When Stan woke up that morning he felt like acid was gurgling in his stomach, and the backs of his eyes throbbed when he blinked away tears. It felt like he'd been stuck in the same year of school for over a decade. Nothing ever seemed to change for the better. That idea stuck with him and made his shoulders sag as he limped to the bathroom. The door was locked and his sister was hoarsely singing along with Pat Benatar from the shower. Stan said to hell with it for another morning, he didn't need a shower. He kept a spare toothbrush in a drawer by the sink, because while Wendy could buy that he showered less to conserve water, it was a must that he brushed his teeth. Walking downstairs in a jumble he grunted ambivalently at his mother telling him there was fruit and cereal out in the kitchen.
"I told them not to drill out there, and what do you know? We're getting irregular seismic activity now. I told them. I said I told them Sharon, and they should have listened to me," Randy angrily fluffed the newspaper. "Yep, you sure told them," Sharon sighed and Stan hummed while on his way into the kitchen to try and drown out his dad, vigorously brushing his teeth in the sink until his gums burned. "It's serious, Sharon!" Randy blustered like he did every morning over the paper, "South Park has an active volcano and a lot of delicate mineral deposits underground! I'm the geologist here, the expert, and those fat cats didn't give a damn because they don't live here!" Sharon wasn't completely fed up with Randy, just tired like everyone else. Acknowledging her husband she replied, "Yes, you're right. It's really upsetting. The Mayor didn't listen either." She drank her coffee mixed up with Bailey's Irish cream and gossiped, "Probably another backroom deal involved for her. You know she's not from around here." Stan was glad to have left his winter gear by the back door in the kitchen. He threw some fruit into his backpack and dressed over his pajamas, wearing the same tired winter outfit because it was the one of the few warm and familiar things he had in life. He was bounding outside and slamming the back door before his mom could ask if he'd showered, dressed, or eaten properly that day.
Stan crunched his way over the snow toward the bus stop, indignantly hawking a wad of spit at the ground. This was a new habit he couldn't really explain, but the heat of it melted at least some of the snow, and that morning he wished he could melt it all. "Hey dude," Kyle had been standing by the bus stop with the others, but he jogged over to Stan instead of waiting. "Hey dude," Stan replied, offering his first smile of the day. Kyle was another one of the few warm and familiar things in his life. Stan's stomach rumbled audibly as he and Kyle closed the distance to where Cartman and Kenny were standing, causing Kyle to ask, "Have you eaten yet?" Stan shook his head and reached to pull some fruit from his bag, "No, but I've got some. Do you want anything?" Kenny peered into Stan's bag and reached for a banana while Kyle grabbed an orange. "Aren't you going to offer me anything?" Cartman glared. "Since when do you eat fruit that isn't drizzled in chocolate, fatass?" Kyle snickered at his own tired joke, tugging off one of his gloves by his teeth to better peel the orange with his bare hand.
"Fuck you Kyle!" Cartman fumed, further indicting them once Kyle took a slice of orange and feed it to Stan, "I don't want fruit from your fruity ass anyway, you orange-ginger-jersey-Jew smoothie!" Kyle broke off a quarter of orange and held it in Cartman's face, "Just take some. And give one of your powdered donuts to Stan." Cartman snatched the orange in his hand and stuffed it into his mouth like a hamster. Just as Cartman knew that Kyle had secret caches of money on his person for emergencies, Kyle knew that Cartman was always hoarding snacks. If Stan and Kenny hadn't eaten, or if Kyle's blood sugar was lacking, Cartman was a big sugary buoy they could lean on for support with a minimum of whining and bargaining. Kenny silently plucked a powdered donut same as Stan and Kyle, making up a fourth of the container's contents. "Seriously hate you guys..." Cartman grumbled, swallowing the orange he'd been chewing on and taking a tithing of assorted change from Kyle. Stan felt at least a little better than he did when he woke up and sat in the back to get warm.
That pleasant feeling of warmness dissipated once they arrived at school, and he practiced making his mind go numb for another day to get through using his TiVo to teach classes and the ceaseless chatter of his classmates. Stan let his personal bubble down when the half-day bell rang and Kyle ran over to him with bounding energy. "Token passed around a note for a pick-up game at recess, wanna run to the basketball court with me?" Stan checked his phone first and looked up to Kyle's expression of impatience and anticipated disappointment, "I was gonna hang out with Wendy by the tree." Kyle rolled his eyes, "What's so great about that tree?" Stan explained, tapping at his phone for a belated reply that he'd be there, "If she says the tree it means just us. If she said the slide or the swings, she'd be with Bebe or Red and I'd probably be able to duck out. I said I'd be available for her, so that's what I'm going to do." Kyle was jogging in place and began his turn to leave, "Whatever dude, I'll just play with someone else."
