I was eagerly pouring over and studying my extensive collection of Playboy magazines when suddenly my hand-me-down cell phone began to ring. Glancing at the number the piece-of-shit was showing on its screen told me that it was my on-again-off-again best friend Eric Cartman.

Because Cartman, the-kid-who-was-so-evil-military-boot-camp-couldn't-help-and-only-made-him-worse, never bothered to call me before in the three years I've had this phone I was a little surprised. Confused, I greeted, "Hello?"

"I need you to come over." He stated gruffly, irritation in his voice. "Right now."

"Cartman," I protested, "'right now' I'm in the middle of something important, so I'm a little busy-"

"Now." He said firmly, hanging up.

Angrily, I shoved the already fragile device into my pocket and started my journey to his house, mumbling and grumbling the entire way.

Once I arrived I knocked on the door and waited for it to open. "Hello, Mrs. Cartman," I greeted pleasantly, "I'm here to see Cartman."

"Come in, come in!" She exclaimed, bustling me into the warm living room. "Eric's in his room. I just made chocolate-chip-and-blueberry pancakes- would you like some?"

I almost laugh out loud at the thought of having pancakes at 5 o' clock in the afternoon. Fortunately, I remembered my manners, politely declined (even though Mrs. Cartman's food is AWESOME), and made my way up the stairs to Cartman's room.

This time, when I arrived at the door, I didn't stop to knock, allowing myself the permission for entry.

"Ay!" He shouted, "what do you think you're doing barging into my room you poor piece of shit?"

Immediately, I knew something was wrong because his insult and his shouting were somewhat half-hearted. "What's up, dude?"

"Well, um, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually." My friend's eyes shifted around and I didn't miss a small, pinkish blush creeping around his notoriously chubby cheeks.

After a moment of silence I prompted, "well?" I surprised myself with how much I was anxious to know what he was talking about.

"Um, it's about… some… one…." He said the words as if they were made of thin ice- taking his careful time because one false move could plunge him into a dark and sudden death in an abyss of hopeless. I know- fairly poetic thoughts for one Kenny McCormick. Booyah! (Just kidding!)

"Okay…" was all I said, trying to make him tell me more. Now that I knew it was about someone I was teeming with unabashed curiosity. Did he hate this person? Did like them? I hoped against hope that he would say that it was me if he liked them- I've certainly been "as horny as a rabbit" around him, as Wendy and Bebe loved to tell me. "Do you like this person…?"

"Yeah…" he ventured. His face turned a vibrant and violent shade of crimson; I briefly wondered if his blood was tired of staying in that one place in his body.

"And…?" I asked impatiently, beginning to grow sick and tired of this childish game. OMG- I think I'm starting to become Kyle!

"And… it's-a-guy." He shoved his head into a pillow.

"Are you going to tell me who it is?" I asked angrily- I'm getting pretty pissed right now about all of this- I could be gazing at the lovely Miss September right now. At the same time, I did want to know what Cartman was hiding. His head nodded from its fluffy prison.

Several quiet moments passed before I really got fed up with not knowing if it was me that he liked. I decided to use some reverse psychology on him. "You asked me to come so if you're just going to lay there like a vegetable, then I'm out of here. I guess I'll see you lat-"

"It's Craig!" Well, that worked like a charm. He was the one who'd suddenly surrendered his darkest secret, yet I felt as though I had the fatal wound in my confidence.

"W-what?" I tried to make sense of what he had uttered.

I don't know exactly when it happened, but all I know is that I started to enjoy the feeling of dominance over him- in a different way than with the Jew, though. Now three years later- after I told to get his 'bitch-ass on the floor,' that is- the feelings have matured." He said shyly. Wait- shyly? I guessed he did have it bad after all. This was not good.

"Oh. Well, he told Token, who told Kyle, and Kyle told me of course, that he might have the same feelings for you as well- you may want to look into that and take a chance." I stated, trying to hard not to ruin his good mood and choke.

"Great idea, Kenny!" He leaped off the bed and bounded for the door, stopping in the doorway. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for!" With he danced away, leaving me alone in his room.

As I began to dial the number of the friend I could talk to about anything, the sorrow I'd been trying to keep inside bubbled up and spilled over.

I heard the line pick up on the other side and then the greeting that followed soon after. "Kenny? What's up, dude?"

"Stan? Can you meet me at the park? It's about Cartman."