I Got Rhythm, I Got Issues

by Snodin

Act II: "Once Bitten, Twice Shy." Can Jeff, the new school chef, help Kyle get over his fears? Will he attend the school dance? And what's Cartman doing in his room again?

1. Bust A Move or DIE!

"I Got Rhythm, I Got Issues"

A story based on "South Park,"

Created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone

Written by Snodin

ACT I: "Bust A Move… or DIE!"

*

South Park Elementary, Wednesday morning.

It was imperative that the 4th grade class president and his vice- Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski, respectively- settled any and all debates regarding school activities. On this particular morning, the subject was "Spring Formal Dance Theme," a topic that didn't sit well with Kyle, but since he was the VP, he had no choice but to help Stan tackle it.

On the chalkboard were the words in thick white: DANCE THEMES. Underneath the title were rows of favored options; "Wild West," "Star Wars," "Zombie movies," "Pirates vs. Ninjas," and "No dance at all." Stan and Kyle shared a mini-podium in front of the class while the other nine-year-olds began hooting and hollering over their chosen favorites.

Stan banged his small gavel. "Order? …Order in the classroom! Can we please have order here, people!? ORDER!" Bang-bang-bang-bang!

Stan's pleads fell on deaf ears, as the class was still erupting with chatter, hollering, and even two or three kids running around aimlessly. It was time for Kyle to take charge: "SHUT THE F*CK U-U-U-U-U-UP!!!"

All was calm and quiet at last.

"Thank you," sighed Stan. "Now I have some really bad news for those of you that actually care about the upcoming Spring Dance. Kyle and I have just received word from the principal that all of our suggested themes for this year's dance have been denied. Apparently, all the other grades want to go with a romantic theme. Again."

"Awwwwww! Boo! Boo!" came opposing voices.

Suddenly, a small black shoe came hurling at Stan's head; like George W. Bush, he dodged it just in the knick of time. "GAH!" He quickly recovered and pointed out his attacker. "That was totally uncalled for, Craig!"

"I didn't do it," denied the boy in dark blue; while he coyly folded his arms behind his back, his left shoe was clearly missing. Meanwhile, the opposed children kept up their banter.

Kyle grabbed the gavel and banged it. "People! PEOPLE! This is ridiculous!"

"I'll say," agreed Clyde. "Every year, we do the same ol' stupid romantic theme. It's time for change I say!"

"Here-here!" cheered Cartman.

Stan explained to them, "Look, we could always take the same old theme and change it up a little. If anyone's got a suggestion, I'd love to hear it.

"Oo, how about a celebrity couple theme!" cooed Wendy, his love interest. "I like that idea," said Bebe nearby.

"Can't we still have the Pirates and Ninjas and have them fall in love with each other?" asked Craig desperately.

Stan replied, "Okay, we'll set up a new meeting over which romantic theme we can use instead of the same old schtick. We'll meet back here at the end of the week with our suggestions. And with that, we're adjourned!" He then banged the gavel.

As most of the class cheered, another small shoe came whirling at the podium like a rock. Both Stan and Kyle dodged it with cat-like reflexes." GOD-DAMMIT, CRAIG!" snapped Stan.

*

On their way to their next class just after their debate, Stan and Kyle were being followed by an energetic Cartman. "Hey-hey-hey, Kahl! Are you gonna dance this year? Are you? Huh? Huh? Are you?"

"What's it to you, fat boy?" asked Kyle without looking back at the overweight pest.

"I gotta know so I can bring mah video camera and put it up on YouToobe. Seriouslah, everybody's gotta watch you dance, Kahl; it's almost as funny as watchin' a penguin try to fly. Almost!"

"Lay off him, fatass!" hissed Stan defensively. "We don't even know if there's gonna BE a spring dance, after what happened last year."

"Yeah," nodded Kyle. "Those idiot eighth graders just had to sneak in those bottles of beer, and the whole thing got shut down before nine o' clock."

"Just when we were about to do The Electric Slide, they were doing the Cross-Dresser-ho-down," exampled Stan with a mortified look on his face.

"You gahs," argued Cartman, "there's just gotta be a spring dance! I betcha they're havin' a meeting about it in the staff room right now, talkin' about how they're gonna cut back on da drinks this yah."

