If anyone asked, Sam would say she was meditating.
Or, rather, she would say something like "I dunno, what's your face doing?" but she was telling herself that she'd say she was meditating.
This was what happened when one ate two delivery turkeys by onesself in one afternoon.
[ooc: expecting one, but the post is open for anyone else wanting
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"Come on, Sam, open up," he said.
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The door was unlocked.
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"We really, really need to work on the ideas for that curmudgeony carrot skit," Freddie said, stepping in. "I don't think we're getting it right."
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He was playing this smart.
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"You'd think they'd be better stocked this time of year," she noted. "Alright, fine. What if I chase the Curmudgeonly Carrot with a giant vegetable peeler?"
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Yeah, Freddie's outrage had just been cut short by frogification.
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She looked around as though someone was about to jump out and yell "SURPRISE!", then back at the frog. She pursed her lips, looking thoughtful, then tilted her head. She frowned, and titled her head the other way, leaning a little closer.
". . . This isn't a fairy tale," she decided. "I'm totally not going to kiss you to see if you turn back into Freddie."
And she was totally going to deny to anyone that she ever even thought that maybe she should try it for even a moment.
". . . Nope. Not gonna do it."
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