Same warnings and disclaimers apply. I hope you like this chapter. Lovesick Clyde is fun to write. Can I get one review, pretty please?
Week of Love
Monday
"Where did you find a boom box?" Token stared at Clyde in disbelief. The brunet was fiddling with the outdated machine, apparently trying to figure out how to insert the small mix tape he was clutching in his right hand. Token jumped suddenly at the little yelp Clyde gave when he finally managed to get the little bugger in. Clyde grinned brilliantly at Token, holding up the black boom box. He started to trek through the snow toward a grassy-colored two-story house. Token huffed, reluctantly following his friend. When they were a foot away from the front door they stopped any movement.
"You know Stan already did this with Wendy. Do you think we should," Token comically shrugged, "I don't know, plan to do something normal in order to get Stoley's attention!" he ranted. God, it was cold outside and it was getting darker by the second. Their parents were probably worried sick about them; to make it worse, to any outsider it must've looked like they were crazy, stalker, creepers. And Clyde wasn't even listening to him...
"Throw a couple of stones at the right window!" Clyde whispered, or rather his version of whispering, which was yelling. Token raised a black eyebrow. What was this? Cheesy Romance Cliché time? Clyde looked completely serious. He scooped up some snow-covered rocks from who knows where and dumped them in Token's gloved hand. He pointed to the right window on the second floor of the home, making throwing motions. Token eyed his best friend.
"I can see why Tweek and Craig never want to play charades with you," Token murmured. "Why am I the one throwing the stones? Shouldn't you be doing this?" Clyde tilted his head in confusion, resembling a pudgy puppy. It was more adorable than Token would've liked to admit.
"Aren't you my wingman though," came Clyde's subdued rebuttal.
"Yeah, a wingma—"
"And you said you would help me with whatever I needed to gain Kevin's attention. And you said you'd help me win the heart of the biggest anti-social nerd of all time! You said you'd be there whenever I needed you: and now I need you, but you hate me and you're breaking a promise. You don't value our relationship! Why can't we be like Style!" Clyde whimpered, salty tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. He even sniffled once or twice, beginning to look like a kicked puppy. Clyde started to shake and his brow furrowed, the whimpers were starting to become louder… oh God, he was sucked into it.
"I'll do it, Clyde. Just stop crying. You're worst than Waterworks Wanda in Algebra," Token said. He pooled all the rocks into one hand, reaching into his front pocket to take out a wad of tissues (as Clyde's best friend it was important to always have at least three tissues and some cash for tacos with you), handing it to his brunet friend. Clyde gratefully accepted them, dabbing his eyes.
"Thank you, Tokeny," Clyde threw an arm around him. Token glared lightly at his friend. He began the task of hurling rocks at the window. Each rock bounced harmlessly off the glass barely creating an audible tap. When there were no more rocks left, Token glanced at Clyde.
"Well, I guess that's all we can do. We tried our best. We should go home now, come on." Token started to walk away, expecting to hear the soft crunch of snow trailing behind him. He waited for a few seconds, but when there were no sounds except the light night breeze, he whirled around, only to see his friend holding a baseball sized dark rock. "THE FUCK, CLYDE! Please, don't tell me you're goin—" the sentence died in his throat.
Token watched with horrified eyes as Clyde chucked the rock at the window. Not to his surprise the glass shattered upon impact, and all the lights in the house immediately turned on. He could hear dogs barking, and see other houses around them turning on lights! He raced over to Clyde who had turned on the boom box, the mix tape starting to play. In the back of his mind he registered it as Kingdom Hearts' Dearly Beloved, but there were more pressing matters to think of. He and Clyde had to get out of there!
Thoroughly panicked, he grabbed Clyde's wrist trying to pull him along, but dammit, this was hard! Clyde was glued to his spot, reciting overrated poems and pickup lines: "Roses are red, violets are blue, Kevin Stoley I never follow the herd, so, you should become my nerd!
"Did I just die? I think I just saw heaven, which is you by the way!
"If you were booger I'd pick you first!"
If Token weren't so busy trying to move his enamored friend he would of slapped his forehead. Where did he get these pick up lines? Butters or Kenny perhaps.
"If beauty were time, you'd be an eternity! Babe, you're so sweet, you put Hershey's outta business. If I could rearrange the alphabet, I would put 'U' and 'I' together. You be the Dairy Queen and I'll be your Burger King: You treat me right, and I'll do it your way.
"My love for you is like diarrhea, I just can't hold it in," Clyde continued on and on. Seriously, where did he get these? These were horrible! His bestie should've of stuck to Romeo and Juliet or a poem by Shakespeare. These were… God, he didn't have a word for it.
"Kevin," Clyde persisted, calling out to his dearest loved one, "if sexy were a crime you'd be guilty as charged!" Token stopped for a minute and just about everything else too. He did not just go that far.
"Clyde Donovan, you better get off my property with your shitty music and horrible pickup lines before Mr. Slave and I come down there and beat the shit out of you!" the very familiar voice of Mr. Garrison yelled from the right window on the house they were currently standing in front of. Token and Clyde blanched when Mr. Slave appeared decked in leather with his face covered in a white facial. He waved merrily to them below before closing the curtains.
Clyde turned toward the Token, all color seemed to be drained from his face. "Plan B?" he said weakly looking ready to puke his guts.
"Plan B," Token agreed, mirroring his best friend.