HEllo! So, being as bored as I am, I have decided to make myself a wonderful, little... Ask The South Park Characters Story? So yeah um... first time doing this lemme know if i'm doing it wrong.
ummm this is set before season... 19? Craig and Tweek aren't dating yet but um that's really all. Oh and Pip isn't dead but he's not even in it so.
So just ask your questions down below in the comments okay thanks love you~~
[STAN'S POV]
I, Stan Marsh, captain of the football team and caretaker of animals, am sitting on my bed, staring out the window. It's something I do quite often, and I take pleasure in the act of doing so despite how odd it is. Honestly, staring out the window is pretty relaxing. Sometimes people pass by, and I watch them. Other times, snow is falling, and I watch it crystalize on the glass. Nature and human behaviors are quite fascinating.
Staring out the window gives me a chance to seclude myself from the world. If I'm upset, I just stare out the window and tune out from the rest of the world. I can think over situations. I can think of my friends. My family. School. My life as a whole. Peaceful.
At this very moment in time, I don't have much to think about. School has been out for Spring Break for almost a week now, and let me say that I've been bored out of my mind. Everything has been so… repetitive. Uneventful. Tedious. Plain. Old. Boring.
I've always hated school breaks. When I was in middle school, I used to cry whenever we went on break, no matter if it was Summer Break or Thanksgiving Break. I hated them all, and I would cry and cry. My mom sent me to camp back then, so my mind quickly wandered from the thought of school. Now, though, all I've got is my thoughts and the shelter of my room. I'm not too much of a school fanatic or a huge nerd, but I do enjoy the mental stimulation. Also, I can't possibly be bored in school.
Dark clouds are starting to form outside my window. A storm must be brewing. A snowstorm, probably, even if it is spring. The weather here is always cold in this stupid town of South Park, Colorado, and sometimes it snows, sometimes it doesn't. You can't really tell until they actually downpour. Then again, it's always snowy here, so...
Watching storm clouds is the equivalent of watching paint dry on the boring spectrum. Usually, I enjoy it, but as of now… I can say otherwise. Not even watching out my window seems fun anymore.
I've played all the video games I got for Christmas at least seven times over by now. Kyle went to a Jewish stay away camp or something for who knows how long, so I have no idea if he is back from it yet.
You see, if my dad were here, he'd probably send me to some stupid camp with Kyle. He's always been on about me doing extracurricular activities. That's why I'm in football. I kind of enjoy it, but would much rather be gaming or causing shenanigans with my friends.
My dad took Shelley and some of her friends to see a bunch of boy bands for the break, which is good for me. I won't have to get involved in anything now.
I would ask my mom for advice on something to do, but she'd either go on this long spiel about what she used to do as a kid or make me do a bunch of chores. I'd rather sit around and do nothing than do a bunch of chores because honestly, chores are the epitome of the bottom.
She always makes me mop the floors or reorganize the magazine rack. I mean, there's a few of my magazines in there, an example could be a Game Informer, but there's also some of dad's magazines… I've seen Cartman's mom on a few of em'. Eric hates when anyone tells him this, but he knows already. He used to say that she was doing it for money, but finally, he's accepted that his mom is just a whore. Eh, we all knew that though.
I hear a bark from outside my door, and it leads me out of my thoughts. I don't want to get up and let my dog in, though, so I just wait for him to bark some more. Another bark echoes outside and a there's a few scratches at my door before a pause, almost like the creature outside is listening for my movements.
After a long, audible sigh, I flip over on my bed and get up and go over to the door. I open it, and my dog comes rushing in. He bumps into me and wags his tail before going straight over to my bed and, after a few attempts, finally climbing onto it. I roll my eyes at the poor, old pup.
Sparky is a pointer and bulldog mix. His fur is mostly light brown, with the exception of his head and stomach, which are dark brown. He's got a light pink scarf around his neck, which annoys the hell out of me, and green eyes. He's old, his knees creak, and I love him so much.
I've had Sparky since I was going into kindergarten. I got him on my fifth birthday. He was just a puppy. Naive, innocent, hyper, and jumpy. Now, of course, he's old and probably going to die soon, but he's still an amazing and adorable dog.
