Chapter One: Sea-ttle
Disclaimer: I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.
It's raining, and it never stops raining, because it's Seattle. Hence why it has 'Sea' in front of Seattle. Besides the constant raining, it's a nice enough place to live. I mean I could be living somewhere in Afghanistan or Africa instead, but I'm not, I'm stranded in this wet-paradise.
Fact, the only reason, as juvenile and self-indulgent this may sound, I find this place better than any other place in the world is because Carly's here. Carly, my best friend of eight years and counting, can only be found in Seattle. For according to Albert Einstein's Quantum theory no one can be in two places at once.
Maybe it's stupid of me, maybe I'm no better than Freddie, and just maybe I'm worse than Freddie. Truth, I am stupid, and Freddie has now officially passed me in ranks ever since he got together with Shannon Williams. And worst part is, I can't seem to un-stupidfi myself. If only this was about my insufferable grades, then I would be on my bed peacefully chewing on a piece of pork chops, enjoying life as it should be, simple.
Speaking of pork chops…
Sometimes I wish I could be a pig, be fed and loved by many, rivalling only the turkey on holidays, who wouldn't want to be a pig? I know kids who worship bacon, like Tubby Tommy, his mom sent him to fat camp because she found his closet full of bacon, not just the meat but pictures, articles, and god know's what else. People would kill to be worshipped, just look up Hitler on google. I bet he wished he was a pig, well that is before the people found him dead.
I wonder if I would be dead before my dreams of becoming a pig is fulfilled, probably. That's what the world does to you, it makes you live just long enough for you to dream but too short for your dreams to actually become real. The world's a jerk like that.
Rain droplets starts squeezing their way through the tiny holes in my umbrella, and right then I wish I had brought that mini-umbrella from the Dollaruma, last week when I was there with Carly. A buck is worth staying dry for. It actually takes two dollars for a basket of laundry to be dried, so if you do the math properly, I would've saved a whole buck if I had gotten that mini-umbrella, even if they only sold pink poodle designed ones.
As soon as I spot the double doors to Carly's apartment building, I enter. Once inside, I shake myself and the useless umbrella, I finish just before Lewbert enters with that freakish large mole on his face. Immediately he notices the large puddle of water on the floor, and just as quickly he starts pointing fingers, casually I blame it on a fat lady pampering her equally over-weighed cat. Through the closing doors of the elevator, I manage to catch a glimpse of Lewbert verbally abusing the perfectly innocent lady. Innocent unless they placed a new weight-limit on the apartments.
When I drag my wet self into the familiar apartment that is Spencer's, I'm wearing a wide grin on my lips. Both Carly and Freddie turn and look at me wearily with suspicion as if I've kicked the world's cutest puppy. My only defence is a shrug, and before my butt touches the warm cushions that they long to sit on, Carly stops me.
Yanking my arm in mid-air, she states the obvious, "You're wet."
"And you're grinning," Freddie chimes in, curiosity drowning in his geeky brown eyes, and for a second I wish he was a cat. After all curiosity killed the cat.
I reach for a towel and while I'm in Carly's down-stair's washroom, I shout back "Well it is raining outside and my umbrella has holes, why wouldn't I be wet?" I change out of my clothes and exchange them for the dry ones in the backpack strapped around my left shoulder.
Soon but later than I would've liked, I'm slumped on the couch in my gym clothes with my feet up on the table.
"Why would you use a umbrella with holes in it? That totally defeats it's purpose," Freddie informs me in that annoying whiny voice of his.
"Why did your mom give birth to you? That totally defeats the condom's purpose." I snap back at him half-heartily while my eyes stay glued to the Tv screen.
"Hey! For your information, my mother didn't use a condom!" He's too flustered to be thinking straight because he sets himself up for another insult.
"See that's where she went wrong. I bet even the doctors wished she had used a condom," my dry hair soon becomes wet again as Carly sprays me with her 'fight-a-proof' spray bottle. The big grin is gone, it washes away with the water.
"Sam, stop verbally assaulting Freddie." She talks down to me in her mother-mode voice.
"Hey the dweeb should have seen that last one coming." I complain while my eyes glare at Freddie's eager face. Even though he out grew that sick lost-puppy dog look in his eyes, he still irks me whenever he smiles. If there's any consolation prize, I have stopped physically abusing him, now that he doesn't drool over Carly whenever she's within five-meters of him.
I think the part I hate the most about him is the fact that everyone pities him. They pity him for his dead father, his over-bearing mother's controlling behaviour, and for being born dorky. I'm not trying to gain myself any brownie points but I'm the one with the careless mother, a father in jail for his fourth time, and unrequited love. At least the dorkward has himself a woman AND that impressive brain of his.
Me? I got nothing, nothing but Carly. And even then, I don't have her the way I wish I did.
Author's Rant: School will be the death of me, and position papers are my tormentor.
Anyways, I would like to dedicate this story to Mr. Fishy, we've never talked, well not technically but if words could speak, let's just say I'm a huge fan of Mr. Fishy's work. It's just a shame my writing can't do justice for my admiration to Mr. Fishy.