Author's Note: I do believe things will really be picking up in this chapter. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.
Warning: language
You unlock this door with the key of rejection. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of frustration, a dimension of agony, a dimension of blue balls. You're moving into a land of both shadow and misfortune, of fear and despair; you've just crossed over into the Friend Zone.
Chapter 4
There was a knock on the Stotches' front door. Doom and gloom was palpable from the two-story house; enough that it would make a person question if they really wanted to approach the place.
Despite the police tape covering the door of Butters' room, the Stotch residence was still being inhabited. Linda Stotch knew this because she was still here with Stephan.
Poor Stephan, he was so lost. Like her, he was desperate to find their lost, little boy. He was also on his wits' end. All the trouble that had been caused by this, it needed to be handled delicately. So when they finally had her baby boy back with them, he was going to be so grounded for causing such a ruckus, and giving everybody such a scare.
Of course, there came the question: how do you ground someone when they are not there? Stephan couldn't figure it out so he was on the couch in his bathrobe, staring into space and muttering to himself. He needed to ground somebody and quickly. Otherwise, he might explode from righteous fury.
In the meantime, while not looking her best either, Linda would continue to maintain the home as best as she could. At the very least, whoever was at the door would make for a good distraction.
"Sheila!" she greeted as best as she was able once the front door was open. "It's nice to see you."
Keep in mind that Linda was not looking her best. Her clothes were rumpled, she had split ends, bags under her eyes were showing, and to top it all off, she wasn't wearing makeup. Sheila Broflovski, on the other hand, was all prim and proper with her ironed blouse and hair done up in a beehive of a bun. Perfect contrasts.
"Linda, I need to speak with you," Sheila stated. There was an authority in her voice that made the Stotch woman stay and listen. "I believe I know where your son is."
"You do?" Linda nearly exclaimed, being shushed by Sheila. It was almost as if she didn't want Stephan to know…
"Keep it down, Linda. This is not for…other ears to hear," Sheila spoke softly, looking left and right for potential spies. "I need you to control yourself, Linda. This may be shocking to you but from…sources, I have come to believe that your son, Butters, is in the Friend Zone."
Linda felt her blood still. "Are…are you sure?"
"Your son was witnessed speaking to one of the girls at school, and she turned him down," Sheila explained.
"Which was why he was depressed…" Linda concluded, eyes widening in horror. "No…no! This has to be some kind of mistake!"
"Linda, we are in the same boat," Sheila told her. "My Kyle is also there. We have to make our petition before our boys are…" She couldn't finish, and Linda understood perfectly. "We don't have much time," Sheila picked back up, unable to finish the earlier sentence. "Are you with me?"
"I am." Resolution filled her as she straightened her shoulders. She wasn't about to let her precious son be consumed by the horrifying powers that be without a fight.
Butters still needed to be grounded, after all.
Kyle was feeling tired. So very tired.
He was tired and had absolutely nothing to show for it. No way out, no clues to finding a way out, nada. He was laying right here in the company of Butters and the old man whose commentary on their situation was so old that it was decomposing.
He had to remind himself, it could be worse. He could be stuck in this place with Butters, the old man, and Cartman with his antisemitism. The last thing he needed to be doing was arguing with the fatass who would most likely blame him for somehow getting his fat ass into the Friend Zone.
It was a small mercy, made him feel that much better, but it still didn't change the fact that he was stuck here. The realization of this was slow in coming, sure, and at this point, he was finding it harder and harder to argue with. The Friend Zone was just too endless, and he didn't have the energy or righteous fury to continue fighting.
Kyle turned onto his side, bringing his knees to his chest. He was so tired right now.
"Is something wrong, Kyle? You don't look so good." Butters was now hovering over him. "I think you need to see a doctor."
"Looks ta me like tha Friend Zone is getting to him," the old man remarked. "They all start looking like that when tha Friend Zone starts ta drain 'um dry. I told him not ta be running all over."
