Chapter 10: Blond/e
"Switch."
Part 2 of 2: "Skeleton"
"Hm?" Kenny hummed, the straw of his blueberry slurpee slipping out of his mouth.
Karen held out her cherry slurpee and repeated herself. "Switch."
Kenny sighed and exchanged cups with his sister. "They let you mix flavors, y'know."
"I don't like the way they taste mixed together. We've been through this."
Sighing again, Kenny started to drink the slurpee his sister had handed him. His car sat in the parking lot of the 7-11 a few miles from their parents' house, parked under the tall neon sign that served as the only light in the dark night sky. The radio played softly as the two McCormicks passed their slurpees back and forth in silence, speaking only to comment on the occasional car turning onto the ramp leading to the Colorado Interstate across from the lot.
"Denver?" Kenny asked as a blue Hyundai made its way up the ramp.
His sister shook her head wisely. "Boulder." She went back to sipping her slurpee before adding a quiet "Obviously..."
Kenny buckled his seatbelt. "I should have known."
By the time Kenny's car pulled up in front of their parents' house, the two had finished their slurpees. Shifting into park, Kenny looked at the dim yellow lights in the window of his old home. "You want me to come in with you?"
"Nah, I think I'm good. Thanks for tonight though; and thanks for the t-shirt! If you find the one with the squiggly lines on it you have to give me that one too."
"I can't believe you're dating one of the goth kids," Kenny groaned as she got out of the car and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "You know how I feel about the goth kids."
"Oh my god, I told you, I am not dating Firkle; and I'm not hiding some kind of secret relationship..." Karen's eyes narrowed. "Unlike you."
Kenny scoffed. "Oh, unlike me? Please, tell me, with whom am I supposedly having this torrid affair."
Karen gave him another look that told him the answer should have been obvious.
"Craig Tucker."
"That fucking asshole."
"Oh will you relax, he was just joking. I mean, probably."
"Tell me what he said again," Wendy fumed at Bebe from across their table at Tweak Bros. "Tell me exactly what he said."
Bebe sighed and rolled her eyes. "I told you, I hung out with Kenny last night and I mentioned I was sorry that I didn't get to spend time with both of you together before I head back to school tomorrow. Y'know, since the two of you are 'friends' now?"
"I know you put scare quotes around friends, bitch."
Ignoring Wendy's interruption, Bebe continued. "Then he said that it was probably for the best that we didn't hang out together, since, and here I'm just using regular quotes, 'we'd most likely end up having a threesome, or something.'"
"Godddddd," Wendy almost slammed her head against the table. Instead she just picked up the mug of earl grey that Tweek had almost spilled on her a few minutes ago and took a long slow sip. "Why. Why is he like this."
Bebe shrugged. "I mean, I dunno, I can think of worse arrangements. Actually, you two would probably be my first picks for that kinda scenario, now that I think about it."
"Why was I so surprised when I found out you two were friends."
"Hindsight's 20/20, I guess."
Wendy didn't want to tell Bebe, but she'd actually spent most of her friend's winter break actively avoiding any kind of situation that might put the three of them in a room together – and not because she was afraid of a menage a troix. What really made her nervous was not being sure if she and Kenny could turn off the consistent flirting that had practically become a cornerstone of Wendy's friendship with him. Sure, they may have been sticking to the rule they'd established on thanksgiving, but the lack of an occasional fuck had resulted in a sexual tension between the two so fierce that Wendy was sure her friend would be able to tell something was up. And she definitely didn't need Bebe getting any more ideas than she seemed to already have.
"Well, I'm sure the three of us will find something to do together this summer. That isn't a threesome, I mean. And hey, I might be closer to getting back to NYU by then, so maybe I won't be such a drag to be around."
"Oh shut up," Bebe smiled at her. "You don't need NYU, you know."
"You don't think so?" Wendy joked with her.
"Naaaaah..." Bebe's smile turned into a smirk as she studied Wendy for a moment. "I'm sorry, I seriously cannot believe you're wearing that thing again."
"What!" Wendy exclaimed as she reached up to clutch the pink beret sitting on top of her head defensively. "C'mon, this thing is great."
"I thought you decided that wearing a beret was 'pretentious' in junior year?"
"Yeah, well, I figure if I have to be a big fish in a small pond, I can afford myself the occasional pretension."
Bebe looked at her skeptically.
"Look, don't make fun of me, okay? It feels cool to be wearing it again. I mean, this is some classic Wendy Testaburger shit right here, y'know?"
