Splitting

"This can't be happening to me," Sam moaned as shook her head in disgust. "This has to be a nightmare! Freddie, pinch me and wake me up from this!"

"We both know if I even try to pinch you, you'll have me in a headlock in less than a second," Freddie said, watching his wife, somewhat amused. "And I've got to say…I think you're slightly overreacting."

"No!" Sam snapped. "This is a disaster! I feel like a complete failure!"

"You're upset because you can't eat an entire dozen of donuts on your own anymore," Freddie said, rolling his eyes.

"Stop saying it!" Sam hissed. "You're just making it worse!"

"Baby, come on, this isn't a big deal," Freddie said. "You still ate eleven! Most people could never eat twelve donuts in one sitting. Heck my record's only three!"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Sam sighed. "Am I supposed to be happy that I being brought down to your pathetic snacking levels?"

"We've discussed this Sam," Freddie said. "Just last month, in fact, when you had that whole episode when you got full after only one tub of chicken. You're getting older; it's completely natural that the insane eating habits that you had when you were younger would begin to get to you."

"So now I'm old too?" Sam cried.

"No!" Freddie said quickly. "No, I just-You just-I didn't-You look so pretty today."

"If I'm going to lose my eating skills with age, why can't you lose your doofishness," Sam mumbled darkly.

"Are those donuts?" Sam and Freddie's thirteen-year old daughter, Emma, asked as she came into the kitchen, followed closely by her twin sister, Ashton. "Are there any left?"

"There shouldn't be!" Sam said. "But since your mother is now a dumb loser who can only eat eleven donuts at once, there's one extra. You can have it…I don't want to even look at it."

"Sweet, I'm starving!" Emma smiled, ignoring her mother's dramatic response as she opened the donut box.

"Hey! What if I wanted the last donut?" Ashton frowned.

"You should've been quicker then," Emma shrugged.

"Daddy!" Ashton shouted indignantly, turning towards her father.

"Girls, just split the donut in half," Freddie sighed. "That way you both get the same amount."

"No way," Emma said at once. "This is a jelly donut."

"So?" Freddie frowned.

"So? If you try to split it, the filling will go everywhere," Ashton explained. "And then all you have is an empty pastry."

"Well then…I dunno, maybe you two can draw straws for it or something," Freddie suggested.

"No one draws straws anymore," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "I know! How about we arm wrestle for it, Ash?"

"Emma," Freddie started. "You two are not-"

"Okay," Ashton agreed, cutting her father off. "You're on. We'll arm wrestle and the winner gets the donut."

"Sam, are you going to say something here?" Freddie whispered urgently to his wife.

"What? It's just arm wrestling," Sam reasoned. "It's not like they're gonna get hurt."

"But do we really want to let our kids resolve their conflicts this way?"

"This is how my family solves everything," Sam shrugged. "Well, they actually wrestle, so unless you wanna go that route-"

"Fine, fine," Freddie said as the twins sat down at the table and prepared to arm wrestle. "This should be over pretty quick, at least. Emma will take Ashton down in about five seconds."

"Three," Sam corrected softly. "Emma's really been working on her upper hook; it's probably given her great upper body strength."

"Dad, can you count down for us?" Ashton asked as her and Emma gripped each others' fist, ready to begin.

"Sure thing, I love countdowns," Freddie said happily. "In five, four, three, two…"

The twins stared blankly up at him.

"You forgot the one," Emma frowned.

"No, I didn't forget it," Freddie said. "I purposefully left it out."

"Why? That's just confusing," Ashton said.

"It's what people do in the biz!" Freddie defended.

"The biz?" Emma repeated, smirking.

"One!" Sam yelled loudly before Freddie could reply. "Now go!"

"It's common knowledge that you never say the 'one' during a countdown," Freddie mumbled to Sam. "Isn't it?"

"Of course baby; it's written in every tech geek magazine ever published!" Sam nodded.

"You know, I realize that was meant to be sarcastic, but I'm going to choose to ignore it," Freddie said. "Even though-"

"Ha!" Ashton suddenly yelled as she slammed her twin's hand down on the surface of the table. "I win! That donut is mine!"

"What?" Freddie exclaimed. "Ashton won?"

"Holy chiz…" Sam said in disbelief. "Today keeps getting weirder and weirder. First I can't finish my donuts and now this? What's going on?"

"I-You-That-We have to go again!" Emma said, clearly just as surprised as her parents at her defeat. "My-My nose was itching me and-and that distracted me!"

"No way, I won fair and square," Ashton said, helping herself to the last donut.

"There's no way; I'm way stronger than you!" Emma snapped. "You cheated!"

"How can you cheat at arm wrestling?" Ashton grinned.

"I don't know, but you found a way!"