*

Cartman was right, in a way. The discussion over preparations for the up-coming spring dance had already taken place in that week. Principal Victoria had called in an emergency meeting with the whole staff- all the way down to the janitors- and met with them in the staff lunch room. They positioned their tables around each other to make a perfect circle before the debate began.

"Okay everybody," she opened with; "the spring dance is just two weeks away, but now's as good a time as ever to make sure no alcohol is snuck in. Let us not forget what happened last year with the eighth graders and their 'chaperone cousins.'"

Mr. Mackey, the counselor with a bubble-shaped head, spoke his peace. "Oh, uh, that was totally my fault, m'kay? I honestly thought those boys were related to our students."

"They were all Puerto Rican, you dumbass!" scoffed Mr. Garrison nearby.

"Okay, calm down everybody!" snapped Principal Victoria just as her peers started to respond all at once. "Our first rule will be to hire adults we know and trust. Any suggestions?"

"We can invite some of the parents," suggested a female teacher. "Oh yeah, sure," said a male teacher sarcastically; "Let's get the McCormick guy on it. I'm sure he'll keep the booze away from the kids."

"What about Mrs. Broflovski?" suggested Mr. Adler, the shop class teacher.

"The raving bitch from Hell??" gasped Mr. Garrison. "She'll ban us AND the eighth graders from the dance."

Miss Pearl, the home economics teacher, responded with, "I have the perfect suggestion for a chaperone. The kids have always looked up to him, and he's always looked out for them. So it's only right that we hire… Chef."

All eyes turned to the lowest-ranking man on the totem pole: a skinny, white man with tan, combed back hair under his chef hat and a light blue shirt under his "Chef" apron. "…Me?" he asked befuddled.

Principal Victoria frowned disapprovingly. "Miss Pearl, this Chef has just started working here; the other Chef that the kids looked up to… well… he died."

Miss Pearl simply smiled, "Well this will be a good way to get them to get to know the new Chef."

"But… I don't really like kids," frowned the still bewildered chef. "And my name is Jeff."

"I see the point that Miss Pearl is trying to make," replied the principal. "You as the chef, Jeff, will already have access to what the kids will eat. Therefore, you can inspect the punch bowls and whatnot. Also, this would be a good way for you to become more comfortable around our students."

Jeff still looked displeased by this notion. "Uh… Shouldn't we put it to a vote?"

"Certainly," smiled the principal. "All in favor for Jeff being a primary chaperone for the dance, raise your hands." All but Jeff's hand jumped to the air. "All opposed?" Jeff's hand alone went up. "It's settled then. Jeff, the dance floor will be all yours."

"Damnit," he cussed under his breath.

*

Lunchtime was the right time of the school day for Stan and his three lifelong friends to talk more personally about the upcoming dance. All four of them were clearly anxious about it, but for different reasons. As they stood in line for the food with trays in their hands, they appeared in order: Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny.

"I don't see what the whole big deal is," muttered an already troubled Kyle. "I mean, it's not like a prom or anything…"

"Dude, nobody's forcing you to go to the dance if you don't want to," Stan quickly replied.

"But that's just it, Stan. Everybody's making such a big fuss over it- even Cartman's going. If I don't show up, I'll be the laughing stock of the school."

"You're already the laughing stock of the schoo', Kahl!" said Cartman standing behind him.

"Did you hear something?" asked Kyle sarcastically to Stan.

"Nah, just the same old fog horn," joked Stan. "Anyway, if you want dude, I can help you control your rhythm beforehand. I got 'DDR' at home."

"I got a better idea," smiled Cartman. "Let's have a dance-off and see which song Kahl trips over his head on."

No longer ignoring the fat brat, Kyle glanced back at him and growled, "I'm definitely a better dancer than you, fatass."

"Oh-ho-ho! Is that a challenge?"

"Sure, you're on. Tomorrow afternoon in the playground. Stan, you bring the music. Kenny, you bring the paramedics because I'm gonna kick the fat boy's ass!"

At that point, the boys finally made their way to the center of the aisle, where they were met with the polar opposite of their once trusted friend, Chef.

"Hey there, kids."

"Hey Jeff," they said in unison.

"What can I do for you tykes today?"

The boys looked at him funny; something about his mannerisms was off. After a brief moment of awkward silence, Stan then told him, "That's not what you're supposed to say."

"It's not?"

"No, you're supposed to say 'How're my little crackers today?'"

