AN: Thanks so much for all of the feedback and comments I've gotten! I want to give the heads up that typically I post an update for the chapters faster on AO3 than fanfiction.
This chapter was a struggle at certain parts due to writer's block, but I'm really happy with the results. You'll have to let me know what you think and don't be afraid to point out something you're unhappy with. Like I said before, I want to make this fic an enjoyable experience for both you and I. ;)
On another note, I've planned out some illustrations I'm going to draw for the story and I'm beginning to draw all of the character designs for the main characters, as well. Again, they can be formatted into the actual story on AO3, so you'll see some of the pictures I've drawn there (except for the character designs).
They can be found on my new art tumblr page whose URL name begins with Binary-Echo
Side Note: Some words might have not copied properly. Let me know if any of the songs seem to be cut short for no reason.
Chapter Two: Their Last Friday Night
Stan can still remember the days when he and Wendy had been dating on and off back in elementary school. It had always started out wonderful. They would fall for one another during the intervals they were broken up and once they got together again, the first few weeks were great. But, after while, their relationship always went south. Jealousy and lack of trust interfered. Most of the time, Stan thought she was either cheating on him or losing interest in him while she would get jealous of how much time he spent with his super best friend, Kyle. Although he never admitted it to her, he knew she had figured out that Kyle's needs always went before hers.
You have those two factors coupled with the fact that he'd been diagnosed with aspergers and later depression, it was obvious that their relationship was bound to fail in the end. So before their greatest falling out could inevitably destroy anything they once shared, they mutually agreed to break up once and for all. Although they no longer held feelings for one another, and Kyle later on took her place while Token replaced Stan, no hard feelings were given. Against all odds, they somehow remained relatively close friends.
Before all of this played out, however, halfway through fourth grade, when he and Wendy were starting to get on one another's nerves again, Wendy had continually pestered him to try and get the others to let her join in on their Friday nights. Of course, he only asked the group because of her nagging. He really didn't care whether or not she went at that point so long as she stopped bugging him about it.
Predictably, whenever Stan asked Cartman, he made a show of just laughing in his face. When Wendy approached Cartman, he proceeded to laugh in her face, too. Of course, this made her pissed, but what did she expect: instant acceptance? This was Cartman she was dealing with. Only a fool would think it'd be that easy, and Wendy's not a fool. She was just stubborn.
This repeated for almost a year, and every single person in the group, this included Kyle and Kenny, too, had declined her request. Kenny, on the other hand, had only been attempting to get the group, or more specifically Cartman, for about a month now, if not more, to give Butters an invitation. Somehow, he had miraculously gotten fatass, of all people, to say yes.
Stan shouldn't be too surprised, really. From what Kenny hinted at, he had taken advantage of the situation to get his desired answer, and, coupled with the fact that Kenny was still technically Cartman's best friend, if anyone could get him to relent, it would be him. Kenny was the only one out of the group that usually went along with Cartman and his antics for the most part nowadays. Kyle and Stan tried their best not to get involved unless it was absolutely necessary and Butters was tossed out of Cartman's line of fire a long time ago.
Stan wasn't mad or anything. He just hoped Kenny didn't push his luck too much. Kenny was known to be a bit too cocky for his own good. Sometimes Stan wondered how he hadn't died an early death yet after some of the shit he's tried to pull.
As for Butters, he didn't have any doubt that the kid would fit in with their Friday nights. As far as he could tell, he'd been apart of the gang not long after Kenny's dad died. Although he wasn't very close to Stan, he didn't dislike his company, which is saying a lot nowadays. Stan might not be as negative as he was as a kid, but he was still more cynical and less tolerant of things than most.
He was jarred out of his thoughts when Kyle bumped shoulders against his just as Cartman drove his truck onto Cartman's driveway, which really wasn't that long of a ride if he thought about it. Both Cartman and Butters lived on the same street.
Without missing a beat, both he, Kyle, and Kenny left the vehicle in order to retrieve their luggage; whereas, Cartman entered his home without a second glance at all of them. He was probably too impatient to wait up for them. Whatever. It didn't matter whether he was there or not when the remaining group got their shit together.
A big grin lit up Stan's features as he fell into step with Kyle towards where their luggage was at.
"Any guesses on what the movie will be this time?" Kyle asked as they pried open the back of the truck and began grabbing their stuff.
"I have no clue, but whatever it is, I hope it isn't shit," Stan responded once he had everything in tow. Without a second thought, he added, "But with fatass, you never know."
With everything in hand, they started making their way towards the front door. Stan momentarily glanced back towards the other two, noticing that they weren't right behind them. Butters was still in the car, just watching them with a look of nervous disbelief on his face while Kenny began to shed his hoodie and scarf, revealing his mischievous smile. Kyle called out to the two, "Don't make us wait too long."
"Yes, mom," Kenny laughed before pulling something out of his pocket. He waved it frantically in the air in order to catch Kyle's attention as he added, "And don't worry, we'll use protection!"
Stan could hear a muffled, "K-Kenny! You shouldn't say t-things like that ta Kyle and Stan!"
"It's okay, Butters. Mom and dad don't care," Kenny's crooked grin extended further once Butters fully emerged from the truck. Butters cheeks were flushed and his entire demeanor reeked of embarrassment. Stan could tell Kenny was shamelessly checking Butters out, his eyes lingering towards Butters' crotch, which Stan really didn't want to picture the images that were probably going through Kenny's head.
Kyle rolled his eyes at the two of them, "Just make sure you two don't make a scene, we don't want Mr. Swett to having another heart attack."
Mr. Swett was Cartman's neighbour. He usually sat out on his front porch most of the day just watching as the world passed by him. He was an old man in his late sixties who, ironically, sweated uncontrollably. He, too, was a large man whose weight and unhealthy diet caused him to suffer what he called 'the big one' once every year.
"Better sooner than later is what I always say," Kenny laughed. "Hey!"
Butters had smacked the back of Kenny's head lightly in reprimandation, "Now Kenny, t-that's no way ta talk about Mr. Swett when he's not here."/p
"But when he's here?"
Butters looked at him blankly, puzzled for a second before saying confidently, "It's still not a nice thing ta say, but at least it's not behind his back."
Kenny offered him his messenger bag and the Tupperware container full of his mom's cookies while he kept Butters' sleeping bag and pillow to bring in himself, "You're fucking adorable, you know that?" He patted Butters cheek in an affectionate manner before walking inside. Stan and Kyle followed shortly after him. Unlike last time, Stan hadn't been fast enough to get any of Kyle's luggage and so he wasn't allowed to carry anything for him. Kyle's stubborn like that. Stan knew Kyle was fully capable of bringing it in on his own, he just liked helping him when he could.
The sight of Cartman patiently waiting on his large living room sofa with a can of Diet Double Dew in hand greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. He looked like he was trying to give off the air that he was like a king, but it came off more like an asshole with a superiority complex. But what else did Stan really expect coming from Cartman?
Apparently a lot less than his friend was capable of, because Cartman was at least considerate enough to get them some of their own cans of soda. Everyone grabbed a can from the table. Stan opened a Coca Cola, Kyle some Diet Coke, Kenny some cream soda, and Butters a Squirt. Stan took a swig before setting it back down on the table followed by everyone else but Kenny, who kept holding on to it.
