Blindfold
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the famous mentioned things. Too lazy to list them down. (Actually, my sister is forcing me out of my laptop. So I have no time, and I really want to post this now.)
Author's Notes: Yeah, feel Craig's misery. Read on, please. Oh, and I would like to dedicate this to my loathe towards Biology. Also, to InnerSakura101 for the Kenny/Butters idea. I'll get to that scene in the next chapter, maybe. I'm a fan of her drawings. ^^~ Check them out, please! I would like to thank Raigo, XsilverXserenade2, Dolphin-Fly, Darkmoonphase, Don'tKillKenny, Helene, Saiyuri-Chan and InnerSakura101 for the reviews. Happy New Year, guys! Good things will come this year, I just know it. It has to. 2008 felt like shit. Maybe not to me, but for some people out there. Anyway…ON WITH THE STORY!
Chapter Four: You Snooze, You Get Through A Fucked Up Day
I dreaded this day to come. Alas, it did. But who am I kidding? God hates me and the whole of South Park, and who am I to decide how the Earth should function anyway? But looking at the Brightside: I broke into Ruby's Pink-loaded room and found my Hamster clock under her bed. She took out the double A batteries, but I had time to run to the store down the street, all the while devising the perfect revenge. In the end, I bought a roll of duct tape and waited until she turned in for sleep before covering the entire doorway. Midway, I took a piece of short bond paper and wrote 'GOT YA' in big black letters. I'm very sure her door opened inwardly.
I got up early and moved fast. As much as I would like to hear her scream my name at the top of her lungs, I didn't want to face two angry wrinkled faces that are my parents'. They aren't exactly morning persons as well. And so I took a quick shower and left, a few bucks from Ruby's savings in hand. Hiding your money in a transparent Hello Kitty bank under your bed, then hiding your brother's alarm clock with it isn't a very intelligent thing to do.
I scratch the back of my head, careful not to have my hat fall over. Let's see…McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King, White Castle…
I'll go with McDonald's.
I step inside and order a double cheeseburger, large fries, coke and an apple pie. I have about 30 minutes until class starts, so I take a leisure walk around the park. From here to South Park High is a 2 minute walk, so I have nothing to rush or worry about.
Actually, I'm just hoping that 30 minutes won't fly by so quickly. But I must repeat: God hates me and the whole of South Park, and who am I to decide how the Earth should function anyway?
I check my watch, decide to leave for school and shove my unfinished burger and fries down my sling bag then throw away my coke and empty apple pie box. I head for school singing random songs to prevent myself from thinking about what is to come this day. I reach my locker—Clyde and Token already gone for their classes. Every Thursday, their 1st subject is Computer, and the first rule in Comp is to be at the Lab 5 minutes before the bell.
I open my locker and pull out my English Book. "Hey, Craig!" I hear from behind me. I turn my head slightly and see Kenny's grinning face just a few inches away from mine. I give him a sneer and push his face away oh so gently with my palm.
"Ow, fuck! My nose!" He cries, covering the said part.
"What do you want?" I ask after I realize Kyle and Stan are with him.
"Nothing," Kyle answers. "Kenny just saw you and just started walking towards you."
"I was going to bid you good luck!" Kenny says enthusiastically as he pats my back. There is that other remarkable trait of him: schadenfreude. He stays on your side but laughs his ass off when you suffer. Asshole.
"Don't you die on us now," he continues. "I was hoping to hit on you next after I convince Stan to fuck me."
"I'm not gay, Kenny!" Stan yells at him. "No hell way am I going to let you bang me!"
Kenny shrugs his shoulders. "Whatever, Stan. You may not want it now, but you're going to drop on your knees and beg me to give you a blowjob sooner or later." At this, Kyle breaks into hysterical laughter. Stan rolls his eyes and kicks Kyle's shin.
"So, Craig, looks like you're on top of my list now." Kenny says with a wink.
I roll my eyes and grunt. "Likewise to Stan's retort." I say. "Looks like you're gonna have to find another person who's actually willing to be hit on by you."
