Bleh.
Butters was the first to arrive; his promptness never failed to impress and bewilder.
"Butters!" Wendy stepped back from the threshold, still in her apron. "You're … so early!"
"Gosh, I'm sorry!" Butters stepped inside, unwrapping his scarf from his neck, untucking his mittens from the sleeves of his parka, brightly wrapped package under his arm. "I thought I was exactly on time!"
"No, you are." Wendy glanced at the clock, sighing. "Perfectly on time, Butters, as always. Put your boots on the towel by the closet, and put your gift on the coffee table. And follow me to the kitchen. Since you're here on time and all." She thought about standing there to keep an eye on him, but if Wendy told Butters to leave his boots on the rug, that's where they'd end up.
When he followed her to the kitchen, she was pulling something from the oven.
"Gosh," he said, slipping into a seat at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. "Seems like you've made an awful lot of food."
"Yes, well." Wendy put down her tray on a trivet. "Be careful, Butters. Those are hot. … The pan is hot."
"Yeah, I'll bet." While her back was turned, Butters picked one up and ate it. He was trying to be stealthy, but when she turned around from the fridge with a jar of mustard in her hand, he realized he was caught. "Boy," Butters stammered, blushing. "I sure do love pigs in a blanket."
"We call them cocktail weenies." Wendy opened the jar of mustard, hot and spicy, and was scooping it liberally into a little ramekin.
"I guess there's no accounting for vocabulary," Butters said. "For instance, in the Stotch family, we say 'Yankee swap.' "
"Oh, do you?" Wendy recapped the mustard and floated to the fridge to replace it, and grabbed the ketchup. "I've never heard that one. We've always called it 'white elephant.' It's a Testaburger family tradition."
"Well, it's nice of you to include us all!"
"No, I mean." Wendy sniffed, pausing to squeeze ketchup into a second ramekin. "My parents are out of town this year. Key West. Um. New Year's Eve is their 25th anniversary."
"That's great! Congratulations."
"Yes, well. Don't congratulate me, congratulate them."
"Okay, I sure will. When do they come back?"
"Um. After New Year's, I guess. They, uh, left the day after Christmas."
"At least they were there for that," Butters said. "At least you guys still put up a nice tree. My parents, they think Christmas is just little kid stuff. They haven't put a tree up since I left for college. They say if I want to have a proper Christmas I should have my own family and invite them, they did it for 18 years and now they don't have to anymore. Because it's a little kid's holiday."
"Well, sure, some people think that." Reaching under the island, Wendy pulled out a platter. Hastily, she began tossing cocktail weenies onto it. "Not me, though. I love Christmas."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes."
"Because of the birth of the messiah?"
"Um." Wendy peeled the used tinfoil from the baking sheet, crumbling it in her hands.
"Well, sort of, but — not really. I guess it's just — it's such a nice idea, you know? All those pretty little lights and pinecones, and family, Butters. It's … it's really nice to have a family."
"It's sure something, huh?"
"Yeah," she said. "It's sure something. Will you be a dear and set this on the kitchen table?"
The kitchen table was serving as a makeshift buffet, and Butters set the pigs in a blanket down next to an elaborate cheese platter. There was a stinky blue and a vivid cheddar and a runny, oozing brie. "Boy," said Butters, picking up a water biscuit. "You've really outdone yourself! Who's gonna eat all this?"
"The 14 people who are coming, I hope." Wendy came over with the mustard and ketchup, which she set between a terrine of country pate and a bowl of homemade hummus. Using a water biscuit, Wendy took a bite. "You know," she said, chewing her cracker, "I didn't want to impose, but I should've asked you to bring something. If I recall, you're a pretty crafty baker."
"Oh yeah," he said. "I mean, thanks, but, gosh, I'm such a bonehead. I could have brought you all sorts of great stuff. I'm really sorry about that. I had this chocolate zucchini bread—"
"It's okay, Butters." Using a toothpick, Wendy speared a meatball. "Don't worry about it."
"I mean, I'm just dying to be a help."
Just then the doorbell rang.
"Oh," said Wendy, stepping back and clutching at pearls she wasn't wearing. "You can be a help by getting that, please, thanks."
"Of course!" Butters issued a little salute before running off to get the door.
XXX
Wendy's house was no smaller than anyone else's in South Park, but it felt cramped with all of her guests, mostly former classmates from elementary, middle, and high school. Jimmy had brought his girlfriend, who'd come to visit South Park for New Year's, but she was the only unknown. No one was surprised that Jimmy had a girlfriend, as he'd always been a little flirt. Her name was Shauna, and she looked like she was about to have a stroke. She spent the start of the party cornered by Butters.
"Jimmy's a great guy, isn't he?" Butters was saying, swirling his beer can around to no effect.
"Yeah," she said. "Wonderful. Um."
"He came late, you know."
"He what?"
"He came to South Park late, um, later than the rest of us, in fourth grade."
"Oh."
"Your hair's real nice." Her hair was nice, long and glossy chestnut, minimal split ends. Butters tugged on a strand. "I wish I could get mine all nice like this."
"Thanks." Shauna pulled away. "Is this thing gonna start soon?"
"Yeah, probably, not for a while. You want me to get you some chips? Oh, I can introduce you to people!"
"That's okay. Where's Jimmy? I think I'll go find—"
Butters followed her into the kitchen, where she disappeared behind the oven into a cluster of people. Butters felt a hand on his shoulder and turned.
"Are you chasing after Jimmy's girlfriend?" Kenny had a lazy half-smile on his face, weary but encouraging. "You sly dog. You do look about the same size. Maybe you can swap shirts."
"Yeah, well, I wanted to introduce her to some people, maybe get her some chips."
Kenny slipped an arm around Butters' shoulder. "I think if she leaves this party not knowing anyone's name, good for her. Do you need another beer?"
"No, mine is—"
"Well, I do, so let's go get one."
At the fridge, Wendy was talking to Token.
"Hey girl," Kenny said. Then he turned to Token. "Boy. Boy-girl. What's going on here?"
Wendy crossed her arms. "We're talking, Kenny, Jesus."
"Cool, that's cool. Butters and I need beers."
"No I don't, Kenny, I'm okay with this one. I'm a lightweight."
"I need two beers," Kenny corrected.
"Sure." Token reached into the fridge, pulling out two cans of Keystone. "If this qualifies as beer, then here you go."
"Yes, well." Kenny cracked one open, then wiggled the tab off. He handed it back to Token. "It'll have to be good enough for me, I guess. Here, make a necklace out of this."
"You're drunk," said Wendy.
"I assure you, having just driven here from Thornton, and valuing both my life and the lack of DUI arrests on my record thus far, I am not drunk. Not yet. I do, however, intend to become drunk shortly."
"Jeez, Kenny." Butters stepped out from behind Kenny, holding his drink between his hands like a prayer candle. "You've been here for all of 10 minutes."
"Twenty," Kenny corrected, "and I'm bored out of my mind."
"Thanks a lot!"
"Sorry, Wends, but I hate this shit. Can we play soon?"
"No. We're missing, ugh, Stan and Kyle. We can't play until everyone's here!"
"Ah, fine, you're clearly too busy flirting your ass off to do anything for serious."
"We are not," said Token.
"Not what?" This was the disarming whine of Eric Cartman, and it made all four parties standing in front of the refrigerator groan.