In third grade I found out that he was gay. It was weird, because I didn't know what being gay was, and that animals could be that way. I was confused, as was the rest of the town, but we all learned that it's totally fine. It doesn't matter if he is or not anyways. It's not like he's having puppies either way. Dad got his balls chopped off. Poor Sparky.
For my twelfth birthday, while I was in the 6th grade, my best friend Kyle got me a cat. I named him
Grinete, which is Norwegian for Grumpy. I was really obsessed with Norwegian in middle school. Don't ponder too long on the subject. I no longer am.
Grinete, Grin for short, is long hair Persian. He's grumpy, mean, and clingy. I got him when he was just a three-week-old kitten, and even then he was a nuisance. He ripped up the drapes in the living room in less than two hours!
I'm the only one in my family who he really loves, but he still treats me like complete and utter garbage. I love him, though. I mean, how can you not love a face as cute as his? It's flat and super funny because it's so different from Cartman's cat.
His fur is light grey, except for a white spot right above his pink nose. He has dark, chocolate brown eyes, cute little paw pads, and long, pointy ears. His tail is bobbed. We're pretty sure some animal bit it off, but we don't know 100%.
I went over to Sparky on the bed and pat his head. He looked up at me and wagged his tail a little before resting his head on his paws once again. He's really old and really frail. As stated before, he's probably gonna die soon. I mean, he's, like, 10 or 11 something like that, and that's pretty old. Poor dude. He's got enough problems that he probably wants it to be all over by now.
Sparky perked his head up again. I turned around to see Grinete stroll into the room lazily, his clumsy feet dragging on the carpet.
"Ah, leave him alone, Sparky. He'll just get you in even more trouble." I scratched the top of his head for a moment, calming him down. I went over to my dresser where Grinete was resting precariously on the top. He was chewing on the wire to my alarm clock that had been broken for a year. He had chewed through the wire so much already.
I put my hand on Grinete forehead and held it there for a prolonged amount of time. For some reason, all cats that I've met hate this, and he stopped chewing on the already broken wire and tried to back away from me. the poor thing fell from my dresser and zipped underneath my desk, where neither I nor Sparky could get to him.
"Stan?" I heard my mother shout. Ugh, what chore do I have to do this time?
I walked out of my room to go yell down the stairs to her, but she was strolling down the hallway to me. I turned on my heels and went back to my room, where I sat on my bed awaiting her two-second later arrival.
"Stan,"
"Yes, Mom?"
"You can't just sit around all break doing nothing. It's bad for you. Call someone to come hang out or something of that sort. See if Kyle wants to come over. Or, why don't you invite someone like… eh… Tweek?" My mother always makes a big fuss over me wasting my life away doing nothing but staring at a ceiling for thirteen consecutive hours.
"Kyle went to that stupid "Water Hills" camp for the spring, remember? And Tweek never goes anywhere without crying hysterically because of some stupid gnome or Craig not being there or some crap like that." I sighed, falling backward onto my sagging bed. I knew my mom would roll her eyes, but it was true. Tweek was a nut job. If the rest of us were brain dead, then Tweek would be… brain alive. Very very alive.
"Call Kyle anyway. He could be back for all you know!" My mom is way too enthusiastic about my social life. Seriously, can't she keep her nose outta my stuff?
"Matter o' factly, why don't you call all your friends over for a big slumber party? Doesn't that sound like fun?" I shook my head.
"No, not really."
"Well too bad. I want to see a whole big group of your friends. Oh, and you're inviting Eric. He comes over and throws rocks at the windows if you don't invite him." I put my hand over my face, really annoyed.
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to. Now, get to it, Stan!"
"They're all probably busy though, Ma."
"Call them, or I'll call all their mothers myself." I cringed. God, I didn't want that happening again.
"And don't you dare just make it so it's just you and Kyle. You need variety in your life. You can't just hang out with Kyle all the time." My mom walked away and closed the door behind her. I stuck out my tongue at the closed, white door.
I can hang out with Kyle whenever I want to! Whenever he's here at least...
What's the deal with Kyle, anyway? He hasn't changed much since grade school. Why does my mom suddenly feel like I've become "too attached" to him?
Jesus, I'm allowed to hang out with my best friend all the time. He's my super best friend after all. That title always stuck, even when people made fun of us for calling each other that.
