High School Sucks - 14
The party was still going in full swing as Friday closed down and the earliest hours of Saturday began. Though Stan's alcohol supply was now in dangerous quantities, the continued bringing of beer and drinks by newcomers to the event was keeping most of the guests at the house. The keg, originally the mainstay of the party, was nearing its end, yet there were enough cans of booze to keep everyone occupied for a couple of more hours. The vodka supply was also mostly depleted, but no one was looking for hard liquor by the end of Friday, seeking instead to splurge themselves on cheap beer in cans.
Stan moved through the house with glee as his watch rang off again. He guessed that there were probably close to a hundred people moving in and around his home. Most had concentrated themselves in his kitchen and living room, though there was a concentrated group of smokers in the backyard, some guys brawling with each other in the front, and even some people enjoying themselves upstairs. Stan didn't know a whole lot of people anymore, but he didn't particularly care. Having packed away a very respectable amount of alcohol, Stan was deliriously drunk and happy. Though his eyesight hadn't wavered, his concentration had as he tried to make small talk with people he could recognize.
He spotted Token sitting on the couch, who was enjoying a can of the same beer that Stan had in his hand. Stan grinned and sat down next to him, yawning and kicking his feet up.
"Hey! How ya doing, Token?" He asked with a bit of slurring.
Token shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I'm the fucking designated driver, so I can't drink too much. What about you, you pretty drunk?"
"No...Well, yeah," Stan grinned. "But I can assure you that I am in perfect health to..." Stan trailed off as he began a thoughtful stare at his left hand. Token arched his eyebrows at him, and then laughed.
"Sounds good. I'm telling you, though, this is one fucking awesome party. South Park hasn't had one this great since fucking last New Year's."
Stan tried to interpret what he said, but couldn't piece together what he said and just nodded. "You really think so?"
"Hell yeah. This party is ripping major ass." Token said, standing up. He patted Stan on the shoulder. "You might not know it, but come Monday you're going to be a goddamn legend."
"Thanks!" Stan grinned stupidly before finishing the beer that was left in his can. Dropping the can on the ground and crushing it under his show, Stan leaned back on the couch cushions, waiting for something else to happen. After a couple of minutes, he saw someone sit down next to him.
Stan glanced at the boy. "How's it going down, Butters?"
Butters held up a finger, and finished a swallow of his drink. A droplet of vodka got on his blue Hawaiian shirt, and he brushed it off. "I-I-I'm just doing fucking great-great, Kyle. This is-is just too awesome."
Stan, needing a second to think clearly, finally laughed. "Dude, you called me Kyle. You are so fucked up."
Butters turned his head back, his red face tightening up. "I-I did? Wo-wow. Yeah, I must be pretty fucking drunk."
"What number is that?" Stan asked, pointing a hazy finger at the glass.
Butters thought for a moment. "I-I think it's my...seventh. Why, have I had too-too-too many to drink?"
Though he was drunk, Stan was still to be surprised at what Butters had said. "Dude, it's your fucking seventh glass of that shit?"
Butters, a bit scared by Stan's apparent alarm, nodded hesitantly. "Y-Yeah, why? I don't feel-feel bad or nothin'."
His friend whistled. "I'm just saying, man. It's not going to be long before you have a nightmare hangover."
"O-O-Oh, please," Butters grunted. "How-How can I go from f-fe-feeling so good to so b-bad? This is the-the best feeling of my life. I-I don't think I'm gonna get one of tho-those hang-overs."
Stan smirked. "Whatever you say, dude. I hope you're right, for your sake. Hey, dude, you know where Kyle is?"
Butters stared at the sky, trying to concentrate. "Y-Y-Yeah, I think I saw him in the ki-kit-kit...over there." He finally said, pointing at the kitchen. Stan nodded and stood up. "All right, thanks, bro. I'm glad your first drinking experience could be so cool and at my place."
Stan headed into the kitchen, where he imagined at least twenty-five were having fun. Squinting for a minute, Stan finally detected his best friend, who was sitting at the kitchen table. He was a bit unrecognizable, as he had taken off his hat and exposed his mile-high red afro to the world, but his familiar twitching gave him away to Stan. He was also drinking a liquid that Stan couldn't identify from a shot glass. Stan sauntered his way up to Kyle and patted him on the back, nearly missing him.
Kyle turned and grinned. "Yo, dude, how's it hanging?" The thick alcohol fumes on his breath climbed into Stan's nose.
"Not bad, not bad. How about you? You feeling it?"
Kyle laughed. "You kidding? I am so fucking drunk now, it's unbelievable. I heated up my sake and it's the best shit ever." He held up his glass, and Stan nodded.
"Very cool. You think you're going to have a hangover later or something? I'm not sure if I'm gonna get one."
Kyle shook his head and began twitching. "Nah, I've drank more than this without puking. I don't want to drive, though, unless I absolutely have to. It's still cool for me to stay overnight, right?" He asked.
