hurtingzeebo: (I'm proud of myself)
Sam was all dressed up. She had on her rattiest, dirtiest clothes, extra ripped just for the occasion, and drizzled with barbecue sauce. She had a pale green foundation on, with excess, smeared eyeliner creating a very baggy effect around her eyes, and more barbecue sauce around her mouth, over black lipstick. She had her hair fluffed out into oblivion. With just a touch more barbecue sauce.

Look, it hadn't been easy to get all of that on her without eating it all, okay?

Last but not least, she had the soy brain from Diversity class out of its jar and leaking soy brain juice all over her hands. She'd put some more barbecue sauce on it, too, not just for texture. She expected it was going to taste pretty wretched.

Now all she needed was her oh-so-gullible and oh-so-traumatizable boyfriend to arrive, and she'd be all set.

[ooc: for him what's mentioned in the narrative, though it can be open for after that.]
hurtingzeebo: (I'm Freddie says what now?)
Sam woke up to the sound of the world's dorkiest ring tone. She groped around for her hammer to smash it with, but it wasn't in reach, so she finally gave in and answered the damn phone.


"Fredward!" said the voice on the other end. "You're not just waking up, are you?"

Sam blinked. "Mrs. Benson? Freddie's not here right now."

"That is not funny, young man! You should have been up to double-poo hours ago!"

Sam snickered. "Poo." Then gradually realized that her voice sounded weird. And she'd been sleeping in a funny position, all laid out flat with her head on the actual pillow. And she had . . . bits that weren't usually there. "Did I turn into a boy again?"

"Are you ill? Fredward, take your temperature! I think you have a fever!"

Sam turned the laptop on the nearby desk around and switched on the webcam. And then stared. "Oh sweet mother of chiz."

"FREDWARD BENSON! You go wash your mouth out with soap this instant!"

This? Was going to be a loooooooooooong day.

[ooc: specifically for one.]
hurtingzeebo: (I'm asleep)
It was early, and Sam didn't have classes on Mondays, so she was, of course, fast asleep.

"Mmmm . . . you are so hot . . . I think I'm in love . . . you want to . . . okay, just pass the gravy. . . ."

[ooc: for an expected one, up late due to clashing schedules]
hurtingzeebo: (I hang with Carly)
Carly sat on her couch, a pamphlet in her hands, pouting down at it. Sam lay back next to her, her feet over the back edge, examining her toes.

"How much do you wanna bet I can play Violin Hero with my feet?" Sam asked.

cut for dialog and an eensy bit of spontaneous sculpture combustion )

[ooc: NFB what with not in Fandom yet. For the canon-mate.]


hurtingzeebo: (Default)
Sam Puckett

April 2015

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