SMILE LIKE YOU MEAN IT
A/N: This takes place after Stan takes that sip of whiskey as the episode Ass Burgers ended. So expect more crazy antics from him as he searches for the right way to deal with the shit in life, even if these things are controversial in their own way. Enjoy!
The sound of an alarm going off at 8:30 in the morning woke Stan up from his Sunday morning slumber. At that second the last part of a song was heard. Three young guys finished out with the usual 'ooohhh yeah' before the voice of the DJ was heard.
"That was Forever Tomorrow's new single 'Living in Tomorrow'! Here's some info you kids out there might like to know: Forever Tomorrow started out as a trio from Boulder Colorado! Now look where they are! Stay by for another traffic report. My name is DJ Hailey and you're listening to South Park's number one youth station- 100.7, Rockin' Radio!"
Stan stayed in bed for another minute before turning the radio off. At that moment the door opened and Randy stepped in, handing him the phone.
"Phone's for you son," he said. "And hurry up, breakfast has been on."
Stan rubbed tired eyes. "Hullo?"
"Dude! Want to go ice-skating today?" Kyle asked.
Stan blinked to think for a moment. "Uuhh, sure."
"Great, meet us at Stark's Pond in an hour."
Stan looked at the phone as he listened to the dial tone. He gave a great yawn and rubbed his eyes; he had been waking up each morning feeling tired, not refreshed. He wished it would go away soon. He then sniffed the air. It smelled of something cinnamon. His mom most likely made cinnamon rolls for breakfast, something she did a lot of Sundays. And a rich gooey roll covered in icing with a tall glass of cold milk sounded divine. Well, sounded anyway, he didn't know if it would taste that way. Biting his lip he got out of bed and headed over to his dresser and pulled out his shorts and pants drawer. He fumbled around and took out a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey, contemplating it for a moment. He didn't want to chance the breakfast tasking like shit so he uncapped it and took a swig, knowing it would subside all things shitty for now. Shuddering at the taste he hid it again and went back downstairs. Thankfully his mom's cinnamon rolls tasted as delicious as ever although it was weird to see his dad sitting there eating one as well. He still did not like the idea of his parents back together; it had him wondering each and every day why they wanted to patch things up a week ago.
"It's best for you kids," Sharon would say. Stan would argue he was just getting used to the idea of them divorced and didn't mind it anymore. But it didn't seem to matter. He wondered if his parents understood, they just didn't want to go through anymore mess and stress with moving and everything again, especially with Christmas just weeks away. Why was life never simple?
Stan went back to his room to get ready for the day. Ice-skating sounded fun but he didn't know if it actually would be. He would hate to lose interest in the middle of it, especially since after, the guys would want to stop by the corner bakery and pick up something sweet and some hot chocolate or apple cider. It was always that way after a day of fun in the snow. And Stan wanted to be a part of it; he was never one to turn down hot chocolate. So after Stan got dressed and packed a duffle bag with his ice skates, extra change of clothes, and inhaler, he took out his bottle of whiskey again. He didn't want to be without it in case things began to turn to shit. That's when he went to his closet and began digging through his pile of junk until he found what he was looking for- a plastic bottle he had gotten as a souvenir at the Denver Zoo. He poured a reasonable amount of his alcohol into it and capped it. No one would suspect anything weird about it; it was an innocent cup and you couldn't tell what color the liquid inside was; people would think he was drinking water or something, easy. He checked his watch- he was already running behind. Telling his mom where he was going quickly, he rushed out and hurried to Stark's Pond.
While the other guys put their things on Stan took a quick swig from his bottle before taking off his shoes and putting on his skates. He glided onto the ice- at least he tried. His legs slipped and he fell. He tried a second time before finally getting balance on the third.
"It's so cool we had that snowstorm last night," Kyle announced as he did a figure eight.
"This-is-so-gay," Cartman said as his legs buckled. He had never been able to skate well.
"Damnit!" Stan cried as he fell again.
"Are you okay Stan?" Butters stopped in front of him.
"I'm- fine," Stan frowned as his mind went into overdrive as to how to get up from his bum. Carefully he got onto his hands and knees and tried that way but as soon as he placed his left foot on the ice it slipped and he fell. Okay, another way. He placed one foot on the ice and pushed himself up from it- it worked! Smiling in relief, a little too much actually, he began skating again. Minutes into it he fell as he tried stopping himself.
"Dude, what's wrong?" Kyle asked. "You're falling all over the place."
"Don't worry. I'm cool. Really cool. Just a sec- I needa drink…" Stan struggled over to his duffle bag and took another sip from his bottle. Trying to regain himself again, he went back to the ice. And on and on it went; Stan could hardly balance at all and kept slipping on the ice, finally breaking out into hysterics after landing painfully on his bottom.
