"Are we r-r-rolling?"

"Jimmy, this is a digital videocamera. There's no rolling. There's no film to roll!"

"Sh-shu-t the fu-uhh-uck up, Kevin!" Jimmy blinked a few times. He tapped the wireless mic in his hand. Kevin simply shook his head. "Uhh…we'll fix that in p-post."

Kevin chuckled as he zoomed in slightly to improve the shot, adjusting it so that Jimmy was better placed in the frame.

"Okay, ready? Aaand-" He pointed his finger silently at his friend.

"Welcome to Park County High Super School News, video edition! This is your host, senior journalist Jimmy Valmer! It's that time of year again here in Park County. The sun is out, the snow has long melted, and it's a brand new school year. Can I get a wh-what-what for the Senior Class of 2018?"

Jimmy smiled at the camera and posed, waiting for Kevin to respond.

"Umm…what-what?" he awkwardly replied behind the camera.

"That's the kind of enthusiasm that we have here at Park County High!"

Kevin had to stifle his laughter. Jimmy was a pro in front of the camera, especially at the "fake it until you make it" technique of pretending that everything is better than it is.

"With the dawn of the new school year," Jimmy continued, "comes everybody's fa-favorite American pastime, football! And here behind me, we have the 2017 Colorado State Division 2-A runner ups, your Park County Bulls!"

Jimmy stepped back and lifted his arm to point his crutch behind him, his forearm and bicep subtly flexing as he did. His arms had become quite strong and defined once he hit puberty. Having to carrying your own body weight day in and day out does that to a person. It was a favorite activity of his to challenge people to arm wrestling contests. His friends only fell for it a few times before they decided they'd rather be his hype men when he set up shop at the food court in the South Park Mall, attempting to swindle some of the town's many idiotic adults out of their petty cash.

Kevin zoomed in his Panasonic HC-V770 that he'd received for his birthday past Jimmy and focused on the human bodies crashing into each other in the distance behind them. The sound of young men grunting as they hurled themselves at one other rang clear across the field. The Bulls' star Quarterback, one Stan Marsh, took a few steps back and bounced on the balls of his feet as he searched for his target. Once he spotted him, he reared his arm back through his shoulder and launched the ball forward. The ball spun beautifully through the air until it was caught by the team's Tight End, Clyde Donovan. Clyde twisted his body around and ran the few remaining yards into the end zone. An eruption of cheers came from the coaching staff and a handful of loyal fans peppering the sidelines. Clyde threw the ball into the dirt and ran into the arms of his friend and teammate, Running Back Token Black. They spun around once before Token placed him down and smacked Clyde's ass in the bizarre tradition of the sport.

"Fuck yeah, baby!" Clyde yelled as he ran back to the 50-yard line. "We're going to make this season our bitch!"

The three seniors engaged in a jumping group hug in the middle of the field.

"This year, we're taking the state championship!" Token yelled.

"Yeah! We Bulls are gonna fuck all the other teams in the ass!" Stan added.

Jimmy turned back to the camera, a slightly stunned expression melding uncomfortably with the pleasant grin of an on-screen television personality. Kevin gave him a similarly awkward look in return, his nose scrunched up and his lips pursed.

"Sooo…let's edit that in post, too," Kevin suggested.

"G-good id-dea." Jimmy scratched his head. "Okay, so let's cue in again and we'll he-head over there."

Kevin lifted up his hand, fingers spread out, and put one finger down at a time as he counted Jimmy back into filming.

"There's a lot of hype around this season's team, especially around seniors St-Stan Marsh, Token Black, and Clyde Donovan. They had a solid season last year, but they're back now and stronger than ev-ev-eeh-ever! Can they take the team all the way to the promise land? We can only wait and watch with bated breath! Let's go over there and see if we can talk to the star players about their thoughts! Come on!"

Kevin continued to film a few seconds of B-roll before he paused the recording. The two teens made their way across the field as the head coach, Mr. McKay, called out for a thirty minute lunch break. When they arrived at the sideline, their attempt to get close to the three football players was thwarted when a thick student in a button up shirt and tie stepped in front of them.

"Going somewhere, gentlemen?"

"Eric, dude, cut it out," Kevin sighed.

