Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of the following characters.

Craig's Mom's Bushes

Clyde's POV

There are these evergreen shrubs on either side of the steps leading up to Craig's front door. They used to be in pots, but Craig's mom transplanted them into the ground, years ago. In the Spring. I know this in the back of my mind, but the only thing I can really think, right now, is that these plants look like great replacements for a toilet. I only need one, though, so I pick the shrub on the left. Left just feels right.

"What are you doing?" Craig's voice interrupts my deep thoughts (I can't remember what exactly I was thinking about, but that's probably because I was thinking so deeply). By the sounds of it, he's not really curious or upset with my actions. He sounds as apathetically monotone as ever.

"Taking a piss."

"Why can't you use the bathroom, like a normal person?" I sense the slightest bit of amusement in his voice.

"Tweek was using it, and then he had to wash his hands for ten goddamn minutes." I finish up, and zip my fly. There's no soap or water out here, so I guess I'll have to go find Tweek, and fight him for the sink. Maybe I'll ask Craig for some pointers. They fought once, in third grade.

Or maybe, I'll just wash my hands when I get around to it.

"So, why couldn't you go in the snow?" This isn't so much curiosity, as it is Craig being his pragmatic self.

I don't really have an answer for him, though. Maybe I'm part dog, or something? Needed to raise my hind leg and mark my territory.

I stagger up Craig's front steps, reaching for a railing that I realize, too late, isn't actually there. I don't know why I expected there to be one, since I should be familiar with the layout of Craig's house by now. Anyway, I fall off the top step, onto the fucking shrub I just peed on! Why me?!

Oh yeah... Because you drank too much, Clyde. You drank too much, and now you're lying on your back, in the snow, on a plant that's covered in your own piss; and now you're covered in your own piss. You're covered in your own piss, and it's all because...

Okay, I lied about drinking too much. I didn't actually drink very much.

It's because I'm a lightweight.

But, if you think about it, that means—by my standards—I did drink too much. Right? Maybe.

Craig actually laughs. That fucker would laugh at something like this. He won't laugh at my jokes, but he'll laugh at me, like I'm some kind of joke.

"What's going on?" Tweek says, poking his head out the doorway, followed by Token. "I thought I heard Craig laughing hysterically." He sounds skeptical, as though he assumes his ears were just playing tricks on him.

"Did Clyde slip on another patch of ice?" Token chimes in with his never-ending wit.

"No!" I shout again from my place on the ground. I can't seem to gather the energy to lift myself up. "I fell off the steps."

Tweek decides to lend me a hand, like the good friend he is. I make sure to shoot Craig a glare, while Tweek's helping me up.

"Into your own piss," Craig adds, probably only to intensify my humility.

"What?!" Tweek exclaims, quickly letting go of my hand.

"Well, I kinda peed on that shrub before I—."

"You peed on it?! Did you wash your hands?!"

"Oh, yeah... I better go do that."

Tweek gapes at his own hands, probably realizing they became soiled again when he helped me up. "I'm washing mine first!" He snaps angrily.

I knew it would come to this. Now, Tweek and I, have to battle (to the death) for the sink.

I can see it now: Tweek smacks me with a loofah, I spray him with the detachable showerhead, one of us demands the other to "drop the soap!," and it comes out totally wrong. I obviously win, because I say so.

Just kidding. He can go wash his hands for another ten minutes. I'll get around to it eventually.

Meanwhile, I have to focus on getting up these steps and into this house without falling flat on my ass. I beg Craig (ha ha, that rhymes) to carry me, but he says he'll only do it if he can drop me, which is exactly what I want to avoid; falling. I know I can actually make it up the steps, though. I'm just trying to be a pain in the ass. Craig says I don't have to try.

"Hey!"

"I'm just kidding. I thought that was your objective, though."

"Well, I said I was trying to be a pain in the ass. You implied that I'm a natural at it."

"Well, I was kidding," he repeats, finally helping me up the steps.