"Gentlemen," said Cartman. "And Butters."
"Wendy's here too," said Kenny.
"I said, gentlemen," Cartman repeated. "And Butters."
"Hey Eric," said Butters.
"What do you want?" Wendy asked.
"I can't tell you what I want, as that would expose a certain vulnerability, and I'm not going to let you see any signs of weakness," Cartman snapped. "But it's obvious what you want." He eyed Token up and down.
"Grow the fuck up," she said, pushing her way out of the group.
"Well." Cartman licked his lips as she walked away. "Good luck with that, Token."
"Thanks," he said.
Cartman's hand slammed against the refrigerator, next to Token's head. "So you admit it!" he barked.
"Admit what?" Token asked. "Man, I'm not with Wendy. I've got a girlfriend at school."
"You're sure?" said Cartman.
"Yes, of course. How would I not be sure? It's like you guys don't know me at all."
Cheeks turning pink, Cartman said, "Well, I hope we're all ready for a rousing game of Jew swap. I'm leading it, of course."
"Of what?" Kenny asked.
"Jew swap," said Cartman.
"You mean white elephant?" Token asked.
"What the hell is white elephant? No one calls it that."
"No one calls it Jew swap!" said Kenny.
"Yeah, uh huh, they do, because, um, it's a game about stealing stuff, so—"
Kenny rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I don't care. Come on, Butters." Kenny yanked Butters away from the fridge with one hand at Butters' shoulder, a beer in his other hand and another tucked under his arm. They spun into the living room, past Craig, who was standing in the doorway, scowling. It was the same facial expression he'd been wearing since roughly sophomore year of high school, barely concealed by the hoodie he was wearing.
"Hey Craig," said Kenny. "So glad you could make it."
"Whatever," Craig said.
"Nice hoodie," said Kenny. "Indoors. At a party. Who does that?"
Craig's only response was to give Kenny the finger.
"Well," said Butters, as they walked away. He put his empty beer on a nearby buffet. "Glad Craig could come. Wendy is — she really throws a nice party."
"Yeah," said Kenny. "You need another beer?" He cracked one open, handing it to Butters. "Listen. I — fuck. Butters. I'm so fucking sorry to ask this. But. You know how you had that job at that bakery over the summer?"
Butters blinked. "Yeah, I know! It was nice. Learned good stuff." He took a sip. "Why?"
"Because." Kenny bit his lip. He took a deep breath. "I really need to borrow $500."
"What?" Butters somehow managed not to spit out a mouthful of beer. "Kenny, why? You're not — oh, god, are you having problems with something?"
"Yeah, but — but not, like, anything you'd probably assume I am. It's for a registration fee at school. I swear, I really do. I can show you the bursar's bill tomorrow, if you want. My scholarship doesn't cover it and I owe them $8,000 already, and that's before loans. I just — if I can't register, I can't take classes, and if I can't take classes, I can't graduate. And seriously, Butters, I can't afford another semester of tuition. I just—one more semester, I'm so close—"
"Shh, Kenny." Butters patted his shoulder with his free hand. "I'm — so sorry, Kenny. My money, I put it in a CD, so." Butters lowered his voice. "It's not liquid, so. I—"
"It's okay, Butters." Kenny sighed. "It was a long shot."
"Something'll happen," said Butters. "I'm sure."
"Sure it will." Kenny shook his head.
The doorbell rang.
"That had better be Stan and Kyle," said Kenny, "because I do not want to wait a second longer."
"Let's go answer the door, then," said Butters. "I'm getting pretty antsy, too."
Stan and Kyle, it seemed, had only brought one gift.
"You guys," said Kenny, and Butters volunteered to take their coats. "You seem to be doing it wrong."
"How?" asked Kyle.
"You're supposed to bring one gift each," said Kenny.
"Yes, we did," said Stan, holding theirs aloft. It was a box taller than it was wide. "See?"
"I'm just gonna go hang these up," said Butters, slipping away.
"Well, it's not some couples' party," said Kenny. "Except for Jimmy and some chick he brought, you're the only couple here."
"That's okay," said Kyle.
"We don't mind," Stan added.
"You guys seem not to understand. It's one gift per person."
"We are one person," said Kyle.
Kenny laughed in his face.
"Get out of my face," said Kyle, pushing Kenny away. "You smell like the shittiest beer."
"And Stan doesn't?"
"Stan smells really nice," said Kyle.
"I smell like pine," said Stan.
"We were sitting by the Christmas tree. You know, at Stan's parents' place."
"Oh god, I bet you were fucking under it."
Kyle blushed, and Stan shrugged.
"Oh, fuck," said Kenny. "Really? At your parents' house, really?"
"They took my sister to dinner," said Stan.
"It was good," said Kyle. "Except I got these fucking needles in my—"
Kenny walked away.
XXX
They all gathered in a circle in the living room, scraps of paper with numbers scrawled on them in their hands. "Okay!" Cartman bellowed. "We all know what we're here to do, right? When I call a number, beginning with one, you get up and you pick a gift. It can be a gift off the table. Or, if someone has already opened something you want…" Eric's eyes narrowed. "…you steal it from them. That's how you play Jew swap."
"What did you call it?" Clyde asked.
"Jew swap," said Cartman. "Now, the most important rule of Jew swap is, I am in charge. So you understand, anything I say about Jew swap goes."
"Hey!" said Kyle. "I thought it was called Yankee swap."
"No," said Cartman. "That would be offensive to Yankees."
"We're all Yankees, dumbass," said Kyle. "Colorado was in the Union."
"We call it white elephant," said Wendy.
"Whatever," said Cartman. "Just, you know, things can only be stolen three times, and like, I have the authority. Okay? Now. Who's one?"
Tweek stood. He approached the table, reaching for a package with trepidation, his fingers trembling around its little form.
"All right," Cartman barked, shoving Tweek out of the way. "You touched that one. It's yours."
"Wait a minute." Wendy was standing in the corner of the living room, by the Christmas tree, her arms akimbo and her mouth rigid. "I mean, Eric, there's no need to rush him."
"Like hell there's not! There's 14 other people here who need to go!"
"It's supposed to be fun! We're not rushing through this just to get it over with. That defeats the purpose!"
"Look, if you want to be here until 3 in the morning, all right, that's fine." Cartman crossed his arms, glaring down at Wendy. He towered a foot above her, and seemed imposing even across the room.
Wendy tightened her mouth, and looked down.
"Okay, fine. Be that way, bitch."
"It's fine," Tweek muttered, stumbling back to his seat. "I'll open it, I don't care. I can always trade up for something better, right?"
"Assuming there is anything better," said Craig, scooting away from Tweek as he sat.
"That's what you think, Craig," Eric sneered, licking his front teeth. "You only wish."
"I don't wish, I don't care."
"You fucks all need to shut up," said Kenny.
"Yeah, man." Stan tucked his legs underneath him. "Don't ruin this for the rest of us."
"Exactly what this game needs, some Pollyanna faggot shit."
"You guys!" Wendy kicked the wall with the bottom of her heel. "Tweek, go ahead. Open your gift."
Tweek very carefully peeled away the wrapping paper, removing each piece of tape with careful authority; when he was done with the paper, he balled it and set it aside. "This is taking forever," Cartman moaned, but Tweek was not deterred, finding inside a small green tin box decorated with reindeer.