"Okay guys, you know what to do," Cartman held up his drink in a mock toast, swirling its contents just for show. "I'm not going to wait here all day for you four to get your asses in gear. Stan and Kyle, you two get the pillows, Kenny gets the blankets, and Butters gets the snacks. Butters, don't you dare choose anything healthy or else I won't hesitate to kick your ass. "
"Y-yes, sir!" Butters gave Cartman a mock salute. He then laid his things down beside everyone else's luggage and was just about to head towards the kitchen before a cough from Cartman drew his attention.
"Not so fast, Butters. Before you start doing anything, there's an admission fee you still have to pay," Cartman leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms while still holding onto the soda can.
'Great', Stan thought bitterly as he, Kyle, and Kenny started going through their bags to find what they brought. Even though Stan was the one who had come up with it, it didn't mean he liked it one bit. A sudden realization dawned on him: the group failed to tell Butters about rule number 3. This wasn't going to end well.
"I-is this about rule number 3?" Stan raised his head, looking over towards Butter. So it looked like he was aware of it. That was a relief./p
"Kenny told you, huh?" Cartman asked.
"Which is probably a good thing since you'd pull a bitch fit if he hadn't brought anything," Kyle muttered underneath his breath, which Cartman pointedly ignored.
"Then that means we can just get to the point," he set down the soda can and held his hands out. "Okay fags, pay up."
Stan sighed before pulling out a plastic bag that was shoved underneath his pajama bottoms in his backpack and halfheartedly tossed it at Cartman's head, earning him an annoyed "ey!" in response. When Cartman recovered, he greedily opened the bag to admire its contents, "Australian licorice, huh?"
"Yep. Kyle and I get them all of the time," Stan raised a brow, his jaw tense. He didn't want a repeat of last week. "So, do you approve?"
Cartman looked up at him with a sneer, "They aren't Red Vines."
"No, they're not. They're better."
Cartman opened the bag and popped a piece in his mouth. Cartman carefully thought it over as he chewed before finally grunting, "I don't know about that, but it's better than that Twizzler shit you tried pulling last time. You can stay."
Relief filled him. Last time Cartman had kicked him out of his house for offering it to him as tribute. Of course Kyle left, too and they stayed over at his house instead, but it still didn't make it any less annoying and disappointing that their Friday was partially ruined by something so stupid. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "How was I supposed to know that you can't stand Twizzlers? You eat practically anything that has a calorie in it."
"Ey! I have standards!"
"Could'a fooled us," Kenny laughed as he handed Cartman a CD case. "Here you go, you're very own pirated copy of The Game of Thrones' latest season, specially downloaded from your local library. Let's just say the MPAA aren't too happy with them for some illegal activity a visitor got away with."
"HD or standard def?"
"HD."
A wicked grin enveloped Cartman's face. His expression was reminiscent of a child on Christmas day, "I knew you were my best friend for some reason."
He got up to put the CD case alongside the many other pirated copies Kenny had given him over the years. He turned his attention back to Kenny and reminded him, "You still owe me for that microwave."
"A McCormick always pays their debts," Kenny swirled the contents of his cream soda, "but it takes time and patience."
"The latter of which Fatass doesn't have," Kyle added.
"'Ey, I've waited a month so far, Kahl. Give credit where credits due," Cartman huffed.
Stan had to give him that. The most Cartman's done that could be described as impatient was ask that question to Kenny everyday, otherwise, as far as Stan knows, he's been pretty reasonable about the whole thing. There haven't been any mentions of a stupid and insane idea Cartman thought of to speed up the process, such as freezing himself in order to avoid the whole waiting thing. Stan still remembered when Cartman first pitched the idea to them way back in elementary school. Stan still thought it was a stupid idea that would have just killed him rather than anything.
"W-why does Kenny owe Cartman a new microwave?" Butters asked suddenly, brows furrowed in confusion.
Stan figured he may as well say it. He turned to him and held up four fingers, "Rule number 4: Kenny, under no circumstances, is allowed in the kitchen." He put down his hand, "Fight him off if you have to. He nearly burnt down the house last time we let him have free reign."
"That's because Kenny right here," Kyle put his hand on Kenny's shoulder whom was donning an innocent expression on his face, "has absolutely no patience for cooking."
"He thought that microwaving a metal pot filled with fucking macaroni would make it cook faster. Before I knew it, the microwave was on fire and it practically exploded. Kinny isn't allowed anywhere near there anymore and he owes me a new microwave," his eyes narrowed slightly at said blond. "If you have to, don't hesitate to to force him out. Violence is encouraged."
Stan really couldn't blame Kenny for the incident. The kid grew up on Pop Tarts and Hot Pockets all of his life. He had little to no exposure when it came to physics and rules in the kitchen. Stan couldn't argue with the rule, though. It's probably for the best that Kenny has no remaining access to the toaster, oven, or stove top.
Kyle handed over the next item of tribute. It was something he brought regularly that Stan and Kenny absolutely loved: Super Smash Brothers Brawl, the king of Wii games. Cartman, however, didn't look impressed. It wasn't because he didn't like the game, it was because whenever he played against them all, he almost always lost. Usually he forced everyone to stop after losing so many times. After the first couple of times that happened, Stan and the others figured they'd let him win once in awhile so they wouldn't have to deal with Cartman whining about how they were all cheating or ganging up on him.
Carman tossed it on the table, knowing that if he were to say "no" to it, the others would put their foot down. He tried pulling that once months ago and it got ugly. Stan's pretty sure Kyle kept bringing the game just to spite Cartman.
"Butters, since you knew about the rule, you should have an item of tribute," it wasn't a question. Cartman fully expected him to have something ready. It's a good thing that Butters' crazy mom gave him a giant thing of cookies. Which reminded him, Stan should seriously ask Butters how many batches of cookies she was planning to make and if they were either for home, for work, or just her freaking out for some reason.
Cartman looked surprised by the tub and didn't hesitate to reach in and steal a bite in order to taste it. Butters looked extremely nervous, which wasn't unusual whenever he was around Cartman nowadays.
While still chewing the cookie, he said, "I'm impressed Butters, these are actually something else. You can stay."
Butters smile reached ear to ear at that. He clasped his hands together and said cheerfully, "By golly, really? Thanks Cartman! If you want, I can make us some chocolate chip muffins next week. I found an old recipe book in the basement when my parents had me clean it out a couple of weeks ago. It was written by Great-Grandma Gertrude and-"
"Yeah, yeah. Sounds great, Butters," Cartman waved the rest of what Butters was going to say off. He grabbed another cookie.
Stan was now very happy that Butters was able to join their whole charade.
Everyone knew Butters was an excellent baker. It was practically genetic in his family. With every generation, the next baker born was better than the one before. If his mom's cookies kicked ass, than these would be the best damn muffins Stan's ever had.
"You guys are dismissed."
Stan exchanged looks with Kyle before they headed towards the first of the many places filled to the brim with the pillows they were told to get. He nudged shoulders with Kyle, "This time, do you want to collect and I hold all the pillows."
