Ha, I was extremely bored when I wrote this. I'm like Craig...and let me tell you, that position he's in, it' not bad actually. Stretches out your stomach XDDD
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or these songs. But I do own that amazing title.
Half-Blind Lethal Snake
Craig was bored.
He lay around on his bed, staring moodily up toward his ceiling, tugging lightly at the tassels of his blue hat so it slipped to one side and covered his left eye. With half of the world hidden, he picked out strange patterns in the popcorn ceiling and sighed, letting his hand trail away to rest on the rumpled sheets.
I'm bored. He remarked to himself thoughtfully, twisting the notion of his boredom around in his mind. So, what could he do about it?
I could go play some games, he offered to himself absently, turning his right eye to his television. Nah, he'd already played and beaten every game he had. He needed some new ones.
I could go eat something, he suggested. Hmm, no, he wasn't really hungry, and there was nothing good to eat that took five minutes or less to cook in the house. He hated waiting for food.
I could go outside and do something, he proposed carelessly. Eh, no, he didn't feel like walking or even getting up. It'd be too much effort.
I could do...homework, he shuddered. Hell no.
He lay around some more, thinking. What did he want to do? He wasn't looking for adventure, like the douchebags who'd practically kidnapped him to go to Peru. Yes, kidnap. That was definitely against his will. Jerks.
He just wanted something that wouldn't be so...boring. But what? He grumbled unintelligibly, taking his phone from his pocket. Flipping it open, he messaged the first person on his recent calls list, not bothering to find out who it was.
bored as fuck, come over
Shutting it, he sighed. He'd find out later who he texted. If they came over or whatever. If he'd messaged Token, he wouldn't do anything. If it was Clyde, he'd take his sweet time getting his ass over here. If it was anyone else, it depended on their mood, probably. Putting his feet against the far wall, he pushed back on it, sliding his body halfway over the edge of his bed. Back arched, the tip of his head touching the floor, his shirt flopped over his chest, revealing his belly. Looking at his room upside down, he noticed vaguely that everything seemed longer and slightly distorted.
He slid down even further, his pants slipping to reveal Red Racer boxers. He loved these boxers. Lying his head fully on the floor, he shoved his tongue out into the air.
If I was a snake, I'd be lethal. Yeah. The random thought flashed through his mind, and he grinned satisfactorily. Hell yeah. He hissed experimentally, only succeeding in drooling a bit out of the corner of his mouth. Fucking lethal venom, he thought, licking it away.
Bending his knees on the bed, he sprawled his arms out on the floor, he stared out with only one eye. Half-blind snake. Half-blind lethal snake. Yeah. Craig blew out a long breath, staring around idly. He held his breath, then breathed in deep.
"Bartender, I really did it this time, broke my parole to have a good time..." he sang lazily, closing his eyes. Heh, he loved that song. His voice filled his empty room, and he almost laughed at the weirdness of it all. "...she was tripping on the bills, I think she was high on some pills..."
He sang a bit louder, wondering if he could find some half-blind lethal snake videos on Youtube later. Hell, the shit was probably a band in some freaked up death-metal loving city. He should make a band called that. That'd be an awesome band name. Half-Blind Lethal Snake. Fuck yeah.
A few moments later, he was on the second chorus, playing air guitar in front of his chest. "...she stole my heart in the trailer park, so I jacked the keys to her fucking car, and crashed that piece of shit-"
"An' then stepped away..."
The interruption had him opening his eyes, looking up toward his door. It was now open, two blond heads peeking in and watching him. He focused his right eye on them. Oh look, Tweek and Butters. Hmm, he'd gotten two people with one text message. Cool.
It had been Butters who had sang along, and Craig grinned, continuing, "And now I'm going back again, back to the pen to see my friends. When we all pile up the county van, they'll ask me where I've been..."
"I'ah've been at a bar on th' inside, waitin' for my ride on th' outside," Butters went on, "she broke m'heart in th' trailer park, so I'ah jacked the keys to her father's car-"
Craig snorted. "That's the clean version, not the real one."
Butters shrugged, flushing, and Tweek glanced at him worriedly. "Nghh, wh-what're you doing?"
Craig thought a moment. "I'm being a half-blind lethal snake."
There was a pause, then Tweek shrieked. "What?" He looked around, as if there were actually half-blind lethal snakes crawling around in Craig's house. As if. Although that might be cool for a while.
"I'm bored." The raven drawled, explaining. He closed his eyes again, strumming his invisible guitar and humming along to the song. Tweek's voice brought him back again.
"I-Is that...safe?"
"Huh?" Craig looked up at Tweek, who pointed vaguely at his position. "Oh. Yeah, I guess. Doesn't hurt or anything."
Tweek blushed as he pointed to Craig's exposed stomach and boxers. "N-nice underwear."
"I know, right?" The raven grinned, prompting Butters to giggle. Tweek cocked his head curiously, staring at him, then approached the sprawling Craig, lying down on his bed. Sliding off of it, he mimicked Craig's position, ill-buttoned shirt flopping over his front and his pants slipping as well. Butters looked curious and hesitant all at once, tiptoeing a little closer until Craig reached over to tug on his pants leg. "Dude, try it. It's cool. Everything looks weird."
"Okay..." Butters followed Tweek's example, until all three of them were looking up into the room upside down, five eyes gazing around. Craig looked at them, and laughed. "Dude, Tweek, you're so freaking close to showing everything. Where the fuck's your underwear?"
Tweek blushed. "Gah! Th-the gnomes came l-last night..."
"Nice." The raven chuckled.
"Every time y'take a sip, in this smoky atm'sphere..." Butters started.
"I love that fucking song." Craig proclaimed, taking up his air guitar again. "You press that bottle to your lips, and I wish I was your beer..."
"A-and in th-the small there o-of your back, y-your jeans are playing p-p-peek-a-boo..." Tweek continued after him, his voice almost steady. Craig and Butters stared at him, and Tweek turned pink. "I-I like it too..."
Butters giggled, and the three began, "I'd like to see the other half...of your butterfly tattoo..."
Craig, Butters and Tweek were sprawled out in a strange position, singing half off-key and loudly, acting like complete retards. But none of them were bored. And Craig figured that maybe he should invite these two over more often. A band could have three members in it, right?
And he already had the perfect name.
A/N: "Ticks" by Brad Paisley and "Sittin' At A Bar" by Rehab