"Wow, that was a pretty nasty fall you just took Stan," Butters noted as he and Kyle went over.
"Oww… my ass," Stan laughed, hands over his tailbone.
Kyle raised a brow. "You haven't been drinking again have you Stan?"
"What?" Stan gasped. "No!"
"Because I told you three times already I'm not going to have you do anything with us if that's the way you want to hide your pain. It's really stupid."
"I haven't been drinking Kyle! Damn! I've- I've just been… oh look! A squirrel!" Stan suddenly pointed across him. "He's on the bench! Wait- I don't want him going inna- in my bag!" Stan got on unsteady feet and made his way over. "The squirrel's gonna want to steal my stuff!"
Kyle sighed and rolled his eyes, skating towards the edge of the pond where Stan was trying to shoo away a rodent.
"Just leave the stupid squirrel Stan. We need to talk."
"The squirrel's trying to take my stuff! He's gonna take my inhaler!" Stan cried. The squirrel fled the duffle bag and went up a tree.
"Yes Stan, a squirrel wants your inhaler. Dude, what the fuck are you thinking?" he demanded.
Stan turned over, eyes squinted. "I- I… what? What the fuck are you talking about dude?"
"What am I talking about? You're the one who's spaced out and thinks a squirrel is trying to rob you!" Kyle shouted.
Stan just stared at him with drunk eyes.
"I cannot believe you Stan! Showing up drunk! Is that what you've been hiding in your bag?"
"It's my bag! You can't have anything in-innit," Stan held his bag to him as if Kyle was going to make a grab for it.
Kyle sighed. "Stan, I want you to go back home. You aren't safe like this and you're only going to get worse if you hang around us the rest of the day. Just- just go home."
But Stan was having none of this. He had his friends back finally and he wasn't going to let that go without a fight!
"Dude, just let me stick around, please. I'm sorry I'm a mess. Wanna… I wanna go and um, please just let me wanna get some cookies please. And hot chocolate. Oh my god please," Stan pleaded.
Kyle glared, crossing his arms. Stan was hanging over the side of the bench now; his body did not want to hold him up on ice skates anymore. He knew he wanted to be normal and happy around them again and he knew he was still having difficulties living back at his old house with his parents together again. He needed some fresh air. Kyle dropped his arms.
"Okay fine, you can stay."
"Aww, you're the best buddy!"
"But I'm going to be looking out for you all day. Make sure you don't run into the streets or something because you saw a pretty penny in the road."
Stan smiled and patted his friend's chest. "You and be… best buds bude."
Stan sat on the bench for another half hour while the boys wrapped up skating. He was definitely unable to do much of that now. After, the boys made the walk to Annie's Bread N' More to warm up. Kyle would occasionally have to pull Stan over when he got too wobbly on his feet.
"I'be always liked that flashing… flashing red guy on the 'don't walk' sign. He's uber cool," Stan commented.
"Man, you're fucking retarded," Cartman commented.
Before they walked into the bakery Kyle warned Stan he'd better behave and sit quietly the whole time.
"Yes Mom." Stan rolled his eyes before chuckling. "You- you're really pretending to be my mom today, aren't you Kyle?"
Kyle sighed as he pushed Stan into the shop.
"Aren't you?" Stan said angrily.
"Just tell me what you want and then sit down," Kyle bit at him.
Butters sat with Stan while the other boys ordered. He made sure he stayed put otherwise Kyle would become angry.
"Hopefully this calms you down," Kyle placed a steaming cup in front of his friend and a muffin.
"Hot chocolate!" Stan cried happily but burnt his tongue as he took a sip. It was too hot. He moaned. "I needa 'nother drink"- he tried reaching behind him where his duffle bag sat but Cartman stopped him.
"Cut it out dude. I'm finally allowed back in here since I stole those left-over muffins a month ago and I am not going to have you have me kicked out again!"
It was a rather interesting time spent in the bakery. Stan kept rocking back and forth like a baby who was trying to hold his head up for the first time and Butters had to help him drink his hot chocolate in case his unsteady body caused him to burn himself with the hot liquid. Stan took a bite of his banana nut muffin and tears welled in his eyes.
"Oh my god, I love muffins so much…"
Cartman chuckled. "You're a fucking mess dude."
Stan squinted one eye at the large boy. "You're a fat piece of fuck Cartman. Ugghh, seriously… fucking fat." He wrapped an arm around his head and sat it on the table.
It was rather difficult for Kyle to not kick Stan out at that moment for he was getting a few looks from people. But he had to keep reminding himself Stan needed him right now, he was trying to better himself to get things back to normal again, he was just choosing a very stupid way of dealing with it. With time Kyle was sure Stan would be okay. Plus he was afraid Stan's mom might find out he'd be drinking and he'd be in real shit then. So he had no other option but to have the drunk boy stick around all day until the effects of the beer or wine or whatever it was he was drinking wore off.
