Fredward Benson hasn't slept properly for two weeks. Its been a month since he graduated, from the world-class TIT (Tennessee Institute of Technology) and all of his plans have unraveled; his job offer disappeared into thin air mere weeks before graduation, his new apartment burned to the ground three days before he was supposed to move in (not like he could pay for it without a job) and his brand new Pear Phone Z suffered a tragic fate under the wheel of a UPS van. Freddie has now moved back home, to his mother's apartment at Bushwell. It's all too much of a coincidence. And while he's never been much of a believer in fate, destiny, karma, bad luck or planets playing god, or God himself for that matter, he can't be bothered looking for another job, or another fucking apartment- so he chooses to believe it's a sign for the universe or whatever, that his ill fated plan wasn't his true path in life. Instead, every day he sits in his childhood bedroom trying to find his true path. He watches films, reads books, joins Skillshare like all of those motivational YouTube videos keep telling him to, he uses a 'Future Career' test made for seventh graders. He reviews this progress at night, instead of sleeping, because he hasn't been able to get to sleep lately- he spends hours each night tossing and turning, lying awake and trying to reach a solid decision on Where He Should Go From Here. That's his new reality, and aligned with his new worldview, he hopes that this has something to do with whatever the universe has planned for him.
He tends to sleep about two hours each night, and in those two hours of sleep he keeps having the same dream. The Taco Truck Incident (same location, same day, same bunny suit) but instead, it's a Sports Utility Vehicle and Sam dressed in that ridiculous pink bunny suit (it's a hilarious image and he's sure Sam would like to do something rather awful to his subconscious for creating it). Heroic Dream Freddie jumps in front of the Sports Utility Vehicle to push Bunny Suit Sam out of the way. He wakes up just before it hits him and suffers the terrible fate of broken buttocks. Before recently, he'd only ever had this dream once, after Cat called to tell him about Sam's 'accident', and never, ever, since. Which made sense, because it fit the context of the situation he was in then, thinking Sam had been run over by a Sports Utility Vehicle and worrying about it enough that it had worked his way into his nap time on the plane over. But now? It doesn't make sense now- he hasn't seen Sam in years, he speaks to her twice a month, tops, and he hasn't been notified of any recent SUV accidents. At first, he spent few moments each morning trying to figure it out, but now it's been added to his list of Things Freddie Is Too Tired To Think About.
Meanwhile, as Freddie slowly starts to lose his sanity though sleep deprivation, his mother tries to find an effective sleep remedy for Her Fredward - Sleepo, Sleepex, lavender scented candles, lavender pillow spray, lavender tea, camomile tea, melatonin supplements, a lullaby CD and an Audible subscription . None of them work, and Marissa worries more and more and starts having two glasses of wine instead of one with her Friday night Cabbage Cobbler. It's all very frustrating. One day, a frustrated Marissa Benson bumps into a shirtless Spencer Shay in the hallway. For the first time in her life, she somehow ignores his state of undress and forces him to listen to her complain about her son's apparently incurable insomnia for a good half hour. So, Spencer arrives that night while Marissa is out at work, a plastic bag swinging by his side.
"Hey, Freddie! Bro" Spencer says, dragging out the 'o' for a more... casual effect? (At least that's what he's aiming for). Freddie gives him a polite smile. There's a video called 'Calming RAIN sounds for sleep, insomnia, study, studying, meditation, relax - RAINFOREST sound, gentle night rain' open in one of his browser tabs, to fill in for the unusually absent Seattle rain. Spencer has no idea where the rain sound is coming from, he doesn't see any rain outside.
"Hey."
"How's it going then? Mr. TIT graduate?"
Freddie shrugs.
"I lost my job before I'd even started, and my apartment burned down before I could even move in. I wouldn't say it's going too well."
"It burned down? Oh well, it happens. it's way too easy to set things on fire."
"I think that's just you Spencer."
"You don't know that! Ask the guy that lived there before you, I'm sure he'll agree."
"I think he died in the fire ."
"Oh."
The rain sounds continue as Freddie goes out onto the fire escape. He doesn't seem to be getting wet.
