Kill
"Dude, this has got to be the most pointless show on television," Spencer said, watching the screen.
"What? How can you say that?" Gibby exclaimed.
"The mouse just turned into a butterfly," Freddie pointed out. "How does anything in this show even make sense?"
"He drank that butterfly potion," Gibby said, shaking his head at the other two.
"If I had the energy to get up and get the remote to change the channel, I would," Spencer said.
"How long have we been sitting here?" Freddie yawned, eating a handful of popcorn.
"Eleven hours," Spencer replied. "A new record."
"Sweet," Gibby grinned.
A commercial came on, interrupting the show.
"Man, right at the good part," Gibby sighed. He pulled out his pearphone. "Hey, look at this new app I downloaded this morning. It's this singing calendar. See, I entered in today's date and-"
"What?" Freddie said suddenly, grabbing the phone out of Gibby's hand. "It's the thirteenth today?"
"Yeah, why?" Spencer frowned.
"It's mine and Sam's anniversary!" Freddie said, jumping up, throwing Gibby his phone back. "I was supposed to meat her at The Boiling Pot at six and it's already-" he looked down at his watch. "Five forty-seven!"
"Wow, she's going to kill you if you're late," Gibby commented.
"Yeah, especially on your anniversary," Spencer nodded.
"I know that, thanks," Freddie snapped. "Man…you think I could borrow a shirt and tie, Spence?"
"Yeah, go grab one," Spencer nodded. "Hurry!"
"Get some shoes from him too," Gibby said, looking at Freddie's sneakers. "The Boiling Pot is a classy place."
Within three minutes Freddie was all changed.
"I'm taking these," Freddie said, grabbing the roses from a vase on Spencer's counter.
"Hey! Those were from Socko's grandmother!" Spencer called after Freddie as he ran out the front door.
The Boiling Pot was about twenty-five minutes away, but going well above the speed limit, Freddie managed to get there in fifteen. When he pulled into the parking lot he looked at his watch. 6:08. Crab, he was still late. Getting out of his car he ran up to the restaurant. Sam was probably already sitting at their table, plotting many painful ways for him to pay for his tardiness. He had just entered the restaurant was about to approach the greeter when the restaurant door opened again and Sam ran in, flustered and out of breath.
"Hi," she said, starting over to him. "I'm so, so, so sorry I'm late. I was with Carly at the smoothie and we kind of lost track of time."
Freddie blinked, unsure how to handle this change of events. "Um, it's okay," he said.
"No, it's not," Sam said. "Sure, it's not a big deal when I'm late for our regular dates, but this one was supposed to be special."
"Well, yeah, but it's not the end of the-"
"Tell you what," Sam whispered in his ear as she leaned up to kiss him. "Tonight after dinner, we'll go back home and do whatever you want."
Freddie grinned. Well, he was a guy, after all…
"I was starting to get worried about you," Freddie said. "But hey, I guess I can forgive you."
