Stan awoke with a start, gasping as he awoke from a crazy nightmare. He'd been in the eye of a tornado as everyone he knew seemed to be being whisked away in a hurricane. All his schoolfriends, their moms and dads, all kinds of people he knew from around town- all being pulled up and tossed far beyond his reach or even his sight, probably to their deaths.
Recognising he'd only been imagining things, he sat up, breathed a sigh of relief, and then walked over to his dresser. In a sleepy daze, he sifted through his clothes, trying to find his familiar woolly blue hat, red gloves and blue jeans.
Slowly, he realized none of them were there. "Crap," he murmured. "I guess they're in the dryer." He hated wearing other stuff; most of it was either too cold or just didn't look or feel right. After a while of searching, he reluctantly settled on a green hat with ear flaps, green gloves and dark green jeans.
Then something clicked. "This... this is Kyle's shit!" he squeaked, confused and rather worried. What the hell was going on here? He shuffled over to the window... and saw a town which was not quite like he remembered. Hardly any snow on the paths, a few fluffy cloud-like specs flitting about in a field off of the farm, the back of a dented metal sign which he knew displayed the town name in large letters- but usually made of wood.
Feeling as if he was going mad, he put his fingers together to pinch one arm, hoping he'd feel no pain and wake up from his dream.
Ow. God damnit, that hurt more than he was expecting. In an instant, he exploded. "WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON HERE?!"
"What what WHAT?!" an unpleasant, but familiar, voice shouted from the hall. To his amazement, Kyle's mom opened the door grumpily. Unintentionally, Stan gasped. She was dressed in his own mom's brown top, and was a lot thinner than usual, but there was no doubt it was Mrs Broslovski, beehive and nasty temperament and all.
"Sorry, Mrs Broslovski-" Stan started.
"Young man, you watch your mouth!" she replied, cutting him off. "And it's MOM, thank you very much!" As the door slammed shut, Stan shrugged and began to pull on the unfamiliar clothes.
As he left his room, a bizarre voice from behind him growled, "Hey, turrrrrd!" The voice was just weird. It sounded kinda like... Terrance and Phillip?!
As he turned to face whoever it was, a young man much taller than him and presumably considerably older stared him down. Stan gulped, realizing why this guy was familiar. "Ike?" he responded, confused beyond comprehension.
"Ootta my way," the angry young Canadian scowled, pushing Stan back against his doorframe and heading downstairs. Normally he would've found the Canadian 'oot' a little funny, but he was too shell-shocked to even notice it.
Slipping out of the house without even grabbing breakfast, Stan trudged along the path until he came to the metal sign. Reading it just made him even more astonished, so much so he rubbed his eyes, looked away and back again, even kicked it. But all of it didn't change what the sign said.
'North Park'.