"The Former Life of Stan" - Chapter Four
Dr. Marshall sighed, "All right, everyone please give a warm welcome to the newest member of our cynicism therapy sessions... Mr. Hat." he motioned to the small puppet over Mr. Garrison's hand as everyone clapped lazily, "Mr. Hat is forty-three years old, homosexual, racist and enjoys barbecues, romantic movies and masturbating to football games."
"Hi Mr. Hat." everyone greeted with boredom. A lot of people looked ready to leave, "Dr. Marshall, can we end this stupid thing already? It's not doing any fucking good." Stan asked, arms crossed.
"Just a few more questions, Mr. Marsh." began Dr. Marshall,
Stan's grandfather Marvin looked both ways, "Huh? What?" Dr. Marshall facepalmed and looked at his clipboard,
"All right... now, what doesn't look like shit to you guys?" he asked curiously, looking around at his subjects. They all shifted uncomfortably. Timmy rolled up,
"Timmah... timmay tim tim timmah... livin' a law timmay..."
"Terrible story, Mr. Burch." Dr. Marshall took off his glasses and wiped away some tears, "You have such a way with words, young man. How about you, Mr. Tucker?"
"Fingers." Craig admitted, crossing his arms, "That's it. Hands and fingers always look normal to me." He flipped him off, possibly for emphasis.
"Very good... and, uh, how about you, Mrs. Stotch, you've been quiet today?"
"I... knitting always helps me feel better... I've knitted little Butters so many sweaters, but as soon as he wears them they just turn into shit, just like him... oh God..." she began crying into her arms again, as if some kind of vital life line had been cut.
"All right then, Linda." Dr. Marshall took notes on his clipboard, "How about our new member, Mr. Hat? What isn't shitty to you?"
"Penises. Nice long cocks... they're absolutely normal to me, always... especially-"
"I think that's enough to traumatize our younger readers. How about... uhh... the others?" Dr. Marshall asked the remaining members of the group.
"My brother and the internet. I love hearing Shtan'sh little screamsh of pain every time I push him down the shtairsh... and Amirsh' schreamsh of anger when I menshion Kevin McCormick..." Shelly explained with a yawn, sounding a bit nervous at that last line.
"...Drinking helps me." Grampa said with absolutely no detail or explanation.
Mr. Stevens shifted, "Just, you know, work. Work always helps, I guess... but even that's starting to fade back to shit." he said with a heavy dose of skepticism, "Nothing's been unaffected. I can't even enjoy my wife anymore... I didn't marry her because of her brains, people!"
Sparrow yawned, "Notebooks and pencils. I lost notebooks... pencils are all I have left..."
"All right then..." Dr. Marshall finished his notes, "The next question we're going to cover... what is your take on how you became cynical? Mr. Marsh, first? The-the younger one!"
"Well I dunno, I just, it all happened on my birthday, but I guess maybe it went back further than that. Now I can't even look at my best friend without seeing how-" Suddenly a timer went off with a foul beeping,
"And it seems that's all the time we have for today." Dr. Marshall sighed, "Gang, we made a lot of progress today. We regroup tomorrow, same time, okay? I have another meeting to get to so get out of here already." he told them, looking over his clipboard as the cynics all proceeded to leave. He approached the telephone and held it to his ear, "Mackey? Yes, it's Marshall. Gather the team."
xXx
"All right, class, that ends our coverage of the first season of Gossip Girls, remember to turn in your homework before class tomorrow... except you, Clyde, you get an 'A' as long as you bring in an example of those shoes I mentioned." Bebe smiled and turned off the projector, letting the screen roll up. The bell then rang and the kids all filed out to the hallways.
"Awesome!" Clyde said, cheering as he left to meet his friends. Bebe was the last to enter the hallway, casually observing the chaos around her - may be chaos, but the chaos to which she had grown accustomed. She saw her boyfriend approach his current group of friends Kyle, Kenny and Cartman at their lockers before she left to attend to her own.
"So you guys wanna meet up in World 43 and fight some of those Cardassians?" Cartman asked as he took his books under his arm, "Those guys seriouslah piss me off."
"What? Why are we hurting the Kardashians?" asked Butters, stopping in his tracks, holding his books, eyebrows wide, "Haven't they been through enough, Eric?" Butters was not fond to recall their death months earlier.
"...Butters godammit, fuck off you stupid melvin." Cartman said with annoyance as Butters nodded and left, "Well assholes?" he looked to his friends for answers. Kyle and Kenny both looked down, but Clyde merely shrugged,
"I'm down for World 43 tonight."