"Sure, why not."
Sometimes it felt like his height was making a mockery of itself. Kyle's fingers sought for the edge of the pillow. His fingertips brushed against its floral fabric, but Kyle wasn't able to get enough of a grip to grab it, even when he was standing on his tip toes. It was just out of his reach. He huffed in frustration, pointedly ignoring the pleasant hum coming from Stan.
Kyle could have sworn the pillows just last week were placed on a shelf lower than it was at the moment. Now the contents of the shelf he was thinking of were replaced with extra towels while the pillows were left to rot at the very top. Cartman probably noticed that Stan and Kyle interchanged between the role of collecting the pillows from the shelves and bedrooms and the role of carrying them to the living room. Fatass probably messed with the shelves just to give Kyle a hard time. Kyle wouldn't admit defeat though. He wouldn't let the fatass get the best of him.
After a few more meager attempts, Kyle began to ground his teeth in frustration. A sudden cough drew his attention. He turned around, crossing his arms with a small frown enveloping his expression. Stan smiled at him sheepishly behind the load of pillows he was carrying and asked, "Want me to get those?"
"No, I've got it," Kyle bit out as his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He didn't want to admit that he needed help, especially when he was so close to overcoming Cartman's ploy. All he needed to do was slowly draw the pillow out by hopping a few times and quickly flicking his hand behind it.
After a few more attempts, there was still no luck.
Just as he was about to swear in frustration at his inability to solve the problem, he felt soft lips press against the back of his neck as warm arms enveloped his middle. Heat rushed to his cheeks as Stan began to kiss a tender spot behind his ear. Kyle tilted his head to the side. All frustration was soon replaced with want and arousal.
Against his better judgement, Kyle turned around and returned the kiss. He began it softly, brushing his lips against Stan's in a series of light kisses before he deepened it, moving his lips in rhythmic movements in response to Stan's happy hum. Stan teased his bottom lip, encouraging Kyle to open his mouth and allow Stan's tongue entrance.
A sudden realization dawned on Kyle as Stan was pulling his right arm down from above Kyle's head. Stan was grabbing the pillows for him while Kyle was a little...preoccupied. He drew back his head far enough to mutter an annoyed "bastard" before continuing where they left off.
Stan just smiled like an idiot into the kiss as he dropped the pillow on the ground in preference of running a hand through Kyle's curly hair.
After a few minutes of kissing one another in the hallway, Kyle heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching them. Before they could properly pull themselves away from one another, Kenny put something in Stan's back pocket before patting his ass while saying, "I think you two might need this more than I do." He snickered as he readjusted the pile of blankets he was carrying.
Stan grabbed whatever it was that had been put into his pocket with a look of annoyance on his face, before it was replaced with sheer mortification. In his hand was a packet of condoms, the exact ones Kenny was proudly waving at them outside Cartman's house. Kyle turned his head towards Kenny, folded his arms, and asked, "Really, Kenny?"
Kenny turned around without halting in his path and said, "You guys looked like you were just about to fuck each other right in the hallway. What did you expect me to do?"
A loud and strangled "what!" came from the living room. No doubt it was from Cartman.
Kyle sighed. With the moment between him and Stan lost, he jerked his head towards the hallway that led to the living room, "We probably should head back before fatass gets an aneurysm of some sort over there."
After fixing up their now slightly disheveled appearance, they grabbed all of the pillows they had gathered throughout the house and followed Kenny's path back to the living room. They were met with Cartman's look of disapproval, no doubt from Kenny's loud overexaggerated announcement of Kyle and Stan's latest… activities. Kyle was still irritated at him about that.
Butters suddenly burst through the room, breaking any tension that had begun to develop between all of them over what wasn't being said. He had come in with all smiles and an armful of snacks. He carefully spread the contents on the table, mindful of the open soda cans. "I got all of the snacks you have: Cheesy Poofs, Doritos, Peachy O's, Midnight Milky Way, Chex Mix for Kyle, some MMs-"
"We can see that, Butters," Cartman interrupted with no real malice in his voice. Kyle could tell he, quite frankly, just wanted to stop Butters from listing everything he brought when they could all recognize it in a glance.
Speaking of which, "Where's the popcorn?"
Butters looked at them sheepishly and looked like he was resisting the urge to rub his knuckles together, "W-well, that's the thing. I-I couldn't find any."
Cartman stood up at that. He pulled out his phone and quickly punched in a number-most likely his mom, knowing him. After a ring or two, Kyle could make out a woman's voice. "Yeah, mom, we're fine," Cartman huffed. "Look I-mom, you don't need to. Mom! Are you even listening to me, I'm….yes. Ugh. Yes, I know that already. I- MOM, did you remember to get us popcorn?!"
Kyle was stifling a snicker throughout the exchange, in fact, most of them were.
"Well, why didn't you buy some if you knew we were out?... You thought we'd manage without it? But mom, it's a manover for fuck's sake," Cartman sighed dramatically, clearly frustrated but mumbled a moment later into the phone, "It's okay mom, I understand that you were busy. I- Fine. Where is it?... Thanks mom-Yes. Ugh. I love you, too. Bye," Cartman put his phone back in his pocket, looking a little disgruntled.
"Any luck?" Stan asked as he began arranging the mountain of pillows in preparation of the movie they were going to play in a bit.
"Mom left us some cash just in case we need it. One or two of us will have to run over to the Cash and Dash and buy some," he said, heading towards the kitchen to, no doubt, grab the money Liane had left.
Kyle raised a brow at Cartman and asked him, slightly bemused, "Do we really need popcorn for the movie, though? I mean look at all of the shit you have here. We can practically feed the entire country of Africa and still have leftovers."
"Just for that Kyle, you're going to get the popcorn."
Kyle breathed out in frustration. Of course.
Cartman turned his attention towards Kenny, "Kenny, you go, too. I don't trust the Jew enough with this task. He'd probably get some shitty knock-off brand if we left him to his own devices, and if Stan or Butters went along instead, he'd probably get them to go along with his shit." Cartman was right to distrust Kyle. He'd do just that if Cartman hadn't already predicted it.
"Why don't you get off your fat ass and come and get it yourself?" Kyle crossed his arms and calmly raised a brow in protests.
"Because Kahl," Cartman began like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Craig works weekends at the Cash and Dash."
Oh. Right. Kyle had almost forgotten about the deal Cartman had struck up with Craig: if Craig helped Cartman choose the best movie for them to watch every Friday, Cartman promised to not get him involved with whatever the group had planned as a result of it.
"Come on Kenny, let's just go get the damn popcorn and be done with it," Kyle turned around and grabbed his shoes, already hating the time that they were wasting in order to please Jabba the Hutt.
The Cash and Dash was a concrete gas station built not too far from Cartman's house and was owned by Lyle Strokes, a middle-aged man with vicious temper and an unforgiving heart. Although the Cash and Dash didn't have much to offer in terms of products, it covered the bare essentials and the inside was relatively clean. Overall, it wasn't too shabby of a place.