"Oh no!" Butters cried out. "Help! Somebody help my friend! He's being sucked dry by the Friend Zone!"
"Just like marriage," the old man commented.
"Sir! There has to be something we can do! Something to help Kyle!" Butters turned to the old man desperately.
"Nothing can be done, once tha Friend Zone has it's claws on ya," the old man replied. "This is only tha beginning. Fortunately, maybe unfortunately, it's a slow process, ya see. Those qwazersteric generators don't fool around; they like ta get every last drop outta ya. 'Course, might be different since this one is a kid. Might take less time."
"No!" Kyle could hear the desperation in Butter's voice. "We have to get out of here! Kyle was right!"
"How can ya get out of a place that has no way ta get out of it?" the old man asked, posing a rhetorical question.
"You've been here for six months! How are you still here?" Butters asked back, ignoring the old man's question.
"Simple, I dun resist. Friend Zone likes those who fight, goes for them first," the old man answered. "Guess it might've forgotten 'bout me."
"But we can't stay here forever!" Butters protested. The blond boy was silent, and Kyle found himself curious about what he would say next. Funny how only now was Butters starting to act. Earlier, the other boy was wanting to stay in one place, even if that place had that annoying old man.
"Sir, I've seen a lot of crazy stuff in my life," Butters stated. "Heck, so has Kyle. But we've gotten through all of them in one piece. Not to be disrespectful or nothing, but if there's anyone who can get out of here, it's gonna be us. Hold on, Kyle. I'm gonna find us a way out. Don't you go nowhere!"
And there went Butters, bravely throwing himself out into the Friend Zone. Sometimes, Kyle wondered why he wasn't closer friends with the kid. He was nice, kind, loyal to a fault, and so very cheerful. He also was a bully magnet. And so incredibly naïve. And gullible. And could be cruel to other people once he listened to other people like Cartman. And could get on your nerves over an extended period of time. And could be so lame. And he was grounded half the time by his parents. And…
Wow, no wonder he wasn't closer with Butters. He was still coming up with reasons why he wasn't friends with him.
Still, Butters was his only hope now.
"A shame," the old man commented. "You boys were starting ta grow on me a bit. Now you'll be sucked til yar husks of ya former selves."
Oh God…Butters was his only hope now.
He was doomed.
Stan was annoyed and frustrated to no end. It was the following day from the day of people watching him all the time, he was no closer to getting into the Friend Zone, and rescuing Kyle. And Butters. Damn it, he had a rope! What could go wrong there!
Obviously something was going on because his totally awesome plan was. Not. Working. At all. And it pissed him off. Like super duper pissed him off.
But that was not all, oh no. The people were still watching him, like they were about to pounce on him at any moment. Like yesterday, Principal Victoria decided she was going to sit in on Garrison's lecture and observe. What she did was observe him, Stan Marsh. All day. And nothing else.
The hallways were not safe either. Any female teacher around was watching him, it didn't matter if they were fifth grade, kindergarten, or pre-K. And don't get him started on the way home. It was starting to scare him when he got to his front door, turned around, and saw a bunch of people just watching him. And all of them were women.
Naturally, Wendy didn't seem to be of help. By that, he meant that Wendy was missing for most of the day. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was avoiding him. Which was ridiculous because he was an awesome and attentive boyfriend. You couldn't get any better than him.
Obviously, he couldn't be alone. So he stuck around the guys all day long. He didn't go anywhere alone, which kinda made it awkward when he needed to go to the bathroom. Most importantly, he made it home yesterday without being abducted or anything.
Yet, Wendy hadn't gotten back with him, and hadn't friend zoned him that day. Hmm, maybe that was why he was still here and not, you know, rescuing Kyle from the friend zone.
He was starting to get the sense that he was running out of time. He couldn't allow that, not when he was so close he could taste Kyle—no homo—and he wasn't about to let the jaws of defeat claim victory from him. No, no, no, he was not going to give up on Kyle just because there was some kind of conspiracy or some shit standing between him and success.
