Kyle awarded Stan with Incredulous Glance Number Twelve Hundred for The Day just before stating,

"You do realize that I was joking when I suggested Canada, right?"

Stan shifted his hands proudly, and thus adjusting the sign he was wielding. It was made out of pink construction paper with particularly obnoxious looking green handwriting upon it that read, "To Canada or Bust!"

"Ask and you shall receive. Raise your thumb out higher." Stan replied.

Kyle went for Number Thirteen Hundred, but did as he was told anyway, because although arguing with crazy people never really had resulted well for him, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he happened to harbor quite a bit of affection for this particular crazy person, he would have argued. And induced some act of physical violence.

That's when a thought hit him.

"Wait a minute, Cartman is doing all of this for twenty dollars." He said.

"That's right." Stan replied.

"And he paid my brother and Fillmore twenty dollars."

"Yes."

Kyle was about to continue on this thought, and how it lacked any kind of logic at all, before he remembered that, because of the way things work in the space of existence in the universe occupied by the small town of South Park, Colorado, if there was such a thing as logic, it existed only to be mocked, and so he shut up. Which was incredibly rare.

Just after creating the aforementioned signs, Stan took the liberty of informing his family that they were planning to hijack a random vehicle with skills they had learned through osmosis thanks to Kenny, driving it without their licenses, to a random hotel, where they would have unsafe sex with each other and various anonymous partners thus resulting in prostituting themselves for cocaine, getting back in the car, and drive off of a cliff in flames. All of this was said without pausing to bat an eyelash. Or breathe. It was a miracle he hadn't had an asthma attack.

Shelly, who in a forgotten plot device was home from college for the summer, had screamed at him from the living room to shut up so that she could watch her show, Sharon was distracted by the ringing phone and said, "Ok, you two kids have fun now." Randy had blinked at them confusedly for a moment and then said, "Wait, what?" just as Stan and Kyle made a dramatic exit from the house, slamming the door behind them. (Which Kyle had commented that it really wasn't necessary, to which Stan insisted that it was, why couldn't he see? It was!)

They had been standing out on the edge of town for about half an hour, when a shiny, lavender convertible blaring a Van Morrison tune came to a stop before them, and Big Gay Al blinked up at the couple.

"Well, hello there silly buns! Long time no see!" He crooned, in that lilting way of his.

"Kyle! Oh my God it's Big Gay Al! And Van Morrison is playing! That means that everything is going to be all right!" Stan cried, and dropped his sign so that he could enthusiastically embrace his…super best friend.

Kyle opened his mouth like he was about to say something, and then shut it. Apparently, the amount of witty and/or sarcastic retorts stored in his brain had caused the delicate system to overload and temporarily crash.

Reboot reboot reboot BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH.

He had just enough system protocol stored away that he was able to smack himself in the face and restore himself before any valuable memory or hardware was lost or erased.

Years later, Kyle would remember it as the day that he had decided that he was spending a little too much time honing his "l33t haxxor skillz"

"So, you two are trying to get to Canada?" Big Gay Al said, gesturing to the abandoned sign.

"As a matter of fact." Kyle said with a shrug.

"…You aren't planning on getting married are you? Because you both know that after how brave you were all those years ago, you are perfectly capable of getting married here. Oh! No never mind! I'm putting horrible ideas in your heads! Kids, as a former scout master, I feel it is my duty to inform you that marriage is an incredibly big step and it isn't something you just rush into, that it is a commitment that…"

"No! Nononono! We aren't getting married, we just need to get away for a bit," Stan said. Kyle had barely begun to affirm this, when Stan grabbed his hand and continued, "We're waiting until after college, and we have enough money saved up to pursue our dreams of someday owning a llama farm."

Kyle, dumbfounded, wasn't sure if he should be more alarmed at how tightly Stan was gripping his hand, how serious he looked when he iterated this, or that Big Gay Al declared that "Oh Stanley, that is just so beautiful, and so, so very super!" and had had to fish out a lacey handkerchief, with which he used to dab at his eyes.

"I hate this town. So much." Kyle grumbled under his breath.

"It just so happens that I myself am on my way to Canada. My assistance as a wedding planner has been requested." Big Gay Al said, once he had regained his composure, with a flourish that was only possible to achieve if you happened to be…well, Big Gay Al. Which he was, I don't think I have to point out to you.

"…You're a wedding planner, too?" Kyle asked, trying to mask his incredulity with polite concern.

"Well, no, but the clients said they wanted the gayest wedding possible, and it turns out that the first wedding planner couldn't handle the pure sweetness of their love for one another and went into a diabetic coma within seconds of signing on, the second turned out to be a crab person, the third turned out to be Saddam Hussein, and now they are barely a few days away from the ceremony and have no idea about flower arrangements or that saffron clashes so horribly with forest green, I mean really was that a joke? And I offered to help out, I mean, I just felt so bad about what almost happened to them, I mean I was promoting it, so here we are. I was conducting a few technical details over the phone, but so close to the date I figure I may as well drive up anyway."

"…Would you mind giving us a lift? We have some money on us, we could chip in for gas money and such, and I think we have enough to at least pay for a couple of nights in a motel so after we get across the border we could just part ways there." Kyle implored.

Big Gay Al looked incredibly torn. The only way he could have looked more torn is if he were split into two pieces, and was literally torn.

"Well, I'd like to boys, I really would, I mean, Slave is busy with the National S&M Convention and this was so last minute I told him it was fine if he went while I was gone since he'd been planning for so long and I would like some company, I mean you kids are just so super…but you just can't up and run away from your troubles! I don't want to get involved, let alone promote something…" Big Gay Al began, when Stan clasped his hands together, and stared wide-eyed at Big Gay Al.

"Oh, please Big Gay Al! Me and Kyle, we're just a couple of mixed up kids in love in this big mixed up world and everyone around us has just been giving us hell and you know how it is when you need to just get away, clear your head. We just need a chance, he and I! And if you could give us just this one chance it would be so, so incredibly super of you!"

Big Gay Al stared at Stan, who had mastered the art of being incredibly gay with such proficiency that even Big Gay Al, the most authentically gay man of all time, thought he passed.

"You have a this, don't you?"

They nodded, and Big Gay Al decided that they looked a little too serious for the situation.

"Get in, you scallywags." He said with a sigh, and unlocked the back doors.

An hour later, Big Gay Al threatened to pull the car over and make them get out and walk if they didn't stop grinning like that because it was getting very, very creepy.