"Okay, this is a stickup! Put all the money in the bag or I'll fucking kill each and every one of you!"
Two men had barged into a bank in Lakewood Colorado on a mild afternoon in July. Both of slender builds and of average height; outfitted in sneakers, blue and orange tracksuits, rubber rabbit masks, and glock 9s held in gloved hands. The one in blue that was shouting vulgarities had a voice one of the bank tellers would describe as 'very fay with a country twang', while the one in orange thrusting a black duffel bag at the teller had a voice that was 'gravelly, like a smoker' as he rasped out: "You step any closer to the counter or handle anything but the money I'll blow you away."
They brandished their weapons and kept their fingers on the triggers, making the hapless customers and employees duck for cover. The cowardly guard on duty had hidden out of sight, and when the two robbers ran out carrying the bag by one handle each between them, he shot the one in blue in the back; making him slump against his partner who helped him to the sidewalk where a white unmarked van was screeching to a stop. The driver was wearing a red tracksuit and rubber frog mask. He had the window down and aimed his gun out the window which was enough to make the guard duck for cover. The shots he was expecting never came; instead hearing tires peeling out on the road with the van being loaded and closed before making a getaway. The guard awkwardly ran down the stairs and out onto the street, firing at the vehicle but not hitting it once. The vehicle, stolen from a construction yard, was later found on the outskirts of town parked out of sight from the road.
The blonde bunny had his mask, blue track jacket, and now useless bullet-proof vest removed and left on the floor of the green station wagon they had changed over to; sobbing noisily and uncontrollably, laying on his stomach in the backseat, unable to see the massive bruise on his back. The other blonde bunny had removed his mask and was holding an ice pack to the crybaby's back even as he hiccuped and squealed.
The frog was unmasking himself to reveal the slimy brunette underneath, asking, "How much did you get?" The blonde in the orange jumpsuit seethed, "I don't give a fuck how much money we got, you fat asshole. Butters got shot." Cartman scoffed, "Whose fucking fault is that? I told you they had one guard and you didn't put him in his place...Is Butters okay though?"
"I-I'm okay Eric, I appreciate your concern, really I do...I think we got about seven thousand dollars this time..." each of the boys ran the math and it wasn't a great takeaway for the three of them considering the time and stress that came with pulling off the job. "Oww...!" Butters winced, going slack. "Fellas, I don't think I can do this anymore. It's too dangerous, and I feel like a real somethin' or other frightenin' all those poor people." The company was quiet, Kenny rolling down the passenger side window to have a smoke.
Eric cleared his throat and turned on the radio, "Ahem, well...Don't be too hasty now, Butters. It's really not so dangerous if we can avoid those kinds of simple slip ups. Think it over, won't you?" Butters grumbled, face buried in the carseat, "I guess I'll think about it some more. I know you two would be a man short without me...And I know we all need the money." No one had anything to add to that, brains stewing thinking of their circumstances. They were all still stuck living in South Park with their respective parents, trudging by working off college debt in entry-level positions. Butter's Fashion Design major got him into clothing retail, Kenny's Mechanical Engineering major got him a job at a car garage, and Political Science major Eric Cartman was working at a Taco Bell.
By the time they got back to South Park, Kenny had smoked through his full pack of cigarettes and Eric was late for work; hastily changing behind the building in the back of the car, uncaring if his associates chose to look or not. He wan't much to look at, there was just a lot of him. Kenny walked around to the driver side of the station wagon and slid into the seat just as Eric was putting on his nametag and cap.
"You don't need to tell me, I know the drill." Kenny halted Eric as he looked ready to bluster with commands, "Clean the bills, dispose of the evidence, yadda yadda yadda. I'll pick you up when your shift ends. Just have some tacos ready for me, alright?" Cartman huffed, checking his phone for texts from his pissed off manager, "Take Butters to my place to rest. If his parents catch him while he's limping with that shiner he'll get grounded." Butters whined finding he still couldn't move much without hurting, and he didn't want to get grounded. Twenty-two years old or not, 'as long as you're living under this roof young man...' he could get grounded.
"I'll get him tucked in." Kenny grinned and with the palm of his left hand up he curled his index finger back at Eric as he was walking away to beckon, "Hey, come back here."
"What!? I'm already late!" Eric glared, stomping over and leaning down, planting his hands on the car door.
"...Gimme a kiss." Kenny winked and leaned out the window, tilting his chin up expectantly. "Fff-," Cartman was ready to curse him out for being an asshole that was going to get him fired, but he leaned down and stuck his lips to Kenny's for a full second, a wet smack sounding as they pulled away. "Stop smoking those fucking flavored cigarettes, you taste like a goth kid." Eric was still flustered, but he had destressed somewhat, curves wobbling as he jogged to the back door of the restaurant.
"Do you always come when people finger you?" Kenny shouted after Cartman, referring to the 'come hither' gesture he'd made to get Eric back to the car before. Cartman flipped him off and was gone to another day of wage slavery. Kenny chuckled and pulled away, driving toward his friend's place. Butters was awfully quiet and seeming to want to say something, slowly and gently kicking his feet against the car door. "You and Cartman...? Again?"