After the bakery the boys hung around the park which turned out to be a bad idea; Stan wanted to do everything on the playground but no way was Kyle going to allow it in case he really hurt himself.
"Nooo! I wanna go down the slide!" Stan cried as Kyle kept a firm grip on his jacket, preventing him from climbing up.
"Stan, you can really hurt yourself though," Butters said and he helped Kyle force Stan off the steps.
"Just let me go down the fucking slide!" Stan slurred.
"Dude, you guys, drunk Stan is awesome! Let's keep him like this," Cartman smiled.
Stan chuckled.
"This is the last time we're keeping him like this," Kyle glared.
Stan giggled before his stomach churned and he threw-up.
"That does it, we're taking you home now," Kyle said firmly and got him to his feet.
"Why? I throw-up all da time…" Stan moaned.
The boys walked down the sidewalks over to Bonanza Street but only at the street sign did Stan move away from the support of Kyle.
"I can walk… rest of thaway."
"Are you sure Stan? What are you going to do if your mom finds you like this?" Kyle asked.
"Dude, she's like… not home," Stan passed off, eyes loopy.
"You told me she was going to be finishing unpacking all weekend," Kyle pointed out.
Stan took a moment for this to process in his foggy brain. "What?"
Kyle just rolled his eyes. "Just- good luck dude. And if you remember or not, I hope you know I'm not going to see you if you're like this next time. We really need to talk tomorrow Stan."
Stan saw his friends turn the corner out of sight. Meanwhile he stood and looked up at the green signpost that had Bonanza Street pointing straight ahead and Trapley Way pointing the other direction. He didn't walk to his house right away. Instead he dug into his duffle bag and drank down the rest of his whiskey. Funny, his friends didn't even have him toss it earlier. It didn't take long for the remaining alcohol to take effect. Smiling widely through tired eyes Stan walked down the street until he reached his house.
Stan opened the door and dropped his bag. "Honey, I'm home!" he called and chuckled.
Sharon peered over a pile of books she was sorting through. She dropped her reading glasses. "Stan, there you are. Just in time, I was going to start dinner soon. How was ice-skating?"
Stan was leaning towards the left, body unsteady, mouth slightly open.
Sharon was smiling as she walked his way. "Stan, did you hear me?"
"Mom!" Stan suddenly cried and hugged her.
"Okay, thanks," Sharon looked down at him funny.
"D'you- d'you know why you're so cool Mom? It's because you are my mom. My mom," he said pointing at her stomach and looking at it.
"Stanley, what on earth on you talking about?"
Stan looked up, his left eye going in and out, trying to focus on his mother's face.
"Bom, d'you wanna know a secret? Oh my god, I know it now! I know why squirrels do what dey do," Stan held his arms up as if he was about to reveal the cure for cancer. "Squirrels… they live inda trees and they steal stuff. They just go and STEAL IT ALL!"
Sharon stepped back to take a look at her son. He could not stay on both feet for very long, he kept shifting his weight from one side to another. His eyes were half-way open and there looked to be vomit remains on his jacket.
"Stanley, what on earth happened to you?" she demanded.
Stan took his time to answer. He glared. "What? I'm just trying to live my life Mom and now you're accusing me of it? What the fuck Mom?"
"Stanley Marsh you better tell me why you're tottering like you've been brainwashed this minute!"
"Oh my god Mom! You're stuppose to be by mother and care for me but noooo, you gotta start making ac-accusations and shit. Why can't you find it funny? Man, Cartman was laughing."
Sharon sniffed her son; he smelled of vomit and something else. Something peculiar. She knew she knew the scent too but what was it? It then hit her. She grasped her son's jaw and forced it open. One whiff was all she needed before pushing him back in disgust.
"Have you been drinking?!" she shrieked.
"What? I only had… hot chocolate. It was really good too."
"Stanley Quintin Marsh you answer me this instant! Have you been drinking?"
Stan didn't answer, just look up at her as if her face was blurry and he needed glasses to see. Not wanting to wait for a reply Sharon took hold of his duffle bag and searched through. She found a green plastic bottle he had gotten at the zoo a couple years ago. She uncapped it and sniffed. She saw some brown residue at the bottom. She tipped it until it hit her pinky finger where she tasted it. And then she had her answer.
For the next twenty minutes the only sound in the Marsh home were that of Sharon Marsh's screaming. It dominated over the Coldplay CD she had been listening to when her son had staggered in. Stan had taken a seat at the dining room table, brows furrowed in a frown, wincing at the noise from his mother. Finally-
"Argh, Mom, can you turn it down? You're giving me a headache…" he held onto his hat.
