What's a poor kid to do, but smoke? He didn't have anything to lose. He didn't have anything to gain. Death lurked around the corner, relentlessly stalking him. So what else was there to do, but destroy his very being before anything else could? It made perfect sense to him. And anything that made perfect sense to him had to be perfectly logical.

As the cold south park winds rolled in, he trudged through the chilly streets, on his way home from a day at Kyle's house. He, Kyle, Stan, and the fatass had played Dead Island and raided the Jew's kitchen like there was no tomorrow. After loads of bagel bites tater tots, and countless cans of cola, Stan had looked at the clock and cursed suddenly.

"Fucking shit, it's already midnight? I said i'd be home at eleven! Dammit, i gotta go guys."

With a wave he scurried out the door, leaving his friends behind. Kenny glanced at the other two boys, suddenly feeling the urge to leave as well. It wasn't that he didn't like hanging out with the other two boys, he just knew that without Stan there to play referee, Kyle and Cartman would bicker even more than they usually did. Sure, it was fun to egg them on for a while, but watching your friends bitch and moan at each other got old sometimes. He threw on his sweater, put on his hood, and slipped out the door with a muffle, "bye." From inside the house, he could already hear Cartman's nasally voice taunting Kyle, probably about being a Jew. Sometimes Kenny wondered what Cartman would tease Kyle about if he wasn't Jewish. Starting down the street he fished a pack of smokes from his pocket, withdrew his lighter, and lit a cigarette with practiced ease.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He had been walking for a while when he heard a panicked cry, followed by a few disgruntled sighs. He glanced farther down the street to see a familiar group of boys emerging from a liquor store with bags of chips and armfuls of assorted coffee packages. As he approached the boys he couldn't help but smirk at the tallest one, clothed in blue, attempting to juggle the coffee in his arms, along with the hand of the twitching blonde next to him. Smiling, he put out his cigarette and cleared his throat.

"Yo, Tucker!" he hollered, satisfied with Craig's glare. Never fazed, that one. The same couldn't be said, however, of Tweek, who cried out in surprise and dropped the bags he was carrying, spilling their contents everywhere.

"ACK! O-oh god c-RAIG IM S-SORRY!" the spaz cried, dropping to his knees to gather the packages as quickly as he could. The other two boys, Clyde and Token, visibly sighed and bent down to help him, Clyde holding his dollar hot dog between his teeth. Craig Tucker shook his head and glared at Kenny again, flipping him off.

"What do you want McCormick." The boy could ask a question and make it sound like a statement. He had this chilling talent of never giving a fuck. Kenny loved that about Craig. He could silence anyone with an apathetic stare and a flash of his middle finger. He could get whatever he wanted if he really tried, but it never seemed like he wanted anything, except for Tweek, that is.

"Oh nothin', buddy ol' pal! Just wondering what you lot were up to." His lazy grin stayed on his lips out of sheer habit, knowing it angered the taller boy immensely.

"Bullshit." Craig sneered, knowing all too well the blonde had an ulterior motive for everything.

Kenny gave his best puppy dog face and grinned even bigger up at Craig. He wasn't that much shorter, but there was still an obvious difference.

"What, you don't trust your old pal Kenny?"

"No."

With mock hurt, Kenny held his heart, "Tucker, I'm hurt!"

Tweek's eyes grew even bigger as he shot up from picking things up off the floor. "H-he didn't mean it ngh K-kenny!"

Craig's eyes twitched as Kenny's smirk grew even bigger. He grabbed Tweek's waist and pulled him towards him, practically touching their noses together. "Oh Tweek, no one understands me like you do!"

The twitching blonde in his grasp looked like he could faint at any moment, shrill cries coming from within his throat.

Out of sheer sport, Kenny cried "oh, kiss me!" before leaning in.

Kenny walked down the street, rubbing his eyes.

"Shit," he mumbled with a small smile, "I was just joking, he didn't' have to punch me in the face."

With a sigh he continued down the street, almost hoping he wouldn't get into any more shit before he got home.