Kyle slowed his motorcycle down to a stop and placed one foot on the ground to balance him and the bike. He was at an intersection, in the center was a wooden sign pointing in four different directions; one pointed to South Park, one to another town, and two towards the same town, the one he needed to go to. The one pointing straight ahead said two hundred miles, while the one pointing right said one hundred. It was a hundred mile difference, so why did the road to the right look like the road less taken…? Maybe it was structurally unstable for cars. But he had a motorcycle, so regardless; he'd be able to make it through.
With that in mind, he whipped the bike to the right and kept riding. The path was older, nearly all dirt, and was completely over hung with dead or dying trees. Potholes lined the road on either side, forcing him to have to drive straight down the middle. Was no one taking care of the road? Kyle could now tell why that was the road less taken.
Still, he thought, I'll get there faster.
He kept riding down the road at his normal speed of fifty five, only slowing down if he had to swerve around a pothole or part of a downed tree. Aside from that, everything was going well; the road was smooth as could be.
After another ten miles or so, Kyle slowed down to swerve around a large tree trunk and suddenly hit a pothole that he was unable to see. The front wheel caught and came to a sudden halt, sending Kyle flying off of the bike and crashing into a puddle of mud that was inside of another pothole.
Groaning, he pushed himself up with his left arm. "Fuck." He tore his helmet off so he could see in the dark as the sun completely set and the headlight from his motorcycle faded to dark. His right arm felt like it was on fire and he found that he couldn't move it without a sharp, severe pain running through it.
He slowly stood, not caring that he was completely doused in mud on the right half of his body. He gripped onto his right arm as he limped back to his motorcycle; he pulled a small flashlight out of the satchel attached to the right side of it and shined it at the front tire. Completely blown. Dammit. It wasn't like he'd be able to drive with his banged up arm anyway, he just didn't want to leave his bike in the middle of the woods.
"Guess I'll call up Stan," he muttered. Stan wouldn't like hearing that he crashed in the middle of the woods and was unable to drive his bike because of the wheel and his arm, but he had to call him. Kyle reached into his jacket pocket and grabbed his cell phone to call Stan, but when he slid it open, a notice popped up that said there was no service. "Dammit!" He stuffed his cell phone back into his pocket. "What now?"
He pulled his green hat from his pant pocket and pulled it down over his head as the winter air began blowing. I should've just taken the long way. There might've been a gas station or a hotel by now. He sighed and gripped back onto his arm as the pain continued coursing through it.
He sat down on the edge of the motorcycle's seat and sighed. Surely there was a hotel or something further down the road, but the problem was that he didn't know how long he'd have to walk before reaching something or someone that would help him.
The howling of a wolf pack brought Kyle out of his thoughts. He jumped to his feet; that sounded really close. He grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and stuffed them into his pant pocket. He didn't figure anyone would come by, so surely his invention would be fine for a little while he went to get help.
With his left hand still gripping onto his right arm, he began walking in the direction he'd been riding. Hopefully he'd come across some place soon, especially with the wolves in the trees nearby.
As he walked, he looked around with scared eyes as he heard the rustling of leaves and saw flashes of fur. Wolves? He began running, scared that they try to attack him, praying that something would come up soon. That's when the wolves jumped out from behind the trees and began chasing him.
"Shit!" Kyle pushed his legs to as fast as they would go, his blue converse smacking against hard against the dirt as he ran. He wasn't sure how long it took, but finally, he found himself pushing against a metal gate, trying to swing it open so that he could get to the gothic castle beyond. "Open up!" He screamed, unsure if anyone could hear him.
He turned his head in time to see the wolves running at him, ready to lunge. He gave another push on the gate, this time it opened and he fell down on the other side and kicked it closed with his foot, hearing the lock fall into place when he did.
One of the wolves caught the bottom of Kyle's pant leg in its jaw. Still screaming, he kicked at the nose of the wolf until it released him and he scrambled back until he made his way to his feet. Terrifyingly, he stared at the wolves until they finally dispersed back into the woods before turning into the castle. Without realizing it, he left his hat on the ground from when he fell down.
…
Unwillingly, Stan opened his eyes as his alarm clock sounded off at nine the next morning. He hit the "off" button and with tired eyes looked at his cell phone. No calls or text messages. Kyle should be there by now; did he forget to call…?
