A/N: Okay, so it's been a long long long time since I have updated anything on FanFiction, but I played Stick of Truth this weekend and my muse returned. I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. It was going to be much longer, but I've decided to split it into two chapters. I am falling asleep and have to head to work early tomorrow, but I'll try to post something up later this week too while I have my South Park muse burning. Thank you for reading! Warning: Cursing and the usual South Park nonsense.
Wendy ran through the double doors of the school late and in shambles. Her appearance reflected her life. Her hair barely brushed back into a pony tail, her sweat pants that she had slept in the night before stuffed into her snow boots, and her sweater clinging to her like the snow had soaked it. She hadn't slept the night before, a nightmare or living hell, as she almost saw it as, kept replaying in her mind. She wore a Taco Bell hat filling extra-large sodas to the big fat lard in his Harvard Jacket, and no matter how much she filled it; he kept drinking and drinking and drinking, forever taunting her for her failure. She had woke up the morning in a sweat, her alarm clock stuck on snooze without her knowledge. A quick glance at the time had sent her bolting out of her home, misplacing her phone and jacket and leaving her to stomp through the wet snow without protect.
How had her life come to this? She had even missed her morning journalism club meeting.
A boy in an orange jacket came in behind her, fully content, even though he was an hour late past the first bell as well. She didn't even notice him until he said, "You look like shit."
Her eyes shot back to glare at Kenny. "I don't need this from you too. Why did you stand me up the other night?" she asked, or in other words, why did you decide to die that day, "No, I don't have time to hear it, I have to get to class." She shook her head, not even giving him a chance to talk, as she spoke in a complete panic, hurrying to her locker.
Kenny's eyes widened for a moment like he had just come across a talking hurricane. "I came from hell, and I still know how to put on a shirt," he sighed as she ran off, seeing the tag on her sweater that she was wearing inside out. He really didn't want to be at school right now. He never could quite tell time in hell in comparison, so when he asked Satan to send him back up, he had thought it would be Saturday, or even Friday, not Thursday. Ugh. He almost didn't get out of bed that morning, but his drunk ass mother dumped a bucket of ice on him and told him to take out the ash trays before he left. There was no 'Hey, welcome back to life. We missed you.' They don't even have funerals anymore, just dump his body into some toxic waste dripping from the sewer. It seemed at times the only place he could get a home cook meal was from Satan or from Cartman's mom, if Cartman didn't scarf down all the food. He frowned. He needed that magazine. It was all he could think about as Satan had gone on a rant about Stalin & Mao who had supposedly started fighting over him. Kenny had given up explaining to Satan that the only reason these men were interested in him was for his power. He would listen silently before muttering his line about 'You deserve better.' It would be ignored, but the giant red man would always give him a big hug, tell him about the big black dildo that he planned to pass down to him when he was older, and then send him back.
He ventured down the hallway, his eyes catching site of a big ass in a tight short dress that definitely had no place in the winter time, but Kenny's mouth dropped, drool almost slipping from his lips.
He wiped his mouth and came up right behind Bebe. "Yo, how you doing?" he said, leaning against the locker and crossing his arms over his chest like a stud.
He could see Bebe glance in the mirror she was primping herself in, her brows furrowed in disgust. "Ew, no," she stated, shutting the locker door and walked away from him. His eyes glued on her form with each sway of her hip. Kenny could care less about relationships, but there were some girls in his class he just wanted to fuck, and that girl was one of them. Maybe he could get a blowjob behind TGIF from her and possibly a free dinner.
Stan walked out of the bathroom, his face distraught. Kenny's eyes stuck on the blonde woman walking away before he caught sight of his friend. Kenny could catch him sucking back some emotions. The boy could be such a girl sometimes, surprising for a the Quarterback of the South Park Cows. He supposed that's why he always hung out more with Cartman than Kyle and Stan. The two of them came with a lot of baggage, and if he were honest, he tended to drown them out with his own thoughts. It wasn't like they listened to him that often.