"So, your mom tells me you've been having trouble sleeping." says Spencer, climbing out onto the fire escape to join Freddie. He doesn't feel any rain, and the sounds got quieter as soon as he stepped outside. He deducts that it isn't actually raining, somehow.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Well, I have something that might help you out there." Spencer pulls out a Tupperware tub of brownies.
"Why? Wouldn't the sugar keep me up?" Says Freddie, who, as of late, hasn't been allowed sugar past 5pm for this exact reason.
"Eh, not really, they're... Special." Spencer pauses, "They have a secret ingredient, that, um, counteracts the sugar."
(Freddie's college roommate, Dave From Colorado was short and had the haircut of a twice divorced female accountant. He smelled funny and would sometimes have brownies. Once, Dave offered Freddie one and Freddie accepted it. It made him sleepy and woozy and it made him think really hard about water. The next morning, Dave from Colorado asked him if he liked it, because Jose from Texas had some issues.
"It was decent man, it did have a weird taste to it though, not sure what that was."
"No, I mean, how did it make you feel."
Freddie thought this was an odd question to ask.
"Quite tired actually, which is odd I think, brownies are packed with sugar aren't they?"
Dave just looked at him, and laughed.
"Oh! Is that why you're asking me? Were they sugar free? They don't taste the way my Mom made sugar free brownies though, much, much nicer, maybe you could give her your recipe or something."
Dave continued to laugh, harder this time.
"Dude, no way."
"Sorry, didn't realise it was so special to you"
Even harder, tears were forming in his eyes.
"Jesus-" -pause for laughter- "you're more sheltered than I thought you were Fredward!"
Dave seemed too hysterical to provide him with an explaination, so Freddie called Sam, someone who he believed has had a very unsheltered life, and asked her what she thought this all meant.
Turns out: "What are you? Eight?" Deep sigh "It was fucking pot Frednub.")
"Oh." Says Freddie.
"So, do you want try it out?" Asks Spencer.
Freddie thinks about how his mother would feel, he thinks about Rachel Leigh Cook attacking an egg with a frying pan on a roll out TV at school, he thinks about Dave From Colorado and his weird hair that he probably cut himself while high- but then he stops thinking because he's too tired to keep thinking anymore. Fuck it.
"Why not then? It's not like anything else is helping."
Then, Spencer leaves and Freddie, feeling quite peckish and with a willingness to get to sleep as soon as possible, eats one, then two, then he eats seven- then he decides he shouldn't be eating so much chocolate, and calls it quits at 10:30pm. He still doesn't feel anything happening at 11pm.
At 12am, Spencer realises that he didn't tell Freddie how any of this works, at all. Meanwhile, Freddie sees the fucking devil, and he's trying to suck his soul out.
At about 1am the devil leaves, Freddie feels floaty and believes his soul is still intact (though, how does one tell?), but he's suddenly really, really hungry. He leaves the house for the first time in two weeks, and sets out to the 24 hour O'Ronalds a few blocks away. He hears a car honk and thinks he's going to die, he shivers and thinks there's a ghost, he sees a pigeon and thinks its going to slit his throat with the edge of its wing.
"Don't come near me! I can fence!" But then he remembers he doesn't have his pokey stick to fence with. Panicked, he grabs a continently nearby curtain pole, "A-ha!", he thrusts the curtain pole toward the pigeon, who does not budge, it instead flaps it's wings aggressively. It's the most terrifying thing he's seen in his life, and Freddie suddenly realises that he doesn't have his protective fencing gear to defend himself from sharp pigeon wings- 'Fuck!'- so he hides behind a nearby dumpster, and hopes that the pigeon doesn't have any dangerous contacts around the city.
At 2am, he arrives to the O'Ronalds relatively unharmed, two girls stand behind the cash registers.
"Buenos Dias muchacha latas!" Freddie strides in, looking a little worse for wear, the girls at the counter look at him, and then at each other, one walks away from the till to the annoyance of the other.
He comes up to order.
"Do you have... those ones with the sauce?" Says Freddie, voice slow.
"With the sauce?" The girl at the counter asks.
Freddie sighs, "Its got that sauce, y'know, and its tall."
