Sam had laid down tarps on the rec room floor and hung more from the walls, today, which couldn't possibly bode well. She was currently setting up two tables on either side of the room and laying out an assortment of warm -- not hot, she'd learned that lesson after the last big Puckett family dinner -- dishes. There was fried chicken, grilled
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But, dammit, that would give her less ammo later.
AGONY!
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". . . The chicken fingers are calling my name." She held up two of the strips and moved them as if they were lips. "Listen to them: 'Sam! Sam, eat us, Sam! You know you want to!' Ohhh, I do, little chickeny strips. I do."
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"And I will EAT YOUR SOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUL!" said Sam.
"And she's apparently metal," said Carly. "And together, we're iCarly!"
Sam pushed a button on her remote to play some public domain metal, and they started rocking out.
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