"Like Butters," Kyle snickers. "That little ray of gay sunshine will do anything for Cartman. He's the paradigm of naivety. Besides, you two would look good together."
I give a smirk as Kenny's eyebrows furrow. And then he crosses his arms, staring down at the floor. I frown. "You're not actually considering that, are you?"
He lifts his head and smirks. "I accept your challenge. I'm Kenneth McCormick, Sex God and King of all Whores. There isn't a thing that I can't do."
"Except to stop dying all the time," Stan comments.
Kenny waves his right hand in the air as if shooing away the said statement.
"If you're self-proclaimed King, go hook up with Wendy then. You'll make the perfect couple," I tell him, ignoring the glare I am receiving from Stan. "Picture the conversation you'd be having over dinner with your dozens of kids: 'So, Wendy, who did you give a blowjob last night?' 'I gave a hot one to Gregory, Ken. Who did you fuck last night?' 'Christophe.' 'Oh, I love you, Kenny!' 'I love you too, bitch!' " I snigger. Kyle laughs hard once again, Kenny shakes his head but smirks, and Stan just crosses his arms and stares at the floor.
"Dude," Kyle says in between giggles. "You mimicking a girl's voice is epic."
I shrug my shoulders. Kenny chuckles. "Yeah, but you trying to copy my sexy voice is epic fail. Jackass."
"Whatever, Ken." I smirk.
"Uhm…Craig?" a soft voice calls. Shit. I frown, roll my eyes and turn around to flip him off.
"What do you want?" I seethe.
"I need your sch-schedule…" He whispers. I furiously scratch the back of my head, my hat falling over in the process. Well, I wouldn't want him tailing behind me every time to know what subject is next. And I especially don't want him to come up to me to ask.
I grunt and scavenge my locker. Kenny, Kyle and Stan have backed away to have a better view of what is to come. I retrieve a folded paper and open it up. I read the title at the top of the page: Sched. Yeah, this is it. I shove it against his chest. "There. Keep it. I don't want to hold things you did." He stares at the paper then nods. I sneer and bang his head hard on the locker. He clutches the side of his head and bites his lip to refrain himself from screaming in pain. "Horsefucker, this is all your fault!" I yell at him before I push him backwards, flip him off and leave. "I fucking hope that you die, not me."
~.::.~
English is the first subject, and I take my usual seat at the side near the window. Anne, my seatmate, went to sit beside Red somewhere at the back. I guess everyone received word of my misery. I would have been so happy to not have that Renee Zellweger whore beside me, but then I remember the reason why she isn't.
I bang my head on the table to avoid looking at Spaz. This is killing me…
"C-Craig…?"
Must. Not. Answer.
"Y-you dropped your hat…"
Oh shit, I forgot about that. I guess I was in so much hurry to leave that I didn't pick my hat up from the floor. Oh god, and now he's touching it, isn't he?
I lift my head up and glare at him. He fucking is.
"I'm s-sorry for touching it…K-Kenny and the others d-didn't notice…th-thank you for the s-schedule…" He stutters that really fucking annoys me.
I snatch my hat, then grab the collar of his shirt. "Listen, let's make this easy for me. I don't want you talking to me—hell, I don't even want to hear your voice! I'm going to go sleep through all my classes so I wouldn't see your ugly face, so I suggest you help me and shut up or I will do the honors and fucking end all this!" I conclude threatening to wring his neck.
"GAH!" He screams, then covers his mouth quickly.
I release him. "Good." I rest my head on my folded arms on top of my desk.
"Good morning class," I hear Mr. Garrison greet.
"Good morning, Mr. Garrison," the class replies. I didn't hear Spaz—that is so fucking great.
"And?"
"Good morning, Mr. Hat."
Jesus, I hate Mr. Garrison. He's a fag that had a sex change then changed back to a man and is seriously more fucked up than all of us, what with his fucking puppet he fags over and he thinks is a person. But I'd rather be stuck with him than the Freak beside me.
