Just An Average Night At Willie's

This is it, the last chapter! For all those sadistic readers who've been enjoying Craig's humiliation so far (and I know you're out there) there's more to come! And the Dateless Table are in this chapter as well.

Thanks to all reviewers, BTW!

I don't own SP.

Chapter 7

OK, let's do a brief recap of my night so far, shall we? My date's a disaster, I've had to watch my ex-girlfriend living up to her nickname of 'The Vacuum', I've got a broken nose, nearly been strangled, been mind controlled by the Anti-Christ and now Wendy, a girl who I actually like and want to be with, is trying to patch things up with Stan. Wow, that's a pretty crappy night, even for me.

There's a mirrored wall right opposite me (Willie's attempt to be modern), and I can see my reflection quite clearly. All I gotta say is OUCH. The swelling around my eyes has gone down, but my poor nose is all crooked and bent out of place, and I've got blood all over my new (secondhand) blue hoodie top. Still, I can't help but smile. With my blond hair, broken nose and black eyes, I look like Owen Wilson in The Darjeeling Limited. I'd laugh if I didn't have a pounding headache.

What are Stan and Wendy up to? Ugh, still talking. I don't know what they're talking about because I can't hear them and Stan's got his back to me, so I can't see anything either. They're probably telling each other how stupid they were to break up, and how they can't stand to be apart from each other ever again, or something gay like that. I put my head down on the cool Formica table, trying to ease the pain in my head. I just want this night to be over. At least my nose has stopped bleeding now. That's one thing to be thankful for, I guess.

Suddenly, there's shouting from the back of the room. The Dateless Table, to be exact. They're having an argument about something – it seems to be Craig (yep, he's there), Token and Butters on one side, and Jimmy and Timmy on the other, with Tweek in the middle, being pressurised by both sides. Poor Tweek, he looks as though his head's about to explode.

"Gah! I don't know! Stop shouting at me!" he shrieks, before downing more coffee.

They quieten down after that, and I rest my head on the table again. I really, desperately want to go home. I want to go to bed, pull the duvet over my head and stay there for about a week. My mattress may be even harder than Kyle is, but suddenly it seems really inviting right now. Speaking of Kyle, there's a loud "Oh, YEAH" from his booth. Dirty boy.

Kyle's resting his head against the back of the booth, his eyes are shut and he's breathing faster than any human being I've ever seen. Just when I think he can't take any more he shouts: "OH JESUS!" and slumps forward onto the table, breathing deeply. About a minute after that, Bebe emerges from under the table and sits back in the booth, giggling. Kyle lifts his head up from the table, and I have to stifle a laugh. His face is almost as red as his hair, and his expression is that of someone who's not quite sure what's just happened. He sits there panting and staring at Bebe, utterly speechless.

"You have the rest, honey, I'm full," Bebe says, pushing the remainder of their pizza towards him. She giggles again. Oh Bebe, your parents must be so proud of you.

Clyde, who's been watching this the whole time, gets up and storms off into the toilets, without a word to poor Annie. Ah, unrequited love. Suddenly I know all about that.

A plate smashes at the back of the room. Seems its all going off on the Dateless Table at the moment. And guess who's behind it all? Yep, that's right. Take a bow, Craig Tucker. He's standing over Timmy, shouting and jabbing his finger into his face. Mind you, Timmy's giving as good as he's getting, shouting right back at him. I don't know how anyone could have an argument with Timmy, because all he can say is his own name, but somehow Craig's managing it. Asshole.

"Oh come on, Timmy, are you serious? The new Star Trek movie is way better than Wrath Of Khan!"

"Timmy!"

"Admit it! Wrath Of Khan sucks next to the new one!"

"TIMMY!"

Craig may be captain of the wrestling team, and, in his own eyes, God's gift to women, but there's still a nerd inside him kicking and screaming to get out.

"C-Calm down, fellas. It's really not imp-p-portant." Jimmy gets up and stands next to Timmy.

"Stay outta this. This is between me and him." Craig's getting really aggressive now; he's right in Timmy's face. This is getting really uncomfortable to watch, and there's general unease in the room now. There's a general feeling among all of us that you never pick on disabled people – unless your name is Eric Cartman.

"Please, step b-back, Craig. You're upsetting him."

Craig snorts with laughter. "What are you gonna do about it?"

There's silence as everybody leans forward in anticipation. Jimmy does nothing – he just stares at Craig, who shakes his head and grins…then has a sharp intake of breath as one of Jimmy's callipers connects firmly with his nuts. Craig crumples to the floor with his hands over his groin and groans loudly. I think every guy in the room, including me, has got their legs crossed now.

There's a lot of laughter and cheering as Craig writhes in pain, none more so than the girls he'd been annoying when me and Wendy arrived.

"Wow, what a fantastic audience," Jimmy says, grinning widely.

The five girls jump out of their booth and approach the Dateless Table. Tweek squeals when one of them smiles at him.

