besides, she was the only girl he'd met worth crushing over—who else could there be for him?
There was a strained grunt from next to the teenagers, and they turned to see the noise was from Spencer's mouth.
"Oh, no…" Carly sighed once seeing her brother's outfit. He was decked out in a camouflage suit: his pants were puffy and held multiple green colors. He wore a shirt with a grizzly bear on it, baring its teeth on his chest. On his head was a fishing hat with bait dangling from it. He wore a close-to-skin-colored vest that made his torso look bulkier than it was. In his hand was a tarnished blue duffel bag and in the other was what looked like heavy camera equipment: there was a tripod and a colossal-seeming camcorder. He was having a struggle with them; they wanted to leave his grasp, and he was having a workout trying to keep them from falling to the floor. He looked like Freddie's duffel bag, plus Freddie's tech stuff, which is most likely was.
Sam stepped forward and looked back and forth between the brother and sister Shays. "What is up with this family and jank outfits?" she asked. Carly laughed and Spencer was too cheery to be insulted. Bounding down the steps, he flung himself at the coat rack and tried, unsuccessfully, to grab his jacket without putting anything down. After eventually releasing everything, he sighed sadly and put his jacket on.
"Come on, kiddos!" he yelled as he collected his stuff, "Time's a-wastin'!"
"What, will the beavecoon not wait up for us?" Sam kidded as she picked her duffel bag up in one quick motion. Spencer's face, however, was deadly serious.
"You never know." he whispered ominously, his tone one horror movie narrators would be envious of. Then he was tugging the door open. He almost hit Mrs. Benson; there she stood, a large tub of cloud block in her waiting hands.
"This is for Freddie!" she said loudly, pushing past the man and to her son, whose face had grown red. Carly tried to keep her snickers to a minimum, whereas Sam was allowing herself to laugh very noisily. Mrs. Benson squirted some of the white goop in her hand and slapped it on Freddie's face sloppily, turning him the same shade of white as Carly.
"Mmm!" Freddie moaned, attempting to say "Mom" but his mother's hand muffled his mouth. He practically had to wrench her hands off him, and they dribbled snowy-white goo on the Shays' carpeting.
"Mom!" Freddie hissed, wiping his face with his sleeve, "Stop that! I thought you said you wouldn't treat me like a baby anymore!"
"Is that in writing?" his mom asked, eyebrows raised. Freddie let out a strangled sigh and picked his duffel bag up, Sam sniggering next to him. He glared at her.
"Here, Freddio." she said, shoving her duffel bag unexpectedly into Freddie's arms. He almost toppled over with the increased weight, but held firm. She smirked at his grimace.
As they gathered their things (Freddie reluctantly carrying Sam's luggage), Mrs. Benson was rattling off a list of allergies Freddie had to Spencer, fifty percent of them probably not true. Spencer was edging closer to the door as she talked, agitated he was losing valuable time.
"Now then, I think I have some extra underpants in here somewhere…" she said, rooting through her black hole of a purse. Spencer dashed out the door the minute her eyes removed themselves from him, and the trio of kids followed.
They ran all the way down the hallway, down the steps, and out the front door, Lewbert shrieking at them the very second they appeared. They searched the parking lot for Spencer's rented RV and found, strangely, Gibby there with his own bags.
"Hey, what up, Gib?" Sam asked as Spencer took no notice of the pudgy boy and entered the RV.
"I'm coming with you to catch the beavecoon!" he said excitedly, shining delight lighting his baby fat-filled face, "It's my dream…next to being one of Justin Bieber's backup dancers." The kids nodded, unperturbed by their buddy's odd aspirations. Once you got to know Gibby, he wasn't that weird…okay, yes he was, but you tolerated it.
The foursome got on the RV, put their duffel bags in each of the two bedrooms, and went into the main room. Spencer was bouncing in the driver's seat, looking like a child about to experience Christmas. His mouth, filled with bright white teeth, was in a huge grin. "Everyone on?" he shouted unnecessarily. Everyone cheered in unison and he put his foot on the gas, and they were off to hunt the beavecoon.
'~**~'
"One hundred bottles of beer on the wall, one hundred bottles of beer!" Sam sang. Freddie gasped in shock.
"Sam!" he yelled, aghast, "Inappropriate!" They all had been stuck in the RV for a good two hours and the excitement was wearing down and boredom was setting in. Sam's stomach was howling but the only food Spencer had available right then were Poptarts and stale butterscotch cookies, neither of which Sam liked. She started singing car songs to distract herself until they could unpack the cooler, and that's where they were now.
Sam rolled her eyes at him. "Fredweird, you're such a priss." she said, earning a scowl from the Benson boy. He rebuked her behavior and name-calling, and the two launched into another useless argument. Carly gave an annoyed sigh as a signal of her aggravation with them, but they didn't hear it, or ignored it.
"Okay, why don't I say 'one hundred pairs of Freddie's antibacterial underwear on the walls, one hundred pairs of Freddie's antibacterial underwear'?" Sam asked sarcastically.
"Why do you always have to bring that up? !" Freddie yelled at her, "Besides, I stopped wearing them a year ago!"
"Ew!" Sam mocked, "Freddie's being bacterial!"
"Stop that!" Freddie shouted, a pink shade overwhelming his cheeks. Sam was about to give another insult when Carly shouted for them both to shut up. The two instantly quieted, but they kept glaring at each other. Why can't they get along? Carly thought, shaking her head.