"All right," Mr. Garrison says. "Today we're going to discuss Phonemes and Transcribing words."
YAWN. I'm going to go sleep through this. I don't need to listen to the fag talk about how he had such a hard time in College because of that topic and how everyone in his class were pronouncing aloud to transcribe the words in their test right and how they were forced to memorize the phonemes and blah blah blah…
It didn't take long for me to drift to sleep, and thank god! But, to me, it also didn't take long for me to wake up from a dream about flying cows and milk carton-shaped shit falling down from the sky to Mr. Garrison yelling: "You'll be working as partners, so choose away." I lift my head up, rubbing the crud out of my eyes and trying hard to suppress a yawn. There were writings on the board—I guess I was out for quite a while, it seems. Mr. Garrison looks at me and says: "Except for you, Craig. You're with Tweek."
I grunt and roll my eyes. "No need to fucking rub that on my face, faggot," I murmur. I turn towards Spaz. "What are we supposed to do?"
He glances at me for a split second before looking back down at his desk. "Transcribe."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Uhm—the words…we're supposed to…" He gulps and twitches. "Er…transcribe them…"
I scoff. "Just fucking show me, goddamnit, if you can't explain it! Jesus…"
He jumps a little and faces me, placing his spiral notebook down on his lap. The word 'Condolence' is written on the page. He shakily writes a slash, then mutters: "You're s-supposed to write the w-word by how it's p-pronounced, but using the ph-phonemes or the p-pronunciation s-symbols…" He lifts a chart of the phonemes as his guide and starts transcribing.
In the end it looked like /kendolens/ with the 'e's upside down and the 'o' with a dash above it.
"So you just have to follow the chart?" I question. He nods in reply. I grab the chart from him and take a look. There are three columns: the first two are symbols (IPA and Webster as the headings) and the third column has sample words. "How many words are we supposed to transcribe?"
"Uhm…19 left…"
I scowl. "All right, you take the next 9 words and I take the second half," I tell him, foraging through my bag for my notebook. "And—godfuckingdamnit—we'll have to share your chart."
At the first few words, I had a hard time. I guess when you start trying to transcribe words, they all start to sound the same. And the fucking schwa isn't any help to me. Why didn't Mr. Garrison just let us transcribe one-syllable words like cat or dog or shit or something. I don't even know half of the words on the list. What the hell is a libretto? Does it have something to do with nachos?
As soon as I finish, I bang my head on my desk in relief. "Frikkin' done…"
I look up to Spaz who was fidgeting and biting his pencil eraser. I grumble: "What?"
He bites his lip and glances at me for a split second, then tugs his hair.
I sneer. "What?!"
He squeaks.
"Just fucking say it," I demand.
He gulps. "B-baggage…"
I close my eyes and stay silent in deep annoyance. But I must congratulate myself: I have gone through the first hour of my day with Spaz. I tolerated working with him for the first time, so if it starts this good, then I have nothing to worry about…I hope.
I sigh, eyes still closed. " 'i'."
~.::.~
"Dude, you all right?" Clyde asks me as soon as I enter the Journalism classroom.
"I'm breathing," I tell him simply, placing my bag down beside my seat.
"How did it go?" Token questions next.
"Fine. I slept in class." I answer, receiving understanding nods from the two. "Got through a partner activity. We split the work so we wouldn't have to talk to each other."
"Glad it's working out for you, so far," Token says.
I shrug. "I guess that's my battle plan: sleep."
And that's how it went throughout the day. We didn't do anything special during Journ, just listened to Clyde and Token converse during Recess, got longer snooze time during Health (woke up in time for a test and I passed it cleaner than it should have been), and now I'm eating my unfinished burger and fries at our lunch table—our meaning Clyde, Token, Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny respectively clockwise from me.
"It's pretty obvious you'll stay a virgin, Fatass," Kyle says to him. "Whether you like it or not."