"Oh I'm giving you a headache? Care to guess as to why? Why the hell do you have whiskey in your bag? What the hell were you thinking Stanley? What the hell? Stanley- are you even listening to me? Why was that in your bag? You tell me right now mister or else! What the hell were you thinking? You're a child Stanley! You barely just turned ten! You are a CHILD Stanley!" Sharon's voice never was so shrill. She could dominate Mrs. Broflovski if she really wanted.
"I just needa way to be happy," Stan tried telling her.
"What on earth went through your mind Stanley? Did you really think I wouldn't find out? How long have you been hiding it? This is the WORST thing you've ever done Stanley! I used to think nothing was worse than you trying a cigarette but now look! Do you find enjoyment out of getting in trouble? I never had a problem like this with your sister! Why must you always go against every little rule I set? What is wrong with you?"
"Mom, it's not that bad"-
"You are DRUNK Stanley!" her voice boomed. "How dare you! How dare you!"
Sharon took a moment to catch her breath. She looked at her son who sat there, trying to keep his eyes open. She firmly took hold of his arm.
"Go to your room right now mister. I cannot even look at you right now. Go and don't you even dare think you're coming back down without my permission."
She guided him up the stairs and only when she heard his bedroom door close did she weakly fall into the chair her son had recently occupied seconds ago. Her ten-year-old child had just walked into the door drunk off of whiskey. She didn't know if she should even believe it but his stench lingered in the air. The worst thing… this had to be the worst thing he had ever done. Stan had been disobeying her since he could walk. It used to be such mundane things like eating a cookie before dinner even though she said no and slipping the F word here and there but this… it was as if the older he got the worse he became. Who was to blame? Was she a bad parent? How could this have happened right under her nose? Was he being pressured by older kids or even his friends? Even his own father? At that moment Sharon wanted nothing more than to go to her son and smack him and the thought made her sick. She had never hit her kids, ever. She didn't believe in that form of punishment. But the fact that Stan had done something that was making her consider it…
Minutes later Randy walked into the house with Shelley.
"They were all out of roasted garlic so I got sweet tomato," Randy said, pulling out a jar of marinara sauce.
Sharon's eyes were wide and she was clutching her arms.
"Sharon? What's wrong?" the man asked.
It took a while for Sharon to be able to utter the words 'Stan came home drunk'. Randy thought she was joking at first but Sharon told him how Stan was behaving when he arrived home and how he smelled and finally the biggest clue- his green water bottle.
"Why the hell would the kid be drunk? He's far too young!"
"You didn't pressure him do you?" Sharon snapped.
"What? Just because my dad forced me to taste beer when I was a kid doesn't mean I did that to ours!"
"You're always putting pressure on him to 'man up'! Why do you men do that to your sons?"
"What the hell Sharon? Sure there are a few things but I never forced him to drink! One of the things I agreed with you before we moved back here was I was going to allow Stan to be a sensitive animal-loving kid if that's what he wants. I didn't do anything," Randy said in defense.
Ten minutes of arguing about the matter at hand both parents decided to go upstairs and open their son's door. Stan was currently in bed; face in his pillow and asleep. A fresh pile of puke sat on the floor and his room a mess.
"He's not going to listen to us now, look at him," Randy pointed out.
Knowing he had a point Sharon got out the cleaning supplies and cleaned up the vomit, not wanting it to stain the carpet. Stan didn't flinch once. Shaking her head disapprovingly, she stepped out. Seven in the morning Stan's alarm rang and he stirred in bed as Big Hairy and Mike began their usual morning shenanigans.
"Ugghh…" he moaned as he lifted a very heavy head. "Aww shit…" Stan noticed his clothes hung on him loosely and his hat halfway off and he was wearing only one sock. He lay in bed for a minute trying to remember the events from the day before. He drew a blank. Only then did he realize it was a Monday and time to get ready for school. But his mother was one step ahead.
"Have a nice sleep son?" she asked, already standing over him, arms crossed and glaring.
"Ugghh, I have a huge headache," Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Do you have any idea what happened last night Stan?"
Stan thought hard. "I 'member… uuhh, snow?"
"You came home drunk Stanley!"
"Sharon, let him breathe," Randy came up before turning to his son. "We have a lot we need to talk about today son!"
What were his parents on about? Only then did the realization hit and his eyes went wide with fright.
"Hmm, yes, remembering now?" Sharon raised a brow.
"I- I- I gotta go to school. I need something for my head first, it's killing me."
"Fortunately for you, you are not going to school today," Sharon announced. "All three of us are staying home today."
"No Mom, I gotta go. Mr. Garrison said- um, big social studies test today"- Stan fumbled.
