Author's note: Lexus's explanation of the requirements of her job comes straight out of the Hooter's Girls Employee Handbook. And I'm not apologizing for that.

Chapter Three: The Raisins Girl's Handbook

Butters was still trying to figure out what was going on when he felt an arm around his shoulder. Someone was handing him a moist paper towel and some napkins and sitting down next to him.

"I saw the whole thing," she said. "Here, sweetheart, don't cry over a jerk like him, your boyfriend doesn't deserve you."

Butters shook his head slowly. "H-he wasn't my boyfriend."

Lexus squeezed him around the shoulders. "Well, no! Not after the way he behaved, nagging you about your weight, I mean, who does he think he is?"

"I-I better go now." Butters started to get up, but Lexus pushed him down in his seat.

"Listen," she said, "my shift is ending soon, and I don't think you should be alone. Why don't you wait for me and I'll walk you to the bus stop or wherever?"

Butters tried to give her the paper towel back. "I don't think I n-need this, " he said.

"That's right, sweetie, don't you cry one tear over him!"

He looked up at her, still clutching the paper towel. "Hu-hey. Why are you bein' so nice to me?"

Lexus smiled at him. "Oh, you know. We girls have got to stick together! Gotta go!" And she bounced off to another table.

Butters sat stunned. Cartman was right! He had been right all along! Lexus was one of those girls who didn't like Chef. Whatever they were called.

He didn't know how long he sat there, maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour, but then he felt a tap on his shoulder. "OK!" Lexus said cheerfully. "Time to go!" She was wearing a short raincoat over her Raisins uniform. "Do you have a coat?"

"No-no," Butters stammered, worse than usual, "i-it . . . I d-didn't. . . .it w-wasn't. . . .Hey, aren't you hot? What do you have to wear that coat for?"

"Can't wear the uniform outside, it's one of the rules. Come on," Lexus said, slipping her arm through his. They went out through the front doors. The last time he'd walked this way with Lexus, a big bodyguard had been standing in between them, and now she was alone with him, holding his arm. It really was a warm night, almost hot, and humid, too. "OK," she said, "now I can tell you."

"What?" Butters said, his voice rising. "Are you lezzing out on me or something? Hu-hey, what's the d-deal with you, anyway?"

Lexus dropped his arm. She looked mad, then disappointed. "No," she said finally. "No. I was just trying to be friendly. I know what it's like to have to deal with jerks like your boyfriend. I deal with them all day. Every day."

Butters didn't say anything. There didn't seem to be anything to say. "I'm sorry," he said finally.

"That's ok," she said, trying to smile a bit more. "I guess maybe it did seem a little funny—but honest, I was just trying to be helpful. Say, what's your name?"

"Marjorine."

"Well, Marjorine, I'm Lexus," she said, starting to walk with him again. "I don't know, you seem like such a nice person, and he seemed so mean—so pushy."

"You don't know the half of it, " Butters agreed.

"I mean, " Lexus went on, "look at the way he was trying to control your appearance. That really gets me. Every day when I get ready for work, I have to look perfect. My hair has to be dried and styled, I can't wear a hat or a scrunchie or anything in my hair. I can only wear certain colors of lipstick and fingernail polish. I have to carry an extra pair of pantyhose, because if I snag them I could be sent home. I have to be camera ready—do you know what that means, Marjorine?"

"No, I don't," he said honestly.

"It means I have to look—at any moment—like I could pose for a calendar picture. I have to sign an agreement that says I understand that 'the work environment is one in which joking and innuendo based on female sex appeal is commonplace.' So pretty much, no matter what a guy says to me," she said, "I've got to let it go and smile and bring him his wings."

This brought up something Butters wasn't sure he wanted to think about. "Bu-but," he said, "I'm sure some nice guys must come in there, you know, some guys who want to be your boyfriend."

Lexus laughed. "Oh, boy, you said it! They all want to be your boyfriend, but jeez, honestly, would you date a guy you met that way, Marjorine? I can't anyway, because that's the rules: I can't date customers. All I can do is smile and say that I hope he comes back to Raisins. I have to treat them all the same."

"Bu-but. . . " Butters said, a little angrily, "isn't that like being a ho?"

"What is wrong with you, Marjorine?" Lexus snapped. "First you think I'm a lesbian. Now you're calling me a ho. How dare you talk to me like that? You don't even know me!"

That was true, Butters realized. He didn't know her. In fact, this was the most she'd ever really said to him, if you didn't count, "Hi, welcome to Raisins, why don't you come down to Raisins, sweetie, hey there, cutie, can I take your order?" Still. . . .