As he was psyching himself up, ignoring the eyes that were watching him, Stan was about to make a mad dash…pretty much anywhere that wouldn't get him kidnapped. The final bell of school was going to ring any moment now and—what? Oh, were you thinking this was morning or something? Like he would go through an inner monologue at the beginning of school. Better to do it at the end when you could miss vital information your teacher was talking about that might be kinda sorta important on such and such test.
Wait, Garrison was giving them a heads up on what was going to be on the next test? Fuck, he needed to be paying attention here and, you know, not doing an inner monologue or some shit.
Before he could commit, the bell that he had been waiting so long for rang and thus made his efforts futile. Damn it, now he was lost, as if that wasn't always the case.
Oh wait, everyone was starting to leave now, which meant he needed to be leaving too. Because not leaving would put him in a position that would make it more likely for the people watching him all the time to snatch him up. Uh uh, no way, nope, not going to happen.
When motivated, Stan was able to do miracles, or at least do something, whatever that something may be. He was out of that class room, sticking around the guys like it was nobody's business. He could already see the home ec teacher watching him like a hawk, but it didn't seem like she was going to be doing anything so long as he stuck around the guys. Looked like boys still repelled girls when in large groups. Take that stupid—
"Hey Stan, it was so nice of you to go out of your way and meet up with me like this," spoke a very familiar, girly voice coming from his side. Wait, hold on, what was—oh hey, it was Wendy! Her arm was snaking around his, she was pushing him to a side, and…away from the guys…who weren't paying any attention to this. "Come on, Stan, we need to talk about that thing we were talking about, just like you promised me."
Wait, had he promised her he was going to talk to about that thing she just mentioned? And what was that thing? Why couldn't he remember what the thing was? Was she being her girl self right now and being as vague as possible and hey, wait a minute Wendy, why were you pulling him away from safety and Wenddddyyyyyyy!
If you were wondering what was going on, Wendy stopped pushing him. She started shoving him, and shove him she did, right into the girls' restroom. Wait, the girls' restroom? Where he was vulnerable because there were no boys in here? Oh Christ, not the girls restroom—say, this place looked nicer than the boys. So much cleaner, even comfy.
The sound of a lock snapped him out of his thoughts where he found only himself and Wendy, alone thankfully. Wendy, however, wasn't being chatty. Wendy was being all action-driven and what not as she marched past him and kneeled onto the tiled floor, checking under the stalls to see if they were alone. Little weird for her to be doing this, he told himself. What was she up to this time?
As soon as she was back on her feet, he found out.
"Stan, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Wendy demanded.
Stan blinked. "I…don't know…?"
She muttered something, might have been, "Figures," but he was having trouble hearing her.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Stan, do you know what kind of trouble you're in right now?" Hmm, sounded like the first question she asked, but with a couple words changed. Was this a trick question?
"Is it the bad kind?"
"It isn't the good kind, if there is a good kind of trouble," Wendy snarked. "I've been asking around, Stan. I had to use some contacts I have—" Wendy has contacts? Why would she have contacts? "—and I managed to come up with something. You're over your head this time, Stan."
"Why don't you tell me what it is?" he suggested. He couldn't take the suspense and the vagueness and why did girls have to be vague all the time?
"You were right, Stan. The Friend Zone is a real place."
…
Sorry, he had trouble processing that. Say again?
So the friend zone was actually the Friend Zone, capital letters as in it really was a physical place? Hot damn, he had been onto something! Take that skeptics, whatever the hell skeptics were!
"And you doubted me," he boasted, reveling in the feeling of being right for once while his girlfriend was wrong. It was always the other way around so this was nice.
"I did, Stan, and maybe for good reason," Wendy continued. "From what I've learned, the Friend Zone is some kind of interdimensional reality that guys get sent to when they've been friend zoned really, really badly. Once there, they don't get out. There's something about their life being sucked out of them, but that was really vague for some reason."
