::Sneaker's SnacShak – Double-Crosses on Hot Standby::

By the end of the day, more than three dozen kids had gathered to help out with the raffle. Kenny didn't even know all of them, some of them being from different grade levels, but that didn't matter. What mattered is they were all in on the scheme; a scheme that involved saying they were all here to put Eric Cartman's name on multiple entries, but when it came down to the doing it would be little miss Karen McCormick who ended up with all those extra slips in the proverbial hat. The sight of the crowd following after Dee, or, as Kenny tended to think of her using her actual name, Alyssa, was something that gave him a thrill of excitement- a hope that maybe luck would come down on his side this time.

At the same time, he tried not to get his hopes up. Particularly not in front of Cartman.

Speaking of... Eric seemed lacking in enthusiasm as Alyssa presented her gathering of kids to the supposed ringleader of this operation. The guy hadn't even managed a smile in the locker bays as everyone packed out their shit before heading to the buses. No, he wore a pensive frown that had no interest in engaging in the world around him; a sort of dead-eyed thousand yard stare that only seemed to mildly recognize that Dee had co-operated with him for the first time since the new school year had started... if, in a subversive manner. Not that he knew that. Yet.

All the while, Kenny found himself the subject of the occasional jealous glance from Cartman.

Kenny, like all the other kids in their grade, had been assigned one of the mechanical nightmares when he'd gotten to his science hour for the day. His lab partner was a girl named Samantha, Sammy for short, who offered to take care of the thing over the weekend if he'd handle it today and on Monday. With the specter of Karen's birthday hanging over his head, he didn't even haggle to try and get possible homework duties on the table; he just agreed to her first offer and traded Facebook Messenger information so they'd be able to set up a place to trade off the little 'bundle of joy' tomorrow morning.

The thing had cried while they were on the bus, riding it to the stop that dropped nearest to the South Park mall so their small mob of kids could get this done as expediently as possible. He was in his usual seat; wedged in next to Cartman, who had stared incredulously as he went through the entire process of figuring out what kind of care the doll currently needed while stuck against the window with minimal space to maneuver. Once he realized what he needed to do, he couldn't help a bit of grumbled cursing; preforming a diaper change on a doll had felt stupid enough during class. Doing so in the middle of a crowded bus added a layer of frustration on top that took all the silly out and just made the experience embarrassing. He wished he had some kind of predictor so he could plan ahead, and not end up gripping a tiny facsimile of an infant between his legs while trying to wipe it the right way to get it to stop crying.

During the struggle, Eric had leaned over and lent a hand. He held the doll steady so Kenny didn't have to worry about it flying off his lap if the bus went over a particularly hard bump.

The helping hand had not been expected. Seeing one of Cartman's yellow gloves come in had nearly made Kenny swat the guy away on pure reflex, suspecting sabotage. However, once the doll was secured and the job was done, the two boys shared a glance, and Eric audibly sighed over the noisy din.

"I don't get you, Kenny- we've been friends for a long time, right?"

Oh boy. Where are you going this time, dude?

Despite the thought, Kenny shrugged faintly while re-dressing his doll. The baby was coded male by its tiny plastic penis and pastel blue onesie. Some additional outwear had been provided in class, so the doll had blue winter pants and a green jacket, as well as a set of white shoes to put back on. Thankfully, Kenny had a bit of practice dressing dolls; thank you Karen. "Yeah, pretty much forever. Why?"

"You've had a bunch of girlfriends all over the place- long distance, in town, casual, crazy; how do you... how come it seems no one's ever hurt you? You've never told me about break-ups or backstabbing bullshit- do you just... love 'em and leave 'em, or is there a trick I'm not getting? Heidi got under my skin, and now I don't know how to get her out- what the fuck is wrong with me?"

Dude, the list of what isn't wrong with you would be shorter. Kenny almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. For Eric to actively and out-loud question if something was seriously messed up inside himself was something of a revelation... now if only it wasn't wrapped up in seven layers of self pity and manipulation tactics to force a friend into giving advice whether they had something good to say or not. There wasn't enough time on this bus-ride for Kenny to even try to explain to Eric how different their situations were; from the fact that Kenny mostly ended up dating girls who were also in the lowest income bracket and took their thrills and spills as they came, to the very specific quirk of most of his relationships ending because he'd died in some manner and left the girlfriend he'd had at the time thinking he had ditched them.

Huh. Minus Lyssie; she's middle class and has hung on through the immortality-amnesia-bullshit... sure, we've been through hell and back together, but why is she with me?

Internal thoughts aside, Eric was still staring at him, waiting for some kind of answer, looking the very picture of genuine desire to know how the hell to move on from his current mess... and as much as Kenny doubted that, it was really hard to say fuck off when Eric had the plaintive kitten eyes turned up to maximum.

"Shit happens, dude- every bitch I've dated, she's her own person, and I'm my own person. Shit doesn't sync up all the time, and when it hurts you let it go. You don't keep your hand on a hot burner, you yank it away because that shit fucking hurts."

