Okay so I suck at writing.
I hope you enjoy an amateur story from an amateur writer.
CraigxTweek and all that jazz.
I'm hoping that the next chapters will make the story line a little more delightful to read, but for now you get this thing.
I don't own South Park or any of the characters.
Whatever happened to when music could just tune everything out? To be able to just press those ear buds into my ears, turn up the bass, and crank the volume. I remember when I could close my eyes and listen to musical instruments drum against and rattle my brain as I totally shut out the real world for a while. The beat becoming my pulse, the drums beating out any of the bad memories I had from that day. Whatever happened to that?
"Craig."
Oh god not again.
"Craig!" this time he started to poke me.
Dear jesus can't they see that-
"CRAIG!" screeched Clyde as he ripped a pulsating ear bud out of my ear.
I turned to face Clyde where he was sitting next to me in the booth.
"What the fucking hell do you want this time?" I growled through my clenched jaw. He knows that I'm in the zone when I listen to my music. But of course, with Clyde being Clyde, he decides that it's okay for him to interrupt such a valued thing to me.
Clyde shrunk back into his seat after hearing the edge in my voice and let out a little "never mind," before going back to chew on a taco.
Why did I even agree to go out with these two today?
I looked at the seat across from me only to meet the eyes of a disappointed Token. He's always trying to get me to be 'nicer' to people. "Karma's a bitch, Craig," he'd always tell me. But as he's looking at me, shaking his head, all I do is flip him off and move to put my ear bud back in its rightful place.
But before I could finish the dead, Token speaks up, "Tweek's coming with us to the party tomorrow."
Oh yeah, now I remember. As to why I can't focus on my music anymore.
He came into my life.
That little motherfucker.
Who does he think he is, just entering my life as easily as to how Cartman can scarf down 15 burritos in one sitting? God that kid is such an ignorant fucking fatass.
"That's what I was going to tell you…" Clyde pouted, putting his taco down, daring to glare my way. I rolled my eyes at his overreaction. He can be such a fucking drama queen sometimes.
"He told us today, that he's decided on going. He needed a ride, so I happily obliged." Token shared.
Great. First Clyde and Token made me agree to go to a stupid party with them, and now they decide to tell me that he was going to be there. And that I had to be in the same car as him makes it all the worse.
Those assholes, I angrily thought to myself as I again question why I'm with these idiots.
It's just like today the whole human populous decided 'let's go see how we can piss off Craig today'.
No. Fucking no.
This is what I don't understand; that people actually go out of their way to fuck with me and make me want to gag them with a spoon. And it's all their fault. People in general, I mean.
I hate people. Well okay... I guess it's not legitimately the whole human race that I hate, or even the individuals that make it up, except for Cartman and his fucking money-stealing, getting-held-hostage-in-Peru posy. No, it's the fact that people actually want to be social. Actually going out, completely voluntary, just to talk to or hang other people.
I can't grasp why this is so fucking desirable by so many people, since all that I want is to be able to stay secluded up in my room, alone with my eardrum-bursting music. That's my idea of a perfect day. Not having to leave the confinements of my room, and not having to be around people.
But here I am now. In a crowded Taco Bell with my 'friends', being forced to be social.
"Why would you tell him we'd give him a ride," I growled in my nasally, monotone voice.
"Craig, he doesn't have a car, and the party's twenty-five minutes outside of South Park."
"So fucking what, that means that you have to take pity on him?"
"I'm just helping out a friend, that's what friends do, Craig." Token glared at me, silently telling me to fuck off and that his decision is final. We're going to have to give Tweek a ride to a party.
Tweek. I still can't get over the fact that one kid can distract me so much as he is. It's not my fault, dammit. He's the one who's driving me mental in the first place.
It's not that I hate him, it's actually quite the opposite. I find him to be utterly fascinating in every way imaginable. And that's the thing- he's so fascinating to me that I legit can't focus on my shit. The me-time I had with my music is now gone, since thoughts of Tweek flood my mind. My schoolwork by the end of the year started getting careless, all D's and F's, because Tweek was in every one of my classes last year.
I just want him out of my head, and staying isolated in my room would have fixed that, if it weren't for these bastards. Now they're making me go near something that I don't want to touch with a ten foot pole.
I've learned that if you ignore the problem, it will eventually go away. So if I ignore Tweek, maybe he'd disappear from my life.
"What the fuck ever," I said, flipping off Token once more.
I heard a crunch come from where Clyde sat. After taking a massive bite out of his third taco, he jumbled some unexplainable choking dolphin noises through his chewing that sounded somewhere along the lines of, "Thought you'd wanna know, you know? For someone who likes the kid…" I stopped him right there.
I punched him. Hard.
Dropping his taco, Clyde made some more noises that this time might've resembled a dying giraffem which sounded something like, "What the hell, dude?!"
I jammed the once forgotten ear bud into my ear, which was still blaring music, pulled my blue chullo down almost covering my eyes, and got up and left.
"Oh calm down, you're being stubborn now," I heard Token complain as I exited the disgusting fast food restaurant.
Clyde is such a fucktard sometimes. He doesn't know when to shut his oversized mouth.
Turning my music up even more, if that is even possible, and with a scowl on my face, I stomped towards my house. Upon entering said house, after cursing Clyde with all his stupidity under my breath while I fiddled with the house key, I took off to my room.
I know that they'll still make me go to that godforsaken party tomorrow, but for now I can at least try to have some quality Craig-time. Alone. In my room.
"Fucking Clyde", I growled aloud after arranging myself comfortably on my blue clad bed.
To the most sane, after hearing this little occurrence, might think that Clyde was dead wrong about me liking Tweek.
But for once, Clyde…
Fucking Clyde…
Was right.