Big Brother: South Park Edition
Week 9 – "The Week Where It All Comes to an End" (Part 3)
Tokens saunters down the front pathway, clearly more concerned with looking good than getting to the Big Brother house's front doorway quickly. The other seven jurors are trailing him like Mama Duck, the afternoon sun watching over them from a distance. "Jesus Christ, Token! Where are we going, Mars? At this rate, Craig and the spaz are probably already fucking!"
The host stops in place, causing several of the other jury members to nearly bump into him. Token ignores the sea of miffed expressions and narrows in on Cartman, "First of all, you can't say 'fucking' on live television, okay? We'll get canceled. So that means no 'fuck', no 'fucking', no 'fucked', and definitely no 'fuckin' fuck fuckity fuck'," he lectures, his eyes as widen as cinnamon buns, "Do you understand?" he dramatically whispers.
Cartman looks to the other jurors before turning back to the host, surprisingly thinking this news over for three seconds, "Well, doo dah diddly doop!"
"Indeed," Token nods, seemingly satisfied. He walks on towards the house, the jury members instantly picking up behind him, Butters even mimicking a few revving noises as he does so, "And second of all, it's not like Craig can get far. The door's locked from both sides."
"Wait, you mean you locked them in there from the outside too?" Stan questions, pausing a bit at this information; Token nods, "Isn't that a bit of a safety hazard?"
"Yes," Token shamelessly admits, not skipping a beat, "but who's going to shut me down? I make the rules for this show!" his brags, his expression sinister, like a maniac holding a flashlight under his face.
A few of the jurors shiver. "See, yew guys? I told you he was drunk with power!" Cartman gloats, shaking his head as they approach the home stretch, their fellow juror coming into view beside the structure.
Craig jitters and hunches over, his face a putrid green as he vomits into the shrubs, a few feet away from the entrance. Clyde darts over to him and leans down beside his best friend, "Oh my God, Craig! Are you alright?" he coos, worry etched in his voice. He takes a tissue from his dazzling purple suit pocket and hands it to him; Craig gratefully accepts it, "Are you nervous?"
Clyde watches as Craig carefully wipes the vomit from the corner of his lips. He clears his throat, collecting himself a bit before making eye contact. "Yes," Craig answers wholeheartedly.
"Wow. I didn't think you'd willingly admit that," Clyde states, looking like he just saw a ghost.
Craig nods, still trembling slightly beside him, before a gross realization slaps him across the mouth, "Shit. Now my breath tastes like vomit."
Clyde turns, a smile tugging at his lips, "I really don't think Tweek's going to care, but, in case he does – Bebe!" Clyde calls out, cupping his hands over his mouth like a megaphone as he shouts across the lawn, "Hey, Miss Ultra Prepared! Get over here!"
Bebe cocks her brow at the callout, the blonde standing beside Token, who is attempting to break through one of the locks on the front door. She takes one look at the borefest happening beside her, before the fashionista scampers over, her designer bag hung over her shoulder, "Do you have anything to kill vomit breath?" Clyde asks the second she is in earshot.
Bebe thinks for a moment before sliding her bag off her shoulder, "Yeah, I think so," she replies, rifling through its contents at top speed, her bestie trailing her from a comfortable distance. Bebe randomly grabs a few items and pulls them out, hoping to more easily excess the depths within.
Clyde's face lights up as he takes the pink, bottled spray from her palm. He opens his mouth and presses down on the atomizer, spraying a gentle mist onto his tongue.
"Clyde, no! That's perfume!" Bebe cries, ceasing her searching once she hears the sound of stupidity occurring.
Clyde stares precariously down at the fancy, pink bottle, before he holds it back up, squirting the floral-scented concoction into his mouth once more. "Hmm…that's pretty good," he compliments, a pleased look gracing his face.
"Yeah, well, you can have the rest once you give me the five-hundred dollars for it. It's Chanel," Bebe grunts, snatching the bottle from him and defensively holding it against her chest.
"Well, clearly, she's a very gifted chef," he raves, glancing over Bebe's shoulder to stare into her bag, "Ooh! Is that pepper spray?" he asks, reaching into it.
Bebe slaps his hand away, "Will you quit trying to eat everything in my bag?" she cries, the situation attracting more of a crowd than the snoozer that is happening on the front porch.
Stan walks over, raising a curious eyebrow as he approaches with Kenny, stopping awkwardly beside Wendy, who has slowly inched over to the scene over the course of the last five minutes, "I have a feeling that's not the first time you've had to say that sentence," Stan states.
"No," Bebe answers with a sigh, "And it certainly won't be the last."
Kenny smiles, now holding up the spray that Clyde somehow got a hold of and just playfully passed to him like a football, "Hey, what is this? Is this pepper spray?" he asks, showily moving the item from side to side in his fingers.
"No, it's sour food spray," Bebe says, not even having to look up from her bag to know which item Kenny is referring to, "You're supposed to spray it on stuff that you don't want your pet to eat."
Stan frowns, "But you don't have a pet."
"Exactly, so who do you think it's for?" Bebe pauses her activities and silently gestures her head to Clyde, who is still standing cluelessly behind them. Kenny laughs in response, "It didn't work, by the way," she mutters, before scrounging through her purse once more, "Aha!" she proclaims, holding the breath spray up like it's the next messiah. She swings her purse back over her shoulder and sashays over to Craig, shaking the bottle of spray as she stops in front of him, the noirette blinking twice at her arrival. "Open your mouth," Bebe instructs, speaking with such conviction that Craig has no choice but to comply. She sprays it in his mouth. Craig grimaces, the spray pungent and tasting more like an off-flavored, dollar-store mint than a refreshing winter peppermint – as advertised.
Kenny steps forward, a devious glint sparking in his eyes as he eagerly rubs his hands together. "Wait! We gotta taste to see if it worked-"
Craig throws his hands up and quickly weaves his way through the crowd before Kenny can make a move, "Nope, nope. I'm good – thank you, everybody," he states, only slightly sarcastic, "-Not you, Stan. You didn't do anything," Craig adds, idling by his rival for a moment to deliver this dig. Stan frowns as Craig continues to walk back towards the house, where Token is still trying to unsuccessfully open the front door, Butters and Cartman on standby behind him.
Cartman's face turns bright red as incomprehensible puffs of anger start spouting out of his mouth like an enraged locomotive. "Oh my God, Token. We've been here for like fifteen years! The show's probably been cancelled by now!" he screams, his patience thinner than his sanity.
"Got it!" Token beams, snapping the lock open with a flick of his wrist. He reaches into his sparkly suit pocket and pulls out a black walkie-talkie, which has the words 'Rich Bitch' bedazzled in gold on the back. He holds down the side button. "Jimmy, I need an update on Kyle and Tweek," he buzzes.
