Perchance to Dream

Disclaimer: See prologue

Summary: Stanley tries his fake ID out

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Elsewhere

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I don't think I've ever hated Kyle more than I do now. I mean, really. Who the Hell does the little fucker think he is? He sits in his car for ten minutes (out of my sight, apparently), watching me work to close up, and then when it's almost EXACTLY time to lock the doors, the little bastard brazenly steps in and more or less demands to speak with me, after we haven't spoken in three years.

I'm sorry, but that's a little late to be having second thoughts. And if Mister Genius Stud Running Back is just now deciding he made a mistake by disenfranchising me, I will never respect him. Goddamnit…I don't know what the hell's wrong with him. Why he thinks he has the right to stalk me, why he would be stalking me in the first place, why Wends wasn't with him, and about thirty-eight other questions are racing through my mind now.

The hate is exacerbated because of the fact that it should only be a twenty minute walk to the liquor store from Jumpin Java. Because of the fact that I've been taking alleys and side-streets, peeking around every corner twice to make sure Kyle's not following me, it's taken me forty. The damn place is going to close in twenty minutes, and since it's so close to Christmas, half the men in town are probably lined up to stock up on liquor to "spice up" the eggnog.

When I arrive, true to prediction, there's a line out the door and the parking lot's full. Shivering, I fish in my pocket for a cigarette and my lighter, taking a long drag and resting my feet alternately against the front wall while I wait for the line to move forward. I watch Mr. Black walk out with two cases of high-quality whiskey. Token's probably going to spirit away at least half a case for Kyle's Chrismukkah Party. After him is Craig's Dad, with a case of Guinness. I've had their eggnog before. It's really creamy and tastes fucking fantastic. Then comes Clyde's current dad – I think it's Donovan again…his Mom gets a divorce every couple years and rotates between three guys. I actually kinda feel bad for the guy…he has to deal with all the paperwork to change his name with every new marriage. The line moves forward a bit, and I'm two people from the door.

Mister Stevens follows, with cases of schnapps for Missus Stevens, and I know that Bebe will lift more than a couple to get admission to Kyle's party, and access to Kyle's Jew ass. Sarge Yates follows, with a case of schnapps, a case of Guinness, and two cases of Coors. I suppose Barbrady will be the only cop on duty in Park County Christmas night, as usual. To my minimal surprise, he's followed out by Dr. Doctor, who's got beer and wine coolers. And two bottles of "medicinal" whiskey. The only thing they're going to medicate, of course, is the memories of all the patients they lose at that shithole. Finally, I'm in the door. I flick my cigarette butt out the door in compliance with the no-smoking policy, and watch the three others ahead of me place their orders.

Mister Testaburger is at the counter, and I know exactly what he's getting for whom. A bottle of whiskey, a bottle of gin, and a bottle of bourbon for himself, a case of wine for his wife, and three sets of wine coolers – ostensibly for his wife, but I know that they're for Wendy to get into Kyle's party. They're fruity little things, but they taste great and do well to loosen pesky inhibitions. I bet Kyle takes pains to buy her a couple on every date, so the bastard can get laid. After him comes Skeeter, who predictably loads up on beer and whiskey. Barbrady is going to have his work cut out for him, by the looks of it. That's enough for all of Skeeter's usual bunch of friends. The last person in line before me looks to be one of the Mayor's flunkies. He buys schnapps, schnapps, schnapps, and more schnapps. Now, either the Mayor's planning on throwing a hell of a party, or she's planning on screwing around with Barbrady again and needs to get in the "proper state of mind." I can't blame her for needing a healthy dose of liquid courage to think about seeing Barbrady naked. I'd have to be nearly dead from alcohol poisoning before I would even give fucking Barbrady a second thought.

Finally it's my turn. I step up to the counter, much to the surprise of Jamey. He and Dad were friends in High School, and meet up all the time at the bar. I met him a couple times when I needed Dad's help with something and he was there.

"Stan? What are you doing here?"

"Hey Jamey," I answer. "I need a carton of Marlboros and a case of Coors."

"Can do on the smokes, but the beer…"

"It's for Dad," I assure him. "He asked me to pick it up on my way home from work, since I was getting off before him for once."

"Well, since it's for Randy…" Jamey says, grabbing both and hauling them up on the counter before ringing them up. "ID, Stan?"

Smiling, I dig my real license out of my wallet and hand it over. Jamey gives it a once-over and hands it back. "Thirty-six ninety nine, Stan," he tells me, and I grin at my luck. I pull the thirty-seven dollars out of my wallet and slide them across the counter, grinning.

"Keep the change," I say with a smirk, taking my receipt and purchases. I slip the carton of cigs into my bag and heft the beer case under my arm, setting off home. I'll have to be just as careful walking home as I was walking here. If Kyle really wants to talk to me, he'll be staking out my house, so I'll have to sneak in the back way. Goddamn Jew, that'll add another twenty minutes to an already 30-minute walk. I'm seething with rage, right now. Why did he have to pick today, of all days, to aggravate me like this?