Kenny glanced in the rear view at Butters, "I just thought he needed a little pick me up. We're not seeing each other right now. I could ask the same of you though, you spent the night at his house last weekend, right?" Butters nervously threaded his fingers together and twiddled his thumbs. "Uh, well, sorta...But, it's not serious. And if my date goes well this weekend, that'll be the last of it."
"Congratulations, Butters. Who got so lucky?" The pair of friends had woven a number of complicated relationships, but Cartman was mostly dependent on the mercy and libido of the two promiscuous blondes he kept company with. Nothing 'serious' ever worked with the fatass. If he wasn't being selfish and taking you for granted, he was possessive and controlling. Butters and Kenny themselves had a past, but even if they were compatible, nothing clicked enough to make them commit. If they were both lonely and Eric was being a dickhead, they'd meet up to go clubbing or mutually masturbate to internet porn. Bonding over hardcore skin flicks and crossdressing they felt at liberty to discuss anything with each other.
"We've been penpals for a long time, ever since we met at that camp, the one my hypocrite dad sent me to so I could 'pray the gay away'? His name's Bradley, and he was my accountabilibuddy. I told him I was bi-curious before I even knew what it meant. He'd get awfully sad and lonely so I've always tried to stay in touch, because that's what accountabilibuddies do." Butters drums his feet against the door faster with some embarrassment, "He said he had a crush on me! All this time and I guess it took him saying it outright for me to notice. I can be a real dummy like that. But he's gonna drive down and take me on a date!" Butters tried to see Kenny's reaction and winced forgetting the palm-sized bruise on his back keeping him lying down.
"That's really great Butters, I'm glad for you. You boys use protection, mmkay?" Kenny smiled mockingly imitating their old counselor and sex ed teacher as Butters protested. In the back of their minds both of them knew Cartman would be anything but supportive when the news got to him. The unhappy pig in question was just calling out another order from behind the counter in Taco Bell. His manager gave him shit and put him on the line, saying 'one more strike and you're out, buster'. So, when 'they' entered the restaraunt, Cartman struggled to hold in a sigh of contempt. 'They' being Clyde, Bebe, Craig, Token, and Wendy. As far as Eric could tell they came in just to fuck with him.
"Welcome to Taco Bell, Clyde. The usual?" Cartman did his best to compose himself. He needed the job to front for him, to keep his mom off his back. Clyde briefly looked quite satisfied to be regarded as a regular customer with a 'usual', but Bebe hanging off his arm elbowed him in the side. "Oh, uhh...No, I'll haaave...Three cheesaritos, one volcano taco with extra lava sauce, two nacho dorito tacos, and two medium drinks." Cartman started ringing up orders, quietly fuming as each of the group in line slid in a 'secret menu' item that every hipster had learned about thanks to the internet.
"Next!" Token, with Wendy at his side, both mused over the menu for awhile. They had on matching purple sweaters and he silently prayed for them to suffer painful deaths. "I don't know...What do you want, Wendy?" They both hemmed and hawed, which always pissed off Cartman. You ought to know what you want to order by the time you get to the counter. "We'll have a churro, two medium drinks, a gordita supreme, the salad..."
"Why would you get a salad at a taco bell." It just came out of Cartman on reflex. He stood by it, but he immediately regretted saying it, he was just inviting more trouble. "Gee, I don't know Eric, I'm sure getting a salad anywhere must be pretty outlandish for you to consider but I happen to be conscious of what I put in my body." Cartman had a particularly racist comment stabbing at the back of his brain to reply with, but was still managing to maintain and collect the money for their order. "Next!" he sounded again, increasingly exasperated as they tittered in amusement at Cartman's uniform and his overall status serving them fast food and living with his mom. Craig looked stoned out of his gourd and hadn't said a word, eyes narrowed focusing on the menu. "...Craig, what do you want!"
Craig flipped him off and didn't take his eyes off the bright and colorful menus. "Three crunchwrap supremes and a medium drink." Cartman sighed, at least Craig was concise. "Thank you, your number is 107, and your order will be out soon." As usual they milled about instead of sitting down, keeping an eye on him and the other poor soul on duty as they quickly banged out the food orders.
"105, 106, 107." Cartman put out the trays and folded his arms as the group descended to pick apart their orders for imperfections.
"There's chicken in my salad, you know I don't eat meat!" Wendy cried.
"I said no sour cream...!" Craig groaned.
"There's not nearly enough lava sauce on this taco." Clyde bristled.
"Wendy, the chicken salad comes with chicken! Clyde, that's double the normal amount of lava sauce. And Craig, you did not say no sour cream!" Cartman hissed.
The mob rabbled and the manager waddled over just in time. "Is there a problem here?" Cartman fumed and took the orders away, "No! Just...Refiring these orders!" The manager apologized and the more sadistic members of Craig's gang took glee in berating Eric for his performance to his employer before he went back to his office, allowing them to lean expectantly over the counter watching Cartman sweat, unable to do anything but submit.
"105! 106! 107!" Cartman had viciously reassembled the offending items and slapped them back on the counters for re-inspection.
"You didn't even change your gloves, you handled meat with those!" Wendy cried again. "Can I just get like, an extra container of lava sauce?" Clyde sighed. "Hey, I didn't order crunchwraps, I ordered chalupas..." Craig mistook in his red-eyed haze.
