A/n: sorry I didn't get to this sooner. I've been playing the Sims 2 for a week straight since Christmas…..
Oh yes, there is slash, not much, but its implied between just about everyone/everyone. Hope all the presents everyone got kicked a lot of ass.
Ah, on with the slaughter!
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Wendy grinned down at everyone standing awkwardly in Stan's living room. They all glared back at her, standing in an S-curve on the stairs, one hand on one jutting hip. A few steps below, Stan glanced back at her, giving her a skeptical smirk.
"Can we hurry this Kodak moment up?" Kenny growled, pulling off his hood. He squinted up at the two on the staircase, much like everyone else, with his arms crossed. Next to him, Kyle looked equally displeased.
"Alright," Stan agreed, grabbing Wendy's hand and leading her down the stairs. He stopped near Kenny, who made no attempt at saying anything.
"When is the bus gonna get here, man? This is too much pressure!" Tweek panicked, jumping towards Stan from a dark corner. "I gotta get outta here…. Oh man…"
"You're a freak," Kenny spat, shoving Tweek out of the range of all of them.
"AH!" Tweek wandered off somewhere, twitching nervously.
Kenny got stares from Kyle, Stan, and even Wendy, but didn't explain himself. A squeal of brakes outside stopped anyone from asking, and the crowd pushed through the door of Stan's house.
The rain had gotten worse, though no one had ever thought that such a phenomenon was possible. The school bus driver waited patiently for everyone to get on the bus, then drove off. Few were seated, and bodies tumbled and tangled together as the big vehicle lurched forward.
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Butters grinned up at the shop. Jimbo's Guns. Despite the rain, he felt happy. Pulling his dampened coat around his tiny shoulders, he started in. The bell connected to the door rang as he walked in, causing Jimbo to look up from his deer hunting magazine.
"Well, hello, Butters. Been painting something red?" Jimbo greeted, noticing the smudge of blood on Butters' left cheek. I hope it's paint…
"Y-yes, sir," Butters agreed, and his voice lacked its happy, paranoid quality.
"Well, what can I do for ya?"
Pulling out the gun smeared with his parent's blood, Butters smiled darkly. "Can I trade this gun in for, oh, s-say, all of them?"
"No… uh, can you stop pointing that at me? Please?" Jimbo started reaching somewhere behind the counter for his own gun.
"N-no, I can't." Raising the gun to Jimbo's head, he frowned. "Don't do it."
"No, of course not, Butters. Take all the guns you want!" Jimbo groped around behind him for some guns, then set them on the counter separating him and Butters.
"Th-thank you sir." After grabbing the three guns, Butters pulled the trigger and watched Jimbo sink to the floor, a bullet between his eyes.
"Jimbo?" A mechanical voice asked from behind Butters. "Oh my God. Jimbo." Ned was leaning over Jimbo's dead body when Butters cast a shadow over him.
Ten minutes later, as he walked down the street, Butters held, in his freshly rebloodied hand, Ned's broken glasses.
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"Stan, why are we going to North Park, anyway?" Kyle asked, turning in his seat to look at Stan, behind him.
"Well…" Stan scratched at the back of his head. Nervously ha looked out the window, searching for any sign of the destruction that Butters had caused. When he saw some blood he pointed to it, steering Kyle's eyes out the window.
Through the dingy bus window, Kyle noticed the windows of Tom's Rhinoplasty smashed. Under the window, Tom lay, most of his insides reddening the sidewalk.
"Holy shit…" Kyle murmured, poking Kenny, next to him, between two protruding ribs. "Look, dude."
"Whoa…" Kenny said, leaning over Kyle's lap to look. A glance later he quickly sat back, thanking Stan over and over in his head.
Wendy, sitting beside Stan, complained that she was going to puke after seeing the carnage that was Main Street. "Hold me, Stan," she commanded, reaching over to hug him not only for support but to feel his hard body against hers.
Stan wrapped his arm around her and stared out the window. Behind the bus, two other busses were trailing. The other four busses were still gathering people. From the very back seat where he and Wendy sat he could hear them, especially Mrs. Crabtree's, with its bad brakes.
Although everyone was talking at once, Kyle heard his own thoughts very clearly. As usual, Kenny wasn't making much conversation, except for the occasional complaint about Stan's secrecy. The blonde's big blue eyes were glazed over, like fish eyes, staring at the back of the seat in front of them. Finally his eyes snapped onto Kyle, who'd been staring to avoid looking out the window he leaned against.
"What are you looking at?"
Kyle shrugged. "You."
"Why?"
"I'm not looking out that Goddamn window."
Kenny managed a grin. "It's pretty bad… Why don't you stare at some girl, you homo?"
"I don't know," Kyle said honestly.
"Well then stare at me. I don't give a fuck." Uncomfortably Kenny shifted his glance towards the bus driver, who was driving the bus worse than a drunken monkey. "Hey!" He yelled at the old man. "Pay attention to the road, buddy!"
"Shut up and sit down!" Token commanded from the right side of the bus in the last seat. "I'm tryin' to enjoy a-"
"Sh!" Bebe clapped the hand that wasn't down Token's pants over his mouth.
Seeing what was happening, Kenny started laughing hysterically. Beside him, Kyle grinned at the sight, remembering Bebe offering him the same when they were dating.
"Well, I'm glad you can find some humor in this," Wendy scolded Kenny, standing up to peer down at him. "Oh yes, we all love laughing at depraved sexual urges."
"No… just Kenny," Kyle told Wendy.
"Seriously. Sometimes I don't know how you got so… giggly."
"That's not a word," Stan corrected, pulling Wendy back down by the shoulder.