"You can miss it. First things first, you are to take a shower right now and clean up all that filth all over you. Then you are to brush your teeth and floss and use mouthwash enough until I can no longer smell the stink of that crap on your breath. Then you are going to meet your father and I in the kitchen. I'm going to wash your bedding; I can smell it from here. Go- now!" Sharon pointed out the door.
Stan sniffed; he didn't smell that bad did he? Gulping, he got to his feet shakily, gathered clothes, and hurried to clean himself top to bottom, in and out. As soon as he scampered into the kitchen Sharon forced his mouth open to make sure he smelled as minty fresh as can be. Satisfied she placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of him.
"But- but I don't like oatmeal Mom…"
"After what you did last night you don't deserve to have choices!"
"But… but it'll taste funny since I just brushed my teeth. Use-usually I do it after and I"-
With one menacingly glare Stan took hold of his spoon and began to eat although he hardly could. His head still hurt and his stomach bubbled too much with the thought of how today was going to go. His parents knew he was drinking. Apparently he came home drunk last night! Was he really drunk though? Did it even matter? What were they going to do about it? Yell? Ground him for a month? And from what? Every time he was grounded he could never predict what privileges were going to be taken away that time. He could only down half his oatmeal before Randy passed along two Junior Strength Motrin tablets and a glass of water to his son. Stan swallowed them before slowly looking up at his parents.
"I'm only giving you one shot to explain to me what happened at six in the evening yesterday Stanley," Sharon said clearly.
Stan chewed his lip and played with a loose string on his jacket sleeve. "I uh, I don't really remember much…" That was no good. "Um, I remember I was hanging with my friends. We went sledding or something. No it was ice-skating. Yeah, 'cause I brought my duffle bag. Um… I don't really know what happened. I don't remember walking home um, you know…"
"Why were you drunk?" Sharon asked.
Stan twirled the string around his fingers. "I- I was drinking."
"Why?" Randy demanded.
"Um… it's kinda complicated."
"You tell us now before we extend your grounding time more," Randy said.
Stan looked at his hands instead of the ugly angry faces of his parents. "It- it's there to help me. So I can forget stuff, my troubles. So the world doesn't seem shitty."
"Only adults drink! Why do you think I drink? Can you not think of any other way to deal with yourself?" Randy asked.
"I- I can't help it!" Stan squeaked. "I was sort of forced. But then I began to like it. Well not like it, it tastes horrible but it clears my head and makes me like life, at least for a little while!"
"How long have you been doing it?" Sharon asked.
"Um… well, since- since I went to my first therapy session at the Asperger's place." Stan was forced to tell his parents what exactly went on behind closed doors there. They didn't buy it at first but eventually calmed down enough to listen.
"How dare they force my child to drink!" Sharon cried.
"It doesn't matter Mom, it's done," Stan said hesitantly.
Randy didn't look convinced. "The problem at hand isn't this though; you voluntarily drank after your sessions there!"
"You honestly couldn't have come up with a better way Stanley?" Sharon snapped.
"No. I- I was too sad to do anything. The whiskey was the first thing that really helped. I didn't want to do it, I still don't. But it helps. You of all people should know Dad…"
Randy rubbed his chin. "Well I prefer beer over anything else but"-
"RANDY!" Sharon yelled.
It was a very tense morning; there were so many things Sharon wanted to ask Stan and yell at him for but words kept getting jumbled with other thoughts. She asked if his friends knew and he said yes, if they drank, he said no. And most importantly…
"How long were you expecting this to last?" Sharon expressed. "Did you really think you weren't going to be caught?"
Stan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Only until I didn't have to depend on it to like life again. I knew you'd probably find out sooner or later. I just… kinda wish you hadn't."
"I am your mother Stanley. Mark my words, if there is something you are hiding I will figure it out. I know everything there is to know about you. It's my right as your mother. So if you want to confess anything else to me before I find out down the road I suggest you do so now."
Stan gulped, that look on her face told him she wasn't kidding. At that moment there were many things he wanted to confess to her. I was the one who broke that glass weeks ago. I was the one who scratched your Mumford and Sons CD. I've been sneaking in candy into my room for years. I forged your name on a paper last year and I don't think Mr. Garrison ever found out. Looking at his lap Stan shook his head.
"Nothing Mom…"
Sharon was looking at her son with a raised brow. All too soon she was back at yelling at Stan for what he did. Stan's head was hurting and he was praying to any god out there the pills would kick in soon. Randy stepped in now and again with words of his own but no one was more pissed than Sharon. Stan was half-expecting his dad to tell his mom she was overreacting but he seemed to be just as angry with him as his mother. Stan tried defending himself a few times.
"We- we all make mistakes don't we? I'm sure you both drank when you were underage before."