"I totally changed my gloves!" Cartman blustered, "Just take your salad, you hippy! Craig, you ordered crunchwraps, like you always do! Clyde! Take your lava sauce and get the fuck out!" Eric tossed extra sauce in a little plastic container in Clyde's bag and herded their orders together trying to shoo the party away.
"Cartman...! In my office!" The manager bellowed and Wendy put on a smug grin, Cartman visibly tensing and clenching every muscle in his body not to grab the nearest person and shove their face into a grill press.
"You show up late, you've got a bad attitude, you take home way too much product, and you regularly berate customers!" The mustachioed ginger manager sighed and shook his head. Cartman did a poor job of defending his bad attitude, crying, "I do not, it's just those assholes! They only come in here to fuck with me!" His boss threw up his hands, "Eric, I've had enough. You're a toxic asset to my branch, and you're fired."
"Fuck taco bell anyway, it gives me the shits!" Cartman screamed; threw his hat at the wall and ripped off his shirt. He barreled through the kitchen bare chested flipping off Craig's gang still in the restaurant, shoveling some warm 98 cent burritos into a bag and stormed out of the building hardly 90 minutes into his shift. Waiting for a ride was more degrading than marching through the elements without a shirt over his fat gut, and so he goose stepped all the way home. Halfway through the trip Token's escalade zoomed by and they threw a baja blast at the back of his head.
"God. Damnit!"
Life had utterly shit on Eric Cartman as far as he was concerned. God had forsaken him, and shined upon those who least deserved it; Like those two assholes that had ditched him and Kenny after high school. That backstabbing ginger jersey jew and his hippy super best boyfriend. He hadn't thought about them in a long time and it did nothing to assuage the hatred he felt for everyone he knew from school except for Kenny and Butters. Even they weren't his 'best friends'. They got along better without him. He had no one. It was just like Kenny said in his will: 'You have no ability to feel, and you are going to die alone and miserable.'
He felt plenty, but never the right thing. He was never in harmony with his surroundings or his peers. He was content to be by himself wasting time on his computer until the night came and he was left alone in the dark, grown out of sleeping with his stuffed toys but longing for something to hold on to. His hair felt sticky and disgusting and the feeling permeated through his very being. When he threw open the door of his home and saw Kenny giving Butters a massage on the couch he could only heave with a heavy sigh.
"Hey, welcome back." Kenny offered, "Wet, shirtless, and carrying food is a good look for you. But what are you doing back so soon?" Cartman tossed the cold fast food at Kenny and made for the stairs, kicking off his boots and what remained of his clothes as he went. "That vindictive slut Wendy and her shitty friends got me fired again. I'm going to take a shower."
"You want some company...? I don't get a hot shower often enough..." Kenny teased but Eric replied in ill humor, "No, thank you!" The bathroom door upstairs was flung open, the ventilation fan and shower running in short order. Butters frowned, "M-Maybe I should wait to tell him...He must be feelin' awful sore already about losin' his job and all..." Kenny ruffled Butter's short and styled blonde hair, growing back from his brief experiment with a mohawk that got him grounded. "You leave that chubby grump to me, Butters." Kenny stripped in the living room and marched confidently upstairs in the buff. No one turned him down. Especially not someone as hard up for attention as Eric Cartman.
"Are you sure you don't want some company?" Kenny Mccormick raised his voice above the din of the running shower water and the air ventilation in the bathroom. Eric was the type to need some alone time once he was angry. The last thing to do was tell him to 'calm down', that really pissed him off. But once the edge was off he'd want to have someone to gripe to. Kenny wasn't always able to be around his friends, spending a good deal of his time between lives stuck in Satan's own private estate 'entertaining' his son Damien Thorn, but being with his friends made him very happy.
Life was charming when they were around, going on adventures that kept him out of the house. He thought that kind of bond would give him the privilege to see his friends grow up even if his lifespan would extend far beyond theirs. However, after dying of alchohol poisoning on his 21st birthday, when he returned to Earth he learned that Stan and Kyle had left town together. He talked to them on the phone now and then and briefly met up over holidays, but they were always 'busy' and distant. He missed them. He knew Cartman missed them too. Why did Stan and Kyle have to 'break up' the group to be together?
"Just get the fuck in here and wash off that cigarette stank," Eric sighed. Kenny peeled aside the shower curtain and stepped in between Eric and the showerhead, confronting him with a friendly smile, picking up a bar of soap to rub over the stocky male's torso. Thick limbs, a big belly, he was like a pink and cuddly teddy bear with an unhappy frown that did little to abate his cuteness. Eric's eyes darted about self-consciously, anywhere but at Kenny. That vision of toned aryan-elder god hunkiness had taken both of his virginities on a certain special occasion one year ago, the only birthday present the poor boy could afford was a stack of hand-written 'coupons' for sexual favors that smacked of a joke until Cartman came to redeem them.
Kenny was much too easygoing about sex as far as Cartman was concerned, even if he had reaped the benefits of that attitude himself. The blonde was teasingly soaping around his backside and between his legs, taking liberties squeezing handfuls of his curvy body. "You'll get another job." Kenny assured him, casually polishing Eric's erection in his hand and passing off the soap. "Where? When? What's the point..." Cartman dragged the soap over Kenny. He really did dislike the smell of smoke. It reminded him of his mother taking johns in her bedroom, each session ending with the click of a lighter and the smell of tobacco, or worse, crack cocaine. Liane tried so hard to compensate acting like a model loving mother, but his friends were only too keen on reminding him that his mother was a crack whore and German porn star.
