Notes: I have no idea why I'm making these weird recurring South Park jokes because wtf I don't even like South Park very much. But I always thought that Sam probably would, and I like to think if he and Diane ever actually managed to get married that one day he'd let their kids watch it and she'd find out and get SO MAD and he'd be like "omg get over it girlfriend, IT'S A CARTOON! U SO UPTIGHT" and they'd get in a stupid screaming argument over it and then forget what they were fighting about and have awesome makeup sex. Oh my god why didn't they just get married?! Anyway…

Neil – also known as Stan, Fake Sam, and Buttercup (the latter was used mostly by his mother) – was starting to find this all a little suspicious. Who was this cocky professor and why did he think he was somehow entitled to move in? He claimed to be a friend of Diane's – well, so what? This wasn't Diane's house! He really should have dumped her ass at Tito's when he had the chance, but, he reasoned, perhaps this Sumner character could explain some of the weirdness. He'd determined that Marianne was her, Frederick was her friend Frasier, but who were Stan, Darla, and Ned? Neil had an inquisitive mind; if he was going to extract himself from this bizarre circumstance, he wanted to know the whole story.

They sat across from each other in the living room, drinking coffee that Neil had prepared – one of his greatest flaws was chronic politeness. "So," he began awkwardly. "How do you know Diane?"

"We were once engaged to be married," Sumner said. "And she was my teaching assistant, back in Boston."

Engaged to be married? Marianne and Stan got engaged in the play… Neil considered this. "Do you own a bar?" he asked.

"Oh, no," Sumner said. "But I own a barn, in my place upstate. And I'm thinking of owning a BART."

"BART?"

"Bay Area Rapid Transit. I was going to buy one of the trains and rig it up for an easy commute between my barn upstate and my residence in Boston."

"Are you a baseball player?"

"God no, but I'm undefeated in croquet."

Well! Perhaps Diane was more creative than he'd given her credit for – she'd changed "barn" to "bar" and "croquet" to "baseball." "Are you… you've read her play, right?"

Sumner nodded.

"Are you Stan?"

"Well…" Sumner sighed. "I was hoping we could tell you together, but then that had to happen…" He inclined his head towards the stairs, indicating the room where Diane was secluded. "I suppose I'll just tell you myself. Yes, Stan. I am Stan. Stan I am. Would you like green eggs and—"

"I'm really okay."

"Sorry, sometimes a poetic impulse seizes me. I just made that up off the top of my head. I'm quite brilliant."

"Right."

"Anyway, since Diane is so desperately and irreparably in love with me, I think your time with her may be coming to an end. I'm sorry to break the news."

"Oh…" Neil shrugged. "It's really okay."

A knock sounded at the door, jarring them both. Neil jumped to his feet. "I'll get that."

It turned out to be Patrice, the actress who played Marianne. She and Neil had gotten pretty close over the year, since Diane insisted on them having rehearsals every day for twelve hours straight. You got to know a person that way. He invited her in, and she followed him to the living room, carrying a tray of brownies.

"I just wanted to drop these off," she said, shrugging. "I had extras and thought they might help you sleep." She glanced at Sumner, her nose wrinkling as she tried to determine what could be said in the stranger's company. "Don't let Diane get into them," she murmured. "I put some, uh, Sour Diesel in the butter."

"Sour Diesel?" Sumner said excitedly. "You mean, like, fuel? Are you trying to poison someone?"

"Sort of," Patrice said. She paused. "Where's the nutcase?"

"Oh," Neil said, "she's upstairs. She's on her," he lowered his voice to a whisper, looking meaningfully at Sumner, "period."

"So what?" said Patrice.

"What do you mean, so what?"

"I mean, why does that matter? I'm on my period right now."

Neil felt a surge of terror swell in his heart. "WHAT?"

"I mean, it's not biblical times, you gu—"

"OUT, DEMONESS!" Sumner shrieked. Patrice looked between them.

"Fine," she said, sounding bored. "See you later, Neil."

Once she left, Neil stuck the brownies in the fridge and sank onto the couch, grateful to have survived that shocking encounter. "God," he said. "I have no idea what that whole period thing is about, and I really don't want to know."

"Preachin' to the choir," Sumner agreed. "I just don't trust anything that bleeds for seven days and doesn't die." He chuckled. "I just made that up."

"Isn't that from South Park?"

"No, I just made it up. South Park probably stole it from me."

"But…" Neil was cut off by another knock at the door. He felt a sinking in his stomach; Sumner looked equally disarmed.

"I'll get it," Sumner said finally. "You were so brave the last time."

Neil trailed after Sumner, watching from a distance. To his great relief, the knocker was not a woman at all, but a tall, hairy guy. Upon seeing Sumner, his mouth dropped open.

"Sumner?!"

"I'm sorry," Sumner said, "but I'm not interested in becoming a Mormon."

"I'm not—what are you doing here?"

"Ugh," Sumner groaned, stepping back from the door. "Come in if you insist. But please know that I'm very content with my choice in religion – I made it up, actually, it's a mixture of extremist evangelical Christianity, militant Jihadism, with some good old fashioned Satanist tenants at its foundation."

