A.N: yell at me all you want, I deserve it. I'm back in business and I mean it this time.
Chapter eight: What Now?
I stood instantly, pacing the perimeter of my room with great intensity. I never thought my feet could be on fire! Okay Stanley boy, let's recap on what just went down. Your mother, sweet sweet mother, is paralyzed in the state of you being an innocent young boy hitting puberty. If only it could just be that. What's more, you remember those caring warm eyes that you were nearly crying on her shoulder confessing of how much of a dirty dirty freak freak boy you are. Hehe..yes I'm a dirty boy..please clean me. No, no I'm better than that! Focus on other things..maybe the soft thumps of my parents' footsteps downstairs and their voices. I could imagine my father's mortified face at the 'knowledge' of his son's growth. What if I can't handle it? What will I do?
Just like that a ray of hope shined through my window. It cast a light that could penetrate my worried soul with comfort. Approaching and glancing outside, I spotted the neighborhood children playing and the birds chirping. The sky was as blue as it ever had been. I bet if I cracked the window I'd receive a nice breeze across my goose-bumped skin. It's so simple, I can runaway! A flawless plan. Hell I'll mimic Huckleberry Finn, reading is fundamental. I'll fake my own death. I might even force Token to travel with me for good measure. I'll be around no one who'd judge me, no one to discover my horrid problem(wait it's not a problem..it's part of me, is all). Best thing about running away I won't have to face my father's rage, his disappointment. I'll be a hobo, an attractive homeless boy!
I know it must seem I'm overreacting, being dramatic. Golly how you are wrong. Let me tell you about my father Randy Marsh. This is a man who still wears race car boxers, owns many obsessions, takes things very seriously, and is stubborn. I'm telling you the man is unyielding, but I'm not implying I don't admire him. I worship him actually even when he gets annoying. He parties too hard, drinks too hard, does anything to win-and he's still my dad I love. He only does what's best for me and considers me well, I can't say that for all the parents in South Park. Then why am I running away from such a good thing..oh yeah. He'll kick my ass.
My father is masculine to say the least, an understatement. Every time I participate in a sport you know who's the most enthusiastic about it? My dad. He's always standing on the bleachers somewhere-his butt never touches the seat-yelling down at me to play my hardest. Encouraging? Yes if it didn't involve profanity, his voice slurring from beer, and eventually a fight. Besides his inspiring cheers and shouts are violent, even the players are afraid at moments. I could only fancy what he would do if he sees through my act and in truth, understands that I'm masochistic. His only son is a pansy who prefers to be the 'bottom man' instead of topping! I'm the freaking girl in the relationship!
"I'm sorry daddy, I'm not strong! Please forgive me I'll do better!". I went on my knees removing my shirt, holding my hands in a prayer to no one in particular. I tossed the item off, "whip me and show me better! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
The door clicked. The ray of hope that once graced my floor was shadowed over by the height of a man, my dad. It was like all the birds ceased their singing and the sky darkened, the children seeking safety in their houses. I had no where to hide here knelt, shirtless and begging like a peasant. My wavering blue pools of eyes slithered their way up his stature. He returned with his brown orbs which were unmoving. It was a stand still, a match of wits! On the count of 3 we'll hold up out guns and shoot! It's inevitable that I will be the one going down, no siree my pops will be the one to succeed triumph.
I gulped and scrambled to my feet putting back on my shirt. He diverted his gaze rubbing the back of his head as he normally does in awkward situations; he cleared his throat. "Stan-"
"I CAN EXPLAIN!" I interrupted immediately. "It was hot, so very hot dad! I wanted to crack a window but you know how I hate bugs-so I took off my shirt! But then I dropped something-I dropped my pen and I-"
He grasped me by my shoulders and sat me gently on the bed. A silent signal of, shut the hell up. He pulled up a chair from my desk and ruffled my hair. "Let's forget about that right now and hunt down the task at hand, alright?" God I love him, I nodded. "Sharon tells me you've hit puberty?"
"Yes." I nodded firmly, calming down. Maybe he won't figure it out, just go along with it. My dad sniffled and brought me into a hug that I jolted into.
"I'm proud of you boy! From this point forward you will carry my balls with yours!" Wait what.."when I die I know they'll be a parade in my honor, but I want you to be the man of the house. For a second you had me scared, I thought Shelly would be the one taking up maintenance."
Haha, that does seem like an accurate guess for the future. "But dad, what If I'm not ready?"
"No. You will be." He said it with such positivity I might have believed it, his voice was stern. "You are a Marsh Stan, once you hit adulthood there's no going back. It's like dating black people your grandpa says. What I'm getting at is you have a lot of weight to carry on your back now. Sharon is hard to handle, trust me. You need to also learn to harden up against your sister. Sorry boy, but that's just embarrassing."
"I-I know it's embarrassing.." see? This disappointment written all across his face, I hate it! "I'll try better. It's just that well, these new thoughts inside my head make it difficult." Good Stan use the lie as an excuse.
"That's no excuse!" Damn. He gave me a firm look and shook his head. "Don't delve inside them and lose sight of what you need to do: beat the crap out of Shelly. Don't tell your mother we both know she'll disapprove, she's a woman she won't understand. When I'm free I can take you to the gym and we'll build that muscle that's already developing."
"That's all nice dad except I..I uhm.."
"Spit it out."
I cringed. I couldn't do anything but obey. "I can't wait." Dad brightened.
"Great!" I was awarded with a rough pat on the back. His eyes glanced at his wrist watch, "oo the game's coming back on. Hey Stan you should come watch."
"Yeah in a minute. I'm going to head into the shower." The water should help me mellow down. "I'll be there in a sec." He gave me another pat and left the room.
I sighed grabbing a change of clothing and went into the bathroom, tiptoeing quietly pass Shelly's room. After removing my articles and stepping into hot steam of the tub, I glanced down at myself. My body was an artwork of bruises and with a look at the mirror my face was no different. Dare I say it..but I was sort of proud of them..
"I know about it." Cartman sneered, having me cornered in the boy's room stall. His hefty body was pressed up against mines, the stench of chips still coated his breath. My heart pounded in hard beats which seemed to drum his stomach. "So what will it be Marshy boy, you joining in on my little plan or to be the next hot talk?"