"Just leave that to me." Kenny smiled down at him and Cartman felt ill because he thought he knew that smile. It was just like his mother. He'd use his body to convince someone to give poor Eric Cartman a living wage. He thought he was his guardian angel..."Where." Cartman asserted again. "I don't know...I think Tweek Bros. could be hiring?" Eric guffawed, "Tweek!?" surely that jittery tweaker had no sex drive to speak of, it'd be too much pressure wouldn't it? "Sure. I throw some oxy his way, put in a good word, I bet he'd give you a chance." Cartman let out an 'oh' with his eyes on Kenny's collar bone. His jealous heart had got him in too much trouble with the dirty blonde in the past. Kenny's primary sources of income were fixing cars, sexual favors, and selling drugs. He did it to pay off his debts, but more important for him was paying toward his sister's education and when money was tight he'd crawl through any muck to keep Karen in school and in campus housing.
Cartman was busy thinking about Kenny still. Did he think he was doing him a favor showing him affection? That nebulous feeling of being together but not together filled him with loathing. "You really are in a bad mood...!" Kenny mused, Eric's member softening in his slick hold. "I'm not in any mood." Eric sighs and leans against his friend for support letting the hot water wash over them, putting away the soap. "I'm so fucking sick of this town Kenny, I need to get out of here. One more job, we could afford a place together. The three of us. Anything is better than this. I'd eat pop tarts for dinner every night if I had to." Kenny quietly felt through Eric's cleaned hair. It would be up to Butters to tell him, but the fatass's plan had a few problems. "We have to be careful, Eric. If we get caught we'll lose everything. No rushing plans. Nothing out of our league."
"Pussy." Cartman spat. They'd never gotten more than ten grand before. They'd never had to shoot anyone. When the trio of amateurs first managed to knock over a liquor store for a measly three grand and some handles of vodka they felt invincible. Cartman was always thinking bigger, but it was simply outside of their means. With Butters quitting...Robbing even a convenience store would be dicey. "I could get away with stealing anything. I could get away with murder." Cartman looked up with ice in his stare, self-assured. "Anything, huh?" Kenny challenged and his mouth was caught by Cartman's, thick fingers digging in his blonde hair tugging him down to mash their lips together, petulantly stealing a kiss. "Anything." Cartman assures him.
"That's a can-do attitude if I've heard one. Just remember that for your job interview." Kenny gently made space for himself with a hand on Cartman's chest, using the other male's shampoo and conditioner. Cartman's chest ached, knowing he couldn't steal what he wanted most, it was something that had to be given freely. Why did Kenny kiss him and fool around with him at all? It just left him wanting something better for himself, something he felt like he didn't deserve. "I'm getting out." Cartman announced and stepped from the shower to towel himself off. "Don't stay up late tonight, I guarantee a job interview in the morning." The fat boy sighed drying off his hair in front of the mirror, "And if you don't?" Kenny poked his head out of the shower, "Then I'll wake you up in the morning with a stack of pancakes and a sloppy blowjob." Cartman turned to hide the piqued interest of his cock, but Kenny saw it in the mirror. "I thought that might excite you. You do love pancakes." Eric laughed in spite of himself and strode out of the bathroom to his bedroom to change. Kenny did a lot for him. He could do more for Kenny, if he'd give him another chance...
Once he had on a clean change of clothes and flopped into bed he felt no drive to get back up again, so he didn't. Part of him waited for Kenny to come to his room dripping hot out of the shower, that would be just like him...But he never did. Out of the shower he dressed and headed downstairs to leave. "Sorry Butters, you're on your own. I've got to go get some hot coffee..." Butters stammered and tried to sit up, wincing and flopping back down, "Huh? W-Wait...! Oww..." The poor boy waited anxiously for Eric to come stomping down from his room but as time passed he wound up falling asleep.
Kenny called up Tweek and met him at his place. He'd been selling him and Craig drugs for a while now, usually just weed and pills. But since a year ago the two weren't speaking and he would meet them for separate deals. Tweek was very particular about how Kenny made the dropoff. He was to park down the street and not say anything incriminating on the phone. Once he was there he had to take off his shoes and wait until they were in Tweek's room to make a transaction. As far as client-dealer relationships went Kenny appreciated Tweek's thoroughness in keeping business discreet for him and tried to keep the process as stress free as possible for him, which included showing up exactly on time. Kenny greeted Tweek with a friendly smile at the door, "Is that coffee I smell? I could sure use a cup..."
"C-Come in, please! Gh!" Tweek was host to an encyclopedia worth of nervous tics. Chewing his lip, the inside of his cheek, his nails. Buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt, there was a wide range of unpredictable spasms he exhibited as well: cricking his neck, twitching his eye, suddenly grimacing and making outbursts of panicked sound. He had been a stark contrast to Craig who exerted as little energy as possible in his movements and kept a flat expression on his face, speaking in slow and even monotones when he was at ease. Kenny had tried to ask once why the two weren't hanging out but it was obviously very distressing for Tweek and he dropped it.