A girl cleared her throat. "There's something inside," she said. It was Jimmy's girlfriend, blushing hard.
"Oh," said Tweek, loosening the lid. "Very nice." He pulled out a jar of lingonberry jam. "Oh," he repeated, reading the label. "That's super nice, thanks."
"It's from a bakery in my hometown," she said, clinging tighter to Jimmy.
"Neat, I think that's neat, thanks."
"Are you from Switzerland?" Clyde asked.
Kyle felt the need to interject. "Lingonberries are a Swedish thing."
"I'm from Minnesota," Shauna said.
"It's got a sizeable Swedish population," Jimmy added.
"Great, well." Cartman made a display of yawning loudly, falsely. "That was super cool, thanks. Who's next?"
"What number are we on?" asked Clyde.
"We are on 2," said Cartman.
"Thanks man," said Clyde. "Man, this game is hard. Who can keep track?"
"We're on 2," Craig repeated.
"Oh, hey." Kenny stood up, holding his slip of paper in front of him. "I'm 2."
"Okay, great, this'll be interesting. Hurry the fuck up, Kenny."
"Eric!" Wendy's face was red. "Stop bullying my guests!"
"It's not my fault you're hosting the least efficient game of Jew swap ever."
"That's not what it's called!"
"That's what we call it in my family."
"Nobody calls it that."
"I do, Kyle. I call it that."
"Oh, wow, I'm shocked."
"Both of you shut the fuck up," said Kenny. He dug into the pile, pulling out the largest package.
"Oh," said Cartman. "Figures Kenny would pick the biggest thing."
"Ugh." Kenny knelt down, blocking out the commentary. He ripped off the paper, an iridescent snowflake pattern on a black background, and revealed a plastic carrying case, rounded at the edges, with a handle and a latch. It was pink and pearlescent. "What the fuck," he muttered.
"That's mine!" said Bebe. "It's a Caboodles."
Kenny turned to her. "A what?"
"It's like a thing you put makeup in," said Wendy.
"We all had them," Red added.
"I never had one," said Jimmy's girlfriend.
"There's stuff inside," said Bebe. "Open it."
" 'Kay." Kenny unlatched the case, and lifted the hinged lid. A tray swung out. Kenny picked out a tube of lipstick from among the two dozen or so that were in there. "Uh, okay." He uncapped it. "Oh, magenta. That's nice, Bebe. Thanks."
"There's more," she said. "Keep going."
"Okay." Kenny pulled out several compacts, but he didn't open them. At the bottom, he found a balled up wad of fabric. He pulled it out. "What the hell," he said, looking to Bebe. She said nothing, just stood there smirking, with her arms crossed. Kenny turned to the other girls, but Red was hiding giggles behind her hands, and Wendy had a broad grin on her face, as if Kenny were untangling some unknown girl secret, unfurling, dangling from his fingers.
The room erupted into giggles.
"What?" Kenny asked.
"Dude," said Stan. "That's a thong you're holding." It was pink and lacy, with a little green bow at the back.
"I know that." Kenny blinked. "So?"
"So?" Cartman was almost panting for breath, he was laughing so hard. "So? That's a girl's underwear, Kenny."
"I just don't see what's uproarious about it. I mean, I'm not 12, and I have a younger sister, so it's not like I don't know what underwear looks like."
"They're probably filthy," said Craig. He wasn't laughing, but there was an amused bent to his voice, the kind he developed when he gloated.
"Like I give a shit." Kenny stuffed Bebe's panties back into the case, slamming it shut and re-latching the lid.
"Maybe someone will steal it back from you," Jimmy suggested.
"Not fucking likely," said Craig. "I'd rather have jam than some chick's used makeup from grade school."
"Hey!" Bebe put her hands on her hips. "Some of that makeup's really nice. Some of it's Benefit! And there's some Smashbox in there, too."
"Then why'd you get rid of it?"
"Well," said Bebe. "It's from middle school."
Kyle said, "I bet there's lots of old germs in there. I bet it's a breeding ground for bacteria."
To this, Jimmy's girlfriend said, "Yuck."
"Great, then, thanks," said Kenny. "Great, I can really use this sweaty thong and bacteria lipstick. Thank you, Bebe." He took a swig of his beer.
"If you don't appreciate it I'll steal it back on my turn—"
"Enough of this crap," Cartman bellowed. "Who's three?"
"I'm three," said Wendy, stepping forward.
"Then be my guest."
"Gladly." Wendy sniffed at she walked past Cartman, seizing a box wrapped carefully in dyed peach paper, strung with a thick cream bow. "This is so lovely!" she exclaimed, loosing the ribbon.
"I bet some girl wrapped that," said Token.
"You think boys can't have nice wrapping skills?" Red asked.
"I didn't mean anything by that."
Wendy peeled the peach paper from the box, folding it carefully and setting it aside, revealing an immersion blender, which she pulled from the box in pieces, the casing in pink for breast cancer awareness. It seemed slightly used.
"Definitely from some chick," said Craig.
"Actually." Stan crossed his arms.
Kyle sat up straighter. "That's ours."
"Well." Wendy closed and patted the top of the box. "It's mine now."
"Only if no one steals it back from you." Cartman shook his head. "Should've figured who that came from."
"Hey!" said Kyle. "There's nothing wrong with knowing how to wrap a gift nicely!"
"It's only decent," said Stan.
"People like nice gifts," Kyle added.
"Presentation is half the present."
"The word 'presentation' is half present. Surely that means something!"
"What did you guys even use that for?" Kenny asked.
"Oh, for soups," said Kyle.
"But Kyle got me a nicer one for Christmas."
"You can really make a lot of nice sauces."
"I made a butternut squash soup for Thanksgiving, actually. I got a lot of compliments. My mother thought—"
"That's enough!" Cartman barked. "No one cares about you fags and soup. This game can't go on forever. Who's four? Get up there!"
Clyde stood, and walked over to the pile, plucking a small, awkwardly shaped package wrapped in pale blue. "I brought something small," he said, "so I'll take something small."
"No one cares, Clyde." Cartman shoved him back toward his seat. "You should open it. Quickly."
Shrugging, Clyde tore the blue paper off, letting it fall to the ground. "Oh," he said. "Um, cool. Condoms. Nice."
"And lube," Red added. "That's mine, and there's lube, too."
Craig rolled his eyes. "It's too bad you don't have a girlfriend, Clyde."
"Why, because my dick would be so big she'd need to lube it up to squeeze it in?"
"No," said Craig, "because I know you're just going to jerk off into those and bury them in the yard so your cleaning lady doesn't show them to your mom again."
"Fuck you!" Clyde cried.
Token giggled beside them.
Cartman sighed. "Five," he said. "Come on, who's five?"
Butters stood. "That'd be me!" He held his slip of paper aloft, and then walked over to Cartman and stuck it in his face. "See, Eric?"
"Butters!" Just pick a gift and let's go."
Choosing a flat box in candy cane paper, Butters sat back in his seat cross-legged. He balled up his paper nicely and handed it to Kenny, who threw it on the pile of other present-wrapping trash. Butters' gift was in a nice white box, flat and narrow, and when he lifted the lid, there was a layer of tissue. He pulled it open carefully, and peered down at his gift.
"What's this?" he asked.
Token cleared his throat. "It's a cigarette case."