"I'm just sayin', there's only one other kid I know who's been wearing the same hat since he was a little kid."
"Kenny's parka isn't a hat," Wendy glared at her preemptively.
"I wasn't going to say Kenny."
"Well who were you going to say."
"Craig Tucker."
Craig Tucker reached up to adjust his hat. The metal chain attaching the handcuff around his wrist to the briefcase in his lap jangled as he moved his hand. Sitting beside him, Kenny drummed nervously on the steering wheel of his car, which was currently parked on a ledge overlooking Stark's Pond. He stared out the windshield at the moonlight reflecting off of the water as the two boys sat patiently in silence.
"I hate these bulk drops," Kenny murmured, checking his car's rearview mirror. "I don't care how well they pay, they're always weird." He looked over at Craig. "Don't let me agree to one of these again."
"I told you not to do this one to begin with."
"Well be more insistent next time. Why did you chain that thing around your wrist."
"I thought it'd look cool."
"Well," Kenny turned away from him, annoyed. "It does," he admitted begrudgingly.
Neither of them said anything else for several moments. Finally, Craig broke the silence.
"So did you fuck Bebe while she was home on break."
"Dude, what? No. Bebe and I haven't slept together in like, years. Honestly it'd probably be kinda weird at this point."
"Because you're fucking Wendy."
"Oh my god, I am not fucking Wendy! That was one time, and it was Halloween, so it like, barely counts."
"The only time you've fucked Wendy was on Halloween," Craig stated skeptically.
"I'm still not sure how you even figured that out."
"I saw both of you the next day. It was obvious."
"Oh shut up."
"I wasn't surprised either.
"Shut up, Craig."
"You two give off pheromones when you're around each other."
"Shut up, Craig!"
"Anyone would be able to tell. Has Bebe hung out with both of you at once."
Kenny shifted in his seat, thoroughly irritated. "She wanted to, but it never happened. I told her that it was probably for the best since we'd all probably end up having a threesome or something."
"Now you're speaking my language," Craig deadpanned as the inside of Kenny's car lit up. The two turned around to see another vehicle killing its headlights just as it pulled up behind them. Sparing each other a quick glance, the two boys opened their doors and climbed out of Kenny's car, to find the occupants of the other vehicle emerging as well.
"What's happ'nin'," the driver greeted cooly as his door shut behind him. The man was tall and lanky, dressed in a heavy military jacket and skinny jeans. He had long dreadlocks, pulled tight into a bun behind his head, and his eyes were obscured by a pair of rose-tinted sunglasses, lenses as round as John Lennon's. Despite the layer of snow on the ground, he wore nothing on his feet but a pair of expensive looking flip flops. As he approached, Kenny saw that he was flanked by two other dealers, both dressed just as flamboyantly. They looked like a rap trio.
"What's up," Kenny nodded, trying to seem just as cool. "You guys wanna make this quick?"
"Yeah... yeah..." the one who'd been driving the car replied, looking around and surveying the surrounding area. He licked his lips. "We just gotta take care of something real quick then we'll be right with you."
"Uh, oka-"
"Yo," the trio's leader turned to one of the other dealers and snapped his fingers. "Get that dumbass out here, man."
Kenny and Craig watched in horror as one of the other two dealers walked behind the car, popped open the trunk, and pulled out a naked man bound with ropes. A bandana had been shoved into his mouth, muffling his cries as the dealer dropped his body to the ground and dragged him towards the group through the snow. Kenny and Craig tried to remain as composed as possible as they shared terrified glances.
Looking down at the man on the ground, the group's leader released a sigh of profound disappointment.
"What did I tell your boys," he asked.
Wild eyed, his prisoner looked up and tried to scream something through his gag. It sounded like he was begging for his life.
The head dealer just sighed again. "I tooooold your boys not to play me. But what did they try and do?"
The man on the ground continued to yell and writhe around, trying to free himself from the ropes. The leader gave another nod towards the other dealers, sending one of them to go get something from the car.
Kenny and Craig stood in silence.
"They tried to play me, son. I told 'em not to play me, but they tried to play me. And I hate. when people try to play me."
The dealer who'd left for the car returned carrying what looked like two heavy weights. As he approached, the man on the ground's eyes widened and he began writhing around even harder than before, his body shaking with desperation. Kenny and Craig turned their heads to look at each other, horrified expressions on both of their faces. The man's screams turned to sobs as two of the dealers began tying the weights around his legs.