"I don't see your media passes. I can't just be having anybody try to get close to my players. Who knows what could happen? You could be crazy stalkers who want to make and wear a suit of their skin!" The years had not made Cartman any less fond of using hyperbole.

"Da-dammit, Eric! This isn't fu-fucking Silence of the La-laaa-lambs! We need interviews with them for the school's video yearbook and for the f-first issue of Super School News!"

"You need them, huh? Hmm…I think we could negotiate a price for their time."

"WHAT?" Jimmy and Kevin exclaimed in unison.

"Look, gentlemen, I'm running a business here!"

"No you're fucking not! You're just the student team manager! You're not the fucking owner of a professional team!" Kevin was livid.

Stan, Token, and Clyde took note of the argument happening near them and made their way over.

"Hey Eric, we got this," Stan said, patting Cartman on the shoulder.

"If you say so, guys. But if they start eyeing your skin, kick their asses, okay?" Eric marched away to help hand out water and sandwiches with the coaching staff.

"What's up, guys?" Stan patted a towel around his collarbone before taking a seat on the bench beside him.

"We were wondering if we could get some quotes for the first issue for the year and some footage for the video yearbook," Jimmy replied.

"Yeah, we've got time for that," Token nodded. He took a seat next to Stan, catching a sandwich that was tossed at him by Cartman.

"Okay, ready to start filming again, Kev?"

"Yup, ready in five, four, three…" He used his fingers to silently finish the countdown before pointing to Jimmy.

"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, with the senior star players of your Park County Bulls football team! Quarterback Stan Marsh, Running Back Token Black, and Tight End Clyde Donovan!"

Each boy waved at the camera as his name was said, until they reached Clyde who looked at the camera with a mouthful of turkey sandwich.

"Hhrm?" His eyes widened when he realized that they were filming and he choked down the large bite. "Oh shit!" He coughed a few times before tossing the sandwich to the side and placing his hands on his hips. He cocked his head back and winked at the camera. "Hey, what's going on?"

Jimmy kept up his professional integrity and continued to smile through the awkward comeback.

"So fellas, who's the captain this season?"

The three boys looked at each other and smiled. "Actually, Jimmy, all three of us are co-captains," Token replied. "They usually have two co-captains, but Coach McKay couldn't decide between the three of us, so he figured one more captain couldn't hurt."

"Yeah, especially because we work so well together on and off the field," Stan added.

"We're like a well-lubed machine!" Clyde slapped Token on the back as he looked fondly at his friends.

"Uh…the phrase is usually well-oiled machine, Clyde," Token laughed.

"Oiled, lubed, either way it means things run smoothly, if you know what I mean." Clyde gave another wink to the camera.

"Dude, you do know this will be in the video yearbook that parents will see, yeah?" Stan laughed.

"Oh really? Uh…well…then they'll definitely know what I mean," he winked yet again.

"Alrighty, moving on the-then…" Jimmy tried to segue into another question. "How does the team's starting lineup look this season, based on what you've seen so far during the past week of preseason training camp?"

"Our defensive line is looking fantastic this year, so far. That was where a lot of our weaknesses were last year, especially in the playoffs. We did manage to make it to the championship, but our defense just wasn't strong enough to hold off Bayfield." Jimmy nodded as Token spoke.

"That's definitely true," Stan continued. "Also a lot of fans were worried that our offensive line would suffer with the graduation of some of last year's strongest players, but the people taking their spots have been working really hard since last season to be the best they can be."

"Last but not least, there's us," Clyde laughed. "I think this will be our year to cement our high school legacy, how about you, boys? Token broke his personal record for a 50-yard dash over the summer, so he is ready to grab that ball and shoot down the field like a rocket." He grabbed his long-time friend by the shoulders and shook him as he overflowed with excitement. "Stan's accuracy with his throws has gotten scary. Like, if there was ever a zombie apocalypse, just give him all of the grenades and I think we'll be fine."

Stan chuckled at his friend before taking lead of the interview. "Then we have this guy right here," he pointed his thumb at Clyde. "He spent the last year really hitting the gym and working on agility training, so you're going to want to watch out for him. He's like a freaking army tank with a Ferrari engine." Clyde flexed and posed for the camera as Stan handed out the compliments. "Clyde is a beast when he tackles and a mosquito when he ducks and dodges between the other players so that he can catch what I send his way."

