All characters and events in this show- even those based on real people- are owned by Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me. All characters have been impersonated... poorly. The following story contains coarse language and due to its content it should not be viewed by anyone
"Happy birthday!" The raspy voice emanates from the side of Stan's bed, awakening him with a jolt. The first thing he sees are those teeth of his- slightly rotten, extremely wonky but always there; always smiling.
Next the stench of skunk weed hits him.
"Thanks, Ken." he smiles politely. His birthday wish right now is that Kenny would go away and wake him up a few hours later when he's had some beauty sleep, but living with Kenny is like having a four-year-old son living with you. A four-year-old who smokes a lot of pot, that is.
"You look ancient," he chuckles, scratching his stubbly yellow beard as Stan groggily stretches out his spine, sitting up. "Hungover?"
"Extremely." Stan's bemoans his room-mates existence, and his own too. Kenny is impervious to hangovers. Apparently that's what happens when you physically perish from alcohol poisoning enough times in your early twenties.
Stan eyes the poorly wrapped present in his hands. "Don't suppose that's a box full of aspirin?"
Kenny shudders. "If you want that much aspirin, you got bigger problems than a hangover, man." He shakes his head, tossing the present towards the bed. Stan's years of being a star sportsman in school fail him once again, and it lands heavily against his chest.
"Ow." He says, somewhat arbitrarily, picking up the present and giving it a good shake.
A few careful unwraps later, he finds himself face to face with what appears to be a Finding Nemo themed vibrating cock ring.
"Kenny. What- and I can't stress this part enough- the fuck?" he stares down at the god-forsaken thing. He briefly wonders why the perpetually-broke Kenny would bother spending money on such a thing. The thought occurs to him that it could be used and the gift flies out of his hands in horror.
His crooked-toothed companion sends him a vibrant grin of pride, picking it back up from the bed. "I know it's been a while. So I got you this, to compensate!" he pauses, assessing the look on Stan's face. "I stole it from Craig's. It's new!"
"Jesus, man!" Stan says with disgust. "If you think my dating life is that poor, you should have just put me out of my misery and shot me, already." He tosses the present aside. "Whatever. Thanks, I guess."
Kenny's grin remains firmly fixed in place, and Stan's got the distinct impression that there's something else, too. "What?" he says, unnerved.
"I got you somethin' else, man!"
Suspicions confirmed.
"You gotta get out of bed, though."
"Shit. We're not going to Vegas or something, are we?" he asks, dubious.
Kenny laughs, as if this suggestion is utterly ridiculous. "The next best thing. We're heading to Denver for a weekend of booze, bitches, and… erm…" Kenny wrinkles up his nose in his efforts to conjure some alliteration.
"Breakfast?" Stan's stomach grumbles hopefully.
"Barbiturates!" Kenny finishes, clearly pleased with himself.
Stan chuckles at his friend. "I'm not sure barbiturates are a recreational drug, Ken." He chuckles. "Maybe… blow?" he says, after screwing up his face in thought.
Kenny's face lights up in excitement at the mention of the word. "Now that's the party spirit!"
Stan's not really sure how Kenny managed to drag his sorry ass out of bed, let alone into a car for an hour and a half to drive to Denver, of all places. It was probably because he owed Kenny, big time.
Kenny, conversely, had recently come into a bit of money, which he planned to spend on hookers, booze and drugs in their state capital with his best friend. It was to be a fun-filled weekend, at any rate. And, as it turns out, rather more fateful than either of the two boys had expected.
The first thing that happened was Kenny's shitty car breaking down.
It wasn't dramatic so much as just a few weird engine sounds and then crawling slowly to a halt about two miles outside of South Park. Two miles might not seem like much, but to two hungover twenty-year olds in the freezing cold rockies of Colorado, it was a nigh impossible situation.
"I told you we should have taken my car." Stan bemoans, when they've reached a standstill.
"Your car has that weird burger smell at all times," Kenny retorts in his famous muffle. "Makes my stomach rumble, and I don't need that."
Stan does eat a lot of burgers in that car, he has to concede the point. But he'll be damned if he's going to let Kenny go this easily. "Like you can talk- your backseat is drenched in cum stains. And at least my car works!" He grumbles, folding his plaid-sleeved arms over his plaid-covered chest defensively.
Kenny snickers. "Hey man, those stains remind me of some of my best moments."
