AN: Well then here is chapter 2 of the Told You So saga. Thanks again to my partner in crime and royal adviser, KC for the magnificent job of betaing. If there's any grammar fuck ups it's probably my fault. Transferring documents to fanfiction seems to like making my words stick together. Believing me, it's annoying. I leave you now to read :D (

PS- THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING MY FIRST CHAPTER! Or even reading it for that matter. It makes Brittany a very happy girl.

Phase 2: The Unlucky and the Hunted

I love coffee, have I ever told you that before? If I didn't I'm sure you've somehow managed to notice that me and coffee are very close friends. In fact, I drink it so often I wouldn't be surprised if my insides smelled like Harbucks' caramel macchiatos. Is that healthy? Oh man, I hope it's nothing too serious…Anyways, it's like the only thing that can ever successfully calm me down. The sad part ist that while it does trick, whatever inner peace I gain only lasts for a few minutes. I think it might just be the actual process of drinking it that does the trick, but either way, on an average day-to-day basis I take in about…8-10 full thermoses of coffee. I don't sleep much either so that includes late night lattes as well.

After Cartman's intrusion, my perfect day took the plummet to total disaster. It took 5 full cups of piping hot dark Colombian roast to calm me down enough to remove me from my fetal position on the cafeteria floor and somehow by divine damnation, I ended up here, stuck waiting outside Mr. Mackey's office with the other neer doer, Craig--Me here for disrupting and scaring the crap out of everyone in the lunch room, and Craig for punching Eric for freaking me out and giving the finger to the staff. Again.

I guess you could say I really lucked out when Craig slugged Cartman. I don't think I could have handled what he else he had to say and at least now I can buy some time before I have to face him again. Why? Because Cartman is ridiculously persistent and he won't stop until he get's whatever he wants. There's no way I can get away with avoiding him! He'd probably hunt me down even if I tried to flee the country! A hiccup of panic rises in my throat and I clutch my current coffee cup frantically. I seriously need to quit thinking about this.

Instead, I cast my eyes downward and take in the creamy foam swaying gently with the rippling coffee--rippling because, naturally, my hands are going off like a jackhammer. After about ten long minutes of staring at foam, I let out a groan of frustration. It looks like my other trick of staring at coffee until I get into a self-induced meditative state, for some reason unknown to mankind (or maybe just me), isn't calming me down in the least. Ack! NO! I should be as cool as a clam by now! (How cool clams are I have no idea, but in this case they are very cool.) I frantically sip at the hot coffee in a poorly executed attempt to quench my rising panic attack but unfortunately the effort goes in vain and all I manage to quench is all feeling in my tongue.

OH GOD!! Why won't anything work?! This is so not good, not good, not good, not GOOD!! I can't take this kind of pressure! If this goes on any longer I'm going to wind up doing the Irish jig with whatever sanity I have left and I can't fucking dance!! GAH!! Why does this have to happen now?! Why God, why?!

Because dumb ass, there are GNOMES at your fucking school, the wiser voice in my head booms. They're searching for you and your underpants as well as everyone else's as you speak, you repulsive, twitchy idiot!

NO….no it can't be! Cartman's just…just screwing around with me! That's all! I mean, why wouldn't he? He knows that gnomes exist because only him, Kyle and Stan know about it! (Maybe Kenny too since I can't remember if he was alive or dead when that happened) Those cool as Hell bastards always just play dumb to make me look even crazier by saying, when the subject comes up, 'Gnomes? What gnomes could you possibly be talking about Tweek?'!! Of course Cartman would pull something like this to scare the crap out of me!! I bet they're all still laughing about it in class too!!

Tweek, look around you! You SAW them in the vents right? They left signs Tweek, signs! Remember the plaid?! That's like a direct connection to kilts! Kilts are MAN SKIRTS TWEEK!! MAN SKIRTS!! And did you see the label?! It was from FRUIT OF THE LOOM!! It's only, like, THE ultimate sign for the apocalypse!! Don't you get it?! They could be watching you right now!

