Alright, here's the deal with the next two chapters. This chapter is the date night from the Gibby/Carly perspective, and the next chapter is the same date night from the Freddie/Sam perspective. So, in summation, two chapters, one night.
Fair warning, I have not an idea where the hell this chapter came from. I just sat down and starting writing and…this came out. I can only hope you don't tar and feather me for making it so absolutely ridiculous. Of course, most of this show is absolutely ridiculous in the first place, so maybe it fits.
In any case, have fun.
I don't own anything I mention. It's easier that way.
…
"So I tell the guy, poker? I hardly know her!" Gibby said with a resounding laugh, turning on his left hand blinker of his car, then leaning back to wait for the light to turn green.
"I don't get it." His female companion stated, looking at him from the passenger seat.
"So I tell the guy, poker? I hardly know her!" he repeated, louder this time.
"You yelling it at me doesn't make me get it, or make it any funnier." She replied to him.
"Poker? It sounds like poke-her…get it? Poke-her, I hardly know her…" he trailed off, willing her to understand the joke.
"No I get that, but why would it be funny to poke someone? That's pretty boring, not to mention rude." She said and he sunk his head. "Green light." She instructed and he looked up to see the neon green staring back at him and he lurched the car forward, turning onto another street.
"No, poke-her doesn't literally mean poke-her, it means…you know, that." He said cryptically and Carly shook her head at him.
"Well what else could poke mean?" she asked.
"Sex Carly, it's sex. It's just another way to describe sex." He said bluntly, tired of trying to get her to understand.
She was silent for a moment, before pulling a face "That's awkward."
"Well it is now that I had to explain it to you!" he exclaimed, and this time she actually laughed. "What do you find the joke funny now?"
She snickered a little "No, you just look like a dyslexic lemming when you're frustrated. It's cute, in the 'Aw, he's chewing on an eraser shaped like Bugs Bunny.' way."
He pondered it for a moment, imagining it and he laughed "Yeah, you're right, that is hilarious. Although I kind of saw myself as a 'confused elder chimpanzee that just wishes things would go back to the way they were.'" He said and she laughed with him.
"I'm not sure which is more frightening, the fact that we had that conversation, or the fact that I understood it." She said as he turned into the parking lot of a restaurant she had never been to before. "Where are we?" she asked.
He parked the car and pulled the parking brake up "It's a little place I came to one day after my meeting with the Duke of Kettle corn my lady." He said in a bad British accent, before getting out of the car and quickly going to the other side to let her out.
He opened the door to her laughing "Why thank you my lord." She replied in a worse British accent, and he grinned back at her. "It is rather chivalrous of you to assist me in my endeavors, cheerio and all that." She giggled, breaking the accent as he pulled her to the front door of the restaurant.
She looked up at the sign above the restaurant, then back at Gibby with a confused expression gracing her features "Where the hell are we?" she asked.
"We are at the Vous Trop Cher Pour La Nourriture de Merde. It's French, I think. I was never really good with other languages." He said.
"Ooh, foreign. I like it." Carly praised, looking at the place. "So that's why you made me dress up to come to dinner." She said, gesturing to her dress and he shrugged. "But this place looks really expensive Gibby." She said, concern in her face.
He shrugged again "Don't worry about it. I'm not paying for it." He said and she stared at him, her eyebrow arching. "You aren't either."
"Then who is?" she asked slowly, fearing that he was going to casually mention a third member to their party, or one of them selling drugs to school children. Or worse, a third member to their party that sells drugs to school children.
"Freddie." He stated.
"Why would Freddie pay for you and me to have dinner at an expensive restaurant?" she asked.
"Um he's a nice guy?" he said, but she continued to stare him down, so he thought quickly on his feet "Freddie felt bad about leaving you alone on a Friday, so when I told him we were going to hang out, he offered… to pay." He cringed at how stupid that sounded.
But she seemed to accept it "So you decided on an expensive place because someone else is fitting the bill?"
"Sure, let's go with that." He said, offering his arm to escort her into the restaurant.
