[Disclaimer: I am neither the creator nor the owner of South Park. Those distinctions are held by the ineffable partnership of Trey Parker & Matt Stone.]

A/N: I'm so excited to start posting a brand new story, "The Bachelor Party"! For those of you looking for a darker story than "The Letter," don't worry—this story will get pretty damn dark... And that's all I'll say about that.

I'm going to try to upload a chapter each week, but in case my busy schedule makes uploads more erratic, make sure you follow the story to be alerted of new chapters. Although I have some general plot points and first few chapters planned out, I would love for this to be an interactive experience. To that end, please comment below if there's anything you would like to see in the story (such as "I want to see a chapter from Cartman's point-of-view!" or "Put in a scene with Craig and Tweek making out!"). Of course, other miscellaneous comments and constructive feedback is always appreciated :)

Enjoy!

Craig Tucker hated smoking. Really hated it. He wasn't principled enough to march in the streets protesting Big Tobacco, but when he would walk down the street and pass by some asshole lighting up and blowing smoke in his face, he couldn't stop himself from glaring at the offender until they felt so uncomfortable that they moved over their disgusting, cancer-prone bodies on the sidewalk to allow him greater berth.

That being said, Craig was addicted to smoking. Really addicted. And that's why he hated it so much.

He tossed his cigarette to the pavement and stamped out the flicker of light with his boot. "Fuck you, Kenny." The phrase had become a mantra of sorts, something he always muttered after finishing his daily ritual of smoking a cigarette or two during his break. He tried not to indulge in more than two, and this had been his second cigarette. That meant it was time to go back inside.

As if on cue, the metal door separating his alley sanctuary from the inside of True-Value Hardware swung open, and out popped the Manager. "There you are! What did I say about taking extended breaks?" The Manager gestured around the alley. "I swear to God, Craig, if you don't start doing your job when we pay you to do it, you'll be living in this piss-covered place before you know it."

Craig shoved both fists into the pockets of his windbreaker and followed the Manager back inside the building. He knew better than to argue with the guy. This was a crappy job, but it was a job nonetheless. And if Craig wanted to keep financing his smoking habit, he needed some source of income. No matter how fucking tragic it was.

"Could you walk any slower?" the Manager barked at him. Craig gritted his teeth and accelerated his pace just enough to appease his corporate overlord. He followed the Manager into the stock room, where a blonde guy with his back turned to door was struggling to pull a True-Value vest employee vest over his lanky frame.

Shit, Craig thought. Not another newbie. He hated change. He especially hated change when it came in the form of dealing with a new employee, who Craig, as the most senior low-level staff member at the store, would undoubtedly have to spend several hours training. It was always a pain, since True-Value usually hired high schoolers, as they once had with Craig, and high schoolers were as dumb as doornails. As soon as he saw the back of this new guy's head, he braced himself for an afternoon of suffering.

"Craig," the Manager started, in that sickly-sweet tone of his, "I want you to welcome the newest member of the True-Value family…" The new guy turned around. Craig flinched. Double shit. "…Lenny McCormick."

The new guy blinked. "Seriously? Lenny?" He hadn't cast a glance in Craig's direction yet—and Craig was grateful for that.

"Whoops, my sincere apologies." The Manager scribbled something on his clipboard. "I can see here that it's actually Kenny. Okay, Kenny, Craig here is gonna get you up to speed, and hopefully we'll have you out on the shop floor by the end of the day." The Manager exited the room, but not before shooting Craig a perfunctory smile that communicated something along the lines of 'time to do your fucking job, slacker.'

That left Craig alone with Kenny. Craig wasn't crazy about that.

Kenny reached up and scratched the back of his head. "Hey, man. Long time no see."

Craig nodded. "Hey." What else was there to say? He hadn't seen the guy since high school. Well, that wasn't exactly true; South Park was such a small town, and neither of them had left for college. In fact, he saw Kenny everywhere: ambling on the street, napping in the back row of seats at the Bijou, tossing darts at Skeeter's. But he hadn't talked to Kenny since high school, which was, what, five years ago?

Damn, I'm old, Craig thought. Not old enough to be nostalgic about Kenny, though, or about anything else that happened at that godforsaken school.

Maybe I'm some sort of fucking wizard, he wondered. I speaketh Kenny's name and he appeareth.

"So, how have you been?"

Craig snapped out of his thoughts quick enough to answer Kenny's question. "Uh, fine. You?"