Token moves the device closer to his ear as Jimmy chimes back the update, several jurors listening with bated breath behind the host, "Kyle is in the kit-kit-kitchen looking con-con-confused and Tweek is washing his ha-ha-arm attachments."
"Alright, thank you," Token curtly replies, pulling his finger off the button and pocketing the walkie-talkie in one smooth motion. He turns to the jury, who has now rounded up behind him, "Okay. Kyle's in the front of the house; Tweek's in the back. Everyone, arrange yourselves accordingly. We are about to go in."
Stan gulps, feeling his heart pounding frantically in his chest after carefully positioning himself right behind Kenny, near the front of the line. "You mean you keep tabs on them?" Stan questions, cowering slightly behind his friend.
Token cocks his brow, peering at Stan like he's insane (and Craig wouldn't contest to that theory!) "Of course, they're the finalists," he scoffs, "You guys are a dime a dozen, and Cartman's a freakin' hay penny, but if I lose them, there's no finale."
Stan turns to Kenny, who merely shrugs, "You asked," Kenny mutters.
Token pushes open the door and gestures all the jurors single file into the house, but all sense of order is completely forgotten the moment they walk through the doorway. Craig shoves Stan to the side and takes off towards the back of the house, Stan yelping as he harshly hits the wall. "I wasn't even in the way!" he shouts after Craig's retreating form, rubbing his injured arm with a sniff.
Clyde widens his eyes as he stares down at the carpet, immediately spying a certain something that fell out of Craig's pocket during his collision. The brunette discreetly picks it up and tucks it into his own suit jacket before giving Kyle, who just stepped curiously into the hallway, a wave.
Kenny instantly latches on to the redhead. "Whoo! Yeah! Congratulations, buddy!" he beams, pulling Kyle into an even tighter embrace.
Kyle flushes slightly, "Oh, um, thank you, Kenny."
Bebe flashes Kyle a cheerful thumbs up, before quickly following behind her bestie to the living room. Cartman and Stan awkwardly hover behind their two embracing friends, both looking like they'd rather be anywhere but here.
Finally, Kenny pulls away from the hug and takes a few steps back, putting Kyle and Stan face to face for the first time since Week 3. An awkward silence washes over the group, haunting everyone to their core.
"I uh, got your letter," Kyle speaks up, choosing to take the safe route.
"I know. I heard," Stan answers, his throat as arid as the atmosphere while he sways awkwardly on the carpet, "You look nice."
Kyle nods, the pair standing like statues as they face each other. He steps forward slightly, unsure if he should hug him or not, or if he should even continue interacting with Stan in the first place, "Thank you."
"Oh. Uh…you're welcome."
"Jesus Christ, this is physically painful to watch!" Cartman complains, hoisting himself up from his wall pout and stomping over to Kyle, stopping in front of his crush, "Kahl, you still look like a Jew, and I'm better than you. Now buy my poetry book for fifteen dollars," Cartman greets, holding his hand out for the money.
Kyle tilts his forehead, a smile actually cracking on his face. "No, Cartman."
"Well, doop diddly doo you!" Cartman cries, before stomping off to the kitchen to fix himself a snack.
Kyle turns to Kenny, his face asking a million questions.
"Token won't let us say any swears on live TV," Kenny elaborates as Butters continues to stand awkwardly between the two groups.
"Ah," Kyle coos.
A few minutes earlier, Craig is racing into the residence, his one-track mind moving a mile a minute as he searches for his love. At long last, he spots Tweek, who is unsuspectingly entering into the living room, staring at the floor. Craig bolts forward and glomps him, tackling Tweek to the carpet with a squeak. Tweek immediately relaxes when he sees who's holding him. "Aww, Craig!" he cries, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend as Craig lays on top of him. Tweek lays his hands on top of Craig's back, which is shaking like an earthquake "Babe, are you okay? You're trembling."
"I'm just really happy to see you," Craig sighs lovingly into his ear.
"I can tell," Tweek smirks, pulling back slightly and loosening his grip a bit. Tweek gazes into his eyes and gently cradles Craig's face, his pupils shining from the ceiling lights. "You look so handsome," he gushes, peppering his face with kisses before pulling him back into the warm embrace.
Craig nods, his voice muffled a tad as he talks into Tweek's shoulder, "I'm so proud of you, honey. I knew you could do it."
"Yes, you did," Tweek beams, smiling confidently as he holds him. Craig pulls his head back up, returning to his original position. Tweek cradles Craig's face once more and tenderly looks at him, "You knew it all along," he whispers.
"Tweek!" Wendy chimes, finally arriving at the scene with Bebe, their trek taking a bit longer due to the pain of having to trudge through a shag carpet in heels. Tweek slowly nudges Craig up. They steadily stand from the floor.
Wendy chuckles as Tweek quickly rearranges his already wrinkled shirt before throwing his arms up to hug her, "Wendy!" he enthusiastically declares. The former alliance duo excitedly embrace. "Oh, uh, wait. I have something of yours!" he states, stepping back slightly. Wendy watches as Tweek pulls his sleeve up, revealing her lucky pink headband wrapped around his wrist. He goes to unwrap it, but Wendy stops him.
"Nah. You keep it," Wendy smiles, delicately pushing his wrist down, "You earned it, Tweek. You're a fuckin' warrior," Wendy proclaims, turning to Token with a 'so what?' look on her face before he can scold her for using a swear. Tweek sniffs through a smile, touched that Wendy deems him worthy enough to hold this honor.
"Bebe! Wow! Look at you, you look like a runway model!" Tweek beams, quickly addressing the last member of their secret alliance.
Bebe's face lights up at the compliment, although she plays it off with a mere wave of her hand, "Oh, please, Tweek. I always look like a runway model!" she jokingly scoffs, pretentiously flipping her hair over her shoulder, "Did you get my message?"
Tweek cocks his forehead, "What message?"
"The message I wrote on the contact box," she pouts with a light stomp of her heel, "We had it preapproved by Token and everything."
"Unfortunately, he confiscated the box from me pretty quick, but we can just bug him about it over and over again until he hands it over," Tweek quips, igniting a laugh from the trio.
Bebe nods, "Sounds like a plan."