"I'll try to show up, but I might be kind of busy..." Kenny confessed, unsure how much to tell his friends about his plans for the evening - what if they're offended? No, they wouldn't be, they wouldn't even ask what he's up to...
"Oh, I see how it is Kinny!" Cartman sneered before turning to leave, "Come on Clyde, Kahl." Kyle and Clyde followed, Kyle turning back to give Kenny a confused look before continuing off with them, "So Kahl you gonna be there?" Cartman asked as they faded off into the distance.
"Not really..."
"That's fahn."
Kenny sighed to himself, "Is it too much to ask to have a best friend? Someone who really gives a fuck if I live or die?" he said as the hallways began to clear. Token and Jason walked by with their books, and then a passerby turned,
"Nngh I know how you feel!" Tweek replied, passing by as he reached his own locker, "I don't have a best friend either!" he quickly opened it and grabbed his books frantically.
Kenny looked back, "...Hey, are you thinking what I am?"
Tweek slammed his door shut, holding his stuff with both arms as he shook, so it didn't go flying everywhere, "Probably not, ack, unless you think your parents were raped by the underpants gnomes too, nngh."
"...I wouldn't say raped..."
xXx
After the therapy session ended, Stan was walking home outside, watching as Craig was picked up by his mother. Ms. Stotch was walking with Stan, considering she lived on the same street anyway.
"...and ever since I left the car that day poor Butters has looked like nothing but poo to me..." she cried, "It never got me before but that day, that horrible day... and Chris-"
"Is it Stephen or Chris? Make up your damn mind." Stan reprimanded, but Linda sighed,
"I will when he does, believe me... then again after four in the afternoon all that comes out of that man's mouth is endless shit."
"God, you know this'd be alot more interesting if I actually cared at all." Stan told her angrily,
"Fine, walk home by yourself then!" Linda cried, desperate for companionship but knowing when she was not wanted. Stan sighed, taking the road behind the school, hoping not to run into his old friends. Assholes, abandoning him, he thought. He continued to walk until he heard a familiar smoky voice, "Well Raven, it's been quite a while."
"Look you guys, I just want to get home from my cynicism therapy, okay?" Stan told the Goths - Wednesday, Razor and Pagan stood, Stan raised an eyebrow, then Sparrow walked past him, sat with the group, and proceeded to raise an eyebrow,
"Cynicism? Aw man, that is uber cool, totally hardcore goth right there." Pagan said, "I wish I had a disease like that."
"No, you don't dude, okay? All you see is shit, everywhere, shit and turds, and diarrhea, and stuff like that. It's a living hell." Stan glared, "My parents divorced, my friends abandoned me and I cant' even play Xbox without seeing giant turds. Is that really what you want in life? Really?"
"My parents are already divorced." Pagan took a whiff of his cigarette.
"I already have cynicism." Sparrow said bitterly.
"Yeah, our lives can't get worse." Wednesday added.
"Uh, yeah, they can. What would you have if not each other, unified by a mutual hate for conformists." Stan noted.
...ugh, just leave us alone you poser." Wednesday said with annoyance - she liked Raven, but did she hate Stan.
"You know what? I'll answer it for you: nothing. You're just four pathetic hypocrites who think you're so gddamn 'cool' for being non-conformist but all you do is the exact same black emo shit over and over again. Then you sit and whine about your problems, drink coffee and write gay poetry and yell at people who use any term besides 'goth' to describe you, and just wallow in your own misery. You act like you're so apathetic and uncaring but you're really just a bunch of attention whores trying to look cool by pretending not to care, and it works because now all the guillible people think you're so 'deep'. You're all the same, just conforming to each other, despite your distaste for conformists." Stan then spat, "Fuck you all, right in the ear."
"...did he just accuse us of being conformists?" Razor said in disbelief.
Stan continued walking when again he was stopped, this time by Wendy. "Where have you been all day, Stan? I've been getting really worried about you..." she confessed. Stan glared,
"Leave me alone, Wendy." he told her angrily, closing his eyes, then trying to walk off but her stepping in front of him.
"Stan, please tell me what's wrong, you're not acting like yourself."
"Wendy, look..." Stan sighed, "I think... I think we need to see other people." he told the Wendy-shaped pile of shit in front of him.
"Wh-what?" Wendy's eyes widened, looking like she'd been kicked, "Are... are you...?"
"Yes, Wendy, I'm breaking up with YOU. I've had enough. Goodbye." Stan turned and kept walking even as she protested.
"Stan, wait-"
"No." Stan turned, "I'm sick of waiting - face it Wendy, I'm through with you. I mean, we're ten years old, clearly the fact we're that young means we don't care about each other at all."