God damnit, I've got a point! The next thing I know, I'm scouring every possible crook and cranny for red hats and graying beards. Where would a gnome hide? I already know they're in the air vents; are there any in here? OH SHIT THERE ARE! Oh god, oh god, oh god!! I accidentally clench my coffee cup a little too hard, and scald my hand when a little bit of liquid heaven spills over the top. You know, hot coffee is great to drink but I'd prefer it in my mouth rather than on my body. That's what coffee beans are good for.

Where else? I know there's that fat receptionist with the ridiculously low cut shirt sitting in the main desk in the front lobby! Would they hide in her…? No, no look at those things! They're more terrifying than infomercial salesmen…dear lord is that…oh god, it is! No way, no way! Even underpants gnomes have some decency!

I sigh and settle back in my uncomfortable plastic seat. Oh dude, this can't be good for my nerves. I've heard that overstressing can take years off your life! My entire LIFE is about overstressing!! I'm probably not even gonna make it to my 20's at this rate!! I'll never get out of this god forsaken town! I'll get stuck in community college or god, work at a department store and make minimum wage! I'll die a lonely virgin! Buy scented candles in my spare time! I'll--!

No. No, I won't die a lonely virgin and I WON'T buy scented candles in my spare time. .I wouldn't let myself slip up like that. I just…need to calm down….or at least try to. Wait…now how the hell do I do that?!

Maybe I should just try to think positively. Yeah…just…think positively. I probably look like I have my finger stuck in a power outlet but I can't help it. THERE ARE GNOMES TRACKING ME!! And now, they're targeting everyone else too! On one hand, this is pretty awesome because then everyone will know I'm not (completely) crazy, but on the other hand, then they'll have to suffer too! Oh Christ, this isn't thinking positively is it?

Maybe if I just close my eyes it'll work. But then I realize I can't just close my eyes, because then that could give the gnomes a chance to steal my underwear if they haven't already (I refuse to check). I give up. Okay just…just think about something else….think about something else…

I wonder what Craig's thinking right now.

I didn't notice it before, but the silence between us is incredibly awkward, me nursing the paper cup filled with the school's instant coffee like it's a bomb ready to explode and shower me with scalding hot coffee (with my luck it probably is and will), and Craig glaring at his beat up sneakers and rubbing his bright red knuckles. I think he's angry at me, but I wouldn't blame him for it. I make myself angry all the time.

"Sorry Craig," I murmur more to the cup than Craig himself and out of the corner of my eye I see him tilt his head to me and sigh warily.

"Shut up Tweek," he mutters, and I nod glumly. So much for a perfect day. Now it's ruined! My special birthday coffee is dripping from a dirty mop, I have to listen to Mr. Mackey's verbal abuse of 'm-kays', and now my best friend is mad at me. Looks like when you're the unluckiest person in the world, you aren't allowed to hope for things either.

"Tweek will you quit talking to yourself? And relax I'm not pissed at you okay?" GAH!! Craig's voice is sudden and way too loud and my nerves are so strung out that the second they're uttered I jump in my seat and spill my fiery lava hot coffee all over me.

"OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW!" I fly to my feet in record timing. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!! My thighs and my crotch are on fire! What was that thing Big Gay Al said about being on fire? Oh yeah! He said that when you're on fire you can stop, drop, and roll to put it out but if you're in a position where you can't, you can compromise and try to put it out by repeatedly slapping at it. (It's supposed to help snuff out a fire or something) He also said something about using your feet rather than your hands but that's physically impossible in my case so instead I just slap at my burning lap like a madman.

"God dammit Tweek, are you okay?! And for the love of God, quit slapping yourself!" Craig's immediately by my side and is trying to stop my flailing hands in an attempt to calm me down but my hands don't stop and I end up smacking him right in the nose. OH GOD NOW I'M DEAD!

"Awwwww shit my nose! Tweek you fucking MORON!" His hands fly to his injured nose and he stumbles backwards knocking into the chairs. My natural instincts kick in and I quit slapping at myself just in time to dive for him so fast I barely see the glimpse of horror that flickers across his face.