"Totally. I'll need you to help me take care of Butters, too." Stan couldn't resist laughing as he said that. Kyle understood and smiled.
"I take it he's pretty thrashed?" Kyle's voice warbled a bit as he spoke. Stan nodded.
"Totally. He's so far gone, it's unbelievable. I'm just waiting for him to break down and camp out in front of the toilet." Stan grinned.
"Yeah, I..." Kyle started speaking but was interrupted when he heard something falling down, and immediately after he felt wet. Spotting a stream of beer flowing down his jeans legs, he leaped from his seat.
"Hey! Who the fuck did that?" He hollered, trying to brush the liquid off his pants. He glared around, until his eyes settled on someone.
"Cartman, you fat fuck! You did that, didn't you?" He screamed. Cartman, who was sitting across from Kyle, shrugged.
"I guess. Sorry, dude." Cartman was looking somewhat drunk, and he had his hand cusped around a can. Wearing a familiar-looking red jacket and cargo shorts, he turned his back to Kyle and continued talking.
Kyle, by this time now fuming, stormed up to the fat boy and poked him on the shoulder. When Cartman turned out, Kyle punched him in the face. Cartman's head rolled backwards as the force of the blow knocking him off the chair and onto the ground. With everyone in the kitchen completely shocked, Stan rushed forward to try and restrain his friend. Kyle pushed him away, though, and picked Cartman up by the hair.
"Don't do that shit again, you hear me?" He growled. Cartman's look of shock turned to one of rage as he ripped Kyle's hand from his head and socked Kyle in the stomach, causing him in double over. Cartman stood up.
"Don't tell me what to do, you little shit-faced Jew!" Cartman roared, preparing to kick Kyle over. He didn't have the time to do so, however, for Kyle quickly climbed to his feet, his face looking like a boiling pot. He pointed at the football player and beckoned towards himself.
"That's it, fatty. We're going to settle this once and for all. I am going to kick your ass so hard..."
Before he could finish, Cartman smacked his fist across his chest and grunted. "Bring it on, you bastard!" He interrupted, charging at Kyle. The two locked arms and began wrestling with each other.
"Holy shit, you guys! Calm down!" Stan half-pleaded, sobering up a bit. He thought about entering the fray, but quickly realized that getting between two enraged drunk guys could be a very dangerous thing.
Cartman dealt a powerful blow to Kyle's chest again, causing him to stumble backward. The football player, taking a cue from his favorite game, charged at him with his head in front like a bull. Kyle darted next to him, however, and stuck his foot in front of Cartman's stampede, causing him to fall over. Once he was down, Kyle leapt on him, trying furiously to hit him hard. The two rolled their way into the living room, still fighting. Every single person from the kitchen followed them in, and all eyes from the people in the living room turned to the two fighters.
Kyle, a bit tired from his tussle, climbed to his feet first, trying to kick Cartman down. Before he could, however, Cartman locked his arms around Kyle's waist and lifted. Kyle was brought crashing to the floor by Cartman's powerful slam. Holding an injured knee for a moment, Kyle knew that he couldn't stop and climbed to his feet, despite the pain. He lunged at the waiting Cartman and locked his hands around his neck and in an apparent effort to strangle him. Cartman struggled for a bit, but after a second beer began spewing from his agitated throat. Kyle's grip loosened as the horrendous combination of beer and spit latched on his face. As he began wiping it off, Cartman knew now was his chance to strike. Taking Kyle's neck from behind, Cartman lifted him a foot or two into the air and slammed him to the ground again, causing him to land at the foot of a coffee table.
After a moment or two, Kyle didn't appear to be moving. Cartman inched his way forward, trying to see what was going to happen. In a flash Kyle sprang to his feet, blood in his eyes. In a mad fury he wrenched a lamp that had been on the table off its power cord and swung it across the face of Cartman. The lamp exploded into a thousand pieces when it made contact, and the force of the lamp caused Cartman to collapse on the ground, immediately knocked unconscious. Blood instantly began flowing from several bruises that were now on his face, and his eyes began swelling up.
Within seconds an army of people had crowded around Cartman, including many football players. Hoisting Cartman's body onto the nearest couch, someone dumped a glass of water on his face in an effort to awaken him. It was unsuccessful, and the crowd seemed content to let him lie there.
Stan, amazed by what he saw, walked up to Kyle.
"Jesus, dude, I didn't think you had it in you." He said simply. His friend shrugged, a bit in shock as well.
"Neither did I." Kyle saw the other football players emerge from the couch and walk up to him, making him very uncomfortable.
"What the fuck did you do that to Eric for, cunt?" One of them asked, clenching his fists angrily. He easily stood four or five inches taller than Kyle, and Clyde walked up to him, also looking infuriated.
"Yeah, maybe you should tell us why we shouldn't beat the shit out of you right now, eh Kyle?" Clyde asked. Kyle cleared his throat and dropped his hands.
