Stan wasn't expecting what he saw when he opened the oven door. His navy eyes widened in shock, and his mouth dropped open.

"Christ," he managed to utter feebly, staring at what was supposed to be the thing to help him pass his Gourmet 12 class: a birthday cake. An utterly fucked up cake that didn't exactly look edible was what faced him instead.

Stan sighed heavily and yanked the cake out of the oven, loudly plunking it down onto the granite counter top in the kitchen.

The top layer slid off, revealing an unbaked center.

Stan stared at his supposed masterpiece in dismay, and had no idea what he was going to do next, when the doorbell rang. He observed the monstrosity for a moment longer, before forcing himself to answer the door.

"Hey dude," Kyle greeted him cheerily when he opened the door, "I'm here to do our science pro—" Kyle's emerald eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled as soon as he stepped inside. "What the hell is that smell? Is something burning?"

Stan exhaled slowly as he led Kyle to the living room, where he had earlier set up posters and supplies for them to make their project about the solar system. Kyle would have to work alone now, as Stan had thought the cake would have been done before he had gotten there.

"It's the cake I made for my final project in my cooking class," Stan explained as Kyle settled down on the couch.

Kyle raised an eyebrow at this. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you failing that course?"

"Yeah. And that's why the cake was supposed to turn out all pretty and shit. So I could pass. But now…" Stan's voice trailed off and he inwardly cursed himself for taking the cooking course. He knew he sucked at anything to do with preparing food, but Wendy had suckered him into it, insisting it would look good on his resume and show he was a man who wasn't afraid of the culinary arts. But Stan was afraid, very much so. And now he knew why.

Kyle shook his head and smiled. "Dude, how could you screw up? All you had to do was follow the recipe."

"I did!" Stan declared indignantly. What did Kyle take him for, a complete moron?

"Whatever. Let me see the recipe," Kyle instructed, and Stan huffily went off and brought it to him. Kyle read it over carefully before looking up at Stan.

"Like I said, it's really easy."

"I'd like to see you try, wise ass!"

"No, I'm not baking your stupid cake for you!"

"Are you afraid that you can't?" Stan challenged, knowing how much Kyle prided himself on being able to do anything his friends could do.

Kyle jumped to his feet and stormed off into the kitchen without responding. Stan watched him go, feeling relieved. He was as good as gold now; Kyle had once created a whole dinner for his (now ex) girlfriend Bebe and she had told everyone that the food was amazing.

"Thanks, Kyle Wyle!" Stan called sweetly as he settled down to begin working on their project.

Kyle reappeared in the entrance to the kitchen, looking uncomfortable in Stan's mom's mauve apron.

"Fuck off!" He growled, trying to sound threatening, but Stan knew that his best friend was about as deadly as a balled up sock.

"Love you!" Stan winked, while Kyle rolled his eyes and headed into the kitchen to repair the damage Stan had done. Just as Stan was about to start cutting out some pictures of the planets, there came a knock on the door.

Stan's brow furrowed as he got up to answer it. Who would that be, especially on a Sunday night?

When Stan opened the door, he was pissed off when he saw no one there. It had probably been some stupid kids playing Nikki Nikki Nine Doors or something—

Wait; there was a white envelope lying on the doorstep with his name on it. Stan bent down and picked it up, before shutting the door and walking back to the sofa.

"Who was that, Wendy?" Kyle asked from the depths of the kitchen, the sounds of pans clattering morphing with his voice.

Stan shook his head, when he realized Kyle couldn't see him.

"No, it was nobody."

"Nobodyknocked on the door? That's interesting; I wonder how the sound of knocking was created."

"Shut up, Kyle!" Stan laughed as he tore open the envelope. A piece of cream colored paper that was heavily perfumed slipped out, and Stan's eyes watered at the strong aroma. He blinked his tears away before beginning to read.

Stan Marsh,

You are cordyly invited to a speshial cyrimony tonite at my house. Wear your best kloths, or I'll kick your ass. If you don't show up, I swear to God, your dog will go bye bye.

P.S. I noe The Jew is at yur house rite now, but he can't cum.

-Eric Theodore Cartman

Stan slowly lowered the letter beside him, not sure at what exactly he had just read. Cartman was known for doing totally random and insane things, but he had never written a letter before. Probably because he didn't know how to spell well, but whatever he was planning must be something big if he was sending letters out to people.