"Aww shucks, Stanny, you're too kind." He batted his eyelashes playfully.

"That being said, he still loves Taco Bell and Chipotle way too much," Stan continued.

"Yeah, we can't seem to get rid of this squishy midsection," Token agreed, much to the chagrin of Clyde.

"Hey!" he cried out as his teammates began to poke at his stomach, soon lifting up his practice jersey to show the camera. "Quit it, dicks!"

Jimmy and Kevin tried their best to not join in with Token and Stan's laughter, but they couldn't help letting out a few titters. Jimmy cleared his throat and faced the camera.

"Well, you heard it hear, folks! It sounds like we have quite the season of football to look forward to. Now, let's go ch-check in on the students who always know how to get the party started, the Park County High Cheerleaders!"

"Aaand cut," Kevin spoke right before pausing the camera. "Uh, thanks guys. That was a very…interesting interview. I can definitely use a lot of the footage."

"Please don't make me look like an idiot, Kev," Clyde pleaded.

"I can't promise that."

"Noooo…!" Clyde flopped down onto the bench next to Stan and picked his sandwich back up. "Ah well, it doesn't matter if I look like an idiot or not, I'm still really awesome, so I don't think it will fuck up my super school rep." He took another big bite. "I'm still hot shit."

Jimmy and Kevin thanked the three young men for their time and headed inside into the school gymnasium. They were greeted by the sight of fifteen students practicing some tumbling exercises and lifts on green and white mats. The assistant coach waved them over when she caught sight of them.

"Do you mind if we get some footage?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah, no problem. Do you want to see their new routine so far?"

"That would be fantaaa…fantastic."

"Alright everyone, get in formation and let's take it from the top!"

Kevin set up his tripod and made sure that the entire squad would be in the shot before they began. Jimmy took his camera out of its bag and snapped a few shots to use in the sports section of this week's issue. The front line consisted of all the seniors on the squad. Jimmy waved to Scott Malkinson, who stood in the center. He had joined during his junior year after he was scouted by the head coach. The only member at the time who was strong enough to base was Lisa Berger, so Coach Lahey asked around for who was the strongest student in the school who wasn't already involved with another autumn activity. All roads led to Scott. He was hesitant at first, as he'd never really done any gymnastics before, but he decided to give it a try and it turned out that he was a natural. The other seniors that made up the front line were Lisa, Red, Bebe, Annie, and Nichole. They had stayed with cheerleading since elementary school and their level of dedication showed.

Once the routine had finished, Coach Lahey called for a five minute water break. Jimmy waved to Bebe across the gymnasium floor, who skipped over once she'd grabbed her water bottle from her pink gym bag.

"Hey, what's up guys?" she asked before taking a long swig.

"Hey Bebe, you're all looking really good. I can't wait for the first game," said Jimmy.

"Yeah, I think this may be our best squad yet!"

"You say that every year, Bebe!" Nichole laughed from the side.

"Hey girl, I can't help it if we keep getting more awesome each year," she winked at Jimmy and Kevin as she turned back to face them. "So let me guess, you need some quotes and shit for the newspaper?"

"Bing…bing…bingo."

"Alright, let me get my best promoter face on."

She took a moment to gather herself before flipping her hair back, placing her hands on her hips, and popping her left hip to the side.

"Hey Park County High! It's your girl Bebe here, and I hope you're ready to cheer your butts off this season! The other cheerleaders and I are ready to get you psyched and ready to hear you scream for your Park County Bulls! I hope to see you there this Friday night at seven! Remember, if you come wearing school spirit gear, you get twenty-five percent off concessions!"

She stood up straight and immediately went into a back handspring before sliding into a right split. She held her hands in front of her chest with her index and pinkie fingers sticking out, simulating bull horns.

"Go Bulls!"

"Wow, that was great, Bebe. Do you think we could edit that into a radio ad or something?" Kevin asked.

"Sure, that'd be cool." She rolled through the split and stood up, dusting off her practice shorts. "I kinda want to spend a year or two being a Bacardi girl once I'm old enough. They make some mad cash, and I'd be able to just flirt and party with people, then shove vodka at them. If it helps me pay off my college loans, I think it'd be worth it before I try getting into the actual career world."