"Alright then." She said, and still looked skeptical, but took his arm anyway and entered the restaurant. When they entered, she noticed it looked as she expected it to look. Dimly lit, flowers hanging from the rafters, waiters looking like they were being paid minimum wage, but had to act like they were as fancy as the restaurant, and the music was in eight different languages, none of them English.
"I've never been here before." Gibby leaned to whisper in her ear. "But just in case we need a back-story, I'm a rich entrepreneur who invented tiny frozen pancakes, and you're my mail order trophy wife who only speaks German."
"I don't speak German." She whispered back.
"It's okay, I don't either." He replied and she just shook her head as they got to the podium, where a very bored looking employee was leaning, staring at the ceiling. They stood there for a few seconds before he finally noticed their presence.
"Hey, welcome to…I'm sorry folks, I really don't give a damn anymore." He said, sighing, looking up at them. "I put my two week notice in like a week and a half ago and this is my last shift here, and I have like five minutes left. So welcome to this hellhole that I've sunk four years of my life into, do you have reservations?"
"Yes we do my good man. I am Sir Charles Gibson of…Bushwell, and this is my wife…Ivana…Hump." He said in his bad British accent and Carly instantly hit him on the shoulder.
"Gibby!" she shrieked, and he just shrugged and sent a sheepish glance at her.
"Are you shitting me or is your name really Ivana Hump?" the employee asked and she continued to glare at Gibby.
"I'm sorry my good fellow, but she only speaks German." Gibby told the man and he just rolled his eyes.
"Of course she does. Like I said before, I honestly don't give a shit anymore. But you do have reservations, and your table is…somewhere over there." He pointed towards the back of the restaurant. "Hey Antonio! Take these people away from me so I can go home! The noose isn't going to tie itself!" he yelled back at the kitchen, and walked off, leaving the two alone.
"When we leave we are going to have a serious discussion about your relationship with women!" she whispered frantically into his ear. "First that terrible joke in the car and now Ivana Hump? You know, you should be more respectful of…"
"Nag, nag, nag you're really playing this wife thing well." He said and she snarled at him and he gulped, but was saved by a tanned man walking up to them, a towel draped over his arm.
"Hello, my name is Antonio Rodrigo de Marché, and I will be your server tonight." He said, his voice thick in a Spanish accent.
"My name is Sir Charles Gibson of Bushwell, but you may just call me Sir Charles Gibson. This is my wife Ivana…" he trailed off when he received a hard glare from Carly "…Smith."
"Very good Sir Charles Gibson, may I lead you to your table?" he asked, turning and motioning for them to follow him. Carly elbowed Gibby hard in ribs and smirked triumphantly when he whispered an apology.
Gibby looked around the restaurant for any sign of Freddie and Sam. He got there exactly ten minutes after they did like they had coordinated, and by the way Freddie set up the reservations, they were supposed to pass their table while getting to theirs, and they were only going to be a few tables away from them. But he didn't have to look long, because Antonio was violently pulled off his path when he passed a certain table.
"Hey Antonio! Bring me some more of that bread you brought, or I'll eat your arm instead!" a familiar voice yelled at the tanned man, and he looked fearful.
"Ye-Yes Madam Belalcàzar, anything you want. Anything for you, great Conquistador?" he asked the man opposite her and he just shook his head.
"Is that Freddie and Sam?" Carly asked Gibby and he just shrugged, reaching the table to see that it was in fact Freddie and Sam. Carly looked at Gibby with a confused expression, but he just shrugged, playing it off as a coincidence.
Freddie looked up to see them, relief flooding into his eyes "Oh look, it's Gibby and Carly! What an odd coincidence!" he said loudly, obviously a little nervous as well. "Isn't it odd Gibby?" he pressed.
"Oh um…yeah! What a…situation?" he replied.
"Hey guys, I'm surprised to see you here." Carly said, and Gibby took in her expression as not skeptical, and he let out a sigh of relief. But Sam looked up, just now realizing someone else was there, and she saw Gibby and Carly, and she looked shocked for a moment, taking them in. But she quickly put two and two together, and her stare hardened into a glare she aimed at Freddie.
