SAM ARRIVES --- SAM'S BLOG (taken from ): Worst Thanksgiving Ever This year, Thanksgiving is going to be HORRIBLE!!!
Get this: My mom decided now would be the perfect time to fly down to Cancun for spring break. Yeah, I know. It's November (NOT SPRING) and my mom is an old lady (NOT A COLLEGE STUDENT!). Normally, I would just go hang out with Carls all week and eat some of Spencer's famous turkey pops (you don't even want to know how he makes them). BUT Carly and Spencer are going up to their grandad's in Yakima for the holiday. So my mom is leaving me with... The Bensons!
Yep, FredWART and his crazy mother! I heard she's already ordered a live turkey and given it a flu shot. She gets a living turkey cause she wants to "prepare" it herself to make sure that there are no added preservatives in her meat. Ugh! :(
I would SOOO much rather be eating turkey legs in the shower like last year. Ahhh... the good ol' days! CLICK HERE and relive the memories.
Sam out.
---
Sam lay draped across the couch inside her house, her long blonde waves nearly touching the floor, laughing at a new iCarly video that had been sent into them on her laptop when she heard the sound of keys jangling. Sam closed the laptop and sat up straight as Andrea Puckett pushed open the door.
Many people had called Andrea beautiful – perhaps that was why she had so many boyfriends. She looked like an older version of Sam, in some ways. She had long, blonde, curly hair and baby blue eyes, and her face was completely unblemished. Her nose exactly matched Sam's. The only thing was, these two didn't get along AT ALL even though they were ABSOLUTELY alike. Both of them loved food, being lazy, and were irresponsible.
"Hey, Mom," said Sam, opening the laptop up again. She had only checked to see if it wasn't her mom's new boyfriend (boyfriend #13 – who she was determined was a psychopath) and closed it just in case she needed her new aluminum bat that had his name written on it.
"Hey, Samantha! Great news!" Andrea beamed – something she rarely did.
Sam sighed and rolled her eyes. "Mom – it's Sam."
"I'm going to be going to Cancun tomorrow for Spring break!!" Andrea clapped her hands excitedly, ignoring her daughter's remark.
Sam shut the laptop – for good this time – her eyebrows raised. "Uh, don't you mean Thanksgiving break?" she demanded.
"Yes, yes, same thing," Andrea rolled her eyes as if it mattered. "The point is that I get a vacation!"
"Wait – so, what am I supposed to do?" demanded Sam. This Cancun thing was nothing new – Andrea was always entering sweepstakes in the newspapers, radio, and Chinese restaurants and was constantly going on vacation, but she'd never done it during a holiday before and Sam was surprised she had. Her mother loved holidays – "It's a great time to eat, relax, and drink beer" – and was always home during them. Her mom wanted Sam to love them too, but Sam's favorite holiday was the most important one of all – her birthday. She didn't care for the others. But Andrea always made an effort to spend holidays with Sam so she would eventually like them too.
The dilemma was that Sam had no where to go. She would usually crash at Carly's place, but she knew for a fact that Carly was out with her brother over the holidays to visit her grandpa in Yakima, and she and her mother both knew it was unsafe to leave Sam at home for five whole days by herself.
"Don't worry, I've scheduled everything," Andrea said, unable to control her excitement. "You're going to be staying with the Bensons!"
Sam jumped and grasped her laptop as it nearly clattered to the floor. Once she had it securely in her lap, she shrieked, "I'm WHAT??"
Andrea shrank back from her daughter's outburst. "It's going to be fun, Sam! We always spend the holidays here – wouldn't it be nice for a little change?"
"But – but – why? You're not a college student! You're old!! Only – like – college students get to go to Cancun!!" spluttered Sam in shock.
"No they don't," Andrea corrected her, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Don't be such a baby about it, Sam." She rolled her eyes. "It's only 5 days!!"
"Yeah, 5 days of Fredweird and his psycho-path mother!! And I'm not being a baby about it!" insisted Sam stubbornly. Then she leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I heard that Fredderly's mom ordered the turkey live and then vaccinated it for the flu!!"
Andrea rolled her eyes. "I don't give a chiz! Would you rather go stay with Melanie?" Andrea put on a smug smile and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Sam's eyes widened and then narrowed. "You wouldn't."
Andrea smirked evilly. "Oh, I would."
Sam huffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Fine. I'll spend Thanksgiving with Fredweird."
Andrea smirked. "Good." She began heading to her room before Sam popped up and said, "One sec."
Andrea turned around. "What?" she asked.
"Can't you take me with you?" Sam begged desperately.
"Sorry, you're not a college student," Andrea mimicked, and then she disappeared into her room.
Sam groaned and banged her head against the sofa.
---
Sam sighed, staring drearily out the window of her mom's blue beetle. She sat in the passenger seat while Andrea Puckett sat in the seat across from her, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a cell phone, talking to her hairdresser, Loretta.
