Room 423, Saturday morning

[hurtingzeebo]

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.

"H'lo?"

"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.]

Comments

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

Meanwhile, Freddie had had somewhat of a freakout waking up thinking he'd been turned into a girl again. And then he realized it was a different girl, and once he realized what girl that was he'd hurried into a pair of pants (while trying not to freak out even more when he'd opened the wrong drawer and was suddenly staring at his girlfriend's underthings) and out of the dorm room.

When he got to his own room, he knocked on the door hurriedly. "Sam? Saam?"

Oh sweet chiz, what was up with his voice?

[hurtingzeebo]

Wonder of wonders, Sam actually got up and went to the door at that. "I'm going to call you back, Mrs. -- Mom," she said into the phone, then hung up while Mrs. Benson was still sputtering. She threw open the door and looked over . . . herself.

"You! Gimme back my body!"

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"You give mine back!" Freddie said.

Then his eyes bugged. "Wait, you talked to my mom?"

He was so dead. So, so dead. On so many levels.

[hurtingzeebo]

"It's not my fault! She called!" Sam shook the PearPhone at Freddie. It was already ringing again. "If you had a hammer in here, this wouldn't be a problem."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"Don't smash my phone!" Freddie said, holding out his hand. "Just tell her that I've got a fever and that I can't talk or something. Make something up!"

He was not good at this at all.

[hurtingzeebo]

"Okay, but if she flies down to coddle you, there's gonna be trouble." Sam sighed, then answered the phone.

"Hi . . . Mom. You were right, I have a fever. So I'm just gonna go be a weenie at the clinic instead of toughing it out like a normal person."

"Fredward! You're not a weenie, you're special, remember?"

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"Weenie?" Freddie also objected, also a bit too loudly. "Come on, you can come up with something better than that."

[hurtingzeebo]

"Is that Sam? Is Sam Puckett giving you advice on lying to me? Fredward!"

"Shut it, nub-wad!" Sam hissed. "It's the fever, Mom! It's making me all . . . Sam-like!"

"I always knew she was a bad influence!"

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

Okay, that got Freddie to snicker a bit, and he covered his mouth.

"Just, just... tell her you'll call her back after the lab results."

That would buy a few hours, at least.

[hurtingzeebo]

Sam wasn't entirely sure what that meant.

"I'll call you back after the lab results, okay?"

"Well, alright. You go to the clinic. And get some rest. And drink plenty of fluids!"

"Alright, alright, geez."

"And you make that Sam girl go somewhere else!"

"Uh huh. Whatever, bye." Sam hung up. "Your mom seriously hates me."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"Well, yeah, my mom is crazy," Freddie said, finally shutting the door to the room and going to sit on his own bed. "And she thinks she knows what's best for me, at that's mainly things like not you. She wants me all... hermetically sealed and protected and you're, like, the total opposite."

[hurtingzeebo]

"Hey," Sam said, tossing Freddie's phone onto the desk and flopping down on the bed next to him. "It's all good. My mom's way worse."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"What?" Freddie scoffed, putting his arm around his... his own body. Weird. "Yeah, no way, my mom is the worst. It's not even a competition."

[hurtingzeebo]

"Uh, no, my mom is definitely the worst. Her version of making dinner involves handing me a handful of ketchup packets and a C battery."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"Your mom didn't install a tracking chip in your head," Freddie said, thinking that was a good trump card. "Not to mention you've never had a tick bath. Ever."

[hurtingzeebo]

"Or a dentist appointment," Sam pointed out. "My mom used to put black coffee in my bottle when I was a baby."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"What? Why?" Freddie said, for a moment distracted from the argument by this weird and new fact.

[hurtingzeebo]

"She said it made me dance funny."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"And did it?" Freddie asked, because this also was an important question to ask before going back into the argument.

[hurtingzeebo]

"Yes," Sam said, as though this were clearly the most obvious thing in the world. "Which is why my mom is totally the freakiest!"

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"Hardly!" Freddie said. "Two words: double poo."

"There is no way you are winning this."

[hurtingzeebo]

"My mother backed her station wagon through the wall of our old school."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"Okay fine," Freddie said. "We're not going to agree on this. So we have to ask someone else, and they'll give us the real answer," Freddie said. "Deal?"

[hurtingzeebo]

"Okay, but it has to be someone who's actually met both our moms. So we can't just ask your roommate or something."

[randomspanish.livejournal.com]

"Carly it is," Freddie said. "We'll just call her up on a video chat and ask her. Deal?"