Following the blonde to the kitchen to collect two mugs of the family blend he continued trailing back to his room. There was an old cockatiel in a cage, a computer on a desk with many stress relieving toys around it, a stereo and collection of music, art supplies and Tweek's own paintings on the wall. The style was something unique to Tweek's twitching hand and maybe it wouldn't hang in a gallery, but Kenny thought it had a beautifully human element to it. It was an outlet for his stress and anxiety and even paintings of placid lakes looked shaken and complex with quirky color schemes. The thought of recordings of Bob Ross trying to calm Tweek down with his soothing words and even brush strokes warmed his heart.
"Usually I call you..! I-Is there something wrong!?" Tweek sat on his bed and drank his coffee, taking some solace in that feeling of warmth in his chest. "Nothing's wrong at all with me. How are you, Tweek? We haven't hung out in awhile." The jittery male tried to shake his suspicions and paranoia as Kenny put him at ease by speaking softly. "I'm...I'm okay, I guess. Work's been really stressful! Java got sick last week too! B-But I think she's okay now..." Tweek looked with concern at his pretty, resting cockatiel. It was a very affectionate bird with a nice voice and caring for it was very therapeutic. Cats were bad luck and dogs were far too startling with the way they barked. He didn't think he'd take to caring for a bird either, but it had worked out really well for him. "I-I don't have a lot of money to burn after taking her to get checked up and buying medicine...So, I don't think I can buy from you right now, I'm sorry!" Tweek froze up worrying Kenny might get mad, but he remained just as pleasant, "That's ok. Would you like something anyway? You seem a little high-strung." Tweek bit his lip, he was considering it. Something to take his mind off things...Though he'd need company or he'd risk being stuck alone with troubling thoughts. "Gh! Well, if you're offering...A little pot?"
Kenny nodded along with all of Tweek's stipulations and they each had a smoke out of his one-hitter in Tweek's room, exhaling smoke out the window that was facing away from the street or other houses. Half an hour later Tweek felt like he was melting in bed listening to music, talking to Kenny who busied himself giving Tweek a scalp massage. "Why are you being nice to me Kenny?" Kenny tilted his head, looking at him upside down knelt above him slowly rubbing Tweek's temples. "I'm nice to everyone, Tweek. Though I had a favor to ask...If you could give Cartman a job interview?" Tweek groaned, some of his jitter rising to the surface of his currently doped demeanor, "C-Cartman? But he's an asshole...!"
Kenny chuckled and could scarcely deny it, "I promise, he'll be on his very best behavior. You said work's been stressful, so he could lighten your load. Talk to the customers. Scare the troublesome ones away." Tweek hmmed, his opinions made malleable under Kenny's warm attention. "I guess I can give him a chance. Uhm, are you going to leave now because I said yes?" Kenny shook his head, "I don't have anywhere to go. Just tell me when you want me to leave." Tweek mumbled, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. "But what if I want you to stay longer than you want to stay?" Kenny chuckled and stroked down to the back of Tweek's neck making him shiver, "I'll stay all night if that's what you want." Tweek's face scrunched up in distress and he bit his lip, chest rising and falling. "I-I'd like that...I feel safe having someone there..." Kenny slowly dipped down and planted his lips on Tweek's upside down. The tenseness melted away again, "I know what you mean. I think everyone deserves to feel safe and happy."
When Butters blinked awake the tv was on and Cartman was sitting in front of him on the floor. "E-Eric! Do you want to sit on the couch, too? I'm sorry fer hoggin' it!" The chubby male grunted and affirmed 'why not, it's my couch after all', picking up Butter's legs and setting them down again over his lap. They sat in silence awhile until Eric spontaneously pulled off the ankle sock from Butter's left foot. "H-Hey! What are you doing?" Eric scoffed, gripping the foot in his hand and looking at his colorful toenails in light blue, "I thought so. Nail polish again. You're going to get yourself grounded." his rough digits digged over the skin and Butters sighed, wilting over the couch again. "I can keep a secret. My parents pretend I don't exist most days anyway until they need to justify their marriage." Eric had a firm touch, but that was good for a massage too; selling clothes and robbing banks was just killing the poor blonde's feet.
They were quiet again, just watching tv. "Did you decide...?" Cartman braced himself. Butter buried his face in the crook of his arm. "I'm sorry, Eric. I could have died today." Eric surprised him by responding after a sigh, "I understand." the world couldn't bear to lose someone as sweet as Butters. He was too soft for 'the life' too. Eric spread across the couch behind Butters, looping an arm over him. Just cuddling on the couch was nice. Eric was always extremely warm, which is a valuable asset for cuddling. However, cuddling with him typically led somewhere, and when those pudgy fingers strayed Butters caught him. "Uhm...I-I can't." was all he squeaked out. Eric was silent. He heaved another sigh and sat upright. "I understand..." he uttered again, defeated. He didn't even have to hear there was someone else.
"I'm going to bed." He slogged upstairs and Butters was left bewildered, not expecting that reaction. Seeing him sad made him want to comfort him but...That wouldn't be fair to Bradley, or to Cartman. Unlike Kenny he thought that no strings attached spontaneous shows of affection would do more harm than good. He meekly called out goodnight to the retreating man of the house and clicked off the TV. Eric sunk into his bed upstairs and stared at the ceiling, feeling too bitter to even jerk off. He just wanted to sleep and dream of something better for himself. He tossed and turned and eventually fell asleep, leg thrown up over one pillow with another clutched between his arms.
