This was it. Today was the day. The day everyone had been waiting for. Well…not everyone, per se. Just a lot of people. Well, actually, only four people.
Unless you don't count Cartman, since he didn't give a rats ass about the day because it wasn't his own, and was only tagging along in the hope of getting something out of it.
So, three people.
Unless you don't count Kenny, either, since he wouldn't have even come if he had the choice, even though he was happy for the day. But he did have the choice, technically. His parents were just too drunk to help him with it. And everyone knows you don't let Kenny make his own decisions because he'll just end up at the nearest strip club. Honestly, the only reason he had come was in the high hopes that they'd go somewhere where a hormonal teenage boy could be satisfied quickly, easily, and for a discounted price.
Kyle's ten minute speech on the importance of friendship helped, too.
Barely.
So, only two people cared.
But we'll make it easier on ourselves and say that all four of them did, although half of them would state otherwise.
So their decisions, or, in Kenny's case, lack thereof, brought the boys together in perfect harmony in the Marsh's front room. Or, it would have been perfect had Kyle and Cartman not been fighting over how giving someone money was a cheap excuse for a gift that everyone gave each year, with the exception of Jews, like Kyle, who never want to part with the precious Jew Gold kept around their necks in a small, burlap bag. Cartman defended his case by calling Kyle a greedy Jew rat with sand up his vagina, which brought on another argument about how Kyle did not, I repeat, did not have sand up his vagina. He defended his case by calling Cartman's mom a crack whore hermaphrodite, and Cartman honored his mother/father/thingy by screaming screw you at the redhead and threatening to "go home" (which no one would have minded), but instead stood on the other side of Kenny while mumbling insults under his breath and glancing angrily at Kyle, who replied with just as much fury, if not more.
Stan sighed. Every year, this is how it went. Every year he told himself that it would be better. He would change something. He would only invite Kyle and Kenny, who actually cared (kind of) about the event. He would leave Cartman behind (which he was seriously contemplating now) and everything would go as planned.
"You alright, dude?" Kyle asked his friend (super best friend, at that) while watching out of the corner of his eye as Cartman flipped him off.
Stan smiled. "Yeah. Fine. I just can't believe it's actually my birthday."
"It happens every year, so get used to it."
"I know. It's just weird, you know?"
Kyle nodded, even though he didn't know. "Yeah. Hey you're seventeen, dude. One more year till you get to be a legal adult. Freedom!"
Stan laughed. "Pssh! Yeah right, dude. At this rate my mom is just gonna give me more responsibilities." He shook his head. "I'm shocked she's letting us go out on our own, tonight."
Kyle shrugged. "I guess. They shouldn't be worried, though, since we've been going out on our own since the fourth grade. Remember when we went to the North Pole and Washington D.C. and no one ever bothered to look for us?"
Stan nodded. "Except when my mom hunted me down at Cartman's Grandma's house, just to yell at me with a megaphone."
"Psshah, yeah," Cartman interrupted, with absolutely no clue what the conversation was about because he didn't listen to Jews or hippies. He was only aware that his name had been mentioned.
Kyle rolled his eyes as Kenny complained through his parka that Stan's living room was, "Motherfucking colder than the Arctic, and I'm suffering more than when I had tried to kill myself by hiding in the freezer."
"Quit your complaining, Kenny," Kyle scolded. He looked over at Stan. "How much longer until your parents get home? You know I how much I dislike driving at night."
"Who said you were driving? It's my birthday."
"Exactly. You're the birthday boy. You deserve to get a little drunk off of some spiked punch."
Cartman's eyes lit up. "There's gonna be punch?"
"With booze?" Kenny asked, hopefully.
"I don't know how much longer they'll be," Stan replied, ignoring the recent shout-outs from the others.
Just then, as if on cue, his dad walked through the door, carrying a toaster-blender-shaver-in-one in his arms like it was a baby that had saved his life. And if that wasn't weird enough, he was whispering sweet nothings to it, while stroking the platinum colored sides.
