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Dog Teeth

Chapter Two

"...because as long as he had them, he would use them to do bad things."

Fretting about what today would bring, I stood in front of my opened closet, blankly scanning the row of clothing as I tried to determine what would be appropriate. Casual clothes? Something more formal? Maybe it'd help if Craig would spare a second of his precious time to inform me of what we were doing at least, but all I'd gotten out of him was a guinea pig meme when I texted to ask what was in store for us. When I expressed discontentment, his response was a threat to send more.

I shifted my attention back to the clothing dilemma. I couldn't believe I was stressing out about what to wear because it wasn't like this was a date or anything.

Oh Jesus. What if it was? My fingers twitched as I fought the temptation to text Craig again just to make sure this was a normal outing. Between friends. Wait, no- fuck. Not even friends. Old acquaintances was more appropriate.

This is how it happened, how he was going to suck me into his life and make it so I could never leave again. Craig probably knew what he was doing. It started with the small things, like calling him a friend when he was some tall, brooding, and potentially dangerous former companion that I happened to run into.

That made my fingers twitch more sporadically, drumming against the soft cloth of my pajama bottoms, and I began to pace the expanse of my bedroom as I tried to sort out my Craig-plagued thoughts. I wondered if it was too late to cancel and hope he'd forget about the whole thing, because I didn't care if he talked to Token and Clyde and called me a pussy or fag or whatever. I just didn't think I wanted to go, and I'd had enough of this nervousness, waiting for fucking Craig to tell me what we were doing-

BZZ BZZ

I jumped at the sound of my own phone's vibration, alerting me to a new message. My heart leapt into my throat, and I paused to marvel at the possibility of a God hearing my plea for help and sending an angel to kick Craig Tucker in the ass to make him realize he couldn't play his little games with an anxiety-ridden teenager.

Snatching my phone from my bed, the screen illuminated to show the text wasn't from Craig, but it was from Kenny.

Kenny: heey tweek my man what r you up to

"You couldn't have chosen a worse time!" I panickedly yelled at some invisible Kenny that I hoped would be able to telepathically hear me. Nearly forgetting he couldn't actually hear me, I continued, "For the last hour I've done nothing but look into my closet like it's the entrance to Narnia and wait for a half-man, half-deer thing to come out and kidnap me just so I don't have to hang out with Craig today! NGH!" At the end, I was basically screaming but quieted down as I realized my mother might check in on me.

Getting myself under control, I took a few deep breaths and looked back at my phone. Kenny deserved a response even if I was a mess, because he was a good friend - unlike Craig and Clyde and Token. And Stan and Kyle and Cartman, too. He was on the perverted side and always had been, but I knew he wasn't serious about it when he'd playfully flirt with everyone. He rarely directed his comments at me anymore, aware they made me apprehensive and uncomfortable.

Out of all the people in South Park, Kenny was probably among my favorites. He and Butters were genuinely likeable and didn't have ulterior motives to be concerned about when we were together.

Tweek: Trying to find something to wear

I was going to leave it at that but a selfish part of me wanted Kenny to know of my struggle and why I was so on edge. Better yet, maybe he could offer some advice since he still chilled with Craig every now and then. I didn't think Token or Clyde minded him, but they didn't consider him the ideal "crowd" to mix with, meanwhile Craig didn't seem to care. Kenny was difficult to get rid of, plus Craig wasn't too picky about his friends as long as they didn't drag him into adventures involving world crises and celebrities every day. Having been in that position myself, I couldn't say I blamed him.

Tweek: Craig said he wanted to hang out today

Tweek: But i don't know what we're doing or where we going

What if Craig didn't have anything in mind and was using this as a lure to get me to come to his house, which was in reality not a house but a sex slave dungeon where he kept other stupid, unwitting souls that were enraptured by his predatory gaze and couldn't manage to say no when he asked them to hang out? Oh Jesus, that was definitely where I was going to end up by tonight.

By the time my overly-nervous thought path had come to an end, there was an unread message from Kenny waiting.