"No, Loretta, not Tuesday – Wednesday," said Andrea. "No – I never said – good God, Lori, he's a monster! – I would never marry – I've already been married once, Loretta, I'm not doing it again – I never said wed! I said Wednesday! – I'm not whispering, you – what? I never said that! Oh you – I'm fed up with this. No, Loretta – NO! – GAWD, LORETTA, GET A HEARING AID!!" Andrea snapped the phone shut, tossing it onto Sam's lap. She stared down at it and sighed.
Her PearPhone buzzed in her back-pocket. She pulled it out and scanned the message:
Carly: hey sam. We're leaving 4 yakima rite now. See u Monday! Happy thanksgiving!
Sam: lucky u :(
Carly: cheer up its only 5 days freddie's not THAT bad
Sam: whatev. See u l8r.
Carly: see u
Sam put her PearPhone back inside her pocket just as her mom rolled to a stop in the Bushwell Plaza's parking lot. Sam groaned, leaning back and hitting the back of her head on the leather.
"Sam, quit being such a baby and get out of the car," snapped Andrea.
Sam sighed and unbuckled her seat belt, closing the car door with a slam. Andrea's eyes narrowed at her daughter and Sam narrowed her eyes right back.
"Watermelon?" said a hobo with a scratchy voice standing near them. It was missing a lot of teeth and had ragged clothes.
"No, gross!" Andrea slapped the watermelon out of the hobo's hands, who burst into tears and began chasing after it down the street.
"Nice, Mom," said Sam sarcastically, even though that was something exactly like what she would do, and opening the trunk and getting her rolling black suitcase out of it. She threw her duffel bag over her shoulder. Sam gloomily followed her mom into the building.
"Ahh!! People in my lobby! Out! Out! Out!" screamed Lewbert from behind the desk.
"Oh, shut up," grumbled Sam, stepping onto the elevator, Andrea following suit. Sam pressed in the buttons for the right floor and then hesitated, wondering if her mom knew the numbers for the floor as well as she did. She was about to press in an extra number when Andrea said, "Sam," in a stern tone.
"Oh fine," Sam grumbled, retyping the number of the Bensons' floor. The elevator made a grinding noise and then rose up to the exact floor number. Sam stepped out after her mother and sighed as she stood in front of the Bensons' apartment. It was Andrea who rang the doorbell.
Act cool, act cool, thought Sam. She didn't want Freddie to think she was just as nervous and angry about this as he was. That showed vulnerability. And Sam was not vulnerable.
It was Mrs. Benson who answered the door. In other words, the psychopath.
"Andrea, Samantha!" cried the Psychopath, all fake-smiley. Freddie stood behind her, a look of dread on his face. "How nice to see you!" Her fake smile made Sam want to grimace.
But, two could play at that game. "Hi, Mrs. Benson," Sam tried to look as angelic as possible, beaming as hard as she could. Her eyes narrowed on the brunette behind her. "Fredwart," she sneered.
Mrs. Benson's mouth formed into an 'o' shape as she wheeled around to face her son. "I told you so," he mouthed to her. Sam made a face, but they didn't see. Mrs. Benson wheeled back around again, her look of shock replaced with the sufferable fake smile. "Well," she said fake-warmly. "Why don't you come in? It's awfully chilly out there, isn't it?"
Andrea pursed her lips, obviously wondering, Who says 'awfully chilly' anymore? But said aloud, "No, I'm almost late for my plane – bye Sam, be good!" she quickly scurried back down the hallway.
Mrs. Benson blinked once and then smiled again. "Well, Sam, com on in."
Freddie cringed out of the way as Sam slowly breezed through the apartment, looking around as if she were inspecting something. Finally she flung her suitcase onto the couch and looked up at the Psychopath. "So…where do I sleep?"
"Oh, you'll be sleeping in Freddie's room," replied the Psychopath non-chalantly.
"What?" Freddie shouted, his mouth gaping open. Sam covered her hand to muffle her laughter. "Where the heck am I supposed to sleep?"
"On the couch," replied the Psychopath gently. "Calm down, Freddie. It's not that big of a deal. And don't say 'heck.' That's not a nice word."
"You expect me to let that thing –" Freddie jabbed a finger at Sam, who pretended to look shocked as she uncovered her hand. "Sleep in my room?"
"Yes. I do. And – remove it of any – boy things." The Psychopath wrinkled her nose.
"Aaauuugghhh!!" screamed Freddie, running into his room. He slammed the door behind him. Sam stifled a giggle. Maybe Carly was right – this wouldn't be so bad after all.
---
It was dark outside, but Sam was nowhere near ready to go to sleep. Freddie's bed just felt – too big. Plus, the pillows were really lumpy. Also, the fact that she was sleeping where Freddie did made her feel…dirty. Anyway – who could sleep when she was in the object of her annoyance's room??
First, Sam checked the closet. It was completely bare. Freddie must've swept all of this out, she thought.