"Look, guys," he said, "What just happened there is something that's been a long time in the making. Like, ten years."
The football players looked at each other. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You're just jealous of Cartman, and you know it!" A third player said.
Kyle couldn't resist laughing before turning red with anger again. "Oh, please, Brandon! Like I could be possibly be jealous of that fat little fuck and all the wonderful stuff he does. Oh yeah, chugging kegs and playing fucking football! That's definitely the life I want to lead!"
Several gasps from the other guests were heard from the other guests. The football players engaged with Kyle in a stare-down contest, thinking that the red-haired boy would back down and apologize. When they saw him do no such thing, they looked at each other and nodded.
Clyde turned back to Kyle. "Well, dude, I'm sorry, but we have to kick your ass for saying that."
"Hey, wait a second!" Stan suddenly exclaimed, getting in between Kyle and his opponents. "There's not going to be any more fighting in my house tonight, got it? I've already got a ruined lamp, alright? If you guys want to keep duking it out, get the hell out of here."
The boys thought for a moment. Finally the largest of them rested a hand on Stan. "All right, dude, it's your house, so we won't do nothing." He turned back to Kyle and gave him a middle finger. "But you little watch your back, you little fuck."
Kyle said nothing, and the party continued, though a bit more subdued than before. Stan and Kyle sat down on the couch next to each other and groaned simultaneously.
"God, dude," Stan said, shaking his head. "I cannot believe what just happened there. Cartman's passed out on my couch, and the entire football team's out for your blood. Jesus Christ..."
Kyle sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, dude. Booze really does that to me, really pumps me up. I have no fucking clue why, though. I'm really sorry about that lamp, though. I'll pay for it and everything."
"Nah, it's fine. I can BS that. And you shouldn't be apologizing to me, dude. There someone you should apologize to when he wakes up, though." Stan managed a small grin at the last sentence.
Kyle groaned and began staring at the ground. "Maybe. I just don't know if..."
His thoughts were disturbed by a piercing girl's scream outside. Stan and Kyle were among those in the wave of people who raced out to check it out. The back door was opened hurriedly and the company of the party was met with seeing Butters stumbling around in the backyard, totally naked.
"Ah!" The disgusted group immediately cried, trying to get the nude image out of their minds. Stan, shocked, turned to a blond hair who was standing on the porch, and had her back to Butters. "Are you the girl who screamed?"
"Of course, you dumbass!" She cried in a shrill voice. "I just walked out here for a smoke, and I saw that bastard walking around totally fucking naked! He was taking a piss, too!"
Stan winced at the thought. "Oh, god..."
"Stan, what the fuck are we going to do?" Craig asked. "We can't just leave Butters out there."
All thoughts were disturbed when everyone, careful not to see Butters again, couldn't help it as he stumbled up to the front porch, grinning from ear to ear. "Well-Well, hey guys!" He mumbled, his eyes rolling around as he spoke. "H-How are things sh-shaking now?"
Stan, doing his best to resist puking, quietly nudged Kyle. "Dude, go get a towel from my bathroom as fast as you can."
"Got it." Kyle dashed through the wave of spectators and hurried up the stairs. Stan, deciding to brave seeing another man naked, took a step outside and opened his eyes to Butters. The boy looked absolutely pathetic, as though he had absolutely no control over what he was doing. His naked body had formed goose bumps on it, and his eyes looked so tired it appeared as if he couldn't see.
Stan took a deep breath, then began speaking. "Butters, do you know that you're totally naked right now?"
Butters, whose cheery disposition had dissipated into a frown, nodded. "Yeah-Yeah, I know that I'm n-nakey."
"And why are you totally naked?" Stan asked apprehensively.
Butters kicked his foot at the ground. "W-Well, I had to go to the-the bathroom, but I-I couldn't make it up the s-stairs, so I figured o-outside was b-best."
Stan heard Kyle's furious feet make their way back down the steps, and in a moment he had rejoined the rest of the partygoers holding a white towel. He gave it to Stan, who took another step forward and was now within a few feet of the naked Butters.
"That's great, Butters. Listen, I'm just going to tie this around you, okay? Is that alright with you?"
Butters's eyes were now closed, and he gave no response. Stan closed his eyes and quickly wrapped the towel around Butters, taking care not to touch of the bare genitalia. Tying the towel in a knot around his backside, Stan let out a sigh of relief and opened his eyes. Butters was now somewhat clothed, and could be taken back inside. He placed an arm around Butters's back and smiled genuinely.
"All right, dude, see? Everything's going to be okay. You're all right now. It's like I told you. Your first drinking's going to be a little crazy..."
Suddenly Butters turned his head over and hurled, letting forth a constant stream of brown puke. Stan, knowing that it was coming, instinctively leaped away to avoid the blast. Butters went down on all fours to spew, and after a second or two, he stopped. Stan helped him up and looked to Kyle.
