Disclaimer: I do NOT own South Park and/or anything else that could impose some sort of copyright infringements in this fanfic.

Author's Note: Alright, my best friend and I LOVE South Park. We're, like, super hardcore Matt and Trey fans. You know...like aspiring DVDA groupies? LULZ Anyway, we've roleplayed it in the past and decided that it would be fun to collaborate on a fanfic. We kind of did the rough draft in roleplay format, but then I edit the fanfic to make it flow better. Personally, I think the sequencing seems nice. If you must know, I write mainly for Kyle and Stan, while she does Wendy and Cartman's parts. Umm, we're both kind of the Broflovskis. XD I'll mention more characters that we write for to give the pair of us proper credit if we decide to put up future chapters.

For your information, there are some stereotypes in this fanfic, but they are meant to be humorous. Of course there is off color humor, since this is BASED off of the one and only South Park! Any critique is welcome, but please attempt to refrain from n00b flaming. Also, there is GAY in this because WE LOVE THE GAY, OMIGOD! There is going to be a lot of pairings in this fanfic. The main ones so far are Cartman/Kyle, Stan/Wendy, Stan/Kyle, and Cartman/Wendy. More will most likely come as the story progresses. If you're still interested after all that, then I encourage you to read on, reader!

What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do?! I cannot believe this! How can I be going back there? It's not fair...why am I such a failure? How can this be happening to me?! a boy in his late teens with red wavy hair prated inwardly. His usual fair skin was a lot lighter than usual. In fact, his complexion was rather lurid looking, for he felt sick to his stomach. He was naturally thin, but had grown a tad thinner over the months from all the stress, pressure, and anxiety. His dark green eyes had never looked so weary before. They felt as heavy as led. There were dark circles under them from pulling too many all nighters with the aide of frappucino drinks from Starbucks.

His orbs did not glow as bright as they did the day he left South Park. His spirit was completely drained. There was no more ambition...no more reason to try. He failed and now his only option was to bail.

The idea of sleep enticed him greatly. His small dorm space was filled with packed boxes, which were to be moved by the movers in the morning. He had done all he could. There was no more tests to worry about now, no more scores, and no more competing. His eye lids began to flicker shut, allowing more darkness to take him in the already completely dark room.

"AHHH!" he suddenly screamed, his body bolting upright from the bed. The annoying, shrill siren ringtone from his cellphone warned him. He already knew that it was his mother, since he had set it especially for her. It was a lot like a warning. Grudgingly, his hand fished around in his pocket. He grabbed a hold of his phone in the next instant, flipped it open, and pressed the green 'talk' button. "M-Mom?" he greeted uneasily, feeling rather squeamish. His tone was somewhat hoarse from being silent for such a length of time. He was fully prepared for his ears to bleed.

"Listen to me Kyle, have you even thought about what you're doing?" Sheila screeched. Her voice was distinct, and her New York accent was in check. There was no question that she was livid, her oldest son was talking about throwing his life away as far as she was concerned. She tapped her nails impatiently against the kitchen table, not waiting for an answer.

"Your father and I paid good money for your education at Harvard. I can't believe you're doing so poorly, woobie. Don't you want to be a lawyer like your father? Look at what a success he is. We always had food on the table and a roof over your head. You're not going to get a Harvard education here in Colorado, I can tell you that right now."

Sheila Broflovski had been planning this phone call all day, she had it planned to a t. The rest of the family was sleeping, but that didn't restrain her voice's volume. When she was angry, she became overly irrational.

Silence was all that could be heard on the other end of the line. He still could not work up the nerve to speak, for he knew his mother had more to say. It was almost that he was afraid of speaking out of turn...that it would cause more screaming.

"I know winter break starts tomorrow, so your father and I will be there at the airport to pick you up. We are by no means happy about your decision, young man. All I can say is that you better get your act together when you get back here, do I make myself clear?"

"Mom..." Kyle finally gasped, feeling struck by the large woman's words. Her infuriated tone managed to strike terror into his heart still, for she was one to be feared when she was upset. He had grown even more pale in the past few seconds. "I know...I know. I just...couldn't keep up here. Mom, you don't have to remind me of how much of a failure I am." It was difficult for him to say if he actually wanted to be a lawyer like his father. Really, it was the ideal profession for him and it made sense. It was logical and his father wanted him to be involved in the family's law firm.