The group's leader rubbed his hands together as his men picked up the prisoner by his arms and legs. Ignoring his cries, they carried him over to the edge of the cliff overlooking Stark's Pond, before unceremoniously dropping the man over the side. Kenny and Craig heard one long final muffled scream, and a splash.
As the dealers walked back towards them, the leader turned to Kenny and Craig. "My apologies, gentlemen. Now. How 'bout you let us see that product."
The boys stood in shock. Without taking his eyes off the drug dealers, Craig whispered over to Kenny.
"Give me the key to the handcuffs."
Kenny's stomach may as well have dropped out of his ass. "You mean you? don't? have it?"
Craig fucking Tucker.
Wendy sat in her car, looking at herself in the rearview mirror and fuming. With a huff, she tore the pink beret off her head and threw it into the backseat of her car. After studying herself in the mirror for another moment, she reached back and grabbed it, putting it back on her head and straightening it out. Fuck Craig Tucker, her beret was cool. And she was way better at selling drugs than that kid.
Speaking of which.
Wendy emerged from her car and into the chill of Middle Park's night air, the snow on the ground crunching beneath her Doc Martens. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she pulled out her phone to make sure she'd gotten the right address and began making her way towards the house hosting the first MPCC party of the winter semester. It had been nice to take a few weeks off to hang out with her old friends while they were in town for break, but it was time to get back to business.
Wendy walked into the party only to be assaulted by a harsh blast of feedback and crashing drums coming from the living room. Turning the corner, she peaked in to see what was going on.
"I'M DEAD I'M DEAD I'M DEAD I'M DEAD I'M DEAD!"
Oh great, the goth kids were playing Middle Park parties now.
Wendy made her way towards the kitchen. "Who's ready to get liiiiiiittt," she sang dryly as she entered the room. Looking around, she spotted one of the party's hosts trying to flirt with some girl in the corner. "Yo, Tyler," she called over to him. "Can I use your bathroom?"
"Word," he called back without turning around.
"Word," she repeated, leaving the kitchen and heading for the stairs.
As per usual, it only took Wendy about an hour to sell through the majority of the weed she'd brought to the party. After it was gone, she packed some of what was left into what she intended to be the last bowl of the night. Taking the first hit for herself, she passed her bong to the couple of kids who'd stuck around to shoot the shit and hotbox the bathroom with her.
"I still can't get over the silicone thing," Sarah giggled as she took hold of the Future is Here, Now, Boys. "It's like we're smoking out of a dildo."
"Does your dildo glow in the dark too?" Josh teased her.
"Does yours?" Wendy asked him, butting in from her seat inside the bathtub.
"It's really funny that you always sit in the bathtub," Brennan tried to flirt with her as Sarah passed him the bong.
"What can I say," Wendy replied without looking at him. "I'm a character."
"You totally are, though," Sara interjected, her red eyes wide and glazed over. "I mean, think about it. A girl with an undercut and a rubber bong who goes around community college parties selling weed. Wendy... how are you a real person... how do you exist..."
Wendy turned to the group, her expression gravely serious. "Maybe... I don't."
"Whooooaaaaaa," the rest of the stoners all said at the same time.
"Holy shit," an unimpressed voice deadpanned from the bathroom doorway. "Is this what passes for existential drug conversations in Middle Park."
Wendy turned to see the goth kids standing in the doorway. "Oh hooray, the joy division has arrived."
"Good one," Michael sneered as the goth kids made their way into the bathroom. Wendy's customers took this as their cue to leave, quietly exiting the bathroom, as if simply being in the goths' presence would be enough to drain their very souls from their bodies.
Wendy remained seated in the tub. "So what's up. If you're looking for Stan I haven't talked to him in like, a year."
"Ugh, like we'd even let that fucking conformist hang out with us anymore," Pete flipped his hair. "We're just trying to get stoned."
"Yeah," Henrietta added. "Obviously we weren't expecting the girl everyone said was selling would be... you... but... here you are."
"In all my glory," Wendy deadpanned as she lit herself another bong hit. "Lucky for you I've still got some left," she exhaled. Looking around the bathroom, she noticed that one of the goths was missing. "Where's the little one."
"Don't call me that," Firkle told her as he entered the bathroom. With him was a freckled girl with strawberry blonde hair who looked to be around his age, dressed in an oversized Misfits t-shirt.
"Oh shit, you guys have normal friends?"
