Chapter Five
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, yo!
A/N: This is a little for the people that hated Carly ;)
"Twenty-one auditions?" Freddie gasped. He was talking on the phone with Gibby. "I knew she wanted to get a part in a production or something, but I didn't know she wanted it badly!"
"She's auditioning for yet another part as I speak. You have to be a teacher's pet," Gibby explained. "She said she's giving every judge a glass of her lemonade."
"I won't be surprised if she gets rejected for every one of them," Freddie chuckled. "Did you try to tell her that nobody likes it?"
"Sure did, we don't want any trouble," Gibby said. "We'll be heading back up to Seattle much sooner than we thought, out of her disappointment. She'll get over it."
"FREDSHIT!" Sam Benson yelled as she barged into the house, her face covered in a brown substance that could only be poop.
"What happened, Sam?" Freddie laughed. "I'll talk to you later, Gib. Sam just came in with a face full of number 2. Let me know if she gets any parts."
"Frednub, why didn't you clean up that oil in the driveway?" Sam shouted. "Oh, give me that." She took her husband's shirt and wiped her face with it.
"I fixed the leak, but not the oil slick?" Freddie tried. Sam punched him in the arm. "Ow!"
"Don't ever let that happen again, Freddumb," Sam said. "For your own good, and because I don't want another face full of shit. Now go clean up the oil and that shit."
"But-" Freddie started.
"Clean. It. Up." Sam commanded, glaring at him.
"I'll be outside," Freddie sighed.
"I'm coming to watch. I want to know how Carls did on those auditions," Sam said.
"You know, you could say please," Freddie said.
"You know that won't happen," Sam smiled.
"Anyway," Freddie said in an annoyed tone, but smiled. "Carly had auditioned twenty-one times when I was on the phone with Gibby, so it's probably twenty-two now. Maybe even more."
"She must really want this," Sam said. "Did Gibby sound annoyed that she was auditioning for acting parts while they were supposed to be enjoying themselves?"
"He didn't sound annoyed. They've probably done 'it' already," Freddie said. "He knows Carly likes the night life as well."
"Yeah, that totally isn't disgusting at all. I'll leave you to your cleaning," Sam finished, walking back into the house to see what the triplets were doing. "Don't forget, you need to feed Mama!" She called back.
"I wonder if Carly landed any roles," Sam thought.
*New Text from Carly Gibson*
Carly: Sam...weve got a lil problm. Gib nd i spnt all r cash. We cant get home. Didnt bring our cards to withdraw from the bank. Help? Gibs holding out the desk clerk in the lobby, and I dont think tht will last much longer!
"Carly," Sam loudly moaned, exiting the house.
"Frednerd, Carly messed up again," Sam said.
"What do you mean?" Freddie inquired. He had finished disposing of the poop.
"Somehow they spent it all. They're stuck in LA."
"They what?" Freddie groaned, hoping that his wife was lying.
"They spent every last bit of their money having fun," Sam said. "They don't even have enough money for their hotel room, let alone a plane ticket home."
"Well, there aren't too many ways we can come get them," Freddie began.
"Are you saying-" Sam started.
"Yes, we're gonna have to fly down and get them. Spencer's in Canada at another art convention," Freddie finished. "More for them to pay back, I guess."
"Alright, Fredwuss. Let's get some plane tickets. We'll deal with the money later."
"Think we'll need any luggage?" Freddie questioned.
"Nope. We move in, take, and move out," Sam smiled, locking in their plane seats on her PearPad.
"Don't get yourself thrown in jail, Sam. Where are they exactly?" Freddie asked.
"Last I heard, they were in their hotel lobby and that nub Gibby was stalling for us to get there."
"Let's just get to LA, bring them back, and tell them they owe us more money."
Sam and Freddie drove to the airport and arrived with just enough time to get through customs before their flight took off.
"Flight 44 to Los Angeles is now boarding."
"That's us," Freddie said, getting up from a chair.
"Remember. In, take, out," Sam reminded.
"Yeah, yeah. You want the window seat?" Freddie offered, stopping to let his wife in their row first.
"I'd like that," Sam grinned as she sat down. "Wow, there aren't a lot of people on this flight. Seems weird for one to L.A."
"It's pretty high class. Winning the lottery twice has its perks," Freddie smirked. "Don't forget to put your phone in Airplane Mode."
"Why would I do that?" Sam frowned.
"Never mind," Freddie said.