"Alright, everyone!" Token announces, loudly clapping his hands from the center of the living room, "It is time for the moment we've been waiting all season for…the final voting ceremony! Everyone, get in here, so I can properly explain how this is going to work," he instructs, pausing for a few moments to allow all the houseguests to scamper in. Tweek gestures Craig forward, who hasn't gone more than three feet away from his boyfriend since they got reunited a few minutes ago. Tweek grabs his hand. "Okay, so, this is going to be broken down into three parts. The first part is the jury questioning, the second part is the vote, and the third part is the vote reveal. Is anyone lost so far?" Token questions, staring straight at Clyde. The brunette surprisingly shakes his head no, "Good. So, for the first part, everyone will be seated in the living room. The two finalists will be situated in the two lounge chairs and all the jury members will be on the surrounding sofas. First, Kyle and Tweek will make their opening pitches to the jury, telling them why they think they are the most deserving to win the game and the $500,000 that goes along with it. The jury will then, one by one, get a chance to ask a question to one or both of the finalists. You can ask them the same question or give them different ones. Hell, you don't even have to ask a question at all – you can just make sassy comments. There's pretty much no time limit, as long as it's entertaining and relevant to the season," Token elaborates, addressing Clyde's raised hand in the process; Clyde quickly lowers it down, "After everyone has gotten a chance to address the finalists, Kyle and Tweek will each get an opportunity to make their closing remarks, then the jury will vote," he concludes with a clap of his hands, "Are there any questions?" Everyone shakes their heads, "Excellent. I'm happy that you all decided to abide by these arbitrary rules that I just made up on the spot," he sasses with a snap of his fingers. "The winner will also receive the Big Brother trampoline! Sure, it has a little bit of water damage and a raccoon family living underneath it, but hey, free trampoline!" he enthusiastically emphasizes, cueing the cricket to chirp. Token's face falls with a sigh, "Alright, fine. Everybody, take your places, and we will get started momentarily."
Clyde quickly slips over to Craig, who is following Tweek towards the coffee table. Clyde delicately nudges Craig in the side, trying to discreetly catch his attention, but Craig is so focused, he doesn't even notice. "Pst…Craig. Hey, Craig?" he harshly whispers. Clyde takes a seat down next to him as Tweek and Craig reluctantly separate once they reach the sofa, Craig sitting on the sofa end closest to Tweek's lounge chair. Craig sighs and opens his empty hand. Clyde pats him sympathetically on the shoulder, his other task instantly forgotten, "It's okay, bro."
Token smiles as he claps his hands, the setup finally complete as he stares down at the two remaining competitors. Cartman, Butters, Kenny, and Stan are sitting on the sofa closest to Kyle while Craig, Clyde, Bebe, and Wendy are sitting on the sofa closest to Tweek. "Alright, this is it. The final showdown between Kyle and Tweek, arguably two of the best players that this show has ever seen."
"Liar!" Cartman quickly hacks into his palm.
"Yes, you are," Token counters with a simper. "So, opening pitches. We're just going to go in alphabetical order. First or last name? It doesn't matter, cause it's still going to be the same order regardless. Kyle, you're first."
"Oh, thank you, Token," Kyle states as Token gives a vivacious nod and disappears into the bubble from which he came. Kyle smiles as he turns to his friends and fellow jury members, "Hey, everyone. This is absolutely insane. I never thought I would make it this far, especially not after last week. But I came into this house with a lot of emotional baggage, and I think it definitely made things tougher for me. But I'm not a quitter, and I turned things around. I made alliances, I won HOHs, I did everything I could to ensure that I would last far in this game. I know I hurt a lot of people along the way, and I apologize if you were one of them. My intention was never to hurt anybody. This is a game for $500,000, and I wanted to win, just like I'm sure all of you did too. And I had to get a lot of blood on my hands to get to where I am today. Feel free to ask me anything, I have nothing to hide, and I'll answer all your questions to the best of my ability. And I really hope, after it's all said and done, that you'll consider voting for me tonight. Thank you," Kyle concludes with a hearty exhale, feeling like he's never talked this much in his life.
Token smiles and nods, the jury scarily focused on the final two. "Good. Thank you, Kyle. Tweek, you're next."
"Okay," Tweek gulps and looks out at the crowd. His gaze lingers slightly on Craig, calming him instantly. "Hi. I haven't spoken to many of you in this intense of a setting in a long time, but I'm glad this is happening because this'll give me a chance to tell all of you where my head was at. I didn't come in here fifty-seven days ago thinking I was going to win. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I came in here content that I was going to lose – that I was going to be the worst Big Brother player that this game has ever seen. I thought I was going to be out of here Week 1 and that I was going to be a self-sacrifice for Craig. And I'll admit, I almost was. But as I went through this journey, I started to realize that I was deserving just like the rest of you. And I had as good of a shot as anyone else out here. I just needed to have confidence in my abilities, and that's something that I've struggled with my whole life," Tweek admits, looking like it pains him to say these words, "I know people came in here with a lot of preconceived notions about me: that I'm weak and that I wouldn't be able to do anything on my own. And when you hear things like that about yourself, there's really only two things you can do. You can let those thoughts destroy you from the inside out, or you can spin them into motivation to build yourself up. So, I took those perceptions and played into them throughout the game so that I could keep the target off my back. And I played in the background, and I stuck to what I believe was my strongest skillset, my ability to build relationships with others, so I never had to worry about whether my name came up or not. And it worked because I never received a single vote for eviction the two times I was on the block. There's a reason why I'm here, and it's not luck, and I hope I can prove that to you guys tonight. Thank you," Tweek squeaks, his face already sweating from the pressure.
"Wow, okay. Great job, everyone," Token praises from beside the coffee table, "It is now time for the jury questions. Up first is Kenny, and I, for one, can't wait to hear what he has to say. Kenny, whenever you're ready, there are the finalists," Token blatantly introduces, stepping back with a bow as the orange-clad man stands up and makes his way to the center of the room.
"Hey, guys! First of all, congratulations. I think you're both amazing players, and I am very happy that it came down to the two of you," Kenny proclaims, clasping his hands with a smile, "Now, obviously, I was out of the house the longest of anybody, so the answers that you give tonight are really important, so please try to answer them to the best of your ability," he advises, pausing to take a breather before turning to the finalist on the right, "Tweek, most of my questions this evening are going to be directed to you because, personally, I know Kyle's game better, and your game is still a bit of a mystery to me," Tweek nods, intently listening to his every word, "Now, I'll be the first to admit that I didn't really see you as a serious competitor until I saw your performance at the final HOH competition. You revealed so much about your game plan during the competition that I didn't even know, and not because I was the first one out, but because up until that moment, you were just so secretive about it. And I and pretty much everyone else on the jury – minus Craig – was shocked when you laid it all out. So, I want to give you the opportunity today to really tell everybody exactly what your strategy was in this game because honestly, I would really like to know. Because ever since that final HOH competition, my mind is just reeling with questions, and I'd love to hear the answers straight from the source."