The top three of those moments which included:
3. An expedient warmth-wank, when he was stranded in the woods at freezing temperatures, on a camping trip. It is worth noting that Cartman and Butters were asleep (or at the very least desperately pretending to be) in the front seats at the time.
2. An ill-advised blowjob from his English teacher, Miss Mahoney. Nice, I hear you recite. His grade point average had never quite been the same after that little excursion.
1. The loss of Kenny's own virginity, by none other than Kyle's first-love-turned-rampant-whore Rebecca. The fact he'd maybe SORT OF slipped her a twenty beforehand didn't shame it away from the top spot, though.
Needless to say, calling shotgun when riding with Kenny was of paramount importance.
But back to the matter at hand.
"What the fuck are we going to do?" Stan had just about managed to ask, when he spotted a sign for a gas station a few miles away. "We'll have to walk, and beg someone to tow us back. Then we can get my far superior car." He enunciates, feeling petty.
Kenny swears in concession.
And so began the rather miserable trudge to the rather miserable gas station, which of course was run down and looked like it might be owned by some greasy old trucker named Luke, or something. I mean, Stan was just guessing- perhaps it was the fact that it was called 'Luke's' which lead him to that conclusion.
Or maybe it was just that everything in his life was one big old hick-town cliché.
Stan doesn't realise that he's just said that entire diatribe out loud until he finds himself pondering when he started saying words like 'cliché'. But it's not like Kenny's listening, he's too busy staring with intense concentration out the window at some blonde chick that happens to be filling up her gas.
"For god's sake, Kenny. At least wait until we get to Denver. You're out of control." Stan scoffs, laughing a little as he does.
"No, no." Kenny frowns. "I mean.. hell yeah. But also… I recognize that frizzy hair." Kenny elaborates. "That's Bebe Stevens, I swear. Ten bucks that's Bebe."
Stan slits his eyes a little and stares after her.
"Yeah, you're right." Stan grins, breaking into a jog to greet her. After all, the two of them used to be decent friends at school, while he was dating Wendy and Kyle was somewhat grudgingly dating the blonde. Besides, Bebe was one of those people who'd stuck around after high school, so it wasn't like they didn't bump into each other from time to time.
She clocks Stan as he's coming towards her and she smiles a little distractedly. "Oh, hey! How are you?" she pulls him in for a hug. "Long time no see. And is that Kenny McCormick I spot at your side?" she gives him a wave as he approaches, somewhat less rapidly than his counterpart. "What the hell are you guys doing all the way out here on foot? You must be absolutely freezing."
"We were heading to Denver, actually. We were going to find someone to tow us back to South Park so we could go and get Stan's car."
Bebe laughs. "How serendipitous. I was just heading to Denver, to see my grandpa. You boys want a lift? It's only an hour and a half. No need to pay me for gas."
Stan and Kenny both share a gob-smacked look, in which neither of them can quite believe their luck, and hastily agree. Kenny calls shotgun, to which Stan is glad, because it means that Kenny can make conversation with Bebe for an hour and a half, while he could lounge and possibly catch a few z's in the back seat.
And boy, girl could sure talk.
About twenty minutes in, Stan's regretting agreeing to the lift, because he's so sick of her shrill voice taking him on a journey through the lives of all their school friends.
"Everyone says that Red's stupid, getting married so young. But I think David is so nice, I'm just pissed that she asked Wendy to be the maid of honor, not me." Bebe pauses for breath but then immediately continues her stream-of-consciousness. "Ooh, speaking of Wendy- have you spoken to her at all, Stan?"
"No." he shrugs. Things hadn't ended well there, and there was no need to talk about it with Colorado's biggest gossip, of all people..
"Well, if you ever wondered what she's up to, I have her number and I'm sure she'd love to see you. She's in Denver this weekend, as well- as luck would have it. We were planning on meeting for coffee." Bebe's expression is one of smug satisfaction. "You boys should join us!" she exclaims, her hand lingering on Kenny's arm for just a smidgen too long.
Stan resists the temptation to pinch the bridge of his nose. Is there anyone they know that isn't in Denver this weekend? He knows it's ridiculous, but right now it seems like the universe is telling them NOT to go on this trip.
He sighs. "Bebe, I don't think Wendy wants to see me." He says simply.
Bebe's eyes narrow into tiny little slits and a ghost of a smile appears on her face. "Oh? I wouldn't be so sure."
Ominous, Stan thinks. He doesn't say anything on the matter, but a sinking feeling begins to take lodge in his chest.
When Bebe was hellbent on something, it would happen.