"Hey Kenny," Stan said softly, pulling his hat lower on his head, almost like he was hiding from something.
"Dude, you look like you need a good fuck or at least some time with your hand," he commented, pushing himself off the locker. The boy looked absolutely destroyed, and while he didn't understand the whirlwind of emotions that seemed to be plaguing his buddy, he did have a tinge bit of needing to get him out of his funk.
Stan rolled his eyes, "Masturbation can't solve everything."
"To each their own, but if you don't want to use your hand, I'm sure we can find Mr. Hat. Garrison's still teaching 4th Grade, but I bet it's stuck up Mr. Slave's ass," he started mumbling as his thoughts went somewhere disgusting before he could even stop himself.
"Dude, that's gross," Stan said with a disgusted face before he sighed and ran his hand over his features, "It's just….it's just…"
"Wendy. Yeah, suspected that," Kenny was getting bored again and the thought of his hardcore Asian kink possibly sitting in the trash can made him antsy. "You should dump her."
"What? No! Are you serious?" Stan actually said in surprised, though Kenny couldn't figure out why he was surprised. Wendy made Stan feel like shit, so he thought it was the simple answer. Kenny always liked simple answers. Life was simple after all. You live. You die. You live again.
"Why not? You're dating out of convenience, but I don't really care," he shrugged his shoulder, "Gotta go find something. Talk to you later." He wandered off the Janitor's closet leaving Stan in the hallway who appeared as if he had just been turned into a statue by Medusa.
Wendy had stumbled into class in a hurry, almost tripping. She wandered over to her seat next to Bebe though the blond girl wasn't there. She suspected she was doing her morning make up. Bebe parents were still fairly strict on dress code and make up, so Bebe often brought a change of clothes to school, changing and getting ready during first period.
At least no one had taunted her when she had come into class and the teacher had just continued as if he was far too tired to comment on her tardiness. On that thought, where was Cartman?
The incident that had occurred with his body after their little tuffle in the snow had been uncomfortable and awkward. Luckily, Butters had a talent of killing his mood in a matter of seconds. The boy could make anyone feel like a pedophile when the topic of conversation ever turned to sex, but when he had gotten home that night, his mind kept returning to it. Her hips underneath his, struggling and rubbing against him. He swallowed thickly in annoyance. Stupid ho. He wouldn't be distracted by something so tedious. He left that stuff up to Kenny.
Cartman had decided then and there that he would have to move to the next part of his plan, which is why he found himself in the computer lab during first period.
Wendy wanted to keep her rejection a secret, pretend that it never happened, and if Cartman was a kinder soul, maybe he would have allowed her little façade to continue on, but hey, he wasn't. He logged into Heidi's Facebook account.
"Eric, are you sure about this?" Butter's stuttered behind him, pressing his fist together in that weird way he did when got nervous, "Isn't it invading privacy?"
Cartman sighed and typed in Annie's name into the search bar. "Butters, do you learn anything in school? Ya know the NSA is tapping and listening to everything we do and say at any given moment of the day. I hardly think typing in one little password that she left out in her notebook counts as an invasion of privacy," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Annie Nelson's Facebook Page came up. Her profile picture was of her and Heidi slightly drunk at a concert with Kanye West in a fish costume on stage. Girls could be so careless. Cartman had pictures, but he knew better then to ever keep a picture around that could be used against him, like pictures of him drunk, high, or flipping someone off. His profile picture was of him in a slimming blue suit and a bright American Flag behind him. Professional. Kyle would say to his face that the reason he didn't have a real picture up was because he didn't want to face the fact that he was a fat fuck, but what did Kyle know. Kyle was a dumb ass jealous jew.
"Oh, if you say so Eric," Butters glanced nervously behind them.
Cartman typed a message out to Annie.
Did you hear? Wendy didn't get into Harvard.
It was simple and sweet. He smirked, knowing how big mouth Heidi and Annie were he suspected this would be around the school in a matter of minutes. Try to hide from this Wendy Testaburger.
He clicked send.