"Alright," Tweek curtly nods, turning to the masses before diving into his explanation, "My strategy was actually pretty simple. I noticed early on that anyone who was perceived as strong or threatening – whether it be competitively, strategically, or socially – didn't last long. So in order for me to get further, I had to make sure that the people in power thought of me as the exact opposite of that. And I knew I had the perfect hand to pull it off," Tweek explains, narrowing in on Kenny, "Look, I knew what my reputation was coming in. I knew a lot of people were going to be focused on Craig because he has a more dominant personality, and they thought that I was going to be his puppet and be too terrified to even move. But a big part of this game is taking these preconceived notions and finding a way to use them to your benefit. I knew I wasn't anyone's number one target. I knew people saw me as weak and overly emotional. And like I said earlier, I also knew that anyone who was perceived as strong was going to be taken out immediately. So I played into the whole 'weak' narrative and built bonds behind the scenes so no one would take me out. My hope was that people would drag me along thinking that I would be an easy one to beat, only for me to steal the game right out from under their noses. When I reached the final three, all I needed to do was win, because I didn't trust either Kyle or Cartman. And let me tell you guys," Tweek speaks, turning back to the crowd at this declaration, "winning that challenge was probably the hardest thing I've ever done, especially mentally speaking. We were eight weeks into the competition. I was so tired both physically and emotionally. And it's tough when every fiber of your body is screaming at you to give up, and you're competing against the guy who spent the whole game telling you that you weren't deserving," Tweek states, veracity in his tone. Suddenly, Tweek pauses, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He blinks twice and stares back up at Kenny, his voice laced with emotion, "A lot of times when you hear something over and over again, you start to believe it, even if deep down you know it isn't true. And I hate to say it, but despite everything I had done in the game up to that point, I was seriously doubting myself that last week. But then, when I was standing there in that final HOH, death-gripping that key, it hit me. I remembered everything I did – every move, every heartache, and every struggle – and I realized that Craig was right; I am strong, and I deserve to be here."
"I agree," Kenny replies, after opening his mouth a few times like a puzzled fish, "And I also respect that you took the tougher, and in my opinion, more deserving competitor with you to the finals. Which leads me to the question that I think everyone on the jury has been wondering: Why did you take Kyle over Cartman? Because it seems to me, if you really wanted to win, you would've taken the fatass."
"AYE!" Cartman barks from the crowd.
Tweek turns back to Kenny and smiles, "So, I didn't take Cartman for two reasons: One, because of what he did to me and Craig, and two, because he was a big bully, and I didn't want to reward someone 50K for essentially being a dick to everyone."
"Right," Kenny agrees with a nod, "And no one takes out your man."
"Exactly," Tweek winks.
"So, I just have one more question for Tweek if no one minds," Kenny comments, glancing over his shoulder at the host.
Token nods and waves him on, "Go on. You're doing great, Kenny. Way better than most people on the staff thought you would."
Kenny cocks his forehead before turning back to the blonde finalist. "Okay, not sure what that means, but I'm just going to choose to take that as a compliment. Tweek," Kenny sighs, hoping to make some sense of his scrambled thoughts on the subject before he casts his vote, "watching you through this game, it seemed like you had trouble really identifying who you are. At the beginning of the game, you were very much attached to Craig and kind of playing underneath him," Kenny pauses slightly, snickering at the innuendo. He coughs and clears his throat, "Then when Craig was eliminated, you kind of latched on to Wendy. Even at the final HOH challenge, you were wearing their clothes, so my final question is: Who are you in this game?"
"I'm me. I'm Tweek Tweak, and that's why tonight I decided to dress as myself," Tweek replies, pulling at the sleeves of his classic olive-green button up, "But I think that assessment of my game is a little misleading because honestly, no one can win this game on their own, and anyone who says that they can, has never played it. You need people around you who will support you, and you need to be able to tap into that inner strength. Because at the end of the day, Big Brother is a social game. It's about the relationships that you build and the people that you step on to get to the top. I don't think you need to be a physical powerhouse to win this game; I don't think you even need to be a strategic powerhouse to win this game; you just need people who are going to root for you and who want to see you win based on how you treated them. So when people like Kyle and Cartman were scheming over how they were going to eliminate all the threats, I was forming relationships with the people they were trying to go after. And all those bonds I built were real. I don't fake relationships," Tweek states, speaking with such conviction, Kenny shivers, "So that's me; that's who I was in this game."
"Okay," Kenny steps back, seemingly satisfied by his answer, "That's all I needed to know."
"Alright. Thanks, Kenny," Token chimes, boastfully standing behind the leftmost sofa, already enjoying the show. "Bebe, you are next," Token comments, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in eager anticipation.
"Excellent!" Bebe chimes, carefully sitting up out of her seat and sashaying over to the contestants like a woman on a mission. "Hey, guys," she greets, hand on her hip like a boss, "Tweek, I am going to start by saying something that Cartman doesn't have the balls to say himself and that is that I was completely wrong about you," she states, Tweek's eyes lighting up at this supposed compliment, "I thought you were going to be an early boot, who was too scared to do anything without his boyfriend. So, when I found out that you were essentially the puppet master of the season, I almost couldn't believe it. But when I really looked back at this journey and all the time I spent with you, it all made sense. I think your 'play by perception' strategy was brilliant because no one even thought about putting you on the block during the first half of the game, and even when you were finally put up in the second half, you were used as a pawn," she raves, her earrings sparkling in the lights, "You were making moves without anyone knowing you were doing it and playing arguably the two strongest players in the house by capitalizing on their weaknesses. You used Cartman's delusion and Kyle's ego to take you as far as it could, then won your way to the finals. Regardless of what happens tonight, you should be very proud of what you accomplished."
"Thank you," Tweek nods, struggling to restrain his tears.
"Now I do have a question for both you and Kyle. My question is: Why do you think you deserve the five-hundred-thousand-dollar prize over your opponent?" Bebe asks, gesturing to the leftmost finalist, "Kyle, I'm actually going to let you go first here because you surprisingly haven't talked yet this segment."
Kyle nervously chuckles, "Thank you, Bebe. Um, I think from the very beginning, I didn't come from the best odds. I was emotionally fractured and still grieving the loss of my previous relationship. But I still prevailed, I still found a way to succeed. I definitely think I influenced the course of this game the most out of anyone. I won multiple challenges; I was directly responsible for key evictions – and everybody knew it, but I still managed to keep my threat-level low and stay off the block. And I had most of the other strategists on my side, so they would never go after me. It's one thing to play in the shadows and survive; it's other to play in the sun and still make it to the end."
Bebe nods, clearly taking in every word, "Okay. Tweek, same question. Why do you think you deserve the title more than Kyle?"