"But there must be some guys, " he said slowly, "who—you know—think you really mean it."

Lexus snorted. "Oh, come on, Marjorine. What guy would be that naïve?"

There was a long, long pause. "I-I was, " he said softly.

"What?" she said.

"Me." Butters took off his wig. His head started getting wet; it must have started to rain and he hadn't even noticed. "You know. Butters." She stared at him. "Your ex-boyfriend. B-Butters." It still didn't seem to be registering. "Butters Stotch." Still nothing. "Leopold Stotch."

"Oh," she said finally. "Are you that kid who was in the dance contest?"

"Yeah," he said. "An' I was your boyfriend."

She shook her head. "No, you weren't."

He sighed. "I guess I thought I was."

"Oh," she said. "Butters. I think I remember you now. You brought your parents down to Raisins, didn't you?"

Butters hadn't needed the napkins she'd handed him before, but he sure felt like he needed them now.

"Wow," she said slowly. "Wow." They started to walk through the light rain, a bit slower this time. "But—" she said, "why are you wearing a dress? Why were you there with that guy? Are you, like, gay?"

"Wu-why would I be so upset about—what makes you think I'd be g-gay? I called you for weeks!"

"Well, you could be bi, I mean, I wouldn't know."

"No," said Butters, "I'm not—and d-don't change the subject, L-Lexus, you really broke my heart!" He dropped the wig on the sidewalk—that stupid wig—and looked down at it, not really seeing it. "It sure did hurt," he said, finally.

"Oh, Butters. I'm really, really sorry. Really, really, sorry, " she added, and put her arm around him again.

Butters shrugged his shoulders. "What's that for? I'm no girl. I don't have no money. What are you huggin' me for?"

"Because I'm sorry you're having such a bad day. Look, " said Lexus, "I don't know who that guy was—"

"Eric Cartman," Butters said, dully.

"—But from the little I saw he was acting like a real bully."

"Well, he is one," Butters admitted.

"He made you wear that dress, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"What I want to know is—"

"How?"

"No. I want to know why. Why did you let him bully you into putting on a dress?"

Butters thought very hard.

"Because I felt sorry for him."

Lexus sighed. "Oh, Butters. You can't date people because you feel sorry for them!"

"No," said Butters, "I guess not."

"Why do you feel sorry for him, anyway?"

"Well," Butters said, "because he said he can't ever get a date. 'Cause he's too b-big-boned and no girl likes him."

"You were on a date with him. Would you like him? Would you go on a second date with him?"

"Well, no."

"Because he's fat?"

"No."

"That's right. I know you don't believe this, but I see guys every day—every day, Butters—and some of them act like your friend, and some don't. The ones who act like your friend, it doesn't matter what they look like. He could go on a diet and—and, I don't know—dye his hair and wear cool clothes and he would still be a guy I wouldn't date, and no," she lifted her head up, "you couldn't pay me enough money to go anywhere with him."

The rain had stopped. Butters felt very small now. "Wu-well, " he stammered, "Wu-what about me? Would you go out with me?"

Lexus put her hand on his shoulder. "Maybe, Butters, maybe if I met you somewhere else, some other time. I don't even know how old you are. I think you're too young to worry about girlfriends, but if you do want to find one, find a girlfriend at school or church, or doing something you like. Maybe," she smiled, "a girl who can dance."

"G-gosh, I s-sure hope not," Butters said fervently.

"But don't try to find a girlfriend at a restaurant, especially not waiting on your table. A waitress has to be nice to you, see? Because it's just her job. Find someone who doesn't have to be nice to you, who just likes you for you. I guarantee she won't care about getting money out of you if she likes you." She looked up, "Wow. This is my bike, Butters. I've really gotta go now."

"Oh—ok, Lexus. Could I tell my friend some of what you said?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, "if you think it'll do any good."

"I think it might," Butters said honestly. "Poor ol' Eric, he's so worried about people thinkin' he's fat, he forgets to just be nice."

"Well, if you think he can be nice, Butters, go ahead and try."

"Oh, I'm sure he is," Butters insisted, "deep down. Way deep down."

Lexus smiled at him one more time. "Well, you're nice, Butters. You're nice through and through. And," she added, as he looked a bit dubious, "I'm not saying that because I have to. I don't have to. I'm not going to say 'See you at Raisins,' because this isn't work. But maybe I'll run into you someday." She gave him a quick hug. "You take care of yourself, Butters. Be careful out there." She threw one leg over her bike, waved goodbye, and rode off down the damp street.

He waved goodbye back. I will, Lexus, he thought. I will.