"I'm sorry sir, I don't know what you mean by that." No wonder she doesn't, she only has one star on her name tag.
"It's tall and it has sauce on it!" He really doesn't know how she's not getting it.
"Why are you making me guess? I don't know!"
"I don't know what it is too!"
The girl sighs deeply, and looks behind with wide eyes, gesturing for a man to come over. He comes over. He looks kinda mean; bold bushy brows, dark eyes, huge nostrils. Freddie thinks he might be friends with the devil and is here to finish sucking his soul out.
"What seems to be the problem?" the man asks the girl. Freddie thinks his voice sounds kind, warm, like a big hug. Nevermind, probably not a friend of the devil.
"I don't understand what he wants to order, he won't tell me." The girl looks exasperated, Freddie thinks that's ironic.
"I am telling you! I said the one with the sauce! Tall sauce one!" Freddie is very, very, very hungry now, angry too. He hates the word Hangry, its cringy, it's bad, it's not even a real word, but he is well and truly, Hangry.
"The Big O?"
Freddie thinks for a moment, he doesn't think he knows what it's called and this isn't sparking anything. He stares at the man for a moment to discern his knowledge and authority on the burgers of O'Ronalds, the accuracy of his guess. The sees that the O'Ronalds man has five stars on his name badge, and doesn't see the uncomfortable look on his face, so he orders two burgers and makes them both large meals, each with a Peppi Cola (the brown drink) and fries (crispy ones).
Freddie finds a table and starts to eat his food. Sober Freddie would have one fry at a time, dipping each in a proportionate amount of tomato ketchup, stoned Freddie eats as much as will fit in his mouth, coating them and his fingers in tomato ketchup. Sober Freddie would eat fries first, burger next, but after his first few mouthful of fries, stoned Freddie decides to put his fries into his burger and eat them both at the same time. If anybody that he knew were to walk into this O'Ronalds and saw him like this, it would be a confusing sight indeed- and despite physically, looking exactly the same, and still being a... man, it's more likely somebody would mistake him for Sam Puckett than think that Fredward Benson could ever be covered in tomato ketchup at an O'Ronalds, stoned, in the wee hours of the morning.
Gibby walks in, and walks right past him.
"Gibehhhhhh!" Freddie calls, too loudly. Gibby stops, and turns around. He looks at Freddie in slight disbelief.
"Freddie? Hey man! I haven't seen you in ages."
Gibby gets a little closer, he looks worried. "Oh fuck your eyes are bright red, like redder than that sunburn I got in Jamaica last year, and dude, it was really red, like my skin, it was just peeling off of me and everything. It was kind of like dandruff, flaky and dry, it went absolutely everywhere."
Sober Freddie would have stopped eating as soon as Gibby mentioned sunburn, and would have completely abandoned the meal thereafter, maybe, depending on how he was feeling, we would make a polite excuse and leave the building altogether. Stoned Freddie continues to gorge.
"Yooo Gibby you didn't tell me you went to Jamaica!" Says Freddie, mouth full. It seems like he's trying to do a Jamaican accent, but it sounds like a very bad Indian one. Luckily T-Bo, he isn't at the Groovy Smoothie.
Gibby realises that there's something off about Freddie, not least with the way he's eating, the way that he's talking. The slight beard? And the greasy hair- and God, two large Big O meals? The Freddie he knew would be better suited to a Cheery Meal with carrot sticks on the side. Like, he didn't even flinch at his sunburn story, and he probably would have stayed put if he were to scratch the dandruff from his head as a demonstration. What's up with his eyes too? Is he just really sleep deprived or, did he have an allergic reaction? Has he been crying? Or-
"Dude, are you high?"
"N-"
"You're totally high! Oh my god man, you of all people!" Gibby keeps laughing, so hard he starts to cry, so hard Freddie thinks he may bust his literal gut, which would be really bad because he doesn't want to take him to the hospital because his mom is working the night shift and she might see him out past his bedtime. Bedtime, he really wants to go to bed, where is it? He looks around, and can't find it. What if it's gone forever? Where will he sleep? Will he ever-
Freddie falls asleep in his half eaten O'Ronalds.