He sat on the edge of his bed and clicked the speed-dial for Kyle's cell phone. He waited as the phone rang four times before it went to voicemail: "Hey, you've reached Kyle. Leave a message at the tone."
Stan sighed as the tone to record a voice message sounded off. "Kyle, did you forget something? …Well, look, if you don't call me back in an hour, I'm gonna come looking for you, alright? So call me back as soon as you get this message. Bye." He clicked the "end" button and stood up, stretching as he did.
He opened his closet door and pulled out a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of baggy blue jeans. Today was going to be a lazy day as long as Kyle called back and reassured him that he was alright, he wasn't going to go meet Craig, he really didn't want to. Instead, Stan grabbed his violin out of its case and looked at the two page sheet music in front of him, the song Wendy gave him yesterday, Beauty and the Beast.
He played it beautifully, not missing a single note, crescendo, or quick rest. About halfway through the song, someone beat on the door with their fist loudly, catching his attention. He sighed deeply when he had to suddenly cut off during the main chord of the song; he sighed again when he realized that he knew who was at the door before even moving to answer it.
"I'm coming," Stan said as he set his instrument on the desk next to his metal music stand. He looked out of the peephole of the door, his suspicions only being confirmed when he saw Craig standing there. "Wonderful," he muttered, rolling his eyes.
With even less willingness than when he woke up, Stan opened the door, finding Craig barging his way in. The dark haired man sat down in a chair at the white washed desk Stan had set his violin on, swinging his legs around to try to rest them on top of the violin. Stan dashed forward and managed to save his instrument, but unfortunately not the bow for the violin, Craig's legs snapped it clean in half.
"So, babe," Craig said, pretending like he didn't see the clear rage on Stan's face at breaking the violin bow, "what do you think about marrying a stud of a man?"
Stan smirked defiantly. "I would love to marry Kyle."
Craig ground his teeth together. That little…! How dare he mock him? Before he blew up, he took a calming breath and said, "No, no, not that lunatic. I meant," he grabbed Stan's wrist and brought him closer to him, "a handsome, strong, man. Like me." He wiggled his eyebrows.
Stan made a face and slipped his wrist out of Craig's so that he could put his violin back into its case. Craig was starting to annoy him with the constant flirting and proposals; no one could blame him for trying to annoy him in return. "Look, Craig," he ducked under the other boy's arm when he tried to pin him against the wall, "you're a really cool guy," he was trying to boost his ego to get him out of the house, "and I think you'll be good for someone."
Craig followed Stan to the front door and put his hands to either side of Stan's head, his back against the door. "Well, you're perfect for me."
"I'm sorry Craig," Stan grabbed the doorknob and twisted, sending Craig tumbling to the ground outside, "but you're just not my type."
Stan couldn't help but laugh as Craig fell face first into a puddle of mud and Tweek cued up a small band to start playing a wedding march. He shut the door, still laughing, and walked back over to where his broken bow was sitting. The laugh disappeared, replaced by anger. Just great! It'd take forever to save up for a new bow since his job sucked! "Godammit!"
Instead of throwing it away, he put it back in the case to show Kyle. Maybe if he showed him the bow when he got back, he'd help him buy a new one. Oh yeah, what time was it? He looked at his cell phone. An hour has gone by already? Kyle still hadn't called back.
He clicked the speed-dial again and held the phone to his ear. This time, it went straight to voicemail. "Hey there, you've reached Kyle. Leave a message at the tone."
"Dammit," Stan cursed into the voicemail. "Kyle, I don't know if you got my last message, but I'm heading your way right now. If you can, call back as soon as you get this message!" He slammed his phone shut and grabbed his brown jacket. He stuffed his dark brown wallet into his back pocket and walked out into the garage, grabbing his black motorcycle helmet before whipping the white sheet used to protect his cherry red motorcycle from Kyle's experiments off and dropping it to the ground.
Stan pushed his bike out of the garage and slammed the door shut. He pulled on his helmet, ignoring the looks he was getting from the people still hanging around from Craig's embarrassment. He threw his leg over it and started it up, quickly revving the engine before speeding off in the direction Kyle had rode off in.