"Got a job now, so I guess it could be worse." Kenny's mouth curved into an almost-smile.

After a few unbearable seconds of awkward silence, Craig walked over to a shelving unit. "I guess we should get started with the training." Without waiting for a response, he dove into a rapid-fire list of all the items on the shelves and where they belonged. Engaging in such a mechanical activity numbed his mind and prevented bad memories from bubbling to the surface, something they had been doing a lot lately. And seeing Kenny… Well, that would probably open the floodgates. Craig wasn't a particularly spiritual person, but he felt like Kenny's entrance into his daily life had to be some kind of omen. Whether it was going to be bad or good for Craig was still to be determined.

After half an hour of outlining every stock room-related task that Kenny would need to perform, Craig paused to look at him. He looked back at Craig with a slightly-more-happy-than-neutral expression. Kenny wasn't jaded yet—that was the problem. Wait until he's worked here for another few fucking days. Then we'll see how he looks.

"That's enough work for now," Craig said, stretching. He beckoned Kenny over to the door of the stockroom. "Let's take a breather."

"Seriously?" Kenny looked confused. "Are we allowed to?"

Craig waved his hand dismissively and started walking down the hallway. "Yeah, it's fine, trust me. The Manager won't even notice we're gone. Every day, between two and two-thirty, he hides in his office and won't come out for anything. He'll have no idea we're gone."

"Alright," Kenny said, amused. "I'll take your word for it."

Soon Craig was back in the alley. He pulled out his cigarettes instinctively and started lighting one before he remembered Kenny. "Sorry," he said. "Force of habit." He stuck a cigarette in Kenny's direction.

To Craig's surprise, Kenny shook his head. "I'm good. I don't do that shit anymore." Craig's expression soured, but he didn't say anything. He just lit up and enjoyed inhaling his daily cocktail of a hundred toxic chemicals. Kenny watched Craig curiously. It made Craig's skin crawl. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you keep referring to Cartman as 'the Manager'? I mean, I know who he is. You can just say his name."

A short laugh burst forth from Craig's lips, one full of dry pity and self-deprecation. "I guess I'm still in denial that Cartman has the authority to boss me around. It's like the wrestling team all over again."

"Shit," Kenny remarked, "I always forget that you guys were co-captains. The one time Cartman ever exerted his fat ass."

"Yeah. It was a nightmare." Craig flicked ash onto the ground. "He was always acting like he ran the whole thing and I was his assistant or something. He treated the whole team like dirt."

Kenny lifted one eyebrow. "Oh, and you didn't?"

Craig's eyebrow raised to match Kenny's. "Huh?"

"Come on, dude. You were the biggest bully in school."

Well fuck you too. Craig instinctively raised his middle finger, which, thankfully, along with the rest of his hand, was concealed in his pocket. "We're talking about Cartman, and you're calling me a bully?"

"Yeah," Kenny said, but it came out a little more hesitantly than Craig was expecting, as if he could sense Craig's heart pounding in his chest. "Sure, Cartman terrorized some people, like Kyle and Butters, but mostly he just picked on his friends. He never touched the goth kids or the ugly kids. You, on the other hand, bullied practically every kid in school at least once."

Wow, what a smart motherfucker. Craig cocked his head and stared off into the distance like he was thinking about all this for the first time. "That explains why I don't have friends, huh?"

That was rhetorical. Craig knew why he didn't have friends. He didn't need fucking Kenny McCormick to psychoanalyze him.

"Are you saying that the Manager isn't your friend?" Kenny asked with a smile.

Craig knew that Kenny was trying to diffuse the situation, and he didn't know whether to take the bait. He decided to humor Kenny. "Yeah, we're best pals," Craig said, rolling his eyes. "Didn't he tell you? I'm taking your place soon."

Kenny snorted. "I'm not friends with Cartman."

"What?" Craig was genuinely taken aback. There were very few things that surprised Craig Tucker; he had learned to expect that life would take a shit on you on a regular basis, so at an early age he had steeled himself for anything. But this… This was just bizarre. "You're not friends with Cartman anymore?"

"No way." Kenny kicked the wall with the toe of his tattered sneaker. "Not since senior year, when I realized they were assholes, all of them: Cartman, Kyle…and obviously Stan. Self-absorbed pricks. With all the shit going on in my life, I didn't need the negativity, y'know? So I just kind of…faded out of their lives. Beats me if they even noticed."