"It sounds like you've really thought a lot about this," Jimmy commented.

"Indeed I have, Jimmy. I'm a woman with a plan." She picked up her water bottle and took another drink. "I'll catch you later in school on Tuesday. We have to keep practicing."

"Alrighty then. We need to m-move over to the music room now, anywa-ay."

The two young men gathered their supplies and waved goodbye to the rest of the team as they walked through the double doors toward the rest of the school. As they traveled down the familiar hallway, they could hear the sounds of the marching band working on a new piece. Jimmy's crutches squeaked on the freshly waxed floor, leaving a few fresh black smudges in their wake. The faint smell of bleach still lingered in the air. In less than a week, these halls would be filled with students, new and old, and the scent would quickly change to that of smelly hormonal teenager.

When they reached the band room, they peeked their head in the doorway and waited for the band to be cut off by the director, Mr. Bunting. Once the song was cut off and Mr. Bunting lifted his head toward the door, the entire band turned around to look at the two intruders, almost in unison. Jimmy and Kevin knew that they were supposed to be in sync as a marching band, but this was bordering on creepy.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Mr. Bunting inquired.

"Uh…we were wondering if we could do a little filming of the band?"

Mr. Bunting rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "I think it'd be better if you came back around six tonight. We'll be heading outside to the field after dinner and that would be a better time to film. Does that work for you both?"

Jimmy and Kevin nodded and left the doorway.

"You wanna head up to the AV room and order some pizza?" asked Kevin.

"Yeah, we can upload the stuff we got today and I can start wr-writing the article on the football team."


A few hours and one sausage and mushroom pizza later, the two students returned outside. They made their way over to the marching band storage shed, they passed the color guard doing some warm-up exercises. Butters was counting off as he led the group of students in a set of drop spins. He gave Jimmy and Kevin a wink and a smile as they walked by, never faltering in keeping time with the flags. They continued past where the wind instruments were setting up shop, some putting a few drops of oil into their valves, some messing around with warm-up scales. They saw Heidi and Kyle chatting and stopped for quick visit.

"Hey Heidi, how was your summer?" Kevin asked, catching her off-guard.

"Mmhm!" She quickly took her clarinet reed out of her mouth and gave him a hug. "It was great. My family and I took a trip to Spain. It was great! I'll have to show you all the places I filmed sometime."

"I'd like that. So what are you guys playing for your show this year?"

"Some jazz standards," Kyle jumped in. "Then we're closing out the halftime show with Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition'. It's not jazz, but it kicks ass anyway. I'm pretty fucking excited about these horn parts. Heidi here even has a clarinet solo for Rhapsody in Blue."

"No shi-shit!? W-way to go, Heidi!" Jimmy cheered.

"Aww geez, thanks guys. Really though, if you want your minds blown, you gotta listen to our drumline. They are so on point already, it's insane. You should go check out them out over there and see if they'll play this year's cadence for you."

"Thanks for the pro-tip, Heidi. We'll see you around."

They waved goodbye and headed down the field. They passed Wendy along the way as she was carrying the drum major pedestal over to the 50-yard line. She nodded and smiled in their direction instead of waving, as her hands were otherwise occupied. They stopped behind Tweek, who was currently bent over assisting a freshman adjust their cymbal straps.

"Hey Tweek!" they greeted.

"Ahh! Oh shit!" He stumbled back in surprise and fell onto his butt, causing the freshman to point and laugh. He looked up at his two peers with his brow furrowed. "Fuck you, both! Don't fucking sneak up on me!" He leaned forward to slap them on the legs, but they quickly jumped back. "You guys are dicks," he pouted.

"Sorry, Tweek. It's never not going to be hilarious to freak you out," Jimmy laughed.

"You won't be laughing when my fist is shoved up your ass," he responded.

"Who are you fisting now, Tweek?" A voice echoed from inside the band shed.

"Jimmy and fucking Kevin, if they don't quit scaring me."

The young man pulled back his hair into a tiny ponytail. He'd grown it out over the summer, just enough to pull it back when he wanted it out of his face.

"Of course, you're making it sound like I fist people all the time, you fucking sicko," he sneered as he stood up.

"Well, don't you?" the voice asked.