"Al...Alright. My flight's still scheduled to get in at 10:30 AM. I'll see you, Dad, and Ike then." There were no more words to be exchanged, and he hung up the phone. He could not take any more of his mother's incessant castigating. It only rubbed more salt into the wounds. His eyes burned slightly, though no tears were shed.

Kyle placed his cellphone on the nightstand and turned on his side, facing the blank wall. His eyes were completely wide now, although still very tired. He wasn't sure exactly HOW he was going to get to sleep now.

"Eeehhhhuuh," an exasperated groan filled the room. His computer chair was leaning back to a point where it was almost dangerous. He had the feeling he was about to fall, but it didn't phase him in the slightest. Either he was too tired, or just preoccupied with the noise coming from his mouth.

Sitting up, he automatically pushed himself forward. It had been such a long, hard day. Eric Cartman had actually attended all of his classes that morning. Going to community college was tougher than he thought. He had somehow managed to fail every class his first semester, but it was basically because he just did not care. It was more interesting to scam, and make money. After all, he needed money to live. He didn't need college, but it was something his mom insisted on.

He lazily turned on his computer, which took some time to load. His eyes scrutinized the room. The place really wasn't bad. Of course it was of small size, but he had only begun to live on his own. Eric didn't believe in jobs. At least not for himself. That sort of thing was better left for people that liked making little money. He was all about big amounts of money, but earning it with not much work involved. His profession was to scam, and scam well. Recently he had tricked some old people into believing a gambling scam on the internet. Old people were completely incompetent when it came to anything online. It was completely genius.

"Uh, finally," he mumbled as his aim popped up. Cartman logged on to his screen name, ClyF541. It was late, and winter break started tomorrow. It was doubtful that anyone would be online. Most college kids would be asleep, since they'd have to travel home tomorrow. Cartman planned on going home for Christmas of course, he wouldn't miss his mom's pie for the world. However, he was not too far from home. To his surprise, someone actually was on. It was his long time, sort of friend, Stan Marsh. He decided to greet him with: ClyF541: Hey, what's going on fag?

He was answered with the retort of: WdyLvr: A LOT, fatass! Haven't you heard the news? Kyle's coming back to South Park tomorrow morning! I mean...it sucks ass that the pressure caught up with him and he flunked out, but he's going to be living here again. Wendy and I are going to the airport too. His parents don't know about it since Kyle was the one who told me, but I doubt they would mind.

"Stan, are you going to help me pack or not?" Wendy called. There was no answer. It had become typical for her boyfriend to ignore her. Lately he had been very preoccupied with Kyle's return. Although him and Stan were best friends, she sometimes got the feeling that he cared more for his friend than he did for her. She often disregarded that thought. It wasn't even as if Stan hadn't spoken to Kyle in months. They constantly texted each other, and talked on aim, there was even the occasional phone call.

"Stan, are you going to help me pack?" she reiterated, raising her voice as one often does when they're not heard the first time. He had been staring at that computer screen for hours. Maybe if she turned off the monitor he'd get the hint.

Stanley Marsh fidgeted slightly on the full sized bed. The laptop was beginning to become hot and burn his lap. He had been online and being lazy for quite a few hours, completely exhausted after walking around all day at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art and spending the evening shopping at the mall. His arms still ached from carrying all the various bags from different stores. His high school sweetheart, Wendy Testaburger, was frantically packing for their trip back to the peculiar, little, mountain town and calling for his aid. She claimed that they did so much shopping so she would have a new dress to wear on Christmas Eve, though she bought much more than just that.

In spite of the fact that they were poor college kids, they STILL had credit cards. A little splurging for females was a natural occurrence. It was best not to fight it, but simply go along with it. It was something that the everyday man in a relationship had to live with.

As Eric Cartman took a hit off his soda, he shifted his eyes towards his computer screen. Could it be true? This was the best news he'd ever heard! Kyle Broflovski was moving back to South Park. He could barely contain his contentment. He was almost delirious. That good for nothing Jew had cracked under the pressure. Kyle wasn't just a Jew, he was a failure Jew. He was a Jew that would make no money! His chances of becoming a lawyer were diminishing.

He replied: ClyF541: Are you fucking serious? I can't believe that Jew cracked under all the pressure. What time does his flight come in tomorrow?