"Dude, get him to the upstairs bathroom. He's going to be hacking it up for a long time." Stan said.
Kyle nodded. "Right." Kyle led Butters, who had several substances dripping from his face, inside and helped him climb the stairs. Stan prayed that Butters won't puke again until after he was in the bathroom, and breathed in relief when he saw that Butters didn't. He walked back inside and closed the door to the outside, thinking that he could find Butters's clothes whenever he needed to.
"All right, folks, the party can continue." He said, slightly in embarrassment. He saw Wendy walk up to him and gave her a big hug.
"Hey, baby," Wendy said. "Been quite a night, huh?"
"Oh my god, you have no idea." Stan said. "First Kyle and Cartman kill each other, than I get Butters nude. What's next, huh?"
"Well, don't worry, Stan." Wendy said, nudging her face into Stan's chest. "After the party dies down, we can make up for all the lost time from this party. It'll be just the two of us."
"Not really." Stan grinned. "Kyle's spending the night. Butters and Cartman will probably stick around, just because neither of them is really in a condition to leave."
Wendy nodded. "That's fine, but..."
The two of them heard the doorbell ring at that second, and Stan groaned again. "Dammit, just I'm getting comfortable with my lady, that fucking doorbell has to go off."
Wendy laughed. "Yeah, but you'd better go get it."
"I know, I know." Stan walked from the kitchen into the living room, where he opened the front door. He was met with an officer on the other side, who was looking at him suspiciously. Stan was taken aback.
"Officer Barbrady?" He cried.
"That's right! I got a call of disturbance for this residence, and I'm checking things out!" Barbrady forced his way inside the house, and surveyed the scene. Everyone was instantly quiet when they saw the cop enter the home.
Stan tried to think of good excuses in the seconds he had. "So what were the disturbance calls about, sir?"
"There have been claims that there is underage drinking here, and that there was a naked man outside around here!" Barbrady barked.
"Drinking? As in alcohol?" Stan feigned ignorance.
"Exactly!" Barbrady shouted.
"Well, I can assure you that there is none of that here. In fact..." Stan pointed at Wendy. "I was just making out with my girlfriend there, when suddenly all of these people came into my house. For absolutely no reason! Do you have any idea why that might be, sir?"
Barbrady mulled the thought over for a moment. "You know, I've heard a theory about the mass migration of high school students from one place to another. I think it's supposed to be quite common."
Stan went wide-eyed, hoping that his charade would work. "Well, there you go, sir! That must be why all these kids are in my house!"
"Exactly! That's it!" Barbrady turned to the rest of the kids. "All right, people, let's move along! There's nothing to see here!"
The kids grudgingly made their way to the front door. Barbrady walked outside to check everyone as the left. Stan stood at the front door to say goodbye to everyone as they left. He was met with many compliments, even from the people he didn't know.
Finally, the last of the people to leave, Pip and Timmy, stopped at the door. Pip eagerly shook his hand.
"Damn, man, this 'ere was one rockin' house t'night. You did good, Stan. I'm hopin' I can have meself here some other time?" He asked.
Stan laughed. "Sure thing, dude."
"Good...party Timmy!" Timmy cried. The two waved and closed the front door behind them. Stan sat down on the couch next to the fallen Cartman, and similarly relaxed, totally exhausted. Wendy sat down next to him and the two began cuddling with each other on the couch.
Kyle opened the upstairs bathroom floor. "All right, Stan, Butters is puking his heart out...Woah!" Kyle gazed out over the balcony to the nearly empty living room. "Where the fuck did everyone go?"
"Barbrady busted the place and everyone left." Stan shrugged. "No big whoop. It's almost one, anyway. I didn't think it would last much longer, anyway."
"Yeah." Kyle agreed.
"So how's Butters doing?" Stan asked.
Kyle shook his head, "He's a total wreck. He's crying his eyes out and he looks like total shit. Let this be a reminder, dude. Never, ever start anyone out on vodka again."
Stan nodded grimly. "Yeah, but look at it this way. When he wakes up tomorrow, he probably won't remember any of this. He might not even remember being naked outside or any of that."
Kyle laughed. "We can only hope. Well, I'll leave you lovebirds alone. I'd best keep checking on Butters anyway." He opened the bathroom door and walked inside, closing it behind him.
Stan and Wendy continued snuggling, amid the grunts that were coming from Cartman. Wendy let out a sigh of happiness. "Stan, this is so incredible. What say we sleep somewhere else, though?"
He looked at her. "I suppose we could. My room?"
"No, your bed isn't big enough for both of us. How about we go ahead and sleep in your parent's bedroom?" Wendy asked hopefully.
Stan winced for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "All right. Let's go. I wouldn't mind getting more comfortable."
Together the two emerged from the couch and headed toward the stairs. A bit careful not to fall over, Stan made his way up them with Wendy close behind. Passing by the bathroom, where they could hear Butters hollering in despair, the two walked into Randy and Sharon's bedroom, locking the door behind them.
