note ;; OCs may be recycled if I enjoy writing them and I write them to your standards. I realize some people wanted other pairings, but I wrote what I pictured when reading your OC submissions. Don't worry if yours isn't here, because I will be using some more. Especially Connor and Laura. ;) So no fears to those of you who aren't here. Also, please be patient with me. I've never done an OC story before, so if your OC isn't down pat, just let me know and I'll certainly work on it.

note ii ;; I'll still accept new OC submissions. Later chapters may be much shorter, and I may end up making each chapter a single date. Let me know what you think about that. This chapter seems a tad long for a humor, what do you think? Please do review. I love reviews.

chosen oc's ;; Alice Lufkin, Shirley Baker, and Angelina Marsh

next chapter ;; A total surprise. ='D

Alice Lufkin bounces in her seat, grinning widely at the girls across from her. They don't seem as enthused to be here, but no one can possibly measure up to Alice's enthusiasm anyway. The bus rumbles to a stop, and she giggles excitedly. "Alice can't believe we're all here! Alice wonders if he's cute! Maybe he'll bring Alice to China! Alice has never been to China, y'know, but she hears they have really pretty colors out there."

Shirley Baker looks up from picking her nose, bewilderment across her face. "Does my hair look okay? I mean, I brushed it and combed it and put some good-smelling stuff in it, like it was named La Perfume or something, it sounded expensive, but I don't know if it looks okay."

Angelina Marsh grins and rolls her eyes. "Your hair looks like a billion bucks," she says. "Don't sweat it, I'm sure he'll be all over you when he gets the chance."

Shirley pats her hair down and smiles. "Cool."

Over the speaker, the man driving the bus clears his throat. "Well, girls, this is where one of you gets off and starts the date. Remember your parts. No swearing! God knows that fatass swears enough for everyone on the show and in the crew. Goddam..." Coughing, he gets back on track. "Alice, looks like you're first up. So walk out the door and do something dramatic."

Alice jumps up. "This is gonna be awesome!" she exclaims. Bouncing out of her seat, she rushes to the door and pushes it open, throwing her hands out and giving the waiting cameraman a crazy face. The man looks confused and a little scared, but she grins and continues down the stairs. Later, on television, as she is giving a crazy face, the screen will pause and the following will be displayed : Alice Lufkin, 10 years old, Student, Saw The Hangover three hundred times in theaters, Bakes 'special' brownies.

That is later, and this is now.

She bounces happily up to the table that is set up and eagerly looks for her date.

Cartman walks from around the side of the white tent and stops. "NEXT!" he shouts.

"Cut!"

The Director stalks over to the pair. "Eric Cartman! What did I say?"

"You didn't say anything about nexting someone as soon as they walk out," he replies.

"We have a show to make, kid! Do you want to be kicked off?"

"Goddamnit, no I don't want to be kicked off! She's hurting my eyes! It looks like a gay smurf ate skittles and puked up her outfit!" Cartman protests.

The Director takes the sunglasses off his hat, shoving them towards Eric. "Take these and make this date last!"

"Fine. Jesus. You don't have to be a crabass about it..."

Alice stares at the confrontation, her eyes wide as saucers. She looks down at her outfit, consisted completely of neon pink, green, and blue, and wonders what exactly is hurting to look at. The colors look great together. "Buona giomata!"

Eric stares at her.

"Buona giomata!" she repeats.

"What the fuck are you saying?" he asks. "Are you a goddamned Chinese?"

"Eric!" the director shouts angrily.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Cartman calls, waving his hands in a symbol of peace. He gestures towards her enthusiastically. "She's spewing gibberish, she's a witch!"

"Alice is not a witch!" she protests. "Alice simply said, hello, in Italian. It's her natural language, y'know."

"Oh, fuck me," Cartman whispers under his breath. "It talks in third person."

The Director shakes his head, whispering to the camera man, "We'll just have to edit him out in the end. Let him think he's going to be on the show."

Alice looks down. "So what are we doing?" she asks.

"I thought we could go on a bridge and push you off," Cartman suggests.

Alice looks shocked, and the Director almost calls cut.

Cartman quickly catches himself, shrugging. "I mean, we can base jump off that bridge." The place he points to is a tall bridge, far over the ground, towering into the sky.

Alice gulps. "Um... Alice... doesn't really like heights," she explains. "They make her uncomfortable."

"All the more reason for us to get up there," Cartman says, leading the way as Alice follows behind. "So what do you like to do?"

"Alice likes to play her violin, and sometimes, if she has a lot of time, she likes to paint. Oh, oh, and figure skating!" Alice replies, happy the conversation is changing. Maybe she can convince him to not go to the scary bridge, after all!

"Seriouslah?" he asks.

"Oh, yes."

"No. No, no, no. Next."

