A/N: I think I did a good job of hatcheting things. If anyone wants to read the deleted shit then let me know! In this chappy everyone's severe problems become clear. Sorta.


Stan and Cartman met up with Kenny, Kyle, and a teary-eyed Butters after an unpleasant group gym shower. The two boys had thrown soap at each other, flicked each other with towels, and given obnoxious wet willies to each other. It was safe to say that they were not on speaking terms.

"I'm g-gonna make him p-pay!" Stan caught word of Butters threat and joined the circle, pushing casually in between Kyle and Kenny.

"What'd I miss? Who's Butters gonna make pay?" Cartman asked excitedly as he shoved Kenny aside to join the clique, knocking the blonde headlong into a trash can.

"You if you don't f-fuck off, asshole!" Butters retaliated, lunging at Cartman. Kyle and Stan held Butters back easily. Stan raised an eyebrow at Kyle, who shrugged back.

"Dude? What did I do to you, Butters?" Cartman sounded genuinely concerned. He kept his eyes at his feet, seemingly fascinated with his shoelaces. Kenny reappeared next to him, looking even more displeased with the larger teen than Butters did.

"Everything! I hate your g-guts, Eric! Go s-somewhere else!" Butters struggled to get out of Kyle's grip on his left arm, and then spit in Cartman's face when he couldn't.

"Dude!" Cartman stomped off, angered.

"Butters? Did I ever tell you how much I honor and respect you?" Stan asked, gaping at Cartman's back retreating down the hallway.

"N-no. Now get your goddamn hands off m-me!" After being freed from his friends' strong grips, Butters returned to his normal, contented state. "So, fellers, how sh-should I make him pay?"

"Uh…" The other three stepped away, mumbling suggestions at the red tiles of the high school lobby.

"Hey! Get your asses b-back here! I wanna talk to you!"

Reluctantly Kyle, Stan, and Kenny all gathered back around Butters.

"How should I get b-back at Mr. Knowles?"

"You should give him brownies with Exlax in them! That'd be cool!" Kenny snickered, earning him a skeptical look from Stan and an angered glare from Kyle.

"No, I mean, r-really mean."

"Cut class?"

"Goddamn it, Kenny," Kyle growled, shaking his head.

"Maybe…" Looking up at Kyle, Butters grinned. Kyle was officially pissed off, keeping his willowy arms crossed as he scowled down at Kenny. "M-maybe I'll cut class on Monday…"


The phone was ringing. Agitated that Terrance and Phillip had been so rudely interrupted, Kyle forced himself up and into the kitchen to pick up the phone after four annoying rings.

"Hello?"

"Um, Kyle, can I talk to your mother?" A female voice asked politely.

"Ok." Sighing, further angered, he yelled at his mom upstairs. As she appeared in the kitchen he began the short trek back to the couch.

If he hated anything, it was something interrupting Terrance and Phillip. Sure, it was a kiddish show he really didn't like anymore, but just for old times' sake…

"What about Stanley?" Sheila asked the woman on the other line, which drew Kyle back to the kitchen. He hovered outside the kitchen door, straining his ears to hear his mother's side of the conversation.

"I don't know. What did you say?"

That's weird… Kyle leaned on the wall, squishing one earflap of his hat on the yellow wallpaper.

"Yes, but just to make sure, what was it?"

Intrigued and confused, Kyle walked over to turn off the TV, making the conversation easier to eavesdrop on.

"Ok, Sharon. I won't say anything else to him. By the way, do you want to… oh. Sorry." Kyle heard the familiar slam of the phone he had used so often in the final days before several messy breakups. He shook off the thought of his bitchy exes to greet his mom coming out of the kitchen.

"Mom? What did Stan's mom want?" Kyle asked, feigning innocence horribly.

"Nothing, Buhbie," Sheila said dismissively, ambling past him and towards the couch.

"Are you sure?" Kyle, crossing his arms, hoped desperately that he could bleed an answer out of her.

"Yes, Kyle, I'm sure. Go get ready for supper." Turning back to him, she pointed up the stairs. Her expression told Kyle no more questions regarding the phone conversation were to be asked, and if he did he would get grounded for a month.

"Ok." As he looked up the flight, he dropped his arms to his sides and began climbing the stairs two at a time. Though he tried not to think about it, the thoughts of what his mom had said kept replaying in his mind. He wanted to know why they were talking about Stan. Kyle thought about calling Stan and asking, but ultimately decided against it. After all, he could just ask Stan tomorrow.


Butters stuffed his hands in his pockets, squinting down the cracked asphalt street on the 'bad' side of town. In the light thrown by the one streetlight Kenny and Kevin hadn't vandalized, the dark green shack sat beside the pitiful street.

He stopped under the light, then decided that he was going to do it. He was going to invite Kenny to come hang out with him.

Soon he stood face to face with the front door, mustering up the courage to knock. He didn't notice the figure behind him, watching him from across the street.

