To the Count of Twenty

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chapter two

The following day was sunny and promising (if slightly dented by the below-freezing weather). Stan woke up from a good night's sleep with a jaw popping yawn, greeted by a bedroom full of warm sunshine. It was the perfect day for his date with Wendy that afternoon, and while his nerves were likely to make a fool of him again, he was confident that if anyone could help him, it was Kyle. Besides, when getting lucky with Wendy became a way to beat that fatass Cartman out of fifty bucks... the idea looked even more inviting.

"What do you look so happy about?" Mr. Marsh asked with an eyebrow raised over breakfast. "You get laid in your dream or something?"

"Randy!" cried Stan's mother, missing her mouth and sending her spoonful of cold cereal and milk all over the table.

Stan simply replied innocently: "Yup."

Then he headed off to the bus stop, Mr. Marsh cracking up behind his wife's back.

"Oh, look who it is, you guys," Cartman announced in a singsong voice as Stan appeared around the corner. Kyle looked judging by his face as though he had been – up until the very moment Stan arrived – arguing with Cartman. Not surprising, Stan thought to himself. Kenny was sitting on the edge of the curb deeply absorbed in some sort of magazine in his lap. None of the other boys seemed to find this odd, despite the fact that they had just smashed his brains out the previous day. But such was life in South Park.

"How's it, fag?" Stan greeted cheerfully, loving the expression on Cartman's face as he fought to suppress the urge to shout something profane at his friend. He managed to throw it off, though.

"Lovely day, isn't it? I think I'll utilize it by getting the hell away from you, Stanley...." Then he turned off to talk to Kenny, which proved to be a futile effort, because Kenny didn't so much as look up from his magazine as Cartman sat down beside him. Stan cocked his brows.

"What's up with Kenny?" he asked softly enough that Kenny couldn't hear. Kyle laughed, raising a gloved hand to his mouth to stifle the noise.

"I snuck some porno mags from my dad's dresser but made the mistake of showing them to Kenny and Cartman. Kenny's been flipping through that one for about ten minutes now...." Stan snickered, shifting his view sideways to catch a glimpse of the hilariously perverted, orange-hooded (of course) boy. He now realized why Kenny had positioned the magazine directly over his lap.

It was as the school bus finally pulled up that Cartman let out a loud swear. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT, KENNY?!"

"Hmm..." Kenny started, muffled as usual. "I think it's your mom, dude. Damn, she's hot." Cartman looked like he was about to explode – or shit himself, whichever came first.

"Oh, God DAMMIT!"

Stan and Kyle ran quickly onto the bus to avoid being seen laughing by Cartman, who might have initiated another incident like yesterday's lunchtime one, but luckily for Kenny was wanting of a metal lunch tray.

--

"... I want your reports on the judicial branch in by next Tuesday... that gives you the entire weekend. I have a list of resources on the board behind me...."

Cartman was drifting in and out of his Civics I class, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to jot down the websites on the blackboard, but it was impossible. As soon as he would muster up enough energy to hold his pencil upright, his eyelids would fall back down as if rigged with lead weights. Casting his bleary eyes around, he determined that he was totally screwed on this assignment; he knew hardly anyone in the class to call up for the sites that evening... except Wendy Testaburger.

But she wasn't likely to let him borrow her notes, no matter how much he groveled. Promising himself that he was only resting his eyes, his subconscious drifted to Wendy... then Stan... and his bet with Kyle. Fifty dollars out of that dumb jew's pocket... the thought put a smile on Cartman's face. And they were as good as his....

"Cartman!" came a nasal voice from behind him.

"Huh?" said Cartman groggily, snapping his head up as if electrocuted. The entire class had cleared out, except for Wendy, who was standing behind his desk and looking annoyed. "Oh," he commented upon seeing her. "Sup, ho?" She glared.

"Are you just going to lie there all lunch? The bell rang two minutes ago." So, she'd stayed back just to lecture him? Cartman let out a long exhale as he pushed himself up off his desk, suddenly more alert now that class had ended.

"Seriously, Wendy, you don't have to wait up for me. Just come by my house anytime, I'm up for a romp." Wendy was getting noticeably red, and her hands were clutched very tightly around her stack of books.

"I – I don't have time for this!" she cried out, exasperated. "Stan's waiting for me, I can't believe I bothered wasting my time just so you didn't stay asleep here for the next hour." And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed – still fuming – out of the classroom. Cartman just stood bemused in her wake.

She was one insane bitch, that was for sure. But, Cartman thought to himself, she'd have to be insane to like a chode like Stan. He cast his thoughts back to his bet with Kyle. While it was true that Stan was the most desperately pathetic "boy" in all South Park, Wendy did most definitely have a thing for him... and Kenny seemed to be holding up pretty well today.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he left for lunch with the thought that maybe he would have to take this bet into his own hands.

--

"Where're Kyle and Stan?" mumbled Kenny as he sat down across from Cartman at their nearly empty table. Cartman was looking highly annoyed, poking at his mashed potatoes without interest.

"I have no idea, I've been waiting for those goddamn assholes for ages...." Kenny frowned.

"So... I guess Kyle didn't leave behind any of those mags, huh?"

Cartman stared up at his friend with absolute disbelief for almost an entire minute before muttering, "Shut the hell up, Kenny."

--

"We are so gonna get busted, dude."

"Just keep your barfing to a minimum and we won't."

"How am I even supposed to puke? You're not letting me eat lunch."

"Yeah... there's a reason."

