So, I wanted to post something today, considering I turned 26 today, and I figured since this was a song I've been wanting to write a story inspired by, I'd pick this one. It's an old favorite of mine.

Song: "Picture" by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or the song that inspired this story.

Most people would've thought that if Kenny McCormick spent his time as an adult banging a different girl every night, while snorting tons of cocaine and drinking tons of whiskey, that it would be exactly how he would've wanted his life to be. And that would've been the case when he was eight, but now he was twenty-three, and living life like this - as thrilling as it was - felt rather… hollow to him.

Three days, Kenny McCormick had been cooped up in this cheap hotel, not leaving to even go to the store. It had nothing to do with the ongoing pandemic. He was fully vaccinated, and got his shots regularly. The virus had only killed him twice. No, he just realized how dull his life had been lately. Ever since she'd broken up with him, it's been the same shit, and it got redundant after a few weeks, so by the time several months had passed, cocaine, hoes and whiskey just didn't do it for him anymore.

Kenny sat up in bed, Bebe Stevens laying next to him because this oneshot is in no way linked with the first one in this anthology. He looked on the bedside table with two drawers on one side of it at a picture of him standing next to her - the jet black-haired girl wearing the pink beret with the purple jacket. That picture was one of the rare times he wore his orange parka and had the hood down. He had his hair in a spiky style back then. He couldn't believe he thought that look was cool. Since he was ass naked currently, his face was visible, revealing his hair was combed back. He wondered if the woman in the picture still looked the same as she did back then. He heard Bebe groan as she rolled over, stretching her arms. Kenny picked up the picture and opened one of the drawers on the bedside table, dropping it in, and then closed it before he laid back down, caressing the naked Bebe Stevens he was in bed with, tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't look at that picture when he was in bed with someone else.

Elsewhere, at her ex-boyfriend, now boyfriend again, Stan Marsh's house, Wendy (who still looked the same, except her beret wasn't on, and she had bedhead currently) tried calling her more recent ex once again. His phone went straight to voicemail. The two had talked occasionally after their breakup, but for the past three days, Wendy had wanted to call Kenny because she missed him more than she thought she would since things ended. Stan didn't give a shit about her as an adult. Anytime she talked about her problems to him, he just responded with a simple "Oh," or "I see," and recently, she finally decided to ask him to repeat what she just said and he couldn't. He was a sociopath, and not even one that listened to her. Kenny usually spent the majority of his time with Wendy staring at her boobs, but he did at least listen to Wendy.

Everyone in the neighborhood knew Wendy wasn't happy with Stan. They didn't tell him however because she wasn't one to cheat, so she wasn't taking advantage of Stan, and he may have been a sociopath, but he didn't cheat on Wendy (yet - as a sociopath obviously doesn't care about their partner's feelings, so they'd probably do it eventually).

Wendy reached into the drawer on her own bedside table, which oddly enough was exactly the same as the one at the hotel Kenny was in, and pulled out a bottle of cheap wine. She figured she'd just drink her heartache away. She raised the bottle with the tip of it in her mouth. Empty.

Wendy sighed. Fuck, she silently complained. She then looked on the bedside table and saw the same picture Kenny had on his. They had two of the same picture printed out so they wouldn't feel separate when they were apart. Now they were apart - and it was still having that effect on her at a time it probably shouldn't have. Waterfalls escaped from Wendy's eyes. She then heard Stan talking in his sleep. "Yeah, whatever, you fat bitch… I said I have a bad itch…" Wendy sighed and placed the picture in the drawer, before closing it and laying next to Stan. She couldn't look at it while lying next to him.

The following morning, Wendy was headed to the store, and Kenny was by himself at the bar in the hotel, drinking a cup of Jack Daniels. He was planning to drink his feelings for Wendy away. Didn't work. It never fucking works.

Kenny then went back to the room and opened the drawer in the bedside table because that's where he kept the remote for the TV. The remote was probably underneath what he instead found - the picture. Kenny pulled it out of the drawer. Small tsunamis began to form in his eyes. He then picked up his cell phone and turned it on for the first time in three days and saw there were five missed calls from Wendy. Kenny decided that he was done with snorting cocaine and banging as many whores as he wanted.

Wendy heard her phone ring in her pocket. She pulled it out and quickly pressed the answer button, upon seeing who it was. "Kenny!?"

"Wendy, I just called to say… I love you. Come back home, please…" Kenny didn't sound very enthusiastic, as he'd been so depressed lately.

"Come pick me up," Wendy replied happily, before turning around to head back to Stan's house and gather her things.