When the glass door was pushed open, a bell rang signifying Kyle and Kenny's arrival. Its sweet toll raised the attention of the Cash and Dash's only present employee, Craig Tucker, and, as a result, pulled his gaze away from his Red Racer comic book for a split second. Upon realizing who the two customers were, he casually flipped them off before returning to his comic book.
"Hello to you, too, Craigifer," Kenny teased. He snickered when he earned himself another flip of the bird.
"What do you want?"
"A blowjob would be nice, but we both know who you're saving that for," Kenny responded cheekily. He was given another show of Craig's middle finger. Three and counting.
Kenny briefly wondered if he could make a record here if he kept at it. If he remembered correctly, his record was twenty-three in a span of two minutes.
"Don't worry, we're just here for some popcorn. Which is in…?" Kyle asked Craig, blatantly ignoring Kenny's behaviour. He most likely didn't want to encourage him any further. Too bad for him, Kenny didn't usually need any sort of encouragement to irritate those around him for shits and giggles half of the time.
"On the right hand side of aisle three. It should be next to the hot chocolate," Craig grunted.
"Thanks, dude," Kyle waved at him as another way of saying thanks before departing.
This left Kenny alone and, after a few failing attempts to grab Craig's attention, this left Kenny bored. As a result, he took this as an opportunity to explore what else this gas station had to offer. Without Lyle here, Kenny didn't have to worry about him breathing down his back every second he was in it. Ever since his brother, Kevin, was caught stealing a Snickers bar from the store, Lyle had a grudge against every member of the McCormick family, which, unfortunately, also included Kenny.
There wasn't anything too special about the store. There were both popular and generic brands lining the shelves with an occasional treasure hidden behind all of the beef jerky and bags of candy, such as Pee Cola, Ayds, and Golden Gaytime.
He was so keen on finding another strange food item to try out, he hadn't noticed the man in front of him that was just closing the glass freezer door of the dairy section. As a result, Kenny ran into the man, and would have knocked the person off balance if it were not for the steady hand Kenny gave.
He quickly spouted out an apology to the man he had run in to, taking a few steps back with his arms raised in order to look non-threatening. When his gaze focused on the person in front of him, his hasty apology stopped in mid-sentence.
The man standing before him looked extremely ill. His skin was pasty and his face was drenched with sweat that pooled over the lids of his eyes and the contours of his face, giving him a sickly sheen. There were bags under his eyes and it was clear that he was suffering flu-like symptoms. He breathed solely out of his mouth as mucous slid down from his nose.
What was especially odd was the state of his skin. Blisters lined along his forehead, irritated and angry. His shoulder was encased with what looked like a large bruise, swollen with who knows what. On his cheeks, skin was flaking off and, in some places, was tearing off completely, revealing sore flesh.
The most notable detail, however, was the bandage wrapped loosely around his wrist attached to the hand that was holding onto a milk jug he had just he had just image of Mr. Stotch briefly flashed through his mind, but he shrugged it off seeing as the bandages were the only similarity between the two. Unlike this man, Mr. Stotch wasn't roaming around in an old battered robe looking like he had just risen from the dead.
The man stared blankly at Kenny in response. There was no indication that he even registered what had happened between them. In fact, all the man was doing was repeatedly opening and closing his mouth.
"You okay, man?" Kenny cautiously asked, careful to make some distance between the two of them.
Said man started to walk forward, not even acknowledging that Kenny was obstructing his path. Kenny was forced to move out of the man's way in order to avoid another collision. Kenny watched as he approached Craig and tossed a few bills on the counter before he walked out without exchanging any further interaction.
Craig merely shrugged and stuffed all of it into the register, paying no mind to the excess amount of cash he had just been given. It was almost like he was used to this whole charade.
"What do you think that was all about?" Kyle nudged Kenny's elbow, rousing Kenny out of his churning thoughts.
"I have no idea," Kenny turned towards Kyle, jerking his thumb in the general direction the man headed towards. "Did you at least get a good look at that guy? He looked downright fucked up."
"Not really, no. I was just heading up front when I noticed the guy pay Craig twice of what he owed him. And here I thought the Black family was the only one who could afford to waste a couple of bucks like that," Kyle's brows were furrowed at the strangeness of the situation.
Kenny chuckled to himself in spite of the ordeal. He couldn't help but imagine Cartman cracking some sort of Anti-Semitic joke at Kyle's words. Cartman was right, sometimes people adopted their stereotypes without them realizing it.
Kyle handed Craig their boxful of popcorn without a second thought and, as he rang up the only item they were purchasing, being the nosey-type that he is, Kyle couldn't help but ask him, "Do you know what was up with the previous customer you checked out?"
Craig raised a brow in response to Kyle's question, but otherwise didn't signify any cause for alarm or even that anything was odd about his previous interaction, "Frank Willis? He's been buying milk every few hours since Thursday. Probably delirious from the flu."
"And you're perfectly fine with him not knowing that?" Kyle gave him a look that awfully reminded Kenny of Mrs. Broflovski. He'd have to make a note to tease him about that later.
"Not my problem," Craig shrugged his shoulders with indifference. "That'll be $3.19."
Has Cartman ever mentioned how much he hated playing SSBB against other people?
With the mechanics of the game and how easy it was to lose track of his character at some points amidst all of the chaos, it was a wonder that no one else thought the whole thing was just stupid. Him losing the past seven rounds had nothing to do with the fact that SSBB wasn't that great of a game. No, seriously.
Stan shouldn't even be allowed to play Ike, and who thought that Butters could do pretty well as Princess Peach. Fucking Peach! Of all of the characters he can choose, of course he would choose the sissiest looking one. He shouldn't even be surprised. What he was surprised about was that Butters was actually good. Cartman should be the one kicking his ass, not the other way around.
Cartman was so focused on finally earning himself a win as Bowser, and bnot/b Metaknight as Stan had suggested he use, that he didn't hear the front door open.
"Got the popcorn," Kyle practically shouted from the front door.
"Awesome, Dude. We're playing your game right now," Stan called out in response.
Cartman's eyes flickered briefly in order to see Kenny and Kyle walk into his living room before he focused them back on the task at hand.
"How many matches have you played so far?" Kyle further inquired as he sat beside Stan on the couch.
"About six or seven. I've won about four of those and Butters won the rest. He's pretty good for a beginner," Stan said just as his character, Ike, was crushed by Bowser's down-b maneuver only for Bowser to be smacked by Peach's side-b attack. Cartman let out a growl of frustration.
Cartman wanted to set them all straight, that Butters wasn't as great as Stan was saying he was and that the only reason why either of them were winning so often, especially Butters, was that they kept using cheap ass moves against him, but the reason he hadn't was because it'd break his concentration. Speaking of breaking concentration, Kenny was whispering something to Butters. Cartman gritted his teeth at the sound. All he wanted to do was finally whoop their sorry asses and prove to them how a victory can be achieved when one uses actual skill rather than cop out moves.
A minute passed by and all that could be heard in the room was frantic button pushing and their characters' war cries as they fought one another, that is, until there was a sudden turn of events in the game. It seemed that Cartman's superiority was finally showing in his gameplay, because one minute Bowser was getting shit on by his opponents and in the next his character was taking out both Ike and Peach like they were nothing.