"Because I think I played this game harder than anyone, and I did it in a way no one has ever seen before," Tweek answers, as serious as someone who just confessed to murder, "I was playing around the clock. I formed genuine connections with everybody here, and I made sure that every single person who walked out of this house didn't hate me. I was loyal to those who were loyal to me, and I took this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to really dig deep inside myself and grow as a person, so that I leave here better than when I walked in nine weeks ago. I played hard and I played well, and I'm proud of that," Tweek states with a firm nod, "On the flipside, I think that Kyle had a lot of missteps along the way: the whole you vs. Clyde fiasco, the Wendy vote off. Kyle talks about how he had power, but he didn't use it as effectively as he could have," Tweek reveals, Kyle popping his eyes at this claim.
"And you're saying that you played flawlessly?" Kyle questions, already feeling rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach.
"I never said that. I just think, in terms of missteps, I didn't have any," Tweek shrugs, immediately redirecting his attention to the jury, who is just eating this drama up, "I really tried to take advantage of every opportunity I was given and created many on my own. I knew what was going on in the house because I was actually talking to people and observing what was happening. And as a person who barely sleeps and works at a crappy coffee shop, I'm pretty good at both of those skills. And I can tell you firsthand just how important observation is in this game. It revealed a lot to me. It showed me who was working together and who wasn't and who I needed to form a closer bond with to keep myself here longer. It's one thing to make moves when you are given power, it's another thing to be able to make moves when you seemingly have none. And I was able to make a lot of moves when I was just a houseguest, even while I was on the block."
Bebe smiles, basking in the game analysis. "Man, you guys are really not going to make this decision easy for me, are you?" the finalists laugh, "So, I just have one last thing I want to say, and it's directed towards Kyle. And it just kind of explains where my head's been at regarding your gameplay. Kyle," Bebe begins, clasping her hands and gesturing to him, "for most of the game, you were doing fantastic. I know you had a bit of a shaky start, but I don't fault you for that given the circumstances. Your middle game, in my opinion, was almost flawless: you won comps, you had a great social game, compelling strategy, the works," Bebe lists on, looking like she is about to dive a knife in his back at any moment, "And then Week 7 happens, and I lose all respect for you. Look, I get that this is a game, that's why I wasn't bitter when I was voted out, but to play with someone's emotions like you did – someone who experienced the same hardships that you did earlier in the game – was heartless and disgusting. And the thing is you didn't have to play that way at all. You could've just told Wendy straight up, 'hey, I'm voting for you' instead of blindsiding her at the last second. I told myself before I came here today that I was going to be open-minded and really listen to what you two have to say before I cast my vote. And that's why I'm giving you, Kyle, an opportunity to explain yourself," Kyle nods with a gulp, "Because honestly, I would feel much better about giving you my vote, if you weren't in bed with the devil the whole game." She gestures to Cartman.
Kyle sighs, Bebe's words shattering him like a wrecking ball. "This game is a constant struggle between your head and your heart, and sometimes you have to be the bad guy and make the decisions that aren't the most popular with the jury. And I found myself in that position a lot this season. That doesn't mean that what I did was okay, but in order for me to make it here, I had to send Wendy home. Looking back, I definitely shouldn't have kissed her that day, but there's nothing I can do about that now except apologize to her the next time I get the opportunity," Kyle replies with a nod, looking like he just got caught shoplifting.
"Okay. I'm good," Bebe tells Token. She walks back to her seat and sits down next to Wendy, whose eyes now hurt from all the eye rolling she did throughout Kyle's segment.
"Thank you, Bebe. Insightful as always," Token comments as he turns to the opposite raven, "Stan, you're next."
Stan takes a deep breath as he heaves himself out of his seat, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He turns to the two finalists, his face stone cold. "I just want to say something to my fellow jurors before we continue here," he states, glaring at the sofa which Bebe and Wendy are residing, "Personally, I think it's kind of ridiculous that Kyle is getting all this fleck for all these moves when Tweek played just as dirty as he did. The only difference is he wasn't man enough to do it publicly." Craig rolls his eyes, "So, take that comment how you will. Like my other fellow jurors, I'm actually going to spend most of my time talking to Tweek because honestly, Kyle's game was so crystal clear, I don't have any questions. So Tweek, the issue I have with you is that it appears as though you didn't really start playing until after Craig was eliminated, fair assessment?"
"No. I don't think that's a fair assessment at all. I was always playing, but I was more behind the scenes," Tweek elaborates, staring fearlessly into Stan's eyes, "And sure, when Craig was eliminated, I kicked it up a notch. But social strategy is very difficult to track and hard to measure, but I was building relationships and alliances that ended up helping me out in the long run since the very beginning. Coming into this game, I knew I wasn't the fastest or the smartest or the strongest, so I had to adapt and find a strategy that worked for someone like me. In this game, perception is so important. I knew if I could make myself appear weak and non-threatening to the other competitors, they would keep me around for as long as possible while I played socially in the background. I knew I could never play the game like Kyle did. I'm not a backstabby person; that's just not who I am," Tweek says, Kyle frowning at this claim, "I went into this game trying to help my friends, but you can only play the game like that up to a certain point. That point for me was when Craig was eliminated. Big Brother is an individual game, and you have to be selfish if you want to win. Halfway through, Kyle and Cartman were dominating the HOHs, so I knew I had to step things up and fall into their perception of me if I wanted to stay. Going into Week 6, I knew that Wendy and Bebe had a final two deal – they told me about it – so it didn't make sense for me to try to win the HOH competition because one, it would've made me a target and jeopardized my strategy, and two, the two of them being split was actually in my best interest," Tweek states, Bebe nodding along from the sidelines, "Of course, I felt bad; I felt bad every time I had to make a tough decision in the game. But, like everyone else, I wanted to win, and they understood that…I mean, that's one of the reasons why we're friends. We're all very determined," Bebe smiles.
"Okay, so you were nice to their faces, but secretly stabbing them when their backs were turned?" Stan questions, clearly unimpressed by Tweek's answer.
"Stan, you know better than anyone that actions mean a hell of a lot more than words do in this game," Tweek speaks, his confidence unwavering, "I formed relationships and stuck by them even when I knew we didn't have the votes to save them, just to show them that they had my loyalty. Because this game isn't over when you're voted out, it's over once Token declares a winner."
"Uh-huh," Stan mutters, still not buying it, "And do you think you had an unfair advantage going into this game because you were playing with your boyfriend?"
"Emotionally speaking, having Craig here definitely helped with my anxiety, but game-wise, it didn't help at all. Craig and I actually agreed going into this that we were going to keep our gameplay and our relationship separate, so we didn't talk any strategy, and most of the time, we didn't even vote the same, so I don't think I had an unfair advantage going into this game, no. In fact, I think it gave me a disadvantage at times. Many votes, I was having an internal struggle between my head and my heart. I wanted to protect him, but I also wanted to position myself in a good place so I could win. And having the both of us here and being the only long-term couple put a target on our backs day one."