Cartman could only hope that Stan would give him the information. Even if he didn't, he'd camp out all night at the airport. He'd do anything to humiliate Kyle, no matter how much effort it took. This was all too perfect. He could even rip of his Jew, bitch mom. Tomorrow was going to be a day to remember. A day for ripping to the extreme.

"We need to get rest for tomorrow, you're going to be driving anyway." The calling was to remain incessant until she got a response. Wendy Testaburger, nor any woman in her right mind, was not one to be ignored by her man.

"Oof..." was the exasperated sigh that escaped from Stan's mouth. His eyes darted away from the screen and to the source of the noise, finally deciding to address it. "Yeah, I know, baaaby. I'll go to bed in a little while!" He intentionally chose to ignore the bit about helping her pack. Really, it was no skin off his nose what clothes she would pack for him. He was actually deeply pining that the girl would take the liberty to do this. He was still feeling completely wiped out from their full day's outing.

It was completely hopeless. He wasn't listening at all. In a fuss, Wendy continued to pack for the both of them.

The IM noise directed Stan's frigid blue orbs to find their way back to the screen. "Christ..." he murmured under his breath. His fingers began to move fast and he typed out the response of: WdyLvr: Yes, dude! Why would I lie about something like that? I can't believe nobody's told you sooner. I've known for two whole weeks. I think Kenny knew for that long too. You're really out of the loop. God damn, you're lame, Cartman.

He tapped the enter button, snarking at his own response. The habit of ripping on one another was one that carried on throughout all their middle and high school years. There was no reason to stop now. He went on to say: WdyLvr: Why should I tell you? All you're going to do is rip on him as soon as he gets off the plane. That wouldn't be cool at all, dude. I mean...not at first. Kyle doesn't need to hear that kind of shit. He's really not taking it well and feels bad enough. He sounded really down on the phone today.

Cartman's upper lip drooped reading the response that flashed across the screen. What an asshole. Naturally he was use to the constant ripping, it was how they communicated. It still didn't make it pleasant by any means though. He didn't have much time to stew over Stan, for he was too excited about the great news. Kyle felt like shit over what was going on! He probably cried about it late at night. Call it Cartman's intuition, but he had the feeling Stan wouldn't release Kyle's information, but that was no matter.

He replied: ClyF541: Ha ha ha, Stan. I'm sorry, but nobody keeps me posted on that fucking Jew's life story! I had a feeling you wouldn't tell me his whereabouts. Of course I'd rip on him! It's the perfect opportunity. I'd be stupid not to do it. Anyway, it's getting late gay wad, so I'm going to have to go.

With that, he signed off his screen name. Cartman quickly pulled open his desk drawer, scrambling for a piece of paper. He appeared almost deluded as he searched for a black sharpie. It was so perfect, nothing could top it. He'd make sure he got his chance to rip on Kyle, and he'd be at that God damn airport before anyone else.

"Aww...AWW!" Stan groaned as Cartman signed off without another word. He shut his eyes tightly and put his hand to the bridge of his nose. This was typical body language from him whenever he was upset. It was possible that he completely fucked over his super best friend. "This can't be happening...what am I saying? It's utterly hopeless. Fatass is going to be there for sure and it's all my fault. There's a reason why we don't tell him these things," he thought out loud. He signed off of his AIM and closed the laptop. He set it aside on the night stand.

Wendy crawled into bed, feeling rather disconected fron Stan. The covers were pulled up directly to her chin, and she had a tight grip on them. Her body was tense, and she was tired from the long day at school. Normally, Stan would talk to her at least a little bit before they drifted off to sleep, or pressure her for a sexual favor. Usually she wouldn't object, for she really wanted it anyway. But she liked to play the game of 'I'm too tired tonight, what about tomorrow?' just to get the both of them a little more worked up. She had a feeling this wasn't going to be one of those enjoyable nights.

The older teen removed his poofball hat and set it on top of the laptop. His arms crossed as his hands gripped at the hem of his The Cure band T-shirt. He pulled it up over his head and tossed it aside. Stan had already changed into sweatpants upon arriving home, so there was no need to change those. He scooted to the edge of the bed for a moment, pulling the comforter free from the mattress. "God damn, you tuck it in tight, dude," Stan commented to Wendy. He crawled back over to the space and pulled the covers over his body. After adjusting his pillows slightly, he turned out the bedside lamp and rested his head.