She looked over to Gibby so she wouldn't have to be a part of the soon-to-be bicker: he was trying hard to chew on one of the cookies, his chubby face crumpled in determination. Carly giggled at the sight of him—it was actually a little…cute. The minute this crossed her mind she mentally kicked herself. No way do you think Gibby's cute! she told herself. After awhile of surprise, she looked back at Gibby. Still his teeth were attempting to bite down on the stale cookie, and Carly couldn't take it—he'd surely break his teeth if he tried any harder. She walked to the cabinet and pulled out a box of chocolate fudge Poptarts, yanked one out, and gave it to him. He dropped the cookie and looked incredulously at the Poptart in his hand; eventually he shrugged, ripped the wrapper off, and bit down hungrily. His face lit up and he took another large bite.
"Thanks," he said, his voice muffled by the chocolate. Carly laughed and took her own Poptart to eat with Gibby. There was no toaster in the RV, or a microwave, but raw was good enough for her.
Though Carly and Gibby were subdued, Sam and Freddie were getting ready to argue again, like usual. They had been giving each other heavy glowers, but now it was time again for words to speak their dislike.
"So I can't sing, is that right?" Sam growled, and Freddie looked away. "Well, what do you find 'appropriate'?" She moved her fingers like sarcastic quotations, making Freddie look back at her.
"I don't know…" he said, "Just nothing with alcohol."
"Yup, you're a priss." Sam said with a smirk.
"Didn't you bring a PearPod or something?" Freddie asked. Sam's face lit up like she remembered something; she stood and ran to the bedroom where her bag, and most likely PearPod, was. Freddie stood also and snatched a Poptart by Gibby and Carly. He was telling her a story that included his baby brother and a packet of ketchup, Carly laughing the whole time. Freddie never heard Carly laugh that way for him when he told a story—of course, he wasn't funny; his cousin proved that much—but for Gibby she was very enthusiastic to listen. Maybe…? Freddie mused, Nah, Carly like Gibby? I'll like Sam before that happens. Speaking of Sam, she was in the room again, her PearPod in her hand, earphones in ears. Loud music blasted from it and Freddie wondered how her eardrums were not ruptured by now.
"Turn it down, will you?" he asked in a loud voice.
"Why, too loud?" Sam yelled, and the noise suddenly increased. Freddie covered his ears to block the unwanted music out. Sam laughed and turned it down. Freddie, after the blood in his head had stopped pumping, became curious over what song was on Sam's PearPod. He wanted to ask her what it was, but didn't have to, for she began singing subconsciously.
"You make me dance like a fool, forget how to breathe…" she sang in a soft falsetto, "Shine like gold, buzz like a bee…" She's good, Freddie thought, then changed his mind, For Sam. He would've complimented her, but it would surely be twisted around into another argument.
"Just the thought of you can drive me wild…" Carly began singing along also. Gibby joined in too, kind of ruining the nice sound, but no one cared. Freddie thought the harmony was good, even if Gibby sounded similar to a dying cow. Freddie couldn't help but join in on the fun too.
"Even when you're gone…" he started. Carly stopped and cheered for him accompanying, as did Gibby. He smiled at their approval. "Somehow you come along just like—"
"A flower poking through the sidewalk crack…" Sam sang. They were the only two singing now. Her voice was oddly soft and sweet and his was deep and strong; so unlike their speaking voices. Sam was a bit taken aback by the good singing voice Freddie had; she almost awarded him with a compliment but since when did she compliment a nub?
"And just like that," they continued, "you steal away the rain away and just like that…you make me smile like the sun! Fall out of bed! Sing like a bird! Dizzy in my head!" All the while they were, ironically, smiling hugely at each other, something they didn't do often.
"Spin like a record!" Spencer interrupted, his voice even more putrid than Gibby's. The others stopped and cupped their palms over their ears, begging him to stop. He did, looking sour, and murmured "Everybody's a critic." They laughed at him but he kept his dour mood and refused to speak. Carly grabbed another box of Poptarts—s'mores this time—and tossed one to Gibby. Happily, he chomped down.
"Oh, and guess what Guppy did when he got hold of the mustard!" Gibby said, looking excited once more. Carly eagerly listened, rapt on Gibby's words. As he told the odd tale his eyes sparkled, and Carly felt a flutter in her chest. I don't like Gibby! she thought, Freddie will like Sam before that happens.
"You're a nice singer, Puckett." Freddie said to Sam as she scrolled to another song. She smirked up at him, a noticeable twinkle within her eyes.
"Thanks, Benson." she responded as Freddie heard another song beating, "You ain't too bad." Freddie rolled his eyes, expecting that from her, but felt nice all the same. Sam's compliments—even if an insult was there too—were always treasured by Freddie, someone who rarely saw them.
The RV bounced as it hit a bump, and there was a choking sound. The two turned to see the impact had caused Gibby's entire Poptart to be jammed in his mouth unexpectedly, a sight that made them all laugh again. As Gibby extracted the chocolaty snack, Spencer pressed down hard on the break. He turned to face them, his face no longer sullen but thrilled again, and said in a low whisper "We are here."
Like? Don't like? I bet half of you are excited for the Cibby and the other are all like "What the heck? Freak!" Well, Carly deserves someone, unless you want her with Freddie...
*Screams of agony*
That's what I thought. So just try out Cibby; maybe you'll like it! Review, dudes and dudettes!