Hello everyone! First of all, a HUGE thanks to you for reviewing! I would not continue this story without all the support and love. This chapter is kinda short and not as entertaining as the first two, but I am going somewhere with this, I promise. As always, please review and lmk your thoughts!

God, I fucking hate working problems in class. And in groups.

And why in Christ's name should we be in groups for doing T-Distributions anyways?

I look at my cell phone. 4:06. Does this mean I've got 39 minutes left of working with these dip-shits?

"Umm, does anyone have the notes from last week?" This dumb twat Ashley asks, sitting across from me.

I rolled my eyes at this stupid bitch. Here was one of the very few girls in the class, and she was as fake and superficial as could be. Her high-lighted hair was flat-ironed straight, she often wore white shorts along with flat sandals, and all her nails were done. She texted the whole time in class and I have no fucking idea how she even passed the pre-reqs for this class.

Tim, a nerdy Indian guy, shyly gave her his notes.

"Here you go," He said quietly and awkwardly, as if he had never seen a girl before in his pathetic and virginal life.

Of course, I wanted to be like "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HELPING HER OUT?", but the last time I did that in a class during a group project I was asked to leave for the day.

I think it would be better if I just half-ass this dumb activity and simply act like I'm part of the team.

So I went to South Park Univeristy's main website to pull up the professor's personal site, as well as I opened up excel. I would feign interest and pretend to listen their inferior chatter, then check my e-mail. I would act like I was helping Ashley, then go to Texts From Last Night. I would nod my head seriously while Zach- the frat boy who thought he was hot shit- explained what worked for him and why we should plot our graphs the same way, then got on Facebook.

I hadn't been on in a few days, so I scrolled the News Feed. Basically, there was a bunch of shit that I didn't care about. Jimmy Valmer took a picture of the new French recipe he cooked for himself last night, My myum posted something embarrassing on my wall about how she missed me, bullshit bullshit bullshit…..

Then I saw something that was somewhat important:

Stan Marsh is engaged to Wendy Testaburger

I saw that this "event" was actually dated for last night, but that they didn't decide to announce it on the Wonderful World of Facebook until today.

"Huh. So the hippie wants to be pussy-whipped for life." I mused.

"Are you even listening, bra?" Zach asked, an irritated expression on his face.

I quickly minimized FB and pulled back up the excel.

"Oh yes of course, sir." I said. "Now please, tell me again how you think we ALL should plot our T-distribution graphs, because you're smarter than the professor?"

The frat-boy shook his head and pulled his calculator closer to him, continuing to work on the problem with the rest of the group. Pretty sure he mumbled "asshole" under his breath.

I smiled, letting my mind get used to the idea of Stan as a married man.

The thought itself made me laugh.

THE NEXT DAY

"Hi Eric!" Butters energetically greeted me in the kitchen.

"Your first class isn't until 12:30, right Eric?" He asked, looking at the clock on the stove. It read 11:30.

"That's right," I said stretching. "It's Thursday, right Butters?"

"Right Eric!" He responded with a smile as he grabbed a spatula to flip the pancakes he was making. I couldn't help but notice the minty-green apron he was wearing while making breakfast. I live with such a fag.

"Riiight…" I mumbled, too tired to make a homophobic joke. I stayed up until 2:00 last night working on Calc 3 problems. It was a bitch.

As I turned to go back in my room, Butters said, "Oh Eric?" He asked.

"Yes Butters?"

"You know that Stan is coming over tonight, right?"

The FUCK?

"No Butters," I said flatly. "I did not know that."

"He didn't text you too?"

I shook my head. "Nope." But then again, I hadn't turn on my cellphone yet either.

"W-well, you see," Butters started to explained, setting the spatula on the counter next to the stove.

"Stan said he wants to spend some time with us fellas, l-like a 'Man's Night Out' or something." He paused awkwardly. "I think he wants to celebrate the occasion."

"If that's what the hippie wants," I shrugged. "In this apartment, that's a dumb fucking idea, but….."

"What was that Eric?"

"Nothing Butters."

I retreated back in my room and took a quick shower, followed by getting dressed. I finally turned on my cell phone and then I saw the mass text that Butters was talking about. I re-read it and saw that Butters had actually quoted some of Stan's wording.

'Celebrate the occasion', huh Stan? I thought to myself.

A party nowadays is completely different from a party during our freshmen year. Stan just doesn't get it. He has no fucking idea what he's getting himself into. But then again, he's always been that way. Dumb and fucking oblivious to life.

I walked in the kitchen to grab a sandwich from the fridge that I made the night before. Butters already took his breakfast and was back in his room. I heard someone coming in the front.

"'Sup Jew?"

"Not much, fatass." The soulless daywalker responded. Today he actually seemed coherent, as in neither drunk or hungover. He tossed his backpack by the couch as he walked over to where I was, standing next to the fridge.

At first I thought he was going to get in my face, but instead he opened the fridge and got out a beer.

Typical.

"So, how'd that test go that you fail a few days ago?" I asked curiously.

Grabbing a beer bottle opener and then heading back to the couch, the Jew said, "Don't know. Don't have the results yet."

"Well, I'm sure you blew it," I said in a reassuring tone. The Jew rolled his eyes. He got out his cell phone, as if not wanting to talk about that shit-show from a few days ago.

"Speaking of blowing it," I added as I walked up to the Lazy-Boy couch, my left hand on my backpack and the right one on the back of the chair.

"You DO know your boyfriend is coming over tonight, right?"

The Jew didn't glance up from his phone. He sort-of mumbled some sort of sound for acknowledgement, completely not phased. Honestly, I was a bit surprised to see him so apathetic when talking about his Super Best Friend. It was almost like he didn't want to talk about it at all.

But then again, Kyle seems to have less and less life in him as each day goes by.

After he didn't respond- much less LOOK up at me from his phone- I was ready to leave.

"Okay Kahl, I'm off to make anti-Semitic slurs then." I said as I closed the door before me.

I thought the stupid hippie as I was walking to class. I'm going to tell Stan what a bitch he is.

I'm also going to tell him that we should postpone his little "celebration".