"You're not funny," Michael told her. "Can we hit that?" he asked, pointing to the bong still in Wendy's hands.
"Yeah but you gotta buy."
"Cool," the tallest goth replied as he took the bong. He took a hit and passed it to Henrietta. "Firkle will pay you."
"What the fuck, why me?"
"Cause I'm not paying for you AND your girlfriend to get stoned."
"She's not my girlfriend."
"Hey, uh, I don't need to smoke!" she chimed in.
"Wait, I thought you guys were like straight edge?" Wendy asked.
"Oh my god, we're goths. You're talking about hardcore kids."
"Whatever." Wendy nodded towards the girl as Pete passed her the bong. "Don't worry about these Edgar Allen Assholes, you can smoke all you want."
The girl clutched the bong in her hands like a foreign object. "I dunno," she laughed nervously. "I've actually never smoked weed before."
"Oh, dude, it's totally okay," Wendy assured her. "Like six months ago neither had I but now I'm like, the Michael Phelps of smoking weed."
The girl laughed. "I hate to break it to you, but I think Michael Phelps is already the Michael Phelps of smoking weed."
"Ha." Wendy laughed expressionlessly. "You're funny." She turned towards Firkle. "She's funny," she repeated in the same dry tone. "Where'd you find her."
"She goes to school with Firkle," Henrietta answered before turning to the youngest goth's friend. "Wendy's a South Park High alum."
"I think you might've went to school with my brother?" the girl told Wendy.
"Kid, I went to school with a lotta people's brothers. You should totally hit that bong, though."
The girl flicked Wendy's lighter a few times before getting it to stay lit. "Like this?" she asked as she brought the bong to her mouth, mimicking the motions she'd seen the goths make a few moments earlier. Inhaling, she drew her face away from the bong and scrunched her eyes up as she held the smoke in, finally releasing it in a fit of coughs.
"Nice," Wendy snapped and pointed a finger gun at the girl as her coughing diminished. "Now which one of you is actually paying me."
Twenty minutes later, the goth kids and their friend sat sprawled out on the bathroom floor.
"Okay," Wendy asked. "So this... 'Cthulu' thing... is like... a sea monster."
"That's not how you say his name," Pete groaned in frustration. "And he's not a sea monster, he's a god. An Old God. He's like, THE Old God!"
"Dude can you chill the fuck out," Henrietta said without looking at him.
"Did you guys know Michel Phelps' lungs are like, twice the size of an average human's," the blonde girl spoke up at the ceiling from her place on the floor.
"That's fucked up," Wendy replied. "I guess that's why he's so good at swimming."
"And why he's so good at smoking weed."
"Fuck, I wanna smoke weed with Michael Phelps. That guy is... like... he's truly an inspiration, y'know?"
"Yeah if you're into fucking jocks," Pete sneered.
"She did date Stan for like, twenty years," Henrietta added.
"Oh my god," Wendy replied, "Stan stopped playing sports in like, middle school."
"Stan Marsh?" the girl in the Misfits shirt asked.
"Wendy's ex-husband," Michael clarified.
Wendy scoffed in disbelief that the conversation had somehow managed to end up where it had. "Oh my god, can we not? Don't you four have coffins you need to get back to, or something?"
Pete rolled his eyes. "No, but we should go. We're playing a party in North Park tomorrow and I don't wanna feel like shit."
The blonde girl's eyes widened and she tugged at Firkle's sleeve. "Hey. Hey. You said I could show you Hamilton on the drive home." The youngest goth groaned.
"You ever deal up in North Park?" Michael asked Wendy. She'd remained seated as the goth kids began to pick themselves up from the floor. "We can like, never find anyone selling pot up there."
"Nah, North Park is like... a drive."
"I don't think anyone really smokes weed in North Park anymore anyways," Henrietta said. "It's like... all crystal up there now."
"Yikes," Wendy grimaced, "Like crystal meth?"
"It's huge in North Park right now," Pete told her. "I mean, it's always been pretty big with all those biker gangs that hang out up there, but it's really been blowing up lately. Like the mayor declared it an epidemic and everything. There've been people doing it at like, every party we've played up there recently."
"You guys play crystal meth parties?" Firkle's friend asked him, clearly a little skeeved out.
"They like our music," Firkle reasoned.
"But you guys have never messed around with that stuff, right?" she asked.
"Henrietta and I tried it once," Michael answered, "but only because the dude whose house we were playing offered. I can definitely see why people get addicted to it but there's no fucking way I'm paying for crystal when we can barely afford weed; real drugs aren't cheap."