Figures. Speaking of vagueness, if there was anyone involved, it was probably a woman because women were vague and all that.
"But that's not the craziest part. There's some kind of cult, a cult made entirely of women. I don't know how far it goes, but they are crazy powerful, as in you are in an incredible amount of danger right now, Stan."
Ha! He knew it! Only women could be so vague that another women had trouble understanding the vagueness and what was this about being in an incredible amount of danger?
He must have been showing what he was thinking on his face because Wendy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh, she did that too?
"Listen, Stan, this cult seems to have a presence here in South Park. Don't think I haven't noticed all those grown women watching you. We need to do something before they decide to act."
Amen to that. "Well, that's what I've been trying to do. Wendy, help me bust into the Friend Zone so that I can bust Kyle out of there. And Butters too. That'll show those cultists."
"And what will that show them?" Wendy asked.
"I…don't know, but it will show them something!" He puffed out his chest in pride. "Now quickly, Wendy, friend zone me so bad that it will send me to the Friend Zone. We're running out of time!"
"I really don't think that's how it works," Wendy said slowly. "Until we get to the bottom of this, you need to go into hiding, where they can't find you."
"I know the perfect place! The Friend Zone! They won't think to check there!" Brilliant, Marsh, brilliant.
"I think, Stan, that that's the last place you want to go. We don't even know all about it. That could put you into more danger," Wendy pointed out.
"Kyle's already in danger!" he protested.
"Besides, it's some alternate dimension. So far all your attempts to get in have failed," Wendy listed out.
Because someone wasn't doing their part, not that he said that out loud or was pointing fingers or anything, Wendy.
"At this point, unless you know someone who can travel to different dimensions at will, I think we should go with my plan, and hide you some place safe," Wendy stated.
Please, as if there was anyone who could do something like that. Pfft, that was ridiculous. Was there anyone who could do that? It's not like Jesus was around to heeeee—oooooh shit, he knew someone who might be able to help! And what are the odds, they lived in town too! And they had history! They had history…not the good kind of history either.
Suddenly this wasn't looking like a good idea, but if what Wendy was saying was true, then he didn't have a lot of time as it was. He needed to do something and do it now.
"I think I might know someone who can help," he said. With a sigh, he added, "I just hope he's willing to hear me out."
If there was one thing you could say about women, they cleaned up good. When Sheila had seen her, Linda looked like a train wreck. Now she looked like the Suzy homemaker that she typically looked like.
All of which would be points in their favor. It had taken time, but they had gotten their audience. You had no idea how many glitters and sparkles they needed to get this far, and in record time. They only had one shot at this, and they needed to work miracles here.
Here, of course, was your stereotypically underground cultist society clubroom, complete with ancient Greco-Roman pillars, decorative torches, calming incense, ceilings so high you couldn't see them, and cloaked and hooded individuals standing apart at equal intervals. Before them rested a staircase, at the top of which stood a fashionably dressed high priestess.
Religious robes designed by the greatest fashion designers of the era; jeweled rings, bracelets, and necklaces cut by the most expensive jewelers adorned fingers and hung around a smooth neck; and lastly a headdress that was so in right now, it was pushing up against your appendix crowned this important figure. It was impressive to look at, and inspired awe and envy among those in attendance.
"Sisters Broflovski and Stotch, it is a pleasure to have you here," the high priestess welcomed them. "I must say, the urgencies of your sparkles has us curious. Do enlighten us to the severity of your issue."
"If it pleases and sparkles, I wish to bring forth the most urgent matter concerning two recent arrivals into the Zone," Sheila stepped forward, explaining their case.
"What of them, Sister Broflovski?" the high priestess asked.
"We ask that you release them." Sheila paused as she heard murmurs and whispers from the hooded and cloaked figures on either side of her and Linda.
"That is not a little request," the high priestess said, picking and choosing her words. "Why do you make it, Sister?"