"You little son of-"
"Bread!" Freddie yelped, his voice cracking slightly with nervous chuckles "Have some more bread Sam!" he said, shoving some of his bread on her plate. "You're a growing girl and such!"
"Freddie…I swear to everything holy that I'm going to…" Carly and Gibby didn't hear the rest of her threat because Gibby pushed Carly away towards Antonio who was at their table, so Sam wouldn't blab something Carly wasn't supposed to hear.
"Here you are Sir Charles Gibson, and the lovely Ivana Smith." He said with a smile and they sat down at the table. "I will be right back with your bread and to get your drink orders." He said and swiftly walked away.
"I still hate the name Ivana." She said to Gibby and he laughed.
"It was the only thing I could of on the spot. Look at it this way, at least you don't have to talk to anyone, because they think you don't speak English." He pointed out.
"But I like talking, being silent sucks, especially when you're the person who has to speak for me." She said, glaring playfully at him and he grinned. "But it is weird that Sam and Freddie are here as well."
"Heh yeah…weird." He said and noticed she was staring at their table, and allowed himself to think that maybe Freddie had the right idea, that this date idea wasn't a total failure like Gibby expected all of Freddie's plans to be, but she didn't look long, and she refocused back on him.
"Anyway, what's the real reason you brought me to this fancy place? This doesn't seem like the place for two friends to hang out on a Friday night." She ventured, looking at him with an arched eyebrow.
"I like acting like a rich guy?" he said and her expression didn't change. How was he supposed to explain it to her? He couldn't exactly tell her the truth, or Freddie would have two women who want to rip him limb from limb.
"Is this a date Gibby?" she asked and his eyes widened and he shook his head from side to side.
"Ha, you wish it was a date." He replied.
"Then why did you bring me here?" she asked.
"You looked hungry." He replied and she sighed.
"I'm serious Gibby, what's the deal?" she questioned and he honestly contemplated just telling her what was going on, to save his own self, but he was too good of a friend to do that to Freddie. So maybe he could swallow his pride just this once, for the sake of a friend. Who at the end of the night owes him a lot more than just a free dinner and movie tickets.
He let out a sigh "Fine. I may have tricked you into going on a date with me." He said, bowing his head and looking at her out of the corner of his eye, gauging her reaction.
She just sat there for a second, and then just simply smiled "Just to let you know, you didn't have to trick me into a date. You just had to ask, I would have said yes." She said and he smiled back briefly, but then realized what she said and fear struck down his spine.
"If you could just excuse me for a moment." He said nervously, sliding out of his chair and he nearly sprinted to Freddie's table, leaving a bewildered Carly behind. He got to the table quickly, and saw Sam and Freddie in conversation.
"No way, a possum would totally defeat a housecat in mortal combat." Sam said, a piece of bread hanging out of her mouth.
"A housecat has experienced the joys of living in a safe environment. It would be more driven to keep its lifestyle." Freddie replied, sipping his water.
"A possum lives a more dangerous life, and he is street smart. He'll take down a pampered housecat any day." She said back.
"Not necessarily. If they're both in a gladiator arena, being street smart wouldn't help a possum anyway. The housecat is more agile, and can outmaneuver a possum." Freddie said, then finally looked up to see Gibby standing there. "Hey Gibby, what's up?"
"We have a serious problem." Gibby said quickly and Freddie looked confused.
"When don't you have a problem?" Sam asked him, but he ignored her.
"We need to talk." Gibby said, pulling Freddie away from the table.
"I'll be back." He said to Sam before he got too far away. Gibby pulled him in front of the hallway leading to the bathrooms, before Freddie pulled his arm away.
"What's going on Gibby, what's wrong?" he asked as Gibby began pacing back in forth in the restaurant, earning a few curious glances he didn't pay heed to.
"Dude, I think Carly likes me." He said and Freddie's jaw dropped.