"How much does that stuff usually go for?" Wendy asked.
"I dunno; way more than you'd expect the kinda people who do it to have, though. I mean, if you ever decided to sell the rest of your soul and start dealing meth you could probably really clean up."
"Yeah," Wendy answered. "I probably really could."
"So yeah, Craig doesn't have the key, and we're like, scared shitless, right? Like we just saw these guys drown somebody in Stark's Pond, right? But luckily they had a hacksaw in their trunk – I don't even want to think about why – and they were able to just saw through the chain. They actually turned out to be really nice guys; they even gave us a copy of their mixtape and they're like, pretty good if you're into-"
"Gaaaaahhhh if you're going to be in here you have to order something! You can't just stand around up here, you're distracting Butters!"
Butters was nervously scrambling to complete three drink orders at once while Kenny talked at him from across the front counter of Tweak Bros. Clutching the register, Tweek fumed at Kenny before turning to help the next customer on line.
Kenny didn't reply to Tweek's outburst. "Yo Butters," he turned back towards the boy behind the counter, "your boss is kind of a dick."
"I-I'm not getting distracted Mr. Tweak! I'll have these ready right away!"
"Oh my god," Kenny looked over at Tweek. "You make him call you Mr. Tweak?"
"Ack! No! I don't! Butters I told you to stop calling me that!"
"Aw, I'm sorry Mr. Tweak!"
"Gah!"
Kenny heard the bell over the coffee shop's door ring and turned to see Wendy step inside, shaking some snow from her pink beret. Ugh. That thing was cute. He walked over to meet her by a booth in the corner.
"Sup!" he greeted as he took a seat.
"Hey hey hey," she replied, too busy typing something into her phone to look up at him as she spoke. "Sorry I'm late, traffic coming back from school was awful. I can't stay long either, I gotta pick my mom up from chemo like right after this." It wasn't until Wendy had finally removed her coat and taken a seat that she looked at him. "But I really wanted to talk to you about something."
Kenny blinked. "About what?"
"I guess… about… us."
Kenny sank into his seat a bit. "Oh jeez, what? Why? We've been like… 'being good,' haven't we?"
Wendy shook her head. "Oh, my god, no I'm sorry, I didn't mean like that. I mean us as like, I dunno, drug dealers I guess."
"Uh, how about you keep your voice down," Kenny said through his teeth.
"I mean us as like, I dunno, drug dealers I guess," Wendy repeated in a harsh whisper.
Kenny glared at her. "Fine, okay. Team strategy meeting. What's up?"
Wendy seemed nervous. "Well, I was kinda wondering if you could… I dunno, tell me how I've been doing."
"Like what, a performance review?"
"Don't make fun of me."
"You're just such a nerd."
"Look, I'm serious. I've been doing this for almost five months now, and I think I've gotten pretty good at it – but I want to hear what you think, too."
"Well I mean, I'm not sure what exactly I'm supposed to say. Obviously I think you're doing great; I mean, we probably made more on Halloween alone than I used to make in a single month. Things have been really good."
Kenny thought he could see the girl sigh in relief. "Okay. Cool. So like, that means you trust me, right?"
"Oooooh, that is a troubling question for this to have led to, Testaburger."
"No, no, don't worry it's cool! It's just that… okay, I need to ask you something. I was talking to the goth kids at this party in Middle Park last weekend-"
"Why is everybody fucking friends with the goth kids now."
"-and they were telling me about how they've played a few house shows up in North Park. Now, apparently, everyone at these parties is on like, crystal meth."
Kenny's stomach sank. "Okay, stop."
Wendy stopped talking. "What?"
"Please tell me you aren't going to ask me what I think you're going to ask me."
She definitely looked nervous now. "Well what do you think I'm going to ask you…"
Kenny just stared at her. "What are you going to ask me."
Wendy paused. "Do you wanna start selling crystal meth up in North Park?"
Kenny couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Oh my god, Wendy, are you serious? No. No way." He scoffed and turned to stare out the window of the coffee shop. Wendy just sat across from him in silence, as if trying to think of the right thing to say next.
"Well… could you maybe just help me get some then? I know you have like, some kind of connection that gets you your stuff; all you'd have to do is talk to them for me, you wouldn't have to actually help me sell it."
That definitely wasn't it. "I'm not helping you with this at all, dude," he turned back to face her. "Honestly, how could you even ask me about this? I mean, don't you know what... fuck, you know? My brother?"