Kenny McCormick came out from the shed with his empty snare harness sitting over his bare shoulders and chest. He had a shit-eating grin on his face. It was one of his favorite things in the world to tease the guy who'd become one of his best friends over the past year.

Tweek and his parents had disappeared from South Park after the sixth grade, and didn't show back up until last year. Tweek Bros coffee had closed suddenly, shocking the entire town, but a grand "new and improved" re-opening happened shortly after the family moved back. There had been plenty of rumors flying around - that Tweek had gone to a private school, that he had been in and out of numerous psychiatric facilities, that he had been in a long-term meth addiction program for teens. No one was really sure where he'd gone to, and he never spoke of what happened in those missing years. All anyone knew was that when he returned, he wasn't quite the Tweek they had remembered.

The Tweek they saw now almost exclusively dressed in metal band t-shirts and jeans, a far cry from the poorly buttoned shirts of his youth. He had three helix piercings on his right ear and he had bilateral lobe piercings that he had just begun to start stretching. He still had a look that was routinely unkempt, but now it felt like that was the point rather than an unintentional accident. He had joined the band on the first day of junior year and Kenny had been drawn to him immediately after hearing him mess around on the school's drum kit. They started hanging out after school and bonding over a love of drumming and an affection for loud, pulsing rock music.

"No!" Tweek's hands started shaking and his facial tic became more prominent. "Fuck! I gotta go have a cigarette before we start warm-ups. I blame you shitheads for this!" He pulled an open pack from the left pocket of his baggy jeans and stuck a cigarette between his lips. "You want one, K?" he mumbled.

"Nah, I'm good. I'm trying to cut back some."

"Suit yourself, man." The messy haired young man moved to a spot behind the shed, disappearing from sight.

"So are you guys going to film us working on our sets tonight?" Kenny asked, turning back to Jimmy and Kevin.

"Yeah. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions before you get too busy?"

He nodded and gestured for them to follow him. He stopped at the bleachers near the closest thirty yard line and removed his harness, leaning it against his drum case. He opened up the black case and pulled out his snare drum, flipping it over to start tuning the bottom head.

"Shoot," he said casually as he began to lightly tap the outer part of the drum head.

"So what can we expect to see from Park County High's star drummer?"

"Star? Fuck off, man…" Kenny dismissed.

"Kenny. You were chosen to be one of eight snare drummers in a state-wide drumline last year. You played at Mile High Stadium last year. You're our school's fucking star drummer. D-d-de-deal with it."

Kenny finished tuning the bottom of the drum and flipped it back over to begin on the top. He didn't try too hard to hide his sly grin at Jimmy's statement. He enjoyed coming off as humble, but deep down inside, he loved hearing about his many accomplishments in music. Coming from poverty and being told every day by your family, teachers, and sometimes your peers, that you'll never amount to anything…that you'll just follow in your parent's footsteps…he loved knowing that every time he put on that harness, every time he heard a crowd cheer and chant his name, he was proving them all wrong. He felt he had earned the ability to be a cocky little shit sometimes, at least while he was still in high school.

"Well, if you insist on calling me that, Jimmy," he smirked. "You can say that I'm gonna keep bringing the sexy back to the football field during halftime."

Jimmy stared at him, slowly blinking. "I'm not writing that, Ken."

"You're no fun."

"This is the school's newspaper, you kn-know. The principal will have my fu-fu-fucking head if I were to print that."

"Really? Aww, well, in that case, just write something about how the drumline is gonna continue to bring the fun this year, the marching band as a whole is going to be something special, yada yada."

Jimmy glared at him.

"Too contrived?" he asked.

"You th-th-think?" Jimmy stammered.

Kenny thought for a moment, then replied with a straight face. "We took state championships in our division last year, so we have a target on our backs and we know it. From what I've seen during band camp, though, we're deadly serious about becoming two-time reigning state champions. Bitches better bow down."

"That was really good…until the part about bitches. I'll just edit that out."

"That's fine. We all basically decided on the first day of band camp that that was our motto for this season…so prepare to hear it a lot this year." Kenny chucked and stood up, now that his drum was tuned and tightened into place on his harness.

Jimmy and Kevin were about to thank him for his time and head up to the press box, when a sudden noise caused them all to stop what they were doing.

"It's okay when it's in a three-way…"

"What the fuck?" they almost said in unison.