"Drinking at age ten is more than 'just a mistake' mister! And I was in fact sixteen when I tried my first sip of- it doesn't matter! This isn't about me!" Sharon spoke.
"Your mother's right son- you are way too young to do something so stupid. What were you thinking? I can't believe you!"
It had been almost two hours of yelling, talking, Stan fumbling for excuses and reasons, and finally long stretches of silence where no one knew quite the right thing to say. Finally Sharon got to her feet.
"You are to show me where you keep your whiskey right this minute Stan."
"What- what's my punishment?" Stan said in a small voice.
Sharon glanced at Randy. "Your father and I still have to finalize it. Now show me your hiding spot."
Stan pulled out his dresser drawer and regretfully handed over the bottle of whiskey. Sharon inspected it; just a tiny bit left remained. She asked him if he was hiding anything else but he told her that was his only bottle. This was the first real thing Sharon believed. She then ordered Stan to stay in his room until his punishment was drawn out. Around a half-hour later he was called downstairs. He took a seat on the couch as if his body was aching and looked up at his parents.
"Stanley, for your absolutely disgusting behavior you are going to be grounded from the TV and video games," Sharon began.
Figured. "How long?" Stan dreaded.
Sharon uncrossed her arms and responded simply, "Two months."
"WHAT?"
"And you have a new curfew," Randy continued. "You're to be home by 7 PM each night, even on weekends unless otherwise noticed. Again, two months."
"WHAT?"
"And we will know if you use the television or other electronics at your friends'. I will inform the other mothers of your punishment and will have them report to me if you break any rules," Sharon said.
"That's not fair! What the fuck?" Stan cried.
"And you can't be online for more than one hour each day," Randy concluded.
"What?" tears burned Stan's eyes. He easily spent three hours or more on the computer each day. Didn't his parents understand electronics were so important and vital to a kid's life?
"Everything else still stands- for now."
Stan let out a piteous moan as he covered his face with his hands. This was the worst and longest grounding time ever.
"Can't I just spend the rest of the day in time-out or something?" he tried bargaining.
"The only way you'll really understand just how displeased with you we are is for you to have your favorite privileges taken away," Randy explained.
"You didn't take dessert away…"
"Yet. But if you do something so slightly that breaks any rule we already have in place, no desserts," Sharon said, still in a calm manner.
"But I really know how upset you two are," Stan tried. "I'm sorry. Really really sorry."
"Just so you know Stan, you cannot say nor do anything to change our minds. This is the worst thing you've ever done so we are not going to go lightly on you one second."
The thought of no TV, video games, and limited computer time was already driving Stan mad.
"I- I love you Mom." He gazed his watery eyes at her hoping it would soften her but she did not budge.
"I'm going to take your TV out of your room now and set your computer to one hour usage," Randy got to his feet and went upstairs.
Stan could not bear to see this happen so he put his face into the couch and yelled out his frustrations. He punched at the throw pillows and hit them aggressively over and over again onto the arm rests and floor. Sharon had come over and pulled him roughly off for she did not want her pillows to be ruined.
"But I'm going to be missing so many of my favorite TV shows!" he argued, trying to fight back the tears in his eyes. Sharon set him on a chair and had him face the wall.
"Just sit there- I cannot even look at you right now."
It was almost the worst day of his life. Not as bad as last year when he fell out of bed and hit his head, bit his tongue during breakfast, stubbed his toe right after, did a horrible job on a science quiz at school, puked twice-landing himself in the nurse's office, got locked out of the house by Shelley later on while getting rained on, then finally having little hot water left to take a relaxing bath in to wind down that night. No, today wasn't quite as bad as that but Stan was certain it wouldn't take long for such a day to arrive once again.
And so the worst two months of Stan's life began. He could hardly face his friends the next day at the school bus. Of course that mattered little and as soon as Kyle took his seat next to his friend he asked what happened.
"I don't wanna talk about it now you guys," Stan moaned, rubbing his eyes.
"Dude, you weren't in school yesterday. Why?"
"I don't wanna talk about it!"
"Give us a hint," Cartman said.
Stan was glaring behind him. "Let's just say the next two months will be the worst time of my life okay?"
By lunch his friends found out everything. And during that lunch did Stan realize just how upset his mother was with him; she had packed the worst lunch ever. A nasty egg sandwich, carrot sticks with ranch dressing, a thing of sugar-free jello, a granola bar, and in his water bottle…water. He noticed his mom's daily 'I love you' note on a napkin was missing as well. No words of encouragement for him today. Stan sighed.
"Damn dude, she must be really pissed," Cartman noted.
Stan unwrapped his sandwich. "I know she's mad but I didn't think it would be that bad. I think I've done worse but she said this is the worst thing I've done. How can it be the worst? Is being part of the reason the school burned down from smoking not worse? Or sneaking off to Cartman's grandma's during Christmas? She was super pissed off then."