Finally he hit a closed fist against the splintery wood three times. A man who Butters assumed was Kenny's dad flung the door open.

"Who the hell are you?" He more hollered than asked, swaying back and forth as he took a swig from his Budweiser.

"I'm B-Butters, one of Kenny's f-friends," Butters answered, stepping cautiously away from the drunken man.

"Oh." Kenny's dad turned into the house. "Kenny!! Kenny!! You've got a friend or something down here!" The only person who came forward was Kenny's mom.

"Kenny ran off somewhere. Sorry we couldn't help you," she told him flatly, holding a bag of ice on the eye her husband had just blackened. She managed a weak smile and slammed the door.

Disappointed, Butters tripped out of Kenny's yard and down the street. A few houses down, Butters saw his own personal hellhole looming in the distance.

"Butters?" A familiar voice asked from behind him.

"Wh-what?" Butters turned around, thinking he was being mugged. Instead, Kenny was stumbling towards him. "Oh, K-Kenny, it's just you. Sweet Jesus, you scared me!"

Kenny shrugged as he walked slowly up to Butters, a slight limp impeding his step. "Sorry. What did you come to my house for?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my house."

"Sure. I haven't got anything better to do." Kenny finally caught up to him, grinning stupidly at him with a fat lip.


Cartman stared at nothing in particular out his window. A thoughtful, blank face stared back at him in the reflection in his window. The light from the full moon illuminated his face in an eerie way.

His expression was not one of pain, as one would think, but of relief and satisfaction. For the first time in a while, he didn't have an intense feeling of hate towards everything. He had his release. In his hand, glistening against the moonlight, he clutched a knife. Not just any knife. A knife he kept in his room, just for times like these.

He couldn't remember the first time he did it. But, as he glanced down at his left arm, he knew it would be all right. Although he still didn't know what 'it' was, he was sure the thing would be fine. Maybe 'it' was his life, maybe 'it' was the world. Not that anything really mattered.

Sighing, he threw the knife behind him, where it clattered against his wall, leaving a crimson splatter.

"Well, Peter Panda, I should be getting to bed," Cartman informed his beaten stuffed panda that the knife had landed on. "Saturday's gonna be real fun."

He fell back on his bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.


"So, Stan, what did you do last night?" Kyle asked as casually as he could as he, Stan, Kenny, and Butters sat down at his kitchen table.

Stan smiled, remembering the interesting night he and Wendy wasted together. "Nothing much."

"R-really? Oh boy, me and Kenny stayed up all n-night watchin' porn," Butters volunteered.

"Sounds fun," Kyle laughed.

"What? What's fun?" Ike asked from his position sprawled on the floor in front of the TV.

"Watching TV and shutting up. That's really fun," Kyle snapped, making Ike turn back to the news, a bit insulted. "Seriously, Stan. Your mom called for some reason, and our moms were talking about you."

Stan sat back in his chair. "Umm, really?"

"Yeah. They were saying something about what my mom said about you or something. It was weird." Kyle watched Stan try and act like he had no idea what the hell Kyle was talking about. It seemed more than obvious that Stan wanted to avoid the entire subject completely.

Kenny chewed at an edge of his grilled cheese sandwich. "I know," he suggested, getting everyone's attention. "Stan secretly likes Kyle, but doesn't want to tell him-"

"What?!" Kyle and Stan exploded. Stan thought he was going to die, and it looked to him like Kyle was having an argument with himself on how to kill Kenny.

"Hey, I call it as I see it," Kenny said defensively. "And, as I was saying-"

"Kenny…" Kyle growled through gritted teeth, raising a threatening fist .

"Dude, will you let me fucking finish?" Kyle barely complied, sitting back down and biting his tongue so hard he nearly drew blood. "Jeez. Anyway, Kyle's a bit of a homophobe and hates it when things aren't all the same and neat and perfect, so Stan knows he'd get his ass kicked if he told Kyle, if Kyle could kick his ass. There's my philosophy." Kenny leaned back, nibbling his sandwich and watching Stan and Kyle's reactions.

Stan bit his lip, avoiding eye contact with anyone, while Kyle glared at Kenny. Butters took turns looking at everyone sitting at the table, then started the giggle in spite of himself.

"Wow. Kenny, you should be a shrink or something," Stan said finally, changing the subject.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, switching his green-eyed glower towards his best friend. "So… Kenny's right?"

"Naw…" Stan laughed, hoping his act was convincing. "But it was a pretty good psychoanalysis, dude. Do Butters!" Kyle, relieved, relaxed in his chair. Stan secretly wondered how Kenny had done it- Guessing everything about his feelings for Kyle, and pinning the redhead's exact tendencies.

Kenny held his chin in one hand and the sandwich in the other. "Well… Butters has an oppressed home life and constant ridicule has made him socially inadequate and awkward." Kenny stuck his tongue out at all of the big words.

"Come on, dude, tell us something we don't know!" Kyle demanded.

"Ok, ok. Butters wants to break away, prove he's something different that what people think he is. That's why he beat up Cartman."