A wide grin overtook Cartman's face as he blasted their final lives to kingdom come using Bowser's final smash. It was explosive. It was ruthless. It was glorious. It was all Cartman wanted and so much more.
As the screen announced the winner to all of them, Cartman set down his controller on the table and leaned back against the couch with a large smug smile on his face, "And that's how it's done. See what happens when real skill is applied rather than cheap combos?" He turned to Stan in order to give him a condescending grin, "And without using Metaknight."
"Congratulations. So, does that mean we're changing up the players?" Kyle asked curtly, grabbing the fourth and final Wii remote as Kenny took hold of the controller Cartman had just discarded, and properly pissing Cartman off.
Right when a new match started, with Kenny playing as Pit and Kyle playing as Marth, did Cartman choose to respond, "'Ey, who says we're going to continue playing this game?"
"Wait, so we let you win for nothing? Come on dude, I wanted to play a bit longer," Stan complained, but it looked like he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.
And he should.
This comment made Cartman's blood boil. All of the pride and joy he had previously felt barrelled itself town into the very depths of Hell.
He got off of the couch and approached the outlet that was closest to the TV. He pulled out the cord that was connected to the Wii while he let out a high-pitched, "Oops." With that, he started up the DVD player and sat back down on the couch. "Now that we have all of that bullshit behind us, we can start up the main event."
"You can't just do that Cartman," Kyle interjected as Cartman grabbed a wooden box from underneath the couch.
"Whatever do you mean, Kahl?" Cartman asked innocently, fluttering his lashes for good measure.
"You know very well what you did, fatass," Kyle snapped back, tossing the controller haphazardly onto the table knowing when he'd lost.
"It's not my fault if the Wii decides to just quit on you guys. Besides, aren't you guys more interested in what movie we're watching?" Cartman asked, knowing that if he steered the conversation in a different direction, the others would, more or less, happily go along with the change of events.
"W-what movie are we watchin', Cartman?" Butters began hesitantly and, for good measure, he added, "What's in the box, if ya don't mind me askin'?"
Cartman smirked, jerking his thumb in Butters general direction as he told Kyle triumphantly, "See? The movie succeeds SSBB. End of discussion."
"B-but Cartman, I never said I didn't want ta play still-"
"End of discussion," Cartman reasserted. He then opened the box and began to pull out all of the tools of their trade.
Everyone around him begrudgingly resigned to his authority and began situating themselves more comfortably around the living room as Cartman explained to Butters what he was exactly doing, "This box contains everything we need to begin the main event: the Betting Pool. Essentially, we'll be making predictions based off of these questions Craig gave us." Cartman pulled out an old tattered notebook that had seen better days. He opened it up to the latest written entry. On the top right-hand margin was that Friday's date.
"Each of us will get the chance to write down our predictions. No one is allowed to look until the very end. Whoever gets the most questions wrong will have to pay a price of our choosing. What do you say Butters, you interested or are you too much of a pussy to participate?"
"I ain't a pussy. I-I'm up for anythin' ya throw at me!" Butters replied with a small fire burning in his eyes.
Cartman returned the grin Butters was giving him before looking at the others, "Okay, assholes, get ready to use your brains for once. The movie we'll be watching tonight is a horror movie called 'You're Next.' Craig says that the movie isn't all that special but it'll serve its purpose and it's still enjoyable to watch, so we'll just have to trust him. If there isn't truth to his words, you all know what to do."
Cartman handed out a blank card and a pen that had been inside the box to everyone in the room. "Craig says that we should start making predictions once all of the main characters are at the dinner table for the family get together. All of the characters we need will be introduced by then. There are ten in total. Kinny, read off this week's questions."
Kenny pulled himself off of the floor and grabbed the worn notebook from Cartman's hands. He sat on the couch's armrest and immediately began reading Craig's neat handwriting in his best show host-voice, "Keep these questions in mind guys and get your observation caps on. There'll only be one loser tonight and you sure as hell don't want to be it. Here we go: 'Who will be the first to die? Who will be the most obnoxious? Who will be the most badass? Who will be the last to die? Who will survive, if anyone?' And, finally, whoever is the closest to the right answer of this question will be automatically prevented from losing this whole thing. The question is 'How will the movie end?'"
Stan stood up from the couch and offered his hand to everyone in the middle, "May the best guesser win."
It was almost surreal walking alongside everyone in the dead of night. The linear rows of street lamps illuminated the group's trek home and acted as their sole source of light. Clouds dusted the sky and a gentle breeze sent a chill through Butters' whole being.
Butters was never allowed out this late, especially when he was with a group of friends. If his parents knew what his Friday night had entailed, he'd be grounded for life and sent to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting as soon as possible.
"I still can't believe you went through with it, dude. I was just joking when I suggested it," Stan chuckled lowly to himself as he admired the consequences of his friend's defeat.
"Well, now you tell me. Oh well, at least it'll be covered up most of the time. I've got to admit, it's kinda growing on my though. Good thing too, because this thing ain't coming off anytime soon... or, well, ever," Kenny shrugged like it was no big deal. Butters couldn't help but admire his indifference, knowing that if he were in the same situation, he wouldn't be reacting the same way at all.
"Seriously, though, you're okay with having the word 'Titties' eloquently written on your inner wrist for the rest of your life?" Kyle asked with his brows raised with curiosity.
After a moment or two of contemplation, stopping in the middle of the road all the while, he presented the tattoo into the limelight and proclaimed proudly, "Sure. Why not? It let's everyone know what I like. Hell, maybe I should add 'Dicks' and 'Ass' to the list, too for good measure."
Butters couldn't help but laugh a bit at that, imagining the ridiculousness of the whole thing. He, too, couldn't help but feel a bit of relief at the notion that Kenny also liked the, er, other parts. "So, what're we doin' next?" Butters asked them all curiously as they stood aimlessly around Kenny. He hoped it wasn't anything too extreme seeing as it was hours past his bedtime anyways (it was about 10 o'clock), and he felt like he could barely stay awake as it is.
"I'm up for another movie," Stan suggested, glancing expectantly in Cartman's direction.
Cartman simply ran his hand through his hair before he finally relented, "Fine."
Butters looked at them nervously. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to risk losing at such a dangerous game again so soon, especially when he was only one question short from losing altogether. His worry must have been easy to read, because Kenny lightly bumped shoulders with him, "Don't worry, Butterscotch. The Betting Pool is only a once a week occurrence. In order to play again you'll have to wait until next week."
Butters smiled at the endearing nickname Kenny occasionally called him.
"Hate to change the subject and all, but, Kenny, isn't that the guy from the Cash and Dash?" Kyle interjected, turning the entire group's attention towards a staggering figure in the distance. Butters couldn't see the man very well due to the poor lighting. It looked like he was holding a jug of milk and was donning a bathrobe. He, too, was unsteadily heading straight towards the group.
"Yeah, you're right. That's Frank Willis," Kenny looked at the guy incredulously. "I'd recognize that dirty bathrobe anywhere."
"Um, guys, I think we should probably get the hell out of here," Stan said, taking a few steps back.
But it was much too late.
