South Park © Matt & Trey.

AKA The Misadventures of the McCormick Kids. Poor babies, how I love to torture them.

Some angst for y'all. All in Ken's POV.

Crawl, crawl as a child
Move like a man
Pushing like a father
Pulling like a friend

Blond Redhead

It's Saturday morning – another lazy summer day. I wake up with a massive migraine, squinting as I get up and trip over an empty beer bottle from last night. Typical. I try to recall what types of mind altering drugs I put into my system. My eyes ache as I strain to keep them open. Also typical. I struggle to make breakfast in this stranger's kitchen, to make a cup of coffee. 'It's too early in the morning for this shit…' I think to myself, slowing my pace to try and find some neutral ground. I don't quite remember what happened, so I'll just assume it was a good night. It's the only logical thing I can do. I grab a disposable cup and pour the dark liquid inside before leaving the kitchen with a piece of toasted bread in my other hand.

I survey the halls. There are kids unconscious, passed out in their own puke. There's a girl with no shirt on and a lot of spilled drinks. The floor is sticky beneath my feet and I can't help but cringe as I move to find Craig. He's in the next room, asleep in a pile of bodies. Among them is Clyde, Bebe, Nichole and Token.

I finish the piece of bread and sip on the coffee. It tastes awful. I debate throwing it on Craig's face, but I won't. Instead, I wake up him up by shouting in his ear. "Wake up, bitch!" I yell, waking a few other people up in the process. Craig stirs, brows drawing together and there is pain evident on his face. He is probably as hung over as I am. He sits up, untangling himself from the pile of bodies and forcing himself to his feet. After a few more sips, I discard the coffee cup on a nearby table.

I take Craig's hand and we walk home. "Did you see Karen there?" I ask.

"No," he murmurs. "Did you see Ruby?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Jason slept with your sister, y'know," Craig mumbles.

"I know," I say tersely.

"He said she was a good fuck. He's not the only one… The kids brag about it," he continues. "They say she's easy. They say all the McCormick kids are easy."

"I know," I hiss. "Shut up…" I can't deny it's true. Kevin has sucked cock at Colfax Point on more than one occasion. Even I haven't done shit like that. Ruby and Karen will be freshmen this year. It makes me physically sick knowing about the kind of shit they get themselves into. They're only fourteen, for fuck's sake. They're practically babies.

I walk with Craig to his house and we make out for a few minutes before parting ways. When I arrive home, Kevin is the only one here. Not even my parents are around. He is sitting in the living room putting freshly dried marijuana into little baggies. I linger near the stairwell and ask, "So, how was your night?"

"Pile of shit," he murmurs hoarsely, eyebrows drawing together in concentration. "You?"

"Yeah, 'bout the same," I say. "How's business?"

"Pretty good," he snorts, running a hand through his brown hair. "In this fuckin' town, there's not much to do but get high."

"Yeah," I say. It's true enough.

Me and Kevin look a lot alike. I used to deny it when I was young, but I can see the resemblance now. We've got the same skin tone, the same hair style. The only difference is that he's got brown hair and he's a few inches taller. It's funny. I used to be the one taking care of things around here, but now it's Kevin. He's cleaned himself up. He keeps us fed and helps us out when we've drank too much or greened out on the carpet. He's quit hard drugs since his teenage years. Now he just smokes weed. I thank God we've got at least one good head around here, because for fuck's sake, me and Karen are off in our own little world most of the time.

We chat aimlessly for a few minutes and then I retreat to my room. I try to be productive, but I can't bring myself to do anything worthwhile. I'm too distracted.

Karen gets home late, like she often does. I try not to think about where she spent the night and what she spent the night doing. I've tried hard to keep her from the world, but she's accepting all the wrong things with open arms. She doesn't bother greeting me as she walks past my bedroom door. She's wearing her hair up, with red lipstick and dark eye makeup. Her black dress is short and she's wearing fishnet tights with black shoes. She was probably out with Ruby Tucker. They were probably at the same party I was at last night. They're best friends. I can't stand Ruby, really, I can't. I've tried to be nice to her, but she's such a brat. I don't even think Craig likes her that much and they're siblings.

I want to wrap Karen up… keep her safe. She doesn't want me to, though. She makes that clear many times. She says it's because I'm a hypocrite. I do all the things I want to keep her safe from: unprotected sex, hard drugs and douchebag guys who use and abuse those beneath them. She says I'm an idiot because I have Craig and Craig is good but I don't keep him. I'm always on and off.

