Once safely in the elevator, Freddie had a thought. "You know, this whole napalm mixing in your home thing might be Spencer's strange way of getting back at you."
"For what?" Carly asked.
"Dude!" Sam replied. "You locked him in a box all night and electrocuted him while blindfolded. I wouldn't have even thought of that."
"Shocking, right?" Freddie volunteered. Sam groaned at the bad attempt at a joke.
The doors opened, revealing the lobby as Carly defended herself. "Well, it was the easiest way to get an A on the semester project. Spencer used to be in Mr. Heisenberg's class, too, and he never could stand my brother back then. As soon as I ran the idea of putting Spencer in a sensory chamber past him, he loved it. He even suggested some of the stuff Gibby and I did the other night."
"Something about Mr. Heisenberg creeps me out a little bit. You can never quite tell where he stands," Freddie joked.
"Wow, that was lame. Explain to me why I'm on a date with you?" Sam demanded.
"I don't know; you tell me since whatever we're doing tonight was your idea," Freddie shot back.
"Oh, yeah. I forgot nothing turns a girl on more than a constant stream of obscure Galaxy Wars references," Sam retorted while picking up a chunk of scrapple from the plate sitting unguarded in front of a snoring Lewbert.
"The force is strong with this one."
Sam let the scrapple fall to the floor, grabbed Freddie's jacket by the lapels and reeled him in. "Ooooh, Fredly, talk Horclop to me!"
"What creeps me out a little bit is how I can't quite tell whether or not you're joking right now, Sam," Carly interjected while fervently wishing she and Sam hadn't rented A Fish Called Wanda last week.
"Dios mio, now there's grease on my jacket!" Freddie clutched at his coat. "And what kind of mystery meat was that, anyway?" he said as he tried to wipe the stubborn coat grease from his hands.
"Trust me when I say you don't wanna know. Besides, where we're headed it won't matter if there's a little grease on your jacket," Sam replied while pawing more of Freddie's coat. "Oh, and Carly," she continued while grinning wickedly, "'Sono italiano in spirito' – it's really too bad you don't speak Russian, Fredward."
Freddie, meanwhile, looked hopelessly confused.
"God, I wish we hadn't seen that movie," Carly grimaced while staring at the ceiling. "Anyway, I've gotta go see a man about some pulverized fruit, get my mind off the frighteningly flammable and sticky weaponized chemicals in my home, and maybe see if I can't find some industrial strength brain bleach while I'm at it."
She smiled at the couple. "You kids have fun." The smile turned to a mock glare. "But not too much fun!"
"Yes, mother," Sam said as she rolled her eyes and Carly turned down the street toward the Groovie Smoothie. "Spokojnoj Nochi!" Sam shouted gleefully after her, and Carly's walk broke into a run.
"So where are we headed?" asked Freddie as the pair went the opposite direction from their friend.
"Bus stop," Sam replied.
"And then what?"
"Get onto the bus."
"That's gonna?"
"That's gonna take you back to Beelzebub!" Sam snapped playfully. "Jeez, Freddie, can't you see I'm tryin' to be all mysterious and alluring and crud here?"
"Honestly, you don't have to try to be alluring. But you're definitely working overtime on mysterious."
"When did you get so smooth? Back in the day, I would've punched you for that."
Before Freddie could come up with an equally smooth retort, the bus pulled up in narratively convenient fashion. "Our redolent chariot awaits," Sam beckoned with a wink, and she held out a hand to Freddie as she stepped on first. He took her hand in his and boarded the bus.
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, nor do I own any of the characters. I also don't own the rights to A Fish Called Wanda, nor do I own the rights to the aural brilliance of Soul Coughing. I don't even own a bumper sticker that says "Heisenberg may have slept here." In short, I own neither jack nor squat. Tally ho!