A high-pitched shriek sounded from the man as he picked up speed and barreled straight into-
"Kenny!" Butters yelled as his best friend was tackled to the ground.
It was like something out of a nightmare. Kenny's attacker looked twisted and distorted. His eyes were bugged and glazed over with green mucous pouring out of his tear ducts. Chunks of flesh looked like they had been forcefully torn from his skin. His throat looked bulbous and bruised. Contusions raked the rest of his body, as well. The milk the man had been carrying had been dropped carelessly to the ground in preference of using his hands to pin Kenny down as his teeth dove straight into his neck causing blood to spill.
It wasn't long before everyone kicked into high gear as Kenny's terrified "what the fuck"'s and "are you fucking kidding me"'s rang out into the night followed by his attacker's ear-piercing cries. Butters could hear his heartbeat reverberate in his eardrums. He had to think fast. If they did nothing, Kenny could very well die if the man bit him in just the right spot. Kenny was his most important person. Without him, Butters would have nothing.
Without thinking, Butters grabbed hold of the discarded milk jug and proceeded to hit Kenny's attacker with it as Cartman used his incredible strength to try and pry the man off of Kenny with Stan and Kyle trying to pull Kenny away from this monster.
It wasn't until the milk jug actually broke from the sheer force of hitting him that Mr. Willis stopped attacking. Cartman dropped the now unconscious man to the ground without any thought for his safety. Mr. Willis collapsed onto the floor, writhing and twitching on the ground in an ungraceful heap.
By the end of it, Butters was breathing heavily and soaked to the bone with 1% milk. His body hurt slightly from the struggle, but Kenny was now safe. Butters blinked a few times in wonder, finally noticing the sound of a siren blaring in the distance and that all of the lights in the neighborhood were on.
He glanced towards Kenny, who was now standing with the help of Stan. Kyle tore off a part of his white dress shirt and pressed it against the bite wound on Kenny's shoulder in order to try and stop the bleeding and let Kenny take over once he realized what Kyle was doing exactly.
"Guys, we need to get the hell out of here," Cartman said while he gingerly stepped over Mr. Willis. He started inching towards the direction of his house indicating that everyone should follow him.
"Shouldn't we wait for the police?" Stan asked him with a concerned look. "I mean, this was all in self-defense."
"Hate to break it to you, but that can't be easily proven. Willis over here is hurt more than Kenny and people tuned in just as Butters, here, started beating the guy with the milk jug. If anything, we'll be charged for assault if we stay," Cartman reasoned, gesturing for them to follow. "If we leave now, we might be able to avoid all of that bullshit."
Butters felt conflicted, but before he could make a decision, the others had already made theirs and were fleeing the area before anyone was able to identify them. Butters couldn't do much else but follow, "I-I don't know, fellas. This seems like a bad idea."
"Don't be retarded, Butters," Cartman absentmindedly retorted.
Kenny pulled himself away from Stan's side and slowed his pace so that he could allow Butters to catch up with him. Butters glanced down briefly at Kenny's left leg. It seemed that Mr. Willis left Kenny with a slight limp, but nothing that he couldn't easily recover from after a good night's sleep, Butters reckoned.
"Frank Willis will be okay. The police will be bring him to the hospital and get him looked at. You can't really do much damage with a jug of milk. As for you," Kenny grabbed Butters hand in order to pick up their pace. The gesture caused butterflies to flitter in Butters' tummy, "we need to get you out of here before your parents find out what happened. We want you to be able to come next Friday after all." Kenny gave him a wink before turning his attention back to the others.
Their hands never lost their hold of one another until they were all safely back inside Cartman's living room.
"What do we do now?" Kenny asked, wincing when Kyle washed the bite mark with an alcoholic swab. Kyle had insisted that Kenny should get the wound cleaned and dressed using the first-aid kit he found in the pantry. No use risking an infection, Kyle had said. Luckily for Kenny it didn't look deep enough for stitches.
As for Butters, he really needed to get out of these wet clothes.
"Well, Stan did suggest we watch another movie. Cartman, do you have anything in mind?" Kyle asked absentmindedly as he began to clumsily dress Kenny's teeth marks.
"Already on it."
It wasn't long before everyone was comfortably sitting on the couch. The pillows Stan and Kyle had gathered earlier that day surrounded them all. It felt almost as if it were a giant comfy fortress.
At one end of the couch, Kyle and Stan were sharing a blanket. Kyle was nestled into Stan's side while Stan wrapped an around around his shoulders, absentmindedly playing with his red curls. Cartman was in the middle of the group, hoarding most of the pillows. In his arms was a giant bowl of popcorn, now half empty by the time they were about ten minutes into the movie "Iron Sky." Butters was wedged in between Cartman and Kenny. With his Hello Kitty pajamas now on, he had a pillow in his lap and a blanket drawn over most of his body, his was the only thing seen poking out of the folds of the over-sized patchwork quilt. As for Kenny, he was lazily resting against the armrest of the couch with his feet lying on top of Butters' and Cartman's legs.
Butters eyed Kenny curiously. He was acting a little strange.
When they had been watching "You're Next" earlier that night, Kenny had been asking rhetorical questions left and right to the point that Cartman had thrown a pillow or two at Kenny's head to try and get him to stop talking. Butters' always liked this side of Kenny, the side where he was comfortable enough with the people around him to say everything that was on his mind and become much more animate than usual. It was very different from the times when he was in front of a bunch of adults and strangers, almost polar.
But this time, Kenny didn't say much of anything. The others seemed to have noticed it but didn't feel the need to point it out, because they were filling in the void with their own ridiculous questions and comments. Kenny just sat there, fingering the bandage that covered his bitemark and sticking his tongue in between the gap of his two front teeth. Butters reckoned he must be deep in thought about something or other.
Kenny must have noticed that Butters was staring at him, because the next thing Butters knew, Kenny directed a smile his way before ruffling his hair affectionately. Warmth pooled in the pit of Butters' stomach. He couldn't help but return the cheeky grin before getting himself more comfortable and finally be able to focus on the movie. If something was wrong, Kenny would tell Butters right away, right? They were best friends afterall.
Because he was finally able to relax, his sleepiness was finally able to catch up to him. It wasn't long before he found himself drifting off and falling asleep to the sound of a black-turned-white man screaming at Nazis in the background.
A loud, echoing laugh disrupted the sleep of every remaining dreamer in the room. All memories of strange dreams filled with chaos and nonsense were forgotten within seconds after being woken with a start. For a particular dreamer, nauseousness replaced those dreams, causing bile to rise up in his throat.
With no warning, Kenny scrambled out of his sleeping bag and rushed to the nearest bathroom. As soon as he reached the toilet, he emptied the contents of his stomach, staining the pristine bowl red with Australian licorice. It was a good thing he decided to ditch wearing the scarf last night, otherwise he might not have made it to the toilet in time.
Once he was sure he wouldn't puke his guts out again, he hesitantly pulled himself away from the toilet brim and flushed down the mess he made. Afterwards, he promptly rinsed out his mouth, pausing to look at himself in the mirror. Kenny furrowed his brow with concern at his current state. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was dappled with a thin layer of sweat. He was paler than usual, too, which made his light freckles stand out more than normal. He looked like a wreck. He just hoped that washing his face would help a bit.