He stepped inside. A moment later the tall, hairy man spotted Neil, and glanced dopily between the two of them like a deer in the headlights. "Where's… Is Diane here?"

"She's upstairs…" Neil said uneasily. "Do you… how do you know her?"

"Uh, I guess I'm an old friend."

"Diane isn't friends with Mormons!" Sumner cried.

"I'm not a—" He cut himself off, turning to face Neil. "Who are you?"

"I guess I'm her boyfriend," he said. "Or I was. I don't really know what's going on."

The tall, hairy man seemed encouraged by this. "Right, okay. Someone told me… Um, you're an actor, right?"

Neil nodded.

"Has she been like… paying you to pretend to be, uh, someone else?"

"Yes," Sumner cut in. "She's been paying him to pretend to be me."

The tall, hairy man whirled to face Sumner. "You?!"

Sumner seemed unphased. "Yes, me. I have no idea how you've made Diane's acquaintance, since to my knowledge she does not cavort with Mormons, but perhaps it will put your weird little mind at ease to know that she's desperately in love with me. Stan here," he clapped Neil on the back, "was merely a replacement Sumner."

"Replacement… Stan…" The tall, hairy man grew rather red in the face, sputtering to himself as he tried to make sense of all this. "You?!" he managed finally. "She's not in love with you."

"Then why did she tell me so yesterday afternoon, Mr. Mormon?" Sumner said haughtily.

"She…" His voice remained steady, but Neil saw his shoulders droop. "She did not! There's no way." Sumner rolled his eyes, further inciting the tall, hairy man. "Where is she?" he demanded, grabbing Sumner by the shoulders. "I need to talk to her."

"She's upstairs," Sumner said, and the tall, hairy man released him, looking around for where the stairs might be. "But you can't see her. She needs to be left alone."

"Why?!"

"She's on her period," Neil whispered.

This seemed to unnerve the tall, hairy man, just a little. "Oh," he said, making a face. "I've gotta say, I have no idea how that works. I'm pretty spooked by it."

"Aren't we all?" Sumner said wistfully.

"Uh, we can take you around back," Neil suggested. He had a feeling that this tall, hairy guy was not really a Mormon, but some missing piece of the puzzle, and wanted to see how Diane would respond to his arrival. "We've been talking to her through the window."

"We really shouldn't disturb her with something so trite," Sumner began, but the tall, hairy man had already started looking for the back door. They followed him outside, where he picked up a stone and lobbed it in a smooth trajectory at the window.

It opened.

"Sorry to bother you, Diane," Sumner shouted up, "but this man wants to talk to you about Joseph Smith."

"Diane?" the man called. She appeared as a shadowy outline in the darkness, illuminated only by the lights in the room.

"Sam?!" she called back, sounding incredulous.

Sam? Neil thought. Wait a minute…

"Sam, what are you do—"

"What the hell is going on?" he interrupted her.

"I don't know!"

The tall, hairy man – Sam, apparently – scowled, seeming unsatisfied by this answer. He grabbed Sumner by the shoulder and rattled him back and forth a few times, still looking at Diane. "What's he doing here?"

"I told you," Sumner said shakily – not because he was insecure in what he was saying, but because he was recovering from being used as a kind of human maraca. "She's desperately in love with me."

"Diane?!" Sam shouted again. He seemed to be asking her to tell him that this wasn't true, but Neil could just barely make out her face, and saw she was watching them with a baffled, helpless expression.

"Um, right," she said. "I'm like, desperately in love with him."

"What the fuck!" Sam shouted, and began stomping back towards the house.

"Wait," she called. "Sam, don't…"

He turned – and for a split second it seemed to Neil that, as far as they were concerned, the rest of the world had vanished. "Diane," he said, more calmly now. "Can we talk?"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, but then Diane's eyes roved around the yard and she seemed to lose her nerve.

"Um," she said, "I'm pregnant, want to get married, and have been reading a lot of feminist zines about dismantling the patriarchy."

"Oh god," Sumner said, wincing. "Run, Mormon boy! Back to Utah, while you still have a chance!"

"Wait," Neil said, his forehead creasing. "You want to get married AND dismantle the patriarchy? How is that supposed to work?"

"OH," she yelled, "SHUT UP, FAKE SAM! WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING HERE?!"

"It's my HOUSE!"

"Oh, right."

"Diane," Sam said, "I really don't care about those things."

"You… you don't?"

At first he seemed a little unsure, but then he glanced Sumner and it seemed to strengthen his resolve. "No," he said firmly. "I came all this way to talk to you, and I'm gonna talk to you. Can I come upstairs?"

For a second she hesitated – but then glanced Sumner, which seemed to strengthen her resolve. "Yes," she said, her voice barely audible from such a distance.

Without looking at either Neil or Sumner, Sam walked back inside. Once the door had shut behind him, and the window above as well, Sumner shook his head. "I don't say many nice things about Mormons," he said to Neil, "but that one there is a braver man than us by far."