"I can't – I can't believe she fucking did that to you!" Clyde slurred drunkenly. He swayed in his seat, milkshake clutched tightly in his hand. Somehow, eating ice cream while watching zombie movies had turned into...
Well, mixing whiskey into milkshakes and listening to really, really crappy rap music as loud as possible. A carton of ice cream and a bottle of whiskey later, they were sprawled across the floor.
Eric wasn't like Stan. He didn't turn into a stupid drunk. He was a mean drunk. Especially when in a bad mood before getting drunk. Clyde was lucky that he hadn't pissed the slighter larger boy off yet. That temper was just waiting to snap.
"Yeah I know she's a – she's a whore." Eric agreed, nodding his head in an over exaggerated manner. He drank often with the guys, but it'd been a while seeing as Stan's panties being in a bunch had more or less expelled him from the group.
It was why he was so willing to go home with Clyde. He didn't need his friends, but it was cool to have another dude to chill with. As much as he loved Wendy, spending all of his time with her kind of sucked. He missed chilling with the guys and smoking an occasional joint.
"Y-you know, you'd think tha' hippie bitch'd be like, 'Hey you. You fucker, you, let's go like, smoke a bong, cause I'm a...I'm a hippie bitch and I like to...to fuckin'...do shit like that!'" He exclaimed, twisting sharply to look at Clyde.
He fully fell off the couch, landing on his side. His head hit the table but he simply laughed. Didn't feel it now, but he'd be feeling it tomorrow. Of that, he was sure.
"You know, we sh-should go to her house and be like, 'hey bitch! You, hippie bitch! Don't you fucking...fucking cheat on Cartman! You...bitch!'" Clyde shouted angrily, milkshake going up in the air like a torch.
Unfortunately, it came down like a milkshake. All over his shirt. He just laughed, and tugged it off.
"That's a...that's a good idea." Eric nodded, stumbling to his feet. He watched as Clyde got to his. He flicked his eyes over the back of the boys neck, confused at the little splotch of darker skin he saw. With a shrug, he didn't question anymore.
He was too drunk to care if Clyde had some weird kinda skin disease. Fuck, he was too drunk to care if it was contagious.