Wendy immediately turned around, her long hair getting a bit tangled. He was really pushing it. "I'm sorry the way I tuck the covers displeases you, Stan. Let me fix it for you, I do everything around here anyway," she grumbled with a slight glare. Propping herself up on her elbows, she held his gaze, waiting for whatever he decided to throw back at her.

"W-Wendy," Stan began, his eyes snapping open. The girl was so close that the tips of their noses were touching. The animosity in her tone cut through him. "Whooa, dude. I...don't take it personally. I really meant nothing by it. Don't you think that's a little harsh? I do my fair share around here. I'm just really beat from being out all day. I...I just meant that I would much rather be snug with you, not the covers. Honest!" He prayed to Jesus that his sweet talking would get him out of this. He wasn't feeling up to starting a war before bedtime.

The tone in his voice screamed panic. He honestly didn't know he did something wrong, which made her heart sink. Guilt was already washing over her entire being. She knew it would of been better to not lash out at him, but she had been so angry. Whenever Stan sweet talked her, he managed to get out of a lot. His kind words could erase her memory completely. Her amythest orbs softed, and she slowly lowered herself back down. "I'm sorry, Stan," she said with a sigh "I suppose I'm just a little irritated...and tired. Lets just try and get some sleep?" she asked with a weary smile. With that, she kissed him lightly and shut her eyes.

He shifted in the bed in order to be directly behind her. His toned arms wrapped around her midsection and pulled her close. "I love you, Wendy," whispered Stan sleepily and directly in her ear. She was right...he could worry about his Cartman troubles in the morning. They were sure to beat him to the airport, right? Boulder was a lot closer to Denver International than South Park.

Of course things weren't truly "resolved," but for now they both needed to sleep.

In all the years he'd known Kyle, he'd always flown Delta. Such as when he went on family trips. There was no doubt in his mind he'd be flying with that particular airline, all he'd have to do is wait in the terminal. Which was by no means an easy task with the heightened security these days. Knowing that Kyle was coming home from Boston, Massachusetts, he wasted no time. That stuck up, Harvard Jew was going to crumble in front of his very eyes. Like a bat out of hell, he instinctively wrote "WELCUM BK JOO!!" in big, bold, capital letters. Cartman wasn't the best speller, but he knew what he wrote was incorrect. Kyle couldn't stand horrible spelling and grammar. It was a win win. There wasn't a moment to lose.

Eric made his way to his closet, quickly throwing a robe over his pajamas before putting on his coat. He needed as many layers as he could get, it was beyond freezing outside. Hastily, he grabbed a pillow and a blanket, and then he was out the door.

The inclement weather was unbearable. Icy winds whipped around him, stinging the exposed flesh on his face. It wasn't snowing, but there was still plenty on the ground.

"God, I hate the fucking cold," he stammered getting into his car. He had a long drive ahead of him, but it would all be worth it. The three closest airports were Denver International, Colorado Springs, and Aspen/Pitkin County. Kyle would be arriving at Denver International, he always did whenever he went anywhere. An imperishable smirk appeared on his face.

The drive was going to take about two hours. Nothing was close by when you lived in a hick, mountain town. Cartman let out a heavy sigh. Thankfully for him, he was full of energy and ready for the time consuming journey.

When he arrived in Denver he was relieved to say the least. The drive had been much more arduous than he expected. Roads were still icy, and at some points during the drive, there was still snow on the ground. That was mostly still in South Park, since the roads weren't consistently plowed. Being in Denver reminded him of Stan and Wendy, who attended the University of Colorado at Boulder. It pissed him off how they were in closer distance of being able to pick up the Jew. All of his anger subsided as he finally was able to find a parking space in the airport's parking garage.

"I can almost taste my victory," he prated to himself, clutching his belongings and running into the nearest elevator. This was going to be one of the best days of his life, in his mind. As soon as he was actually in Denver International, he began running in search of the check in section for Delta. Aaaw, aaw, son of a bitch! Cartman glanced at his watch, how the hell were there so many people waiting in line to be checked in? It was 1:30 am. I don't have fucking time for this. Pillow and blanket in check, he made his way towards the line.

"Oh, excuse me coming through! Emergency, emergency situation," Cartman called out shoving his way through the line, receiving nothing but death glares.

"Hey kid, what's the emergency? We've been waiting in line here for a long time, you can't just cut people," an elderly woman informed him.

Christ, old bitch hag. "I'm sorry mamn," Eric replied with a sickening sweet tone. "You don't understand, my little sister who has full blown AIDS is flying in by herself. She could be getting off the plane any minute, and if I'm not there for her who knows what could happen."