Stan nods, although it's clear that he tuned Tweek out a few minutes ago, "So, essentially, it was difficult having your boyfriend here because you didn't want anyone to think that Craig was holding your hand every step of the way?"
Tweek shakes his head, choosing to ignore Stan's bizarre word twisting tactic and instead focusing on driving his point home, "I made every decision on my own, and I made decisions that would benefit me. And yes, even something as trivial as me covering myself with coffee during the Week 2 food competition was part of my strategy," Tweek states, speaking more to the other jury members than to what he now deems as a lost cause, "In that particular case, it was so people would focus less on my capabilities and pull through to win challenges. And after I won that final HOH after standing ten hours in the pouring rain and beating out the biggest comp beasts in the house, I think it was worth it."
"Alright," Stan coos, dramatically clapping his hands as he drifts his glassy stare to the host, "I think I'm good."
"Cool. Well, we're about halfway through, and we've already had some great soundbites so far," Token tells the masses, drooling as he thinks of those sweet, sweet ratings, "Let's keep it comin'. Donovan, you're up."
"Ooh, goody!" Clyde chimes, springing up out of his seat next to Craig. He struts to the front of the coffee table and gazes out at the two finalists. "Hey, everyone. First of all, congratulations. You should both be very proud of your accomplishments, but my only question for the evening is for Tweek. Tweek, now that you're more independent, are you going to dump Craig?" Clyde asks, an impish grin gracing his face. The entire room erupts into chuckles, minus Craig, of course.
Tweek wipes a single tear away from his eyes. "No, I am not going to dump Craig. I love him too much," he states sincerely.
"Nice. Just checking," Clyde clarifies, flashing Craig a friendly grin before diving into his spiel, "So, Tweek, day 27, you looked me in the eye, and you told me that you were going to vote for me. You knew it wasn't what I wanted to hear, but you still did it anyway. Looking back, that was the moment that I should've started seeing you as a true contender in this game. Because instead of taking the easy way out, caving into pressure, and lying to my face like a coward, you respected me enough as a player and as a person to tell me the truth. Well, now, I think it's time I tell everyone else the truth," Clyde pauses, his comment igniting a sea of bewildered faces. He steps back and turns to his fellow jury members, "As you guys all know, we all came here, into this house, on day one. But what some of you don't know is that the three of us: Craig, Tweek, and myself were actually told by Token beforehand that he was going to make this game purposely more challenging for us since we're his friends and he didn't want any of the other contestants to accuse him of favoritism. So, we were all coming into this at a disadvantage, which, to me, makes the fact that Tweek even made it to the end in the first place all the more impressive. Token purposely created HOH competitions that were catered to our weaknesses. The first and fifth HOHs were essentially Tweek's kryptonite, the first one testing stability and the latter a recipe for a panic attack, so he knew going into some of the competitions that he basically had no shot. But he still found a way to survive those weeks even without immunity, which is why I think Tweek is such a great player. Even the last and final HOH wasn't built to be Tweek's strong suit. It tested stability, something that would be nearly impossible for someone who could barely stand still in high school, and endurance, something that was really a question mark regarding Tweek going in, but he still dug deep inside himself and found a way to win when the odds were stacked against him from the start. And if you don't think that's impressive, then you need to reevaluate what that word means," Clyde stops to take a breather, the jury dead silent by Clyde's copious and surprisingly intelligent explanation. The brunette smiles and looks up at his friend, "Tweek, I told you right before I left that if you made it to the finals, it didn't automatically mean you'd get my vote. You'd have to earn it. You would have to prove to me that you played the superior game…and today, after seeing your entire game – everything you have said and done to get to this moment – I can wholeheartedly say that you have. Once again, congratulations to the both of you. And that's it, Clyde out!" he exclaims, snapping his fingers and slipping back onto the sofa, Tweek chuckling a bit at his exit.
"Clyde was a shot of sunshine, so let's bring on the salt. Wendy, you are up!" Token enthusiastically announces, gesturing with an overexaggerated wave of his hand. Kyle gulps as Wendy walks to the front of the room, the frown on her face so prominent it looks like she hasn't smiled in fifteen years.
Wendy clasps her hands together and sighs as she faces the finalists. "Before I begin, I just want to say, Kyle, I know you and I had a very tumultuous relationship in the house. I apologize if any of that came from me. I don't think you're a bad person; I really don't. And I know that you were going through a lot, and I hope that we can just put all this behind us for today and just focus on the game."
"Of course," Kyle swiftly replies, snatching it up before she can take it back, "Thanks, Wendy."
"You're welcome," Wendy chimes, the redhead still stunned that she isn't tearing him a new one, "So, game-wise, I think you did pretty well. You won a lot of the competitions; you were great at playing in the middle. The one thing that I'm struggling with is that, unlike Tweek, I don't feel like you were really in the driver's seat when it came to the big decisions," Wendy confesses, carefully articulating the thoughts that are spiraling in her head, "It seemed like most of the ideas came from either Tweek or Cartman, and you just kind of went along with what they said, even when it came down to you as the sole vote. And to me, that's the difference between a winner and a runner-up. Would you say that's a fair assessment?" she asks, cringing slightly at her mirror of Stan's words.
Kyle smacks his lips together lightly, seriously thinking this question over. "If you're talking about the decision to cut you, I mean, yeah, Cartman was the one who originally proposed it, but he wanted me to split you and Bebe way back in Week 4. And obviously, I didn't do that because I cared about you, Wendy, and I didn't want to jeopardize the relationship that we had. I let my heart get in the way, and I probably shouldn't have. But I made the decision to cut you at the final four, and that was 100% my own strategic move," he states, Cartman shaking his head and rolling his eyes at this statement.
"See? This is what sucks because it's day 57, the game is twenty minutes from being over, and you're still lying," Wendy fires, flipping the switch as anger dwells inside her, "You can't just take Cartman's idea, polish it off, then use it three weeks later and say it's your own."
"Uh, yeah, you can. That's kinda how this game works," Kyle retorts, teetering on the edge of anger and control, "It's one thing to say something, but it's another to actually do it. Cartman could've walked in here day one and been like: 'I'm going to ace every single challenge' but until he won that HOH necklace eight times in a row that statement would have no value. Actions speak louder than words, Wendy, you of all people should know that," Kyle bites, staring out at her challengingly.
Wendy scrunches her face, looking like he just pissed in her cobb salad. She crosses her arms, "So is this how you made all your strategic decisions then? You just took the ideas of others? Is that supposed to make me want to vote for you?"
"Oh, please!" Kyle cries, rolling his eyes at the ceiling, "You were never going to vote for me. You just wanted to come in here looking like the bigger person while secretly trashing me every chance you got!"