"Probably not. Hell, I didn't notice." Craig inhaled and blew out a ring of smoke. "Took you long enough to realize they're assholes."

"What, did you hate them, too?"

"Why do you think I never hung out with you guys? You were a fucking clique, like some sort of Mean Girls shit. It made me sick." He noticed Kenny staring at the ground. "You weren't that bad, though."

"Oh wow," Kenny said in mock surprise. "Thanks for the validation."

"Don't mention it. And for the record, I didn't hate anybody. It was more like…disgust. Except for Cartman. That was hate. And still is."

Kenny folded his arms. "How is he already the manager of this place? Didn't he graduate college, like, a year ago?"

"Not even," Craig said bitterly. "The way I see it, karma's a bitch, only because it doesn't seem to fucking work on Eric Cartman."

"Do you know why he even came back to South Park? Considering that practically everyone else got out of here as soon as we left school."

"Heidi," Craig uttered matter-of-factly. "She wanted to be near her parents or something."

Kenny visibly recoiled at the news. "Are you kidding me?"

"Nope."

"Heidi is still with Cartman?"

"Yup."

"I can't believe this," Kenny mumbled. "After all these years of him using her…"

"I don't know," Craig said with a shrug. "I've seen them sometimes when she comes into the store. It seems like she's using him. She asks him to do stuff, and he actually fucking does it." He took another drag from his cigarette. "Maybe she has a great pussy."

Kenny parted his lips as if he were about to say something, but then hastily closed them. Instead, he just shook his head. "I know Cartmen's using her. It's…complicated."

Craig didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say a goddamn thing. The two of them stood there quietly for a minute, the silence hanging heavy around them in the damp spring air. Craig watched Kenny fish around in the pocket of his too-big jeans, pull out his phone, and frown.

"Huh. Missed call. Do you know this number?"

Kenny passed the phone to Craig. Craig didn't know it. "I don't remember phone numbers. Let me look it up in my contacts." Craig pulled out his own phone. He had a missed call, as well, and from the same number. He showed his screen to Kenny. "Coincidence?"

Kenny shrugged. "Any chance it's Cartman fucking with us?"

"No. It isn't two-thirty yet, and like I said, whenever he's doing whatever it is he does in there, he doesn't talk to anyone."

Kenny looked at Craig and then pressed his forefinger onto his own phone. "I'm calling back. Speakerphone." He held up his phone and Craig shuffled closer.

The phone only rang a couple times before the person on the other end of the line picked up. "Hey, Kenny! Thanks for calling me back."

Kenny scrunched up his face. "Kyle?"

Craig grimaced. He had to deal with Cartman, Kenny, and Kyle, all in one day. If Stan suddenly parachuted into the alley, Craig wouldn't have been surprised whatsoever.

"Yeah, hi!" Kyle greeted through the phone. "What's up, dude? How are you doing?"

Kenny turned to Craig and mouthed "What the hell?" "Um, I'm good. Craig's here, too."

"Oh." Kyle sounded confused. "That's…convenient. Hey, Craig."

"Hey," Craig muttered.

"So, guys," Kyle said slowly, "I'm sure you're wondering why I called you. I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but I want to invite you to a really important event."

Craig snickered. As Kyle was talking, Kenny mimed Kyle's words, even acting out his pretentious-ass mannerisms. Kenny could be one entertaining motherfucker; that was one good thing about him.

Kyle continued. "I don't know if you've heard, but Stan is getting married." He paused, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. Craig shot a look at Kenny, whose face betrayed no emotions. Craig wasn't fooled.

"Same girl?" Craig asked.

"Yeah," Kyle confirmed. "Same girl."

Craig nudged Kenny. "Wow-that's-great," Kenny blurted out. "Good for them." Craig half-expected Kenny to accompany this statement with an eye roll or a gagging motion, but Kenny remained stone-faced.

If Kyle picked up on the sarcasm, he didn't show it. "Well, as Stan's best man, I'm in charge of throwing his bachelor party in a few weeks. I noticed recently that Stan likes talking about the old gang, and how much fun we used to have, so I thought I'd surprise him by bringing everyone together for the bachelor party, just like old times!"

"Not to burst your bubble," Craig spoke up, "but I wasn't exactly part of your 'gang.'"

"Dude, I mean everyone," Kyle explained. "All the guys we used to hang out with."

"Who's coming?" Kenny asked.