"I know, I know," Wendy hurried to apologize, "I'm sorry, I know this isn't very cool of me, but I swear, I wouldn't even ask if I didn't think we'd be able to make some serious money; and I mean, I think we'd be fine, you know? Like, this is us we're talking about, I don't think we'd-"
"You don't think we'd what."
Wendy was silent. Kenny felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Taking it out he saw that he'd gotten a text.
"Hey, uh, dad hit mom."
Kenny rubbed his eyes in frustration and swore under his breath. "Fuck." He pocketed his phone and looked up at Wendy. "I gotta go."
Wendy didn't say anything to try and stop him as he zipped up his parka and hurried out the door. After he'd left, she groaned and sunk into her seat. God, she'd fucked that up. Why did she think that would work? Why did she even think it would be an okay thing to do? She picked up her phone to start texting Kenny that she was sorry, only to drop it in frustration upon realizing that there was no appropriate way to apologize to someone using emojis.
Ugh, and she still had to go pick up her mom. Fucking hell; Wendy loved her mother, but after a packed day of community college back to back with fucking up and pissing Kenny off, all she really wanted to do was go home and smoke herself into a coma. Gathering her things, she decided that at the very least she'd need some caffeine to get her through the last few hours of her night.
"Hey Butters," she greeted as she approached the register, too weary to even order properly. "Can I have something that'll wake me up? Like, to go?"
"O-oh sure Wendy!" he replied cheerily, entering her order into the register. "Anything else I can do for you?"
Wendy sighed. "Yeah. If you see Kenny later can you tell him I'm sorry I'm such an asshole."
Kenny sat in his car facing his parents' house, gripping the steering wheel and looking at the dim lights in the windows. Taking a breath, he killed the engine and got out of the car, making his way towards the house's front door. Steeling himself, he turned the knob.
Things always happened fast whenever Kenny walked in on his parents fighting. The way they both shouted at each other usually made it hard for him to even know what was going on in the first place. This time was no different. Kenny entered the house to find his father gripping his mom in the living room. They were both yelling, swearing, calling each other names. Kenny didn't see Karen anywhere.
"Hey!" Kenny tried to shout over them. "Hey!" After they failed to stop struggling, Kenny rushed over to them and grabbed his father, trying to pull the two away from each other. The next thing he knew, his father's elbow was colliding with his face, sending him back against the wall and dropping him to the floor with a swift blow.
Kenny's parents went silent as their son hit the ground. Kenny sat up, his hand rising to touch his face where his father had struck him. His mother spared him a worried glance before turning back to his father.
"Way to go you fucking asshole," she said to her husband before hurrying out of the room. Kenny's father looked down at his son for a moment before taking a seat on the couch and looking down at the floor, his head in his hands.
Kenny got up without saying anything to his dad. "Karen!" he yelled, knowing that she'd be able to hear him from her room. A few moments later the girl emerged. She looked over at the couch to see that her father had begun to cry. Turning back to Kenny, she greeted him awkwardly.
"Heyyyyy."
Kenny and Karen sat in the parking lot of 7-11, watching the road in front of them and waiting to see which cars turned onto the interstate.
"Switch," Karen broke the silence. Kenny traded slurpees with her. His eyes lingered on her as she took the drink without looking at him, her gaze still fixed on the road outside. "Denver," she said quietly as a car disappeared up the ramp.
Kenny didn't offer a guess himself. Instead, he just watched as the car drove off into the night, bound for somewhere surely better than the quiet mountain town Kenny had called his home his entire life.
He looked back at Karen, and then back at the interstate. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he opened the mobile banking app he used to keep track of his finances. He hadn't worried about being low on funds since he'd started selling drugs, but taking a look at his savings, he doubted he'd have anywhere near enough money to do something as crazy as, oh, say...
Moving out of South Park and taking Karen with him?
No, he definitely couldn't do that. Could he? No. No way. That would be crazy. Besides, he didn't even know how he'd be able to make enough money to do something like, oh, shit. Fuck. Hm.
"Where do you think that one's going?" his sister asked.
"I dunno," Kenny replied absentmindedly. He hadn't noticed that another car had turned onto the interstate; he was too busy staring at the text conversation with Wendy he'd opened on his phone. After a few moments of hesitation, he scrolled far back into his phone's emoji keyboard and found a grey square with two white letters on it.
"OK"
Welcome to season 2!