"Or maybe I'm just better at arm wrestling than you," Ashton shrugged.

"Ha!" Emma scoffed. "As if! Let's arm wrestle again and see if you can win then!"

"Maybe later, I'm a little full from that donut," Ashton smirked, licking the last of the powdered sugar from her fingers. "See you later!"

"She cheated!" Emma yelled again as Ashton headed out of the kitchen. "She had to! There's no other way! Man, now I'm hungry and angry! This sucks!"

"Well, this is going to be a fun afternoon," Freddie sighed as Emma stormed out. "She's more unbearable than you used to be when she gets in this mood. In fact I think I need to go hide my trains so she doesn't throw them again."

"Alright, you have fun with that," Sam said, pulling her car keys out of her pocket. "I'll see you in a little bit."

"Where are you going?"

"To the chicken place," Sam replied. "Maybe I'll feel a little better about this whole donut thing if I can reclaim my record there."

"Sam, are you insane? You just ate eleven donuts!" Freddie said.

"Stop rubbing it in!"

….

"Dad? How come mom is asleep on the couch?" Tyler asked later that evening as Freddie served the family dinner.

"She's in a food coma," Freddie sighed. "Your mom ate eleven donuts and one and a half tubs of chicken. I don't think she's gonna move from that spot until the morning."

"Isn't that what she normally eats?" Jason frowned.

"Yes," Freddie said. "But sometimes when people get older-"

"I can hear you in there!" Sam yelled from the living room. "And save me some of that meatloaf; I'm gonna need a midnight snack!"

"Emma, can you pass the rolls?" Ashton asked as the five Bensons' sat down at the table.

"Why? Shouldn't you be able to just lift the table up and slide them over to yourself?" Emma said coldly. "Since you're so strong?"

"Oh come on, is this still going on?" Freddie said.

"She's just jealous, that's all," Ashton shrugged, reaching across the table to retrieve the rolls herself. "She's upset that I'm stronger than her."

"Stop saying that! You're not stronger than me!" Emma said loudly. "I told you, that whole arm wrestling thing was a fluke! If we were to go again I would cream you!"

"Fine, let's do it," Ashton said, pushing her plate out of the way and holding out her arm. "Right now!"

"What? No! Girls, you're not going to arm wrestle at the dinner table!" Freddie said, rolling his eyes.

"Alright, let's go!" Emma said, ignoring her father as she grasped Ashton's hand. "On three! One, two, three!"

"Does nobody listen to me?" Freddie said, shaking his head. "It's like I'm-"

"Boom! I win! Again!" Ashton yelled as she slammed Emma's fist to table. "In your face!"

"How?" Emma exclaimed. "How is this possible? I'm the tough one! I've been flipping Quincy since we were five! I've seen every MMA fight in the past three years! All you do is wave your pom-poms at cheerleading practice!"

"And yet I'm still stronger," Ashton said, amused. "Funny how that worked out!"

"Dad! Ground her or something!" Emma said, turning towards her father.

"Emma, I'm not grounding your sister for beating you at arm wrestling," Freddie said, massaging his temples.

"Oh, so she's your favorite now?" Emma snapped, standing up.

"Huh? I never said-"

"Fine! Then I'll just eat in my room!" Emma declared, grabbing her plate and spinning on her heel.

"Well I'm eating in there too!" Ashton snapped, also grabbing her plate.

"Wait, Ashton, why are you-" Freddie started, but before he could finish, the girls had stormed out of the kitchen with their dinners.

"Dad?" Tyler asked. "Are all girls this crazy?"

"Not all girls, son," Freddie sighed. "Just the ones we live with."

…..

"Come on!"

"No!"

"Please? I'll do your homework for a week!"

"You don't even do your own homework!"

"Ashton!" Emma begged a few days later as the girls sat in their bedroom. "You have to give me a chance to redeem myself!"

"I've given you plenty of chances!" Ashton said, exasperated. "We've arm wrestled like, thirty times these past few days! And I've beaten you every single time. Just give it up, I'm better than you."

"No, you're not!" Emma said firmly. "You've just gotten lucky!"

"Thirty times?" Ashton said, raising an eyebrow.

"Come on, just one more time?" Emma pleaded.

"Ugh, fine!" Ashton conceded. "One more time. But this is it! You have to promise you'll stop bugging me if we do this!"

"Fine, fine, I promise," Emma said, pushing some papers off her desk and clearing space.

"Alright," Ashton said, taking her sister's hand. "Three, two, one…"

Within ten seconds, Ashton had easily pinned Emma's hand down on the desk.

"There, I win. Again!" Ashton said, rolling her eyes as Emma simply looked dumbstruck. "Now stop bothering me with this whole thing. I'm late to meet Clarissa at the mall. Do you want to come?"

"N-No," Emma mumbled.

