Author's Note: Bon apres-midi, my readers. Thank you so much for all your positive feedback! I didn't think I'd be staying home again today, but I got a fever again yesterday. Thus, I was able to give you wonderful guys chapter three! I've been sick a lot this year. One of my friends thought I was sick for a month.
Guy Friend #1: Whoa, (Band Geek Letter 1's name) you're back! You were sick a lot.
Band Geek Letter 1: I've been well for the past three weeks.
Guy Friend #1: But you were gone for like, a month!
Band Geek Letter 1: For the last time, (Guy Friend #1's name) I was sick for two weeks, I was well for two weeks, then I got sick again, for two weeks.
Anyways, thank you guys so much! I'll keep posting. Without further ado, Chapter Three.
Conceit and Contemptuousness
Chapter Three
The next day at precisely 2:59 I stood outside the Bingley's apartment again, camera and laptop in tow. I knocked on the door, expecting the butler to answer but was surprised to find Miss Darcy staring back at me. I just stared into the sapphire depths of her eyes until I forced myself to speak.
"May I come in?" I finally asked.
"Uh, sure, Mr. Bennet," She answered and moved out of the way. I carried the bags in and stood just inside the door while she closed it. Carly bounded down the stairs at this extremely opportune moment, interrupting the awkward silence that had reappeared.
"Oh Freddie, I'm so glad you came!" She exclaimed.
"Thanks, the pleasure is all mine, Miss Bingley." I responded.
"I insist that you call us by our first names," She scolded.
"Gladly, Carly," I said.
"What is he doing here?" Miss Darcy, er rather, Samantha, interrupted.
"He and John are going to be the technical producers for our web show!" Carly announced.
"Ha! I knew he was a dork!" She boasted.
"Hey!" I chided. "I resent that Samantha!"
"Whatever, Freddork." She began. "But unless you want to have a date with righty," she pointed to her right hand, which was culred up in a fist. "Don't call me Samantha. Sam is fine." She, Carly, and I walked to the elevator. I was still seething, but I would have to try and get along with her, for John's sake. I could not understand how a nice girl like Carly could be friends with this rude, obnoxious, cold, and conceited… thing!
"Here we are, in the studio!" She proclaimed, once we were in the room. It was the same room I had visited earlier, but it was decorated differently. The bed he was in had been pushed to the side, and was now a car with a bed instead of seats. The floor had been waxed, and various colorful baubles had been hung or shelved around the room. John was sitting on a beanbag. There were five beanbags.
"Why are there five chairs instead of four?" I asked, perplexed.
"The fifth one's for my feet." Sam explained as she sat down and propped her feet up on a second beanbag. 'Typical,' I thought to myself. Carly and I took our seats.
"I think we should call the show iCarly," John stated. And so began a rigorous discussion of all things comedic and internet related. I hate to admit it, but Sam was probably the funniest out of all. In between calling me various names, finding out more of my supposed "dorkiness" from John, she came up with some hilarious bits. My favorite was "The Cowboy With a Moustache and the Idiot Farm Girl Who Thought the Moustache was a Squirrel".
After two hours Carly, Sam and I returned downstairs so John could get some rest. Sam sat down at the computer and began typing something out while Carly and I watched Girly Cow. Spencer, who had been downstairs already, wandered around the room until he stopped in front of Sam.
"What ya writing?" He asked her.
"Business letters," She answered, not bothering to take her eyes off the computer screen.
"Oh, that sounds dreadfully odious," Spencer said. "Wouldn't you agree Freddie?"
"Well, it depends on the type of business," I replied.
Clearly unsatisfied with my reply, Spencer inquired. "Won't you join me for a turn around the room to view my sculptures?" I got up and walked around with him. It seemed a little strange, quite honestly.
"Won't you join us, Sam?" He asked.
"Nah," She responded. "I've seen your sculptures billions of times, and you two are obviously discussing your 'manliness', or Freddork's lack thereof, so I think I'll just keep writing these letters."
"Oh, how rude! Freddie, we must punish him. But how?" Spencer asked.
"Are you too proud, Sam? And would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?" I inquired.
"That I couldn't say," She replied.
"Because we're doing our best to find a fault in you." I explained.
"Maybe it's that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."
"Oh dear, I cannot tease you about that. What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh."
"A family trait I suppose," Spencer interrupted.
There was another silence before I said, "Well, I must be going now. Good day," And with that I walked towards the door. After that incident I felt it was time to return home before Mom called the Police and reported me missing. (Believe me. That's actually happened.)