Everyone else in the room watches as the pair go back and forth for a good ten minutes, the duo getting more fired up as they combatively banter – fueled by their tenacity and the resounding need to be right.
"Uh…Token? Aren't you going to do something?" Stan wonders, hiding behind one of the couch cushions as the angry voices rage on.
Token shakes his head, "Please! This is exactly the kind of finale I was hoping for," he chimes as Cartman starts gleefully shoveling popcorn into his mouth nearby. The fatass reaches into his pocket mid-bite, takes out a camera, and snaps a photo.
"Week 3, Stan betrays you and me in one of the worst possible ways imaginable. No one ever deserves that kind of treatment – not you, not me, not even fuckin' Cartman," Wendy states, the words so heavy she feels like she's going to choke, "And I remember when I talked to you later that week, and you told me that you never wanted to be like that. You never wanted anyone to ever experience the raw humiliation that you did when you caught Stan cheating. But I guess when Week 7 happened, you just threw that promise out the window, didn't you? You become a betrayer – you embraced your inner Stan, and you stabbed a knife in the back of the same person who experienced exactly what you had been through. You became the one thing that you worked so hard to detach yourself from this whole game. All I can say is I hope it was worth it. And I hope that I'm the one vote that gives Tweek the win over you," Wendy spits, a self-gratifying look on her face.
"Oh, get the fuck off your pedestal, Wendy. You have nothing over me. You took advantage of someone who was emotionally hurting just because you wanted a boyfriend!" Kyle screams, the jury cringing at the metaphorical shots fired.
Wendy rolls her eyes, choosing to ignore his words to dig into him some more, "You know, you talk about how you're such a great strategist – but you done goofed, Kyle. Cause if you were really a great strategist, the best player in the game wouldn't be sitting right next to you!" Wendy shouts, practically screaming in his face as Kyle continues to talk over her.
Finally, after five minutes of a screaming match scarier than when Clyde got into it with the taco vendor who skimped him out on hot sauce, Token stands up and blares his foghorn, silencing the duo in a heartbeat. "Okay, okay. You guys are just going to have to agree to disagree here," Token states, hoping to act as the voice of reason, "Damn…I never knew there was so much unresolved tension between you two," the host comments, his mouth still slightly ajar with awe, "Wendy, please move on and ask something to Tweek if you need to."
"Alright," Wendy answers, a devious glint in her eyes as she turns to her former alliance member. He straightens up in his seat when they make eye contact, "Tweek, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me straight up: Am I a joke to you?" she smirks.
Tweek shakes his head, biting back a smile at their inside joke. "Hell no, girlfriend."
"Thank you," Wendy completes with a flashy bow. She swerves on her heel and takes her seat, walking by a smorgasbord of confused faces.
Token sits in silence, taking a few moments to regain his sanity before calling in the next juror. "Okay…well, continuing with the shitstorm, here's Cartman!" he announces, rubbing his aching forehead as the fatass boastfully stands up and saunters into the spotlight.
Cartman turns and flings his velvet cape to the side, eyeing the two finalists – Tweek and Kyle, the latter of whom is still steaming like a carrot. "Hello, everyone," he sinisterly coos, licking his lips like he's about to devour them whole, "I'm back. And I feel like my vote could make or break either one of you. I played with the two of you for fifty-six days, so don't you dare try to bullshit me. Kahl, you're taking the credit for my moves, dude, but you know what? That's kewl, cause I'd rather you win than Mr. Cheater Pants here," Cartman states, gesturing to Tweek, who barely raises an eyebrow at the jab, "I mean, he didn't do anything except be a fuckin' cheater! How does it feel being the biggest fuckin' cheater that this game has ever seen, spaz? I bet you feel so proud of yourself that you out-cheated the rightful winner, huh? Huh? HUH? – Oww!" Cartman cries after Craig delivers a swift blow to his arm. The fatass sniffs and rubs his fragile bicep as Craig takes his seat back next to Clyde.
Token sighs and bathes in the brief silence, "Thank you, Craig."
Cartman sniffles, his ego deflating slightly but still nowhere close to the size of a normal human's. "Anyway, I find it funny that you two can sit here and boast about your supposed brilliance when arguably everyone knows the best player of the game was yours truly. Right guys?" Cartman turns to the other jurors. Everyone is silent, including the cricket that is perched on the windowsill. Cartman clears his throat, "But because I am oh so fair, I'm not going to slam the door on you yet, spaz. I'll give you a shot, but you have to tell me why I should give you the honor of receiving my vote this evening. And really kiss my ass in your answer," he gloats.
Tweek shakes his head, "I'm not kissing your ass," he states, scary fast.
"Psh! Spoken like a true adversary," Cartman butts in with a roll of his eyes.
"You're not my adversary."
Cartman cocks his forehead, looking like someone just shit out of their mouth, "I'm not your biggest adversary?"
"No, I actually think my biggest adversary was myself. This game is a challenge mentally, and there were so many times where I had to find a way to push down those negative thoughts and keep going. I mean, I didn't even think I could win this until Week 8. But I got here, and I'm really proud of myself for it," Tweek explicates, dialed in on his game strategy.
"Quit doing that! Quit skewing what I say and making it about you – that's witchcraft!" Cartman screams, pointing at Tweek like he's the devil and he's about to douse him in Holy water, "He's a witch! Burn him!" he proclaims, holding out his Faith +1 necklace for protection.
Token facepalms, "What the hell is with this jury segment? All you guys had to do was just ask the finalists questions. Is that really so hard?"
"Apparently it's rocket science," Craig mutters from the opposite sofa, causing the host to pull his head up from between his legs and sigh.
"Cartman, do you have anything meaningful to say, or should I just move on to the next juror?"
"Do I have anything meaningful to say?" Cartman huffs, "Everything that comes out of my mouth is goddamn poetry! I even made this list of reasons why everyone on the jury should scrap their votes and vote for me instead," he claims, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a paper scroll. He unravels it, the other end rolling to the floor and striking the side of the coffee table, "Number one-"
"-Okay, yeah, it's time to move on. Security, please show Cartman to his seat," Token instructs, gesturing the two burly security guards to the center of the living room.
They trudge over, lift Cartman like he's a leaf, and carry him back to the sofa. "THIS IS BLASPHEMY, TOKEN! QUIT FEEDING LIES TO THE PUBLIC!" Cartman screams while he is carried across the carpet. Cartman grunts and voices his muffled complaints after they secure the muzzle back on.
"That thing cost a hundred dollars, but it was worth every penny," Token praises, making sure to flash the brand of the muzzle to the camera so everyone can buy one. Token smacks his lips together and turns to his leader, "Alright, Lord Sexington. Let's hear the sass."