"It's never as bad as you think." Craig Tucker once told me that. Of all people! Funny, right? Craig doesn't like to show it, but he's a good person. Sometimes I think he's too good of a person because he always gives me what I want, even when it's more than he might want to give. He has let me touch him with hands that were drunk and aggressive. Sometimes we're violent. He hits me. He doesn't hit me hard. Sometimes he just does it defensively, but when he does I don't hesitate to hit him back five times as hard. Let me just say straight up, getting beat on by the person you love is almost worse than getting beat on by your own flesh and blood… but shit happens.

I know Craig won't hurt me unless I hurt him first, whether or not it's with my fist I'm always the one starting it. Sometimes he'll hit me again. Sometimes he won't. Sometimes he'll just sigh and leave. He always forgives me for it, but I feel pretty downright awful about it when all is said and done. Even before we got together there were times we'd be texting and I'd have my hand down my pants at the simple thought of him. I fantasized about him a lot. I wanted him so fucking bad.

The first time we fucked it was nice. The second time we fucked I was angry and it wasn't so nice. He was shaking and squirming. I had a firm grip on his shoulders and he couldn't budge. He lied afterward and said it didn't hurt but I saw the blood. I love Craig. Really, I do. I know I don't treat him the way I should, but I do love him.

The first time we fucked was also the first time I saw him laugh in all my years of knowing him. I guess it is some kind of coping mechanism but it's cute nonetheless. Getting a dick up the ass hurts a hell of a lot in the start. It's a pain I know quite well and it's a pain Craig slowly got accustomed to.

We're done high school now. I just turned eighteen a few months ago and the guys threw me a party. It was a small party, with only my closest friends. I was glad for that because I don't have a great track record with parties lately.

Eric calls me a desperate hooker. We would play this game where one of us would think of something disgusting and see who would do it for the lowest amount of money. I always won. I don't want to be the kind of guy I am. I don't want to be the guy who is always the object of sympathy. I don't want to be the guy who is always naked at parties either, but it still happens. Just last month, Bebe saw me with no clothing and jerking off in front of a group of college guys I didn't even know. Naturally, it was a frat party. The worst kinds of parties are frat parties. I went with Bebe, Clyde and Token but we all dispersed and I found a crew of unfavourable guys to waste time with. The drunker I got, the sadder I felt. I get in these moods where I hate myself and I want to hurt myself because I get so angry and miserable. I let one of the guys stick the neck of an empty beer bottle up my ass and this is around when Bebe found me. She told everyone to scatter and she helped me find my clothing. Looking back on it, I'm inexplicably thankful she didn't leave me alone in my drunken dimness, but at the time I was just angry at her.

I didn't get fucked that night. I got dressed and she held my hand as we went to find Clyde. She told him that she was taking me home. I started crying in her car and she pulled over. She put her arms around me and held me so tightly. She was trying to tell me that I didn't do anything wrong and that it was fine. I think she was crying too because her voice was wet when she asked me, "Why do you do these things?" It left me feeling hollow. I don't know why. I just felt empty. When I was finished letting it tall out, I could hardly move a muscle. That's when I knew I was going to puke. I opened the door and hurled on the ground. She rubbed circles on my back and said nothing more. She just took me home after I was done being sick.

At home, Karen gave me this look of disgust and Kevin helped me upstairs since I couldn't walk straight. Bebe told Kevin all about what I had been up to and the icing on the cake was when she said, "Keep an eye on him."

It's funny. Karen used to be the one taking care of me. Now it's Kevin. Time really changes people. When I was younger, part of me hated Kevin… but now, I wouldn't want him to change.

The following morning, I take a quick shower and then Karen hogs the bathroom, putting make up on in the mirror. "You look like you're on your way to the street corner," I tell her angrily from the doorway. I know I shouldn't be insulting my little sister like that, but I'm too frustrated to keep my mouth shut.

She turns to me and laughs. "Comin' from you, it don't mean much." She puts the cap on the lipstick and adds, "I hear stories, y'know… really fuckin' gross stories that I'd rather not hear about my own damn brother."

"I hear stories just like that about you," I retort. "It doesn't make me feel too great, either."