"You can't be serious." Freddie replied slowly and Gibby shook his head.
"I'm completely serious. She kept pushing and asking why we're here, and how two friends hanging out don't come to places like this, and I couldn't tell her the truth! I said that I tricked her into a date with me, hoping she would just drop it, but then she said 'You didn't have to trick me Gibby, I think your super hot, and totally cool, and definitely not a mermaid.' I might be paraphrasing though. Point is, I think she likes the idea of a date with me!" he ranted, causing more glances his way from the other patrons of the restaurant.
Freddie was silent, dumbstruck at his friend's rant. But he finally composed himself "What the hell Gibby? You made Carly like you?"
"It's not my fault my rugged good looks, undying charm, and witty nature has captured the hearts of millions, including Carly!" he responded, throwing his hands in the air.
"You're supposed to helping me woo Carly, not making her like you! I can't believe you're going to stab me in the back like this!" he yelled.
"I'm not stabbing you in the back! I don't think I like Carly back, but she likes me man! I'm not going to intrude on you, I was just trying to help!" he retorted, and more and more stares were being issued to the freaking out duo.
"Oh you helped alright, helped ruin my plans!" he yelled at him. "You didn't like my plans to get Carly to begin with, and now I see why! You want her for yourself!"
"Damnit dude, no I don't! I was just being myself, and she liked me! I swear that I wasn't trying to steal her or anything like that! I wouldn't do that to a friend, you know that." Gibby said and Freddie continued to glare at him, before looking away and swearing under his breath.
"Damnit Gibby." He tried again, but sighed. "I guess it isn't your fault. But what are we going to do now? If she likes you, she won't like me, and that's the plan!"
"I don't think there is anything we can do! I think we just have to hope she starts to not like me or something." He replied.
"You could act like a complete prick to her, and make her not like you." Freddie offered, but Gibby shook his head vehemently.
"You're my friend and all, but I'm not going to lose Carly as a friend because you need to eliminate me as 'competition for Carly's heart'." Gibby said and Freddie nodded.
"Yeah, I guess it would be cruel of me to ask you to piss off Carly. Just don't try anything funny and maybe she'll just think it's a little crush or something." He said and Gibby was going to respond, before the sound of a clearing throat made them turn to the source.
They saw Antonio, with a few other waiters behind him as back up apparently. "Sir Charles Gibson, Conquistador Sebastiàn de Belalcàzar, please take your seats. You are disturbing the other guests tonight."
"Oh sorry old chap." Gibby said.
"Mis disculpas, mi amigo." Freddie responded and they followed him back to their tables. "Sir Charles Gibson?" Freddie whispered to Gibby in question.
"Back story. I'm a rich entrepreneur with a mail order German wife named Ivana Hump. Sebastiàn de Belalcàzar?" he asked back.
"Same. Decedent of a Spanish Conquistador with a pregnant American wife. I have to explain somehow why she's going to eat three times her body weight in food." He replied and Gibby nodded in understanding.
Gibby made it back to the table to find Carly with an accusing look on her face "Have fun?"
He rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly "Sorry I ran off there. I had to talk to Freddie about…Galaxy Wars stuff." He said.
"In the middle of both of our dates?" she asked and he cringed when she said the word 'date', but he tried to not let it show.
"It was really important." He replied and she just rolled her eyes with an amused laugh.
"Antonio Rodrigo de Marché came by so I just ordered you a peppy cola." She said, trying to add a Spanish accent to his name, to which he laughed at.
"Thanks doll." He replied.
"Doll?" she asked.
"I'm trying it out." He replied.
"Don't."
"Point taken."
Dinner went by relatively uneventful, but Gibby caught Carly a few times glancing at Freddie and Sam, as lines of waiters were giving Sam barrel full's of food, as Freddie silently cried, his head down. Gibby tried to time out his eating with Freddie's departure, but with Sam always demanding more food it was hard for him to keep up the act of a casual dinner.