The party was still going in full swing as Friday closed down and the earliest hours of Saturday began. Though Stan's alcohol supply was now in dangerous quantities, the continued bringing of beer and drinks by newcomers to the event was keeping most of the guests at the house. The keg, originally the mainstay of the party, was nearing its end, yet there were enough cans of booze to keep everyone occupied for a couple of more hours. The vodka supply was also mostly depleted, but no one was looking for hard liquor by the end of Friday, seeking instead to splurge themselves on cheap beer in cans.
Stan moved through the house with glee as his watch rang off again. He guessed that there were probably close to a hundred people moving in and around his home. Most had concentrated themselves in his kitchen and living room, though there was a concentrated group of smokers in the backyard, some guys brawling with each other in the front, and even some people enjoying themselves upstairs. Stan didn't know a whole lot of people anymore, but he didn't particularly care. Having packed away a very respectable amount of alcohol, Stan was deliriously drunk and happy. Though his eyesight hadn't wavered, his concentration had as he tried to make small talk with people he could recognize.
He spotted Token sitting on the couch, who was enjoying a can of the same beer that Stan had in his hand. Stan grinned and sat down next to him, yawning and kicking his feet up.
"Hey! How ya doing, Token?" He asked with a bit of slurring.
Token shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I'm the fucking designated driver, so I can't drink too much. What about you, you pretty drunk?"
"No...Well, yeah," Stan grinned. "But I can assure you that I am in perfect health to..." Stan trailed off as he began a thoughtful stare at his left hand. Token arched his eyebrows at him, and then laughed.
"Sounds good. I'm telling you, though, this is one fucking awesome party. South Park hasn't had one this great since fucking last New Year's."
Stan tried to interpret what he said, but couldn't piece together what he said and just nodded. "You really think so?"
"Hell yeah. This party is ripping major ass." Token said, standing up. He patted Stan on the shoulder. "You might not know it, but come Monday you're going to be a goddamn legend."
"Thanks!" Stan grinned stupidly before finishing the beer that was left in his can. Dropping the can on the ground and crushing it under his show, Stan leaned back on the couch cushions, waiting for something else to happen. After a couple of minutes, he saw someone sit down next to him.
Stan glanced at the boy. "How's it going down, Butters?"
Butters held up a finger, and finished a swallow of his drink. A droplet of vodka got on his blue Hawaiian shirt, and he brushed it off. "I-I-I'm just doing fucking great-great, Kyle. This is-is just too awesome."
Stan, needing a second to think clearly, finally laughed. "Dude, you called me Kyle. You are so fucked up."
Butters turned his head back, his red face tightening up. "I-I did? Wo-wow. Yeah, I must be pretty fucking drunk."
"What number is that?" Stan asked, pointing a hazy finger at the glass.
Butters thought for a moment. "I-I think it's my...seventh. Why, have I had too-too-too many to drink?"
Though he was drunk, Stan was still to be surprised at what Butters had said. "Dude, it's your fucking seventh glass of that shit?"
Butters, a bit scared by Stan's apparent alarm, nodded hesitantly. "Y-Yeah, why? I don't feel-feel bad or nothin'."
His friend whistled. "I'm just saying, man. It's not going to be long before you have a nightmare hangover."
"O-O-Oh, please," Butters grunted. "How-How can I go from f-fe-feeling so good to so b-bad? This is the-the best feeling of my life. I-I don't think I'm gonna get one of tho-those hang-overs."
Stan smirked. "Whatever you say, dude. I hope you're right, for your sake. Hey, dude, you know where Kyle is?"
Butters stared at the sky, trying to concentrate. "Y-Y-Yeah, I think I saw him in the ki-kit-kit...over there." He finally said, pointing at the kitchen. Stan nodded and stood up. "All right, thanks, bro. I'm glad your first drinking experience could be so cool and at my place."
Stan headed into the kitchen, where he imagined at least twenty-five were having fun. Squinting for a minute, Stan finally detected his best friend, who was sitting at the kitchen table. He was a bit unrecognizable, as he had taken off his hat and exposed his mile-high red afro to the world, but his familiar twitching gave him away to Stan. He was also drinking a liquid that Stan couldn't identify from a shot glass. Stan sauntered his way up to Kyle and patted him on the back, nearly missing him.
Kyle turned and grinned. "Yo, dude, how's it hanging?" The thick alcohol fumes on his breath climbed into Stan's nose.
"Not bad, not bad. How about you? You feeling it?"
Kyle laughed. "You kidding? I am so fucking drunk now, it's unbelievable. I heated up my sake and it's the best shit ever." He held up his glass, and Stan nodded.
"Very cool. You think you're going to have a hangover later or something? I'm not sure if I'm gonna get one."
Kyle shook his head and began twitching. "Nah, I've drank more than this without puking. I don't want to drive, though, unless I absolutely have to. It's still cool for me to stay overnight, right?" He asked.