I pull my attention away from the window, which I had somehow drifted to, and focused it on my phone. Hey, my attention is always on the window. My favorite window in the entire world, really. The drapes I have are red and clash with my blue room, but they're really great anyways. The counter is marble, and I had to put a pillow over it because I used to bump my head into it all the time when I was sleeping.
My phone is a black Samsung 6s with a blue case that has a football on the back left corner. Even though Eric always makes fun of Samsung for not being as good as Apple, I love the company more than most producers. If there were a poll between Apple and Samsung, I'd cast my vote towards the latter.
I reach over to my wooden nightstand where it is plugged in. I pull it from the white charger and pray that there's a text from someone. Even a text from Pip would work! I don't know how I actually obtained his number, though, now that I think about it…
Probably Damien.
When I turn on the screen, there's nothing there. No texts. No calls. No notifications. Nothing. I groan out loud.
I input my password quickly and, after a few attempts, I open the phone. My password is pretty simple. It's just four numbers, and those numbers are 7826. That's my name on a keypad.
Kyle's password is a bunch of letters and such. I don't want to give it out, but it's thirteen letters long. That's because he doesn't want anyone breaking into his phone. Not Ike, not his mom, and definitely not Cartman.
I open my contact list and click on Kyle's name. A picture of him wearing one of those stupid, fake mustaches and doing duck lips appeared on the screen, and I held back a laugh. I forgot that was his contact picture.
I had taken it at one of Token's parties. He has a lot of those, being rich and all, but it's very rare that Kyle and I go to them. Kenny and Cartman go to every single one but Kyle and I… we're a little more lenient.
This particular party wasn't as big as most of the ones he plans, but we had fun nevertheless.
I click the word call and put the phone up to my ear. I waited while it rang.
Once. Twice. Three times. Please pick up… Four times...
"Kyle speaking," A voice said from the other end. It made me smile because I was afraid I'd have to deal with Eric and Kenny and Tweek and all these people that I'm forced to invite all by myself.
"Kyle, your greeting is so stupid. You gotta find a better one. It is your personal phone, after all." The truth is, I love it and I don't want it to change. It always lets me know he's there and not someone else, because anyone else would answer with a "hello" or "hey" or something.
"Yeah, well my mom said I gotta answer like that. I don't know why she doesn't understand the concept of personal phones. It's just something she can't wrap her head around."
"Anywho, what's up?" Kyle asked, abandoning our previous topic. I suddenly felt uncomfortable , and switched my position from lying down to sitting Indian style.
"Nothing much. How was camp?"
"Lame. I had no fun at all."
"That's what I figured would happen."
"I mean, we got to go canoeing and stuff, but the only other person my age was a goth girl who completely ignored my existence."
"Ah, that sucks, man. Did you just get back today?"
"Last night, actually."
"Well, good. I have an idea. Actually, it was my mom's idea, but I'll take some credit for it." I heard him stifle a laugh on the other side of the phone, and that made me smile.
"My mom ordered me to call a bunch of people over for a sleepover because 'I'm not allowed to sit around all day staring out the window for seventy two hours straight.'" I mocked her tone of voice and did air quotations, even if he couldn't see me.
"I was wondering if you wanted to come sleepover, basically. You know, to keep me company while I have to sit through the hell-storm that is our group of friends." I await Kyle's response, nervous that he is going to reject my offer. I hope he doesn't. I can't stand a whole night with Cartman and Kenny without someone to back me up.
"Yeah, totally dude! Let me just check with my mom." I let out a sigh of relief. Kyle yelled something to his mom, and they conversed for a few moments before Kyle returned his attention to our call.
"Yeah, I'm allowed to come! I'll be over in a bit. I just gotta give Ike a bath." I did a silent fist bump into the air. Woo Hoo!
"Alright, see yah then, dude."
"See you." He hung up.
The picture of Kyle disappeared, and my normal contact list reappeared on he screen.
Now to get others to come. Fun.
-
First, I called Butters. He has an iPhone 5. A rose gold one with a purple and pink space case. Everyone calls him gay for having it, but I honestly think he doesn't care anymore at this point.