"I thought Ken's gonna get laid with all the guys now?" Clyde says with a smirk.
Kenny sips his juice. "Yeah, but that'll be a long time from now. When that time comes, I'm gonna slip some weight loss pills in his food when he isn't looking, I guess." The entire table bursts out laughing, sans Cartman and I just smirked.
"Ay! I'll have you know that some girls out there think I'm hot!" Cartman retorts.
"Says the bottom of the list," Token says, chuckling.
"Oh, sure. Are you a virgin, nigger?" Cartman yells at him.
Token shrugs it off and was about to reply when Kenny bangs his palms on the table, a beaming grin on his face. "Okay, let's have a bet, fatass!" he addresses Cartman. "If one of us says he's a virgin, we'll have to give you all the money in our pockets and our lunch."
I look down at my food. Just 2 or 3 fries. I look at the others' food—enough to satisfy the fatass.
Cartman glares at Kenny. "You're on!"
Kenny chuckles and stretches his arms. "You all know Kenneth McCormick, Sex God and King of all Whores!"
Clyde smirks. "And I'm following his footsteps."
"And he's the 2nd fatest kid in town," Kyle comments.
Clyde's smirk turns into a sneer. "I'm fucking bigboned, goddamnit!"
"That's what they all say," Token replies.
Kenny points at Stan. "Got laid?"
He averts his eyes and mumbles: "Wendy…"
"Oh, yeah," Kenny says, then turns to Kyle. "Kyle, my little Jew boy?"
"Bebe," he answers, twirling the pasta on his food plate. "She got me drunk and we hit it off."
"Token?" Kenny then questions.
"Wendy," Token looks at Stan apathetically. "Sorry, dude."
Stan crosses his arms, still avoiding eye contact. "Whatever."
All look expectantly at me—Cartman still having high hopes. Kenny puts his arm around my shoulders and says: "And Craig Tucker, numero uno of the controversial List back in fourth grade, potential Badass of South Park High, victim of—"
"Nope," I answer blatantly.
Everyone's eyes widen, mouths hanging—sans Cartman who's mouth broke into a beaming grin likewise to Kenny's when he suggested the bet.
"…What?" Kenny questions.
I sigh. I could say 'Just kidding, you fucktards! Haha! I like fucked 3 or 4 chicks, already! What do I look like to you, a pussy?' And everyone would break into laughter and sighs of relief, while Cartman would be cursing at us like we're the only ones in the Lunch Room. But I'm not that type—the Liar type. You'd think I would get it from my parents, but you see, I hate them so much that I pity myself for being their child and so I make it a point not to grow up to be like them. Except for the whole Beating Up Spaz thing I'm so infamous for.
"Sorry, guys," I say. "I'd rather not ride in with the Pre-marital Hanky-Panky Wagon."
"Oh, you're such a pussy, Craig," Cartman tells me, obviously in a good mood.
"Shut it," Clyde tells him. "Unlike you, if Craig's willing, he could get a babe in a matter of seconds!"
"Top of the List here," Kyle informs.
I scoff. "If the girls had a chance to renew that kiddy list, it'd be Kenny on top, no questions asked."
"Humble," Kenny chuckles, patting my head. "And moral. When it comes to getting laid, I mean."
"Whatever, dudes." I reply, pulling out the dollar bill I still had in my pocket. "And, hell, a bet's a bet."
The whole table groans to the sound of a fatass laughing in sweet success.
~.::.~
Next is Biology. Kyle now sits beside Stan to give way to Spaz. Mr. Vitner comes in, an evil smirk plastered on his face when he fixes his gaze upon Spaz and I. I glare at him and flip him off. He ignores me—too much in a good mood.
"All right, class. It's that time again when we think of Science Investigatory Projects." At this, the class groans. It's practically the worst project we have to do every year. "You're going to work as partners, so when I call your name, choose a buddy. Kyle Broflovski?"
"Stan," he says grinning to his super best friend.
"Whole name!" Mr. V barks.