"So far, we've got Butters—"

"You're inviting Butters?" Kenny stifled a laugh. "To a bachelor party? Isn't that a little too…inappropriate for him?"

"Yeah, know. What can I say? Stan is being more sentimental than usual, even for Stan. He keeps bringing up funny stuff Butters used to do. I think he'd get a kick out of Butters being at the party. I just need to make sure poor Butters doesn't get corrupted by all you guys, especially Clyde."

"Clyde's coming?" Craig asked, praying internally that he had misheard. Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Butters? Them he could deal with. But who in their right mind—besides blond coeds with empty heads and perky tits—would willingly spend time with Clyde Donovan?

"Yeah, he'll be there. Jimmy can't make it, but Token and Tweek are coming, too."

Craig's heart leapt into his throat. One of those names was just a little bit more anxiety-inducing than the other. It was actually a lot more anxiety-inducing. After all these years, he really didn't need this shit. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be able to make it."

Kyle paused. "I thought you might say that. What if I told you that the whole weekend is all-expenses-paid?"

Craig and Kenny exchanged looks of interest. "All-expenses-paid?" Kenny repeated slowly.

"Two nights in Vegas at a nice hotel, plus dinners and drinks, and other activities."

Kenny's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Craig was more cautious. "Okay," Craig said, "so how are we supposed to get to Vegas?"

"If you're still in South Park, you can fly out of Denver. Frontier Airlines has forty-nine-dollar round trip tickets."

Kenny whistled. "Wow, Kyle. You did your homework. I'm impressed."

"Where are you guys getting the cash to cover all this?" Craig asked tersely.

"Stan's grandpa finally passed," Kyle replied, "and left Stan a bunch of money. Stan's using a lot of it for the wedding. It means so much to him."

Craig closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself spending an entire weekend with those losers. Would it really be worse than lounging around his house in his underwear for three days, playing outdated Xbox games and waiting for porn videos to buffer over his shitty Wi-Fi? Probably not. Plus, he could always sneak out of the hotel and hang out by himself if he got tired of everyone's bullshit.

But the most enticing thing about going to Stan's bachelor party was that he could spend a shit of money that not only didn't belong to him, but, more specifically, belonged to a douchebag. The thought of ordering fancy steaks and unlimited alcohol on Stan's dime sounded just fine to Craig. "You said this thing is in a few weeks?"

"Mm-hmm," Kyle responded. "A month from tomorrow. Friday through Sunday."

"I'm in."

Kenny's mouth dropped open. "Seriously?" he mouthed.

"Free booze," Craig mouthed back.

Kenny smirked. "What the hell. I'm in, too."

"Awesome!" Kyle exclaimed. Craig cringed; he could practically hear Kyle pumping his fist in the air like a dork.

"Wait," Kenny interjected. "You said that Token and Tweek and Clyde are coming, but is there anyone else you haven't talked to yet?"

Kyle sighed. "Are you asking whether Cartman is coming?"

"Pretty much."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that…" Kyle trailed off.

"Let me guess. You want me to ask Cartman about the bachelor party."

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Because you're a pussy."

"I—"

"Because you think I'm still friends with that fatass."

Silence. "You…you're not?"

Kenny exhaled. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Kyle. I'll do it. But only if Stan pays for my plane tickets. And Craig's." Craig whistled. Damn. He liked aggressive Kenny.

More silence. "Alright, you have a deal. Look, I have to go now, but I'll text you guys all the details. And, Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"Try your best to get Cartman to come, alright? As much as I hate that fat asshole, I know Stan would be bummed if he wasn't there."

"I'll try, Kyle."

"Thanks. Talk to you guys later."

After Kyle hung up, Kenny looked at Craig in shock. "Dude, did we just score a free trip to Vegas?"

Craig smiled, a real smile, for the first time in God knew how long. "Ready to fuck shit up?"

"You know it," Kenny said with a chuckle. "But not right now. We should probably get back to work, huh?"

"Wow. You've been here for an hour, and you're already the resident kiss-ass."

"Shut up." Kenny opened the door into the building. "And hurry up. You still need to explain, like, ninety-percent of my duties."

Craig dropped his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. "Fuck you, Kenny," he murmured under his breath.

"Did you say something?"

"No, I'm coming." Shit. Craig needed to work on that. Especially since, for once, it looked like Kenny working here might actually be a good thing. And boy, could Craig use some more good things in his life.