Summary: No ships, just Sam. This is basically a rant. I have no idea where it came from.

I don't own iCarly.

A/N: I realize my style changes every time I post. I'm in the middle of a Seddie/Spam epic, and I think it's consistent with itself, but all these random things keep spinning off.

Sam Puckett, Invisible Ninja

People wonder what's up at my house. Poverty, folks, simple poverty. Work 40 hours a week at minimum wage and you've got enough to get you by. If nothing breaks and the car keeps running and no one outgrows their clothes and you never get sick or laid off.

I can persuade a bill collector not to turn the water off, please, not until Mommy gets home, while Mommy hides in the bedroom because there isn't any money left in the overdraft. Not that I've done it in a while. I'm a little old for that shtick.

My mom feeds me. If there's macaroni for dinner, there's one box, split two ways--three if there's a man in the house. No seconds, no dessert, no matter how much I beg. I'm not sure what it takes to say "no" to your hungry kid. Maybe the knowledge that if you eat until you're full on Monday, there won't be anything at all on Friday.

I'll eat anything. You already took a bite? No problem. It fell on the floor? As long as no one's watching. Cafeteria mystery meat? Liverwurst? Possum? Hell, I'd eat baby seal if someone cooked it first.

So sure, I steal from kids in the cafeteria. You think they won't get an after school snack, served with sympathy, when they tell mom about the little thief who took their lunch? The only ones I don't steal from are the ones like me. The ones whose clothes scream "thrift shop" or "bought cheap and worn too long."

I can smuggle it out right under your nose. I can convince you I didn't lift it. I can persuade you I've never done it before, but my little brother was so hungry and mom hasn't been home in 3 days. I never get caught and when I do I can make you believe it was in my pocket all along.

I don't steal as much now that Carly's around. She feeds me and pretends not to notice how often I wear her clothes. I love her. I really do. But even if I didn't, I'd still hang out with her just for the food.

I could win a lying contest with the devil. I can make you believe I'm stronger than Superman, smarter than Einstein, dumber than dirt, and meaner than Bad, Bad Leroy Brown. I can make you believe I'm gonna get ya. I can make you believe you thought of it first. I can make you believe I never feel a thing.

Everything is perfect on TV. Everyone has clean hair and new clothes and a big suburban home. No one ever asks what anything costs. Real life is different. That kid with the greasy hair? Her electricity was shut off and it's February and she just couldn't face one more ice cold shower. Do you think she really wants to look dirty? Especially if people might notice? Please, God, don't notice.

I can shoot a hoop, sink a shot, make a goal, steal a base, throw a punch, place a serve, make a save, catch a fly, throw a strike, dodge a ball, and give you a wedgie that will bring tears to your eyes.

Sometimes when one of mom's boyfriends is steady paying the bills and just a little too friendly with me, it's more expedient to get me out of the house than to kick out the pervert who happens to be our meal ticket. Not that mom would let anything happen to me. When one drunken bastard tried to molest her 5-year-old baby girl, she beat the crap out of him with her iron. She had just finished touching up her uniform, so it was still hot. Wonder how he explained that in the emergency room? But I'm older now, and I've got someplace to go.

I know every possible route to Carly's—bus and taxi and sidewalk and alley and rooftop. I know which ways are fast and which ways are safe. I can climb any fence, scale any wall and dance through barbed wire without a scrape. I can run faster than any perv, pimp, dealer or cop. I am invincible.