Kenny: dude what, why are you friends with craig again

The word "friends" caused me to freeze, albeit my eyes twitched wildly. I felt like I couldn't breathe, like my chest was getting smaller and constricting every ounce of oxygen that threatened to revive me from my panicked state. My fists clenched, I forced myself to begin taking as deep of breaths as I could manage, pathetic wheezing noises escaping as I did so, internally repeating: I'm not friends with Craig.

Calming down, I picked up my phone - almost throwing it to the floor of my bedroom in the process - and tried to type a message with my trembling fingers.

Tweek: We aare NOT friends

Tweek: He just asked me to hang out with him forr a while and that's it

Kenny must have been waiting by his phone, as the response was close to instant.

Kenny: that sounds like you're fucking going on a date

My thoughts from earlier came rushing back with a renewed sense of urgency, as I had written them off as nothing but my anxiety before. Now they were a realistic possibility with Kenny suggesting the same thing. Afraid I would begin panicking worse than before, I fumbled to open my nightstand drawer and pop open the bottle of pills. Small, white, chalky capsules fell into my palm. Because I was in such a rush, I didn't think about getting a drink of water prior to launching them into my mouth and swallowing.

I had been planning to take an extra dose or two of my medication anyway in an attempt to avoid having an attack in front of Craig or otherwise embarrassing myself. My psychiatrist wouldn't be pleased with the overdose, especially when I'd been good about not doing it for years, but this is the effect Craig had on me.

It wouldn't take effect right away, but in about thirty minutes I would begin to feel more relaxed about the whole situation. Stomach in knots, I retrieved my phone and drafted a quick message.

Tweek: Please don't say that

Kenny: sorry dude, just is weird to me yknow? i thought you were done with him

Tweek: Me too but then he asked if i wanted to hang out with him and i didn't know how to say no

Tweek: It's only for today

I knew it must have sounded like I was addicted to the drug named Craig. Just one time, I had told Kenny, knowing full well that I probably wouldn't be able to object if Craig wanted to meet up again. Obviously I hadn't been capable of rejecting him this time, so next wouldn't be any different.

Kenny: kay, whatever, have fun tweek 3 say hi to craig for me

That was the good thing about Kenny. Even if he tentatively disapproved of something, he was never an ass about it and wouldn't hold on to the little things. If hanging out with Craig totally sucked, he would be a listening ear to my endless ranting and a shoulder to cry on. He was a friend until the end, and I couldn't figure out why he stuck with Stan and those guys, considering Stan and Kyle were best friends - connected at the hip, pretty much - which left Kenny with Cartman.

Tweek: I will, thanks Kenny 3

The "I will" was a response to saying hi to Craig, not necessarily having fun since I didn't want to make an empty promise when I had a sinking feeling it would be.

With my phone in hand, I scrolled through my list of contacts until I found Butters - like Kenny, he was a wonderful friend and I had no doubts he would be here for me in my time of need.

Tweek: Butters please tell me you're around

After I'd sent it, I wondered if I sounded too desperate, as if it was something extremely important. What if Butters thought I was about to tell him I was dying? Although it was tempting to reply with a followup to make sure there was no confusion about the severity of the matter, I stopped myself when I determined this was right up there with dying. Hanging out with Craig was probably the equivalent of a horrible death.

After pacing around my room for several minutes as I prayed to whatever Gods were out there for a response from Butters, I gave up and figured he was busy with his own life. There was a good chance he'd gotten dragged into another scheme by Stan and his group, and I wished he'd be more careful since he could seriously get hurt. It didn't seem to matter with Kenny, who somehow died all the time and continued to live regardless of what happened, yet I didn't think Butters possessed the same cockroach-like physique.

Sifting through my closet, I still hoped I could disappear into Narnia and not have to deal with this. But until the centaur guy abducted me, I was stuck in this situation and had to identify what to wear.

A glance at my phone told me it was approaching two in the afternoon, meaning I'd been stressing over what was going to happen with Craig for the last three hours or so. I'd settled on wearing my usual attire instead of anything fancy or super casual: just jeans and a button shirt, and when it was time to leave, I'd throw on my scarf for good measure. Despite being spring break and mid-April, it was too cold outside to leave it at home with the wind whipping and snow on the ground.

About to set my phone down and resume browsing the Internet for ways to get out of a commitment, it vibrated with a new message.