Stout-Bodied Eric Cartman's wheezing breaths felt like plasma burning from his lungs gushing out into the frigid air in pales of white as he trudged through the snow one foot at a time. The sound of police sirens echoed somewhere in the foggy snowfall. He could be heading right for the cops in pursuit, but he had to keep moving. His back felt hot and sticky, Kenny's blood soaking through his coat as he carried him on his back. The job had gone south fast and the hick security was only too glad to try and gun a man down. Kenny passed off the money to Butters and assured him the wound was a through and through. In the meantime, he was to take the money and run while Eric got Kenny to safety. "When'd you get so strong..." Kenny nuzzles the back of Eric's neck in a delirium, smearing blood from his lips. Cartman could scarcely choke out the words to tell Kenny to shut the fuck up. Kenny fed whispers against Eric's ear, "You can put me down anywhere. No one will remember me...I shouldn't have to be the one to tell you to save yourself."
Cartman growled as he stumbled through the snow piling in up to his shins. "You don't have to die, either!" He knew Kenny could resurrect by now, but he never knew how long he'd be gone. "What am I supposed to do when you're not here...?" Kenny hung his forehead over Cartman's broad shoulder, "You'll miss me, huh...?". Cartman hissed and lurched forward hearing that familiar question; something Kenny liked to ask in the suicidal manias of his younger years. Cartman just had to find somewhere more dry and he could try to patch Kenny up himself. How hard could it be? He'd paid a lot of attention in biology class, though carving up frogs and cats made him a bit queasy and he had to sit out with Stan; Kyle and Kenny ripping on them after school. 'It's just meat. Not even living meat. There's nothing special about it.' That was Kenny's attitude. He seemed to regard even his living bodies with the same reverence as stray cadavers.
"Yes! I'll miss you!" Eric barked, "Making stupid jokes, sneaking into my bed at night, telling me I look good, mooching my food and randomly licking my face like a dog...No one can replace you! If you didn't come back, I'd kill myself!" Kenny gave a frail squeeze around Eric, "Thanks, Cartman." Even if everyone else abandoned him, Kenny would be there for him. Eric didn't deserve to die alone and miserable. Kenny would be one day; he'd be that way many days after when those he cared about most all passed, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone.
"Once I find somewhere to put you down I'm going to shove my hand into your greasy guts, dig out that bullet between all the half-digested poptarts, and you'll be fine! That's the way it's got to be. We both know you can't afford health care, you poor bastard...!" The hot lump weighing him down started to cool. "Didn't you hear me? I said you're a poor bastard, you son of a bitch! Kenny!" Eric dropped to his knees with a corpse slumped on top of him as he cried into the snow.
Cartman called out Kenny's name hoarsely as he awoke in his bed with hot tears in his eyes. He didn't smell pancakes, so he must have that job at Tweek Bros to go to. He didn't smell any breakfast at all, so Butters and Liane weren't at the house either. May as well get coffee and baked goods at work. He wiped his eyes on his forearm and felt pissed off for getting weepy over one Kenny's death. Why did he bother remembering them at all?
He dressed conservatively in brown slacks and a white button-up, just going through the motions and trying not to imagine Kenny naked on his bed telling him how 'handsome' he looked in his Sunday best. He wondered what brought him to relive that time in his dream as he schlepped downstairs to the garage to take the car. Kenny was gone a good three months after that death, everyone but him seemingly oblivious as to his absence, making it that much harder to 'miss' him because Cartman couldn't tell anyone what was really making him so surly. Kenny wasn't on the lam and hiding out in Mexico, he was burning in hell for being a dirty heathen begat by forbidden esoteric rituals.
What was disconcerting was how much Kenny talked up hell. He said Cartman would like it. He'd show him the hotspots and they'd stay in Satan's 'Summer Home'. Cartman realized that once he was dead and in hell, Kenny would still be popping in and out of his life after death due to his rebirths, left with no concept of time, and hanging out with Adolf Hitler would only be entertaining for so long even if Kenny assured him they'd get along famously. Cartman got uneasy thinking about dying, thinking about getting old. He hated old people. Smelly, sexless, feeble-minded, just taking up space trying to convince everyone else their time was better than the present. What the fuck was the point of existing on any plane?
Cartman let out a shaky breath parking on the street in front of Tweek Bros. His thoughts were getting decidedly too emo for his taste, but that's what happened when he got pent up like this. He felt like he could go on a rampage of sex and violence. Had to reel it in. Act like a human being instead of a heartless monster. If Kenny could pull it off, so could he. Tweek snapped alert as the bell above the door chimed, Cartman noticing Kenny sitting in a booth with a mug and a bag of baked goods; wearing his blue jumpsuit and a coquettish smile that made Eric's eyes roll.