"Oh… uh… H-how're my little crackers today?" Jeff repeated awkwardly.

"Bad," the boys frowned in unison.

"Oh…"

"… Now you're supposed to say 'Why bad?'" Stan directed him again.

"Oh. Why bad?"

"The stupid spring dance is coming up," frowned Kyle, "and I'm afraid of looking like a total idiot in front of everybody."

Jeff sympathized and replied, "Oh, well, dancing is supposed to be fun, you know? It doesn't matter what everybody else thinks about your moves."

"Uh, actually it does," argued the young Jewish boy.

"Well try zoning them out," suggested the tall skinny Caucasian chef. "Lose yourself in the music; you know?"

Kyle cocked an eyebrow. "…What the hell does that mean?"

"Just close your eyes and follow your heart, kid. Try to imagine yourself all alone in the room and just… let go."

"Oh…" Kyle seemed satisfied with Jeff's advice, but then he wondered, "Aren't you gonna sing a jazzy love song to us?"

"Huh?"

"You know… 'I'm gonna make love to ya woman, I'm gonna lay ya down by the fire.'"

"Sing it, sista!" cheered Cartman- funny thing is, he seemed serious about this remark.

"I'm gonna wax ya down with lotion, and whatever the next part is…"

"Uh, kid?"

"We're makin' love, baby, love, baby…"

"Kid!"

"Love-love-love-love-BABAAAH!"

"KI-I-I-I-I-D!"

Kyle froze in alarm and stared up at the bewildered Jeff.

"Just… take your God-damn Salisbury steak and move down the line! Please!"

"Okay, fine," said an offended Kyle.

"Bye, Jeff!" said the boys in unison as they proceeded down the lunch line.

Jeff watched them move on, clearly creeped out by them. "I quit Chéz Louis for this?"

*

The Tavern, later that evening.

Most of the usual crowd had seated themselves at the bar to watch the football game, most notably the fathers of Stan, Kyle and Kenny. When to everyone's surprise, Mr. Mackey the school counselor walked through the front door and waddled up to the bar.

The bartender recognized him and smiled as he wiped clean a beer cup. "Hey, Mackey! You back on the wagon again?"

"No, no. Alcohol is bad, m'kay? I was just wondering if any of the eighth graders had been in here recently, m'kay?"

"I don't allow anyone under eighteen in here, Mackey. We got strict rules against underage drinking."

"Well, it's just that the spring dance is coming up, m'kay? And the older students make a really big deal out of it, m'kay? They see it as an excuse to experiment in adult things, like alcohol and drugs and makeouts. M'kay?"

"Well," argued Randy Marsh nearby, "there's nothing wrong with a little experimenting once in a while. I mean, we all do it don't we?"

"But that's different, you folks are adults, m'kay?"

"M'kay, Mackey. I'm sorry, m'kay?" mocked Randy. His drinking buddies giggled, while his target remained clueless.

Said the bartender, "Don't you worry, Mackey, I know the difference between an eighth grader and a grown-up. If any kid sneaks in here, they'll get carded immediately."

"M'kay, then I guess I'll just have a look around, m'kay?" As the bubble-headed counselor walked off, the other grown-ups continued to make fun of his voice in whispers.

Mackey was no fool, though. He was suspicious of his students to the point where they would try anything. He walked all around the bar to glance at the customers, from the folks sitting at the tables to the ones by the jukebox. He finally stopped at the pinball machine, where a group of young men were gathered while wearing long trench coats and suede hats.

"Excuse me," asked Mr. Mackey, "have any of you gentlemen seen kids sneaking in here?"

"Nope," answered the hidden face playing pinball. "Hadn't seen any, old man."

"M'kay… Hey, what's that you're playing?"

"Pinball Wizard."

"Uh. Is that a fun game, m'kay?"

"It's okay I guess… What's it to ya, old timer?"

"Well, it's just that I hadn't played pinball in so long… You kind if I try it?"

The young man with the hidden face seemed hesitant at first, with eyes that darted left and right. But then he stepped away along with his friends. "Uh… sure, I guess. Go to town, mister."

"It's Mackey. M'kay?"

"Whatever, Mr. Mackey."

Then he heard it, a recognizable voice! "A-ha!" cheered Mackey, as he threw off the young man's hat. "Billy! I knew that was your voice, m'kay!?"

"Oh, crap!" gasped the eighth grader, as he and his friends were exposed.