Kenny likes to call him Starboy and Buttercup. Cute, petty nicknames. Perhaps Kenny's massive crush on the little blondie wasn't as fake as I had always thought...
Butters's profile picture is of his pet rabbit Oreo. He set it himself, insisting that Oreo had a much better looking face than he did.
Our conversation somehow ended up on the topic of ducklings after ten minutes and, after faking that my mother was calling me, I hung up. He wasn't grounded for once in his life, so he'd be coming over. That was cool. His parents were very adamant about grounding him for dumb things. I feel bad for him a lot.
Butters isn't that bad of a kid. He's a little less naive, but not by much. He's still an innocent dumb fool, but a cute, innocent dumb fool that, let me tell you, Kenny wants to bang severely.
Speaking of Kenny, I called him next. At first, he thought I was offering him money, and he started yelling. I had to hang up and recall him and explain to him that I didn't say "money" I said "sleepover". They don't even sound alike?
I didn't hear his response as to whether he was coming over or not, as the signal had cut out, but I didn't want to call him again. I just assumed he was coming, as he was usually up for this type of stuff.
His profile picture is just a trash can. He told me that that trashcan was "actually him, bro". Dork.
Kenny is still such a dweeb. He still wants to have sex with literally every person in the world, too. It's really stupid. I mean, who would want a poor, malnourished, hunk of shit?
Oh and his phone, a Windows phone, sucks ass. I don't even know how he managed to afford a phone and pay for it's bill, either. Maybe he works at McDonalds or City Wok.
I called Clyde next. He's still annoying as hell but is pretty nice. He doesn't curse as much as the rest of us, and he's still a major crybaby, but he's kindhearted and means well.
His profile picture is a picture Kenny took of him after stealing my phone. It's blurry, but it looks as though Clyde was shoving a giant taco in his mouth. Per usual, really. It really fits him. He said he wasn't coming unless we had tacos for dinner. So, after informing my mom to order tacos from Del Taco, he happily agreed that he would come. I asked her for a salad after ending the call. Del Taco makes me puke my brains out.
Next, I had to call Tweek. Well, I didn't have to call him, but if I wanted Craig to come, Tweek had to be there. Honestly, everyone says they are dating. When anyone asks, Craig just shrugs, and Tweek starts screaming obscenities. It's hilarious. I really don't know I they are or not though? They probably are.
I know Tweek has a Samsung 8s, an even better phone than mine. Craig bought it for him. I mean, who else would? Not his parents. They don't care for him at all. I mean, he drinks coffee laced with meth because of them. Do you really think they care?
He didn't pick up the first time. I called him again and he picked up after seven rings. After having to confirm that I wasn't some "monster impersonating Stan Marsh", I asked him if he wanted to sleep over. He made me make sure that we had coffee. My mom drinks it, so I knew we had some, but I consulted the cabinet anyways. We do have a very large amount of boxes filled with coffee packages, apparently.
Well, he's coming. He had to hang up. He said something about "fire-breathing mosquitoes breaking through his window" or something like that. I really don't know. I don't pay attention to his musing of beasts and death and whatnot.
Tweek's profile picture is a picture I found on Craig's Snapchat. It's a picture of Tweek doing a peace sign, and Craig giving the camera the finger in the background. I liked it, so I made it the profile. They'd be really cute together, not gonna lie. I mean, they already act like a married couple, but still.
Craig. Craig. Craig. Craig, nasally voice, monotone Tucker. His contact name on my phone is actually "Cursing World Champion". He apparently curses the most in our town. I mean, I would expect that from him. He curses every other word. I'm surprised he hasn't been killed yet because of his foul language. Not to mention his "flipping the bird" problem. Sometimes I think he just does it subconsciously4.
His contact picture used to be a skull, but Tweek made me change it to a Guinea Pig because he said the skull was mean and the Guinea Pig was Craig's pet. It's name is like Stripes or Stripe or something like that. Craig was annoyed with me for calling him and inviting him over, but after telling him that Clyde and Tweek were going to be there, he finally obliged. I mean, I actually just told him about Tweek, but same difference.