"Right, where's my apron." Cartman slapped a hand on the counter and Tweek jumped, "B-But, you're supposed to go through the interview proce-" Cartman groaned, "Fuck job interviews! Start showing me how to make that foofy shit the girls will be asking for." Tweek yelped and Kenny held in a chuckle that was still audible in the quiet coffee house. Cartman was on 'trial' as a barista and once he had some caffeine in his system he was quickly taking to all of the knowledge Tweek had to offer. "G-Gah! Oh god, the morning rush is coming!" Tweek seized up when his eyes flashed over his wrist watch, eyes going wide when Eric slapped him on the back. "Sit the fuck down Tweek, I got this." Tweek stammered protests but Cartman shoved him out of his own workspace and the jittery boy awkwardly sat across from Kenny, keeping an eye on Cartman.
"Sooo...How's he doing?" Kenny braces his cheek on one hand, tilting his head and watching how Tweek chewed on his own lip. It reminded him of the night before...He wore that frazzled boy out until he couldn't muster the energy to even twitch a muscle. It made him feel good, being of use to another person, taking their unhappiness away for awhile. Tweek was definitely more high maintenance than others, but that didn't mean he empathized with Craig at all, who according to Tweek had abandoned him to hang out with 'the gang'. Tweek couldn't maintain being in social settings like clubs and parties, he would rather stay in to talk about music and watch Red Racer. Apparently that hadn't been enough for Craig, even if he was a music snob and a shameless dork for Red Racer.
Cartman took orders, made them without error or delay, and hadn't irritated any of the customers yet. He was doing his job and Tweek could afford to take a breather. "Uhm, good? But what if he-" the wiry blonde's cheeks blush as Kenny squeezes his hand, "He'll keep doing good, I promise. If he doesn't you can fire him, and he won't get mad at you." Tweek didn't know why he believed Kenny but he did, and he smiled having someone to temporarily confide in. He was unwilling to say it out loud, but this was just temporary wasn't it?
Cartman grimaced seeing Kenny hold Tweek's hand, struggling to stay on task, mind working in separate shifts to think and make orders simultaneously. God damn Kenny Mccormick, that back alley whore; plucking heartstrings, getting high off of people's good feelings until their strain of emotion wasn't strong enough for him anymore. Did he really think he was helping anyone but himself acting like a living harlequin romance character, a tortured soul with an immaculate body? He loved and hated Kenny, with the cases for each emotion being very strong. He could go on to catalog each in his mind, but of all the places in town to get coffee...'They' just had to come here. Clyde, Bebe, Token, Wendy, and Craig. Craig hung at the back of the pack and looked like he immediately wanted to leave when he saw the tweaker's fingers intertwined with Kenny's. The schadenfreude felt good for Cartman, helped him produce a good enough fake smile to say: "Welcome to Tweek Bros...May I take your order?"
It must have been a fluke that they came in; they looked surprised to see Cartman behind the counter, so maybe he could get through this without getting fired? Bebe took over for Clyde who was obliviously smiling at Eric with a morning greeting on his lips. He almost felt sorry for the clueless preppy jock, letting Bebe walk all over him with shoes from his shop and his balls neatly stashed in her purse. But hey, maybe he liked that sort of thing. After a brief stint of working with him at his dad's shoe store, Butters was convinced the guy had some kind of fetish for girls' feet and the shoes they wore, eyes lingering on any piece with high heels or open toes. "One large mocha: no sugar, extra dry, with skim milk. One french roast, no cream and two sugars. And two old-fashioned donuts."
The order jarred his mind from thinking of Bebe stomping on Clyde while wearing high-heeled leather thigh highs and he was grateful for it. Her order wasn't especially outrageous either. He was perfectly capable of handling it, though Tweek had extricated his hand from Kenny's and slunk behind the counter while averting his eyes to help out. With the coffee and donuts up on the counter, Token and Wendy were next. They were definitely going to be difficult. Token because he was a rich bastard with 'refined' tastes, and Wendy because she was a wicked bitch who hated his fat guts. "Hmmm, what to get..." that must be a coded phrase between the two, as Wendy stepped in to say, "Well, you know Token, maybe we ought to get some drinks for everyone at your work? I think they'd really appreciate it." Token nodded along, "You're right Wendy, I think that would be a really nice gesture."
Despite protest from his parents, Token had funded a marijuana grow-op seeing a short supply and booming demands in Colorado. He had a hand in multiple businesses and played the stocks for fun, giving money to charities that Wendy picked out after exhaustive research into their structure and overheads. Eric knew Kenny wasn't fond of the big grows because the street market was thrown off-kilter and his home grown stuff was getting looked down on even by non-discerning potheads. The looming threat of a big order obviously stressed Cartman and Tweek; Wendy and Token savoring Eric's pain in particular. 'Those petty twats', thought Eric. When were they going to leave him be? Wendy piled on more orders for people at her work, more for Token's house servants and his parents, until finally the order came to sixteen drinks with multiple special orders, and they threw in Craig's to top it off. "What do you want Craig?"
The legendary Peruvian-styled stoner Craig Tucker mumbled an order for a plain coffee and held fast even as Wendy tried to cajole him into getting something more complicated. It was obviously making him uncomfortable to include Tweek in the hazing against Cartman. The morning rush was still going and people lined up waiting while the monstrous order was assembled.
