Authors Note: So, this is my first South Park story, let alone the first story I've yet to post on FF. I've had the idea for this story for awhile now and I finally had to post it. Now because this is my first story, and I'm highly critical of my writing, let me just let you in on some info:
-This fic may or may not have slash (boyxboy) in it. It probably will, but you'll have to be patient if that's what you like. I don't even know how this thing will end, it's all sort of going to unwind as I go along. So, that being said, I hope you stick it out and can bear with me.
Disclaimer: Stan Marsh and South Park belong to Matt Stone & Trey Parker. Of course!

Prologue

I can't say I grew up in a nurturing or even healthy environment, because let's face it, that would be a lie. I didn't come from a big city filled with vagabonds and demented child-stars like I reside in now though. I came from a small town in Colorado filled with hicks and a bunch of racist asses. That goes for the adults anyway; I don't remember us kids like that at all. In fact we were mostly tolerant of each other, mostly. We were thrown together a lot, and we didn't complain. It was with them, my friends, that I had learned the most about life. Though, now, I've done a real good job of forgetting about the town and those delirious pot heads within it. It hasn't mattered to me since I left that place in my sophomore year of college. I did everything I could do to repent my memories of that tiny speck on our nations map, and after awhile it worked. I'm happy now with the way my life turned out. I live just a couple miles north of Hollywood and I have everything I could possibly want. The car. The condo. The plasma tv. I got the works. South Park and it's snowy days are distant memories.

Well, this is what I thought, but try explaining that to your mom. You can't. I've tried.

------------------------------------------

August 19

"It would mean so much to your sister if you came Stanley; Chris's brother got caught up with something so he told me to tell you that the position of best man is up for grabs."

I smirked. "Oh yeah, Shelley will love that. Mom I never even met this Chris guy and what is this, Shelley's third marriage?"

I could hear my mom's sigh, but this didn't make me waver. I went to Shelley's first wedding a few years ago in Vegas, and the second one in Denver. How would this one be any different? In a year Shelley will have another kid and in two years I'll be getting a call from my Xanax popping mother about how "insert name here" moved out and Shelley's a wreck.

"Fourth."

"Excuse me?" I asked with detached interest. For a moment I thought she swore at me.

"It's her fourth wedding. You missed last year when her and TJ got back together at the court house…I really thought that was going to last. He had made so much progress after that drug bust last February."

Yeah Shelley, he was definitely a keeper, that TJ. I waited for my mother to continue, but as the wave of silence grew longer and I could still hear the sound of running water and clattering dishes, I sighed. "Mom, I never even met this Chris guy; I never even knew she and TJ broke up! I can't take this next week off to fly to Colorado and see a marriage that won't even last six months."

"Stanley, please. If you had come over for Christmas like me and your father had asked you to, then you would have met Christopher and been all up to date. You chose to stay in the city for some advertising project; your father was so disappointed," Silence. I could hear her swear something under her breath about damned knives but then she began again, "Listen sweetie, I don't want to force you to do anything. If you come I want you to come under the right terms, for Shelley's sake. Besides, I think that her deciding to get married at home shows that this marriage might have good promise. Don't you think so?" Her voice didn't sound too sincere, and her question didn't seem to require a response. To me, it seemed she already had the answer, but the poor woman obviously needed reassurance.

"Sure mom, I think your right…If I can get time off from this project I'll see if I can catch a plane up there; I'm not promising anything. But in all honesty, I don't think Shelley will miss me." There was even less sincerity in my voice then hers. I doubt I would be missed.

"Well alright Stan, but please know how much this will mean to all of us. If you can find the time, please come home. Love you hon."

She hung up, leaving me to think, though not very deeply at first. This conversation changed nothing; I wasn't going down to South Park even if Shelley was marrying Johnny Depp.

I stared at my feet and, after what seemed hours, I finally got up to set the phone back on the kitchen counter. The counter stool looked like a welcoming seat, so I half sat down half fell onto it.
The phone call with my mother had been exhausting. The worst of this was that it of course would not be the last time I hear from her. My inbox would soon be filled with reminder emails, and there would be dozens of messages on my answering machine asking me if I bought a plane ticket yet. She wouldn't give up until after Shelly and whatever-his-name-is said "I do". Well, if that even does happen.

My defensive move against Sharon would be pretty simple actually. All I had to do was ignore every attempt of hers to contact me until well after the date of the wedding, and then I would call her and play it cool. She'd hold a grudge against me at first but then I'll just FedEx her some JLo perfume and she'll forget about it.
Although, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe that wasn't the best approach. Maybe I should just make the trek down to South Park to please my parents... and then they'll leave me be for awhile. Maybe it wouldn't be a big deal. Good idea?

Absolutely not. There was no way in Hell. No. No. No.

With all this major internal conflict I couldn't help smirking at myself and all my ridiculousness. My dislike for my home town seemed irrational, I couldn't expect mom to understand, and I knew that everyone back there thought I was some arrogant asshole who couldn't lower himself to even visit his own family. Maybe I was better than them though. I actually made something of myself, which was more then a lot of them could say. I bet Kenny was a dead beat just like his father by now and...oh man.

Kenny. I shifted my thoughts. I began to feel a lump in my throat; a trip down memory lane was not something I really needed right now. Looking for a diversion I thought back to my mom; I began to consider just ignoring her calls again. I guess that was the best way to go.

As I mulled this over, a menacing hiss rose from beneath my stool suddenly, scaring the shit out of me and causing me to momentarily lose my train of thought. I lowered my gaze to the hardwood floor, where a mass of orange and white fur was collected at my feet. Oh.

"My sister is insane Charlie. Maybe it's not alcohol she should quit, maybe it's just men." I muttered to my overweight tabby cat. He looked up at me and hissed out of boredom again.
Yeah, Charlie hates me. Though he's often my only source of social contact during weekends, when I'm not out with Veronica or Stacy or Jenny my secretary...besides them and a few others I'm pretty much a recluse. I mean I hardly go to those office parties. Anyway, the ironic thing about me talking to Charlie is that he's deaf. I mean if there was a nuclear explosion across the street Charlie couldn't hear it, and never mind that he'd probably be dead. Still, he can always sense when I have something to say, I think. He's good company when he isn't clawing up my face.

I looked down at him in his offensive position, eying me as if he was gonna attack my leg. "I saved you from becoming road kill Charles, the least you can do is show some sympathy toward me. You never knew your family, you're lucky y'know." I sighed.

No response.

I watched as he got up and walked away, obviously not hearing a word I said. Stupid deaf cat.

I ran a hand through my hair (It felt greasy, I probably looked like shit) and decided to push this topic aside for now. I already spent too much time worrying about my mom and sister and...South Park. These weren't my problems; now a bunch of sleazy fast food reps who've been badgering me for a pitch for their new campaigndesign were my problem.