A/N:

Hi guys! :D Yay for updating quickly? Will I be rewarded with reviews? WOO HOO! I actually wrote this on a school computer, XD funny, right? Well, anywho, I would like to give thanks to the user, OffiKennyMcCormick, because she gave me MEGA EPIC ideas! Love you, dude! 3 Thanks for the help. This chapter, like the last one, is dedicated you you. Okay, ^_^ I'm super amazingly excited to be writing this! THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME READERS! Now! Sit back, relax, and possibly piss your pants from the epic-factor of the sixth chapter of: And Then There Were Fewer.

~NO POV~

"KYLE!" Butters hissed, reaching out blindly in the darkness. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here! Dude, what the fuck is going on?" Kyle replied shakily. He was scared, probably because he'd just been dragged out of the kitchen in the dark, and now he could see nothing but black. And only being able to hear Butters' voice wasn't too reassuring, either.

"I, uh, t-think we're upstairs. I can hear them screaming down there!" Butters was also shaking, possibly even more violently then the Jew. Said red-head suddenly heard a nauseating gurgle and a splash on the hard wood floor. Butters had vomited.

"Sick, dude!" He groaned. Butters apologized, and they finally figured out where they were. "Butters, I think we're in the upstairs hallway. Henrietta's room is right there," he pointed, "and there's sure to be a closet around here somewhere. We can hide in it!"

"O-okay, Kyle," Butters was glad to have been paired up with Kyle. He was super smart. Pretty soon, they found a closet and took shelter inside it. "So, who do you think is doing it?" the blond whispered.

"I really don't know, Butters. I just want to get the hell out of this house!" Kyle sighed. "But we can't. Not without dying."

"I don't wanna die!"

"I know you don't. That's why we just have to stay in here. We can only hope that the killer doesn't find us," the ginger looked around nervously, though it was no help because everything was still pitch black. "And that nobody else gets killed."

That was certainly not the case downstairs. Everybody was screaming at each other to die, to get murdered already. They just wanted to end this nightmare. Kenny probably possessed the most insane mind at the party. He was rocking back and forth in the corner, sucking his thumb like a baby. Even though he faced this sort of thing all the time, seeing Timmy's mangled body was too much for him to handle. He, Clyde, Bradley, Stan, the Goths (minus Henrietta), Jimmy, Craig and Tweek were the only ones left. As far as they knew, Kyle and Butters had been killed, and dragged out of the dark room by their ankles. Their screams of terror echoed in everybody's minds as they tried to forget the awful deaths. Little did they know, Kyle and Butters remained alive, hiding upstairs in a linen closet.

"T-t-t-t-t-t-t-timmy!" Jimmy sobbed. He glared at all of the remaining people in the room. (Other people, like a group of girls, had tried to flee the house, and ended up dying. Only the boys remained.) "One of y-y-y-you did this t-t-t-t-to him!" the handicapped teen accused. "I know you d-d-d-d-d-did!"

"How do we know it wasn't you, Jimmy?" Clyde argued. The only reason he came to this "stupid party" as he put it, was because he heard that there would be Taco Bell. And he had yet to see any burritos. "You could just as easily have killed Timmy, and tried to blame it on us, so as to not seem suspicious!"

"Why in the h-h-h-h-h-h-hell would I kill my best f-f-f-friend?" Jimmy screamed.

"Because you wouldn't want us to suspect you! It's the perfect excuse. But I see through your clever tricks, cripple boy!" Clyde shouted, starting to shake. He just wanted his god damn Taco Bell.

"What the fuck is your problem, Clyde?" Stan exclaimed, who was also shaking. The tremors that erupted through his body made him look like he had Parkinson's. "Maybe you did it! And maybe you're accusing Jimmy because you wanted to blame the least likely person, and make everything seem out of whack!" The brunettes locked eyes, much like those scenes from Kill Bill, where the suspenseful music played and the camera angle changed from person to person. Only here, there was no music.

"That's exactly what the real criminal would do. Blame the person who's blaming the cripple who obviously didn't do it. Stan, you sick bastard. Why would you kill all these people?" Bradley inquired. All of this sounded like pure bull shit to Kenny especially when the Goths decided to pipe up.

"We have been conversing while you stupid conformists were blaming and accusing each other. Our thoughts are simply: Tweek did it." Dylan announced in a monotone, flipping his red bangs out of his face. It made no difference, though, because they simply fell back into their original place.

"ACK- WHAT?" Tweek squealed. "ME? I almost got- NGH- killed! GAH!" Craig protectively wrapped his arms around the twitching blond.