"Oh shit! I'm -GAH- s-sorry Craig! Is your n-nose okay? It isn't b-bleeding is it?? Oh man, I didn't b-break it again did I?! SHIT I DID, DIDN'T I?! Argh, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!" I'm such an idiot! I could've shoved his nose right into his brain and then he'd die or slip into a coma and then he'd really hate me! Why can't I ever do anything right? Why do I always have to ruin everything?! I reach for him, ready to drag him all the way to the emergency room in Hells Pass Hospital, but he shoos me away with one of his hands, keeping the other firmly planted on his nose.

"TWEEK," Craig yells and I shut up immediately. I'm so fucking dead. "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!" He's staring at me exasperatedly and his face is flushed from yelling. Oh no…this isn't fair! Why? Why does this stuff always have to happen to me? Why can't things just go my way for once? Why?

"S-sorry…" This is hopeless. I'm hopeless. If I wasn't such a chicken and terrified of grave robbers, zombies, maggots and death in general, I'd say I should just die. It'd definitely make everyone's lives a lot easier. But since I'm too afraid to die, well, I guess they'll just have to forgive me.

Craig looks me over some before saying, "Here, lemme get you some napkins or something. You got coffee all over yourself, you klutz." He pulls out some tissues from his pockets and hands me them, sighing again as I dab at the giant wet spot right between my legs. It stings a little, but it could have been worse, and believe me, I have experienced 'worse.' The bigger problem now is that it looks like I peed my pants again, and I doubt anyone's up for sniffing my crotch to verify whether it's coffee or the latter. Well, maybe Butters or Pip but…

Oh fuck it. I let out a quivery sigh and bury my face in my thin hands. I take it back--this sucks. Craig nudges me and asks me if I'm okay again but I don't move my hands. Only when he smacks me upside the head do I let my palms slide down my face and glare blearily at him, my bottom eyelid twitching wildly for dramatic effect.

Craig glares back and gives me a half hearted finger before returning his gaze back to his sneakers. Why does he keep staring at his sneakers for God's sake? What's so interesting about them? Why not stare at the motivational poster with a bunch of quotes from Arnold Schwarzenegger and Mel Gibson or at that leaky spot on the ceiling that keeps dripping water on the other side of the hall? Instead he keeps staring at his stupid shoes with stupid Red Racer on them until stupid Mr. Mackey open's his stupid door and asks me to step into his stupid office. Gah this is so STUPID!

No, wrongly said; I'm just stupid.

"N-now Tweek, I understand you were screaming in the cafeteria again, and I j-just wanted to tell you that that was bad, m'kay? I mean, r-really, really bad, m'kay?" Mr. Mackey address to me as I sit down in the blue seat in front of his desk. This school must really like blue because most of the chairs here are blue. Craig likes blue a lot too. Blue eyes, blue clothes, blue bedroom and yet his favorite thing in the world is Red Racer. Oh, the irony.

"Y-yes Mr. Mackey I -GAH- know," I answer, bowing my head in shame. My fingers nestle in my hair and start pulling and tugging the ragged blond spikes out of habit. Yet another one of my nervous habits. Let's just get this over with. I want to get back to class so I can go home and hide under my covers. I'd hide under my bed but if there are gnomes in the air vents, god knows what's under there.

"Good, now you wanna tell me why you were a-screamin'?" He clasps and unclasps his hands together and looks over his glasses down at me.

"-ngh- Eric t-told me something that -GAH- scared me," I answer shakily. Mr. Mackey m'kays again and asks me if I wanted to tell him what he told me. I shake my head furiously. He wouldn't believe me even if I did manage to tell him without scaring myself shitless.

"O-okay Tweek. Now d-don't get into anymore trouble m'kay?" He tells me, picking up a pink Post-it note and scribbling something down on it, probably for Mr. Garrison.

"Alright Mr. M-Mackey"

"Will you go on and send Craig in for me m'kay?"

I walk out the door and stop only to tell Craig that Mr. Mackey wants to talk to him. He fixes me with a funny look but right now I'm focused on getting back to class without getting attacked by freakin' gnomes because now that I'm not next to Craig (he gets angry at me when I start spazzing) gnomes are all I can think about.

