Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly, nor the reference to the movie Anaconda or that bit I stole from the Simpsons included herein. I am, however, now a member of the Bickering Sidekicks forum. Also, check out cali-chan's newest Seddie-slanted fic, Best For You. Similarly, please excuse me for stealing a real life person's story of winning the lottery in New Hampshire. Well, at least some of it. Lastly, how many more months until the flippin sequel to iOMG? Wait, here's the real lastly: Emily, I will resume writing Trinity Blood fanfiction soon. No no no, wait, here it is: I am a meticulous planner about writing stories. This one is coming off the seat of my pants. Rock on, you Mighty Seddie Warriors!
iHate That Guy
By: James Austin Valiant
"So...that's your dad?"
"Mmm-hmm."
I shifted back and forth on my feet, trying to decide whether or not to make a break for it. It was all I could to not look at my long lost pops, who had been gone from my life for a nice, sweet ten years. And if I could convince this somewhat cute dorkus malorkus to swiftly follow me away from the scene of the crime, then maybe another ten years of Dad-free bliss would ensue. After a brief stare down, Dad had retreated to salvage his ruined sausage cart, and I got caught in Benson's shocked gaze.
"Wait, didn't you tell Carly and me that your dad was missing in action while hunting anacondas in the Amazon jungle?" Came the obvious first question.
"What movie was on TV the night that I told you guys that?"
"I think it was Ana-" He stopped suddenly, "Oh. So then what really happened?"
I rolled my eyes and started off in the opposite direction of the nub, but he grabbed my hand and I stopped dead in my tracks. It would have been easy enough to just throw him over my shoulder and find the nearest place to duck and cover in. This was the second time he'd grabbed my hand today, and as much as I wanted to slap it away, or throw out an insult, I couldn't. A teeny, tiny bit of me had melted, and I lost the urge to run.
"I wasn't a good father is what happened." My dad's voice sounded behind me, and Freddie released my hand so I could turn to face the man.
He looked wayyy different than I remembered. His belly hung disgustingly over his belt buckle, and his face had picked up age lines and wrinkles that were usually reserved for people who abused tanning beds. The Puckett male pattern baldness gene had hit right on cue, but of course, my father had combed the stupid thing over, making him look even dumber than he would've looked normally. Which was pretty dumb.
"How are you, Sammy? How's Mom and Melanie?"
"Like you care." I hoped the daggers that I was shooting at him from my eyes would make him slump away. "...but we've been just fine without you."
"And who's your little friend here?" My dad stuck out his hand towards Freddie, and I regressed the urge to bite it. "I'm Samuel Puckett, but you can call me Sam."
He shook hands. "Fred Benson."
I raised my eyebrows at the nub. Fred Benson? Was he trying to grow up quickly of all of the sudden? He wouldn't look at me, instead choosing to keep a strong and confident eye on my father. His shoulders were square, his handshake looked firm, and his voice seemed stronger than I'd ever heard it. Then it dawned on me; he was trying to show strength for my sake! I didn't need the help, or the support, but it was most definitely appreciated.
"So..." I traced my foot along the curb, wishing in the worst way my feet were pounding pavement.
"Yup." Dad clicked his tongue, and I hoped he was looking for a way out of this as badly as I was. "How's that Alaska Nebraska doing, hm?"
"Oh God, Dad, that show hasn't been on in years!" I screeched. Number one, my dad was being a blithering moron, and two, for letting Freddork know that I used to watch that dumb show on the Dingo Network. Sure, I rewatched an episode now and then, and it was cute when Milli and Colliver hooked u- snap out of it, Sam! Now Freddie would have all sorts of fodder to come back at me with during our insult wars, and I wasn't looking forward to him dropping that bombshell. "I mean, not that I'd expect you to know anything about anything, since you took off and made a great life for yourself in New Hampshire!"
"Sammy, honey-"
I waved my fist in his face. "Don't you dare call me that. Not after what you did."
Freddie's hand was on my shoulder, but that wasn't going to calm me down. I was ready to start screaming like Lewbert after someone walked on his freshly mopped floor. Freddie could sense this, and his grip on my shoulder reflected that. Maybe it was better to not make a scene here, in this crowded street where there was bound to be more cops than usual to patrol the festival. Even this massive collection of sausages around me wasn't enough to calm me down.
"Come on, Sam, let's just try to ca-"
"You don't understand, Fred," I started, putting an extra emphasis on the D, "this man is a bona fide, certified loser. He used to run a business, used to be head honcho of Puckett Petroleum. But he screwed that up, didn't ya, Dad? Couldn't balance a book to save his life and had to declare bankruptcy..."
"Sam, I think-"
"Oh no, Fredarla, that's not it," I was on a roll, "not only did this idiot lose the family business, but ya know what? Instead of looking for a job after the shop closed, he spent most of his time playing the chizzin' lottery, buying ticket after ticket after ticket. Oh sure, it paid off in the end, because he won one hundred and fifty two million dollars...but then what did he do? Take care of his family? Buy back his company? No, sir, that's not the Samuel Puckett way! He and his old secretary, Jennette, ran off to New Hampshire together so my dad could live out his stupid dream of running a stupid pro wrestling company in stupid New England!"
I spit on the ground, all lady-like and scowled at my dad, the big disgusting jerkwad who just stood there, running a hand through what was left of his hair.
"Well, that doesn't make any sense," Freddie said, scratching his head. "Why would a millionaire need to sell sausages on the corner?"
My dad chuckled. I wanted to hurl.
"Well, Fred, millionaires don't stay millionaires when their ex-wives clean them out. Jennette decided she'd had enough of my pro wrestling expenditures and filed for divorce. Lost everything." Dad sighed dejectedly.
For the first time since seeing his ugly face, I smiled. "Doesn't it just suck to lose, Dad?"
"Samantha, come on, I just want to-"
"Say you're sorry? You wanna start all over?" I scoffed. Even if I was pretty close to tears, there was no way I was showing him or the dork that. "Forget it, Pops. You ruined my life, you ruined Mom's life, and Melanie was so torn up she didn't recover until she won that scholarship. So buzz off, creepo."
I knew that would get him, maybe even squeeze a tear or two out of the miserable idiot. But my emotionless robot of a father just stood there, scratching his balding head and giving Freddie and I his trademark heavy sigh. I looked at his face, and felt some of my rage boil away. He looked...well, he looked tired. The worn out look of a man who felt defeated by life, even if he had been a multi-millionaire. He didn't have a wife, or a family who cared about him, or anything really, for that matter. He sighed again, and even though I really, really didn't want to, I felt a little bit of pity for the man.
"Samantha, I don't want to say I'm sorry or anything mushy or dumb like that. I...I just never thought, with everything that's happened and all, that I'd never see you again. So, it was, uh...it was good to see you again." He turned away from us, and wheeled his busted sausage cart down the sidewalk, disappearing among the throngs of people.
"So...that's your dad?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"I don't think I like him."
"Mmm-hmm."
"Ya wanna get a wienerschnitzel and a funnel cake?"
"Mmm-hmm."
The dork started to walk off, and I grabbed his hand. He looked at me, a little surprised, but I pretended not to notice. A surge of energy passed through me, probably from trying to bring down all the rage that been flowing through me just a few minutes ago. Freddie shivered a bit, feeling the intensity pass to him from me. He let go of my hand, wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close to him. We walked like this to the wienerschnitzel stand, and I did my best to resist the urge to give him a flat tire.