Stan was glad for some private time with Wendy, and he was too tired for sports anyway. He ran to meet her under the tree, finding her there waiting. "Hi, Stan." Wendy was clearly in a good mood, hugging him and kissing his cheek. She lifted up his wool cap and checked the status of his oily hair. "You skipped a shower again. Is your family noticing?" Stan shook his head, "No, Shelley still wastes hot water enough for two people. You know most people blame industrial waste, but domestic use is still a large contributor to water pollution. Do I stink though?" Wendy held Stan's collar bashfully, and her expression made his stomach gurgle. Wendy admitted, "Not to me...I think you smell good. Like wood smoke, dirt, and a bit of orange." She kissed just the corner of his lips and Stan felt woozy. His stomach felt like it was at a rolling boil now, and Wendy stepped back noticing the green to his cheeks. "Are you going to throw up?" the way Wendy asked it sounded casual, perhaps even interested. Either she was trying to allay his shame, or she had some kind of morbid fascination with this reflux response of his to her intimacy. He wished it wasn't like this, he felt so badly that even if she accepted his odd condition he just couldn't stop it. He wanted to kiss her, but it almost always followed that he would vomit immediately after. Stan could only nod because that painful acidic feeling he'd felt when he woke up was back and he was doubling over. Wendy stroked his back and pulled a handkerchief from her coat. "It's okay...I've got some water in my bag and we can get the toothbrush from your locker if you do."
Stan spat on the ground and saw black bile in his saliva. He'd never seen that before...He rose back up and tried to play it off, just push it aside from his mind as something benign, kicking at the snow. "I think I'll be okay...My stomach's sort of...Cramping or something though, it hurts." Wendy offered him some water and eased him to sit by the tree, inquiring, "Did you eat breakfast?" Stan mumbled, "Half of an orange and a powdered donut..." Wendy sat next to him and held his arm, "Well that's hardly a balanced breakfast, is it? Don't try to get out of lunch either. You can have some of mine, it'll sit much easier in your stomach than something from the cafeteria." The issue of the cafeteria diet and junk food vending machines was a fierce political battle for Wendy as student council president, who had fatass contrarian Eric Cartman rallying opposition for the sake of cheap, fatty, salty, sugary foods. Wendy considered that if she was going to allow Stan to puke, he shouldn't end up purging lunch in the process. She nuzzled up to her moody boyfriend and turned his chin to bring them face to face. She closed her eyes and kissed him firmly on the lips. Puke was better than the verbal bile other boys inevitably spewed. Stan was compassionate, sensitive, and very obviously in love with her. She loved him as well. It wasn't fair to either of them to stay apart just because Stan couldn't keep his lunch down. All the other girls could call her whatever they wanted for dating such an ungraceful dork, she didn't care.
For Stan's sake she hoped he wouldn't retch, and after a few seconds of enjoying their lips pressed together in the cold for warmth, chances seemed good he wouldn't. When she pulled away and opened her eyes however, the telling expression on Stan's face warned her only too late. She started to move, hoping not to upset him and give him more cause for future apprehension, but he heaved and heaved with an agonized expression on his face, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. She could not stop a mask of revulsion and panic forming on her face as she saw that the bile streaming from Stan's mouth was pitch black. She recoiled and stumbled to her feet, her brain whizzing for an answer when the streaks and chunks of viscous black expulsion over her face and neck started to sizzle and burn, corroding her flesh. The entire school yard heard Wendy's blistering screams of pain and pulled their attention, a mob running to find her clutching at her face and writhing in the snow. Stan covered his mouth with both hands, hysterically numb as burning ichor dripped down his chin, and veins popped in bolts of red around his eyes that brimmed with jet-colored tears.
This horrifying episode was the first of many in the town that would come to be known as South Hollow; a quiet mountain community where paranormal phenomena infected the people like a virus. Stan Marsh was inconsolable in the quarantine he was initially placed in at Hell's Pass hospital. To placate him long enough to get samples of the strange culture in his stomach, they allowed his friend Kyle Broflovski in to sit with him. Stan cried through the afternoon and into the evening with his eyes clasped tight as Kyle held him, confused and afraid. They went through a stack of blue medical towels wiping away his tears. His eyes had gone completely bloodshot when he was admitted, and were now a glossy black that spread from the pupil, to the iris, to the sclera. Kyle didn't know what to say, but when Stan asked if he thought Wendy was okay, he replied with conviction. "Yes, it's a bad burn, but she'll live. There will be scarring, but..." Stan choked and spat into a metal tin the doctor had left before wracking with more sobs against Kyle. "How do you know that?"
Kyle explained, "I saw her sheet, it was easy enough to read." Stan asked again, "But how? You've been with me all day..." Kyle went quiet. He was certain he had seen it. The sheet, Wendy, her parents...Kyle focused his eyes on only Stan; yet he could see more beyond that, beyond this room...With trembling fingers feeling their way blindly over Kyle's face, Stan confirmed the first transmission of the Hollow condition from one victim to another when he felt an unnatural, spongy lump on his best friend's forehead. All of South Park was quarantined that night, and all of its people became specimens in the study of the Hollow condition; a paranormal malady with chaotic, unpredictable disfigurements. Nothing ever changed for the better in South Park. That idea had taken on a new, ominous meaning for Stan, as everything rapidly changed for the worse.