I can't believe it. Oh god, I can't believe it. Why am I right? And now of all times? The one time where I wish I was wrong, but I'm not. 'God you must have one seriously messed up sense of humor,' is something I would consider muttering if I wasn't an avid believer in the possibility of being randomly struck by lightning or sucker punched by a big, fat, angry Christian vigilante wearing a 'Jesus Rox My Sox' shirt for bad mouthing God himself.

As I draw nearer and nearer towards the classroom door, a small flicker of apprehension starts to grow and go all psycho Mecha-Streisand-destroys-Tokyo in the pit of my stomach until I feel like I'm gonna puke.

Aww dude, I think I'm gonna be sick! I'm right in front of the door but I don't want to go in. I'll probably throw up on myself and everyone will laugh at me again! But I don't have a choice. My stupid backpack is in there! I don't want to risk a lecture from the teacher either. He'll turn me into a turducken or a pot roast and serve me on a bed of mashed potatoes with steamed broccoli and serve me to a bunch of politicians or worse; fitness instructors! Dear god, I can't do that, I don't have the stamina to handle something of that caliber!

My fingers lock around the doorknob so tightly they go numb and my knees are knocking together like some wussy pussy and my heart's th-thump-ing loudly in my chest. Gah! I can't do this! There's no way I can go in there! Not with those fucking gnomes hiding in the air vents, watching my every move, spying on me… no, they aren't just spying anymore are they? Those pint-sized bearded psychopaths are following me, and now, now I've doomed the rest of the school! Jesus! I mean I always knew it was just a certain amount of time until the gnomes began targeting other victims than me. But to do it in public…and in an elementary school at that? That's… that's just sick!

I can hear Mr. Garrison yelling for 'all you little assholes to shut up and pay attention' and a symphony of aggravated groans emit from the class through the metal door. I'll just have to trick myself won't I? Okay I'll just count to ten.

One…two….TEN!

My fingers sharply twist the door knob and I force the door open a little too sharply. Everyone's heads immediately turn towards me and they immediately start whispering to each other. I try my best to ignore them as I walk in but fail miserably, because even Mr. Garrison is whispering 'mmhms' and 'Mr. Hat!'s to that freaky hand puppet. I hastily throw the note from Mr. Mackey at him, but because I'm Tweek Tweak and not Stan or Kyle or fuck, Butters, instead of landing on his desk like I had planned, it decides to halt mid air and gently float down and land gracefully at my feet.

GOD DAMMIT!!

I scowl at the stupid hot pink note and wait patiently for it to sprout wings and flap its way over to Mr. Garrison, and when it doesn't, I just look like an idiot standing in the middle of the classroom, glaring at a sticky note.

Sometimes I really, really, really hate my life.

I can hear the snickers coming from the class as I finally lean down to pick it up. I can already feel that embarrassed-as-Hell flush burning bright red on my cheeks as I shove it in Mr. Garrison's pervy hands and scamper towards my desk. The second my ass is in that seat, the better.

Mr. Garrison scans the note quickly over his wire rimmed glasses and turns this weird shade of puce before dismissing my tardiness and turning back to the board. Of course, he's still breaking out into incredibly eerie giggles at random moments. Other than that, class goes by pretty quickly. Craig comes in 7 minutes after my embarrassing entry and we don't talk though I do catch him staring at me oddly a few times. But the rest of the day goes by gnome free. Thank god!!

As the last bell rings, I gather my things and shove them hastily into my backpack ready to run for my life, but not before I feel a tap on my shoulder. I swear to god, if it's a gnome I'm going to scream. I really will. I frantically wiggle my arms through the straps and whip around expecting to see one of those vile creatures, and I do, except this one's more than two feet tall and a total fatass.

"Cartman?"

"Tweek, Tweek! We need to talk!" He grabs my shoulders and shakes me, his eyes wide and chock full of grade-A fear.

SHIT!

Oh come on God, can't I have just one break? Just one itsy bitsy, teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini break? (wait a minute…) I just wanna go home, drink some coffee and take some Excedrin. It feels like my brain is being fed through a paper shredder! Is that even normal? Oh god, what if it's brain cancer?! NO! I CAN'T GET THAT! MY FRAGILE MIND CAN'T TAKE IT!…Oh god, look at me. I really am a spazz basket. I'm such an idiot! I just need to chill the fuck out, like Craig always says. I just need to focus. That's easy enough right? I hope so. With a jittery shudder, I force my mind back onto the scene in front of me.