All of the junk food last night must not have agreed with him, and, coupled with the fact that most of them stayed up until five in the morning, it was doomed to be a disaster for him in the morning. He didn't even want to think that it had something to do with that bite wound Mr. Willis gave him last night. Last thing he needed was an infection of some kind, especially when his family couldn't afford to treat it. Even if they had any health insurance to cover most of it, which they don't, he'd probably die from the infection anyways-if that was indeed the case. Similar things have happened before.
A soft knock interrupted his worried thoughts, drawing his attention away from the mirror. "K-Kenny, you okay?" A nervous voice called from the other side of the door.
Kenny smiled, quickly wiping the remaining sweat and water from his face with the nearest hand towel before he began to respond, "Yeah, I'm fine, Butters. Probably a little hungover from all of the candy I ate." No need to cause unneeded concern. If he did die, Butters wouldn't remember anyways.
He'd just pretend he felt his usual one-hundred percent. He'd gotten really good at pretending that was the case over the years.
When he opened the door and saw Butters' face, he must not have suppressed his snickers fast enough, because Butters gave him a confused look. "What ya laughin' about? Ya thinkin' bout a joke ya heard before or somethin'?" Butters asked him with innocent blue eyes.
Okay, so Kenny felt a little guilty for what their group had done to Butters and he knew Butters would not be happy with him at all, but it wasn't enough to stop him from giving in and just laughing his ass off. His response seemed to just confuse Butters even more. He must have realized, though, that Kenny started laughing whenever he looked at Butters' face, because he poked his cheek experimentally, unknowingly smearing their handiwork even more, which immediately sent Kenny into another fit of shits and giggles. Butters huffed out with a mixture of annoyance and offense, "A-am I makin' a funny face? 'Cause ya know how much my parents don't like me makin' funny faces, and ya promised ya would let me know if I ever-"
Kenny quickly held out his hands in protest at the accusation and stopped Butters mid-sentence before he could head even further towards the wrong conclusion, guilt finally snaring around him like a vice, "No, it's nothing like that!"
"Then what is it? W-what are ya laughin' about, mister?" Butters asked him accusingly, poking his index finger into Kenny's chest in order to emphasize the seriousness of his words.
In order to save his breath, knowing that if he tried to explain why he was laughing there was always the possibility that Butters could misinterpret what he was trying to tell him, he lightly tugged the collar of his pajamas and pulled him in front of the mirror to show him himself.
Kenny couldn't help but play it up, waving his hands behind Butters head like he was presenting some masterpiece, all the while saying, "Tada!"
Butters didn't look as amused. His face had briefly adopted a surprised 'o' face before it gave into a slight frown. He leaned closer towards the mirror and delicately touched the added features drawn on his face while asking, "Gee willickers, w-what happened?"
Kenny rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, careful to avoid the bandage, knowing that Butters wasn't talking about how the crude drawings and random designs got on his face, but why. "I'll tell you only if you don't get mad at me."
Butters was silent for a moment, his mouth now a firm line as he thought it over. Kenny waited for his response with unease. Then Butters body seemed to fold in on itself a bit when he let out a long breath before murmuring, "I don't think I could ever get mad at ya, Kenny, or at least real mad."
Kenny gave him a soft smile before taking a breath and continuing with what he wanted to tell him, "I sorta didn't tell you about the last rule we have: rule five. This one is pretty complex and has some pretty damning consequences…" He trailed off a bit.
"K-Kenny, what did you get me into?" Butters looked legitimately scared at this point.
Okay, maybe Kenny shouldn't have begun it with the whole 'damning consequences' detail, but it's still something important to note. It was time to backtrack it a bit, "But rule five is still pretty harmless when you look at the big picture! There are boundaries in place that make sure of it. Trust me, everyone's had to deal with rule number five at least once, and I made sure everyone used washable marker instead of the usual permanent marker, this time."
Kenny tried to justify his reasoning to the best of his ability, of course leaving out out the fact that everyone bribed him to not warn Butters about it (it took quite a bit for him to give in), but it seemed to be of no use because Butters still looked pretty peeved about the whole thing. The poorly drawn dick on his face became distorted because of the stern expression he adopted.
Kenny briefly wondered if Butters would feel less targeted if he told him about the time the group gave Cartman a black face using permanent marker back in middle school. They all knew that Cartman was supposed to meet Wendy at the mall later that day to work on a group project, and, after Cartman decided to drench them all with a super soaker filled with deer piss, they had to get him back somehow. To their amusement, they later heard that Token happened to be with her and apparently they were pissed beyond belief at how 'insensitive' Cartman was. They didn't believe him when he said it was Kyle, Stan, and Kenny's fault, which was actually true for once. Cartman didn't speak to Kenny or the rest of the gang for a week after that.
"W-what's the rule exactly?"
"Whoever falls asleep first gets their face drawn on by everyone else-"
"Well, that doesn't seem so bad…"
"There's, um, there's a lot more to it than just that," Kenny gave him a guilty smile as they headed back towards the living room. "Rule number five states that the first person to fall asleep gets their face drawn on by everyone else. They also owe everyone one request that they can't say 'no' to, but, like I said before, there are boundaries set up. We can't make anyone do something that can fuck them up."
"So, what about the other fellas? What can't they do?" Butters looked at him curiously, but seemed a bit hesitant. No doubt wondering if he was being too nosy, which he wasn't.
Kenny counted off each finger as he named off each restriction, "You're not allowed to request Stan to drink alcohol. Kyle can't be put into a diabetic coma by forcing him to eat a ton of sugary shit or not allow him to take his insulin. I can't be forced to pay you or anyone what I can't afford. Cartman can't do anything awful that's related to his mom. Like I said before, the whole thing's pretty harmless once you look at the big picture."
Butters seemed to have calmed down a bit after that bit of information was given to him and the frown that had accompanied him for the past several minutes finally disappeared completely, much to Kenny's relief. Unfortunately, it came back once they walked into the living room and Cartman got a good look at Butters face and started laughing just as loud and obnoxious as he did this morning. It got on Kenny's nerves a bit.
Butters scowled and walked out of the room and into the kitchen saying, "I'm going ta wash this mess off my face."
"Oh, come on. You look great!" Cartman called out after him in between his uncontrollable fits of laughter. When Butters was no longer within view, he turned to Kenny in order to add, "I knew we should have used permanent marker, but you just had to spoil the fun."
"It's either that or having him never come to another one of these. I know you don't care either way, but I have needs, dude," Kenny playfully smacked Cartman's shoulder when saying the comment. He took a second to glance around the room and asked, "Hey, where's Kyle and Stan? They in one of your closets about to fuck, again?"
Cartman seemed to turn a bit green at the memory, seeing as he was the one who had caught them with their tongues practically down their throats (kinky). He scowled, "The Jew and his bitch are in the kitchen eating breakfast and Kahl's getting his insulin shot or some shit."
Kenny nodded, wishing he could just waltz his way into the kitchen and join them, but it wasn't worth getting tackled to the ground by fatass over here. Besides, he wasn't quite sure he could handle eating anything right now anyways.