Next she opened the drawers to his dresser. There were a bunch of clothes in the first drawer, same for the second. In the third –
"Ohmuhgud!" Sam shrieked, jumping away.
Inside was a pile of underwear and –
"I wonder what this is?" Sam tentatively pulled out an object with her thumb and forefinger. Then, "Ohmuhgud! Freddork wears jock straps!!" she flung them back into the drawer and slammed in shut, panting in horror, her eyes as wide as saucers. Then she burst into laughter and snatched a lumpy pillow off of Freddie's bed to muffle it.
Deciding that she was through with drawers for good, she checked under his bed. She wasn't sure why – but it felt like a place that someone like Fredweird would keep stuff. And she was right. Despite a few dust bunnies, there was a medium-sized box. Sam pulled it out and opened the lid, leaning back, half expecting to find a pile of jock straps.
Instead, she found a bunch of what looked like blank pieces of paper. Sam pulled them out – but they were photographs. Photographs of –
Carly. Who else?
Sam rolled her eyes, making faces of pictures of Carly, Freddie and Carly, and there was a picture of all three of them but half of Sam was missing.
Sam tossed them aside, rolling her eyes. Leave it to Freddie to leave his special stuff inside his room with his worst enemy. Then she corrected herself. No, leave it to Freddie to have pictures of CARLY under his bed. What a nub.
She turned her attention back to the box…and let out a soft squeal of excitement.
Inside was a leather book with a seven-letter word printed across the front –
JOURNAL.
Without even hesitating or thinking twice, Sam made a grab for it and opened it to the very first page. It read:
January 10th, 2009
Dear Journal,
Hey. I'm Fredward Benson – but only my mom and Sam call me that. (More about them later). I go by Freddie – and Freddie only. I mean, who likes the name Fredward? Nobody.
And before you start thinking about how gay or prissy it is that a GUY is writing a JOURNAL – let me tell you this. This was not my idea. I would never write in a journal. It's all my stupid mom's fault.
Ever since we started iCarly (more about that later) almost three years ago, my mom says that I've been too concealed and stuff and that my grades are dropping (not true) and I need to express myself more freely. So she gave me…
This.
Or – you.
What the heck? I'm talking to a journal like it's a real person!
Anyway – I'm not happy about this at all. In fact, I'll probably hardly NEVER write in this. This is probably going to be the only entry. So, have fun.
Anyway – oh yeah, iCarly. iCarly is this web show that I do with Carly Shay (who is my future girlfriend and lives in the apartment across from me) and Sam Puckett (who is my "friend" and teases me and pushes me around all the time). Carly (the namesake of the show – which I came up with, BTW) and Sam are the hosts while I'm the tech-producer. Sometimes it's kinda weird hanging out with girls a lot…but you get used to it. And, technically – Sam's not really a girl…well she is…but she doesn't act like one. You know what I mean?
Of course you don't. You're just a book.
Anyway, the web show is really popular and we have thousands of viewers that watch from . We shoot live videos every Thursday plus we have extra segments we add on sometimes too. And it's been great, us, just working together by ourselves. Except for the fact that Sam is an obnoxious bully and Carly hasn't realized that she loves me as much as I love her…well, that will happen soon. Sam, on the other hand – not so sure. I don't know why she does it – but it's really annoying.
Well. I guess that's it. Uh – bye.
Despite his promise, there were many more entries after that, mostly full of gushing about Carly. Sam ripped most of the entries out, just to irk him. She wondered what would happen if he found out…the thought made her smirk.
His diary was full of mostly nonsense, no secrets, no nothing. Well, he is a boy, Sam thought to herself. But she didn't write any secrets in her journal.
Not that she…like…had one or anything.
Finally, Sam picked up a pen and wrote on the next available page,
Dear Diary,
Hi, I'm Fredward Nub Benson and I'm a frickin' retard!!
I looooovveee yooouuuu, diary. You're my BEST friend!!
And guess what? I just accepted the fact that Carly will never, ever, ever, ever, ever love me and have decided to stop loving her and I think Carly is very glad. I don't think she ever would have loved me anyway.
I have meltdowns every time I pee in my pants! Whoops, I did it again! Gotta go, bye!!
Well, nighty night diary. I looove you. Not Carly. Yooou.
~*~ -----Fredward Nub-hole Benson----- ~*~
Satisfied, Sam shut the book and shoved it and the photos back into the box and shoved it back under the bed. Finally, she slid into bed, a huge grin on her face.
Suddenly she heard a growling noise coming from the corner of the room. Most people would be scared, but not Sam. "Oops! I almost forgot!" the teen scurried over to where she had put her suitcase and opened it up. Out flopped Frothy, her rabid gray tabby cat. Sam grinned. "Hey, Frothy," she coaxed it. She was the only person that Frothy didn't hiss at. Frothy padded over to Sam and deposited itself in Sam's lap as she coaxed it into sleep. Then she set it at the foot of Freddie's bed and slipped back under the scratchy seats.
Carly was right. This was going to be fun.