Hi. I know, I'm in the middle of a multi-chap fic right now but this one-shot needed to be written for two reasons:

1. I'm still planning ideas for the next chapter in my head and 2. This is 100% based on a true story that actually happened to me. Tonight. In fact, this is practically an autobiography of tonight. Needless to say, it scared the shit out of me. Typing is pretty hard right now since my hands are shaking so much.

Disclaimer: South Park is not mine. This experience however is.

Small Towns

"Finally!" I sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall that finally showed the time I had been hoping to see for the last few hours. 11:00. Closing time.

"I am so far behind on my close." Stan groaned, "I still have to wipe all the counters and I have a mountain of dishes to do." I sighed in agreement.

"I know what you mean, I've barely started." It had been a long day working at Dairy Queen, with customers lined up to the door for most of the evening. The bulk of the staff had left at ten leaving only myself, Stan and Kenny who was cleaning the fryers in the kitchen. I still had to empty out all three of the tills and clean out the two ice cream machines. The warm weather brought the people of South Park to Dairy Queen like mice to cheese. I opened the first till and began to take out the cash, straightening the bills.

"What a night." Stan sighed, cleaning spilled toppings from the stainless steel counter.

"Ow!" I exclaimed suddenly, glaring at the paper cut that had appeared in the tender skin between my thumb and index finger. I sucked the blood off, wincing as my saliva entered the tiny cut.

"What's up?" He asked, glancing over curiously.

"Paper cut," I sighed, "Why does it always have to be in the worst places? Like right between the fingers. Ugh." Stan nodded sympathetically.

"Paper cuts are the worst." He agreed. I grimaced as I straightened the last of the money, putting it and the rolled coins in a brown paper bag. The three of us worked in silence for a while, too tired from the long shift to make much conversation.

"Well at least it's a nice day." Stan sighed, "I think I'm going to walk home tonight, I need some fresh air after today." Wiping down the ice cream machine I nodded.

"No kidding, I think I'll walk too." My mom would probably freak, she didn't like the thought of me walking alone at night. Please, we're in a small town, what can happen? Stan sighed and stepped back from the counter.

"Almost done, I just have to do my dishes and take out the garbage." I sighed. I wasn't anywhere close to done yet; it would probably be one in the morning before I got to go home.

"Kyle, I think I'm done." Kenny called from in the kitchen area. I put down the coins I was rolling and walked into the kitchen to double-check his cleaning job. Absentmindedly I ran through the checklist in my mind. Fryers off, counter clean, condiments put away…

"Yeah, you can probably go home, Kenny. Just remember to take out your garbage before you go." He nodded and I turned back to the straightening the money from the last till.

"Kyle…? Can…you come here?" I heard Stan's voice and frowned. It sounded kind of strange. I put down the coins again and followed the voice to the back door. It was a joke. That was the only explanation I could think of. A masked figure was holding knife to my friend's throat and regarding me over Stan's shoulder. Of course it was a joke. Stuff like this didn't happen in small towns.

"Kyle…get the money…" Stan said in a trembling voice. This is a joke. They're just trying to see if I'll fall for it. I hesitated, still convinced this wasn't real. I studied Stan's face carefully, trying to see if he was acting.

"C'mon," I scoffed, "Craig is that you? Clyde?"

"Kyle…please…get the money." Stan was starting to cry. My heart started pounding then. Oh god…this can't be…real… Numbly I nodded, feeling my body begin to tremble. I went back into the store and around the corner where I couldn't be seen. Kenny walked next to me, eyes wide.

"Is…"

"Kenny, call 911, and tell them we're being robbed." I said in a low voice. Eyes wide, Kenny fumbled out his cell phone. Maybe we could just sit tight until the cops came.

"…Kyle…" Stan sounded terrified. The thought of anything happening to him because of my indecision was too much to bear.

"Coming." I called, trying to keep my voice steady. Without another thought I grabbed the brown paper bag that held at least a thousand dollars cash. With a pounding heart and trembling hands I hurried back to the scene in the back. I extended my shaking hand with the rolled up paper bag. The knife holder grabbed it and pushed Stan towards the door.

"Get in." He growled roughly shoving us both in and slamming the door inches from my nose. I poked my head out anyway to see the black-clad figure sprinting to the opposite end of the parking lot and disappearing into the night. Still shaking I retreated back inside. Stan was slumped against the counter, his body shuddering.

"Are…are you okay?" I was mentally kicking myself for thinking this was a joke. My friend had been a hair away from dying at the point of a knife and I had scoffed. I didn't think it was possible to feel like a bigger asshole. Stan didn't reply, he shakily dug out his cell and dialed 911, despite the fact that Kenny was already on his phone. Not knowing what to do, I just watched, offering details as my two friends described the assailant to the person on the other line. I had to admit I was fairly impressed with how fast the police arrived. Within minutes the parking lot was bathed in red and blue lights. Numbly I walked to the door, turning the deadbolt to let the officers in. I can't believe it. Things like this don't happen in small towns like ours. I glanced from Stan who was struggling not to start hyperventilating as he answered the questions, to Kenny, whose eyes were still as wide as dinner plates. I looked down at my own hands that were shaking so hard it looked like they were going through a seizure. Crap, my mom was right. I don't think I'll ever walk home again.

Okay, I know it wasn't even a very good story at all and it's probably the shortest most pointless thing I've ever written, but like I said, this is almost exactly what happened to me. And like I said, it scared the shit out of me. I hail from a tiny city and trust me, this is the first I've ever even heard of armed robbery in my city, nevermind actually witnessed it. And yes, I thought it was a joke and I still feel like an asshole. :( Well, sorry for those of you that had to read this; I'm going back to my other story now.