"Jeez mom. It took you guys an hour to buy that!?" Stan pouted.
His mom sighed. "No. It took us twenty minutes to do that. The rest of the time was spent on the porch while your father waited for the perfect opportunity to come inside."
"Can I have the keys?" he asked.
"Patience Stanley. Here you go." She handed him a set of cars keys, with a spare, just in case.
"Thanks! Bye!" He grabbed Kyle's arm and pulled him along outside as Cartman and Kenny followed slowly behind.
He heard his mom shout something about safe homes coming in two's. (Actually she said to be safe and be home by two, but even if Stan had heard her, he wouldn't have followed the orders.)
"Where are you Jews taking us?" Cartman asked from the backseat after everyone had gotten into the beat up, red Comet.
Kyle whipped his head around, while keeping his hands on the steering wheel.
"Did you just call me 'Jews'? As in 'more than one'?" he asked.
Cartman rolled his eyes. "No, hippie. I called—"
"Hippie?" Stan asked, raising his eyebrow.
"No!" Cartman shouted. "If you two faggots would let me explain." He paused and when no one said anything he continued. "I was referring to both of you. Stan, you hang out with Kahl all the time, so some of his Jewishness has rubbed off on you. You are now a half hippie half Jew. The same goes for you, Kahl. You hang out with hippie Stan all the time, which makes you a half Jew half hippie. And I find that worse than you being a full on Jew or Stan being a full on hippie."
"Of course," Stan said sarcastically.
"That doesn't even make sense, fatass!" Kyle cried.
"Makes sense to me," was Kenny's mumbled reply.
"See guys? Now drive, Jew!"
"Fuck you fatass," Kyle muttered as he started the car.
After about ten minutes of driving, hundreds of 'Jew, get your goddamn Jewfro out of the way. Jew,' from Cartman, and hundreds of 'Why do you even need to see out of the front window fatass?' from Kyle, and a few mutterings from Stan about how he should've stayed home and Kenny asking if 'we're there yet?' every other sentence, Stan noticed Kyle looked a little confused.
"You lost or something, dude?"
Kyle shook his head. "Huh-uh. I'm just thinking. I have this feeling that someone important in our lives told us something about something."
"Yes, Kahl. Your doctor. He told you to get the sand out of your vagina," Cartman said helpfully.
Kyle smacked the steering wheel. "I don't have sand in my vagina!"
Cartman turned to Kenny. "I think he's in denial, Kennay."
"No," Kenny replied. "I think you are. You're so far in denial that you have a closet in a closet."
"What the fuck, dude?" Stan asked.
"I got it!" Kyle shouted, earning a small squeak of surprise from Stan. "It was Chef! Chef told us the best time would be seventeen!"
"Seventeen?" Cartman asked.
"Yeah, remember? He said the best time to have sex for the first time is seventeen!"
"Oh yeah!" Stan said, remembering what the man had said years ago.
"Does that mean Stan's gonna get laid!?" Kenny asked hopefully.
Everyone turned to look at the raven haired teenager.
"What? I never said I haven't been laid."
This got a burst of laughter from everyone.
"Stan. Wendy wouldn't be very happy if she knew you had been with someone else," Kyle said slowly.
"I was with Wendy!"
"Apparently, you're in denial, too Stan," Cartman noted.
"Dammit fatass! I lost it to her!"
"Wow," Kyle snickered. "The way you said that made it seem like she topped, or something."
Kenny laughed. "I wouldn't be surprised."
This got a round of giggles (yes, giggles) from the boys and an evil glare from Stan.
"You've never gotten that far, Kenny!" Stan shouted angrily.
Kenny raised both eyebrows. "Wanna bet?"
"Never mind. Bad example. I bet you haven't, Cartman."
He snorted. "I bet I've gotten further with Wendy than you ever have in your dreams."