She rolls her eyes and throws the lipstick on the counter, walking past me and downstairs. I'm not angry at her. I'm mostly just angry at myself because I think I created this monster. I miss the days when she was young and she would make me and Kevin play with her. She'd put make up on us and do strange things to our hair, but we didn't mind it. It made her happy. Now, she finds happiness in different things. Can I even call it happiness?

Kevin is already gone. He's probably out meeting clients. I ought to get going, too. I work at a sex shop, even though I've just finished high school. But I'm eighteen, so it's all good and legal. Sometimes I let my boss rail me. If I'm in one of those self-loathing moods, he'll take advantage of it. Craig hates that. I told him about it and he got so angry at me for letting it happen. He said, "Just because your dad beats you it doesn't mean you should become something to be used and abused. Come on, you're better than this." It didn't really sink in. If it did, maybe I'd be in a better place than I am now.

The first time it happened was during the job interview. "Put that pretty mouth of yours to work," he said and I did and then we fucked. When it was over I just laid there and felt sick, having had to force back a few tears. He said nothing more but I felt him clean the mess off my stomach and then I heard him leave the back room. I felt stupid, but still, I got the job. I must've done something right.

On my way home from work, I stop at the corner store and buy a pack of cigarettes. When I arrive home, I light one and my parents don't bother telling me not to smoke. I kind of wish they would because then it would allow me to pretend that they actually care about what I do. I throw my cigarette on the floor, but they still don't look twice.

I let out a miserable sigh and go upstairs, wandering into my brother's room. "Kevin?" I say his name weakly as I hover in the doorway.

"What?" he murmurs.

"Do you have any weed?" I hate myself for asking, but I can't help it.

He lets out a sigh because he's used to this by now. "Yeah, come here." I walk inside and take a seat on his bed as he digs through his nightstand, pulling out a plastic bag. "Here," he hands me the bag, a red lighter and his pipe.

I nod my thanks and fill the pipe before lighting it.

"Why are you upset this time?" he asks.

I don't answer the question. Instead, I just sigh and ask one of my own. "When did everything get so fucked up?"

"What do you mean?" he wonders, raising a brow.

"Karen hates me. I hate me. Craig thinks I'm a mess. My friends think I'm a mess," I explain, choking out the words in a pained whisper

"I think you're a mess, too. Hell, you are a mess," he cuts in. "You're worse off than me. It don't take a genius to see that. You're fucked." He takes the pipe from me and puts it to his lips, inhaling deeply before handing it back.

"Thanks," I murmur dryly.

"You tried fuckin' hard to hide Karen away from the kinda shit you get up to, but it don't work that way," he continues. "You can't be a hypocrite. If you're gonna talk to her about rights and wrongs you better practise what you preach. Otherwise your words don't mean shit. She grew up seeing you going out to parties, bring strangers home, get high, and get drunk. She saw you doing exactly what you told her not to. She prolly got curious. I mean, it's understandable, right? Wouldn't you get curious if the roles were reversed? Little girls and little boy are impressionable like that."

"Yeah…" I relent. I guess part of this really is my fault. I hate myself even more for it.

Craig shows up at the door later in the day, offering me a less than genuine smile once I let him in. He isn't one for smiles. He never was, but now he smiles even less than he did when he were kids. I offer him a smile in return, though mine is much more sincere. I gladly take in his appearance before gesturing for him to follow me upstairs. He rubs the dark circles around his eyes and does so. Once we're in my room, he takes off his chullo hat, revealing a head full of black hair. He has hat-head and each dark strand is stuck up in an odd angle. I bring my hands up and smooth them down.

"You look tired," I say. "More so than usual."

He shrugs, but doesn't respond. I guess I'm not surprised. There are times when Craig goes days without saying a word. Sometimes he does it when he's upset, sometimes he does it when he's tired and sometimes he does it when I've done something wrong. He's really good at the silent treatment. It drives me crazy and what makes it worse is that he'll still hang out with me and he'll still sleep with me… he just won't make a damn sound. Having someone physically close, but mentally far away is the worst punishment and he knows exactly how to grind my gears. He won't talk to me until I've figured out what I did wrong.

"Am I getting the silent treatment?" I ask, just to make sure he's not pissed.

"No," he says.

"Okay, just making sure," I tell him before reaching for the zipper on his sweater. I pull it down and tug it off his shoulders, letting it fall into the carpet. I reach a hand into his jeans, letting it travel further south. I feel coarse hair, smirking at him as I wrap my fingers around his dick.