The old woman did not reply, she seemed at a loss for words. She looked as if she didn't know whether to respond negatively, or positively. Regardless, Cartman continued to make his way through the line, now getting sympathetic stares. The people didn't seem to mind as much, knowing that he wasn't actually trying to get on a flight himself. The people were gullible, and Eric Cartman was manipulative.

"Excuse me sir, you have to wait in line," a man behind the front desk replied, who looked very busy. Cartman screwed his face up, and made his voice sound as pathetic as possible.

"Oh God, mister, you don't understand. I need to wait in the terminal for my little sister. She's flying here all alone, her flight could arrive any minute. She's only seven years old, and has AIDS. No, not HIV, AIDS. I've always been the one that she trusts. I've always looked out for her. You don't know how hard it is, to grow up in a world being different. Never experiencing the joys of your childhood because you're always thinking of death. You know death is right around the corner, but you can't stop it," tears were forming in his amber colored eyes.

"Sure, there's treatment, but you know how scary it is? She's always sick. She asks "Eric, why did mommy have to get raped by that black man, infected with AIDS, on her trip to Africa?" Christ, she's only a kid! She thinks our family would have been better off if she was never born. We're in a financial hole right now, but we get by, one day at a time."

The man behind the desk had a similar reaction to the old woman, except he looked as if he was on the verge of tears himself. "Come on kid, I'll lead you through security."

"Oh thank you, kind sir! You don't know how much this means to me, my sister will truly appreciate it. If only there were more people like you in the world."

With an evil grin, he followed behind the man, plowing through the security vicinity. He had been wished good luck, and with that he was off to the terminal. Eric had really become a pro at turning on the water works. Ever since he was a kid he had been lying. It had really become second nature.

He scouted out a row of empty chairs. This would be the ideal place to crash for the night. He placed his pillow on one end, and got situated. All things would go according to plan. The welcome sign was tucked away in his overnight bag, and his cell alarm was set to wake up at 5:00 am. He even brought some crackers, with some mustard and ketchup. It was a rather odd thing to eat, but he enjoyed it. Camping out in the terminal would be well worth it. The look on Kyle's face will be priceless. Just wait ti'll he sees me instead of his family and those butt holes. You don't know what you're in for, Jew rat. That was his last thought before drifting off to sleep.

"You undastand dat dis very serious procedure, sir? Peopre's rives are in your hands! It rike as serious as answering ein, one, one carr! You must be prepared for dis! I not give seat to anyone, sir! It put my job on rine!" an uppity Asian woman at the Delta check-in counter castigated. Her slanty eyes were fixated into a glare at the exhausted Jewish boy.

"Yes, I AM SURE," Kyle stated firmly through gritted teeth. This was the umpteenth time that he and the woman had been through this. He couldn't help but roll his eyes this time. It was blatantly obvious that he was becoming agitated by all of this. "I will help out in any way that I can, but really, what are the odds?! We're flying across middle America! If anything's going to happen it's that we're going to crash into a mountain! I won't be able to assist anybody then because we'll all be obliterated! But, I swear to God that if it's possible that I'll help if I can!" he amazingly ranted in one breath.

He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, in an attempt to calm himself. His exasperated eyes met hers. "Now, will you PLEASE give me my ticket? I'm going to be late and wind up missing my flight all together!"

The woman seemed at a loss for words. For a while, it seemed if she was contemplating the silly American's sanity. "Werr...I guess I can do for you, if you put it rike dat, young man," she finally said. She punched some information into her computer and retrieved the ticket. "Here you are. Carry on! You hord up rine rong enough!"

Kyle twitched slightly as his hand shakily accepted the ticket. Every urge in his body was telling him to scream, but he knew it would not help. He bit his tongue as he began trekking to the security vicinity at Logan Airport.

"Kid, you betta read safety instructions! No forget!" the Asian woman lectured after.

He chose to ignore the remark entirely. Instead, he responded in a way that Craig Nommel would have surely been proud of. He was at the end of his rope. The morning was unfortunately getting progressively bleaker. Kyle could hear a "How rude!" uttered not so faintly in the distance. Frankly, he could not give a damn anymore. He knew if his mother had been there that she would have surely given him a lecture on manner and make him return to the counter to apologize to the ticket agent.