The two ninth grade boys were huddled up awkwardly inside one of the boys' bathroom stalls during their lunch hour. They were each taking up about half of the toilet seat, Stan's feet propped up on the handicap handrail and Kyle's squashed against the opposite wall. Kyle's backpack was hanging on the door's coat hanger so that there would be no sign they were skiving off lunch to read porn on school property.

"Okay," Kyle said, tongue between his teeth, flipping through the various magazine titles. "Maybe some innocent Playboy...." He pulled a magazine out of the stack and handed it to Stan, who looked apprehensive.

"I don't know, dude... this seems kinda sick...."

Kyle snorted. "Haven't you ever looked up porn before?" Stan went pink.

"Well, okay, yeah, but... I mean... well, not with another guy squashed up against me." Kyle started to laugh under his breath.

"So what? If I ever take you to a strip club you'll get excited and hump me?"

Stan rolled up the magazine and smacked his best friend over the head.

"Alright..." he thought out loud, more to himself than anyone else, opening up the magazine and flipping through the pages of silicon-breasted women. He was tempted to stop to read the jokes, just to annoy Kyle, but decided against it because his hormones were kicking in and he really wasn't that interested in them. "So... remind me... again... why we're doing this?"

"Because let's be honest; if you can't even sit through a frencher with Wendy without spewing chunks, chances are you're not gonna be able to –" but he stopped mid-sentence, a strange, closed expression on his face. Stan raised an eyebrow.

"Uh... Kyle?"

"Yeah?" he squeaked.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Kyle shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we should reconsider that idea of yours... you know, the one where we don't do this sitting next to each other...." Stan went green.

"Oh, Jesus, Kyle, sick!" he screamed, scrambling awkwardly off the toilet seat and unlocking the door. "Get out right now!" Kyle snickered, then let himself out to find another stall, magazine in hand. Stan was grateful now that Kyle hadn't let him eat anything, because as he locked his stall up and sat back down, Kyle making quiet but obscene noises a few doors down, his stomach turned over unpleasantly.

But it had nothing to do with the Playboy he'd dropped on the floor.

--

"You're such a dumbass," Kenny sniggered softly as Cartman leaned out of their two-person huddle. Cartman, uncharacteristically, didn't look at all offended. His grin was too broad.

"A dumbass who's gonna be fifty dollars richer when this whole ordeal is over."

"Forty," Kenny corrected him. "If what you just said about my 20% is true."

"Sure, sure," Cartman added in a dismissive tone, waving his hand. He'd neglected to mention the bit of the bet that involved his friend's death; he was expecting fifty dollars in full. "Just watch... and learn...."

Cartman slid off their bench and strolled too-casually over to the tree under which Wendy and a group of her girlfriends were eating their lunch. When she noticed the chubby boy in their vicinity, she looked up at him as though he were slightly mad. "Umm...?" she asked weakly, still staring up at him. A few of the other girls started giggling.

"Hey ho," he started conversationally, shooting a thumbs-up at Kenny behind his back. She glared at him.

"What the hell do you want, Cartman?" she spat out bitterly, looking annoyed now that she'd overcome her shock.

"It's about the debate meeting next week."

Wendy looked absolutely stunned, and the girls that had been giggling stopped abruptly, mouths agape. After a moment or two she shook herself out of her stupor and stood up, dropping the sandwich she'd been munching on unceremoniously to the ground. "What about the debate meeting?" she asked quietly when she'd put a few feet between them and her group of friends; she was the head of the debate team, but she didn't like to parade the fact. Cartman dropped his serious expression immediately and let out a laugh.

"Oh, nothing, I just thought it might get your attention." Wendy's jaw dropped, and her hands clenched, a telltale sign that she was seconds away from punching Cartman. "I actually need those references for the judicial report." Wendy sneered.

"Of course. It might have interrupted your catnap if you'd written them down yourself, huh?" Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Look, ho –" Wendy's face went completely red "– I was up late last night, and I really need those sites, or I'm gonna fail... this report is a huge part of our grade. Do you really want that on your conscience?" he asked with fawn eyes.

Wendy looked torn, but eventually retorted, "It's not my fault if you're a dumbass who can't stay awake in class."

"Well, I would ask Stan," he mused aloud, and he could tell he hit a nerve, because Wendy's bright face suddenly went ghostly pale. "He's got Mrs. Fredericks, too, but...." He stood on tiptoe as if to look for Stan somewhere behind Wendy. "He doesn't seem to be here."

Wendy finally snapped and aimed a hit at Cartman, but he dodged it, giving her a brazen grin. When she drew back, horrified at what she'd done, the giggles behind her started up again. Cartman turned to walk away from her, calling over his shoulder as he headed back towards his and Kenny's table, "Maybe I will show up at that debate meeting, ho!" Going back to red as quickly as she'd gone from it, Wendy waited until Cartman was out of earshot, then stormed over to her friends and dug her heel viciously into her discarded sandwich, steam practically pouring out her ears.

"Damn, Wendy..." Bebe whispered, staring wide-eyed at her fuming best friend. "Do you need to see the nurse?" But with a look from Wendy, she shut immediately up.

Back at their lunch table, Kenny was laughing so hard he might've had a heart attack. "Holy shit," he was panting. "What the hell was that?"

But Cartman, to his surprise, was still smiling. "Phase one of the 'snag-fifty-bucks-from-jew-boy' operation."

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "Dude, you totally destroyed any chance of Wendy digging you... ever."

"Never fear, my little friend," Cartman reassured him, popping a Cheesy Poof into his mouth. "I've got that insane chick exactly where I want her. Just wait." Kenny rolled his eyes, still laughing quietly.

"Whatever, Eric... whatever...."