((independent))
"This is gonna be so rad, you guys."
For once in their lives, the most-hated (and most chubby) friend of the group of four, was right.
"Yeah but not if you eat all of that chocolate, fatass, hand some over," ordered the driver of the large vehicle.
"Haha, you wish, Kyle," said the so-called fatass as he shoved the rest of the sweets in his mouth. The four friends were fortunate to get concert tickets to see their favorite band and what was even better is that Slash was being featured. Stan popped his feet up on the dashboard of the RV, holding a crinkled map in his hands in order to help Kyle, the candy-less driver, with directions out-of-state.
"Dude you'll want to switch lanes soon," Stan reminded him. Kyle gave a word of thanks and quickly clicked on the blinker and merged.
Everything was going well and according to plan until the fat boy started complaining.
"Ugh, you guys, seriously, when are we gonna get there we've been driving allll dayyyyy!"
"Shut up dumbass its only 1 PM," ordered Kyle, who was not going to handle any of Mr. Chubby's complaints today. They continued bickering until Stan interrupted them both.
"Uh, guys?"
"What is it, Stan?!" Kyle shouted angrily at his friend. Shrugging off the attitude in his voice, Stan looked concerned and said, "I think there's something wrong with Kenny…"
Kenny had been silent the whole trip, which was normal for the poor boy of few words.
"Cartman, take the wheel," Kyle ordered his not-so-much friend and looked back behind his seat to find Stan sitting next to Kenny.
Giving him a gentle nudge, Stan asked hesitantly, "Ken?"
"Whats going on you guys, I can't see," said the stubborn one who was stretching over Kyle to control the wheel.
Kenny reacted very little to Stan's shaking and he was staring straight forward and wide-eyed, only blinking a few times to indicate he was in fact still alive.
"Kenny? Whats wrong, dude?" Kyle asked.
A long moment of silence passed before Kenny opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. Stan and Kyle leaned in, anticipating their friend's response.
"I…" he said, weakly. Another moment of silence fell over the cramped RV.
Kenny slowly turned his head to look Stan in the eyes.
"I left my poptarts in the toaster."
A gruff, blood-curdling scream came from the driver's seat.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Everyone stared at Cartman as the fat boy started to panic.
"Forget the concert, we're going back to save those poptarts, goddammit!" And just like that he took the wheel and swerved the RV across four lanes of oncoming traffic to turn around and head home.
For the poptarts.