"Stanley Marsh, sir!" Kyle replies, quivering.
"Kenneth McCormick?"
Kenny turns around to look at Cartman in the eye. He smirks then sticks his tongue out. "Leopold Stotch, sir!"
Cartman's mouth hangs in disbelief. "Butters?!"
Butters blinks in confusion. "H-Huh?"
Kenny laughs in triumph. "Pay back from getting my meatloaf, fatass!"
I glance over to Kyle and Stan talking to each other, taking quick looks at Kenny and Butters. I know we're all thinking the same thing.
"Settle down!" Mr. V yells. "Clyde Donovan?"
"Token Black," he answers. Token looks at him then rolls his eyes. It's obvious that Clyde chose Token because Token's a smart ass and would most likely get them both an A+. If Clyde wouldn't care about hid grade, he would choose a Wendy-bitch.
"Barbara Stevens?" Mr. V continues.
"Wendy Testaburger."
"Rebecca?"
"Heidi."
And it goes on until Mr. V calls Pip's name.
"Philipp Pirrup?"
Pip looks around, then lays eyes on Cartman, probably screaming in his head. He looks at me, then at Spaz. "Oh, I guess there isn't any other choice, sir," he says in his annoying British accent. "I'd have to pick Eric Cartman."
Cartman bangs his head on the desk.
He writes it down and looks smugly at me. "And the notorious Craig Tucker is with the edgy Tweek Tweak." He chuckles. "How…exciting."
I bite my lip and flip him off. "Suck it, asslicker!"
He sneers back at me and seethes: "I will let that pass, for now, Tucker!"
The rest of the period, we had to plan what our project would be. For 5 minutes, Spaz and I say nothing to each other, letting my head cool off. And then I speak: "Go think of something."
He twitches. "Gah!—too…much…pre—"
"OF COURSE THERE'S FUCKING PRESSURE, FREAK!" I yell at him, earning stares from the whole class. "Go think of something, 'cause I'm pretty pissed right now and I don't want you coming to my house if we don't think of a project to propose by the end of Bio! All right, Spaz?!"
"Craig Tucker!" Mr. Dickshit yells from across the room.
"FUCK OFF!" I scream at him, jumping to my feet with tightened fists.
"Counselor's office, NOW!"
~.::.~
"And then he just makes fun of me! Can you believe that asshole?! He fucking knows I'm suffering like hell, and he laughs at me! Well, Ken kind of laughed at me too, but he's Kenny! I just want to fucking kick Mr. Biology in the nuts like there's no tomorrow!" I slump back in my chair as I finish, pouting.
Mr. Mackey stares at me wide eyed. "W-Wow, Craig…so it's Mr. Vitner you're mad at?"
"Yes!" I scream.
He nods and writes something down his notepad. "It's the first time you came here and ranted on someone besides Tweek, mmkay," he says smiling.
My eyes widen only slightly. "What?" Well, I didn't really have any problems with him that much because I slept through all my classes. It's my only salvation from Spaz, really. Should I say that? Or is he gonna rat me out and tell all my teachers to watch out for a snoozing Craig? "You know, sometimes I get tired of stressing over him. It shouldn't be a surprise that I don't bitch about him…you know…" Not exactly a lie, but not entirely the whole truth. I guess I win.
"So…are you doing well?" he asks me next.
I groan. "Bio's gonna end soon, and we've got no topic yet for the IP. And—fuck! He's gonna have to come to my house so we could think of something! SHIT!" I exclaim, banging my knuckles on my knees.
"Mmkay, Craig, just ignore Mr. Vitner's taunts. It'll soon pass…when you finally make peace with Tweek."
"That is not going to happen, okay?" I stand. "I'll die before you see us together. Before anyone sees us together. I hate Spaz, and that's that."