"Gee, thanks, Token," Butters said, picking it up gingerly. He ran his fingers over the hinges, and the design etched into the cover. The case glinted, yellowish under the Christmas lights over Butters' head. "But I don't smoke."
"It can hold other things," said Token. "Open it."
"But I—"
"Here," said Kenny, snatching the case from Butters. "Allow me."
"Thanks." Butters buried his head in his hands.
Kenny's eyes widened as he opened the case. "Holy shit."
"What?" Butters peered out from between his fingers.
"Butters," Kenny breathed. "Holy fuck. Token."
"Give it back, Ken," Butters urged. "I wanna know what's inside."
"Fuck." Kenny swallowed. He was shaking. "Here you go." He handed the case back to Butters, biting his lip.
"What is it?" Between Butters' thumb and forefinger dangled a small baggie of white powder.
"Dude," said Stan. "Butters."
"Token," said Wendy. "What the fuck?"
"Well. You did say to bring something we had lying around the house."
"Well." Craig sat up, cracking the fingers of his left hand against his right palm. "This seems to have finally gotten interesting"
Butters asked, "Am I missing something?"
Kenny sighed. "It seems, Butters, you missed our fourth grade drug education class, or at least the unit on coke."
Butters nearly dropped his baggie, and the cigarette case. "What!"
"Yes, it seems Token's brought, mmm." Kenny shut his eyes. "What is this, dude, about $500 worth of cocaine?"
"It's heroin, actually," said Token, his face completely impassive. "And it's good."
"Fuck," said Kenny. He licked his lips. "It's probably worth more, then."
"Since when do you do heroin?" Clyde asked.
"Since never! I don't do heroin. I just said I had it in the house. Where do you think the family fortune came from?"
"The record industry," said Craig.
"Isn't your mother an organic chemist, or something?" Kyle asked.
"Anyway, Butters," said Token. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry fucking Christmas!" Kenny repeated. "Jesus Christ."
"Ken," said Butters. "Isn't $500 what you need to pay the registrar?"
"Well, yeah," said Kenny.
"Then why don't we trade?" said Butters. "I could use what's in your case, maybe, and while I wouldn't want you selling drugs, maybe just once—"
"I'd trade you, sure, Butters, if you could—"
"No trading!" Cartman stomped his foot against the carpet. "Godammit, that's not the rules! There's no trading in Jew swap!"
"And even if you did trade," said Kyle, "it might be taken away again."
"It's no use trying to get your blender back," said Wendy.
"I told you, Kyle got me a new one."
"Just give Kenny his coke after the game, okay, so we can get on with this," Bebe suggested.
"You guys!" Wendy wailed, and room erupted into arguing.
"Shut up!" Cartman bellowed. "Everyone, just shut up! We are on number six! Who is number six?"
"Oh," said Jimmy, standing up. "That's me."
"Then walk over to the — no. That'll take forever." Cartman moved toward the pile "I'll pick for you," he said.
"That's okay," said Jimmy. "I want to steal the cigarette case."
"Thank god," said Butters, standing up to give Jimmy his prize.
"Jimmy!" Shauna exclaimed. "Why do you want that?"
"I just think it's neat."
"That's drugs!"
"Yes, and a solid gold cigarette case!"
"I won't have marital angst in my game," said Cartman. "So either you two shut up, or get the fudge out. Butters! Pick again."
"I'm not taking any more chances, Eric. I'll take the blender."
"See," said Kyle.
"People really love immersion blenders," said Stan. "You're going to be so happy, Butters. They're really useful."
"I've kind of wanted one for a while." Butters slipped off his chair, and wandered across the room to where Wendy was standing. "Sorry," he said, bending over to pick up the box. He was blushing.
"Don't worry about it."
"What do you think you're going to make with it?" Stan asked. "Soup?"
"Oh, sure," said Butters. He was padding back to his seat with his blender. "All kinds of soups."
"What kinds?"
"Oh, let's see." Butters began to count them off on his fingers. "Tomato, tomato-basil, tomato cream, carrot, carrot-ginger…"
"Stan!" Kyle barked. "Why do you care what kind of soup he makes?"
"I'm just going to miss my blender, is all," said Stan.
"…cream of celeriac, cream of potato…"
"I got you a perfectly nice new blender, though."
"Yeah, it's nice, I really like it. Thanks."
"…pumpkin, um — cauliflower…"
"Butters!"
Butters froze in his seat when Cartman screamed his name. "Yes, Eric?"
"No one cares about your soup agenda. Wendy, pick again."
'Okay," said Wendy. She braced herself and walked over to the pile, choosing a floppy newspaper bundle. "This one looks unassuming."
"That one's mine," said Kenny, "and when I wrapped it I assumed I'd be drunker than this by now." Kenny cringed when he received a few chuckles.
"Oh." Wendy tore into the paper, producing a pair of greenish-gray medical scrubs.
"Oh, Jesus," said Stan.
"Oh Jesus what?" asked Craig. "They're just some shitty scrubs."
"I'd know those scrubs anywhere, though." Stan grinned widely. "I mean, that's pretty funny. That's pretty funny, Ken."
"That was all I could afford to get rid of," said Kenny, kicking at the pile of discarded wrapped paper and newsprint in front of him. A bow went flying across the room, where it landed at Cartman's feet.
Wendy turned her scrubs around. On the back pocket they bore an inscription, I had a rocking great time at KYLE'S BAR MITZVAH, in Comic Sans. "I don't imagine anyone wants to steal these from me?"
"I would!" said Kyle. "Listen, those are quality pants!"
"Kyle," said Stan, "your parents have, like, four boxes of those in the basement. And besides, how are we supposed to share one pair of bar mitzvah scrubs?"
"See, this is the problem with the sharing system, with you guys playing together."
Kyle's face was red. "Oh, shut the fuck up, Kevin! What are you even doing here? Didn't you die in, like, eighth grade?"
"What? No, of course not, how could I be here if I'd died?"
"The man raises a good point," said Kenny. "An astute point."
"And what the fuck are you doing, laughing at my scrubs?" Kyle turned to Stan and punched him in the shoulder.
Rubbing his shoulder, Stan looked uncomfortable. "I'd say 'ow,' if you didn't punch like a girl."
"Fuck you!" Kyle buried his head in his hands. "Why am I always the joke?"
"You're not a joke, okay, it's just those scrubs are kind of awkward 10 years later—"
"Fuck you!"
"God dammit! I said no marital discord in game!" Cartman pointed toward Kyle and Stan. "If you're going to conduct yourselves so blatantly in contempt of the rules of Jew swap, I'm kicking you both out!"
"Stop calling it Jew swap!"
"Like you know anything about Jew swap, Kyle. You're a Jew! Jews can't play Jew swap!"
"Watch me," Kyle growled. "I'll fucking win Jew swap!"
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Kyle," said Stan, yanking on the hem of Kyle's shirt. "It's just some fucking game."
"Yeah, and games have winners," said Cartman.
"Not all games!" said Wendy.
"Yes, all games," Cartman spat. "If not, then what's the point of playing?"
The room was silent for a moment. Then Butters stuck out his hand. "To have fun?"
"I choose not to acknowledge that," said Cartman. "We're on seven. Who's seven?"
"I'm seven," said Bebe.
"Then have at it."
Bebe chose to steal the cigarette case. "I could carry my ID in this," she said, plucking it from Jimmy's grasp.