Stan jumped when he saw Kyle appear in front of him as if by magic. "Whoa, I didn't see you there!" Stan exclaimed, instinctively covering the letter with his hand.

Kyle's eyes focused on it, and he turned to Stan with a questioning look in his eyes.

"What's that?"

"It's nothing."

"Letter from Wendy?"

"No."

"Person at the door give it to you?"

"There was no one at the door, Kyle."

"Uh huh. Let me see it."

Stan was about to deny his request, not wanting Kyle to feel bad about not being invited to whatever ceremony Cartman was planning, when Kyle moved with sudden agility and managed to snatch the letter away from him. Stan watched helplessly as the red haired boy read it.

"It's cool how you and Cartman are planning some party without me," Kyle said, his voice sounding much colder than it had been earlier.

"We're not," Stan replied quickly, thinking of a way to patch things up with him. "Would I ever want to plan a party with that Fatass Nazi?"

Kyle's expression softened as he handed the letter back to Stan. "I guess not. So you really don't know what he wants?"

"Nope," Stan confirmed, "but I have a feeling it will scare the shit out of me."

"Probably," Kyle agreed. "Anyways, the cake is in the oven and I'm pretty sure that it'll be good enough to pass you."

If Stan was a touchy feely guy, he would have hugged Kyle, but he didn't want him to get the wrong idea. So he gave him a friendly whack on the shoulder instead.

"Thanks, Kyle. You've really saved me this time."

Kyle was about to respond, when the phone rang.

"Is it Wendy?"

It was Stan's turned to be annoyed now. Did Kyle think that Wendy and Stan were super glued together or what?

"I don't know," he replied as he padded across the floor and picked it up.

"Yeah?"

"Stan, you're coming right?"

Stan turned to Kyle and mouthed, "It's Cartman." Kyle looked as confused as Stan felt, and Stan forced himself to pay attention to what Cartman was blabbing about.

"What?"

There was a heavy sigh.

"I said, be there in 15 minutes 'cause it's starting soon, asshole."

"What's starting?"

"Didn't you read my letter?"

"I tried; believe me I did."

"Ay! Don't fucking make fun of my spelling you son of a bi—"

"You just said a ceremony, you didn't mention specifics."

"I'm getting married!"

Stan slowly pulled the receiver away from his ear, the three words ringing in his head. Cartman was…getting married?

"Fuck, Cartman. You have to be kidding me. You're not serious, right?"

"I'm so seriouslah, I'd make out with your lover Moses if I was lying."

Kyle must've noted the expression on Stan's face, or sensed what Cartman had said about him, that he tore the phone out of Stan's hand and began speaking to Cartman.

"Hipposaurus, what do you want?"

"Do I need to explain this again? I thought that your Stanny wanny poo just gave you my message with his tongue down your throat."

"Fuck you, Cartman! What is going on?"

"For the last goddamn time, I'm getting married!"

Kyle was deeply disturbed, and forced himself to take a deep breath to keep from screaming hysterically.

"You're lying, Cartman. Who would marry you? No blind transvestites live in South Park."

Stan snapped out of his daze and laughed. Kyle was hilarious when he was ticked off.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter Kahl. You're not invited."

"So? I don't want to go to your fake wedding!"

"It's not fake, Kahl. It's totally real. I'm seriouslah."

Stan made pleading expressions when he heard Kyle say he wouldn't go. He didn't want to have to be at Cartman's messed up wedding, real or not, all by himself. Kyle grimaced, but knew he couldn't just leave Stan in the lurch.

"Actually, I'll come."

"But you can't!"

"Do you have a best man?"

"Yeah, Stan is!"

"Do you have a ring bearer?"

"Tweek."

Kyle was running out of options when he had a sudden flash of inspiration.

"Do you have a wedding cake?"

"No, but I can use chicken pot pie!"

"Then it's not a real wedding, is it? You have to have the wedding cake."

Silence.

"Fine, you can come. But don't sprinkle your jew dust onto the cake!"

"I wouldn't waste it on you."

Cartman let out a stream of cursing and hung up, and Kyle turned to Stan with a solemn expression on his face.

"So, the apocalypse has begun."

A/N: I really think that sucked balls, but I did write it at one am in the morning, so you can forgive me, right? xD I'll try my darndest to make the next (and final) chapter better! )