Kenny took the scene in, studied how everyone reacted to the mounting pressure: People in line impatiently checking the time and stamping their feet between sighs. Clyde was looking over Bebe's shoulder sipping coffee as she showed him pictures of cute animals on her phone. Token and Wendy were gloating and leaning against each other. Cartman looked ready to punch the espresso machine. Craig was furtively watching Tweek's every move with poorly masked concern, the spazzy blonde's hand shaking more intensely as he grew ever more aware of the long line and the mounting pressure to get the big order ready or start losing customers. When he scalded himself on some spilt coffee he leapt back, looking ready to break down. Craig was rooted to the spot like he was watching a train crash with someone he knew on board, but Kenny was up and marching behind the counter to throw on an apron. Tweek stammered a complaint about Kenny not being an employee but Kenny was already following Cartman's lead and helping the next people in line.
Tweek was struggling to compose himself, but Kenny had relieved a good deal of the pressure on him and he sighed with some relief. When he looked up he thought he saw Craig looking at him, but Craig pretended not to notice their eyes connecting and was looking elsewhere. Craig didn't want to see him. He probably asked his friends not to come here for coffee. He probably made fun of Tweek behind his back. "Hey, can you call the order for 17?" Kenny pulled his attention back to focus on work. "Token, Wendy...Gh! C-Craig..." Tweek brought the large order to the side counter, four serving sets with four cups each and one on it's own for the silent raven-haired boy.
The group had to carry one set a piece until Bebe made Clyde carry two, Token stuffing a generous tip into the tip jar. Tweek handed Craig his cup personally and breathed uneasily, daring him to lock eyes again. Craig's fingers closed around the top of the hot cup, avoiding Tweek's trembling digits and his intense stare. 'Say something, anything, please...' Tweek boiled inside but Craig only asked: "Are you dating Kenny Mccormick?" Tweek gaped, "Gh! Wha-? N-No..." Craig mumbled, tugging his cup away from Tweek, "You were holding hands..." Tweek was wringing his hands together, why did Craig care? "He was just...Being nice to me..."
"Oh." That's all Craig said before he was walking away, leaving Tweek stunned in his wake. Kenny Mccormick had a reputation for 'being nice' to people. That single syllable utterance from Craig sounded repulsed. Just like that he and his 'gang' were gone again. Tweek numbly kept working while static blared inside of his head, the voices of others sounding muffled and far away. "Tweek. Tweek...! Tweek!" Kenny had a hand on his shoulder and was trying to snap him out of the dreary trance he'd sunk into. "God dammit Tweek, fucking pay attention!" Eric's angry, intimidating shout pierced through and got him fully functioning again. Kenny was pulling off the apron he'd snagged, "We're through the rush, are you okay Tweek?"
Tweek shook his head and bit his lip, tearing up. "C-Craig...He...Gah! He hates me! He hates me so much! What did I do to him!?" Kenny hugs the tweaker tightly and brushes the back of his hair, "Shhh..." Cartman rolled his eyes, "Fuck Craig! Why do you give a shit about him!?" Tweek clutches Kenny's back tightly, "H-he was my friend! And now..." Cartman pulls Tweek away from his new bright orange security blanket, "And now he's not because he's a hippy asshole stoner burnout!"
Tweek tugs at his hair, "That doesn't explain anything though...Why isn't he my friend anymore?" Kenny and Cartman frown knowingly, sharing a glance. "People you thought were your friends can leave you behind, Tweek. We may not always know why, and we shouldn't care, it's their loss!" Tweek sniffles, he didn't really expect Eric Cartman to be trying to cheer him up. "But I want to know, it keeps me up at night, it hurts." Cartman folds his arms, "Well being a weepy bitch isn't going to get you an answer." Tweek fiddles with the buttons on his uniform top, "What then?" Cartman bumps his fist into Tweek's chest and he stumbles back in surprise, "Get pissed, Tweek!"
The tweaker got wide eyes. He hadn't heard that in years. He had no idea at the time but it was those four troublesome boys that arranged a fight between he and Craig, got them worked up with rumors about how they talked about the other behind their backs. After that fight, and a brawl in the hospital, they came to realize that they really had no reason to be at odds. "S-So I should...Choose him? Start a fight!?" Kenny cocked an eyebrow at Cartman, he wasn't sure if he condoned this or not...
Cartman shrugged, "You have to confront him." Tweek was chewing on the nail of his right thumb, elbow in the palm of his left hand. "What do I do if we can't make up...?" Cartman pilfered some donut holes from the display and snacked to get his energy back up, "What would you want to do?" Tweek took a good long while to think about it but answered, "I'd want to leave this place for good. There's nothing else for me here if Craig doesn't want anything to do with me. But I don't have the money."
Cartman flashed a wide smile taking a look around in the empty coffee house, "I know how you can get the money..." Kenny stepped forward, "Oh, no! No, no, no! Cartman? No!" Cartman wagged a finger, "It's up to him, Kenny! Tweek, what would you think about helping the two of us rob a bank?" The unpredictable caffeine addict's lip twitched, curling and uncurling his fingers into his palms. Normally he'd stammer out all the reasons why that was such a bad idea, such a terrible risk; but all he could think about was Craig. How he left, today and one year before; just left him behind like he was some troublesome pet afraid of it's own shadow. He needed the money, he needed the courage. "Gh!" he started feeling it, started getting pissed off. He was tired of being a slave to his absent parents and to the memories of his best friend. He'd gotten into some dicey situations with Cartman and Kenny before, so... "Grr! Gah! I'll do it!"