"How 'bout when you wrote 'My mom sucks' in markers in giant letters in your parents' bedroom years ago?" Kyle suggested.
"Exactly!" Stan cried. "I was just a little drunk. My mom likes to drink too, not like Dad but she still likes a good glass of wine or some fancy cocktail or whatever so why is this any different?"
"Maybe it's because you're underage?" Butters suggested.
Stan glared. "Shut-up Butters."
Those first two weeks were just as bad as Stan feared. He was constantly surrounded by boredom and his friends' company hardly made things better. He tried sneaking in some TV time at Kyle's but Sheila found out and told Sharon about it. Stan had to cram all his electronic activity into one hour each day online which was hardly enough time. He got so caught up one day watching You Tube videos he threw a fit when his time had run out.
"That's not fair! I was watching videos the whole time! I didn't even check my e-mail or ESPN yet!"
Worse yet Sharon had not smiled at her son for six whole days now. Stan constantly tried getting her on his good side but failed each time. The only time she talked to him was when she had to tell him to do or not do something. She had even stopped asking him how school was during dinner. Stan tried not to look too bothered by this but he was starting to wonder if his mom was going to forgive and forget anytime soon. Above it all, he had nothing to turn to during the bad times. He had his alcohol days ago and it was a bitter but perfect thing to numb his mind in the pain of life. Now it was gone and he was almost going crazy having nothing else to turn to.
Stan's bad luck did not let up; that Wednesday he had a dentist appointment. He was pissed; he had to get a filling for the first time in one of his permanent teeth. He got four previous fillings in the past in baby teeth but knowing he already had a hole in one of the teeth he was going to have until he was an old man… pissed him off. He hated genetics so much. Little did he know his first attempt at getting that need to relax in life would come from the appointment.
It was a rather uncomfortable wait in the waiting room of South Park Children's Dentistry that afternoon. Stan fidgeted in the seat he was in, fingers so eager to play with the Wii U game system that was set up feet away but he knew his mom would not allow him to play a game for even five minutes. He didn't want to play with any of the toys set out around and all the magazines were old. His mother always allowed him to play his 3DS or her iphone during waits in doctor/dentist offices but not today. He let out a groan as he sank into the chair.
"Stanley, stop moving around and sit up," Sharon snapped over her magazine.
"I'm bored," he complained.
"Then read. And be quiet."
Stan picked up a magazine about animals in the dessert. The clock ahead of them ticked its annoying rhythm as he waited and the sounds of the receptionist on the phone were unusually loud and clear. Stan frowned as he flipped through the pages. He then gasped and tugged on his mother's sleeve.
"Mom! Hey look! There's an article here about meerkats! Isn't that cool? I never seen stuff about meerkats in magazines. I love them, they're so cute and little and- well, don't- don't you…?" Stan trailed, realizing Sharon did not look the least bit interested. His heart sank. A minute later the door ahead opened and hygienist Allison stepped out.
"Stanley? We're ready for you now."
Stan looked to his mother before getting to his feet and walking to the young woman.
"Mrs. Marsh? Do you… want to come in the back with your son? Most parents like to be there as their child is put under nitrous oxide. It is a rather amusing experience," Allison smiled.
Last appointment when Stan learned he would need the filling he was given the option of trying out nitrous oxide, otherwise known as laughing gas, to calm him down and ease any anxiety he may have during the procedure. At that point Sharon thought it would be a humorous thing for her to witness and even said she would record the experience for she was sure it would be a funny video to share with the family. Stan was intrigued with the thought that he'd be so immersed in giggles he'd care less about his dental work and jumped on the idea like his mom. Now however Sharon seemed to be as against being in the same room as her son as possible.
Sharon sighed as she lowered her magazine. "I'm sorry Allison but I think it's best I stay out here."
Stan frowned. "But Mom, if you aren't there to record it, it won't be any fun."
Sharon raised a brow. "I think we both know I'm not in the mood right now Stanley."
"But who knows when the next time I'm going to be under laughing gas again. Unless I go and break my leg two months from now and you wanna record it then…"
Sharon did not look amused.
"Please Mom? We even said weeks ago it would be kinda funny to record me under laughing gas each time I'm under it. See how different each experience is. Heh, that would be funny huh?"
Sharon was looking at him, thinking, but annoyed all the same.
"Well, if you don't want to that's fine. Dr. Steels is waiting sweetie," Allison placed a hand on Stan's head but he shook it off.
"Wait"- he did not want his mom upset with him now. This was supposed to be the best dental appointment yet and now she was making him dread it. He placed his hands together and frowned in the way only a child could. "Please Mom?" he said simply.