But eventually, either by Sam's stomach being full, her actually feeling bad that Freddie had to fit the entire bill, or by a miracle from God himself, she stopped eating. It was probably number three. They left and Gibby finished his food, asking Antonio for the check as Sam and Freddie left the restaurant.
He pulled out the blank check Freddie gave him and filled it out, and gave it to Antonio. "Come along my dear wife, the chariot awaits." He said to Carly and offered his arm again. She took it and they left the restaurant into the cold Seattle night.
"Where to now?" she asked him as they got to his car.
"I was thinking the movies." He stated, unlocking the car.
"You want to go to the movies, dressed like we are?" she asked and he shrugged.
"We'll be the best dressed there." He replied and she laughed and nodded.
"To the movies!" she proclaimed, getting into the car and shutting the door.
He started the car and backed out of the space as she put her seatbelt on "Wouldn't it be funny if we saw Freddie and Sam at the movies too?" she asked and he laughed, not for the reason she was thinking of course.
"That would be funny."
They got to the theatres and Gibby quickly texted Freddie for the movie that Sam chose to see. He got an instant response with the movie title and a sad face, a "Sorry, it was her choice." next to it. He offered his arm again to her when they got out of the car, but she bypassed it and grabbed his hand instead.
He was a little uncomfortable, but didn't let it show as they went up to the ticket counter. "Hiya Barbara!" he chirped at the bored looking attendant, with the name tag.
"Yeah whatever." She replied, popping her gum and slouching her seat. "What the hell do you want to see?"
"Um…can I get two tickets to Blowing Shit Up With Michael Bay." He asked and she rolled her eyes.
"What a romantic." She grumbled and handed him the tickets in exchange for his cash. "Here, try not to fornicate in the back of theatre please."
"Um…we'll try." He said, backing away from the attendant quickly and entered the building with Carly. He gave the tickets to the other employee who gave him back the stubs, telling him which theatre their movie will be playing in.
"Do you want anything from the concession stand?" he asked her and she shook her head.
"No I'm fine, we just had…" but she trailed off when she glanced towards the concession stand and saw a familiar blonde and brunette at the front of one of the lines, the blonde holding the employee by the collar of his shirt, snarling into his face, the brunette with his head bowed in shame.
"Freddie and Sam are here!" Carly exclaimed in surprise. Gibby feared the worst, because at that time she started to look rather skeptical and she was thinking, but Gibby had the good fortune that she didn't call him out on it.
They went up to the stand and the employee had his hands up, beads of sweat on his forehead "I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm not sure I can get that for you."
"All I want is a large popcorn, with salt and butter, topped with barbeque sauce. Is that so hard you little punk?" she growled at him.
"I don't think we have barbeque sauce here ma'am." He replied, his voice cracking.
"Well then you better find it and put it on my popcorn, or the least of your worries will be whether or not I decide to make your face black and blue, got it gimpy?" she asked and he gulped and nodded. "Good, now find it and be back here in less than five minutes, or I'll find you. Go!" she yelled at him, releasing his collar and he sprinted away.
"That was subtle." Freddie mumbled.
"Your face is subtle." She retorted.
"Sam, was it really necessary to threaten that guy for just doing his job?" Carly asked and Sam's head shot in her direction.
"What a surprise that you're here." Sam said dryly, making Carly confused, but Gibby stepped in before she could voice her confusion.
"It's a night of coincidences! Who knew Seattle could be so small?" he exclaimed.
"Yeah! What a strange world!" Freddie added.
"Both of you are losers!" Sam added with a glare at them. "I'm going to go get a seat. Freddie, stay and get my popcorn. If it doesn't have barbeque sauce on it, don't bother coming into the theatre." Sam said and left down the corridor towards the theatre.
"What's wrong with Sam? How come she's acting like that towards me?" Carly asked Freddie, and he had an apologetic look on his face.
"It isn't you Carly, she's just frustrated." Freddie explained.
"About what?" Carly asked.