"You boys shouldn't be in here, this is an adults-only place! M'kay? Beat it, before I turn you all in! M'kay?"

"Come on guys, let's get outta here!" Billy and his four friends made a hasty retreat, while the impressed adults nearby looked on.

"Wow!" gasped Stewart McCormick. "That was some sweet work, Mackey!"

"Thank you."

"You wanna beer?"

"No thank you, alcohol is bad. M'kay? It messes with your mind and damages your liver, m'kay?" And with that, the school counselor left the tavern, satisfied with his fine work.

Stewart then glanced down at his half-full beer cup. "…It does?"

*

The playground, Thursday afternoon.

Right on schedule, the four boys met in the center of the snow-powdered playground. Stan carried in his giant boom-box with little effort, an impressive feat for such a short nine-year-old.

"Okay you guys, this is it," he said as he jumped in between Kyle and Cartman. "I want a good clean dance-off. No hitting and no kicking in the balls, you got it?"

The fat boy raised his hand. "Can we kick snow in each others' faces?"

"No."

"Gah! You suck as a referee, Stan!"

"You guys only get one song, so make the most of it." As he said this, Stan pulled out from his coat pocket a CD. Kenny looked it over and his eyebrows shifted.

"Poofy-pat dollf??"

Stan defended his choice of The Pussycat Dolls quickly; "Dude, I don't have any dance albums, so I had to borrow one of my sister's. Sorry, but this was the best I can get."

Kenny shook his head and gave Stan the "tsk-tsk" hand gesture. "Fer shame, Fan. Fer shame."

Cartman was already hopping on his feet in anticipation for the showdown. "I've been practicin' all night, Jew-boy. I'm gonna dance circles around yer skinny lil' ass."

"Bring it on, tough guy," responded his competition.

That's when some of the other kids, namely Clyde, Butters and Craig, walked up to them. "Hey," muttered a curious Clyde, "you guys gonna fight?"

"No, we're having a dance-off," explained Kyle.

"Oh! C-can we watch?" smiled Butters excitedly.

"I guess," replied Kyle a bit reluctantly.

Stan put in his sister's CD and cued up the song of his choice. "Okay, whenever you guys are ready… And, go!"

(Song: "I Hate This Part, Dance Club Remix")

Kyle tried to get into the zone, when he recognized the tune and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "…Is that The Pussycat Dolls?"

"Just do it!" yelled an aggravated Stan.

"Okay, fine. Yeesh… You first, Fatass."

"How generous of you," smiled Cartman smugly.

Cartman's routine started out simple enough; high-kicking combined with his arms raised out like the wings on an airplane. He was wise to use the bloat of his belly as an anchor while he spun 'round in place. Then, he pointed to Kyle as a cue for him to start.

Kyle responded with a similar routine; arms bent and swaying while kicking his feet in a basic tap dance. Then to top it off, he made a kick-jump like a figure skater, but didn't get very high. He then waved for Cartman to go.

The fat boy did the Roboto for the first half of his second turn, then moved smoothly into a "Live Wire" in which his arms flowed loosely like electricity. He then "passed the power" over to Kyle, whose arms were in synch with Cartman's.

Kyle kept his right foot in the air while he made four quick hops down a straight line before spinning in a reverse move, then did three push-ups as he caught himself from falling- a perfect save. In fact, it was a little too perfect. He then did his own version of the classic Russian kick-dance before passing it back to Cartman.

Meanwhile, the crowd started to grow with more curious kids, all of which were breath-taken by such smooth moves from both rivals. Stan and Kenny, on the other hand, were more focused on crossing checks underneath the names KYLE and CARTMAN respectively. So far, they seemed to be tied.

Kyle and Cartman decided to kick it up a notch by dancing together during the chorus, hopping around as if they had practiced the routine before.

Cartman was quick to regain the lead with a quick-step into a full-out solo waltz. For a heavyset boy, he was surprisingly graceful, and that intimidated Kyle for a moment. But then, Kyle responded with another tap-dance-like routine, complete with waving arms and bending of his invisible knees.

Cartman's next move was his ultimate show: he opened with his famous German Dance routine, then went straight into a belly roll that made him as fluent as a slab of jelly. Then, he did a backward tumblesauce into a swan dip before kicking himself back up and moonwalked like Michael Jackson. Then to finish it off, he did a near-perfect split into an Indian sit.