"I-I do?" Butters asked.

"I dunno. Do you?" Kenny wondered around a mouthful of grilled cheese.

"Uh, n-no…"

"Huh. Then I'm wrong. That's weird, I've never been wrong before…" Kenny smiled deviously as he stuffed the remaining bit of sandwich in his mouth. The conversation quickly returned to normal, as everyone wanted it to.


"Whoa, Dude. Kenny was telling us some pretty weird shit," Kyle told Stan when Butters and Kenny had left and they were sitting in Kyle's room.

"Yeah… He could be a psychologist."

"I just hope he doesn't do it again. It was really freaky." Kyle leaned back on his bed, propping himself up on one elbow.

It was embarrassing.

When Stan didn't say anything, Kyle sighed. "What did you really do last night? Don't say 'nothing,' I know better!"

"Me and Wendy made out…" Stan grinned, remembering the night before.

"Great for you, man!" Kyle laughed, giving Stan a high-five. "It must be nice."

"What do you mean?" Stan looked behind him at Kyle, laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. Kyle shifted his green-eyed gaze to Stan, sitting at the corner of the big bed.

"Well, people like you better than me. The other day when you were so hungover you couldn't walk I had to hang around a bunch of losers all day."

"I didn't know you thought Kenny and Cartman were losers…" Stan joked, which only got him an irritated look.

"I'm trying to reveal something really deep that could add to the complexity of the story!"

"Oh. Well then who'd you hang around?"

"Some freak shows from North Park."

Uncomfortably Stan stared at a spot on Kyle's floor. He though of the troupes of girls that liked him and his other friends and acquaintances besides Kyle. When he tried to count them, he lost track in the thirties. If he ever wanted to, although he knew he wouldn't any time soon, he could break up with Wendy and have another equally horny girlfriend an arm's length away.

"Uh, maybe we could get Kenny's philosophy," Stan blurted, then felt really stupid.

Kyle laughed, his anger subsiding. "Maybe."


"Kenny, you think too m-much," Butters said dismally at the limping teen next to him. Already they were halfway up the street to Butters' house.

Kenny chuckled. "Not really."

Butters stood in front of the shorter blonde, stopping him in his tracks. "Th-then why were you telling us things about ourselves b-back at Kyle's? It was w-weird!" Butters' sudden anger, as most things did, struck Kenny as funny. Kenny's laughter only made Butters furious. "Wh-what the fuck are you laughin' at, K-Kenny?!"

"Butters," Kenny started, hoping he could get in a word that wasn't uttered through a snicker. "I'm not laughing at anyone. I'm laughing at nothing. Is that OK with you?" Trying to look serious, he folded his arms and tilted his fair-haired head up, examining Butters.

"F-fine, Kenny." Butters returned to normal, walking alongside Kenny for a few seconds filled with silence. He glanced at Kenny, who stared down at the sidewalk, his hands in the pockets of dark gray pants that had seen better days. He had his famous orange hoody on, although it was unzipped and the hood was not covering two thirds of his face and muffling his speech. Kenny was the only freshman smaller than Butters, even if by two inches and ten pounds. Not only that, but he was the only person that was sort of nice to him, without the kindness being forced, and that made Butters respect him in an odd sort of way. Finally he blurted what he wanted to ask. "Um, K-Kenny, how do you do it, anyway?"

"Do what?" Kenny looked up, eyeing Butters, confused.

"Look into everyone's s-soul! It's m-messed up, y'know."

"Oh. That. Well…" Kenny glanced sideways, both embarrassed and flattered. " My parents taught me, through some serious abusive bullshit, to know people really well before you trust them, look into them, you know?"

"Oh. But s-still, how?"

Although Kenny was a bit agitated at Butters' blatant stupidity, he shrugged. "Beats me."

"OK, s-so how do your parents know how to d-do it and how did they teach you?"

Kenny sighed angrily. He hated thinking about his parents. He hated even being at his house unless he was asleep. "Butters, they can't do 'it,' which is why their lives are so fucked up. They blame each other for it when it's both their own fault," Kenny grumbled. He looked at Butters, dead serious. "Butters, I didn't get a fat lip from falling down last night like I told you. My mom hit me."

"Why?"

"Because she's a stupid bitch when she gets drunk." Kenny immediately changed the subject to something he could laugh about. "That porn was really something, huh, Butters?"

"Y-yeah…" Butters looked up at his house as they approached it. Beside him, Kenny sighed deeply, scowling at the side of Butters head.

Goddamn you. God-fucking-damn you.


DONE!! Yeah! Yup, now everyone's problems are evident.

-Cartman's depressed.

-Kenny's depressed.

-Kyle has low self-esteem.

-Stan's an airhead.

-Butters is probably depressed, too.

-everyone else has a problem, too, I swear.

I'm good! Next chappy, shit starts happening. I mean, the main conflict becomes clear when someone does something and something else happens. Oh, how I rejoice!!

It's halfway done!!!!!!!