His eyes are half-lidded and then he closes them completely. He grabs my wrist and says, "Stop."

I do as he asks, watching as he takes a step back and finishes undressing himself. I do the same, pulling my t-shirt over my head and dropping my pants and shorts. Once we're both bare, we move to my mattress. I've never had an actual bed – just a fucking mattress lying on the floor. It's not even a good mattress, but oh well. Craig never complains.

Craig sucks on his fingers for a few seconds and then they disappear behind him. I swear, the sight of Craig fingering himself is enough to make me come all on its own. I love the fact that I'm the only one who gets to see this side of him. I'm the first person who fucked him and he hasn't let anyone touch him since I did. I like to see him when he's not looking so stoic. I lie back and roll a condom on for once in my life before lubing up.

When Craig finishes preparing himself, he slowly sinks into my lap and starts to roll his hips, impaling himself. I close my eyes and thrust upward, meeting each jerk of his hips. I plunge in quickly. He gasps and half-sobs. I pull out and do it again. The grip he has on my shoulders tightens. "Does it hurt?" I ask. I never know for sure. I mean, it's not supposed to… but the sounds he makes cause me to think otherwise.

"No…" he whispers, letting out a shaky breath. We have a safe word, but he never uses it. No matter how rough we get. Sometimes I think he may have just forgotten it.

I hook my arm around him and sit up, flipping him over so he's beneath me. I don't move. I just sit here with my dick in him for a minute. "I love you," I tell him.

"Yeah," he says. "I know you do… and I love you, too." I know he means it, even though he doesn't say it as often as I say it. Why else would he stick around and deal with so much of my bullshit? I'm high maintenance… I wouldn't blame him even if he did leave… though, I probably wouldn't let him get too far.

I start moving again, slower this time. I like it best when it's like this. It's not violent. We're not angry. We're calm and it's nice.

Craig spends the rest of the day with me. We just lounge around in our boxer shorts like a couple of lazy bums until Karen comes home. By then, we're both sitting in the kitchen drinking black coffee. She strolls in carelessly, trying to portray an air of apathy, but I can read her better than that.

"What happened?" I ask, immediately noting the bruise on her jaw and smudged eye makeup.

She sighs warily. "Some asshole got mad 'cause I wouldn't give him a piece."

I frown. "What's his name?"

"Don't worry about it," she insists. "Ruby got him back… It was awesome." She lets out a little laugh, as if recalling the incident. "She was wearing those really skinny, sharp high heels. You know… I could never wear shoes like that, let alone walk in them. It's Ruby's talent. She can fight in those stilettos."

"Is she okay?" Craig asks, not sounding like he honestly cares that much. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't.

Karen nods. "No one messes with Ruby Tucker, ain't that right?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "That's right."

It's true. No one fucks with Ruby. Unfortunately, the same doesn't go for Karen. A lot of people fuck with her – or, try to fuck with her. It's because she's small. Ruby, on the other hand, is tall. She's not afraid to piss people off and she's scrappy as hell. I guess, as much as I dislike her, I'll always appreciate that she looks after Karen since Karen won't let me help her.

"Anyway," Karen sighs. "I'll leave you two fags. I need a fucking shower." She turns around and leaves the room. I hear her walk upstairs and I hear water running through the pipes in the wall a minute later.

"Where are your parents today?" Craig asks.

I shrug. "Who the fuck knows? They were here earlier, but they're gone now. They could be anywhere. Maybe they're dead."

"Hopefully not…" he says. "Wouldn't that mean you wouldn't come back next time you got killed?"

"Probably," I admit.

"I don't want that," Craig murmurs.

I smile at him. "Cute," I coo. "You care about me."

He rolls his eyes at me. "Idiot. Of course I do."

I just chuckle. "Don't worry, Craig. They're probably fine. They always are."

"Yeah, probably," he agrees. He's spent enough time at the McCormick house to know what kind of shit my parents get up to. They're fucking insane.

"So, come on," I start, deciding to change the subject to something a little more interesting, "you probably have a lot of unsavory thoughts about me. Why don't you tell me what you really think of me."

"I love you," he says.

"And…?"

"You're awful," he starts. "Sometimes I think all you care about are dicks, getting high and screwing people over… yourself included."

I can't help but laugh. "How on point. Better watch that tongue of yours."

He smiles lightly. "That's all I used to think, but now I know there's more to you than that. If there wasn't, I'd force myself to leave."