"It's not gay when it's in a three-way…"

"Hold up, it's coming from someone's phone over there." Kenny leapt up onto the bleachers, bending over to pick up the ringing mystery phone.

"With a honey in the middle there's some leeway…"

"It says that 'Black Thunder' is calling. Seriously, what the fuck." He swiped to accept the call. "Uh, hello?"

"Hey, hi! Did you find this phone outside by the bleachers?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Yeah…who's asking?"

"Great! I'll be there in a minute!"

The call was dropped and Kenny stared at the phone suspiciously. "Given the ringtone and the call having been from 'Black Thunder', I think we may have found the phone of a gay porn star, you guys."

Barely a moment had passed before Clyde was running toward them from across the field. "Hey! Hey, you lame music nerds the ones who found my phone?" he asked once he was standing alongside Kenny.

"Maybe. Maybe not." Kenny wore a look of feigned innocence. "I suppose that depends on how much you're willing to pay to get it back."

"Dude, what the fuck?!" Clyde exclaimed. "You expect me to give you money for my own fucking phone?"

"It's the finder's fee…and how about we throw in another fee for being a stupid jock?"

"Those aren't fucking things! Just give me my damn phone back, Kenny! Stop being such a fucking prick!"

Kenny grinned mischievously as he held up Clyde's phone and dangled it in front of him. Clyde tried to swipe it out of his hands, but Kenny jumped back out of the way.

"One easy payment of fifty dollars and it can be yours…again." He was relishing in how upset Clyde was getting at such childish school yard tactics.

"You know what? Fine. I don't even need my phone. I can live without it," said Clyde. He turned around and started to slowly walk away.

"Doubt it," laughed Kenny. "What's with your ringtone, anyway? Unless that's a custom ringtone for whoever 'Black Thunder' is…in which case, I have several more questions."

Clyde continued to walk away, not seeming to be fazed by Kenny's prodding.

"Well then, since it's my phone now, let's see if there's any juicy pics on here. Perhaps some nudes I can send to everyone in the contact-"

Kenny barely had any time to react as he looked up to see Clyde charging toward hm. The wind was being knocked out of his lungs as he fell backwards, Clyde's arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him down to the ground with a thud. Clyde pried his phone from Kenny's grasp and rolled over to the side, quickly picking himself up off the grass. His breathing was tense as he shoved his phone into his pocket, quickly walking away.

"Asshole…" Clyde muttered to himself.

Kenny sat up and rubbed the back of his neck.

"What the fuck was that all about?!"

Kenny turned his head to the side and saw that Tweek had caught up with them. He had a stunned look on his face, as did Jimmy and Kevin. That's when Kenny realized that the field had become oddly silent. He turned his head in the other direction and realized that the entire band was staring at him. He jumped up and brushed himself off. Grabbing his harness and placing it back over his head, he flashed a winning smile at his concerned peers.

"How about we make some music, you guys?"

He leaned over to pick up his drumsticks and made his way over to the warm-up area. Mr. Bunting silently mouthed are you okay? at him. Kenny gave him a thumbs up in response. In reality, his neck and the back of his head was hurting from the impact, but he wasn't about to let anyone know that. Tweek and the rest of the drumline followed behind him, getting into position.

"Alright everyone, let's start with B flat major." Mr Bunting held his hands up in the air, lifting them up and dropping them into the first downbeat.

Once the music started, Jimmy and Kevin turned to each other.

"Sooo…" Jimmy started.

"Yeah. That was…weird."

"D-did you get any of that on camer-r-ra?"

"The whole thing."

"I mean, it's not news…but…with the sound taken away, maybe it could be used as B roll?"

"I don't know, but I'm definitely not deleting it. Worst case scenario, it would be perfect for the senior video during graduation. Sound included."

"You're kind of an evil ge-ge-ge-nius, Kev."

"Aww, thanks Jim," Kevin smirked.

They made their way up to the press box, where they spent the next half an hour filming the band during practice. Once they felt they had enough material, the two collected their equipment and started the walk back to Kevin's car. Once the gear was loaded into the back and they were both comfortably in the front seats, they decided to go grab some milkshakes from Shakey's.

"Our senior y-year," Jimmy stated. "Let's hope it goes out with a bang."