"Is... is that what this is really about?" Wendy said, tearing up but scowling, "You're such a child sometimes, Stan. You turned ten and now you feel old, so you're pushing away everything you used to love to make yourself seem older. You're getting old Stan, but you're still young." Wendy told him, sighing, "Look... it was fun while it lasted." she kissed him on the cheek and left.
xXx
"Gentlemen, we are the best psychological minds Park County has to offer, surely there's something we can think of!" Dr. Marshall said, gathered with Mr. Perkins from Lake Tardicaca, multiple personality specialist and local City Wok owner Dr. William Janus, school counselor Mr. Mackey, Dr. Jonathan Katz, child psychiatrist and suspected pedophile Dr. "Pal", little person Dr. Nelson and hoarding specialist Dr. Chinstrap.
"I-I'm kind of in the middle of s-s-s-something very important..." Dr. Katz replied, shaking rather erratically as he spoke.
"And what's that?" asked Mr. Perkins, looking gravely concerned with Dr. Katz' condition, "You didn't finish, it's always important to let people finish." he explained.
"Having a v-v-v-very severe s-s-seizure..." Katz explained quietly.
Mr. Mackey looked at the two with concern, "Don't worry, m'kay, if worse things come to worse, we all know the mind meld, am I right, m'kay?" he looked around, most of his fellow counselors nodding. The technique was passed down from counselor to counselor - of course they all knew it.
"Yeah, and me and Dr. Nelson can always take off our shirts and kiss to help out, too." Dr. Pal pointed out. Dr, Nelson looked at him in anger,
"...am I the only one who fucking hears this guy?" Nelson said to his other companians, "This is total sexual harrassment. You see, words are like bullets..." he began to waddle, er, walk.
Tuong Lu Kim's fists clenched and shook as he sat unwillingly on the couch, "Ah don't even know rhat I'm doing heeyah. I tryya manage nice Chirese reshtaraunt and man with barroon head take me array!" he crossed his arms with annoyance. He had a restaraunt to manage!
"M'kay... I don't remember Dr. Janus being Chinese." Mr. Mackey remarked, sitting next to the stubborn Chinese man on the couch.
"Maybe we'll find out if we measure him?" Dr. Pal suggested with a sick, sick grin.
"Stop!" Dr. Marshall rose from his seat, "This is serious! We're all brilliant, scientific, psychiatric minds! Chinstrap, background?" Dr. Chinstrap nodded and began providing his various dramatic Inception-style noises to accompany them, "Cynicism is up 350% from where it was two years ago, and South Park's rate of cynicism has gone from 10% in 2006 to a whopping 35% this April, and it's just climbing higher. Not to mention rates for South Park alone are more than triple the national average. We have an epidemic on our hands, boys, and if we don't get it under control in six months... the entire town could becoming nothing but cynical assholes."
"...boom-boom-boom-boom-chaaa!" Chinstrap finished, outstretching his arms for emphasis.
"...da fucka-you talkin' abrout?" Lu Kim/Janus said.
"M'kay, what we need to do is locate the original patient zero." Mr. Mackey said, tapping a pencil to his chin, "You know, m'kay, the first person to suffer. They should hold a cure, or at least some important answers, m'kay." he pointed out. The other psychologists looked in astonishment,
"I like the way you think, Mackey." replied Marshall, pointing his pencil at him before looking down at his notebook, "There is one person in my therapy group so ancient he could hold the disease's origins within him..."
"Do you people hear yourselves?" came Dr. Nelson's voice in interruption, the others looking at him suspiciously. He waddled forward, "It doesn't work that easily! You don't just find patient zero and cure it like that, if it was that easy we'd all be safe."
"...oh my God, Nelson's got it, too! Pal, take him to my soundproof basement alone in the dark and tie him up - take as much time as you need, we know he's a struggler." Marshall said as Pal grabbed Nelson's arms with a smirk, dragging the midget.
"Me and my little mouth..." Nelson mumbled as he clawed at the ground.
"All right, let's find us a patient!" Chinstrap smirked, clapping his hands and looking at the other psychologists with excitement.
xXx
Stan sat in his bedroom with his Nintendo Wii hooked up, sighing as he played a game of Godzilla: Unleashed - he and the guys played group games years ago, Kenny as Varan, him as Godzilla, Kyle as Anguirus, Butters as Baragon, Cartman as Destoroyah because of that fucking cheap glitch... Stan sighed. He had to go through all his Xbox 360 and Wii games, something had to work. He started it up and began a match. "Ugh... I don't remember the game being this shitty..." he said, mashing buttons, "Ugh, these controls are complete shit... and the roster is shitty, it doesn't even have Hedorah and he's made of shit for real! And all these shitty glitches... you can't even stop Destoroyah! He kicks the shit out of you! And Mothra's tail is shitty and... aw godammit, I'm doing it again!" Stan shut off his Wii and sighed. Was nothing sacred anymore?