"They are our sons, Sister," Sheila explained. "They are only ten years old and have barely begun to live. They won't last as long as an adult would, thus less power can be…" she had to stop and force her next word out, as painful as it was to say, "harvested…from them. The two of us, Sister Linda and I, prostrate ourselves and beg for their release."
"I see you do not bring a simple matter before us, Sister Broflovski. Indeed, it is quite the conundrum." The high priestess began to descend the stairs, bringing herself down to equal footing with the two mothers. "The rule is that no one leaves the Zone once they enter it. For millennia, this has never been broken. At the same time, I, we, emphasize with your plight, my Sister. Despite their masculinity, it is to be expected that a mother forms a bond with their son."
By now the high priestess stood before Linda and her, and Sheila could see the truth in the decorated woman's eyes. "You are not the first, though, to come before the rest of us and ask for the release of an occupant. There have been countless other mothers who have come and begged for the same thing you have and countless times they have been refused. You differ in that the age of the occupants is for debate."
Sheila did not know what to expect at this point. So far, it could go either way. The rules could remain absolute or a never before heard of pardon could be issued. She could only hope, for their boys' sake, that they were the exceptions to the rules.
"We both understand that this is not an easy decision to make," Linda spoke.
"Indeed. This calls for a decision from a higher power than I myself," the high priestess. "We must consult the all-knowing Eye."
Sheila shared a look with Linda? The Eye? Must this go that far?
"Come with me, Sisters. Let us settle this matter once and for all," the high priestess invited, turning around to begin ascending the stairs. Sheila swallowed but accepted the invitation, Linda following her lead. Hopefully, they were one step closer to getting their boys back. Just this one obstacle and this would all be over.
From the top of the stairs, it was a trek deeper into this mysterious place. Behind them, a gathering of cloaked and hooded figures followed after them, all wanting to bear witness to how this would play out. It wasn't everyday that the presence of the Eye was required so a circus was to be expected. Sheila could only wish that this had been somebody else in her place.
Eventually they stopped before a large dais. Twin spikes rested on either end, twisted and designed with intricate geometric shapes. They held an ominous air about them, causing a shiver to go down the Jewish woman's spine.
"Oh all-seeing, all-knowing Eye, we come before you to plea for your wisdom," the high priestess announced for all the hear, bowing at the waist towards the dais. "We, your humble subjects, are in need of your assistance in a matter most confounding. Grace us with your presence, and bestow among us your insight."
Behind them, the gaggle of followers began to hum, a few of them chanting in sync. Almost immediately, the air grew heavy as if some thing had entered their world, something unnatural almost. The upper portions of the twisted spikes began to glow softly, then increase in their intensity. Soft flames blossomed from them, flowing out and inward into the space between the spikes and over the dais. The closer the flames grew to one another, the larger they seemed to become until the met seamlessly.
The flames began to shift and writhe, almost forming a circle, no, closer to an oval of sorts, above the dais. Then in the center of the shape taking form over the dais, a black void slitted through the flames.
They were standing before what now looked like a flaming eye, the black slit almost vibrating as it took in the gathering before it.
"Behold, my Sisters! It is the Eye!" the high priestess proclaimed.
The Eye focused on the high priestess. Then, all in attendance could hear a voice echoing throughout the chamber, speaking in a language long forgotten. It sounded like a bunch of gibberish, at least to Sheila it did, yet she understood every meaningless word…somehow. It was a woman thing, guys wouldn't get it.
"All-knowing Eye, we have a question for which we desire an answer," the high priestess said. "These two Sisters beside me have made a request to release two new arrivals into the Friend Zone. These arrivals are their sons, neither of whom have entered puberty just yet. They argue that the life energy exacted from them will not be satisfactory to maintaining the balance of our world. Impart to us what our actions should be."
This was it, the moment of truth. All they could do was pray as the Eye made its decision.
