Two rum and Cokes later I found myself talking to Kyle. He seemed really pissed off, but then again he was always riled up over something.

"Dude, one of them keeps saying things like 'I made poopy!' " he said, swirling the celery stick around in his half-empty Bloody Mary.

"Who?"

"The kids at this fucking table Cartman sat me at!"

"Oh," I responded.

"You seem a little distracted, Kenny. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, it's fine." I didn't want to tell Kyle about what was on my mind. It was really none of his business. He also had a big mouth. "Look!" I said a little too loudly, "It's…" I looked around for the closest person I could rope into our conversation in order to change its direction. "Craig!" I walked over and grabbed Craig's shoulder.

"Oh, hi, dude," Craig simpered.

"Hey, Craig," Kyle acknowledged.

"Oh, hi Kenny, Kyle." Craig had taken off his hat for this occasion, which was actually kind of rare. His hair was oddly greasy, probably from being under that stupid hat most of the time. "Whatcha guys been up to?"

"You know, the usual mischief," I smirked.

The hors d'oeuvres had slowed and people were starting to take their seats. "Well, we had better get back to our seats, Kenny," Craig sneered. "See you later, Kyle."

"Fuck you. Stupid fucking kids table," Kyle grumbled. Craig and I sat next to each other at our table, which was conveniently or unfortunately dance-floor adjacent.

"They're lucky it didn't rain," Craig said to me. "I mean, I guess they have this tent and everything, but tents get really muggy and gross when it rains."

"Uh huh." I poured myself a glass of wine from one of the bottles that had been placed on the table. I downed it rather quickly and poured myself another.

"You must be really thirsty."

"I'm just celebrating, Craig. Butters and Cartman are two very close friends of mine. I'm just very happy to see them finally getting hitched."

"Oh. Who would have thought that they would become gay lovers?"

"Everybody keeps saying that, but really I think it was quite obvious all along."

I kept talking to Craig as dinner was served. He kept going on and on about his new car and his new girlfriend, who couldn't make it tonight because it was her Aunt Grace's quinceañera or something. I don't know, I wasn't really listening. I met up with Stan at the dessert table afterwards. He looked so hot in his tux, it was painful not being able to touch him … much.

I brushed up against him oh-so-subtly and whispered in his ear, "Hello, Stan."

Stan swung around and wrapped his arms around me, "Kenny! Oh! Am I glad to see you! I've spent the last hour discussing needlepoint with Mrs. Stotch." I could smell the scotch on his breath.

I shrugged his arms off of me. "Stan, what will people think?" I whispered.

"Oh, yeah, right."

"Don't 'oh right' me, mister. This whole sham was your idea."

"Yeah…"

Just then, Butters, the blushing 'bride,' sidled up next to me. He was wearing a white tuxedo with lace accents and a white silk damask cummerbund. "Kenny, I haven't seen you all evening. Where have you been?"

"Talking to Craig," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Craig, he's a nice fellow," Butters chirped. "I'm having such a good time. Are you having a good time, Kenny?"

"I sure am!" I said, half-heartedly, but Butters was too ecstatic to notice. He quickly moved on to harangue Red about her ever-growing baby-bump.

"They seem really happy," Stan said.

"They sure do!" I retorted angrily, now getting a little pissed off. I'd had this fantasy, as of late, of a big beautiful commitment ceremony for me and Stan. It was a stupid fantasy, I know, but when you really love someone like I love Stan you can't help but think of things like that. Stan enjoying this party, for Cartman of all people, was really rubbing me the wrong way. Speak of the devil…

"YOU GUYS!" Cartman's booming yet nasal voice interrupted. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Oh, hi, Cartman," I muttered.

"Hello to you too, Kenny. I see you're taking advantage of our generous open bar," he said, nodding toward the gin and tonic I was now cradling.

"Oh, yeah. It's really great. Top notch," I said. "Congratulations on your commitment, Eric. I never thought you would be the first one of us to get hitched."

"Well, guys, when you know you've found the one, there's no point in putting it off."

Stan interrupted, "You two are so cute. And so in love."

"That's right, Stan," Cartman responded. "Isn't this fancy? Don't you just love what Leo is wearing?"

"Leo?" Stan asked stupidly.

"You think I would call my husband by a nickname, Stan? That's ridiculous. Leo and I are too close for that. Oh look here he is!" Cartman's face became one gigantic ridiculous grin.

Indeed Butters was elegantly floating back toward us. "Eric! I was looking for you! We're going to do the toasts soon. I hope you've prepared a speech, Stan."

"Me?" Stan blushed.

"We would love it you said something," Cartman said, while making Eskimo kisses with Butters. It was kind of sickening.

"Oh, okay. Sure," Stan responded, downing the rest of his scotch rather quickly.

"Oh, honey, isn't everything just perfect?" Butters asked Cartman.

"Of course it's perfect. It's my wedding."

"It's a commitment ceremony, dude," I said.

"And it's our commitment ceremony," Butters corrected. "Oh look! It's Principal Victoria. I can't believe she actually came!" And with that Butters was off in a blur of white.

"Guys, isn't this so great?" Cartman asked. "Did you notice the band? They're the most expensive band in all of Colorado, and we totally upgraded on the glassware. It's the subtle touches…"

"Dude, shut up," I responded. "Everybody knows Butters' parents are paying for the whole thing."

"You shut up, Kenny. You're just jealous because you're poor. Well, I've wasted enough time on the two of you. Don't screw up your speech, Stan." Cartman walked away. I was going to lean over and say something disparaging about Cartman's brown tux with tails, but Stan looked a world away.

"Penny for your thoughts," I offered.

"What a lame thing to say."

"Oh, okay, then what are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about what I'm going to drink now. This party is so lame."

"Good idea." We walked over to the bar and had our glasses refilled.

"You wanna dance?" Stan asked me.

"Are you fucking kidding?"

"No, man, it'll be cool."

"You're drunk, dude."

"Maybe I am, but I feel like dancing."

"Oh okay." I was rescued by the sound of a knife striking a glass. "Um, time for the toasts. I think I'd better get back to my seat."