Alice puffs her cheeks out, glaring daggers at him. "What?" she demands. "Like I need your stupid date anyway, you mean pile of lard!" Snorting and turning away, she quickly walks back to the bus, leaving a miffed, yet amused, Cartman behind. As she climbs onto the bus, she is bombarded by questions.

"Is he cute?"

"What's he like?"

"You took the money, didn't you?"

She looks up at Angelina Marsh, frowning. "There was money? No one told Alice about this," she muses. "Should she go back and ask?"

The bus driver pipes up over the speakers. "No money, honeys, just some good old entertainment. You're all underage, and it'd be considered prostitution. Not sayin' I don't like a prostitute, but... well... you know. Underage prostitutes are a pretty big fine around... Ahem, well, anyway, Angelina, its your turn. Remember to do something crazy going out the door."

Arching her eyebrows, Angelina nods to her two companions before walking out the door. She gives a peace sign to the camera man, sticking her tongue out. This is the part where, on the television, it will pause, and on the screen will be displayed the following ; Angelina Marsh, 10 years old, Student, Knows the words to Alejandro by heart, Probably bipolar because of her little sisters.

But not now.

She parades down the walkway to Cartman, who is staring at her with wide eyes. She pretends not to notice, and instead looks at the assortment of objects on the table. "Are we having a toy party?" she asks, winking.

Cartman rolls his eyes, even if he secretly likes a chick that can tell a dirty joke. "No, we're going to make sculptures out of the shit here. Sounds pretty gay to me, but whatever, that's what the producers said."

Moving over to the assortment of objects, Angelina picks up a long stick. "So, are they overcompensating for something?"

Cartman almost laughs, but catches himself. "No," he says again, trying to sound irritated. "Stop trying to be funny, its not working."

Angelina tries to ignore his annoying comments, but she finds she cant. Its in her genes to be annoyed easily, and she tosses the stick down. "Fine, Mr. Sassy Pants, whatever. What are we doing, since you're so obviously in charge?"

Taken aback, Cartman takes a moment to gather his thoughts. "I guess the director says we have to introduce ourselves. I'm Eric Cartman, you better remember it."

"Angelina Marsh," she says, holding her hand out for a friendly shake.

"No way," Cartman breaths. "Are you related to Stan Marsh?"

"He's my cousin," Angelina answers.

"Sick, dude. No way am I going on a date with that fag boy's cousin! Next!"

Angelina throws her hands up. "Like I wanted to date your fat ass, you chunk of gristle!" She spins around and stalks back to the bus, fuming as she boards. The girls look at her, but she offers no insight to what happened. She sits down and crosses her arms, muttering under her breath in different languages.

The bus driver crackles over the intercom again. "So, um, Shirley, looks like its your turn. Knock 'em dead, you sexy-" he stops and static is heard before he comes back. "Shit, I mean, you awesome chick. Yeah. Sexy would mean I thought prepubescent girls are sexy, and I definitely don't think that. Haha, no way."

Shirley finishes picking her nose and runs her hand through her hair. "This is going to be awesome," she says. As she walks down the steps of the bus, she trips and flails, falling face-first towards the camera man. In this moment, as she is making a face of shock and her mouth is open in a silent scream, the television will pause, and the following will be displayed ; Shirley Baker, 10 years old, Student, Dungeon Master for a nerdy game, Has read all the Harry Potter books, Couldn't walk straight to save her life.

Ah, the power to know the future.

She falls to the ground and picks herself up immediately, grinning. "I'm okay!" she announces to an unfazed crowd of camera crew. She walks to Cartman and holds her hand out, a booger hanging from her finger. "I'm Shirley Baker!" she says. "Nice to meet you!"

"What is on your face?" Cartman asks bluntly, side-stepping the introductions.

She retracts her hand and puts it over the mole. "Nothing! Mind your own business!"

"If I'm going to be dating you, I should know about the growth on your face. It might be contagious and I don't want cooties."

Frowning, she keeps her hand over her face. "I thought we were supposed to be on a date! Why are you being so mean?"

Cartman sighs, shaking his head as he puts an arm around her shoulders. He leads her in the direction of the bus slowly as he talks. "Listen, Shirley - is it okay if I call you Shirley?-, I don't want to be mean, but you're not really in my league. You're about a zero, and I'm, well, I'm a Hero. And you can never contend."

"What does that mean?" Shirley asks.

"Next!" Cartman replies, pushing her towards the bus. "Haha! Like any of you had a chance!"

Shirley runs to the bus, hiding her face in her hands. As she gets on the bus, the other girls bombard her with questions.

The Director walks to Cartman and glares. "What did I tell you?"

"Not to next them immediately."

"Or within two minutes."

"Jesus Christ, man, did you see the thing on her face? And a booger on her finger! Booger!" Cartman protests.

"No," the Director says, shaking his head as he walks back to the director's chair.