"Totally. I'll need you to help me take care of Butters, too." Stan couldn't resist laughing as he said that. Kyle understood and smiled.
"I take it he's pretty thrashed?" Kyle's voice warbled a bit as he spoke. Stan nodded.
"Totally. He's so far gone, it's unbelievable. I'm just waiting for him to break down and camp out in front of the toilet." Stan grinned.
"Yeah, I..." Kyle started speaking but was interrupted when he heard something falling down, and immediately after he felt wet. Spotting a stream of beer flowing down his jeans legs, he leaped from his seat.
"Hey! Who the fuck did that?" He hollered, trying to brush the liquid off his pants. He glared around, until his eyes settled on someone.
"Cartman, you fat fuck! You did that, didn't you?" He screamed. Cartman, who was sitting across from Kyle, shrugged.
"I guess. Sorry, dude." Cartman was looking somewhat drunk, and he had his hand cusped around a can. Wearing a familiar-looking red jacket and cargo shorts, he turned his back to Kyle and continued talking.
Kyle, by this time now fuming, stormed up to the fat boy and poked him on the shoulder. When Cartman turned out, Kyle punched him in the face. Cartman's head rolled backwards as the force of the blow knocking him off the chair and onto the ground. With everyone in the kitchen completely shocked, Stan rushed forward to try and restrain his friend. Kyle pushed him away, though, and picked Cartman up by the hair.
"Don't do that shit again, you hear me?" He growled. Cartman's look of shock turned to one of rage as he ripped Kyle's hand from his head and socked Kyle in the stomach, causing him in double over. Cartman stood up.
"Don't tell me what to do, you little shit-faced Jew!" Cartman roared, preparing to kick Kyle over. He didn't have the time to do so, however, for Kyle quickly climbed to his feet, his face looking like a boiling pot. He pointed at the football player and beckoned towards himself.
"That's it, fatty. We're going to settle this once and for all. I am going to kick your ass so hard..."
Before he could finish, Cartman smacked his fist across his chest and grunted. "Bring it on, you bastard!" He interrupted, charging at Kyle. The two locked arms and began wrestling with each other.
"Holy shit, you guys! Calm down!" Stan half-pleaded, sobering up a bit. He thought about entering the fray, but quickly realized that getting between two enraged drunk guys could be a very dangerous thing.
Cartman dealt a powerful blow to Kyle's chest again, causing him to stumble backward. The football player, taking a cue from his favorite game, charged at him with his head in front like a bull. Kyle darted next to him, however, and stuck his foot in front of Cartman's stampede, causing him to fall over. Once he was down, Kyle leapt on him, trying furiously to hit him hard. The two rolled their way into the living room, still fighting. Every single person from the kitchen followed them in, and all eyes from the people in the living room turned to the two fighters.
Kyle, a bit tired from his tussle, climbed to his feet first, trying to kick Cartman down. Before he could, however, Cartman locked his arms around Kyle's waist and lifted. Kyle was brought crashing to the floor by Cartman's powerful slam. Holding an injured knee for a moment, Kyle knew that he couldn't stop and climbed to his feet, despite the pain. He lunged at the waiting Cartman and locked his hands around his neck and in an apparent effort to strangle him. Cartman struggled for a bit, but after a second beer began spewing from his agitated throat. Kyle's grip loosened as the horrendous combination of beer and spit latched on his face. As he began wiping it off, Cartman knew now was his chance to strike. Taking Kyle's neck from behind, Cartman lifted him a foot or two into the air and slammed him to the ground again, causing him to land at the foot of a coffee table.
After a moment or two, Kyle didn't appear to be moving. Cartman inched his way forward, trying to see what was going to happen. In a flash Kyle sprang to his feet, blood in his eyes. In a mad fury he wrenched a lamp that had been on the table off its power cord and swung it across the face of Cartman. The lamp exploded into a thousand pieces when it made contact, and the force of the lamp caused Cartman to collapse on the ground, immediately knocked unconscious. Blood instantly began flowing from several bruises that were now on his face, and his eyes began swelling up.
Within seconds an army of people had crowded around Cartman, including many football players. Hoisting Cartman's body onto the nearest couch, someone dumped a glass of water on his face in an effort to awaken him. It was unsuccessful, and the crowd seemed content to let him lie there.
Stan, amazed by what he saw, walked up to Kyle.
"Jesus, dude, I didn't think you had it in you." He said simply. His friend shrugged, a bit in shock as well.
"Neither did I." Kyle saw the other football players emerge from the couch and walk up to him, making him very uncomfortable.
"What the fuck did you do that to Eric for, cunt?" One of them asked, clenching his fists angrily. He easily stood four or five inches taller than Kyle, and Clyde walked up to him, also looking infuriated.
"Yeah, maybe you should tell us why we shouldn't beat the shit out of you right now, eh Kyle?" Clyde asked. Kyle cleared his throat and dropped his hands.