"You know…things." He trailed off and Gibby mentally smacked his forehead. "I think her third steak was undercooked or something." Freddie recovered, hoping Carly would go against her very nature and spare them an explanation they don't have.
"You aren't telling me everything." She stated simply.
"I don't know Carly! It's Sam! You know how she gets!" Freddie exclaimed. "I swear she's bipolar, or something."
"Maybe it's her time of the month." Gibby intervened modestly and everything seemingly just stopped and Carly and Freddie just stared wild-eyed at Gibby, the most uncomfortable silence that has ever occurred laid between them. Freddie started to take a few steps away towards the theatre.
"Okay…I draw the line at menstrual cycles. I'm going to go find Sam." Freddie said uncomfortably, turning on a dime and heading down the hallway.
"You forgot Sam's popcorn!" Gibby yelled at him.
"Whatever Sam is going to do to me is preferable than staying in that conversation!" he yelled back and Gibby shrugged, looking back at Carly.
"Was it something I said?" he asked. Carly just shook her head and they started to head down the hallway their friends had just gone down, on the way to the theatre. Gibby was feeling triumphant regardless, he had got Carly to drop the subject, and made Freddie unbelievably uncomfortable at the same time. He calls that a win-win.
He maneuvered Carly to get the seats directly behind Freddie and Sam so they would be directly in view throughout the whole movie, and he looked up at the screen to see a preview of another terrible romantic comedy, with a terrible title that included a pun.
That one passed soon enough and on came another preview, about a "historical event", that by the end of movie you think you know everything about the subject, when in reality, you don't know a damn thing, because the director took so many "creative liberties" that he/she completely skews what actually happened, thus dooming tons of movie goers who try to talk about the subject with an actual historian or history teacher, only to get stared at with resignation and pity (i.e. 300 and Valkyrie.)
But finally the feature presentation disclaimers started to appear, and Gibby sat back in his seat watching as Carly looked at the screen, then back at Freddie and Sam, then back up to the screen. All the ads of the producers and film companies had passed and they were all staring at a black screen.
Bam! An explosion erupted on the screen and a tall shirtless white guy ran out onto a helipad with the hot, maybe white, maybe Latina, girl in his arms. A hundred different guys in black suits and black sunglasses and shooting him with high powered machine guns, with no recoil apparently, but every single shot missed because hell, he's the hero.
"We have to get to the chopper! This place is going to blow!" the shirtless guy yells, tossing a live grenade behind him and it explodes, but he doesn't look at it or slow down because he's the hero. Hero's don't look at explosions.
"Why?" the hot girl asks.
"Because we have to assassinate the drug cartel leader that I just shot with my gun! This whole place is about to explode, and cause billions of dollars of damage to innocent civilians and the surrounding areas, all to kill one guy and end his evil operations! But we never explain how the community that has witnessed the terrible tragedy to their homeland adapts to everyday life after the loss of their loved ones because were American and they're some kind of foreign!" he yells while eight more explosions happen behind him.
"Why not just shoot him and be done with it? It seems kind of pointless to blow up this large building to kill one guy!" she yells back through another explosion.
"Shut up ho and kiss me while I run and explode things behind me!" he yells and she swoons like it says in her script that was not run by her before they started filming.
They jump into the conveniently placed helicopter that doesn't have a scratch on it, even though thousands of bullets have been shot at it in the last two minutes, and the plain old pilot who wished he got the day off starts the take off.
"Oh Lawdy, you done good white boy!" the overtly racist black guy yells from the passenger seat of the helicopter, trying to hide the fact that he is irritated because he has ten years of acting lessons from one of the best schools in the country and can recite perfect Shakespeare in Latin while sleeping, and he keeps getting cast as the token black guy with bad grammar and pronunciation.
He sticks a military-issue machine gun out the window and fires it with one hand, with absolutely no recoil, and he kills loads of guys who have been missing with two hands, but he's the hero's best friend. Apparently none of the men on the helipad realize that most helicopters have their gas tanks on the outside of the fuselage and one shot there kills everything inside the helicopter, and they miss every shot.
