Come the Eighth of May, they gathered at the edge of town to catch their bus. There were six kids from South Park, the other counties had about the same number, give or take. To be exact, from South Park came Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Wendy, and Bébé. The only kids from their town who had actually filled out and turned in the applications. Go figure.

Once they got on the bus, which was quite miserable and squeaked at them, yes, at them, yes, intentionally, they got their team assignments. Only Cartman and Bébé were on the same team, the reds, which Cartman had a problem with because he wasn't a "dirty, freaking, hippie, pink-o commie" and insisted that the team name be changed to blood, but Bébé argued that blood eventually turned black or an ugly brownish, and got him to shut up for a minute. Kenny was on orange, Kyle green, Stan blue, and Wendy purple. Go figure.

Adding to their misery, their first task was to come up with a team cheer. This was fine for Stan's, Kyle's, Cartman, and Bébé's teams, for Wendy's it took some creativity and team work but was eventually successful, but poor Kenny was forced to spend the lengthy ride out to Telluride wondering what, exactly, rhymes with orange.

Then they were forced into a trust walk, where they were blindfolded and forced to hold hands and stumble around awkwardly dragging each other around rural Telluride. Kenny died about halfway through, and since they were all blindfolded, no one knew exactly how, but the hazardous weaving through electrical chicken wire was a popular theory.

Finally, they got to the actual camp site, which was ironically a hotel in the very center of the town. Without their luggage, it must be added, which was left on the bus about three miles back. They were told that it would arrive. Eventually.

With very little hope of ever again seeing their personal belongings, and for those from other counties having never heard of Kenny McCormick, very little hope of surviving, they stumbled into the lobby of the hotel.

And so, Stan found himself wondering why, exactly, he had decided to come, and from the look on Kyle's face, he was thinking the same thing.

"Stan, why exactly did we decide to come?" Kyle asked, for the sake of repetition and predictability.

Stan leaned over and whispered, "I have a crowbar in my duffle bag."

Kyle blinked.

"Stan, why do you have a crowbar in your duffle bag?"

"I figure, just in case, I'll kill Kenny on the bus home. So then there'll be a delay, and then we'll miss prom!" Stan laughed, almost maniacally, into Kyle's ear.

Kyle's sensitivity and moral standards were kicking in again.

"Dude! You are planning to kill so that you can avoid prom!"

"Shh! Chill, dude, not so loud! I think it's a pretty flawless plan." Stan laughed again.

"Stan. You. Are. Insane." Kyle said, but once again, Stan was infectious.

"Hey, is it any different than you climbing on a bus with a knife and every intent of murdering the Fab Five so that you wouldn't be ostracized?" Stan asked.

"Yes, it is different! I was nine, and they were Crab People!" Kyle protested through his laughter.

"You wish it was different." Stan said.

"Stan, you're an idiot."

"But you love me."

"Yeah, yeah. Why are you so intent on avoiding prom, anyway?"

"Because I love you."

And there it was said. Finally acknowledged. No turning back now. They couldn't see each others eyes, but it still felt the same, that inability to break the connection. They just stood there, pressed gently against each other, cheek to cheek. So close. They could smell each other, and it was tantalizing and infectious, and they wanted to just stand there and smell each other for eternity.

Actually, it wasn't so much of a smell, as a feeling. They were guessing pheromones, the type of chemical that influenced animal behavior of others of the same species, often functioning as a sexual attractant. Or, in more juvenile terms "cooties."

"That doesn't make any sense." Kyle added after a minute, and they laughed again. Then Kyle noticed Cartman giving them that look again, and Stan noticed Wendy giving them an eerily similar look and they mutually, and reluctantly, came to the decision that they had to part. And it sucked ass.

Then they had to find a way to situate themselves with the rest of their team at the team tables. Stan found the blue table next to the red, allowing him to search for Bébé's curls.

"Bébé," He called upon seeking her out, and approached her, extending his hand, "Can you give me a cootie shot, please?"

She looked at him for a minute, and then Kyle hurried by and they both shifted their eyes to ogle his ass. Bébé of course noticed this and giggled, suddenly getting it, although she had had the feeling for quite some time. And Wendy, being a closet slash fangirl, was closely monitoring every "progression" in the Stan and Kyle saga.

"C'mere," She said, and took his hand and began to chant, "Circle, circle, dot…"

"No…" Stan said last minute, and quickly pulled his hand away as if he had been electrocuted. Bébé's smile grew.

"I know," She said, patting his shoulder affectionately, "Those are the kind of cooties that it would be a mistake to get rid of. You're lucky to realize it."

Stan shrugged, and returned her smile with a weak one.

"Thanks, Bébé." And then he found his seat.

And then the first lecture started, but Stan found his mind wandering, and found himself pondering. Why, exactly, was it so hard? What, exactly, were they afraid of, or were trying to keep from happening, or make sure happened? Why were they wasting so much time, and yet seeing and salvaging and enjoying it to its fullest? What exactly was going on?

And why, exactly, did he feel as if he was actually supposed to be inspired by this lecture somehow, but it was really just not that important in the long run, in comparison?

Oh, the drama.