Butters: ! oh geez what's wrong Tweek? Is everything okay?

I felt like I should be asking him the same, since it'd taken an hour or two to get a response, but I didn't. I was preoccupied with being glad he was around.

Tweek: Not really i guess, i'm going to hang out with craig later

Tweek: He asked me to and i couldn't say no

I remembered Kenny's inquiry and wanted to save us both the time; Butters would want to know why I was stuck in this mess, so I'd tell him before he had to waste energy on asking. I had a suspicion it was as mystifying to me as it was to him, too.

In about a minute, Butters had replied.

Butters: be careful :( /3 i'm here for you

Tweek: Thanks, i might need it

Butters: of course, you're one of my best friends and don't let craig bring you down!

Emotional support seemed to be Butters' forte. He was one of the sweetest people I knew, and I could count on him to actually be there when he said he would.

Butters: and don't overdo the medication in case you were thinking about it….

My churning stomach seemed to freeze, creating slabs of ice that sliced through me. Butters had been around - my support system - when I struggled with overdosing everyday. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I'd already taken more than what I should have - he was surprisingly fierce when he wanted to be. Unwilling to lie to him, I inwardly grappled about how I should respond, preferably not outright saying I had overdosed but also not being dishonest about it either.

Luckily, I didn't have to think very long because a text from Craig interrupted my internal debate.

Craig: meet me the diner asap

Fuck, this was a date, wasn't it? It better not be, but going out to eat at South Park's only diner was a date-like thing to do.

I glanced to my closet longingly: where was the Narnia guy when you needed him?

On the walk to the diner, I reminded myself that it was a one-time excursion, a glimpse into why I didn't want to be in Craig's life again. And for Craig, it'd probably serve the same purpose because I hadn't changed. I was as unstable and panicky as always, and it was as if we were from different worlds since he was calm and collected. Not only that, but I was largely ignored at school, and Craig was popular in the sense that everyone admired him. They didn't fawn over him (at least not to his face) or approach him likely because they were terrified of being eaten in a single gulp, but they distantly observed his actions with awe as if he was a god walking among us lowly students.

As I grew closer to my destination and the inevitable meeting with Craig, my eyes and fingers were twitching more sporadically than when I was at home and having a minor meltdown. Despite the twitching and little noises of distress, I was strangely at peace with myself and my surroundings, similar to the quiet before the storm.

I was in a trance, feeling detached from my body and mind, but I couldn't ignore the rising lump in my throat when I saw the familiar sign of the diner ominously looming in the distance. From here, the large glass windows permitted me to see that the lunch crowd seemed to have disappeared and left only a couple people remaining inside. I tore my eyes away, trying hard to avoid staring because I knew I would eventually lock eyes with Craig - then I couldn't run in the other direction if it came to that. I would be trapped more than I already was.

Heart racing, I shakily grabbed the door handle and stepped inside, met with the scent of fast food and grease, which added to my nauseousness. I bet Craig could smell beyond the French fry-stink and not-quite-real-meat burger slop to sense that a nervous, blonde coffee-addict had stepped into his threshold, and I waited for him to pounce on me, pinning his prey and dragging me into some dark corner never to be seen again.

Building enough courage to raise my eyes from the tiled floor and actually look around, it didn't take me long to find Craig behind the counter, helping none other than Stan and Kyle with their orders. Unsure of what else to do, I forced my legs forward, taking my place in line behind them, within earshot.

"...and put fries on the side of that." Stan turned to his best friend. "Do you want the same?"

Kyle shook his head, eyes glued to the menu. "Nah, too much fat content."

"Dude, you're like, thin as hell. You could use the fat."

He shrugged, "I'm not ending up like lardass, and I care about my health."

"Can we hurry this up." It didn't even sound like a question. It was a statement, and Craig didn't seem amused. "If you don't know what you're going to order, don't bring your gayness up here. It's clogging my soul with rainbows, and Tweek is the only one allowed to do that."

I let out a noise of surprise as I realized Craig must've seen me - how could he not have? I did linger in the doorway for quite a while… Or maybe my laser vision theory hadn't been so far off. Stan and Kyle both peered behind them and gave their own casual greetings, but I was too busy being focused on how everyone's gaze had settled on me. "Look, man- don't bring me into this!"

