Caught in a Storm

It was 10:00 in the morning, and main street was closed. All of South Park had shut down for the day, anticipating a deadly storm. This was due to the fact that the weatherman had said it was going to be a wonderful day, w/nothing but good weather.

Tweek Tweak had just finished closing up the family cafe, and bracing himself, stepped out of the shop. The wind was already strong, and as he never bothered to put on a jacket, was freezing. Nearby, a couple of cars lay abandoned on the road—their owners fleeing for safety. Tweek himself was headed for the community center, where he was sure most of the town was huddled, waiting out the storm.

It soon started to rain. Lightly at first, but then it became a torrent, instantly soaking Tweek.

"Tweek!"

Tweek looked around. Had someone just called him?

"Tweek! Over here!"

Tweek still didn't see who was calling him. "Hello?" He called hesitantly. What if it was a kidnapper?

He started to run, which caused him to almost trip over a figure sitting on the curb.

"ACK—oh, wait...Mr. Derp? ...Is that you?"

Indeed it was, and the man looked up at him in surprise.

"Tweek? What are you doing out here?"

Tweek was taken aback. So Mr. Derp hadn't been the caller.

"Well, I could ask the same! I'm headed for the Center. Why are you sitting in the rain?"

Mr. Derp shook his head slowly, all traces of the somewhat masochism and dementia Tweek had known from school gone. "Oh, nothing, really. Since I was kicked out as cafeteria chef...I've been staying out here-"

"Nghno way—homeless? Shit! Um, I have no change!"

Mr. Derp looked at him calmly. "I wasn't going to ask you for any."

"Heeyyyy...no loitering allowed here!"

Tweek and Mr. Derp looked behind them to see a heavily wrapped Officer Barbrady glaring (Tweek assumed) at them from behind his shades.

"Oh, I'm actually going to the Center."

"I'm homeless."

"Dammit! Homeless?" Barbrady asked, taking out his gun and shooting Mr. Derp.

Tweek's eyes widened, and he backed away. "ACK!"

Barbrady put his gun away. "Well, goodbye, Tweek. Move it along, nothin' to see here." With that, the officer ambled off.

"Tweek!"

Tweek walked forward, the rain making it hard for him to find whoever was calling him. Farther down the street, he could see the shape of a kid waving at him. Was it...

"Pip?" He asked in surprise. "What-?"

Pip put a blanket around his shoulders, leading him into an alleyway. "Look, Tweek, you can stay at my place until this storm dies down. It's too dangerous to be out!" So saying, he gestured to a pile of boxes, the biggest of which had writing on it:

Phillip (Pip) Pirrup's House

It was in the box that he led Tweek. Inside was a rumpled blanket, a large portrait of a beautiful girl, along with several smaller portraits of various other people. An old book lay in one corner, titled Great Expectations. There was a makeshift shelf on one 'wall', with a box of cereal on it; school and notebooks lay piled under the shelf. Leaning on the shelf was a sword, and with it a bow and arrows, and boxing gloves.

"This is where you live?" Tweek asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," said Pip. "I usually have this all to myself, although occasionally another homeless person comes to sleep here for the night. Then I lend them one of my boxes."

"B-but I thought-"

Pip smiled. "Oh, my foster parents kicked me out."

Tweek sat down, clutching the blanket with one hand as he decided to not press the matter. "Who's the girl? She's pretty."

"Estella. My girlfriend—true love, if you will." Pip replied dreamily.

"And the others?"

"That's my sister, and that's Joe the blacksmith—my brother-in-law. Pocket, a good friend of mine who died recently."

"Oh..."

"He's a criminal turned gentleman. Those are my deceased parents, and those are my five deceased siblings."

"Jeez, Pip, you know a lot of dead people."

"Quite so."

Tweek stared at the weapons and gloves. "Since when did you box? ...no way. A real sword?"

Pip nodded proudly. "Fencing, archery, and boxing are among my few talents. Do you have a quarter?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Pip gestured to the sidewalk at the end of the alley. "To telephone Token, of course."

"What? Why?" Tweek questioned, handing over the quarter.

"You'll become ill if you stay here much longer." Pip said. "Token, so I heard, invited some of the other chaps to his house today. I'm sure he won't mind if you go too. They'll probably send someone over to pick you up."

Tweek watched as Pip left the 'shelter' of the alley to the phone booth nearby. Left to his own devices, he picked up the book entitled Great Expectations. Who was Charles Dickens, anyway? He vaguely recalled Mr. Garrison saying that the man had invented the phrase 'What the Dickens?'...Tweek flipped the book open to the first chapter, reading the first few lines. Then he stopped.

He looked outside to read the lettering on the box again. Phillip (Pip) Pirrup's House. He looked back at the page. No way. Coincidence. He started flipping through the rest of the pages. "Joe. Dead parents. Criminal. Pocket. Estella." He stared at the book in confusion. What was going on?

There came a rustling from the outside, and Pip reappeared. "Alrighty then, so Token agreed to send someone over to pick you up..."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Tweek asked angrily, holding the book up. Pip's face reddened, and he snatched the book away.

"I mean, you and all those characters share names? How am I supposed to believe that?" Tweek rambled. "I know this Dickens guy was real, but-"

Pip chose that moment to interrupt. "Oh, we don't share names. That 'Dickens guy' was a very nice man who agreed to document my story—on one condition. That he changed what really happened at the 'end' to something his readers would believe."

"But...wasn't he alive, like a couple of centuries ago?"

At this, Pip smiled mysteriously and said nothing.

The two boys sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain on the 'roof', watching it pour down on the outside.

"Do you get lonely, Pip?" Tweek asked quietly.

"Me? Oh, no, although I do miss Estella. After all, I go to school and see all the children every day."

"But nobody ever treats you nicely!" Tweek exploded. "Butters stopped playing with you to follow The 4 around, Damien set you on fire, people do shit to you all the time and you do nothing! At all! How can you stand it?"

Pip shrugged. "As it was said in the bible, 'turn the other cheek'. Besides, I'm not the only mistreated fellow—you should know. You were one of them."

Tweek looked away. "I didn't have it as bad as you did, though."

Pip opened his mouth to say something that was never said—a car horn sounded from the outside. "That's your ride." He smiled. "Timmy and Jimmy were picked up too, so you'll have company."

Tweek slowly put down the blanket and stood up. "You're not coming?" He asked, knowing the answer.

"I wasn't invited." Pip smiled sadly.

"But-"

The car horn sounded again. Tweek looked back at Pip, who stood in the rain, looking slightly forlorn. Going over, Tweek stuck out his hand. "Thanks Pip. For everything."

"It was my pleasure, old chap."

"Come to the cafe sometime, okay? You must not be eating very much...so from now on, you can eat there for free. Got it?"

"Oh, really, I couldn't-"

"Good." Tweek said firmly.

Pip suddenly grinned. "I bet you couldn't beat me in a boxing match."

"Oh really? You're on!"

"My place, tomorrow after school?"

"Definitely."

Tweek headed for the street, and upon reaching it turned and waved goodbye to Pip. "See you...Brit!"

Walking toward his expensive looking ride, he could've sworn he heard a laugh.