Kyle was already short of breath by this point, but the look on his face showed that he was far from over. As he tippie-toed into his next routine on bended knees, he blatantly tore off his orange jacket and whipped it into the air, revealing a white tee-shirt, before doing a Michael Jackson-styled spin, then did a half-split and slid back up flawlessly. He then immediately went into a graceful quick-step all around the fat boy before doing a perfect head-stand. Then he actually walked on his hands in said head-stand with his legs kicking to the beat, and tumbled into a full-on breakdance. He spun around on his back and twisted his sides like a stripper minus the bar, then landed on one hand as he glanced evilly at his rival. The crowd was floored!

Cartman was stunned at first, almost missing his cue, but then he went into a desperate jelly-belly routine similar to his previous turn. Kyle interrupted his move with a snake-walk, the one where his whole body moves forward like a slinky. His advancement forced Cartman into the edge of the crowd, and then it was all on Kyle.

Something amazing and even miraculous seemed to happen during this dance; somewhere along the way, Kyle made a complete transformation from shaky tapdancer to confident pro. In truth, he had zoned out of the moment, just as chef Jeff told him to, and lost himself in the music. He had completely let himself go, and that's when he really got good! He started pulling out all of the steps from the book on 80's and 90's dancing, all in one smooth routine that happened so fast that no one could even keep up with. He made great high-jumps, martial-arts-like kicks, even a spin on his head- mostly thanks to the fact that the top of his hat was flat.

And just when he was really getting into the moment, when it seemed like he was dancing on air, he opened his eyes.

(SFX: Record scratching- End song)

Time seemed to stand still as Kyle opened his eyes and was suddenly surrounded by staring faces. He froze in mid-pose in reaction to the dead silence and shocked eyes all around him. He was immediately uncomfortable with this, and couldn't think of anything else to do but take off in flight. He only came back for his orange jacket, then ran for the hills in panic.

There was an awkward silence until Cartman broke it. "…You see?? I told you he sucked!"

*

The bus stop, Friday morning.

Having beaten his friends to the bus stop, a lonely Kyle sighed. But it wasn't long before Stan, and Kenny showed up, ready with their comments.

"Hey dude, you ready for today?" asked Stan.

"What's today?"

"The day we tally up the votes for the dance themes."

"Oh… Man, this dance is gonna suck. I hate romantic themes."

"'Sup you gahs," Cartman waddled into the scene. He glanced up at Kyle and frowned, "Hey there, cheater."

"I didn't cheat, Cartman. I beat you fair and square!"

"Hey that's another thing," wondered Stan; "why did you run off like that yesterday, Kyle?"

"I didn't like the way people were staring at me. It made me feel like I did something stupid."

"You DID do something stupid! You cheated!" accused the fat boy.

"He did not," argued Stan. "You're just jealous."

"All I did was follow Jeff's advice," explained the boy in the green bomber hat. "I just zoned out and followed my gut instincts."

Cartman looked truly appalled. "You takin' advice from the Chef-wannabe now??"

"Well, he is the new school chef."

"And it was pretty good advice," nodded Stan with a shrug.

"Puh! I can't believe I'm hearin' this from you gahs. De real Chef's not even cold in the ground and yer already listening to the poser!"

"It's not like that, fatass," replied Kyle angrily.

The fat boy turned away from them in disgust. "Whatever. Yesterday was just a fluke anyway; there's no way you're still better than m-… Wha??" His attention quickly turned to the sound of giggling young girls drawing near. All four boys turned to the left, and sure enough a group of their peers- all female- were headed their way!

"…Look, there he is!" cheered Bebe, the ring leader of the group. They all squealed anxiously as they quickened their pace toward the bewildered boys. "Woah-ho-ho! Ain't this a sweet surprise," smiled Cartman smugly. "Hello, ladies…" But to his dismay, they walked right past him.

In fact, they walked past Stan and Kenny too, and all at once poor Kyle was surrounded by girls. "Hey, Kyle." "Hi, Kyle!" "Hey there, Kyle!" "Is this where you wait for the bus?" "You mind if we wait here with you?"

"Uh…uh…" Kyle looked absolutely lost, and even tried to squirm back to the boys, to no avail.

"WHAT!? AW, COME ON!" roared Cartman.