"Oh yeah?" said Wendy. "And what about the heroin?"
"I'd sell it," said Bebe.
"I'd take it for free, if you didn't want to get in trouble for dealing," Kenny offered.
"That's sweet," she said, "but I think I'd rather have the money."
"Then be careful that doesn't get stolen again," said Craig.
"If it does," said Cartman, "that's the last time, because an item can only be swapped three times."
"You just made that up!"
"Nuh-uh, Kyle, it's traditional Jew swap rules."
It was Jimmy's turn to pick again, and he chose a plastic grocery bag, knotted at the top.
"Someone really didn't waste their time on this," he said, pulling apart a small hole in the bottom.
"Yeah, well." Craig sounded painfully bored. "This whole game's a waste of time, so."
"So this is yours?"
"Not anymore, it's not."
Craig's shopping bag was stuffed with a handful of old AA and AAA batteries, a lime-green tie with a Christmas-light pattern printed on it, and a retainer case. When Jimmy opened it, a grow-in-the-dark blue-and-pink marbled retainer fell out. "Is this your retainer?" he asked.
"No," said Craig, "mine's in my desk at school. I think that one's my sister's. I found it under the sink in the bathroom this morning."
"Maybe she needs that, though."
"Whatever." Craig shrugged. "The invitation said to bring shit in the house. Merry Christmas."
"I like this tie, though," said Jimmy.
"Great." Craig shuddered. "I'm glad for you. Merry Christmas." Craig didn't seem very glad, but Jimmy handed the tie to Shauna, who rolled it up for him.
Number eight was Token. "I'm not expecting anything amazing," he said, approaching the pile.
"I don't know," said Kevin. "My gift's still in there."
Token picked a slim package that was obviously a stack of two or three DVDs; the shape and the weight was telling. The gift was wrapped in purple cellophane and tied with a piece of craft raffia. "Nice wrapping," said Token. He spread out his loot, a set of three films: 17 Again, Charlie St. Cloud, and High School Musical 2.
"Oh my god," Red squealed. "Zefron."
"What?"
"Zack Efron," Bebe clarified. "Those are all Zac Efron movies."
"Who's Zefron?" Token asked.
"Zac Efron," Wendy repeated. "Those are from me, sorry."
"They're mostly unopened."
"Yeah." Wendy shrugged. "They're not very good movies."
"This kid looks like an android."
"He is an android," said Craig.
"He's not, like, a great actor or anything," said Wendy.
"But he's not bad," said Stan. The whole room looked at him. "What?"
"He's not bad?" Kyle sat up very straight, so straight that with his hair wild and voluminous, he seemed taller than Stan, which everyone knew wasn't the case.
"Yeah, haven't you seen High School Musical?"
"Maybe in, like, third grade or something."
"He's not bad."
"What do you mean he's not bad?"
"He's not good, he's not bad," said Stan. "He's a marginal actor, he's kind of hot—"
"He's kind of what?"
"He's good-looking, okay?" Stan was beginning to sweat. "In, you know. The most basic, banal, good-looking way."
"What." Kyle slid off Stan's lap. "Are you trying to say."
"Forget it, never mind. Nothing of consequence."
"What did I say about marital discord?" said Cartman.
Kyle ignored Cartman entirely. "Forget it is right. Someone needs to switch seats with me. Butters, switch with me."
Butters recoiled. "Kyle, I dunno—"
"I'm not sitting with Stan anymore."
"What?" Now Stan hopped out of his seat. "Why?"
"Because you obviously don't see any value in me," said Kyle. He was backing away, slowly. "Because you needed to give away our immersion blender. Because you made us late with your fucking Christmas tree sex. Because you laughed at my bar mitzvah pants. And especially because of Zac Efron."
"You just bought a new immersion blender!"
"I know! But couldn't you be a little sad about getting rid of the old one?"
"I did say I was sad! I just said I was going to miss the old one! Like five minutes ago!"
"But that still doesn't explain Zac Efron!"
"I don't know what there is to explain!"
Kyle groaned, nearly throwing Butters out of his seat. Crossing his arms and legs, Kyle sat, leaving poor Butters seatless, clutching his blender. "I hope you're happy, Stan."
"I'm not happy at all." Stan sat back down as well. "No one's happy."
"I'm happy. This is so entertaining, you guys." Craig clapped loud and slow. "Isn't this just great, Wendy? Stan and Kyle just broke up at your white elephant party."
"It's called Jew swap," said Cartman.
Craig shrugged. "Like I care."
"Well, what are we going to do about the gifts?" Bebe asked.
Wendy shook her head. "Who cares about the gifts?"
"Well, I mean, Stan and Kyle were sharing, right? They only brought one present between them. So now we're short one—"
"We'll pair," Stan said quickly. "Me and Butters."
"What?" Kyle gasped.
"We will?" Butters asked.
"Sure," said Stan. "Since Kyle kicked you out of your seat and all. It only makes sense, doesn't it? And look." Stan pointed to the box in Butters' arms. "I got my blender back."
"That's ridiculous!" said Kyle. "Give that back!"
"Now I have two blenders." Stan looked directly at Kyle.
"Fine, have all the fucking blenders you want. I'm stealing the coke."
"No you're not, Jew," said Cartman. "It's not your turn. Who's nine?"
Everyone sat quietly for a moment. Then Craig stood up. "Oh," he said. "Well, yeah." From the pile, he picked up a green gift bag overflowing with red and white tissue paper, carrying it back to his seat. "Feels kind of light," he said.
"This is from me," Kevin announced.
"Oh," said Craig. "Joy." He overturned the bag and unceremoniously dumped its contents on the floor.
Kevin clutched his chest. "Jesus!" he exclaimed.
Craig rolled his eyes. Then he looked down at his gift. "Oh," he said, picking it up, "a Lord of the Rings action figure. Just what I wanted."
"Really?" Kevin's eyes widened.
"No," said Craig. "Not even close. Who the hell is this, anyway?"
"That's Saruman."
"Isn't he the bad guy?"
"Yes, he's kind of a bad guy, see, but it's more complicated—"
"He's the headmaster, right?"
"No, you're thinking of Dumbledore."
"And who was he again?" Craig asked.
"He's not in this book. Or the movie adaptation."
"So Saruman is the guy with the Ring? Like the bad guy?"
"No, you're thinking of Sauron, he's—"
"There's a character in Lord of the Rings named Sauron, and also one named Saruman? Isn't that bad planning on Tolkien's part?"
Kevin was struggling to explain. "All his words and names are made of Old English, so—"
"Oh, I get it," said Craig. "This was the guy who was also in X-Men. Right, he was Magneto."
"Oh, right," said Clyde.
"No!" Kevin explained. "No no no! Saruman was played by Christopher Lee! He wasn't in the X-Men movies, that was Ian McKellen, Christopher Lee was in Star Wars. He played Count Dooku!"
Craig just looked at Kevin. "Who?"
Kevin just groaned. "You're hopeless!"
"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Token asked.
Craig just shrugged. "I totally don't want this," he said. "Does anyone want this?"
"That's a Two Towers special edition with articulated joints!" Kevin cried. "Mint in box!"
"You can't get rid of a gift until someone steals it from you," Cartman reminded everyone. "That's the rule."
"If no one steals this from me, I'm leaving it here when I leave," said Craig.