"And that is why we believe it to be true. Only the real killer would try to kill himself so that nobody would suspect it was him! And you'd be dead, so if anyone ever did figure out it was you, there would be no sentence to pay," Louis retorted, rolling his eyes as if it were obvious. Tweek was speechless. He should never have gone to this stupid party.

~POV- TWEEK~

When Craig had invited me, the idea of a Halloween party seemed innocent enough. When I had doubts, everybody assured me that it'd be fun. Oh yeah, fun! IF you consider being cursed by an evil demonic lord and having your friends brutally killed one by one right in front of you "fun". Almost TOO fun.

~NO POV~

That's when Craig tackled Louis.

"GAH!" Tweek jumped. Exclaiming noises like: Ngh, Ack, and GAH, was just something that came naturally to him. It was his reaction to nearly everything.

"DO. NOT. BLAME. ANY. OF THIS. SHIT. ON. TWEEK!" Craig had snapped. He'd been containing this explosion of emotion since Bebe's death. "YOU ASS HOLE! I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE! WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU BLAME THIS ON TWEEK?" each time he spoke, he threw a good punch into Louis's face. The Goth was already bleeding and begging for Craig to stop. Even though he didn't look it, a certain Mr. Tucker was a very good fighter. Stan just sighed, looked away, and started mumbling. Tweek couldn't handle this. The blond just fell over and started crying. While Craig continued to bash Louis in the face, Clyde and Bradley treated Tweek and the only Goths left started talking again.

Suddenly, a voice that hadn't been heard in a few minutes rose above all of the arguing ones.
"EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Kenny shrieked. His eyes were wide and frantic, and he really did look like he was mentally insane.

"Whoa, Ken," Stan whispered. Craig actually paused the fluent movement of his fists to listen to Kenny.

"JIMMY DIDN'T DO THIS, CLYDE DIDN'T DO THIS, STAN DIDN'T DO THIS, AND I'M PRETTY FUCKING SURE THAT TWEEK DIDN'T, EITHER!" the blond's voice was starting to become hoarse. "IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER WHO'S DOING IT! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE. And I doubt that I'm going to come back this time... I'm going to die for good, you guys. I can just tell."

"Kenny, GAH, what the hell are saying? Of course you'll die for good! NGH- once someone's dead, they stay- ACK! Dead," Tweek was staring with pure pity at Kenny. He was definitely taking this harder than everybody else.

"Seriously, Kenny. I don't understand," Craig added, getting off of Louis, who remained on the floor.

"Of course you don't," Kenny muttered, shaking his head. "Fuck it. I'm not dying. I don't want to die for good. I'm going to-"

And suddenly the lights were out. This time, instead of one, shrill scream, there were multiple dull yelps. When the teens could see again, they wished they couldn't. The sight they saw made Kenny scream like a little girl. The Goths had been literally turned into a liquid, and were seeping into everybody's shoes. By now, the murder victims' bodies had been mixed together, all barely recognizable anymore. "I WANT OUT!" Bradley shouted, hiding behind Jimmy.

"We all want out," Stan sighed. "I guess this means that one of the people in this room is the killer. That means either: Jimmy, Bradley, Clyde, Kenny, Craig Tweek, or... me."

"Um, Stan?" Clyde said.

"What, ass hole?" the raven-haired teen asked, annoyed.

"Where is Craig? And Tweek. And Kenny?"

"Hm? Oh my god. Tweek...? Craig? KENNY?"

"Uh oh." Bradley whispered.

"Oh s-s-s-s-s-shit," Jimmy muttered.

Meanwhile...

"Kyle?"

"What Butters?"

"I'm scared,"

"Yeah, I know. You've said that five times,"

Also...

"Craig,- NGH- I don't w-wanna be here!"

"I know, Tweek. I Know."

"How can I be safe when everybody is getting- GAH! Killed? I feel bad for leaving them,"

"You don't have to feel bad."

"ACK! But I do."

"Then we'll save them."

"NGH-How?"

"That, I don't know. But I do know something that can pass the time while we think of something."

"GAH! What?"

"Just shut up and kiss me,"

"ACK! Ohh."

AND THEN...

"AHHHH! DIE BASTARD, DIE!"

"Butters?"

"Kenny?"
"Kyle?"

"Gee-whiz, KENNY...?"

"Why the fuck are you hiding in a closet?"

"Long story."

"Make it short."

"We're pansies."

"So am I, now scootch over and gimme' some room."

A/N:

Sorry for the major dialogue at the end. I hope the chapter didn't suck. It did. Review anywayz?

~Heron