Disclaimer: I do not own South Park; it is the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker.


For the last hour and a half, Stan had been staring up at his ceiling in silence. He had been very quiet since his outburst at Garrison. Really, everything had gone expected, after that. The Principal had called his mother, she had been furious at him for swearing in class, and now he was promptly grounded to his room for the night. His phone, his computer cord, and his gaming system had been taken away by his mother, so he could "think about what he'd done."

Stan was back in the rut.

Turning over, he stared at his dresser. At the bottom drawer, to be precise. Behind it would be a bottle of vodka, stolen promptly from Cartman's kitchen. Lianne Cartman had never noticed it was missing. Neither of his parents knew it was there. That drawer was pretty much off limits to them, since the time when he was eleven and his mother had discovered a few playboy magazines hidden there. Not that Stan had ever used them once. After all, why would he want to when he had the internet for… those situations. No, he had planted them there on purpose in the intent of his mother finding them. Because he knew what would happen when she did. He got "the talk" from his father, a bit of scolding from his mother, and a drawer that neither of his parents ever looked in. Which was exactly what he needed. A place to hide his alcohol without fear of being caught.

A quick glance at his door showed that it was locked. Heaving himself off of his bed, the boy went over to the drawer and pulled it open. Picking up the bottle, he frowned at it. There wasn't much left. He'd have to get a new one soon. Maybe Jack Daniels this time. Stan had been curious for a while now on how that stuff tasted. Not that he cared about the taste. It could be like drinking straight up piss for all he cared. As long as the brain numbing effects still worked.

Unscrewing the cap, he brought the neck to his lips and took a few swallows. There, that would take care of him for a while. Resealing the drink, he shoved it back in his drawer and shut it.

"Now what…" he muttered, looking about his room. Fortunately, he was saved from having to come up with a way to entertain himself when a knock sounded on his door.

"Stanley?" came the soft voice of his mother. "Can I come in?"

He froze for a moment, before running over to his desk. Popping open a case of mints he kept for just these types of occasions, Stan shoved some into his mouth to hide the stench of the alcohol, before running back to his door. Unlocking it quickly, he opened it a crack and asked, "What's up?"

Sharon's face took on a stern expression for a moment, and she said, "Stan, let me in so we can talk, please."

The boy hesitated for a moment, but eventually did as he was told. When his mother took a seat on his bed, Stan quickly followed suit. Staring down at his hands, he mumbled, "What did you want to talk about?"

She sighed and placed a hand on his back. "Stan, please be honest with me, why did you act up today in class? That isn't like you at all."

"I'm just sick of Mr. Garrison, mom. He's a terrible teacher. Today, do you know what we were learning about? Celebrity Smack down." Turning to stare at her with those wide blue eyes that were so much like his father's, he said, "I just wanna learn about normal things like other kids. Y'know, stuff that'll actually help me when I get to high school and college."

Frowning, Sharon replied, "I know, sweetie. But there just really isn't anything that can be done. After Miss Choksondik passed away, there really aren't very many people applying to be a teacher right now. So Mr. Garrison is all you've got." She then gave him a knowing look, "But there is something else bothering you too." When Stan opened his mouth to deny it, she added, "Don't lie to me Stanley. You're my son, and I know when something is wrong with you. Please just tell me the truth."

He grimaced and looked down at his hands. Stan loved his mother dearly, but sometimes she was just too clever. Unlike his father, who was an alcoholic idiot. After a very lengthy silence, he muttered, "I just feel as though I've been in a rut, mom. Everything is always the same. Every day is a repeat of the last, over and over and over. Nothing ever changes." Stan leaned back on his bed and shoved his arm over his eyes and he sighed. "And even when things do change a little bit, they just go back to the way they were before."

And that was the root of his problems. Ever since he was ten—hell, more like since he was five—it had been the same story again and again. It was always the same, and in some ways, Stan was terrified that it would always be the same.

Sharon was very quiet for a while. Finally, she whispered, "Is… is this about the separation your father and I had a couple years ago?" Her voice sounded pained, as though she hated to even think about, let alone bring up, that part of their lives.

Stan sighed. "No mom." Yes.

"Then what is it?" she asked, sounding truly concerned for him.

He sat up so he could look at her. Hearing her sound so caring and loving… it killed him to keep things from her. But he had to. "I'm just sick of feeling like I'm trapped. Football used to be a good way to distract me, but…" he trailed off. Last year during one of the football games, he'd had an asthma attack so bad that he'd had to be hospitalized for it. After that, no one would let him back on the team.

She gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry sweet heart, but you know why you can't play anymore."

Stan shrugged, "I know. And to be honest, I don't miss the sport that much. But I do miss the distraction." Especially since now his only real distraction from how shitty his life was, rested in the consumption of alcohol.

"Does Kyle know?"

The question completely caught him off guard, and he stared up at her in surprise.

Sharon smiled kindly, "I know you two tell each other pretty much everything, and he usually cheers you right up."

Shaking his head, he replied, "No, I haven't told Kyle. He wouldn't understand."

Now it was his mother's turn to be surprised. "Why not?"

And the dam that he'd been keeping locked away suddenly burst. "Because his life is perfect!" he blurted out. "He has a rich lawyer dad who loves him and spends time with him, a mom that would be willing to do anything for him. A sibling who actually likes him. He's a straight A student, he is involved in all sorts of extra-curricular activities, and everyone likes him. He's not a complete failure when it comes to dating girls. And he's not the one who is struggling with his place in life, because he likes how his life is turning out. He's going to get out of this shitty town and actually make something of himself, while I'll be stuck here till the day I die." At the end of it all, his face was flushed, and he was huffing madly. Anger coursed through his veins, and it was with trembling fingers that he reached into his coat pocket and took out his inhaler.

The woman waited calmly while he got his breathing under control, rubbing a hand against his back in a soothing matter.

Once he'd managed to breathe normally again, Stan spoke in a very, very quiet tone, "And… and I'm worried that if I tell him… he'll abandon me again, like he did two years ago." Stan blinked and looked away, trying to hide the fact that his eyes had suddenly gotten a bit glossy. "Mom, I don't wanna lose Kyle again. I care about him too much."

And there it was. The reason that he hardly ever confided in his best friend anymore. Stan did not want to feel that same horrible, hollow-stomached feeling that he'd had last time, when Kyle said they couldn't be friends anymore. Because he was terrified that if he did lose Kyle again… he wouldn't be able to keep going forward. And that rut that he was terrified of being stuck in would never come to pass, because he would end it.

No one knew that he felt this way. There were a lot of things that people didn't know about Stan. But he had long ago realized that he could not imagine any future without Kyle in his life.

He felt his mother's arms embrace him in a warm, comforting hug, and he returned the gesture. Sharon could see that her son was hurting, and hurting badly. When he finally pulled out of her grip, she smoothed her hand over his ebony locks, so very like his father's, and said, "Alright, I'm ungrounding you."

He blinked at her, "What?"

"You aren't grounded anymore," she repeated calmly. "But in lieu of your newfound freedom, I want you to go out and spend time with one of your friends. No sitting in your room all day surfing the internet."

Rather than argue, he smiled, stood up, and kissed her cheek. "Thanks mom." And before she could change her mind, Stan had pulled on his jacket and was out the door.


Still there? I hope this wasn't a boring read. I thought it was good. I really like the dynamic of mother-son between Sharon and Stan, and I wish the show explored it more. But I can see why they don't, since it's supposed to be a show for comedy, and heart-to-hearts between mother and son aren't exactly funny.