"Great, okay," said Cartman. "Like anyone gives a shit about your little doll, Craig. Who's 10?"
Kyle stood up. He nodded.
"Well, Jew," said Cartman. "Gonna steal that junk so you can snort it up your abnormally large nose?"
"No," said Kyle. "I'm going to steal my blender back from Stan and Butters."
"No fair!" Stan shouted.
"Those are the rules, Stanley. Sorry. Besides." Kyle walked over and grabbed the blender from Butters' arms. "Don't you already have an immersion blender? Maybe one you got for Christmas?" Looking satisfied, Kyle sat back down. He put his new blender between his legs.
"That's all right," said Stan. "Butters and me want to steal the condoms."
The smug smile vanished from Kyle's face. "Why?"
"Yeah," said Butters. "Stan, why?"
"Maybe we'll use them," said Stan. "You never know." He was looking right at Kyle as he walked over to Clyde, who handed the condoms over gladly. Kyle just turned away, wiping at his eye.
"So I get to pick again now, right?" Clyde picked up a new present, another tote bag. This one had a birthday motif of multicolored streamers on it.
"Someone didn't get the thematic messaging," said Craig.
Tweek put his hands over his eyes. "You were with me when I packed it!"
It turned out to be a bag of Christmas-colored Hershey's Kisses, and a copy of The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones.
"How's this book?" Clyde asked.
"I dunno! I didn't read it."
"My sister read all of those," said Stan.
"Ugh, so did mine," said Kenny.
"Aren't your sisters, like, 10 years apart in age?" Craig asked.
"Apparently not in maturity," Kyle said.
Kevin was next to pick, and he chose the single envelope on the table.
"See," said Clyde, as Kevin opened it, "I said I brought something small."
"Oh, it's a $5 gift card to Subway," Kevin said when he got it open. "Um, thank you."
"Don't be too grateful," said Craig. "He forgot to wrap something, and bought that on the walk over."
"At least I have envelopes in the car," said Clyde.
"Well, considering how this game is going," said Kevin. "I figure someone should be grateful for what they're got."
"It's not the point of the game to be grateful for what you've got!" said Wendy. "The point is to have fun with each other!"
"That's what I said," Butters reminded her.
"Well, whatever," said Cartman. "Who's 12?"
Jimmy's girlfriend was, and she stole the blender.
"Goddamit!" Kyle almost burst into tears when she took it from him. "It's not fair!"
"That's Jew swap for you," said Cartman.
"Then, fine." Kyle pointed at Stan and Butters. "I want the condoms."
"Fine," said Stan. He threw them across the room, where they landed at Kyle's feet. "Enjoy finding someone to use those with."
"Yeah," said Butters, tossing the lube at well.
Stan and Butters opted to open the final gift bag, which turned out to contain a bottle of Smirnoff and a set of four shot glasses. A note inside the bag said Love, Red. "All right," said Stan. "Thanks, Red. Let's break this open. Butters?"
"Not so fast," said Cartman. "You can't open the gift until things are final. Everyone needs to have a turn."
"Then let's finish up already," said Kenny. "My ass is starting to hurt from sitting on the carpet."
"Gladly," said Cartman. "Because it appears that I am next. And I am going to pick—"
"Eric, wait." Wendy tapped him on the shoulder.
"What?"
"There are only two things on the table," she said, "and one of them is the gift that Butters brought, because he was the first to get here and I remember her package distinctly." She smirked at him.
"So?" Cartman put his hands on his hips.
"So," said Wendy, "that means the other last gift is yours."
"So?"
"So, you can't open your own gift!"
"Like hell I can't!"
"You can't!" said Wendy. "This game's fucked up enough as it is. Just pick Butters' gift."
"Like fuck I will! I don't want Butters' lame bullshit!"
"How do you know what he brought is lame?" Bebe asked.
"Everything everyone brought is lame," said Craig.
"We're talking about Butters here," said Kyle.
"You're just jealous," said Stan. "Get over it."
"Jealous of what, that you get to fuck some twink Zac Efron clone? Yes, I'm just quaking with envy."
"What's a twink?" Butters asked.
"Okay, fine," said Cartman. "Fine. I want the cigarette case."
Bebe gave it up gladly. "I'll have the Kisses and City of Bones," she said. "I've heard it's good! You know. Like, campy."
And Clyde took the condoms back. "Nice," he said, pocketing them. "Everything's as it should be."
Kyle then stole the vodka.
"Now you're just taking things to piss me off," said Stan.
"So what if I am?" Kyle asked. "You can't win a game without a strategy."
"Now you sound like Cartman!"
"Real mature," said Kyle.
"Whatever," said Stan. "Since we can't open Butters' gift—"
"No!" Cartman dove in front of the table.
"Why not?" Butters asked.
"Yeah," said Stan. "There's only one other gift left, and that's Butters', so—"
"Don't you want to steal something?"
"Not really," said Stan. "What's in there that you don't want us to have?"
"Nothing!" said Cartman, shielding his gift with his bulk. "It's just that, uh — don't you want to steal your vodka back from Kyle?"
Wendy cleared her throat. "You can't steal back the same item in the same round."
"Goddamit! That's not a rule! I make the rules!"
"Eric, this game is going on forever!" Wendy narrowed her eyes. "People are breaking up in the middle of it. That's not what I want!" She lowered he voice: "Is that what you want?"
Cartman stared at her. His lip trembled. Then his resolve cracked. "All right, fine." He picked up his package, expertly wrapped in red paper with perfect creases, his mother's precise handiwork. The package was topped with a fat gold mylar bow. "Fine, bitch, you win."
"Thanks." Butters carefully carried the package back to his seat next to Stan, who pulled off the bow, ripping the paper. Cartman gasped in horror.
"Dude," said Stan.
"Eric," said Butters. "Did you buy this for yourself?"
"No!"
"But Eric." Butters balled up the paper. "Weren't you saying you wanted a Nintendo DS for yourself?"
"It is not a Nintendo DS!" Cartman snapped. "It's a Nintendo 3DS starter package complete with The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D and Rocketfish Ultimate Starter Kit, for Nintendo 3DS."
"Why would you bring something you wanted for yourself?"
"Because I was going to take it for myself," said Cartman. "Duh."
"What if someone opened it before you?"
"Then I was going to steal it," said Cartman. "Why do you think I ran the whole game? I had the power to make anyone I wanted last. Including myself, Butters."
"But Eric!" Butters' put a hand on Cartman's forearm. "That's cheating!"
"So?"
"Well, that's hardly the spirit of the game," said Butters. "You're better than this."
"No I'm not," said Cartman. "Like I give a crap. Anyway, hand it over."
"What? No." Stan crossed his arms. "This is ours now."
"Oh yeah?" Cartman asked. "How are you two gonna share it?"
Stan and Butters looked to each other. "I don't really want it," Stan said. "You want it Butters?"
"Not really, I hear those things can make you go blind."
Wendy cleared her throat. "It's not quite time to divvy up the gift yet."
"What?" said Cartman. "Why not?"
"Because someone hasn't gone yet! There are 14 of us. And there's a gift left on the table. Who hasn't gone yet?"
Red hadn't, and she wanted the 3DS. "I don't care if I go blind," she said. "And now the game's over.
"Not so fast." Cartman pointed to Stan and Butters. "Those butt pirates don't have anything, so they have to pick something now."