"What!?"
"Remember, hippie Jew, when Wendy made love to my mouth in grade school?"
"What the hell, dude!? I was trying to forget about that! Why did you have to bring that up!?"
"Just trying to prove my point."
Kyle shook his head. "You haven't actually proved anything, fatass."
"Yeah huh!" Cartman replied stubbornly. "I proved that if given the choice, the ho-bitch named Wendy would rather go after my hot, muscular bod, than Stan's weakling figure."
"Goddammit." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he'd had since before the incident with Cartman and Wendy in the auditorium.
"Stan?" Kyle asked turning to face the boy.
"Yeah?"
"Honestly, have you ever actually kissed Wendy? Tell me the truth."
He muttered something.
"I can't hear you!" Kyle sang.
"I said, 'No'," Stan grumbled. "But I bet you haven't either!"
"No, Stan. I have not gotten that far with Wendy. I have, however, kissed Rebecca."
"And now she's a whore," Cartman said. "Are you proud, Jew?"
"Actually, yeah. If I have that much power over the ladies, turning them into whores and making them fantasize about my luscious ass, just to get my attention, then yep. I'm quite proud of my work on society."
"How was it?" Stan asked meekly.
"Eh." Kyle shrugged. "Sucky, to tell you the truth. It lasted barely a couple seconds and I got some of her spit in my mouth."
"Sexy," Kenny commented.
"Dude! Nasty! Is that really what it's like, kissing a girl?" Stan asked the redhead.
"Yeah, dude. That's what it's like."
"Gross," Stan shivered. "That's just wrong. Why would anyone want to do that?"
"Because it's hot, Stan," Kenny explained.
"It's sick, is what it is," Stan told him. "Do girls like that?"
Kenny nodded. "Yeah. Usually, they do."
"Damn. Girls suck," Kyle thought aloud.
"Yes. They sure as hell do," Stan agreed. "Can we talk about something else, now?"
Cartman's eyes brightened more than when he had heard there would be punch. "How about how Kahl has sand up his vagina that he needs to get out?"
The car screeched to a stop and Kyle unlocked Cartman's door.
"What the fucking hell are you doing Jew?" he asked, puzzled.
"Get out," Kyle replied calmly. "Open that door, walk out of the car, and close it."
"What!? No," Cartman argued.
"Yes. There is a donut shop about a block back and I want you to go and get us some for Stan's birthday."
Cartman shot out of the car and run back where they had come from like a bitch in heat.
"Damn. That fatboy sure can waddle like he invented the word," Kenny pointed out.
Kyle tilted his head. "Did I not mention that there's a porn shop by the bakery?"
And Kenny was gone, running after Cartman and catching up quickly.
"Damn. I didn't think that would work," Kyle said, slightly shocked.
Stan frowned. "Do you really think that Cartman is going to share with us?"
Kyle laughed. "Do you really think there's a bakery?"
"Oh. Oh!" Stan said as the realization hit him. "Niiice. And the porn shop?"
"Doubt it."
"Niiice," he said again. "Thank you Kyle. You are the best super best friend a guy could ever hope to have."
"You really are in denial, aren't you, Stan?" Kyle questioned.
"So are you," Stan replied.
"We can be in denial together."
"Dude. Gay," Stan said to the Jewish boy.
"Gayer than Cartman," Kyle said happily.
And the two boys, who actually cared about the day, drove off. They didn't make scene any gayer, though, by going towards the sunset. That would be stupid, considering that the sun set over the buildings, and they'd have to turn around and crash to get to it, which would be pointless because then they'd be dead, and wouldn't be able to see the sunset anymore.
So Kyle continued down the road and muttered that he was never going to be able to get Cartman acting gay out of his mind.
Stan smiled. Not because he was having a great birthday. He wasn't. But because he was spending it with Kyle.
Yeah, he thought. Definitely in denial.