Craig nods and says nothing as he paces over to the center of the room. He smiles as he locks eyes with Tweek for a split second, before quickly scanning over the other jurors. "There are three things, in my opinion, that make someone a great Big Brother player – and they are strategic, physical, and social dominance. And Tweek possessed them all," Craig reveals, gesturing to his boyfriend, "His strategic maneuvering to get himself to the end was insane, especially since he only won HOH once. His win at the final HOH competition was the most impressive performance we've seen all season, and that's not even counting the fact that he duped us by throwing the comps," Craig states, pointing at Tweek with a playful smirk. Tweek laughs, "His jury management was top-notch, I don't think one person on this jury – minus Cartman – had anything bad to say about him while we were in the jury house, and that includes the time before I got there," Craig adds, narrowing in on Stan on the sofa before he can open his mouth, "Not only that, but his relationships with all the evicted houseguests showed heart. Even Wendy, who he indirectly caused the eviction of, has been singing his praises since the moment she left the game. And the way Tweek played and carried himself while he was in the house only made everyone here want to root for him more. All these things take skill; all these things take a great player to pull them off, and we definitely have one, so don't be bitter, and give Tweek his credit."
"Honey," Craig breathes, clasping his hands as he smiles at Tweek, "I knew coming into this that you were a good player. The moments that I got a glimpse of your gameplay while I was still in the house only proved it. But the level that you were playing at was so far above mine that I didn't realize the extent of it until you revealed it all at the final HOH competition. I didn't know that you had ties all over the house, I didn't know that you were throwing almost all the challenges, I didn't know that you were purposely forcing ties to get information on your competitors – hell, I didn't even know you were influencing me for the Butters vote. Looking back, I'm probably the least surprised of anyone here on the jury because I always knew you were a badass. And if it wasn't obvious before, it sure as hell is now. Congratulations, babe. You are strong, and you fuckin' proved it. I love you, and I'm so proud of you, and that's all you need to know."
Tweek watches as Craig walks back to his seat, the blonde wiping a single tear from his cheek on his boyfriend's journey to the sofa. "Thank you, Craig. Butters, you are last up," Token announces, narrowing in on the platinum blonde, who is wedged between Cartman and Kenny on the center sofa cushion, "So, whenever you're ready, please deliver your speech to the jurors."
"Okey-dokey!" Butters chimes, springing out of his seat and bouncing over to the two finalists. "Hey, fellas!" Butters jovially greets with a clap of his hands, "This may surprise the both of ya, but I got nothin' to say. After hearing everything I've heard from you fellas and everyone else throughout the season, I know exactly who I'm voting for. So congratulations to that person, and I will elaborate on my reasons right before I reveal my vote. Thank you," Butters states with an awkward curtsy before flying back to his seat. Token turns to the others, blinking twice in shock.
"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that, but this season is full of surprises," Token comments while Butters laughs from the sofa, "Before we vote, I'm going to give Kyle and Tweek one last meaningless opportunity to try to sway the votes in their favor – I call it meaningless because I think it's pretty clear by now that most of the jurors already have their minds made up. But closing statements are an important part of the final voting ceremony, so Kyle, whenever you're ready, feel free to address the group," he instructs, gesturing to the redhead.
Kyle nods and turns to the masses, who are all still paying attention, "Hey, guys. I didn't get a lot of questions this evening, but I'm going to hope that's a good thing – like Stan said, and that it's because my game was pretty self-explanatory. I don't have much else to say except that I hope all of you give me a shot. I think I played really competitively and to the best of my ability. And I maintained power for most of the game, which is incredibly hard to do. So for all those reasons, I really hope you consider putting my name down tonight. Thank you."
"Alright. Tweek, closing statement. Let's go," Token snaps, hoping to move this ceremony along before Clyde falls asleep on his shoulder.
"Okay. First off, thank you, everyone, for taking the time to ask us questions, I thought they were all very good," Tweek states, before diving into the meat and potatoes of his final argument, "As you guys know, I came into this experience not thinking I had a shot. Even my own parents didn't believe in me; I had to do this all myself. It was Week 8, and no one would take me to the finals…and every week building up to it got tougher and tougher. I had to vote out friends and go up against my boyfriend. I had to watch one of the people I respect the most in the world break down in front of me," Tweek explains, gesturing to Wendy, "But I don't want you to vote for me out of pity or as revenge against Kyle, I want you to vote for me because you truly believe I earned it. And I hope after tonight that you do," he concludes, giving a confident nod to the crowd.
"Great job to the both of you. Some really good stuff there," Token notes as he fiddles with a button on his universal remote, "Alright, let's bring in the key box!" he exclaims, enthusiastically throwing his hands towards the diary room.
Everyone watches as the two hefty security guards walk into the living room. One of them is carrying a gigantic key box while the other is hauling in a pompous and, in Cartman's opinion, rather gaudy podium. The fatass whistles as the guard sets the podium in the center of the room. The podium is the same one that was at the final HOH competition, only it's been washed, refurbished, and decorated with a collage of photos highlighting all of the most memorable moments of the season.
"Wow! How many interns did it take to do that?" he asks, his muzzle long discarded and kicked under the sofa.
"Seventeen," Token gloats, leaning triumphantly back. Cartman whistles once more. "Alright, jurors," Token says once the guard gently sets the key box on the podium and quickly exits the premises with his partner, "In just a moment, I will call each of you separately to the diary room to cast your votes for a winner. When you walk into the diary room, you will find two keys sitting on the table – one for Kyle and one for Tweek. You will grab the key for the person you want to win Big Brother and put it in the key box in your designated spot, thus casting your vote. The keys have their names etched into them, so it's kind of hard to mess this up, but I'm sure some of you will find a way," Token sasses with a snap of his fingers, "Anyway, once everyone has completed this task, I will haul the box over here, and one by one, you will reveal your votes. If there is a tie, the winner will be determined by the viewers!" Token declares, dramatically holding up a shiny silver envelope. The spectators' eyes widen, flabbergasted by this twist, "Hey, they've been watching all season; they know what's going on," Token smirks, "So, if one of you could help me haul this box back into the diary room, that would be super helpful," he states, awkwardly staring out at the jurors. All at once, everyone turns in various directions, avoiding Token's gaze at all costs. "Jesus Christ, you guys are useless!" he complains.
Clyde smiles, still comically avoiding the host's gaze to circumvent any additional work, "We love you too, Token!"
Author's Note: Alright, guys. You've been reading along all season, so I want to hear what you guys think. It's time for you to tell me who you want to win this season of Big Brother and the $500,000 prize that goes along with it: Kyle or Tweek. Feel free to review below with your pick or vote on the poll on my profile page. The winner will be revealed next week, and if it comes to a tie, the viewers will have the deciding vote! Thank you guys so much for all your participation throughout the season. It means so much to me, and I hope you all have an amazing week! :D