The helicopter takes off and the hero stands by the gun door, holding onto nothing even though he's in flight and one sneeze by the pilot sends him plummeting to the ground crying for his mommy, but he's the hero and hero's don't plummet, anywhere.
The audience cringes because they know a bad one liner is on the way and is going to be delivered so poorly most movie critics would vomit when it happens. He puts on a smirk and apparently has it timed perfectly because everything on screen blows the fuck up when he utters his bad one liner.
"Silly rabbit, tricks are for kids."
Eight hundred different camera angles capture the monumental explosion that would probably knock the helicopter right out of the sky, but since he's the hero, it has some sort of force field around it, and the audiences eyes are starting to bleed from the orange and yellow colors on the screen.
Fifteen minutes later the explosion ends and the title appears on the screen and the audience already wants to leave, except for the few tools that think this movie is "Hella awesome bro. Bro, bro, it's great bro. I'm so going to join the army bro so I can do crazy shit like this…bro."
Gibby wants to stand up and scream "Done!" ala Peter Griffin style, but he stays quiet and watches the orgy of pure bad that the movie is for the sake of Freddie.
But finally the movie seems to be at a close, because the hero, still shirtless, is holding the hot girl in his arms as she took one bullet in the arm and is on the verge of dying because apparently all of her vital organs and arteries intersect at the exact spot where she was grazed by a .22 caliber round.
"Oh Blaze Danger McHotguyington, I'm sorry I'm such a weak woman and I can't survive a wound most infants can survive. I love you." She says and he grimaces, fighting his non-existent feelings for her. She dies unceremoniously and he screams her name into sky as rain starts to magically pour down, an obvious sign that heaven is crying.
He doesn't cry or say he loves her back because tough guys aren't allowed to form lasting relationships with a woman past sex and dry-humping in the back of a helicopter, even though to truly be a healthy individual you have to form bonds with people to be mentally stable. But not the hero. He's a lone wolf, and he's going to show them.
On comes a twenty minute block of him killing everyone he sees all alone, never reloading, and blowing shit up along the way. He's going to show evil bad guy number two that he's eight different types of badass and he kills him with a broken knife, a metaphor for his broken heart.
Finally the movie ends with him receiving four hundred Metals of Honor and becoming the President of the United States. Who is handsome. The End.
"Oh thank God!" Gibby yelled, pulling Carly as fast as he can out of the theatre, and he wasn't surprised to see her running ahead of him, trying to get away faster.
They stopped at the front of the theatre, trying to catch their breaths from sprint away from the horrifying movie. Finally Gibby stood up straight "That was the worst piece of garbage I've ever seen in my life!" he proclaimed and Carly nodded in agreement.
"That was the best piece of awesomeness I've ever seen in my life!" Sam exclaimed, coming out of the theatre with Freddie, who didn't look much better than Carly and Gibby.
"You can't have liked that movie Sam." Carly said.
"Why not? It had explosions, more explosions, bullets, explosions, and did you see Blaze Danger McHotguyington? He was so McHotguyington!" she exclaimed and Freddie rolled his eyes next to her. "I want to see it again sometime, and guess who is going to take me?" she said, glancing at Freddie and his eyes widened.
"Oh please no! That would be the cruelest thing you could ever do to me!" he yelled.
"Then it's settled." She smirked and Freddie sighed, resigning himself.
"I'm so done with tonight, let's just go home." Freddie said and the foursome started to walk away from the theatre. Gibby and Carly were following behind Sam and Freddie and Gibby noticed that Freddie was limping, and he wasn't before the movie.
"Hey Freddie, why are you limping?" Gibby asked and Freddie turned around.
"Remember when I said anything that Sam could do to me is preferable than staying in that conversation with you and Carly when I didn't get her popcorn?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"It wasn't."
…
Alright, tell me how you feel about it.
Personally I'm not sure about it. I wasn't planning on a Gibby/Carly slant at the start of the story, I still don't for now, but who knows what will happen during the course of this adventure.
I sure as hell don't