This sucks.
I shouldn't have begged my parents for a bigger bed.
Then maybe I wouldn't be in this mess.
Stan had invited all of his friends to spend the night at his house, to try out his new bed.
The bed was big, and soft, and comfortable.
And he couldn't sleep.
As if sleeping in the same bed with three other boys wasn't awkward enough.
God forbid they slept normally.
Cartman tossed and turned, like he was having a vivid dream.
Kyle talked in his sleep. In Hebrew.
Kenny clung to the nearest object for dear life (which just so happened to be Stan's leg) as if death was after him, and sometimes he'd whimper.
Butters was staying at Stan's house that week, but there was no way in hell he was sleeping on the bed. He lay curled up on the floor, a finger knotted in his hair, sucking loudly on his thumb.
Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
This was the absolute definition of lame.
He made a useless attempt at freeing his leg from Kenny, pushed Cartman as far away from him as possible, and told Kyle to shut up. He was tempted to throw something at Butters to end his ceaseless thumb-sucking, but decided it would only make more noise.
And then, silence.
Well, just about as silent as it would get. With the noise the others were making, it was a kind of stagnant silence. Like the ticking of a clock in an otherwise quiet room. It drove him nuts.
He tried holding his breath until he passed out.
After a few attempts, Stan gave up and turned his head to stare at his clock.
12:46.
The glaring light made his eyes tired, but he refused to blink.
Slowly, his eyes drifted closed.
Sleep at last...
"STAN!"
Stan jerked awake, surprised to find three pairs of eyes staring at him.
He stole a glance at the clock.
12:49.
"What the hell do you guys want?" he groaned.
Butters, also awake, rubbed his eyes, replying, "U-Uh, you were snoring awful loud there, Stan. Shucks, y-ya practically woke up the whole neighborhood."
"W-Wha..?"
He turned an inquiring look to his friends.
"Yeah, get a cork or something." Kyle put in. Cartman rubbed a hand across his face and grumbled, "Seriously."
Kenny (who still hadn't detatched himself from Stan) lay face-down on the bed. He muffled something into the sheets and cut off halfway through with an odd noise.
Stan felt like ripping his own hair out.
"I am going to fucking kill you guys."
The boys gave him a look and went back to sleep.
He reached down and gave Kenny a shake.
"Hey, Kenny... Dude, let go of me."
Kenny didn't respond.
Stan sighed.
After managing to pry the boy off his leg, he gave him a kick.
"Kenny?"
No response.
"Oh my god, they killed Kenny." he drawled sleepily, pushing the body onto the floor.
Kyle partially extended a fist.
"..y–you..bastards..."