The two males…
Sheila jerked, hearing that disembodied voice speak clearer than before, as if right next to her. She could understand every meaningless word, and feel the might behind each and every one.
The two males…
Yes, the two males…what? Don't keep them in suspense like this!
The two males…shall remain in the Friend Zone, and their life energies harvested. No one leaves the Friend Zone for any reason.
What? No! No, you can't—! Kyle!
"Well, you heard the Eye. I'm sorry, but your sons shall remain in the Friend Zone," the high priestess said apologetically.
"Please, reconsider! They are just boys!" she cried out, begging the Eye. "They're too young and can't possibly give any energy! Please, at least let them grow up, please!"
Do not dispute my decision. Once it has been made, it is final. There will be no reversal. Have a nice day.
"No! Don't do this to them!" she shouted. "Please don't do this!"
"Calm down, my Sister," the high priestess said soothingly, a hand gesturing towards those in attendance. "Your loss is—"
"Shove it up your ass!" Sheila snarled. Several arms and hands restrained her before she could clock the bitch in the fancy outfit. "You let my Kyle out now! Let him out!"
"It is understandable that you are angry, but there is nothing that can be done. The Eye has decided," the high priestess stated. Directing her next words to the crowd, "Take her to a place where she can calm down. Sister Broflovski has had a…trying day."
"No, you can't do this!" Sheila shrieked, struggling against her fellow sisters as she was led away. "Give me back my son! GIVE ME BACK MY SON!"
Stan only knew of this place because…well, he had been going through a bad time and stalking had been involved. He had been in a bad place, okay? He had done some things he wasn't proud of. Yet, this might be the only thing that could save the day.
It was something he so did not want to do. It was for Kyle, though, so he would have to suck it up.
"Aren't you going to knock or at least ring the bell?" Wendy asked from beside him.
"I'm getting myself ready," Stan told her, staring straight at the door that belonged to an ordinary house. "This isn't going to be easy for me, Wendy."
"Fine, if you're going to be that way." Wendy reached out and rang the doorbell, totally against Stan's wishes because he was the dude here and it should be him who did it. It was a chiver-thing-or-whatever-it-was kind of thing.
The seconds ticked by agonizingly, and Stan was finding out that he was in no way ready for what he was about to do. Nuh uh, nope, this was turning out to be a really bad idea.
"Well, it doesn't sound like anybody's home," he announced, speaking a little too quickly. "Let's get out of—"
The door suddenly opened and Stan cursed all his luck. Of course someone had to be home today of all days. That someone happened to be dressed in all black, had the palest skin you ever saw, and hair that was so black, it made black look like gray or some other color not black. Brown eyes narrowed at him, and Stan had to hold himself back from shoving his foot in his mouth.
"What are you doing here?" a high pitched voice demanded. Ah, yes, he had forgotten about that voice. It was like his voice was constantly cracking.
"Damien," Stan said.
Rectus. Dominus. Cheezy Poofs.
"Did you guys hear something?" Wendy asked aloud.
Stan had no idea what she was talking about. He was too busy looking Damien here in the eyes. "You don't like me, and I hate your guts, but right now I need your help."
"And why should I help you?" Damien asked, hostility radiating from him in waves.
"I'm sensing there's some bad blood here," Wendy butted in.
"You could say that, yeah," Stan agreed, not taking his eyes off the other boy.
"You have ten seconds to either tell me what you want or get off my property," Damien warned. "I hope you waste your time so that I can force you off."
"Stan, what did you do to him?" Wendy asked.
"Oh? He hasn't told you?" Damien snarked. "How predictable."
"Hey, I'm not the person who steals best friends around here!" Stan snapped.
"Oh? And what were you doing? Stealing my former best friend, if I remember right. So do tell me why you've come all this way, Stan. I am in no mood to deal with a best friend stealer like you."
"Oh, oh, you did not go there!" Stan growled, squaring his shoulders and balling his fists.
