Hey, guys. Sorry it's been a while. Just the usual writer's block and insecurity. I'm going to try and make the chapters... well, better, I guess. You don't know how many drafts this one went through before I could make Cartman somewhat believable. I love Wendy, though. And Butters.

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.

Ch. 8: Assholes and Weirdos

"Hi, Margie," Wendy said, as she entered their dressing room. Margie turned away, embarrassed, and pulled on her dance pants.

"Hey."

"You know, we're both girls. I don't think you have anything I haven't seen before." Margie blushed.

"Well, I guess so. When did you schedule your p-practice?"

"Actually, I have one later today. You?"

"Oh, um. My first one's not until Monday." Then Margie's phone rang. "Um, I gotta get this." Wendy nodded.

"I need to talk to Bebe anyway. See you later!" And, with that, Wendy walked out the door.

She got about halfway to Bebe's changing room when she heard an irritatingly familiar voice call her name. She clenched her teeth and ignored him.

"Ay! Bitch!" He ran – well, waddled – up to her. "Don't ignore me." He grabbed her arm. She rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

"What do you want?"

"Well, if you had actually listened to me when I tried to talk to you, maybe I'd tell you." Wendy pulled her arm from him and walked away. "Where are you going?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to talk to Bebe."

"Why? What possibly could have happened between yesterday afternoon and today that you need to talk about?"

"You don't need anything to talk about."

"I don't get it."

"Goodbye, Cartman." She then began to walk away.

"Women," she heard him mutter, and she immediately stopped.

"What do you mean by that?" she said, in an icy tone that could only mean that a trip to the Sun was in order.

"What?" Wendy narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, see you later, ho."

"I am not a ho!" He laughed as he walked away. Wendy, of course, stormed off to Bebe's room, slamming the door as she entered.

"He is such an ass!"

"Who?" asked Heidi

"Well, I don't know. Who's the only guy here?"

"No need to be sarcastic," said Bebe. "So, what did he do this time?"

"Just being his stupid fucking self. First he starts yelling at me for no reason. Then he demands an explanation for me coming to see you. Then he called me a ho, as usual." She sighed. "He's such an ass." Bebe smirked. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Maybe you're overreacting a little," Heidi said, gently. Wendy shrugged.

"Whatever. Let's talk about something else."

"How's that girl? The homeschooler?" Bebe asked.

"Margie? She's all right. Nice, but kind of weird."

"Maybe she should come hang out with us after Mass," Heidi said. "Is she Catholic?"

"I dunno. Her parents are really weird, apparently. I'll have to ask."

"We'd better get on stage," Bebe said, looking at the wall clock. Wendy looked up and nodded.

"Go ahead." Bebe waved and left. Wendy brushed her hair into a ponytail. Ugh. I hate Cartman. Why does he get to me like that? Maybe it was because there had been that brief period in fourth grade where she'd liked him... Wendy tried to repress all memories of that dark time, although, considering that she had been teased about it until junior high, it was hard. Or maybe he's just a sexist jerk. In many ways, she preferred that explanation.


Butters had just hung up on his mother (apparently he had left his athletic supporter at home. It had taken him a while to convince her not to drive out the field and drop it off for him) when someone knocked on the door. He cleared his throat and opened it to see Wendy.

"We'd probably better go to the stage."

"Oh," he said, in his normal voice. He cleared his throat and, in falsetto, said, "Sure." He coughed again, when Wendy stared.

"All right." Wendy looked down. "Um. Listen. Some of the girls and I are going to go out on Sunday. Would you like to come with us?"

"Um... gosh, I dunno if my parents would let me."

"Oh. You're Catholic, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Well, if you can, can we meet after Mass? Then we'll go to the mall."

"All right." Butters smiled. "Can I call you if I can make it?"

"Sure. I'll write it down for you after rehearsal." Wendy smiled back. "We'd better go before Al gets here."

"O-OK." Jeez. What am I going to tell my parents?


"Um, Mom and Dad?" Mr. Stotch looked up from his newspaper, and Mrs. Stotch her book.

"Yes, Butters?" his father asked.

"Uh... some of the guys on the team are having a p-pizza party."

"Really?" said Mrs. Stotch. "Do you want us to drop you off?"

"No!" He laughed. "No, thanks. I can get a ride. We're just going to, um, Todd's house."

"Oh. Who's Todd?"

"He lives in North Park. I'll walk to someone's house, and then they can drive me."

"Honey, wouldn't it be easier if I just drove you?"

"Mom, I don't want you to have to drive me all the way to North Park. It'll be easier if I just go."

"Butters..."

"Mom!"

"Butters, listen to your mother, or you'll be grounded." Butters sighed.

"OK, Mom." He then went upstairs and slammed the door to his bedroom. Oh, heck. How am I going to get out of this one? He took his wig out of his backpack and put it in his closet. I need a plan. He looked in his mirror and sighed. Cunning had never exactly been his strong point. How long had his Professor Chaos thing lasted, exactly? This whole sneaking around thing is harder than I thought it would be.