"Look, guys," he said, "What just happened there is something that's been a long time in the making. Like, ten years."
The football players looked at each other. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You're just jealous of Cartman, and you know it!" A third player said.
Kyle couldn't resist laughing before turning red with anger again. "Oh, please, Brandon! Like I could be possibly be jealous of that fat little fuck and all the wonderful stuff he does. Oh yeah, chugging kegs and playing fucking football! That's definitely the life I want to lead!"
Several gasps from the other guests were heard from the other guests. The football players engaged with Kyle in a stare-down contest, thinking that the red-haired boy would back down and apologize. When they saw him do no such thing, they looked at each other and nodded.
Clyde turned back to Kyle. "Well, dude, I'm sorry, but we have to kick your ass for saying that."
"Hey, wait a second!" Stan suddenly exclaimed, getting in between Kyle and his opponents. "There's not going to be any more fighting in my house tonight, got it? I've already got a ruined lamp, alright? If you guys want to keep duking it out, get the hell out of here."
The boys thought for a moment. Finally the largest of them rested a hand on Stan. "All right, dude, it's your house, so we won't do nothing." He turned back to Kyle and gave him a middle finger. "But you little watch your back, you little fuck."
Kyle said nothing, and the party continued, though a bit more subdued than before. Stan and Kyle sat down on the couch next to each other and groaned simultaneously.
"God, dude," Stan said, shaking his head. "I cannot believe what just happened there. Cartman's passed out on my couch, and the entire football team's out for your blood. Jesus Christ..."
Kyle sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, dude. Booze really does that to me, really pumps me up. I have no fucking clue why, though. I'm really sorry about that lamp, though. I'll pay for it and everything."
"Nah, it's fine. I can BS that. And you shouldn't be apologizing to me, dude. There someone you should apologize to when he wakes up, though." Stan managed a small grin at the last sentence.
Kyle groaned and began staring at the ground. "Maybe. I just don't know if..."
His thoughts were disturbed by a piercing girl's scream outside. Stan and Kyle were among those in the wave of people who raced out to check it out. The back door was opened hurriedly and the company of the party was met with seeing Butters stumbling around in the backyard, totally naked.
"Ah!" The disgusted group immediately cried, trying to get the nude image out of their minds. Stan, shocked, turned to a blond hair who was standing on the porch, and had her back to Butters. "Are you the girl who screamed?"
"Of course, you dumbass!" She cried in a shrill voice. "I just walked out here for a smoke, and I saw that bastard walking around totally fucking naked! He was taking a piss, too!"
Stan winced at the thought. "Oh, god..."
"Stan, what the fuck are we going to do?" Craig asked. "We can't just leave Butters out there."
All thoughts were disturbed when everyone, careful not to see Butters again, couldn't help it as he stumbled up to the front porch, grinning from ear to ear. "Well-Well, hey guys!" He mumbled, his eyes rolling around as he spoke. "H-How are things sh-shaking now?"
Stan, doing his best to resist puking, quietly nudged Kyle. "Dude, go get a towel from my bathroom as fast as you can."
"Got it." Kyle dashed through the wave of spectators and hurried up the stairs. Stan, deciding to brave seeing another man naked, took a step outside and opened his eyes to Butters. The boy looked absolutely pathetic, as though he had absolutely no control over what he was doing. His naked body had formed goose bumps on it, and his eyes looked so tired it appeared as if he couldn't see.
Stan took a deep breath, then began speaking. "Butters, do you know that you're totally naked right now?"
Butters, whose cheery disposition had dissipated into a frown, nodded. "Yeah-Yeah, I know that I'm n-nakey."
"And why are you totally naked?" Stan asked apprehensively.
Butters kicked his foot at the ground. "W-Well, I had to go to the-the bathroom, but I-I couldn't make it up the s-stairs, so I figured o-outside was b-best."
Stan heard Kyle's furious feet make their way back down the steps, and in a moment he had rejoined the rest of the partygoers holding a white towel. He gave it to Stan, who took another step forward and was now within a few feet of the naked Butters.
"That's great, Butters. Listen, I'm just going to tie this around you, okay? Is that alright with you?"
Butters's eyes were now closed, and he gave no response. Stan closed his eyes and quickly wrapped the towel around Butters, taking care not to touch of the bare genitalia. Tying the towel in a knot around his backside, Stan let out a sigh of relief and opened his eyes. Butters was now somewhat clothed, and could be taken back inside. He placed an arm around Butters's back and smiled genuinely.
"All right, dude, see? Everything's going to be okay. You're all right now. It's like I told you. Your first drinking's going to be a little crazy..."
Suddenly Butters turned his head over and hurled, letting forth a constant stream of brown puke. Stan, knowing that it was coming, instinctively leaped away to avoid the blast. Butters went down on all fours to spew, and after a second or two, he stopped. Stan helped him up and looked to Kyle.
"Dude, get him to the upstairs bathroom. He's going to be hacking it up for a long time." Stan said.