I sneak back into the center of town and peek my head out of an alley to have a look around when I see Butters walking down the street talking on his cell, and since he's the only person around I can plainly hear what he's saying.

"…Kyle, man, I dunno about this…I've been walking around for almost two hours, and dinner hits the table back home in half an hour, and if I'm not home for dinner, I'm gonna get grounded, you KNOW that…just call it off, dude."

At the first mention of Kyle, I quickly pull my head back and flatten myself to the nearest building, hoping he'll just pass me by. No such luck, as I listen to him continue his conversation.

"Wait a minute, dude, I just saw him. Alley between the barbershop and the hardware store…you want me to put him on the phone? Alright…" I hear as he draws closer and turns the corner and appears in front of me.

"Hi Stan!" he says, not losing any of his perpetual cheerfulness. "What've you got there?"

"None of your business," I reply icily, looking for a way out of this without talking to Kyle. Unfortunately, I'm boxed in to my left by a pile of boxes, on my right by a garbage can, behind me by a brick wall, and in front of me by Butters.

"Uh…Kyle," he says, pointing to his phone, "wants to talk to you."

"Tell Kyle," I say, pulling back my right leg, "That I'm in no mood to talk." Then I snap kick Butters in the balls, push him into the pile of boxes, and flee down the street, not even caring if Kyle's waiting just around the corner. I take small satisfaction in the fact that, besides Butters' "Oof!" and groan as I connected and he fell, that I heard Kyle screaming "Butters? What's going on?" as I made my escape.

I sprint for two blocks before the weight of my load catches up with me and forces me to slow down and catch my breath. I duck into another alley and wait until my breathing returns to normal to continue on. I double my vigilance, and it pays off. I manage to avoid Kenny three blocks later, and Lardass lurking by my bus stop before catching Kyle's car just where I expected it, parked in front of my house, with its occupant fogging his windshield angrily yelling at his various minions for failing to catch me.

I can't help but chuckle as I nip around the block to the alley, where I'm able to climb over my back fence and walk through my backyard, in through the kitchen door, up to my room, where I drop off my bag and beer before heading downstairs to catch a late dinner. I laugh aloud when I think over all I did this afternoon. I had Greg lie to Kyle, I lied to Jamey, I avoided Kyle's net of operatives, I kicked Butters in the balls, which is something I've wanted to do for three years, and I made Kyle angry. This is probably going to cause a problem at school tomorrow, but it will be SO worth it.

He deserves it. He deserves to know that I want nothing to do with him or his cronies. He deserves the realization that he doesn't control everything related to South Park High and its students. He deserves to be foiled. It's taken too goddamn long. He's had uncontested control ever since his coup three Decembers ago. Maybe this will teach him that there are people who don't think he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. That he is actually fallible. That I fucking hate him and everything to do with him.

I can't wait for school Monday. I'm going to go upstairs and do all my homework, and then start working on getting blasted. I'll go to school sober…barely. And that's a good thing. The residual alcohol in my blood will help soften the punches that will almost certainly come for this blatant defiance of Kyle's authority.

But fuck him. Seriously. Fuck him.

Bastard Jew, anyway. He can go straight to Hell, even though he doesn't believe in it. He can go wherever bad Jews go when they die. I don't know where that is, but he's going there. He's definitely going there. Be all his sins remember'd, and all that. Hell, I'd even settle for him to get his come-uppance in the form of karma, taking away all HIS power and prestige and authority and fangirls. Not that I necessarily want them back; I don't think I'd know what to do with them after so long, but it would be GREAT if he didn't have them anymore.

I wonder if he has any dirty little secrets that I can exploit… assuming I can find out about them. Maybe Wendy knows something. Maybe he's got his Dad's ED. Maybe he suffers from premature ejaculation. Third nipple? No, I'd know about that…he doesn't have any embarrassing bookmarks, so unless it's something psychological that he's just come down with or something wrong with his sexual performance, it would have to be something else. I think I should have a long talk with Wendy, see if she can tell me anything I can use to further subvert Kyle's authority.

Oh, I can almost taste his downfall…

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Notes: So, here you go, a new chapter before the end of February. I'll tell you, though; it's getting considerably harder for me to write these lead-up chapters. Not for lack of interest in the subject, but because my mind is so far ahead of the rest of me in this story. I'm already thinking about the point WAY in the future where there is hesitant Kyan, and smex. Oh, and stupid Stan, with all sorts of emotional baggage…and two or three surprises.

The next chapter will be up sometime before Easter. This is due to the fact that I need about a month between chapters, and because I have all of Spring Break in there to work on it.

So…sometime during Holy Week, at worst.

Reviews are doing great, I'm just going to spend the next month all jittery and unbalanced because I'm going to have a decimalized review/chapter ratio. Oh well…I'll eventually put it out of my mind. I love you all for helping soothe my deep-seated fears of inadequacy.

Till March,

Phoenix II