"Those were some sweet moves you pulled off yesterday in the playground," swooned young Bebe. Heidi was quick to add, "Yeah. I never knew you had it in you."

"Uh… M-me neither," blushed Kyle.

"Aww, he's so modest!" cooed the red-headed Rebecca.

"Show me that head-stand again," beckoned Sally, the other red-head. "Yeah, yeah! Do it again" the others echoed.

Kyle started to sweat nervously. "I-uh-I don't remember what I did. Honest. It was a… a…"

"A fluke!!" growled Cartman nearby. "He's a god-damned James Brown rip-off!"

Kyle was about to lose his breath, when suddenly the yellow school bus arrived. "Ugh, finally!" he sighed, feeling saved. But of course he was followed by his new admirers, while his friends were the last to jump on.

Kyle soon learned that he was no safer on the bus than he was at the bus stop; his five admirers crowded him, either on the seat he cornered himself on or the seats beside or behind it.

In the far back of the bus sat Cartman, Kenny and Stan, still bewildered of this sudden change of atmosphere.

"…Uh… You girls do know he only has half a dick, right!?" blurted out a jealous Cartman. "…Hello-o-o!?"

"Dude, let it go," said a contented Stan to his fat friend. "You're just jealous 'cause he's popular now."

"Pfff," huffed Cartman. "This is some kind of sick conspiracy, Stan. He probably bribed those girls with his mountain of money back home."

"He'ff bot a mou'in of munny?" muffled Kenny in a lone seat nearby.

"No Kenny, Cartman's just being a whiny little bitch," replied Stan. "Face it, fatass, girls like a guy who can really bust a move."

Little did the boys know that Kyle, who should have been feeling like the luckiest guy in the world, was squirming fearfully in his seat while the girls stared at him like he was God. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest as he started to sweat bullets. He couldn't breathe throughout the bus ride.

*

South Park Elementary; "R-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ing!" Went the school bell.

The class was quick to take their seats and fall silent as Stan and Kyle resumed their class presidency, complete with their mini-podium. Mr. Garrison sat at his desk nearby to observe.

Stan gently rapped his gavel on his podium to start his speech. "Okay, you all had three days to put in your new votes for the spring dance, and we have the results right here in this little brown box. My Vice-President, Kyle Broflovski, will read the suggestions allowed while I write them on the chalkboard. Okay dude, read 'em out to me." Stan then jumped down from his podium and took chalk to the blackboard.

Kyle, still looking uncomfortable, took hold of the suggestion box and opened it. "Okay… The first suggestion is: Pirate/Ninja love affair." Both he and Stan gave Craig a look, knowing he was the culprit. "That's gay, Craig."

"Not if you look outside the box," smiled the blue-capped boy.

"Okay," signed Kyle as he grabbed the next small piece of paper from the box. "Next suggestion is… Celebrity Couples."

Wendy gleamed with delight as Stan wrote down her suggestion on the board.

Kyle grabbed the next paper. "Next we have… Kyle and Bebe 4ever?" He glanced up at Bebe with wide eyes, and she winked back at him. "…Uh… Whatever." He picked up the next one. "This one says… Kyle for Class President?"

"Dude!" barked Stan, looking betrayed.

"It's what the paper says, not me!" said Kyle defensively.

"Skip that one."

"Right… Next we have 1970s Disco. Okay, that one's reasonable… Next one: Kyle, will you marry me? …What the hell!"

Stan glanced back at him with concern. "Are these what people really want for their dance theme?"

"Hold up, hold up." Kyle then grabbed several pieces of paper at once to make sure he wasn't hallucinating and read them aloud: "Kyle is the sweetest dancer- Kyle is great- Kyle is my new Justin…" The next one was a very inappropriate stick figure sketch of Kyle and Heidi. Enraged, he threw down the paper pieces. "Aw, come on girls!! This is a serious debate!"

"You got that right," agreed Lola. "We should have a debate over which one of us should go to the dance with Kyle!"

"I should!" "No, me!" "Kyle looked at me first!" "Me!" ME!" All of the young girls except for Wendy had exploded in a frenzy of hollers while the boys (and Wendy) helplessly looked on.

"Gotta love Democracy," muttered Mr. Garrison as he mused at the sudden outburst.

"Girls!? GIRLS! STOP IT!" screamed Kyle as he slammed the gavel on his podium, but none of them paid attention as the girls started to climb out of their seats and tackled each other.

