Yo, my name is Token Black. Right now I'm like about 17 years old. You may be asking, why the fuck am I telling this story, especially since the description of this fan fiction has all to do with Clyde, Tweek, Craig, and Kevin…. I, I don't really know. This weird ass author put me this way. Anyways, this story is gonna be on Clyde. If you didn't hear me sigh through this damn computer, you've got some problems. Yeah, it's THAT bad. He's the kinda guy that when you're around him, you wanna face palm your head 5,000 times before breakfast ends. The kinda guy that you wanna strangle till his little retard head breaks off, but I can't do that… since The Simpsons did it. The kinda guy where you're scared to go in his head cause you're afraid to find crickets chirping, or something stupid about lesbian cheerleaders or taco man. The kinda guy who makes you question the race of humanity and whether China or Iraq SHOULD just bomb us.

Then again, he's also the kinda guy you can trust with your life, unless it involves math of course. The kinda guy you can cry on his shoulder if my grandmother… er, I mean, if someone else's, who isn't mine, and someone who has nothing to do with me, someone else's grandmother dies by heart attack… or any other way old people die. The kinda guy who would get in trouble for you if you did something wrong. Craig should really thank him for that. He's the kinda guy who doesn't ask for "thank you" or "your welcome" or doesn't really think about it when you insult him. Sure he cries, but Clyde always cries, doesn't mean it really affects him. You show him a taco man poster or something shiny and he forgets all about it.

Then again, he's a pure crybaby, perverted, airhead, clueless, distracted, "special", lovable, loyal, makes-you-wanna-face-palm, weird ass retard. Yeah, I think that whole sentence pretty much summed that guy up. He's also one of my best friends. Our group consists of Craig Tucker, who he thinks is the leader (figures that arrogant asshole). Tweek Tweak, the twitchy little spazzy ball of cute. Kevin Stoley, the nerdy ass Star Wars freak who just won't stop hanging around us, even if we beg him (and we once did). Me, the common sense behind this little group. And last but not least, Clyde Donavan, the perverted, crybaby, retard. That's us at school. Yep, nothing more, nothing less. Definitely nothing more.

We are kinda considered the alternate weirdo group, alternate from the world class retards over at the lunch table next to the air conditioner. Yeah, you know who. Those retards who is involved with almost every weird thing that happens in South Park, the four blind mice, or sometimes five. Stan Marsh, the sarcastic pussy that into the whole green day/earth day everyday thing. Kenny McCorminck, the perverted, promiscuous, white trash of South Park high. Kyle Boflovski, the Jewish genius and number one punching bag of Eric Cartman. And Eric Cartman, the bigot, racist, whiny, retarded, self-centered asshole, narcissistic fatass! In other words, the world's most hated blob in the entire earth. Oh yeah, and sometimes Butters Scotch (almost forgot him), the innocent, naive, weird yet somewhat (SOMEWHAT) cute annoyance.

Yeah, that's them, but they aren't even that mentioned in this story, so don't go thinking it's a Kenny/Stan/Kyle/Cartman (slash sometimes Butters) kinda romance thingy. This story is a Clyde/Kevin/Tweek/Craig sorta love… rectangle (yeah, a rectangle, not a triangle) thingy. With of course yours truly who's watching at the sidelines and laughing his ass off on the whole ordeal. It's mostly a comedy thing, has a lot of romance, has maybe some angst. Very weird.

One last thing, hopes this makes you somewhat happy x-Nymph. This fan fiction, with all it's dull glory, is dedicated to you. Which by the way…

"Token!"

"What the fuck is it, Clyde!"

"Are you gonna write so much on that little notebook, or are you gonna give me your tater tots?"

"What, arrgh, fine take them!"

"Yay! The demon praises me!"

*facepalm* "Again with the demon thing."

"Whatcha writing about, Token?"

"Non'a your business."

"Gimme!"

"S-stop! What the fuck are you doing!"

"I wanna seeeeeeeeee!"

"Are you biting me, OUCH!"

"Yay! Double demon glory! I succeeded!"

"Give that back you little fucker!"

"Would taco man give it back?"

*tackles Clyde* "Give. It. Back!"

"NEVER!"

"Ahem." Craig interrupts us.

We both turn to him.

"You both are pissing me off."

"Tell him that!" I said.

"WOULD TACO MAN—OOF!" I took my notebook back and stepped on Clyde's face and ran only to hear him cry "THE DEMON CURSES ME AGAIN!" before I run out of the school.