I rest my elbow on the table and rest my chin in my palm, eyeing him as he trash talks me.

"You scare me sometimes," he continues. "I'm still not sure whether or not you do it consciously. Do you try, or is it just something you don't realize you're doing? I don't know."

"You're talkative today," I note.

"Only because you asked me what I thought," he says. "For the first time in your fucking life, you asked me what I thought about something instead of just assuming."

"Well, maybe I know what's best for you," I try.

"I know what's best for me, Kenny. Not you. Just because you're immortal, it doesn't mean you're a god."

"I'm your God," I say. I stand up, discarding my cold coffee. Craig follows me out of the kitchen and once we reach the middle of the living room, I stop. I turn around and push him onto the sofa. He lets out a sound of surprise as his back hits the cushions. I bend down, hovering over him.

"What now?" he asks.

"Hm?" I muse, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head.

"You've got me pinned," he says. "The rest is up to you. It always is."

I lower myself so our chests are pressed together. "You're right," I agree. "It's always up to me… but did you ever think that maybe I'm just waiting for you to say what you want. You don't need to be invited to say you're opinion. I never new Craig Tucker was so submissive until we started fucking."

"I never knew Kenny McCormick was such a fuck up until we got close," he retorts. "Sure, I heard the rumours… but now I know the truth."

"Yeah," I say, grinding my hips against his. "You know me best. It's almost a shame. Sometimes I wish I could still shock you with my secrets."

"Sometimes you do," he admits. "When I think you've done the worst thing imaginable, you find a way to top yourself."

I smile, releasing his hands and bending down to peck him on the lips. "You're so nice, Craig," I say cynically. "Can't you see I'm damaged goods? I can't help it."

"Right," he snorts. "You're a walking cliché."

"I know you love me," I say, "but sometimes I think you have DPD, no offence."

He scoffs. "What the fuck is that?"

"Dependent personality disorder," I explain.

"Oh, really?" he sneers. "Since when did you become Doctor McCormick? You don't have the credentials to diagnose me, you idiot."

"Well, no one in their right mind would stay with a guy like me," I reason.

"Neither of us is in our right mind," he says.

"True," I relent, grinding against him some more.

He lets out a soft moan and a minute later, quick feet stomp down the stairs, halting mid-way. "God dammit!" Karen snaps, turning away. "You guys are fucking exhibitionist perverts!" I hear her holler as she runs back upstairs. It's not the first time she's walked in on us in compromising positions. It probably won't be the last, either.

Craig flushes. "Jesus Christ, Kenny… get off me before your parents get home," he murmurs.

"Nah," I say. He squirms, trying to move out from under me but to no avail. "That feels good," I tell him and he sighs, giving up.

"You're a dick," he declares.

"Yeah, I know that," I say. "It's hardly a recent development." Nonetheless, I get off of him and stand up, stretching my limbs. "What are we doing today?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says, getting up. "Let's get dressed first."

I haven't seen Kyle, Eric or Stan in about a week. It's okay, though. They're all probably busy with their girlfriends. Kyle is dating the lovely Bebe Stevens. We all knew it would happen eventually. They're both pretty happy. Stan, of course, is still dating Wendy Testaburger. They won't be breaking up any time soon. Eric, on the other hand, is with Annie Faulk. Weird, right? I won't question it. It seems that everyone has someone, which is nice. I'm happy for them all and I don't mind if I get pushed to the side.

We're sitting in Harbucks right now, ingesting more caffeine. Tweek is working here today, so we exchanged a few polite words with him.

Craig is drinking plain green tea. He likes plain stuff. I'm drinking coffee with a fuck-load of sugar. I hate plain stuff. Sometimes I think about these things – these little things – and I realize how different Craig is from me. People say that opposites attract but they eventually break apart. Eventually they run out of things to talk about. I wonder if that's what will happen to us. People say it's best to find someone you have things in common with. I wonder what me and Craig have in common, if anything.

"Craig…?" I say his name.

"Hm?"

"What do we have in common with one another?" I ask him.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Family," he starts. "We both have little sisters who are inseparable. Our home life sucks."

"What an awful list…" I chuckle bitterly. It seems we just have all the bad things in common… but maybe that's enough.

"Why'd you ask?" he wonders aloud.

I shrug. "I'm just waiting for the day you try to leave."

"I won't," he promises. "We've been through too much."

"Are you lying?" I ask.