Next, I called Token. As it turns out, he's actually pretty sick. Like, throwing up and migraines and snot sick. Disgusting. He said he wishes he could come, but he'd rather not infect anyone. No wonder he hasn't had any big parties yet. Poor dude. His profile picture is him dabbing. It's actually quite funny because he does it wrong. I mean, I don't know how to do it correctly myself, but at least I don't look like a fool.
As of lately, he's been obsessed with a series of books about cats. I don't know why the hell he would want to actually read anything, but apparently there's a lot of death, and they're supposed to be children's books. He gave a few to me, but I haven't started reading them yet. There's no way I'm reading over break, even if I am bored.
Lastly, I called Cartman. I had to. If I didn't, I'd have to spend another day repairing the windows he constantly breaks. He's super annoying and fat and did I mention annoying? We can't ditch him though. We're sorta stuck with him.
I don't even know why I have his contact or when I obtained it. His profile picture definitely wasn't set by me, as it's him with a terribly photoshopped body with abs. I promised myself I'd change it later.
He answered after the first ring, almost like he was waiting for me to call. He practically invited himself over when I mentioned the word "sleepover".
Fat bastard.
Now I'm just sitting at the dining room table, watching the window as I usually do. The rain is tumbling down from the sky, unrhythmically.
I'm waiting for someone to show up. It's been at least an hour since I've called Kyle, and he's still not here. That's pretty usual of him, actually. His mom was probably holding him hostage, making him finish all his chores that he was forced to do.
A knock on the door startled me from my reverie. Sparky started barking like a lunatic, and I had to grab him and put him in his cage before answering the door.
It was Kyle! At last! And he was soaked...
The fact that Kyle was wearing his green hat, or "ushanka" as he called it, didn't surprise me. Even still, after six years, he still had that stupid hat. And it still fit him! Outrageous.
Curly strands of ginger hair did stick out from under the cap, but he didn't care anymore. He wore an orange jacket that was zipped up so his shirt couldn't be seen. Jeans covered his legs and black sneakers were on his feet. He had a green bag slung over his shoulder containing his sleep necessities, and a dark green sleeping bag under his other arm.
He shuffled inside quickly, closing the door behind him. He stood there, dripping water all over the welcome mat.
"I can't believe my mom made me walk here in the pouring rain!" Kyle growled, placing his bag on the ground. He unzipped his orange coat and put it on the coat rack.
He wore a grey shirt with the Captain America shield on it. He'd been interested in superheroes ever since the fifth grade. I never really liked them all that much, even after I read one hundred and seven of the comics. Yeah, Kyle made me read a lot of them. Still, I haven't really been interested in them. Other than roleplaying as my wonderful Toolshed.
"Well, you do live only three houses over," I said. He rolled his eyes and took off his shoes.
"Well, she could have the decency to drive me here." He complained, grabbing his sleeping bag and shoving it into my hands before heading into the kitchen. I followed him over to the sink. He took off the ushanka that sat on his head and ringing it out. There was enough water in it to fill at least four tall glasses!
"How many people did you end up inviting?"
"Including you?"
"Sure."
"Eight, but Token is dying of some sickness or whatnot, so there's gonna be six others coming. Butters, Kenny, Craig, Tweek, Clyde, and Cartman."
"You invited Cartman?"
"No. My mom invited him. He throws stones at our windows if he finds out I do something and he isn't invited." Kyle finished ringing out his hat and placed it neatly back on his head. I took the bags I was holding, which I forgot about until that moment.
"Ah, that sucks," Kyle muttered.
"Where should I put my stuff?"
"Anywhere in my room I suppose." I said, not really caring if they were right in the middle of the floor or under my bed. We'd move them at some point anyways.
Kyle nodded, heading up the stairs. I watched him until he was out of sight. It's a habit I have. I watch everyone. Even my pets.
I went into the living room and slumped onto the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. I flipped through the channels and, seeing nothing else better on, I put on a rerun of Terrance and Phillip. The show had ended forever ago, but channels still played reruns of it because it was so popular, even if it was made in Canada. Kyle came back down and sat down next to me. Although I barely registered the action, he tapped my shoulder, and I turned to look at him. He handed me a coke, which I took gratefully.
Eventually, Cartman arrived with at least three different bags and his Taylor Swift sleeping bag. I find it very repulsive, but he says he's practically her biggest fan.