"Do you guys wanna go somewhere?" one of them, a tall girl with long dark hair, says.

"W-with you?" Butters asks nervously. Poor, sweet, naïve Butters.

"Yeah." The girls all giggle in unison, in that freaky way that girls do.

"Sure, we'd love too," Token answers for the group. "C'mon guys."

The boys get up, a protesting Tweek having to be hauled up by Token, and head for the door, Timmy making sure to run over Craig's foot as he moves away from the table. Cheers echo around the room as the once dateless group leave, although Tweek can clearly be heard above everything shouting:

"No! I can't go! I'll have to talk to them! That is way too much pressure!"

Finally, after a bit of shoving, Butters and Token manage to get Tweek out the door. I love a bit of natural justice, and the Dateless Table getting dates is definitely natural justice. Craig never even apologised for nearly strangling me (OK, I know it wasn't all him, but let me have this one) so he'll get no sympathy from me.

Now that they're gone, Willie's has quietened down again. I look over towards Wendy and Stan, to see what the score is, and…they're hugging. Brilliant. Definitely my cue to leave.

I exit Willie's, purposely turning my head away as I go past them. When I get outside, I take a couple of deep breaths and try to swallow the big lump in my throat that's suddenly formed. What the hell is wrong with me anyway? I should be saying: "Fuck Wendy," after what's happened to me tonight, but I just can't. I should dump her on her ass the next time she decides to use me to get at Stan, but I know I won't. Stupid fucking moron.

I fumble around in my pockets, looking for the pickup keys, and then I remember: she's got them. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

I sigh and head back into Willie's, half expecting to see to see Stan and Wendy snogging each others' faces off. But…no. Stan is sitting over with Kyle and Bebe, and actually looking quite upset. Wendy is still standing near the door, tears streaming down her face.

"I finished it," she says slowly, looking at the floor, "for good."

This throws me completely. "But I thought you were – "

"Getting back with him?" She shakes her head. "No. We seem to spend half our time breaking up, and the other half making up." Sounds like a good deal to me. "I can't do it any more." She looks over at him, and fresh tears begin falling. "Come on. Lets…lets go."

Just as we walk out the door, Craig leaves too, pain etched across his face. As he shuffles out the door, Annie pushes past him, shoving him into the door frame. She storms off down the street, a look of thunder on her face. I wouldn't wanna be Clyde on Monday morning. That's gonna be hella fun when he sees her at school. Meanwhile, Craig shuffles towards his car, one hand on his shoulder, and one over his groin. I would definitely laugh if Wendy wasn't so upset. I gently take the pickup keys out of her hand.

"I'll drive," I say, with a wry smile.

"It's OK," she says, wiping her eyes. "I'd rather walk home. Try and clear my head, you know?"

"OK, if you're sure." I start to turn away, then turn back. I can't leave it like this. "It'll get better, you know. And when it does, maybe, we could…" Oh, Jesus, what am I doing? "y'know, do this again, sometime?"

Wendy looks at me, shocked. "You'd go out with me again, after tonight?"

I shrug. "Meh. Can't be any worse, right?"

She giggles. "I guess not." She smiles at me, and I can feel myself smiling right back. There's a strange warmth right in the pit of my stomach, which is either indigestion or…oh, the hell with it. I think I love you, Wendy Testaburger. "You know what? I think I'd like that." She leans in and kisses me gently on the cheek. "Goodnight, Kenny." She turns and walks off down the street.

I try to call "Goodnight" after her, but the word gets stuck in my throat. All that comes out is: "Yeah."

I throw the keys up in the air and catch them joyfully. I get the urge to dance across the street, and am about to, when Clyde walks past me. I grin stupidly at him.

"Hey Clyde."

He glares at me, as if to say: what the hell are you so happy about, and pulls his car keys out of his pocket. He cries out in shock.

"What the fuck have you done to my car?"

I wander over to the middle of the road to join him. That fender bender that I had when trying to park the truck was a whole lot worse than I thought. My pickup has basically arse-raped Clyde's Buick – and it's not even like I can pretend the thing ain't mine.

"Listen, Clyde, I'm real sorry about – "

"LOOK OUT!"

I turn just in time to see a truck, clearly out of control, heading right for me and Clyde. He jumps to safety, but I don't have any time. Shit. I just crouch and brace myself for the impact. Next thing I know, I'm flying through the air, my body almost numb. As long as I land somewhere soft I should be…

But when does that ever happen for me, huh? Instead of somewhere soft, I land on top of an unused flagpole, which automatically pierces me straight through my abdomen. I slide down to half-mast, leaving a couple of my vital organs at the top. But you know what? I don't care. My dying brain is full of Wendy, and I feel incredibly happy, despite the pain. Just before I shuffle off this mortal coil – for a while, anyway – I hear Clyde cry out below me:

"Oh Jesus no! Now who's going to move that goddamn truck?"

Ah, yeah. Just another average night at Willie's.

Well, that's it! I hope you enjoyed, and please review. Thank you!