It wasn't what he wanted to hear. Big eyes remained, but Eric's brow was coming down, his mouth forming into a crinkled frown like a year-old candy wrapper found forgotten in a pocket. "But it wasn't bad all the time! She's acting like being with me nearly killed her-"

"Didn't being with her feel like it nearly killed you? You threatened to kill yourself every time you guys broke up, and then when she finally left you... the whole town was there, dude. We all saw what happened. It was a fucking mess. She doesn't wanna go back to that. Do you?"

"I'm not trying to go out with her again, I just want her to TALK TO ME!"

Eric's volume spiked, and it was as if sliding his own voice up to eleven turned everyone else on the bus down to a one; kids in the nearby radius went quiet as Cartman shouted, and heads all the way at the front of the bus twisted around to see what the heck was going on. The tension seemed to grip Eric for a second as he half-way stood up from his seat to shout at prying eyes, but then he appeared to think better of it and settled his butt back down with a faint redness to his cheeks.

When he spoke next, it was a murmur.

"... she won't even let me see the baby, Kenny. She said if I went to her house, she'd break my legs. She means it- after everything, Heidi only says what she means. I..."

Kenny blinked. Was Eric crying?

Holy shit he's actually got the waterworks going.

"I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl, or what Heidi named it- it's our baby and I don't even know it's name. How unfair is that?"

Dude, you are way too attached to a plastic doll with sensors and the ability to cry.

"She didn't even ask me, y'know? She just decided, and nothing I said made a difference... there was no reasoning with her! I know... I know motherhood is special, and it makes girls irrational and protective, that's the mommy instinct kicking in, but.. but... she didn't have to be so cruuu-u-u-le!"

Crying had become more pathetic, Eric all but wailing that last word as he wiped his eyes and hastily sniffed. Worse, for some reason what he was saying made a really strange kind of sense. Even if the dolls were fake, they were assigned to groups who were equally responsible for the care. It was like watching the fallout of an unexpected baby from a couple that parted on bad terms before they realized they were pregnant... and that was something that resonated with Kenny. In the shitty part of town he lived in, it was one of the most common reason people got married- not 'cause they liked each other all that much, but because their was an oops kid to think about. Young couples would get together, go wild sexually, and then fall apart emotionally, and then end up hitched anyway because of a positive pregnancy test. Shot-gun weddings all around.

And then beat the shit out of each other in front of their kids for the foreseeable future.

… Shit, what if Lyssie thinks I'm gonna grow up to be like them? If Stan's right and all the girls are paying attention to this project, and I fuck it up, I am so screwed. We're not even fucking yet- I have literally nothing else to offer besides existential dread about the nature of mortality. Who the fuck wants to stick with that?!

Insecurity hit him all at once. What had been a crack in the dam in the form of mild concern became an all-consuming flood of worry. He needed to check in with Alyssa later, and find out what she actually thought about all this shit. If he didn't, he was going to tie himself into knots like Eric, and being like Eric was never a good thing.

For now, he needed to placate Cartman. If the kid didn't get something by being pathetic, he was going to escalate, and nothing was going to ruin this weekend if Kenny could at all help it.

"Dude, calm down. I'll see if Heidi will talk to me, okay?"

Or someone I know. Probably Butters. They seem to be friends.

Eric sniffed hard, wiping his face with his forearm. "R-really? You mean it? You can't be too obvious! She'll get mad; she's scary when she's mad..."

God you could not be playing the victim any harder here, could you?

"Don't worry about it, Eric. I've got your back; I'm not a miracle worker though. I'm not promising anything." Best to temper expectations now, though he doubted that would help all that much. Terrible as the thought was, he needed to start calculating a plan B that involved a scapegoat. If he couldn't delay Eric going into full rage mode beyond Sunday, he'd need to re-direct the kid away from himself and his sister.

"No, no, I know, I know-" Another snotty sniff, and Cartman managed a smile beneath tearful eyes. "It... it means a lot that you'll try, Kenny. You're my best friend. I mean that- you're the best."

The disturbing part is I think you really believe that.

"Hey, Dee, dude? Can I … talk to you for a second?"

Clyde had been firmly attached to Butters and Dee since the assignment of the project this morning, flanking the short red-head wherever possible while taking his turn with the baby. With Dee's lack of enthusiasm for speech, it had been up to himself and Butters to name the bundle of joy, and the pair of them had decided that Izzie was a good and simple pick for the course of the project for the little faux girl... based in part by the number on her foot being I22.

Maybe not the most creative, but it wasn't like the name was part of their grade; it just made her easier to refer to.