"'Ey, Kinny, you want to pay off your debt, right?"
That caught Kenny's attention. He stared at Cartman for a long time and eventually responded with, "A McCormick always pays their debts."
"Great! Then you won't say 'no' when I ask you to help me out with something this afternoon. At 12:30, be sure to meet me at South Park High. If you do this, I'll pretend you never broke the microwave in the first place," Cartman smiled a smile that sent chills up Kenny's spine. What mess did he get into now?
But if he looked on the bright side, "Does this mean I'm allowed to go back into the kitchen?"
"I'll think about it." Cartman was probably just trying to get his hopes up. The cocktease.
"I got most of the marker off, but one of the wieners drawn on my face just doesn't seem ta want ta get off. You fellas did use washable marker, right?" Butters walked in, wiping a particular spot vigorously with a towel.
Kenny quickly looked towards Cartman with narrowed eyes. His best friend was staring at the ceiling with his arms behind his back, whistling innocently. Fatass probably did it when Kenny wasn't looking.
"Aw shucks, ya did, didn't ya?" Butters sighed with resignation. It didn't seem like he was blaming anyone in particular, just disappointed that it happened in general. "My parents aren't going ta be too pleased with this.
"We could try putting a bandaid over it before you leave," Kyle suggested as he and Stan appeared in the living room.
"When are you supposed to head home, anyways?" Stan asked with some curiosity as he began to change out of his pajamas and back into the clothes he was wearing yesterday, much to Kyle's distaste.
Butters eyes got really wide at that. It looked like his whole world had shattered before him. "Oh, jeez, I totally forgot ta check my phone! I'm goin' be in so much trouble!" He scrambled towards his messenger bag, abandoning the towel in the process, revealing that, yes, he still had a dick on his face, and dug into its pockets. He pulled out his iPhone and scrolled through his messages, a look of brief relief flittered across his face for just a moment.
"What's up?" Kenny couldn't help but ask as he walked up to Butters' side.
"It looks like I missed a few texts and a call or two, but it doesn't look like they're real angry. Just disappointed."
He showed Kenny one of the texts his dad had sent him: I'd really appreciate it if you picked up the phone once in your life, but we understand that you're having fun. Boys will be boys. Don't get into trouble now or we'll know.
Kenny didn't know what to think of it.
"The last text mom sent me was a bit of a doozy. Turns out dad got sick last night, so we'll have ta take care of him until he's in tip top shape again, y'know? Mom wants me home by ten and it's 9:45, so I don't have any time to dilly-dally," Butters explained as he packed what little he took out. He didn't bother changing into his actual clothes. He turned towards the others just as he finished packing all of his things, and with a soft smile Butters said, "Thanks so much for invitin' me, fellas. I had a really good time! Next Friday I'll be sure to bake everyone something myself and I'll even bring a movie or a game or two if ya want."
"No problem, dude. Can't wait," Stan smirked.
"You'll have to let us know how it goes with your parents," Kyle said just as he got out of the kitchen, handing Butters a band-aid before he could forget it./p
"Gee, thanks, Kyle," Butters' smile grew in size.
Out of instinct, Kenny grabbed the band-aid from Butters' hand before Butters knew what hit him. He opened its wrapper and placed it precariously over the dick so that it didn't show any of it. "There, you're good as gold now," Kenny smiled, clapping Butters on the back. "Don't forget to tell us about where you draw the line for rule number 5 on Monday."
Butters cheeks were slightly flushed, but he nodded. "I won't. Oh, and I'll call Cartman or someone that can get ahold of ya ta let ya know whether or not I can tutor ya tomorrow. It really depends on how my dad's feelin'. Hopefully it'll be okay, because we need ta brush you up on your English, mister."
Kenny nodded, "Sounds good."
As Butters left Cartman's house with a cheerful wave and headed a couple of houses down the road to his house, Kenny couldn't help but think back on Mr. Willis and Mr. Stotch's bandaged hand, hell, even his own bitten neck and the nauseousness he felt today. He hoped it was all a coincidence. That something wasn't rotten in South Park.
But with South Park, you never knew.
Kenny shouldn't have broken that microwave. He regretted it ever since the damn thing had short-circuited and had set him and the microwave on fire, killing him in the process. It hadn't been one of his favourite Fridays.
Kenny had the tendency to not think things through. It might have been ingrained in him due to his immortality or through genetics, seeing as his dad certainly hadn't thought hard about consequences. Unlike Kenny, when his dad died, there was no resurrection. Once dead, Kenny's dad stayed dead.
Although that had helped Kenny think more about the future, it still hadn't stopped him from destroying Cartman's microwave. Why did mac and cheese have to take twenty minutes to cook anyways? He heard from Cartman later that his mac and cheese had cooked faster using his method, but the taste wasn't worth the damages done.
Which was why he was currently on the roof of South Park High in order to earn money to pay off the microwave. How? By jumping from the main school building onto the detached gymnasium using his skateboard. It was all Cartman's idea. With only a small fee of $5, the people of South Park got to see Kenny do something stupid, again.
He couldn't blame them, really. It'd been months since South Park had experienced anything, well, exciting, by South Park's standards, to bide people's time. They were bound to come check this out. Kenny, himself, wasn't all too nervous about making the jump from building to building. He'd done it once before as the elusive Mysterion, after all. He did, however, still feel a bit under the weather, and he wasn't sure how that would affect his skateboarding abilities.
"Come on, Kinny! We don't have all day!" Cartman shouted from the school's parking lot, a decent sized crowd surrounding him. They were all staring at the orange-clad figure with a mixture of anticipation and boredom.
Kenny let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Although he knew that there wouldn't be many consequences if he were to miss, he still felt like he should take the time to think and ask himself what he was doing with his life. Anything to distract himself with the fact that if he missed, it'd still hurt like a bitch when he would die and not the good kind of hurt.
He tightened the strings of his hoodie and stared up at the hastily built ramp with a look of determination gleaming in his eyes. He began to skate towards the ramp. The wind that whipped past him sent thrills up his spine and, with his worries and state of health forgotten, a large, giddy grin overtook his hidden features.
With the speed he was currently going and the angle he was quickly approaching the ramp with, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to make it safely across. The taste of adrenaline further increased his revived mood. Paying off his debt would be easier than he had thought it would be.
But that feeling didn't last long.
Just as he was approaching the last few feet towards the ramp, something, or should he say, someone manifested itself right in front of his incoming path. Kenny's reflexes kicked in and he swerved just in time to avoid colliding with whoever it was all the while turning his head to get a good look at whoever completely tarnished his A-game.
"You," Kenny said smartly right when his board missed the ramp completely, hitting the edge of the rooftop instead. His body vaulted backwards off of the building. His last memory of that moment had been the triumphant smirk of Damien Thorn before he broke his neck on the parking lot pavement and died.
AN: If anyone's interested, the music artists I listened to while writing most of this are Locust Toybox, Boards of Canada, and Moshimoss (all of which can be found on Spotify).
As for Chapter 3, I've written a few paragraphs so far. The character POV's won't solely be Cartman's gang and there's going to be a lot going on throughout the town, so that'll be fun to write.