"The only gift left is my gift, though, and I can't pick my gift," said Butters.
"Whatever." Cartman rolled his eyes. "This game fucking sucks anyway."
"Hey!" said Wendy.
"Well," said Butters. "I guess we'll just have to steal something."
"Sure." Stan shut his eyes. "Just give me a moment to think."
"Need a gay wizard action figure?" Craig asked.
"Butters," said Kenny. "Did you want some used makeup?"
"Hold on." Stan stood up. "We need a moment to discuss."
"Take your time," said Wendy. "The rest of us will just sit here."
"Sweet, Wendy. Thanks." Stan and Butters disappeared into the kitchen.
Cartman sat down on the carpet. He said, "Hey, Kenny, $20 says those butt pirates are going down on each other in there," to which Kyle let out a strangled sob. "Oh, what, now you give a shit?"
"No, I don't give a shit," said Kyle. "They deserve each other. Whatever."
Kenny took a tube of lipstick out of his Caboodles and flung it at Cartman; it hit his shoulder. "Ow! Kenny, what the fuck?"
"Butters isn't gay, you idiot."
"He is so! Why else would he want some women's makeup?"
"Unbelievable," said Kenny. "I'd think you of all people would know the difference between a gay man, and a transvestite."
"A what?"
"Dressing up in women's clothing doesn't automatically make a person gay!"
"Are we really going to sit here arguing about this?" Craig buried his face in his hands. "I'm never going to any party, ever again. Ever."
"It's almost over, man," said Token.
"Does this happen at all of your parties?" asked Jimmy's girlfriend.
"Pretty much," said Tweek.
"Why," said Bebe. "Don't you want to know what's going to happen?"
"Not really," said Shauna. "Who are you people?"
Kyle shot her a nasty look. "Who the hell are you, is the question?"
"I came with Jimmy!"
"So do you really think you should sit here judging all of us?"
"You dumped your boyfriend in the middle of a game of white elephant—"
("You mean Jew swap," said Cartman.)
"—because he said he was attracted to Zac Efron!"
"He shouldn't have done that," said Kyle. "But he was going to leave me anyway, see, he got with Butters immediately, so."
"Only because you got up and made Butters switch seats with you! And who the hell is even named Butters, honestly, that isn't a name."
"Clearly it is," said Jimmy. "You see—"
This was when Butters and Stan came back in. "Excuse me? We know what we're gonna steal now," said Butters, hanging off the kitchen doorframe.
"Please let it be something easy, so this game doesn't go on indefinitely," said Wendy.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Shut up, Eric," said Wendy. "It's not my fault you lost your 3DS."
"Maybe it is because you were distracting me when I was rigging the number system!"
"Okay, well." Stan put his hands on his hips. "I know what I'm going to steal." He strode right over to Kyle, said, "Hey," and flung Kyle over his shoulder.
"Jesus!" Kyle shouted. "You can't steal me! Put me the fuck down." He screamed all the way out of the room, leaving 12 party guests sitting awkwardly in the living room, listening to the sound of Stan stomping upstairs, and slamming a door.
"Did that just happen?" Bebe asked.
"Sort of cliché," said Craig, to no one in particular, "don't you think?"
"I'll go see what's going on." Wendy stood, brushing herself off. Some tissue paper clinging to her skirt fell to the ground. "Butters?"
"I'll come too. Since I've lost my partner and all."
"You could steal another gift," said Kenny, "like this makeup maybe."
"Nah," said Butters. "That's okay."
XXX
Stan and Kyle were clearly in Wendy's parents' room. "Thank god it's not mine!" she said, but then panic overtook her and she began to bang on the door. "What are you doing?" she shouted. "That's my parents' bed! You can't — get out!"
Butters put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," he said, over the muffled noises coming from inside. "Wendy, really, I can help you."
"Help me what?"
"Well, deal with — with this situation."
"What?" She sniffed, wiping her eye. "You mean, you can help me get them out of there."
"Well, no."
"Then what am I going to do!" she shouted, banging on the door.
"Hey, hey." Butters took her hand. "Look, you can't — they're just rude, Wendy. They're not gonna stop or anything. Like, I think maybe that's what they like about it, this kind of performance, or — sorry, I don't know what I know about anything."
"Then how can you help me?" she asked.
"Well," said Butters. "I can go with you downstairs, and we can have a nice time at the party."
"Can we go into my room first? I think I need to calm down." Voices were coming from downstairs, arguing and laughing. Eric was the loudest, of course, screaming about getting his 3DS back. Someone had put on some music, now that the game was over.
"Of course." Butters dropped her hand. "Yeah, I don't really want to go back do there, neither."
Wendy's room was quite girlish, but then, she didn't really live there, most of the time. Butters smiled at the posters on the walls, for things that hadn't been popular since they'd been in high school. The walls were white, but the bedspread was floral, and she certainly had a lot of shams and accent pillows. Lots of books, too, but the top of her bookshelves were crammed with old stuffed animals. The floor was aqua carpeting, and that was clear, but her closet was open and everything in there was a mess. Her hamper was overflowing, white wicker, and some dresses were hanging from her closet doors, and tops and skirts from the doorknobs.
"Sorry," Wendy said, pulling out her desk chair so Butters could sit in it. "The room's so messy. I was getting dressed. Sorry."
"Nah, it's okay. I like your room. You got a lot of dolls," Butters said, just trying to make conversation. There was room for Wendy on the bed, but only just. Too many pillows. Butters put his feet on the seat, tucking them under his thighs, and then he jumped, trying to move them off.
"It's okay," she said, and he relaxed, legs under his thighs again.
"So I like your dolls," he continued. "Reminds me of Eric. Like, when we were kids"
Wendy burst into tears.
Butters jumped right out of his chair. "Gosh, Wendy!" he ran to her side. "I'm so sorry!"
"It's all right." She wiped her eyes with her wrist, and pushed some accent pillows to the floor. "It's okay, Butters, I'm sorry, you didn't do anything wrong—"
"I did if I made you cry," he said.
"No, you didn't, it's just — what you said about Eric, you know."
"Yeah, Eric makes me want to cry sometimes, too." He smiled.
"I know you're trying to joke, but." She choked again. "We just broke up."
"Wendy." Butters took her hand again. He lowered his voice. "Oh, I — I didn't know."
"No one did," she cried. "And my parents are gone, and we're all gonna graduate, and I don't know who's even coming back here, and just — I'm not even sad that it's over, but I just feel like. Like, why do things have to end?"
"Oh. Uh." Butters let go of Wendy's hand, and started rubbing his knuckles together. "Well, I'm not very eloquent, but. I've been majoring in philosophy, actually, and—"
"Really?" Wendy reached over him for a tissue on her bedside table. She blew her nose in it. "Sorry this is gross," she said, tossing it to the ground. "Philosophy, really?"
"Well, sure. Yeah."
"Oh." She pulled another tissue from the box. "Interesting."
"It's okay I guess. But I think — things have to end because, well, then there's nothing at stake. If you can't lose something, what does having it even mean?"
"That's beautiful, Butters." She tossed another Kleenex on the floor.
"I have to tell you, though, that's not like a real big philosophical idea or anything, it's just I'm a little drunk."
"That's okay," she said, "I'm not drunk at all." She leaned forward, grabbing Butters by the wrist, kissing him at the corner of his mouth.