He had his usual blue and yellow hat, but it was lain messily atop his brown hair. He was hiding in a red hoodie, but it was a little small on him. Well, everything is a little small on him. He's fat. What else would he expect?
He's still an ass. Did I mention that? A big, fat, asshole.
Kenny arrived a couple of minutes later with barely anything other than an orange sleeping bag, which was probably made from his curtains just like his parka was. He still had that dirty rag, but he didn't mind it, although he wore the hood down a lot more. Like, a whole lot more.
Sometimes, I still was surprised by the sound of his voice not muffled, but I had mostly gotten used to it. Mostly.
At that moment, he did have the hood up. A few strands of blonde hair stuck out, but it's not like he actually took care of his appearance. He didn't have the time or money to. Besides, he usually just said that it didn't matter what he looked like, as everyone wanted him. I don't believe that for a second.
Clyde showed up a long while after. He was in the middle of chewing something when I opened the door. He explained he had just finished a giant cookie. I'm still very confused how he isn't as fat as Cartman. I mean, he is pretty chubby, but not, like, fat. I've never seen him as fat. Just… bigger. Not fat. He wore a white and red varsity jacket and a dark blue scarf. Basically what he usually wears. Kyle has never really liked Clyde. Not many people did, nor do for that matter, but I think he's fine. He tells pretty good jokes if you ask me.
Tweek and Craig had shown up together, like usual. Tweek was practically latched onto Craig's side, actually. Craig didn't really seem to mind it.
Tweek was holding a silver thermos with the Tweak Bros. logo on it in one hand, and with the other, he was holding Craig's hand. Of course, Cartman called Craig a fag, causing for him to get a middle finger to the face. Cartman just doesn't know when to shut up.
Tweek and Craig were mostly the same. Tweek was still an awful mess, but he'd gotten a little better. His hair was still a mess, and he still pulled at it and ripped it out. It was a little longer, but that just made it worse. At this moment, he wore a dark green button down shirt that was actually properly buttoned for once, although I suspect that's the work of Craig. He still twitches like a fucking madman, still screams and shouts nonsense, and gets terrified of literally everything.
Craig still wears his weird blue hat all the time, although all of us wear mostly the same things as we did when we were kids, so I can't blame him. He usually wears a blue jacket, but at the moment, it's draped over Tweek's shoulders, probably because Tweek never wears a jacket anywhere despite living in the coldest town on the planet. He's gonna end up dying and it won't be anyone's fault but his own.
Craig has a black shirt on, and it has a logo for a band called "Panic! At the Disco". He says they're really good. I should listen to them some time. He's carrying a blue duffle bag with a spaceship on it and a yellow duffle bag, which I'm assuming is Tweek's.
Butters was the last to arrive. He was excited to finally have a sleepover. Usually, he's grounded, which I think is absurd. He's sixteen! He wore a grey sweater over a mint green shirt and grey sweatpants, and he was carrying a dark blue bookbag and a yellow reuseable Publix bag.
Finally, everyone was here. I decided to get up off the couch and head upstairs.
"I'm heading upstairs if you guys wanna come." They all got off the couch. All of them. Every single one. It figures.
I climbed the stairs, everyone following. My door was open, which wasn't really usual, but I guess it was okay because everyone had been in there and put their stuff away. Well, away is a little broad. They had mostly thrown all their bags in the corner of my room.
All nine kids piled into the messy-ish room and sat down in various places. Clyde went and sat on the desk chair I had in the back corner of my room. It's stationed at my desk, which is next to my double bunked bed that my father got for me for my eleventh birthday. Cartman, usually spoiled, wanted the desk seat, so he pushed Clyde off onto the floor and sat in the white seat. The two bickered for a moment before Clyde finally gave up and just slumped next to him on the floor, leaning up against the desk itself. Kenny had sat himself on the other chair in my room - a rolly chair. I don't even know why I have it in my room, as I have carpet flooring.
Butters grew into a phobia of the floor. He hates it for some random, odd reason. He does everything to avoid touching it the best he can. He would wear shoes in the house. He'd ask to be carried. He'd climb on things likes desks and dressers. He really is a strange kid.
