Hey, peoples! I'm sorry. Once school happened… well… it HAPPENED. So… yeahhhh…

On a less awkward note, this is a mostly dialogue fic devised from my incessant ponderings about the dynamics of cartoons and some searching through TVTropes (dot) org. Eventually, I happened upon the magical dimension called Hammerspace, or malletspace. That's some awesome chiz right there. So, this is me interpreted through Sam, basically. Sam could be me played up a bit – more arrests, more vain, more badass… Yeah, no. Sam's a BAMF. I'm a wannaBAMF.

Disclaimer: If I owned iCarly, I'd be the badass chick, and Freddie would be my cute-nub-turned-hot-dork-boy-toy. Forever. And ever. And eeeeeeevvvvvveeeerrrrrrrrr.

What was in that sandwich Spencer packed? Carly went home sick, and now I'm here with Sam till the end of the day… Freddie shut his locker and leaned his already aching head against the poor metal.

"Hey, Freddork!" Sam burst into the hallway, frantically waving her notebook and running toward Freddie's locker.

"What is it now, Puckett?" He rolled his eyes. He was gonna be late to AP Biology if Sam didn't hurry this up.

"Imagine this: we're sittin' up in the sudio – just me, Carly, and… well, you – watchin' Girly Cow. All of a sudden, Chezzie goes all wacko-insane-angry like on Girly and starts whacking her with a hammer."

"Mallet." Fredward Benson prided himself on being able to differentiate between things no one usually cared about, like hammers and mallets.

"Whatever As if it even matters." A hurt look from Freddie stopped her. "Suck it up, Benson! Anyway, my question is: where do those mallets come from? You know; those oversized hammers that obviously weren't there a second ago and are way too huge to hide behind your back! Do they appear out of nowhere, or is there some designated, unknown spot for them on a shelf in another dimension? And what about those Mary Poppins bags – the ones that hold everything? And cartoon characters that can hide stuff in their hair? And cartoon characters that can hide their hair in tiny little hats and helmets? And those girls who can fit entire bazookas in their… average sized bras? And those guys who can fit guns down their –?"

"SAM!"

"WHAT?"

"You're babbling."

Slap.

"What was that for?'

"For being unapproving and blatantly ignorant of my unique, methodical fashion of articulating," she deadpanned, smirking at his shocked expression. "Now answer my question!!"

"It's called 'hammerspace', okay? There are whole websites written on just that one topic! Now leave me alone; I'm late for Bio!"

"Meh, I'm skipping anyway." Freddie saw a flash of paper in her pocket. He highly doubted she was gonna skip again, but…

"Saaaammm…"

"I don't wanna hear it, Benson! Off you go, nerd boy – don't wanna ruin your chances of going to Harvard."

"Why would you care where I go to college?"

"The farther away from me, the better it is for all of us."

"…Why do I hang out with you again?"

"Because, Freddison, I am your master – the single most important person you will ever encounter in your lifetime." She paused. "And I'm crazy like a fox." Another pause. "And I'm a freakin' goddess who's sexy and has magical hair." A smirk and raised eyebrows are exchanged.

Finally, Freddie rolled his eyes. "Later, 'Mistress' Puckett."

"See ya, Fredderly!" Grinning, she ran off to the computer lab.

Mr. Larvetson never did come from his lunch break. An announcement from the office revealed that, because Mr. Larvetson was new to Washington state, he used a GPS to get around. Apparently, the GPS malfunctioned, and he ended up in Las Vegas.

He didn't bother coming back. The students had a free period, then went to their next class.

Freddie knew that only one person would mess with a teacher's GPS. After Spanish, he headed to the demon's locker.

"Sam, why on Earth did you mess with his GPS?"

"Because unit tests suck, and even dorks shouldn't have to suffer through those. Plus, my innocent, childlike questions concerning the physics of cartoons are more important to you than Bio will ever be."

"God, Sam, you might as well get me a collar that says 'Sam's Bitch' on it."

"At least you admit you're good and whipped! Other boys still think they have freedom. No boys have freedom with Mama…"

Freddie rolled his eyes. Wedlock with her would be terror. "How was study hall?"

"Uh, I skipped, Freddoofus."

"Nice try, Puckett. I saw the hall pass in your pocket."

"It was a detention slip!"

"Psh. Whatever, Sammy."

She grinned. "I hacked into the school's database and changed the week's lunch menus to ice cream, tater tots, fish sticks, and pizza!"

"And, of course, you're expecting me to buy all this for you."

"Who else, bitch?"

A playful sigh escaped his lips. He really didn't care, but his mom might wonder where that monthly eight bucks went… "Let's go, Princess."

"Whatever you say, Benson!" she said, skipping ahead of the poor boy, who had to trot to catch up with his hyperactive friend.

He scoffed. What a girl.