Carly elbows Sam, and Riley stops nervously watching his reflection in the camera lens long enough to look offended.
"--A guest!" Sam self-corrects. "A guest. Jeez. This," both girls gesture at Riley at once, "is Riley. He's a treasure hunter."
"You remember when those guys found all that cr-aaazy stuff under New York City a couple years ago?" asks Carly. The helpful animation that pops up, when Freddie hits a button, is an old-school drawing of a bunch of pirates standing over a huge mound of gold coins and treasure chests. Riley's face has been superimposed over a pirate with a pick-axe. He has been given an eyepatch and missing teeth and a mustache, all clearly Photodocked in with the black paintbrush tool. "Riley was one of Those Guys!" Sometimes, Carly seriously does sound like she belongs on the Game Show Network. This is one of those times. "He wrote a book about it."
"And I couldn't get on the Today Show, 60 Minutes, Oprah, the View, or even Tyra Banks," Riley says through gritted teeth with a fixed smile at the camera.
"...So here he is!" Carly exclaims, eyeing him.
Sam holds up a copy of The Templar Treasure and Other Myths That Are True. "God, you were such a dork when you were a kid," she tells Riley. "I can smell it."
("Sam," Carly tries.)
"Mostly 'cause you're still a dork now."
("Sam!")
"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Riley drawls. "One, dorks rule the world when they grow up, and two, I so was and am not a nerd!"
"Who you callin' Fuzzball?" Sam demands, and Carly swiftly steps between them, making HELP ME eyes at Freddie, who is manning the camera.
"And now," Carly says, the unmistakable signs of polite strain on her face, "we'll act out a scene!"
"My agent is sooo fired," Riley sing-songs under his breath.
no subject
"Me llamo Sammo," says the other.
They both look at their guest.
"...Heey," Riley says weakly to the camera.
"...This is iCarly!" Carly says.
"We have with us today a dweeb--"
Carly elbows Sam, and Riley stops nervously watching his reflection in the camera lens long enough to look offended.
"--A guest!" Sam self-corrects. "A guest. Jeez. This," both girls gesture at Riley at once, "is Riley. He's a treasure hunter."
"You remember when those guys found all that cr-aaazy stuff under New York City a couple years ago?" asks Carly. The helpful animation that pops up, when Freddie hits a button, is an old-school drawing of a bunch of pirates standing over a huge mound of gold coins and treasure chests. Riley's face has been superimposed over a pirate with a pick-axe. He has been given an eyepatch and missing teeth and a mustache, all clearly Photodocked in with the black paintbrush tool. "Riley was one of Those Guys!" Sometimes, Carly seriously does sound like she belongs on the Game Show Network. This is one of those times. "He wrote a book about it."
"And I couldn't get on the Today Show, 60 Minutes, Oprah, the View, or even Tyra Banks," Riley says through gritted teeth with a fixed smile at the camera.
"...So here he is!" Carly exclaims, eyeing him.
Sam holds up a copy of The Templar Treasure and Other Myths That Are True. "God, you were such a dork when you were a kid," she tells Riley. "I can smell it."
("Sam," Carly tries.)
"Mostly 'cause you're still a dork now."
("Sam!")
"Laugh it up, fuzzball," Riley drawls. "One, dorks rule the world when they grow up, and two, I so was and am not a nerd!"
"Who you callin' Fuzzball?" Sam demands, and Carly swiftly steps between them, making HELP ME eyes at Freddie, who is manning the camera.
"And now," Carly says, the unmistakable signs of polite strain on her face, "we'll act out a scene!"
"My agent is sooo fired," Riley sing-songs under his breath.