That morning, Butters woke up five minutes later than usual with a massive headache. Heavy eyes, stuffy nose, and a mouth dry as wood, with a disgusting stale cocoa aftertaste. He couldn't remember what had happened last night, because his mind and memory was a fuzzy mess. After stretching out, he felt something plastic beside his pillow, and grabbed it to see what it was. Horrified, he collected all the trash wrappers and threw them into a trashcan, covering it with more trash to make sure his militant parents would not discover the candy wrappers.

Butters had no recollection of consuming that entire bag of chocolate marshmallow candies the night prior. He felt hung over. Confused, he pushed the thought into the back of his head, and went into the bathroom before his parents yelled at him. The bathroom mirror hit him with an awful sight. There were large bags under his eyes like that of a heroin addict, and what almost looked like a pimple on his left cheek. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was indeed a pimple. He'd never had a pimple before in his life. At nine years old, he was already getting his first pimple. What was the world coming to?

He frantically searched the bathroom cabinet and reached for his mother's makeup. If his parents saw him with sunken eyes and a...zit on his face, he'd be in dead trouble.

Mrs. Stotch had been unusually nice that morning, and allowed Butters to have pancakes for breakfast. But he couldn't seem to get enough syrup on them, drowning them in the sweet sugar and corn syrup that tasted so so good. As soon as the sugar entered his system, he felt the hangover from earlier magically go away.

Linda Stotch watched with concern as her son licked every last bit of syrup from the plate like crazy. Something about him today seemed..different. No, it wasn't just his behavior. "Butters, what is that on your face?" she questioned.

In a panic, Butters hurriedly covered his hand over the pimple to hide it. "W-what do you mean, Mom?"

Linda raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but then went back to reading her morning newspaper. "Ah, nevermind."

That day at school, Butters felt that everyone was staring at him. Especially at the large bump on his cheek. It seemed like all the girls would giggle behind his back, and the boys would laugh in his direction whenever he looked away. He felt like all eyes were on him, wondering how such a hideous creature could've come into existence - an ugly pizza face! The anxiety was building up, giving him a headache again.

When math class came, he couldn't concentrate. Math had always been Butters' best subject, but today the numbers and plus signs just looked like foreign characters. If only he had something sweet to clear his mind, he knew he'd be able to focus better and concentrate. His brain was telling him to eat more candy. No matter what it took, he had to get that euphoric feeling back.

After running home that day from school, Butters stormed upstairs and into his room to search for his secret stash of money. It was the same money his grandparents had given him for his birthday, the stash he'd always kept hidden in a blue sock inside his drawer in case of an emergency. Right now certainly felt like an emergency.

He rummaged through the drawer before finding the twenty dollar bill, then shoved the bill inside his shoe. He'd have to get past his father before he could leave, but it was early enough in the day that he would have just enough time for his plan.

When his dad asked where he was going, he fibbed and simply replied, "Outside to play!"

Butters felt awful lying to his parents like that, but he knew he couldn't hold out any longer. He needed candy, and he needed it now. In a rush of pure adrenaline, he ran down the street and didn't, no, wouldn't stop until he reached the nearest convenience store in town; never having felt so happy before than when he finally reached it.

Looking through the window, he could see the clear glass case full of candy bars and chocolate. The sight alone made Butters downright hungry. He went inside and walked up to the cashier, greeting him with a quiet "Hello."

The cashier hummed a song, looking straight ahead and not noticing - or hearing - the small customer standing in front of him. Butters eyeballed the candy display before speaking up again. "I-I'll take five musketeer bars, two bags of skittles, three starbursts, and four peppermint patties."

The cashier jumped, looking around to find the source of the voice, but nobody seemed to be around. The store was totally empty. "Who was that?" he called out.

Butters cleared his throat. "Down here, sir." The cashier looked down over the glass counter and saw the small boy, then sighed. "Oh. Heh. Sorry, but we can't sell candy to minors. You'll need an adult with you to buy that."

Butters' eyes widened. "What? Since when?"

"Since the mayor passed a new law to protect young kids from eating too much candy before their dinners," the cashier explained, matter-of-factly.

Butters' heart stopped for a moment, before he quickly thought up a genius plan. "Please sir, it's f-for my uh, Grandma. I wanted to get some some candy for her, because she's real sick and ain't feeling well."

The man rolled his eyes. "Like I haven't heard that story a million times. Look kid, I'm not going to break the law just for some juvenile junkie to get their sugar thrills. Either you have an adult with you, or you can't have candy."

"Oh..." Butters sulked. "Alright, then.." He sighed and turned to walk away, leaving the store with tears brimming the edge of his eyes. Today had been a terrible day; first a pimple, and now this. Being a ten year old was so extremely complicated.

But whenever he had sugar, Butters felt all of those problems fade away. He no longer thought about Sally, or when his parents were going to ground him next, or even how long it would be until recess. It was just pure happiness. He would do anything to feel that feeling once again.

That's when he remembered Cartman. If he was the one who sold him candy in the first place, maybe he'd be able to get more from him. He knew that Eric's mom always bought whatever junk foods Cartman asked for, so perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to coax some M&M's out of him.

Feeling hopeful and excited, Butters tucked his hands into his jacket and headed for Cartman's house.

Cartman opened the door. He was about to dismiss Stan and Kyle and tell them to leave him alone about stealing their bikes, because he totally didn't have their bikes stowed away in his garage or anything, but instead he saw Butters. His little friend stood in front of the doorway, nervous and jittery, wringing his hands together. "Perfect timing," Cartman thought.

"Well hello there Butters!" he greeted in a fake and cheerful voice. Butters snapped out of his trance and smiled. "H-hey there, Eric! Look, I-"

"Don't worry about explaining - I know exactly why you're here." Cartman cut him off.

Butters raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yes - and if you'll just follow me to my room, I'll be able to help you," he said, signalling for Butters to follow. Butters stepped inside. He saw Clyde coming down the stairs with a plastic bag. Clyde looked extremely happy, just like a kid on Christmas.

"Oh, hi Clyde," Butters greeted. Clyde snapped out of his happy trance after noticing Butters, frantically trying to hide the bag under his shirt.

Cartman put his hand up to stop him. "Clyde, it's okay, Butters isn't going to rat on anyone. He's not a little snitch. Right, Butters?"

"Rat about wha-" Cartman punched Butters in the arm, and Butters corrected his response. "Uh, y-yeah..I won't rat."

Clyde sighed, looking suddenly relieved. "Oh thank God, I've been waiting to eat these all day." He took the bag from his sweater and pulled out a twinkie, then stuffed it into his mouth like a hungry wolf. "That looks delicious," Butters thought. He watched as Clyde walked off, munching on his twinkie cake. "Thanks again, Cartman," the chubby boy called before leaving the house.

Butters bit his lip nervously. "So..y-you're selling junk foods to other kids?" he asked.

Cartman shrugged. "I'm just helping out a few people out during a time of need," he replied.

"But isn't that..illegal? You could get in a lot of trouble doing that," Butters questioned.

"Don't worry pal, it's not like I'm making much of a profit off of this," Cartman lied. "Now, what kind of stuff were you interested in? I'm guessing just something to take the edge off? Maybe something a little harder than last time?"

Butters shrugged, feeling criminally corrupt. "I guess so."

Cartman smiled at him evilly. "Follow me."