"Holy sh*t, dude!" gasped Stan as he dropped his piece of chalk.

Bebe was quick to run to the front of the room and yell, "Alright, quiet! QUIET!! I can settle this once and for all!" Her peers calmed down just for that one fleeting moment. "Now I was the first girl to kiss Kyle, so clearly I'm the most eligible to be his date."

"When the hell did you ever kiss him?" asked a furious Heidi.

"Way back in third grade," smiled Bebe triumphantly.

"You dared me to kiss you. I had no choice, so that doesn't count!" argued Kyle desperately.

"Well I liked him way back in pre-school," claimed Rebecca in the back.

"I liked him since he was born!" stated Lola.

"Oh my God, what has gotten into you girls!?" asked a horrified Wendy.

"You stay out of this, Wendy! Kyle is MY date to the dance," warned Bebe.

"No, he's MINE! I saw him FIRST, bitch!" growled Sally, as she charged for the blonde. As the red-head punched Bebe square in the face, the Kyle-obsessers resumed their throw-down. Chairs were thrown and boys went running. Even Kyle took flight, but he was only one of two to actually run out of the room. He was followed by Stan.

*

Kyle stopped in the middle of the hallway with a heavy chest and leaned on a locker to catch his breath. He then grabbed ahold of his heart, which was pounding uncontrollably.

"Dude… Dude! Are you okay?" panted Stan as he caught up with his best buddy.

"Lea'me alone," said Kyle weakly. "I… I don't wanna go back there…"

"Dude, we're the class presidents. We gotta take control or Mr. Garrison will have a fit."

Kyle rolled onto his leaning back. "You're the class president. You take care of those girls."

"Yeah, but… technically, they're your girls, dude."

"No… No, I don't want this… I never wanted this…" Kyle lowered his head as if ashamed of himself. He looked so tired he could faint.

Stan could sense that something was amiss with Kyle's insecurity. "…Dude, what's wrong?"

"…I have to tell you something, Stan. I… I knew how to dance for a while now. That whole rhythm thing hasn't happened since the third grade."

"…So, you knew you were gonna beat Cartman? You set him up for that dance-off?"

"He set himself up. He wanted to humiliate me, and I just couldn't let him. …I had no idea the girls would react like this."

"But this is a good thing, Kyle! Now you can have a date for the dance and-"

"NO!" jumped Kyle suddenly. "No, I don't want a date! I don't want a girlfriend, not again! Not after…" He stopped himself by cupping his mouth, as if finishing the sentence would kill him.

Stan was still confused. "…Dude, what is going on with you? Why don't you wanna be popular?"

"This isn't about being popular, Stan. I just can't deal with girls anymore. They're crazy, they're slutty, and they scare the sh*t outta me. If that's what I gotta put up with at the spring dance, then I'm not going."

"Dude!" frowned Stan in utter disappointment. "You have to go, everybody's gonna be disappointed. And Cartman! He's gonna rip on you if you don't go; he'll call you a coward!"

Kyle's eyes drooped in sorrow. "…That's a risk I'm willing to take. I'd rather get ripped on by Fatass than get hurt by another girl."

"…Another girl?"

Kyle started to walk off with his head hung. "Tell Mr. Garrison that I'm feeling sick and had to go home early. We'll talk later at home."

"Dude, wait," Stan pleaded.

"Just forget it, Stan! My mind's made up. I'll see you later."

Stan watched Kyle walk off, both shocked and distraught. It was only then, after what felt like years of ignorance, that he realized just how emotionally scarred his best friend really was.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Bang-bang-bang! Goes the gavel, just when you thought it was all over!

Says Stan from his classroom podium, "Attention, everybody! After a LOT of deliberating from the class, we've finally come up with five Themes for our spring formal dance. Here they are in no particular order:

PIRATE/NINJA LOVE AFFAIR

CELEBRITY COUPLES

I LOVE DISCO

SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE (Couples dressed as Shakespearean characters)

FAIRY TALE COUPLES

"You the viewer," says Stan with a smile, "have the power to choose which of these themes will be featured in the third act of our story! All you gotta do is place your vote in your Review, or go to the poll at Snodin's main page. Let YOUR voice be heard in our first-ever interactive fanfic! Remember, you have until Act III to submit your vote, which will probably be posted in one week from now. Until then, friends, we're adjourned!"

Gavel: BANG!