"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home & rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." - Lin Yutang


Followed constantly by the looming wrath of his mother, slowly Kyle made the drive over to South Park. The early morning cleared up to reveal a sunny day, something that did little to chase away the choppy wind. And yet the sky remained cheerful, a brilliant shade of yellow. Like a giant yolk, just sizzling until it popped and hissed.

His phone pinged, grating on his sleep-deprived nerves. Kyle huffed, sparing the seat across from him a fleeting look. Whoever it was, they'd just have to wait.

The roads were bad enough, traffic barely inching along. His mother was right, surprisingly. He should have left sooner. But he'd never admit that, at least not to her.

"Come on." he grumbled, leaning over to grab his travel mug. Liquid energy. Better known as coffee, was filled to the brim. He nosily blew on the steaming mug, before he took a mighty large gulp of the tar.

The cafe he frequented appeared rather busy, like always. And so, in his hurry, Kyle lowered his standards to a common coffeehouse. It was't generally bad, if you could stomach it.

He gave another shudder. It was certain that the coffee was coating his stomach in a layer of death, but man did it wake you up. Which made sense, as far as Kyle could tell, truckers solicited that shop like crows on a rotting carcass.

The inexpensive price and the busty waitresses, probably contributed highly to this.

"Are you kidding me!" Kyle groaned. He placed the mug back into its cup holder, hand burnt from the immense heat. Slender fingers drummed against the leather steering wheel, anxious to get out this jam.

The red metal from the van in front of him, clawed at his eyes as it reflected the sun's harsh rays. It didn't look like it'd be moving any sooner.

Great, he was going to be late again. His mum was going to be so pissed.


Kenny McCormick was so fucking excited, this reunion was going to be sweet!

Cartman hadn't showed up yet, so Kenny didn't find any issue with shooting back a couple of beers in his honour. This all happened at Skeeter's Bar and Cocktails to be exact.

Despite it being pretty fucking early in the morning, already there was a handful of patrons filling the bar.

"Hasn't changed at all." Kenny mumbled under his breath. He took another large gulp from his beer, a local invention. It perfectly captured the image of South Park, cheap and shitty. But man, did it ever get you drunk.

"Kenny?"

The blonde jolted to life, surprised by his name tainting the air. He was even more surprised to see a familiar face, one that wasn't greyed with cigarette yellowing teeth.

Stan Marsh.

"Stan!?" Kenny called out, scampering from his booth.

Eagerly the pair joined in a hug, tightly clinging to one another. At once old memories popped up, ones that Kenny long forgot.

"What are you doing here?" Stan asked, face genuinely happy as they stepped away from one another.

"Oh, just having a beer." the shorter man admitted, nodding towards his abandoned drink.

Stan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief, "It's not even 8 AM yet, dude."

Kenny lazily laughed, slinking back to his booth. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to know Stan followed, and seemed delighted to sit across from him.

"Well, it won't look as bad when I have company."

"What, you plan on cheating on me?" Stan asked jokingly, Kenny shared a quiet laugh with him, happy to fall into old habits.

"No," Kenny said after a moment, "Cartman is going to grace my presence."

Stan choked on his laughter, eyes widening as he stared at the blonde man.

"Eric Cartman?"

"Yep."

"Bu-man, I haven't thought of Cartman in years! He like, disappeared straight after high-school."

Kenny nodded, once again grabbing his beer. The sweating glass bottle greeted his clammy hand, mingling together until they dripped down onto the wooden table.

"What does he even do?" Stan pondered, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kenny merely shrugged in response, not entirely sure.

His companion frowned at the lack of information, before his shoulders dejectedly fell.

"I think he's in business?"

"Well that's not much of a surprise. Like what, real estate?"

Kenny laughed at that one, tossing his head back until his hair brushed against the booth's cushions. Stan flushed, slightly embarrassed. In order to defend himself, he loudly spoke out, "I mean, like scams or something! Let's be honest here, Cartman couldn't have changed that much."

"You got that right, Stan." Kenny hummed, offering Stan a smile before he took another large gulp of his beer.


"Bubby!" Sheila Broflovski called out, tears streaming down her face as she bounded down the porch.

She was always so emotional during these times, like he went off for war. Only it sort of was to her, instead of dodging bullets, her son fought for justice in the courtroom.

Her eldest child had left the nest, and was awfully alone in the city. Which wouldn't have happened if Kyle married a nice Jewish girl, which obviously wasn't going to happen. But that didn't stop her from persistently trying to be a matchmaker.

"Mum." Kyle passively greeted, climbing out his car. Immediately he was embraced in a bear-hug, slowly suffocating in the scent of lavendar, and ever faint kasha.

She smelt like home. He...he was home.

"I missed you, bubby!" his mother sobbed into his jacket, fingers tightening their hold until her talons dug into his clothed skin.