Either way, this attachment had extended after school, when Dee had texted him about the raffle Sneaker's SnacShak was holding for their grand opening. Clyde had been thinking about entering for himself, but hearing about the plight of Karen, and the fact that this would in some way fuck over Cartman, he'd agreed with it as readily as all the other kids who had joined the group. Every kid deserved at least one solid birthday party, in his opinion; maybe this good deed would come back and reward him later in some way. Karma and all that stuff. Then again, if he believed in Karma he had to assume he had a lot of bad Karma built up from lying about his age on naughty websites, so maybe this was less about rewards and more about offsetting incoming bad ju-ju.

Whatever. It gave him an excuse to stick close to Dee without raising any eyebrows for existing outside his usual gang of dudes. He had his own reasons for joining up with his group, besides Butters' solid track record when it came to projects... but it would appear Kenny was slipping in to borrow Dee just as their mob of middle-schoolers entered into the main atrium of the mall.

"Somethin' wrong?" Butters questioned, eyebrows raising as Dee easily slipped from between them, shrugging his willingness to step away as the gaggle of adolescents began to crowd up in front of the Christmas Tree the mall had set up now that Thanksgiving was over with. There were signs all over the place, advertising photos with Santa and the like, and Cartman was taking the lead of the group to direct everyone to where the raffle sign-ups were in the mall. Apparently the rep from the new pizzeria had set up in the food court.

"Nah, just weekend stuff." Kenny assured, both arms occupied with holding his baby the way the teacher had shown them; ensuring support of the head. "Just, real quick, over here?" He asked, motioning with a nod away from the crowd.

"They seem... really close." Clyde observed as Dee and Kenny veered sharply off course to leave the horde, escaping the crush of kids as they began to move.

"Yeah, they're good buddies." Butters agreed warmly. "Do you want me to hold Izzy? You've had 'er all day."

"Nah, I'm good." Clyde smiled, double-checking his grasp. There were a number of girls from their grade in this group; he had a vested interest in them seeing him doing a good job. "But really, they seem... really close. Like gay close."

All at once, Butters tensed. "W-Well, just because they're close don't make 'em like that. Stan and Kyle go off disappearing all the time together, an' no one thinks they're like that."

"Some of the girls do." Clyde noted with a shrug. "The girls have a lot of theories on who might be gay or bi- they've even got organized wagers with odds based on their lists."

"Whoa, really? Wait, how do you know?" Butters quested, eyes going a little wide, the mob passing by shops with lights and signs and all else advertising Christmas sales to the point that an epileptic might be able to sue. "The girls keep all those lists and stuff a secret."

Clyde took a pensive moment, looking back and forth to ensure they weren't being listening to by anyone near-by in the mob. Then he motioned Butters to get a little closer. The blond boy obliged with an equally pensive glance back and forth, although he had no idea what they were looking out for. Conspiratorially leaned together, Clyde spoke lowly to avoid eavesdroppers.

"The girls have a betting pool on who is gonna come out as what and when. Dee's got the longest odds because no one knows anything about him. I've got someone who's willing to share the winnings with me if I can find out the what and the when for them, and because of the odds the payout is gonna be huge. Like... every girl's allowance for the last three months, huge."

"Whoa..." Butters murmured, his eyes going wide, no doubt imagining how much someone might get if they won the whole pot. "Why're you tellin' me?"

"Because, numb nuts, if you help me find out, I'll share some of my cut with you."

Butters blinked, and then frowned, pulling away and shaking his head. "Sorry Clyde- that's a mighty tempting offer, but Dee's my friend, and he trusts me, an' his personal info ain't for sale."

"Not even for Heidi's phone number?" Clyde didn't give up. His contact had given him some ideas for how to rope Dee's friends in. "I could set you guys up. There's more up for grabs than money, Butters. You could have a real date for the next school dance, instead of coming in some lame dude group."

That seemed to strike him. Butters hesitated, lips puckering for a second. They were approaching the food court; the smell of cheap fast food signaling that this mob of people was nearing its goal.

"A lot of the girls are still pissed with you from fourth grade, y'know." Clyde pointed out. "This could buy a lot of good will with my contact if she knew you helped, and she could help change public opinion about you."

Butters began to chew on his lower lip, pensive as light blond eyebrows came down, thinking it over. Then, all at once, something seemed to click in to place.

Clyde was certain.

I've got him. This is gonna be a cakewalk.

::The Author's Corner::

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUN

Clyde ain't the brightest bulb in the box... then again, Butters is occasionally vulnerable to temptation. We'll see who won this round later ;3

A reminder that this series of stories has a Tumblr, and I've recently been writing little ficlet things on there that take place between stories. It's mostly little fluffy things, and none of it has any impact on the plot at large, but if you're thirsty for more Mysteributt it might give ya just what you're hankering for. Google JustCallMeButtlord and Tumblr and my page should come right up.

Secondary reminder that feedback is endlessly welcome, and that pumping up the number of reviews here on Fanfiction is a great way to help me attract new readers who might otherwise scroll right past this series. Even the smallest bit helps! Thank you for your support and readership!

ONWARDS!

-Buttlord