~.::.~
Statistics flew by fast, thanks to Cartman being kidnapped by a House Bunny and Clyde doing this funny jig to the music of Billie Jean and Kyle and Stan making out in a flower field and Kenny and Token parodying Genie in a Bottle—all that being a dream, of course. Something I wouldn't mind happening. I mean, please: Could someone take the fatass away for good? And jesus, Clyde looked ridiculous! I want to video tape that and maybe perhaps broadcast his pelvic thrusts in YouTube! And hell, that was some hot Jew-Pussy loving I dreamt about! And I could care less of what Kenny and Token were writing.
I didn't have club today and so didn't Spaz. And as much as I hated it, I had to invite him over so we could think of a topic, then create the draft of the proposal tomorrow. If that horsefucker of a Biology teacher wasn't so impatient, then I wouldn't even be talking to Spaz after class.
"I…have to t-tell my p-parents first…" he tells me, pulling on the hem of his shirt.
"Whatever, freak. My house is the one near Raisins. Our mailbox's got my surname on it, so just look for that one. Jesus, I hate this." I shake my head from side to side.
"…O-okay…" he answers, twitching.
I lift my hand up, fingers spread out like a fan. "Here. For Biology. For the whole fucking day." He lifts his head up slightly, confusion etched on his face. I furrow my eyebrows, grab his hair with my raised hand and throw him against the wall. "You didn't think I wanted a High Five, did you, Twitch?"
I left him like that.
When I got home, I only had 30 minutes of privacy when I heard a faint knock on the door.
I turn the TV off and answer the door. Spaz stands there twitching, a laptop bag hanging over his right shoulder and a new Harbucks thermos on his hands.
I grunt and head towards the door. "Room."
When we got to my room, I drop myself on my bed, burying my face on the newly washed bed sheets.
I hear him take his laptop out from its bag, and flipping of pages. I glance at him and see him searching through our big-assed Biology book. Our topic has to be Biology-related, that is it should concern life: animals, people or nature. The sound of the chickens break the awkward silence. I pull out my phone from my pocket.
1 new message: Clyde
I press the open option. we didn't c u bell. r u home?
I reply: ip w/ spaz. dying
His next message is this: still praying
I groan. I look back at Spaz, now biting his fingernails and twitching terribly. I roll my eyes. "Just fucking get us a topic, okay? I want you out of my house soon!"
He jumps. "Can-can't…choose—too much p-pressure!" He shrieks. I roll of my bed, landing on the floor on my back. I grab his collar and pull him towards me. "I don't fucking care about you and your problem. I just want a topic right now so I could shove my finger up Mr. Bio's ass. Now go suck your face in that laptop of yours and GET US A PROJECT!" I push him away in anger and climb back up my bed. Just being with him in one room is like being inside a Gas Chamber during Hitler's reign.
And no later did I drift away to sleep. But I awake from a nightmare about Cartman's massive ass on a Dance Club. I groan, rubbing my head. I prop myself up and find Spaz, still here, sprawled on the floor and typing away on his laptop.
I yawn, catching his attention. I ask him: "Got one?"
He replies quietly: "Biomass…if it would make a great added ingredient to self-hardening clay…i-it's related to life…sort of…"
I continue to stare at him. I move to the edge of the bed, feet now touching the floor. I lean forward and rest my forearms on my legs. "Look."
He pauses. I'm guessing he's listening.
"We won't survive if we keep working like this. You got us a topic and that's a fucking relief. So here's the deal: You write the project proposal draft, and I do the experiment. Fair enough? If it isn't for you, I don't give a fuck. So got it?"
He stays there motionless, then quietly gathers his things, turns his laptop off and keeps it in his bag before leaving my room and my house without saying another word.
And for a moment there, I thought I'm actually bothered.
Haha! Joke of the year!
Further Author's Notes: I'll be going back to school on Monday. So updates may be slower. I'll try hard to post soon again. Really, I will! I've got chockfull of ideas for the next chapter, so don't you worry. ;) Forgive me if there are errors. And yeah, Craig's not much of a jackass in this chapter. Ya, srsly. But you could kick his balls, if you want to. Read and Review, please. :D