"Stanley, are you all right?" Sharon opened his bedroom door and peeked in, "I want to make sure everything's okay, sweetie, you know mommy cares about you very much even if she's not with Randy anymore because he's a selfish asshole. And even though you and your sister will have to put up with possible a new father and of course new boyfriends, I'll always spend time with you and care about you both."
"Okay, mom, I understand." Stan nodded, "But mom, could I ask-" There was a loud ringing.
"Sorry Stanley, Mitch is here, can't talk!" Sharon left the room swiftly making a beeline for the door. Stan walked after her, catching her fluffing her hair before opening the door for Mitch Harris, one of the police detectives, and Sgt. Yates' closest officer, "Oh, hi Mitch." she said quietly, "How are you?"
"Oh, I was just in the neighborhood investigating a grisly murder case a few blocks away and thought I'd drop by check on you. How are things, Sharon?" Mitch asked non-chalantly.
"Oh, everything's absolutely fine, I was just visiting with my son, you know." she tucked some of her fine brown hair behind her ear, "How are you, Mitch? Saving the town again from some filthy soulless murderer?" she batted her eyelashes, trying to flirt with him. Mitch didn't seem to notice,
"Glad to see you're all right then, Sharon. Hey, I was wondering if we could have dinner at Mel's Buffet tonight, my treat?" Sharon grinned at Mitch's offer,
"Of course Mitch, pick me up around eight, I'll freshen up and everything." she nodded toward him, already mentally going through her dresses and makeup, trying to decide exactly what to wear for him, trying to consider every little possibility.
"Well congratulations, Mitch, you're the first one who didn't just hit it and quit it." Stan said from behind Sharon, very apathetic. Mitch raised an eyebrow, "Mom's had like eight boyfriends in a week and a half since we moved and all of them had sex with her and dumped her - first she ran into Mr. Garrison at Mick's Lanes, then there was Scott Tenorman, and her boss, one of the Mayor's aides, some dude named Liam... not to mention I know at least my friends Kyle and Kenny think she's hot."
"Oh... wow, that's-"
"Stanley, go to your room!" Sharon said angrily, turning around and putting her hands on her hips,
"Hey mom, where's Shelly? Oh wait, you don't know, you're too busy dating all the guys in town when all they want to do is see your tits!" he said madly, going back to his bedroon.
"...is now a bad time, Sharon?" Mitch finally asked as she sighed.
"Stanley hasn't taken the divorce very well, Mitch, this is all very new to him I guess... besides, he's wrong." Sharon said bitterly, "I did not sleep with all of those men." Of course not, she'd never sleep with Garrison. "I'll see you at eight, Mitch, and I apologize for my son's unruly behavior."
"It's fine. I'll see you later." Mitch nodded and walked back to his police car and left just as a convertible pulled up, the same one Randy had last time they divorced. He opened the door and Shelly came out and they both walked up to the door,
"Hey Sharon, just bringing Shelly home. She needed a ride from seeing that Kev McCormick kid after her therapy group," Randy explained, "See, I-"
"Randy, you know I don't care about the explanations." Sharon sighed, sick of how her ex-husband hung around her so much, it was as if he still wanted to be with her even though it was clear they should have nothing to do with each other. Sometimes she wondered if that was it. "Thanks for taking her home. Did you have fun, Shelly?"
"No, therapy shucksh." she went straight to her room with barely a word, hoping to call her darling Amir. There was a loud honk.
"Sorry, dad wants us to get back to Jimbo's right away." Randy explained, "Look, can I see Stanley for just a moment? It's important." Sharon sighed, putting a hand on her face, shutting her blue eyes,
"All right, Randy, fine." Sharon's eyes opened again, "Go see Stan, he's in his room." she nodded in his direction. Randy nodded,
"Thanks Shar." He walked down the hallway and opened Stan's bedroom to see him trying to play Xbox, with a scowl on his face - he was not enjoying this at all. The game was total shit. Randy sighed, "Hey pal, can we have a little talk?" he asked nervously.
"Uh, sure, dad, what is it?" Stan put down the controller, glad to be done with that shitty game.
"Stan, look, I don't quite know how to put this..." Randy sighed deeply, "But lately it's occurred to me I'm not the person I used to be and well, I'm getting old, but I feel young inside. You understand, right? Stanley... I... I need your youth."
"...aw, what!?"
To Be Continued...
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