Cartman lets go of me and starts pacing up and down the aisle and wringing his pudgy hands together like he's going into cardiac arrest. He's even talking to himself again, and he keeps looking up at me, then back down at the floor, then up at the air vents, and then back at me again like he's trying to piece something together. I have no idea what he could be trying to piece together but it can't be good. It's the fatass for Christ's sake! When is anything involving him ever good?

If you were wondering the reasoning for my loving pet names for said fatass, I can tell you that I do it because I don't like Cartman. At. All. He's an insensitive, self involved douche bag with a fucked up sense of humor, and not only that, he's fucking psycho! Like this one time, he got pissed off at this one guy and he totally killed his parents and turned them into CHILI! And then he FED it to the kid! The fatass scares the SHIT out of me, seriously! That's another reason why I want out of here. Alone in an empty classroom with Cartman? Not over my dead body. Oh crap, maybe that was a wrong choice of wording...

"Tweek… Tweek, I need you to listen to me now. I...I need your help." Cartman suddenly speaks up and looks at me with this look in his eyes. Shit, I know that look! It's the look, the look he always gets when he's scheming something, that distant and conniving glint sharp in his dodgy brown eyes. I don't trust him at all and I have good reason for it: if a human being were to know anything, anything at all, they would know that a scheming Cartman is the definition of total devastation. Jesus, what could he possibly want with me? And what's with this help thing? Is he crazy? I'm the farthest thing from helpful!

"W-what?! What for?!"

"Because Tweek! Because! Just...listen for a second damn it! I….I know who it was that took my…underpants away from me."

"W-who?" Oh god I don't like where this is going, not one bit. Please don't say what I think you're gonna say! I don't wanna be right! I can't be right! I'm never right! Please, please, please let me be wrong! I don't care if I know I'm right; just let me go on my merry way neck deep in denial!

"Tweek… Tweek, it was those damn gnomes! I…I know it!" He has his back towards me but I can practically see the look of total shock on his face.

Oh...my...god.

"WHAT?! G-G-G-G-GNOMES?? AS IN 'UNDERPANTS GNOMES?!'" No way, no way! He can't be serious! He's just… screwing with my head! I CAN'T BE RIGHT! I'm always wrong right?! RIGHT?! Oh god I think I'm gonna EXPLODE!!

"The very same. Tweek I… I need your help." His eyes are wide open and he's shaking his head back and forth almost like he's in denial, but that doesn't matter. Why? Because that means I REALLY AM FUCKING RIGHT!! THERE ARE GNOMES AT THIS SCHOOL!! Oh my….oh my god….w-what do I do? What do I do?! I gotta get the Hell out of here! It's not safe! I...I gotta get home! My parents...they aren't safe!

"W-What?! Why me?!" I screech and try to dodge around him. I almost make it to the door but he quickly cuts in front of me spreading his big, blubbery arms out to block the door way. He looks like a bloated version of Jesus ready to purge me of my sins with his 'Jews aren't really people' spew.

"Because Tweek, because. You know more about these… these things than I do. I never thought I'd say it and I still don't, but Tweek… I need you." Cartman says and plants his hands on each of my skinny shoulders for dramatic effect. Oh god, he's touching me!

"Need him for what?" A familiar voice cuts in from behind us. Cartman spins around in slow-mo due to his excess extra baggage. I can see that blue hat with the yellow poof ball over Eric's mountain of a shoulder and relief soaks through me faster than Berry Blue Kool-Aid and a stack of vintage porn.

Thank god! It's Craig! Surely Craig will save me! Thank you God! Thank you!

"Go away Craig. This doesn't concern you," Eric says in a clipped voice and waves him off… like Craig will actually listen and do as he says.

