Kyle turned the doorknob. The door opened, and he stepped in. He
tried to catch up with Stan, but he was running too fast. Kyle wandered
around the broken-down house, an expression of confusion on his face. Sense
when did Stan's house look like Kenny's? He found Stan's room. He knocked.
No answer. He opened the door, no one there. 'Where did he go?'
"Shelly? Where'd Stan go?"
"Kyle? That you?" She said, suddenly in his face.
"Yeah....?"
She hugged him and put his hands near her chest. "My boyfriends out of town....." She said, her speech slurred. "I'd love to suck on YOUR dick, sexy...."
He could tell she was drunk. She smelled like she had bathed in alcohol. 'Wow,' he thought, 'Stan has it pretty bad around here...' He jerked away. "Where's Stan!!"
She made a puppy face and sulked. "He's in the bathroom... But-"
"The bathroom!" He walked to the bathroom. The door was open. He walked in. And there he was: Stan, sitting in a puddle of blood. A puddle of his OWN blood. He was still steadily bleeding. And the worst part? He was SMILING.
"STAN!" Kyle cried out, covering his mouth with his hands. His eyes narrowed. "STAN! NOOOO!"
"Dude. I'm not dead, you know."
"Wha.... WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"I dunno." Stan shrugged. His head turned away and squinted his eyes.
Kyle grabbed Stan's wounded arm and started crying. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS?" he cried out through sobs. "WHY??'
"Kyle, it's OK! Sheesh!" he scowled, trying to jerk away.
"No it's not......... IT'S NOT OK! Why the hell'd you do this?"
Stan shrugged and buried his head in his other hand. Kyle's green eyes beat down on Stan's, forcing him to look back. "I.... don't know." he choked out, crying. He looked at his bleeding arm. 6 cut marks. It didn't feel as bad as it looked. It looked disgusting. He opened his mouth and stared blankly at Kyle's hand, which was on his arm. He put his hand on Kyle's.
Kyle pulled his hand back, frowning. He stood up, shaking the blood off of him and wiped away his tears. "You.... you better watch out...... Your gonna get yourself killed..." he whispered angrily, walking out of the bathroom.
Stan stared angrily at the floor. He could barely move for the dried blood that covered his shirt. It felt so disgusting. He ripped his shirt off and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding arm. The smell of blood filled the air.
Stan stood up and walked into his room, where Kyle was sitting. "Dude.... I-I'm........ sorry. I didn't know what I was doing. I-I... mean, in all of those movies and books... It's no big deal when people........."
Kyle stood up and glanced at him, as if to say "Just shut up about it!" He walked closer to Stan. "Dude, you have to realize that this ISN'T a book... or a movie..... This is REAL! Those scars...." he sighed, "Those scars are going to be on your arm FOREVER. Sure they look cool in a way, but..... But one of these days your gonna wish they weren't there." He pulled up his sleeve...Seven dark red marks, mostly faded, scared his left arm.
Stan gasped. "YOU did it? Why the hell would YOU do that?
Kyle sighed. "I'll tell you later, I don't want to talk about it now. Just promise me you won't hurt yourself any more."
Stan nodded his head, crying. He wrapped his arms around Kyle. "I promise." Stan whispered, half crying. He stared into Kyle's eyes and their lips met.
Later that night they both woke up on Stan's bed. "Dude, that was totally fucked up," Stan said, and sat up. "But I liked it. For some odd reason I LIKED it."
"I did too. It wasn't THAT fucked up, was it?"
"Yeah, dude, it was. I'm gonna go get a shower. You can stay here if you want."
Kyle sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes. If he stayed, his mother would be bitching about it for the next 3 weeks. On the other hand, if he stayed, he could....... stay. "I'll stay," Kyle said, with a sneering smile on his face. Cartman was right all of those years.... his mother WAS a big fat bitch.
"Shelly? Where'd Stan go?"
"Kyle? That you?" She said, suddenly in his face.
"Yeah....?"
She hugged him and put his hands near her chest. "My boyfriends out of town....." She said, her speech slurred. "I'd love to suck on YOUR dick, sexy...."
He could tell she was drunk. She smelled like she had bathed in alcohol. 'Wow,' he thought, 'Stan has it pretty bad around here...' He jerked away. "Where's Stan!!"
She made a puppy face and sulked. "He's in the bathroom... But-"
"The bathroom!" He walked to the bathroom. The door was open. He walked in. And there he was: Stan, sitting in a puddle of blood. A puddle of his OWN blood. He was still steadily bleeding. And the worst part? He was SMILING.
"STAN!" Kyle cried out, covering his mouth with his hands. His eyes narrowed. "STAN! NOOOO!"
"Dude. I'm not dead, you know."
"Wha.... WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"I dunno." Stan shrugged. His head turned away and squinted his eyes.
Kyle grabbed Stan's wounded arm and started crying. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS?" he cried out through sobs. "WHY??'
"Kyle, it's OK! Sheesh!" he scowled, trying to jerk away.
"No it's not......... IT'S NOT OK! Why the hell'd you do this?"
Stan shrugged and buried his head in his other hand. Kyle's green eyes beat down on Stan's, forcing him to look back. "I.... don't know." he choked out, crying. He looked at his bleeding arm. 6 cut marks. It didn't feel as bad as it looked. It looked disgusting. He opened his mouth and stared blankly at Kyle's hand, which was on his arm. He put his hand on Kyle's.
Kyle pulled his hand back, frowning. He stood up, shaking the blood off of him and wiped away his tears. "You.... you better watch out...... Your gonna get yourself killed..." he whispered angrily, walking out of the bathroom.
Stan stared angrily at the floor. He could barely move for the dried blood that covered his shirt. It felt so disgusting. He ripped his shirt off and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding arm. The smell of blood filled the air.
Stan stood up and walked into his room, where Kyle was sitting. "Dude.... I-I'm........ sorry. I didn't know what I was doing. I-I... mean, in all of those movies and books... It's no big deal when people........."
Kyle stood up and glanced at him, as if to say "Just shut up about it!" He walked closer to Stan. "Dude, you have to realize that this ISN'T a book... or a movie..... This is REAL! Those scars...." he sighed, "Those scars are going to be on your arm FOREVER. Sure they look cool in a way, but..... But one of these days your gonna wish they weren't there." He pulled up his sleeve...Seven dark red marks, mostly faded, scared his left arm.
Stan gasped. "YOU did it? Why the hell would YOU do that?
Kyle sighed. "I'll tell you later, I don't want to talk about it now. Just promise me you won't hurt yourself any more."
Stan nodded his head, crying. He wrapped his arms around Kyle. "I promise." Stan whispered, half crying. He stared into Kyle's eyes and their lips met.
Later that night they both woke up on Stan's bed. "Dude, that was totally fucked up," Stan said, and sat up. "But I liked it. For some odd reason I LIKED it."
"I did too. It wasn't THAT fucked up, was it?"
"Yeah, dude, it was. I'm gonna go get a shower. You can stay here if you want."
Kyle sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes. If he stayed, his mother would be bitching about it for the next 3 weeks. On the other hand, if he stayed, he could....... stay. "I'll stay," Kyle said, with a sneering smile on his face. Cartman was right all of those years.... his mother WAS a big fat bitch.