20 - "Enjoy Every Sandwich"

Author's note: It occurred to me a few years ago that I could have made this an ongoing story, updated once a year, tracing Kenny and Butters' relationship as it developed over the eight years since chapter one. This year, I finally decided to at least take the first step to make it happen. Hopefully I'll update this again next year.

By the time Kenny had lit the twentieth candle on the birthday cake, the first one had burned half-way down to the chocolate frosting. He looked up at Butters and smiled. "I wasn't sure I was gonna make it there for a minute. Now: Think of a wish and blow them out. Better hurry though; that first one is about to set the cake on fire!"

"I already know what I wish for," Butters replied and leaned forward on the couch to blow out the candles, his head swiveling from right to left as he swept a stream of air over the cake, blowing out the shortest one first. When he finally sat back triumphantly a moment later, all twenty candles were sending lazy spirals of smoke toward the ceiling.

"Well done!" Kenny said, reaching out to remove the shortest candle from the cake before the still-melting wax could reach the frosting. His attention was once again drawn to the tee shirt Butters was wearing, one he had never seen him wearing before, and knew he's be asking him about it soon.

Butters began plucking candles from it as well, and said, once the frosting had twenty pencil-sized holes in it: "It's a beautiful cake, Kenny. You really made this yourself?"

"Well." Kenny laughed. "I bought all the ingredients...and the candles. But yeah, I mixed them all together and baked them. Except for the candles; I stuck them on afterward."

Butters sat back, laughing too hard to speak for a moment. "Th- that's what I meant, Kenny," he finally managed. "It looks delicious though, thank you!"

Kenny picked up the plastic knife he'd found for Butters to cut his cake with, and then stopped. Butters' eyes were questioning him. "Dude," Kenny said. "We can have cake in a minute. But first: You've got to tell me about that shirt you're wearing. There's a story behind it, isn't there?"

Butters looked down and used both hands to stretch out the black shirt he was wearing, stretching out the graphic on it so they could fully see it. It was a slightly blurry picture of a man printed with green ink, who looked like an older hippie, with round John Lennon glasses and a scruffy beard and a kind face. Beneath him were the words: Enjoy Every Sandwich.

"Well, Kenny, this man–" He pointed at the graphic on his shirt. "...was Warren Zevon. Jimmy told me about him a few weeks ago. He was a singer, songwriter...his most famous song was called 'Werewolves of London."

Kenny laughed. "I know that song!" he said, and then began singing the chorus. "Ah OOOO! Werewolves of London!" Butter joined him in the next line, his voice hitting a surprisingly deep tone as his voice merged with Kenny's. "Ah OOOO!"

They trailed off, smiling happily at each other.

"Anyway," Butters went on. "He was also a friend of David Letterman's...you know, the talk show host guy?" Kenny nodded, and Butters continued. "He was on his show a bunch of times...and filled in for the orchestra conductor a few times, when he was on vacation or had to be away or something..." Kenny nodded, fascinated by the story Butters was telling him.

"And...later in his life, he was diagnosed with lung cancer." Kenny winced; he'd already suspected this story Butters was telling him was going to take a tragic turn. "And he went through treatment...but the doctors eventually told him that he was going to die."

"Oh," Kenny whispered. Butters pulled him closer and kissed his cheek.

"Anyway," Butters went on, making sure Kenny wasn't about to cry. "On his last appearance on the Letterman Show before he died..." Butters suddenly choked up, but carried on. "Dave asked him: 'What's the most important thing you learned from this whole experience?' And Mr. Zevon replied that 'the most important thing I learned from this whole experience was to enjoy every sandwich.'"

Butters took the knife from Kenny and began cutting into the cake. "I...I guess I kind of wore this shirt as a tribute to the almost 3,000 people who were alive twenty years ago yesterday, who...weren't alive twenty four hours later. On the same day I was born."

Oh God, Kenny thought. "Oh, geez, Butters," he said, reaching out an arm even as Butters was already moving closer to lay his head against Kenny's chest.

Kenny pulled Butters against him, prepared to wipe away tears with his fingertips, but this year Butters wasn't crying...at least not yet. Butters looked up at him adoringly and smiled.

"It gets a little better every year, Ken," he said. "I think everyone should enjoy every sandwich, and every day, the way I try to..." He ducked his head, and Kenny wondered if there were tears he'd be wiping away soon that Butters was trying to hide from him.

They sat quietly for several minutes, Kenny still trying to read Butters' mood, and if he was crying or not. He finally said: "I love you, Leo. Y'know: I–" He faltered, suddenly lost for words, finally coming up with, "Ah, you know...I hope you and I are together for the rest of our lives."

He felt Butters stiffen above him, and hoped he hadn't said something wrong. Butters dug his fingertips into the muscles of his back and tickled his sides as he pulled away from him to study him for a moment. His smile let Kenny know he hadn't said anything bad after all.

"Kenny!" Butters said, almost admonishingly, and the look in his eyes let Kenny know at once that all was well. What Butters did next wasn't completely surprising. He pulled his shirt over his head and set it on the couch beside him, and rested his head on Kenny's chest again. Kenny ran his fingers over the back of the person he loved, waiting for Butters to say something, which he did a moment later.

"How did you know that was what I wished for when I blew out my candles?"

THE END