"Whatever fatass." As expected, Craig flips him off with a firm glare and turns to me, his expression softening to an amused smirk. "Hey Tweek, you said the party was at eight right?" He's talking about my birthday party tonight. It's a sleepover too since it's a Friday. I nod my head in total horror and he says "Okay, thanks dude. I'll be going now. Cartman, do me a favor and don't rape him. I mean I know you need him oh so desperately but please, do think of the after math of a post violated Tweek. That would be catastrophic and I'd have to kick your tubby ass for doing it. See ya Tweek!" Craig gives us a little wink, and then leaves like nothing happened.

Typical Craig. I can feel my jaw hanging open already. But come on, rape?! Surely Cartman wouldn't… well he does always want Kyle to suck his balls… but that couldn't mean he'd…. oh my god… OH MY GOD! I think I just threw up a little bit...

Cartman is sputtering and screaming, :AY GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKIN' HIPPIE!", all the while blushing in relentless fury at the implied innuendo of our situation. Oh God. I really think I threw up.

It's funny that I could actually forget that Craig is an insensitive douche bag too. Of course he wouldn't want to help me. He hates me! He'd probably want me to get raped by the fatass. How exactly did I forget that about Craig again? Oh yeah, I'M FUCKING DESPERATE!

"Just you wait Craig, just you fuckin wait! I'll get you back! I swear it Craig! I swear it on the stars!" Cartman grumbles to himself, glowering at the open doorway like it just stole his syrupy stack of fried joy that is a flapjack right from under his piggy nose. And oh what contempt a fatass such as Eric T. Cartman has for a pancake snatcher. I'd send my condolences to the unoffending doorway but the fact is that that cocksucker-dickshit-fatass-son-of-a-bitch completely forgot about me! I can't believe this! I gotta get home dammit and he's totally wasting my precious time before the gnomes start crawling out from the darkness like the roaches they are!

"Cartman?" I question from a safe distance, mainly because I don't want him to wring my neck for stealing his imaginary pancakes. If I'm gonna be stuck here with him, I've gotta make this quick. I'm starting to see things again and I am NOT jumping out the window like last time. That hurt really bad and I don't feel like going to the hospital again. That old man wouldn't shut up about his doodle not working anymore for weeks I tell you! Weeks!

Cartman looks up at me confused and a little pissed that I'm talking to him. I almost regret saying anything when he finally snaps out of it and says, "Huh? Oh yeah, right! C'mon twitchy, we're going to mah house. We have many things to talk about… many, many things."

Wait, WHAT?! I said my house not his!! You know what? Fine. Screw the stray bolts of electrified death and big fat angry Christians I'm gonna say it: God you must either really hate me or you have one messed up sense of humor. Cartman snatches me by the wrist and drags me through the doorway and down the hallway like I'm a giant sack of aborted fetuses. Dude this is bad! I can't do anything and no matter how much I don't want to go with him, and god how I don't want to, I have to! Just look at him! He's MASSIVE! He could snap me in half with one hand tied behind his back! He could probably do it without any hands at all! All he'd have to do is sit his huge tanker of an ass on me and I'd be as good as gone! Damn it, I should have just kept my stupid mouth shut.

See? I told you! Nothing good ever comes from me speaking up! Nothing! I ruin everything, for me and everyone else! I wish I was born without a mouth.

Seeing as I obviously can't retaliate and tell him to shove it where the sun don't shine, what do I do? I'll tell you what I do: I choose the easy (and more painful in my case) way out. In other words, I shut up, swallow my pride and follow the lard ass.

Sometimes, I really think that God is out to get me. With my luck, he is.

To Be Continued...

End Note:

Next update should be...well, soon. I already have the next chapter written mainly because this chapter was originally WAY too long and I had to split it in half. So yeah, I'll prolly update in a week I guess. Again what DO you think? Good? Bad? Terrible? Or possibly the most amazingly awesome thing you've ever read or perhaps ridiculously epic and an absolute refreshment to the mind's pallette? Haha, whatever just throw me a review or anything for that matter. I love readers but reviewers I respect. Especially when they're so speechless by the sheer greatness of my work and still find ways to put it into words. Jk, Jk, but seriously, REVIEW! Or else...I won't update as fast...And we wouldn't want that would we, hm?

-uncmeister