Security was no walk in the park either. Aside from the standard procedures that everybody else went through, he always had to inform the screener that he had diabetes and was carrying his supplies with him. This tended to hold up the line just a little more than it would for most. Nobody seemed to ever be too sympathetic about a teenage kid with Diabetes mellitus Type 1. Although the screener was understanding, some people looked at him (who hadn't paid attention), and scrutinized him as if he were some kind of heroin addict. Fortunately, Kyle was very organized. All his medications and insulin were clearly labeled with their prescriptions, along with his doctor's notes.

His mother had gotten him a traveling case for his medication that was very well organized. It made it easy when he took it out of his carry-on backpack and placed it in the plastic bin. Aside from that, he also had to take his laptop out of its case and remove his shoes. Once he finally got through, he was randomly selected for an additional screening. It was very unpleasant to be prodded, padded, and waved down with the wand. Kyle had a propensity to get called for these about every other time he went to the airport. He wasn't sure why, but it happened. It added to his annoyance.

Twenty-five agonizing minutes later, he was finally on his way to the terminal. Kyle arrived just as a voice over the PA system called "Last boarding call for flight 1089, Boston to Cincinnati." He hastily rushed over to the ticket agent with his ticket clenched tightly in hand. He was going to make it.

"Yaahhh...I know. I can't wait until we get that hooker over at our pad this Friday, man. It's going to be fucking iiiiit!" a ticket taker chatted with another co-worker. He had the appearance of a college drop out, which was a chilling look into a possible future, and somehow a California accent.

Kyle cleared his throat loudly, presenting his ticket.

The ticket taker stopped abruptly with his conversation. "Geez, man. No need to be so uptight," he scolded, taking Kyle's ticket, scanning it, and returning it. "We were, like, having a conversation. You need to be chill, ya know bro?"

"No, I almost missed my flight! You haven't been having my morning, so I'd appreciate it if you kept your comments to yourself, 'broooo'. You haven't been living my life. so don't expect be to be 'chill'!" Kyle viciously replied, taking big strides into the hangar. He practically sprinted onto the plane along with a few other stragglers. Kyle glanced at his ticket's information, although he knew where he was to be all too well. He took the window seat on the right side of the plane, right by the emergency exit. A rather large, old woman was seated next to him.

"Hey whippersnapper, help an old lady out with her seat belt!" she demanded in a not-so-sweet old lady voice as Kyle placed his carry-on bag and laptop underneath his seat. In fact, she spoke with a thick southern drawl.

A crestfallen sigh escaped from his mouth. His burnt out orbs glanced down briefly at her midsection. Grudgingly, he leaned over and adjusted the strap as far as it would go to accommodate her rather corpulent waist. It barely clicked into place after all that, but just fit. He then settled back into his own seat uncomfortably and buckled himself in.

"I guess young people still give us old folks a hand! And here I thought ya was a little shit! Guess ya ain't that bad! I made you out as a yuppie, city slicker!" she proclaimed, resting her arm on the arm rest in-between them. The excess flab rolled over into Kyle's seat. Really, the woman should have reserved two seats.

"Yeah..." retorted Kyle, no enthusiasm whatsoever. He hadn't managed to get any sleep all night after the phone call. He still did not feel well.

"Buck up, sonny! I hate flyin' too, but I'll get by. I might start hollarin' and squeeze onteh yer hand, but we'll get by, consarnit!" the large woman reassured him. After a few moments, she opened her mouth again. "Say, are ya goin' home fer the holidays? I'm goin' ta visit my son in Ada!"

Something in-between a yawn and a sigh left his mouth. Great, a chatty elderly woman. I'm not in the mood for this at all, he thought bitterly. Kyle nodded to the overweight woman. "Yes, to South Park, Colorado."

"WHA?! WHERE?!"

"SOUTH PARK, COLORADO!"

"Ohhh my! Well why done ya say so before, huh? You have a long travelin' day, sonny! You have to stop ovah in Ohio!"

The old woman stating the obvious was becoming more annoying by the seconds. Everything was just getting to him because of how rough his last few months had been. His body visibly tensed up. He felt peevish and longed for nothing more than this flight to end. Sleep was definitely out of the question now. Perhaps on the next flight...

Author's Note: Well, wasn't that just a hoot and a holler? I would appreciate at least five reviews before I upload the next chapter. I DO need some incentive to know if I should continue posting chapters here. : D