He prodded Kenny in the side, attempting to make him move, but it was really no use. Kenny didn't budge. Butters was about to wander off and just give up, but Kenny pat his lap, and Butters lit up like a lightbulb, and went over and sat on his lap, his legs crossed Indian style.
Kyle sat on the bed. Well, that's an understatement. More like Clyde and Kenny had picked him up and thrown him onto the bed from six feet away. He hadn't bothered to move, and was still lying on his stomach, his face buried in the sheets and covers.
Craig and Tweek sat on the floor together. Craig sprawled his legs out, but I hadn't known that until he stuck his middle finger up at me for accidentally kicking him. Tweek just giggled (giggled? What?) and continued to sit quietly, sipping his coffee. I, myself, sat down on my bed, pondering what to do.
"So what now?" Kyle asked, finally getting up from his previous position and situating himself next to me properly.
Now that I think about it, Kyle's always had this… ability to say whatever's on my mind. It's really strange...
"H-How about s-spin the bottle?" Butters asked quietly, probably hoping no one would hear him.
"Oh my god, Butters. Stahp being a fucking fag." Cartman rumbled, taking a sip of the Mountain Dew he had nabbed from the fridge downstairs at some point.
I rolled my eyes, and Craig flipped him the bird again. I think that is gonna happen a lot tonight...
"We're all boys, Butters." Cartman dumbly pointed out to Butters, whose face flushed.
"Oh, w-well I hadn't brought that into con-consideration. I w-was just th-thinking about par-party g-g-games." Butters lied.
"Ah, leave Buttercup alone, Cartman," Kenny mumbled, clearly annoyed with how Cartman was treating the tiny Blondie.
"Yeah well maybe if he'd stahp being a fucking fag then none of this would have happened!" Cartman growled.
"Girls, girls, you're both pretty. Can we move on now, please?" Kyle moaned, clearly as annoyed as I am by their stupid bickering.
Cartman stuck his tongue out but didn't say another word. Again, we fell into silence, still unknowing of how to entertain ourselves.
"How about Truth or Dare? Sure, it's kind of girly, but what else is there to do? Besides, we can play a twisted version! If you can't do the dare or truth, you gotta pay the asker five bucks, and the more people hand over money, the bigger the price gets!" Clyde clapped his hands together, enthusiastic.
"Clyde, that's fucking stu-"
"That's a good idea! Let's play that game!" Kenny said, interrupting Cartman. He probably just wanted the money though… He's still broke as fuck.
"We've got Kenny and Cartman in the room. This is going to fucking great." I whispered to Kyle, who snickered and nodded his head response.
"W-Who's gonna go first, fellas?" Butters asked shyly. He probably hoped it wouldn't have to be him.
Kenny tapped Butters on the shoulder and gave him a smile. Butters rolled his eyes and, probably gladly, let Kenny ask away.
"Clyde. Truth or D-." Kenny was interrupted by Kyle.
Why don't we ask the people on Stan's Tumblr for questions?" Kyle asked. He looked at him wide eyed
"Excuse me?"
"Well I don't have any followers, and I know you have a lot... We can ask them for questions!" Everyone fell silent, thinking over Kyle's suggestion.
"I don't see a problem with it," Craig monotoned from down below. I think this was the first time he had talked all night.
"Yeah, let's do that!" Kenny said, kicking his legs up a little. I rolled my eyes, but stood up and grabbed my laptop from off my desk and sat down on the floor. The other boys piled around me, moving chairs and scooting closer.
I logged into my Tumblr page and quickly typed up a post.
"Hello, my lovely followers-"
"That's lahme."
"Shut your fat ass, Cartman." I rolled my eyes at the two bickering, changing the beginning so Cartman would be satisfied.
"Followers of mine,"
"Much better."
"Followers of mine. I, Stan, am having a sleepover with a bunch of my friends. We plan to play truth or dare. However, there's two twists. One, we will be paying up for questions we won't answer and dares we don't do, and two, we're asking you guys for those questions and dares! So how about it? Let us know what questions you want us to answer and what dares you want us to do!" I finished up my speech, reading aloud the text I had written.
"Good! Send it out! I'll reblog it." Kenny said, whipping out his phone.
"Well," I said.
"Now we wait."
Please submit your questions and dares by commenting! 3