"Suit yourself," Ashton shrugged, grabbing her purse. "See you later."

Once Ashton had left, Emma sank down on her bed. She couldn't believe that she had lost, yet again, to Ashton. Wasn't she supposed to be the strong one out of the two? How could Ashton, the girl who woke up a whole hour early every morning just so she could perfect her hair for school, beat her at arm wrestling repeatedly?

"Maybe I'm not so tough after all," Emma said softly to herself. "Maybe I should find a new thing."

She slowly stood up and grabbed an empty box from her closet. If she was going to give up being tough, she figured she should get rid of a few things. She picked up her Numchucks that her mom had given her for her last birthday and tossed them into the box, along with her MMA magazines and her karate belt from when she was younger.

"What are you doing?"

Emma turned around and saw her mother standing at her doorway.

"Just cleaning," Emma replied. "I thought I'd get rid of a few things."

"Like what?" Sam asked, walking over to box. She looked inside and frowned. "What are you getting rid of all this stuff for? I thought you loved these Numchucks?"

"I did," Emma said. "But what's the point of having them if I'm so weak that I can't even beat Ashton at arm wrestling? I decided I'm giving up fighting and being tough."

"Oh…" Sam said understandingly. "I see."

"Maybe I'll take up an instrument or something," Emma continued. "I know I used to make fun of the kids in the band, but maybe playing the flute or something won't be so lame."

"Emma, do you really think that because you lost to Ashton at arm wrestling, you're suddenly some weak old daffodil?" Sam said, sitting down on the bed.

"Mom, it's Ashton," Emma said. "She's the prissiest, girly-girl I know! She even says fighting is dumb! If I can't beat someone like her, what's the point?"

"Losing to Ashton isn't the end of the world," Sam said. "She's pretty tough herself, you know, even if she doesn't show that off."

"Sure," Emma scoffed.

"I'm serious," Sam said. "I mean she is my daughter, after all. I know she takes mostly after your dad, but I assume there's some of me in there. Besides, she's a cheerleader."

"That's your argument?" Emma frowned. "She's a cheerleader?"

"Hey, those chicks are stronger than you'd think," Sam said. "They do all those cartwheels and handsprings and pyramids. Ashton's probably got a lot of upper body strength from all that."

"I guess…" Emma muttered, though she didn't seem so convinced.

"Listen, I know you feel a little defeated right now," Sam said, putting her arm around her daughter. "But losing at arm wrestling doesn't make you any less tough than you've always been. Everybody loses at some point!"

"Not you," Emma pointed out. "You've never lost at arm wrestling."

Sam gave her a small smile. "Actually…I have."

"Really?" Emma said, looking up. "To who?"

"Your dad," Sam said.

"Dad?" Emma gasped in disbelief. "But he's so weak!"

Sam couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. "He's stronger than you'd think, just like Ashton. But anyway, it was back when we were younger. He had been working out and going to the gym more and more, and he was getting stronger, but I could always still beat him. It would just take a little longer. But then one day…he did it. He finally beat me. Apparently it was some lifetime goal of his. But he won and it made me feel just as terrible as you feel now. I mean, if a dorky nub like your dad could beat me at arm wrestling, how tough could I be?"

"Exactly!" Emma nodded.

"But you know what? I realized something that helped me get through that," Sam said. "Sure, it was cool to always win, but there was no challenge in that. But losing to your dad meant that now I had some motivation to become even better. And that motivation pushed me to become even stronger so that, eventually, I was right back to beating his nerdy butt."

"That really helped?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, it was a new goal for me to work towards," Sam nodded. "And now you have a new goal to work towards. With some practice maybe you can actually beat Ashton one day."

"You think?"

"Sure," Sam smiled. "Of course, for that can't happen if you just give up, can it?"

"I guess not," Emma admitted.

"You'll always be tough, Emma," Sam said, getting to her feet. "No matter what."

"Thanks, mom," Emma said, taking her Numchucks out of the box.

"Anytime, kid," Sam said, kissing the top of her head.

Once Sam left the twins' room, she headed down to the living room, where Freddie was sitting on his laptop.

"Hey," he said as she sat down next to her. "What's up?"

"I need you to go pick me up a dozen donuts," Sam said.

"Huh? Why?" Freddie said. "I thought you said you never wanted to see another donut in your life now that you can't eat a whole box."

"No," Sam said. "This just means that I have a new goal. I'm going to keep trying and trying until I can get back to downing a whole dozen donuts in one sitting!"

"Aw jeez," Freddie sighed.

"Shut up! That was motivational and inspiring!" Sam snapped, thumping the back of his head. "You should be cheering me on!"

"I would be," Freddie said heavily. "If I wasn't going to be the one who has to clean up the mess when you make yourself sick from all of this…"