Kyle nodded. "Right." Kyle led Butters, who had several substances dripping from his face, inside and helped him climb the stairs. Stan prayed that Butters won't puke again until after he was in the bathroom, and breathed in relief when he saw that Butters didn't. He walked back inside and closed the door to the outside, thinking that he could find Butters's clothes whenever he needed to.
"All right, folks, the party can continue." He said, slightly in embarrassment. He saw Wendy walk up to him and gave her a big hug.
"Hey, baby," Wendy said. "Been quite a night, huh?"
"Oh my god, you have no idea." Stan said. "First Kyle and Cartman kill each other, than I get Butters nude. What's next, huh?"
"Well, don't worry, Stan." Wendy said, nudging her face into Stan's chest. "After the party dies down, we can make up for all the lost time from this party. It'll be just the two of us."
"Not really." Stan grinned. "Kyle's spending the night. Butters and Cartman will probably stick around, just because neither of them is really in a condition to leave."
Wendy nodded. "That's fine, but..."
The two of them heard the doorbell ring at that second, and Stan groaned again. "Dammit, just I'm getting comfortable with my lady, that fucking doorbell has to go off."
Wendy laughed. "Yeah, but you'd better go get it."
"I know, I know." Stan walked from the kitchen into the living room, where he opened the front door. He was met with an officer on the other side, who was looking at him suspiciously. Stan was taken aback.
"Officer Barbrady?" He cried.
"That's right! I got a call of disturbance for this residence, and I'm checking things out!" Barbrady forced his way inside the house, and surveyed the scene. Everyone was instantly quiet when they saw the cop enter the home.
Stan tried to think of good excuses in the seconds he had. "So what were the disturbance calls about, sir?"
"There have been claims that there is underage drinking here, and that there was a naked man outside around here!" Barbrady barked.
"Drinking? As in alcohol?" Stan feigned ignorance.
"Exactly!" Barbrady shouted.
"Well, I can assure you that there is none of that here. In fact..." Stan pointed at Wendy. "I was just making out with my girlfriend there, when suddenly all of these people came into my house. For absolutely no reason! Do you have any idea why that might be, sir?"
Barbrady mulled the thought over for a moment. "You know, I've heard a theory about the mass migration of high school students from one place to another. I think it's supposed to be quite common."
Stan went wide-eyed, hoping that his charade would work. "Well, there you go, sir! That must be why all these kids are in my house!"
"Exactly! That's it!" Barbrady turned to the rest of the kids. "All right, people, let's move along! There's nothing to see here!"
The kids grudgingly made their way to the front door. Barbrady walked outside to check everyone as the left. Stan stood at the front door to say goodbye to everyone as they left. He was met with many compliments, even from the people he didn't know.
Finally, the last of the people to leave, Pip and Timmy, stopped at the door. Pip eagerly shook his hand.
"Damn, man, this 'ere was one rockin' house t'night. You did good, Stan. I'm hopin' I can have meself here some other time?" He asked.
Stan laughed. "Sure thing, dude."
"Good...party Timmy!" Timmy cried. The two waved and closed the front door behind them. Stan sat down on the couch next to the fallen Cartman, and similarly relaxed, totally exhausted. Wendy sat down next to him and the two began cuddling with each other on the couch.
Kyle opened the upstairs bathroom floor. "All right, Stan, Butters is puking his heart out...Woah!" Kyle gazed out over the balcony to the nearly empty living room. "Where the fuck did everyone go?"
"Barbrady busted the place and everyone left." Stan shrugged. "No big whoop. It's almost one, anyway. I didn't think it would last much longer, anyway."
"Yeah." Kyle agreed.
"So how's Butters doing?" Stan asked.
Kyle shook his head, "He's a total wreck. He's crying his eyes out and he looks like total shit. Let this be a reminder, dude. Never, ever start anyone out on vodka again."
Stan nodded grimly. "Yeah, but look at it this way. When he wakes up tomorrow, he probably won't remember any of this. He might not even remember being naked outside or any of that."
Kyle laughed. "We can only hope. Well, I'll leave you lovebirds alone. I'd best keep checking on Butters anyway." He opened the bathroom door and walked inside, closing it behind him.
Stan and Wendy continued snuggling, amid the grunts that were coming from Cartman. Wendy let out a sigh of happiness. "Stan, this is so incredible. What say we sleep somewhere else, though?"
He looked at her. "I suppose we could. My room?"
"No, your bed isn't big enough for both of us. How about we go ahead and sleep in your parent's bedroom?" Wendy asked hopefully.
Stan winced for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "All right. Let's go. I wouldn't mind getting more comfortable."
Together the two emerged from the couch and headed toward the stairs. A bit careful not to fall over, Stan made his way up them with Wendy close behind. Passing by the bathroom, where they could hear Butters hollering in despair, the two walked into Randy and Sharon's bedroom, locking the door behind them.