"So? I can make up words if I want to." Playfully she crossed her arms. "God, Stan, you're so sexy when you're being an asshole."
"She thinks Stan's sexy when he does anything," Kyle muttered to Kenny, who nodded, smiling widely.
"Wendy's hornier than I could ever be," Kenny whispered back. "But Stan hasn't realized it yet."
"Nope." Kyle looked behind them, where Wendy was the aggressor of a moderately sexual make-out session with Stan. Wendy's pawing and obvious desire to get into Stan's pants was mostly rejected. Grinning again, Kyle turned back around, and in doing so caught a glimpse of the South Park welcome sign, splattered with blood.
He had a bad feeling.
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Not knowing or caring where he was going, Butters traipsed down Main Street, shooting the few people out in the rain. Most of the time he missed, but a few steps closer and another shot took them down.
Hearing a car approaching, Butters dove into the bushes in front of someone's store. Aiming the gun out of the side of the bush, Butters shot whoever was driving the green station wagon. As he jumped out of the bushes, he immediately regretted it.
"Chef?" Butters gasped at the car, hurrying to it. "N-no…. n-not Chef!" He opened the driver door and pulled the dieing man out.
"Ugh," Chef grunted when he hit the tar. "Butters? What… what the heck… something hit me…"
"I did, chef, s-sir." Sighing, Butters heaved chef across the road.
"Why, Butters?"
"I-I don't know. I'm sorry, s-sir." Finally, when the task of dragging Chef across the road was finished, Butters fell to his knees next to Chef. "Any l-last requests, sir?"
"What? Butters, I-" Chef felt the cold, hard metal of a gun pressed between his eyes. "Butters, you don't want to do this…"
"You don't know what I want, s-sir!" Butters cried, wiping his face again. "Any… l-last requests, s-sir?"
"Butters, please don't-"
"Shut up! Shut your G-Goddamn mouth or I'll kill you, too! J-just like everyone else!" Fighting back sobbing, Butters looked away. "What's your last r-request, chef?"
"Uh…. Can I say goodbye to everyone?"
"N-no!"
"Ok, then, can you say goodbye to them for me, Butters?"
"I… will. I p-promise."
"Good." Chef shut his eyes and waited for the end.
BANG
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm s-sorry," Butters sobbed as he slowly lifted himself up from the bloody mess that had been Chef's head. "S-sorry."
He got in Chef's Station wagon, which was still running. He drove off well enough, hurrying as much as possible while still driving fairly safely to get away from Chef. Butters made his slow progression towards the residential part of South Park.
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"Wendy, stop!" Stan pushed Wendy's hands away from his inner thighs in an almost violent way. "We're close… There's the dirt road we go on…"
As predicted, the bus full of now silent teenagers pulled onto the dirt road.
"Stan, I'm scared," Bebe confided, staring, unblinking, from the seat across from him.
"Well, uh, It's all going to be OK!" Stan told everyone. Though he didn't reassure himself, the senseless chatter started back up again. "Jesus… I hope this works…"
"It will. Now, in case we do die, will you fuck me so we both don't die virgins? Please?!" Wendy begged, tugging at Stan's Tee-shirt in a vain attempt to pull him close to her.
"Wendy, I'll do you later. Right now ask Kenny about it."
"Ok…" Wendy tapped Kenny on the shoulder with one hand, keeping the other firmly furrowing in Stan's shirt.
"What?" Kenny's Blond head popped up over the seat.
"Kenny, what's sex like?"
Grinning, Kenny shook his head. "I get this all the time."
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Butters pulled Chef's car into a driveway. Stepping out, he grinned evilly at the dark green house.
"T-time to p-pay." He took out Officer Barabrady's gun and put on Ned's smashed glasses. The rain pounded relentlessly on his shoulders as he approached the door of the house, gun ready. He hit his fist against the door three times and raised the gun.
A few minutes later, an angered Cartman threw the door open.
"Butters? What the hell do you want, you-"
Cartman was interrupted by a gunshot. Butters stepped over the body in the doorway.
"Pookie? I heard a sound; are you OK?" Mrs. Cartman asked, worried, as she hurried into the living room in her sloppily tied bath robe. Closely following he, Mr. Mackey struggled into his pants.
Alarmed, Butters quickly shot and wounded them both. As he began to leave the scene, Mr. Mackey looked up at him from the pool of blood bathing his long, skinny body.
"What's this all about, mmmkay? I'm sensing some, uh, very deep emotional issues. You wouldn't shoot all of us for no good reason, right, Butters? Because most killings have motives, mmmkay."
"M-Mr. Mackey, thanks for trying." Another shot rang out, and Butters dashed back to the green car. Backing haphazardly out, he continued down the street, running over those unlucky enough to be out on the street in the monsoon.
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Upstairs in Wendy's room, Stan and Wendy worked together on some math not fully understood by either of them.
"….Ok, so now we divide 73, right?" Stan asked, confused.
"No! Goddamn it, I told you, you've got to square it first! You're so sexy when you're stupid…"
"OK. So that's…" Stan scratched out some math on the margin of the paper. "5305. Now what?"
"Well-" Wendy was interrupted by the squealing of tire on road outside Stan's house. "What the hell was that?"
Both teenagers rushed towards the window and peeked out.
"Whoa, dude!" they both exclaimed at Butters driving a car down the road, squashing several unlucky people under the tires.
"Dude, Butters is fucked up! We've got to tell people!"
"We're going to your house, Stan." Wendy clarified, her look hesitant.
"Yup…"
Wendy led the rush downstairs to her parents.
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OK, some main characters died. That's sad…… Next chappy up as soon as I can pry my eyes off of the Sims 2.…. Ha!