In practiced control, Kyle withheld a flinch. And lovingly patted on his mother's back, ignoring the sudden rise in emotions in him.

"I missed you too." he mumbled at last, pressing his head into his mother's mass of hair.

"Shelia, let the poor boy go." a voice called out from the background, evidently from the same porch his mother had just left.

Kyle smiled when his mother suddenly let go of him, but not because of his new-found freedom. "Hey, dad."

Tired from countless piles of paperwork, Gerald leaned his weight against his home's door. With the struggle at his job and his wife's constant worrying, Gerald was worn down to just a shell. Still, his eyes lite up at the sight of his family together.

"Kyle." he said with a wave of his hand, motioning for his son to enter his embrace. His luggage was still in his car's trunk, but that was momentarily forgotten. He leapt at the chance, quickly clearing the distance between them until he was a foot away.

He hesitated, unsure if his time away made him...different. Or if his father found him off-putting, now that he aware his son was gay. If he thought so, Gerald didn't say anything.

Based on his pure caution, Kyle rose his hand for a hand shake. Common and practical, something he was sure his father could respect. Be proud of...

"Kyle." Gerald sighed, shoulders drooping at the gesture. This is when Kyle suddenly flinched, heartbeat fluttering like a butterfly with a broken wing.

His father grabbed his arm, yanking his son into a hug. No words were said, but they certainly weren't needed.

Sheila filled the silence with her voice, loud and frequent. And just like always, it sliced cleanly through.

"What are we waiting here for? Let's get ourselves some food, poor Kyle must be famished!"

"Mum, I'm not a child anymore!"

"Don't take that tone with me, young man."

"Leave the boy alone, Sheila!"

Kyle was glad to be home, honestly, he was. Deep down...somewhere...


Meanwhile a similar event was taking place, but the newly deemed lawyer wasn't aware of it. The only difference was it happened for Eric Cartman, and the results were not quite the same.

With all of his efforts and plans to lose contact with his whore of a mother, still Cartman found himself unable to escape her.

He liked to consider himself a rational man, not to mention a genius in a world of idiots. So why return? Moments like these, Cartman hated not having the answers.

It boiled his blood, making it sing out for violence. If he was younger then maybe he'd ease those desires, but times are different. He's different. Better. Cartman 2.0

"You'll be fine, sir." Haley encouraged, going as far as to pat her employer's arm.

He didn't feel fine, he didn't want to do this.

But fuck it, he was Eric Cartman and he isn't scared of anyone. And certainly not his mother.

The call button was pressed, sending a high pitched ringing through the air. Each ring had Cartman's heart pounding in his chest. Thump. Thump.

"Hello?"

No. No. Mission Abort. Fuck. He was bailing. Fuckkk.

That hand on his arm pressed harder, a reminder of Haley's feminine presence.

"Hello?" his mother tried again, voice timid and sweet. A fucking lie; he still felt the same desire to punch something, to scream until he couldn't anymore.

"Hello, Mother."

"E-Eric?"

"Yes, it's me." Cartman rolled his eyes, she was still stupid. "Unless you had more children I need to know about." That was meant to be a joke, but it came out bitter. He frowned at the feeling, of letting his emotions colour his actions. Haley's eyes never left him, unwavering with pity.

"Of course not, you're my precious angel!"

Haley scoffed at that, struggling to keep her giggles secret. She didn't fare well, and Cartman glared at her in response.

She stayed quiet after that.

"Right. I wanted you to know that I'm showing up for the reunion, do you want me to pay you a visit?"

"Oh! Of course, 'hun! Does Mummy have to lend you any money?"

"No, Mom."

"Alright, 'hun. Then show up at any time, besides nighttime! Mummy has to work during the night."

Cartman grunted in response, unconsciously running a hand through his hair. Fucking disgusting.

"See you soon then, 'hun!"

He didn't grace her with a response, and instead hung up.

"Sir, wasn't that rude?"

Cartman narrowed his eyes at the question, eyeing the assistant sprawled across his luxurious hotel bed. Well, as high-quality as South Park got.

"I don't pay you for personal questions, Haley. Did you order me lunch? I still plan on meeting Kenny for a couple of drinks."

"Quite well said, sir." Haley mumbled, before slowly sliding off of the bed. Smoothing the fabric of her dress as she stood back up, she gave him a careful look-over.

"Will that be everything, sir?"

"Yes."

He didn't watch her leave, door slowly closing shut behind her. Eric Cartman didn't need anyone but himself, he was strong now. Or that's what he told himself.

"Fuck!" he roared out, flinging his cell away from him. The device shattered into sharp pieces, scattering across the floor.

Cartman was left with his thoughts, a dented hotel wall, and a broken cell. He fucking hates South Park, that's why it's so easy to watch them burn. And burn they shall.