Stan brushed it off, "Craig's just a jackass." I know. I was more than aware and felt he hardly had the right to say so when he didn't spend his childhood being friends with Craig. Redirecting his attention to Kyle, he prompted, "What did you want to eat?"

"I'll have a salad."

Craig appeared bored out of his mind but relieved because it was over, as if he'd been listening to these two go back and forth for hours. "Eight dollars and fifty cents."

"I'll get it," Kyle offered simply, fishing in his pocket before producing a bill and giving it to Craig.

He handed back their change, saying, "When your number is called, that means your order is ready. Leave your gay at the table when you come to get it for the safety of our other guests, thanks."

"Like you should be talking," Stan scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Let's go find a place to sit, Kyle." They exited the line and probably went to a table, but I didn't make it a priority to watch them when it was my turn to confront Craig.

"Hey Tweek." Although it sounded as monotonous as when he'd been talking to Stan and Kyle, it seemed friendlier. The cold edge had disappeared from his tone, and it was kind of unnerving.

Inadvertently ignoring the greeting, I replied, "I can't believe you talk to customers like that." I knew if I did, my dad would be furious and go through a million analogies of why I should be polite.

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement sparking behind his stony eyes. "How could I have been so reckless. I forgot the last time you took my order, you were all smiles and sunshine." My cheeks flushed upon realizing he was right.

"That was different," I protested, recalling how Craig and his friends had been hanging out at that table for well over an hour. It'd been closing time, and they still hadn't left; I had the right to be a little grumpy with them. Maybe.

Craig waved a hand dismissively, moving on from the conversation, "Don't worry, I can find it in my heart to forgive you. But let's not stick around, my shift is over." He must have seen how puzzled I became and went on to elaborate, "I figured we could meet here and go back to my place to chill for a while."

My sex slave dungeon idea was looking pretty good right about now, much to my horror. "O-oh?" I squeaked, eyes wide as saucers.

"If that's okay?" Craig mumbled. "I don't really want to be stuck here for another few hours since I'm done working. Assholes like Stan and Kyle frequent this place, and I don't get paid enough to deal with their bullshit."

So much for meeting and staying on neutral territory with witnesses surrounding us. I didn't want to go to his house, who knew what he'd do with me from there if we were alone? I tugged at my shirt, eyes darting as I weighed how likely it was that I'd come back alive this evening. "Um.." I started, mouth dry and voice on the verge of cracking, "alright. We can -NGH!- do that." I cursed myself for being too big of a pansy to say no again, as that was what got me trapped in this mess to begin with.

Despite feeling guilty over the interaction with Butters, I determined I was glad I'd taken too many pills in preparation for this encounter. If I hadn't, I was pretty sure I would be on the ground in a fetal position and crying until spring break was over.

Craig was staring at me, skeptically. "Are you okay?" No, of course I'm not okay! I wanted to yell in frustration. Instead, I had to keep my fear bottled inside, barely suppressing radiator-like noises of terror. Upon receiving no response, he added, "I'll be right back."

I didn't have time to truly recollect myself because after he'd disappeared into what I assumed was the kitchen, Craig returned within a moment or two with a drink in hand. "Here," he offered, "you can have this. It might help you calm down, Tweekers." The use of my nickname was soothing, and I peered at him with gratefulness. Taking it with shaky hands, I examined the beverage and identified it as some sort of ice-cream drink, interest piqued. "It's coffee flavor, a new thing we're trying," Craig explained, catching my uncertainty.

I took a tentative sip, almost missing the straw with my trembling hands. It was cold and sweet, significantly more syrupy than a cup of coffee would've been. "It's good," I reported to Craig. There was a small, scared smile playing on my lips, and I was still worried about going to his house. But the combination of coffee-flavored ice cream drink and Craig's soothing voice had me relaxed enough to skip the complete breakdown.

Craig seemed satisfied with that answer, as if he had come up with the idea himself. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yeah," I replied, inhaling deeply and letting the air escape again. I drank another sip, reveling in the comfort of a familiar flavor and person in my life, even if the latter continued to frighten me. "I'm ready."