It was a late night in South Park. The sun was down and it was already five o clock at night. While the old people were already turned in, all the young people were out and about, making the most of this Sunday night.

One of those people was Stan Marsh, sitting in a Chinese restaurant, waiting for his girlfriend, Wendy Testaburger, to show up.

"Where is she," Stan asked himself, "I've been waiting here for half an hour."

Stan looked at his phone to see if he'd gotten any new messages and, aside from the annual link to an anti semetic porn site from Cartman, there were none.

Stan must have repeated this routine dozens of times by now: check his phone, look at the door, stare at his fingers, scratch his head, repeat.

But, as Stan was about to consider leaving, Wendy walked through the door and sat at Stan's table, across from him.

"Hi Stan," Wendy greeted, "Sorry I'm so late. I got caught up in homework and I completely lost track of time."

"It's fine," Stan reassured, "Don't worry about it."

"Have you gotten a chance to look at the menu yet," Wendy asked.

"I haven't even been served yet," Stan grumbled, "Even though I've been trying to get a waiter's attention since I got here."

"Yeah," Wendy acknowledged, "I've heard the service is terrible here."

"But the food here is pretty damn good," Stan asked.

"Where did you hear that," Wendy asked.

"Tweek told me about it," Stan answered.

"Oh yeah," Wendy remembered, "He's been on a roll lately. He's the one who recommended that pizza place to that almost gave everyone in class diabetes."

"It was just so good," Stan remembered, "Maybe we could go back one more time?"

"No," Wendy denied, "You remember what Dr Gouache said at the assembly."

"You know," Stan grumbled, "I'm sick of this poor service. I'm getting a waiter over here."

"How are you going to do that," Wendy asked.

"In the smoothest way possible," Stan reassured. Stan then grabbed a flowerpot off the table and threw it at a waiter. It hit him in the head and fell onto the ground, without breaking.

"Smooth," Wendy grumbled.

"Hi there Captain Throws Things," the waiter greeted, "Where's your annoying fat friend who thinks I don't know how to speak English?"

"He's not here tonight," Stan stated, "I'm here with my girlfriend."

"Oh," the waiter realized, "That's a very nice cardigan your wearing."

"Thank you," Wendy thanked.

"My grandmother has one just like it," the waiter stated.

"Ok, that was unnecessary," Wendy growled.

"No," the waiter stammered, "My grandmother really does have a cardigan like that."

The waiter pointed to the corner of the restaurant and Stan and Wendy saw a skeleton wearing a cardigan very similar to Wendy's.

"Oh," Wendy realized, "It looks lovely on her."

"I know," the waiter replied, "So, have you decided what you want?"

"We haven't even seen a menu yet," Stan interjected.

"I know," the waiter stated, "Here, customers order something they think we make and, if they're wrong, we make fun of them."

"That's ridiculous," Wendy yelled.

"I know," the waiter replied, "But, the food here is so good, nobody will ever complain."

"It does seem to be that way," Stan stated.

"Alright," Wendy began, "I'm ready. I'll have the almond chicken please."

"Almond chicken," the waiter yelled, "You think that just because we're a Chinese restaurant, we have almond chicken? I can't believe this! You are a horrible racist! You are as bad as the boy's fatass friend!"

"I'm sorry," Wendy apologized.

"Tell you what," the waiter exclaimed, "I'll just bring you a pile of noodles and butter."

"OK," Wendy stated.

"And what will you be having, sir," the waiter asked.

"I'll have a cheeseburger please," Stan requested.

"Alright," the waiter stated, "I'll have that right out."

As the waiter walked away, Wendy stated at Stan, dumbfounded.

"It's what Tweek got when he came here," Stan explained.

"I swear," Wendy exclaimed, "Only in small towns like this."

"Just remember," Stan reminded, "We're only here for one more year. After we graduate in May, we'll be free of this place. We can go wherever we want."

"Yeah," Wendy admitted, "It is nice to fantasize living in New York or Paris one day, eating foods you can't get anywhere else, sharing an apartment."

"Yeah," Stan thought out loud, "Maybe someday. Hey, after you finish your pile of noodles with butter, you wanna head over to the ice cream place?"

"That'd be nice," Wendy stated.