"I did go there. I went there, had a party, took a picture, and left," Damien spat back.
"Hey, hey, hey, enough with the pissing contest!" Wendy interrupted. "Look, Damien, Stan here has a problem and he thought that you are the one that can help him with it. I don't know how, but that's what he thinks."
"And why should I help him?" Damien was playing hardball, it seemed.
"It's actually more about Kyle than it is Stan," Wendy explained.
"Wait. What about Kyle?" Now Damien's attention was fully on his girlfriend. Stan wondered for a second if this unholy son of a bitch was thinking about becoming a girlfriend stealer because he could so picture this asshole doing it. "Is Kyle in trouble? Tell me!"
"Kyle somehow got himself stuck in the Friend Zone," Wendy told him.
"The Friend Zone? You mean that alternate dimension of hopelessness and despair where all males are sent when they get turned down by their female counterparts?" Damien questioned.
"You know of it?" Wendy looked shocked.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"So are you gonna help?" Stan cut in, aggravated to no end that his girlfriend was getting all buddy-buddy with the asshole of the century, and doing it in front of his face! Hello! Tick tock, tick tock, now was not the time for this kind of shit!
"Of course I'll help," Damien said.
Stan was so ready to argue, but fortunately, the Antichrist's words stopped him from doing that thing he didn't want to do. You know, put his foot in his mouth. Nice save there, Stan.
"You will?" he asked excitedly.
"On one condition," Damien added, giving a small smirk.
Alarms were blaring in his head. "What condition?" he asked warily.
"Oh, it's nothing much," Damien said casually. "Only that I can be Kyle's best friend."
The seconds ticked by…
"Oh fuck that," Stan spat.
"Stan!" Wendy reprimanded him.
"No, fuck that," Stan repeated, scowling at his girlfriend who was supposed to be on his side, not this douchebag's. "You can go to hell," he shot at Damien.
"Been there, done that," Damien replied.
"Stan, be reasonable," Wendy tried to mediate.
"Uh uh, no way, not with that best friend stealer," Stan refused, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring at the pale-ass asshole over there.
"You can't be serious, Stan. You're doing this now?" Wendy deadpanned.
"You know, now that you've told me what's going on, I could go save Kyle on my own," Damien mentioned.
Stan froze. Aw shit, he already gave all his cards away, and now this unholy douchebag could take all the credit for rescuing Kyle, and he could so totally see Kyle buying it, just like last time. God damn it, he was in a corner and Damien had him by his balls. His balls!
"Make it a friend and we're in business," Stan offered.
"Best friend," Damien stated.
"Friend," Stan retorted.
"Best friend."
"Friend."
"Best friend."
"Friend."
"Super best friend."
"De—eeee oh no you don't! I see what you did there! Friend. With benefits. Final offer."
"What's a friend with benefits?" Damien asked, childlike wonder in his eyes.
What a dumbass, not knowing what a friend with benefits was! It was…it was a…what was a friend with benefits anyway? Oh crap, he didn't know what that was! Umm, umm, okay, think of something Stan! Make some shit up!
"I guess…you'll…have to find out for yourself!"
Oh yeah, you're the man, Stan.
Damien eyed him suspiciously, as if weighing his very soul. "Alright. If I help, I get to be friends with benefits with Kyle and no take backsies."
"Deal," Stan agreed, taking off a glove, spitting into his hand, and holding it out to Damien. Shrugging, Damien spat into his own hand then clasped onto Stan, sealing the deal with a shake.
"Boys are so disgusting," Wendy muttered.
"Come inside," Damien invited as he opened the door to his home, standing aside to let the two of them in. "There's much to do and little time to do it in."
Alright, it was go time! Kyle, he's on his way! Hold on!
Author's Note: If you guessed correctly, then you'll have figured out that the all-seeing Eye is a parody of the Eye of Sauron from The Lord of the Rings. Also, if you're having trouble understanding that last scene, check out My New Best Friend. The answers are there for that.