Butters grinned into it. "This is the kind of thing that's supposed to happen at parties," he said.
She licked at his cheek. "Mmhmmm."
"See." His hands flew to her belt loops, pulling her forward. "I'm an okay distraction."
"If I take off your pants," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Are you wearing panties?"
"You want to find out?"
"Kind of."
Butters laughed. "Well, I'm not, sorry."
"Is it true, though, that you—"
"Yeah." He didn't hesitate, not even to let her finish. "It's true."
"When I heard that." She put a leg across his lap, sliding on top of him. She whispered into his ear, "Eric does too."
"I know. But I kind of don't want to talk about Eric, okay? I like to keep him out of my personal life as much as possible. And vice versa. Which explains why I didn't know about you and him—"
"Oh, nobody knew," Wendy said. She put a hand in his hair, which was messy and light, like he played with it a lot, and a bit greasy. It didn't deter her. "That's kind of—"
"Okay." Butters covered her mouth with his hand. "No more about Eric, now, all right?"
"Right."
He removed his hand, and put his lips there.
XXX
Kenny was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, triumphant. His eyes were glazed over, and he had a cigarette case in his sweaty hands. Three empty beers sat at his feet, but he seemed not too drunk when he said, "Hey," and didn't stagger much when he got up to let Wendy and Butters come down the stairs. "Any luck up there?"
"Some," said Wendy. She looked away, quickly.
"Stan and Kyle can be real stubborn," Butters added.
"We all heard Kyle screaming down here," said Kenny. "At least, I'm pretty sure it was Kyle. He sure screams like a chick."
"Oh." Wendy blushed, and looked down.
"Why do you assume it was Kyle, and not Stan?" Butters asked
"Gosh, I don't know. How not-PC of me to assume a guy getting buttfucked would shriek like a woman. My mistake." Kenny shrugged. "Anyway, I got what I wanted. Like I care about my friends' pathetic little sex games."
"What?" Butters stepped backward, narrowly missing one of Kenny's empty beers.
"I mean, staging some whole elaborate fight just to get off on your own dramatics," said Kenny. "Real classy. Craig left in disgust. Disgust, I tell you!"
"He would've done that anyway," said Butters.
"Good of him to come," said Wendy.
"Tweek and Red went with him. But. He left Donovan here," said Kenny. "Token's with him, he's puking in your backyard."
"Jesus!"
"I'll help you clean up in the morning," Butters offered.
"That's okay," said Wendy, "I mean,"
"I mean, I'll come back," said Butters. "If you want. Anyway. How'd you get that, Ken?"
"Traded up for it," said Kenny. "I had to promise Red a cut of what I sell to get the 3DS. I mean, I'll get way more than $500 for it, and that's all I need. Then I gave the 3DS to Eric. We swapped. He's in a foul mood, he's sitting in the kitchen trying to pretend he's not crying into Legend of Zelda right now."
"Good," said Wendy.
"Poor Eric," said Butters. "That game is all he has now."
"Don't care," said Kenny. "I mean. I've got what I wanted."
"What is it that you wanted?" Kyle asked from the top of the stairs. He came down trailed by Stan, who kept a hand at Kyle's waist, like Kyle might fall down if left unattended. His shirt was untucked, and he had the most serene look on his face.
"Nothing," said Kenny. "None of your concern."
Stan turned to Wendy. "Sorry," he said. He did not seem very serene. "That was — that was really awful of us."
"Whatever," she said.
"We'll make it up to you," said Kyle.
"How?"
"We could come over in the morning and help you clean," Stan suggested.
"Never mind, then," said Wendy, "because Butters is going to stay the night and help me do it."
"I am? … I mean, yeah. I am."
"Great," said Kyle. "Good for you guys."
"Good for us what?" Wendy asked.
"Nothing," said Stan. "We don't mean anything by it. And we'll take you out to lunch."
"And we should probably get going," Kyle added. "You know, before we cause any more trouble."
"Did you guys end up with a gift?"
Stan shook his head. "Well, I mean, Kyle was my gift."
"My gift is left over, actually," said Butters.
"Sweet. We can take it?"
"What is it?" Kyle asked.
"Cookies," said Butters. "Me and my mom made gingerbread cookies."
"We don't like gingerbread," said Kyle.
"Well," said Stan. "Are they, like, soft, like chewy gingerbread men? Or more crispy, like gingersnaps?"
"Well," said Butters, "um."
"Fuck you guys," said Kenny. "Seriously, Butters. I love any cookies. You should just serve them already."
"I should?"
"Yes." Kenny shot Kyle a dirty look. "The best gifts are things everyone benefits from, okay? Like, the idea of the party is to have fun, not to get some crap."
"Then I hope you're really happy with your drug case," said Kyle. He pushed Kenny out of the way as he strode past.
Stan said, "For the record. I love gingerbread. But, I gotta go." He leaned in and kissed Wendy lightly on the cheek. "Thanks, Wendy. Really."
XXX
Kenny ate his gingerbread man on the front stoop, listening to the party die down. Stan and Kyle had finally left in a hurry, holding hands, Stan wearing the gift Kenny had brought to give away. Kevin had followed soon after, his action figure in his clutches, grumbling about how certain people just didn't appreciate anything.
"Poor gingerbread man," Kenny said, picking at the yellow icing that make up the elaborate polka dots of its shirt. "You were really just created to be devoured, huh?" He popped a bit of icing in his mouth, letting it dissolve on his tongue.
The door opened, and Clyde and Token stumbled out, the former looking fairly queasy, and the latter wearing a look of great concern. "You know, McCormick," said Clyde, "your, uh, your tenacity, you really dedicah—dedicated yourself, man."
Kenny stood, not wanting to be vomited on by Clyde of all people. He stumbled, knocking over the end of his final beer of the night.
"You guys okay?"
"I'm fine," said Token. "Forever DD and all. I'm afraid Clyde might be looking at a really massive hangover in the morning."
"What do you know?" Clyde sneered. "You freaking teetler."
"Teetotaler," said Token. "Anyway. Good seeing you, McCormick. Kenny."
"Yeah, you too, man." Kenny stuck out his hand, and Token grasped it. "You know, I realize it's sketchy, but I can't judge you. This gift you brought, dude, it's — it's really gonna help me out. And I appreciate it. Because—"
Clyde interrupted. "I could go for some Subway, you know?"
"Clyde, shut up." Token was frowning. "Kenny, listen. You know that's not heroin, right?"
"Uh." Kenny dropped the end of his cookie, feeling for his back pocket. "What?"
"It's baking soda, man. The case is from Urban Outfitters. It's — shit, it's gotta be brass or something, I don't know."
"This … isn't worth $500?"
"No!" said Token. "Maybe $18? You can return it. I bet I still have the receipt."
"You … this … Token, what the fuck?"
Token narrowed his eyes. "You really think I have heroin, like I just keep so much expensive smack around my house I can just give it away? Man. You people really don't know me at all." Token shook his head. "But, uh. Good luck with whatever you needed, okay? Good seeing you. Come on, Clyde."
They walked off into the night.
Kenny stood there, on the Testaburger doorstep, feeling his gingerbread man crumble under his shoes. Kenny thought about eating it off of the ground. It made him think about Butters, sweeping up inside, and Cartman, who was still weeping into the kitchen and pretending he wasn't.
Kenny started to laugh.
I am not even sure.