"No," he says. "I don't lie and you know it." He's right. He says lying takes work. Lies build and build and grow and grow. They become hard to maintain, so it's better to just tell the truth.

"Okay," I grin at him.

"If I did try to leave… would you stop me?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "I'd lock you up."

"How unsettling," he states flatly. "But, in a way, you've already got me locked up. Sometimes I sit and wonder if this is what Stockholm syndrome feels like."

I chuckle at that. "Good."

He'll be mine forever! But maybe I'm lying when I talk like this. I do love Craig and if he wanted nothing to do with me, maybe I'd back off. Then again, I lack self-control. It's something I need to work on because I don't want to keep hurting him.

The next day, I end up spotting Stan and Wendy out for a walk. I wave to them and they wave back, but we don't exchange a word. I guess that's how people begin to grow apart. I guess it's okay. I've always been the fourth wheel when hanging out with Stan, Kyle and Eric. I wonder, if I didn't wave first, would they have waved? We aren't as close as we used to be. Things change, people change and so often it's for the worse. I know for a fact that I've changed for the worst. I wonder what they would say if they knew about the things I do. I wonder what they would say if they knew I hurt myself and other people. I bet they'd be disappointed that Saint Kenny fell so far.

I continue walking until I reach Bebe's house. I stroll up the driveway and knock on the door. A moment later, it opens and she's standing there. "Hey," she greets.

"Hey," I return, stepping inside. "What's the plan for today?"

"Chill day," she says. "Work is killing me, so I want to have a relaxing day with my buddy. I think we could both use it."

"I hear yah," I laugh.

I take off my shoes and follow her into her room, where we watch Paprika on her laptop, followed by Legally Blonde. As Elle Woods conquers in pink stilettos, I feel myself entering a daydream. Maybe it's the pot. I did smoke a bowl with Kevin before coming over.

"Earth to Kenny McCormick!" Bebe calls, waving her hands around in my face as the movie continues.

"Sorry," I laugh.

She gives me a small smile. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," I say, returning the smile.

"How's work?" she asks.

"It's fine," I tell her. She continues asking me mundane questions and I continue to answer them until she's satisfied. "So, what's with all the inquiries?"

She shrugs. "I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"I'm not unhappy," I say.

"Are you sure?" she wonders. "You do things that only a sad person would do. You hurt yourself all the time. You can't possibly be happy if you're not content with yourself."

I roll my eyes. "Fine, I've got some stuff to deal with… but who doesn't?"

"You've got a little more on your plate than most," she says.

"Ugh," I let out a long whine, not wanting to think about this shit. She always forces me to, though. I know she's only trying to help. I know she wants the best for me…

After watching a few movies with Bebe, I head out for a night shift. I don't mind it here. It's pretty quiet, even when it's busy. People don't really like to talk about the things they buy here and the people who do talk about it are usually pretty awkward. I don't know why. There's no shame in wanting to make yourself feel good. I always put on my softest smile when people ask me for help, no matter who they are or what they're looking for.

I've sampled a lot of the merchandise, so I know what I'm talking about. I also get that everyone is built a little differently. What one person likes, another person might hate.

Lola came in here a few weeks ago and nearly turned around when she spotted me. I called her back over and I helped her pick something fun. She ended up wanting a vibrator. One that had good speed, but wasn't too loud. I showed her a few different models. She picked one and that was that.

I really wish people wouldn't be so shy, but I guess this is the world we live in. Dick-shaped dildos aren't even legal in some states!

Fortunately, my creepy boss isn't in today. It's just me here. Business is always a little better when he's not around. I don't think I'm the only person who finds him hella creepy. He's balding and kind of fat, plus he smells like hot dog water. Saying that doesn't paint the prettiest picture, huh? Sometimes I can't believe I slept with him! I had his rancid cock in my mouth more than once. I must really fucking hate myself. Like Bebe says, I've got no standards and maybe that means I've lost my self-respect... but things like that can be recovered, can't they?

On my way home, my phone rings. I check the caller ID before answering. It's Kevin. "Hey, what's up?"

"Hey," he says wearily. "I'm at Hells Pass. Karen got hurt."

"What?" I ask stupidly.

"Karen got hurt!" he repeats angrily.

"How?" I croak.

I hear him sigh into the receiver. "I don't want to fucking say it," he murmurs. "Just get over here." He hangs up after that and I don't hesitate to start running.