Sharon looked into his sad blue eyes and sighed; it was the holidays now and she did hate being mad at her kids then. Just this once she'd amuse him and herself…
"Fine Stanley."
He smiled and they walked into the awaiting room.
"I hope you don't think anything changes from what you did two weeks ago," she reminded him.
"I know. But just this once, can't things be back to how they were?"
Sharon sighed and spoke so only he could hear, "It's the holidays Stan, I don't want to be angry with anyone this month. Your punishment is still on but I don't want to hate my own son right now. I'll try to enjoy things, for the next few weeks at least."
And this was enough for Stan.
Dr. Steels appeared and began to explain how the laughing gas worked and smiled at the boy sitting in the orange dentist chair.
"Okay, you ready for this Stan?"
"Yeah. Although… I'm not gonna, you know, do something weird am I? Like, think I'm flying or think you're I dunno, George Washington am I?"
Dr. Steels laughed. "Well you might. The effects are different for each person."
"I bet I'm going to think I'm flying. I get weird when I'm under medicine or other stuff."
Sharon pursed her lips as she set her iphone to video mode trying to ignore this statement. Allison placed a bib around Stan's neck, leaned the chair back slightly, and pulled out a gray mask.
"Just breathe through your nose, you'll start to feel a little lightheaded and silly in a couple minutes," the young woman explained.
"Ready sweetie?" Sharon asked her son.
Stan's heart constricted at the first time she had called him 'sweetie' in two weeks.
"Yeah."
A couple minutes? More like barely one. Stan hardly took in five breaths before he began to feel off.
"Oh wow… hehehe, wow, this is weird."
"Feel okay so far son?" Dr. Steels asked.
"Yeah. Yeah this is cool. This is weird."
Hardly two minutes into it he could hear his dentist say something to his mom about waiting ten minutes or so before they began the work. Stan broke out in giggles.
"What's so funny?" Sharon asked.
"Hehe, everything. Wow, this is fucking crazy!"
The adults looked shocked at his cursing, Sharon looked guilty.
"Wow! Man I love this! I- I think I see elephants. What the fuck? Haha, wow, elephants here? Who else sees 'em?" Stan moved his eyes to and fro.
"What are the elephant saying?" Sharon asked, amused, phone recording everything.
Stan frowned, looking confused. "What? I- I- wow! What is that? Hahaha. That's so weird."
"What are you seeing Stan?" Dr. Steels asked, playing along as well.
Stan looked confused again before he broke out in more laughter. "What I being man? Huh? Haha, you're crazy doctor- doctor- uhh…" followed by more laughter.
Even though she was still incredibly upset with her son for what he did two weeks ago, Sharon had to admit she was happy she decided to witness him on laughing gas. It was all rather entertaining and knowing how sad he was feeling last month, it was good to see a big silly smile on his face again, even if special gas was aiding him along. Ten minutes had gone by and Dr. Steels wheeled his chair towards Stan.
"What scent do you want the gloves this time Stan?"
Stan drew in a deep breath from the gas before beaming. "Oh man, ha, I want Cocoa Puffs."
"I'm afraid we don't have that in stock at the moment," Dr. Steels said amused. "Want to go with the usual banana?"
Stan snorted (as much as one could with something over their nose). "'Nana. What a funny word. Bananananana. Hey, want a banananana?"
"I'll take that as a yes." Dr. Steels and Allison put on Stan's preferred scented latex gloves and masks over their faces and wheeled their way towards him. "We're going to start up now son, want to say anything before we begin?" the man asked as he lowered the chair.
"Hi Mom!" Stan happily waved to Sharon. "Merry Christmas!"
Sharon laughed. "Not yet Christmas honey."
Stan just laughed, and as the dentist and hygienist prepped his mouth Stan said, 'what the fuck are you guys all doin'?' through many chuckles.
To say this was Stan's very best dentist appointment was an understatement; he had never had such a wonderful time sitting back in that chair, mouth open wide where people did whatever to it. He became a little confused when he saw Dr. Steels pull out the needle to numb the sight because seconds later it disappeared and he didn't feel it at all. That was odd. But some time later the chair let up and the boy was to wait some minutes until the gas wore off.
"Oh mah god! I soun' fuddy! Hahaha! What um I saying?" he said looking around.
"It… should wear off soon right?" Sharon asked.
"Yes, don't worry; the last of the nitrous oxide is leaving his body. He'll be back to normal in minutes with no lasting effects," Allison explained.
"Mom!" Stan cried. "D'you know whuts cool 'bout you? Your names. You can go by Mom, Mommy, Mother, Mama. And- wait for it- Sharon! Weird, I know!"
"Anytime now, "Allison checked her watch with a slight smile.
Just as Stan was usually the first to feel the effects of medicine or other substances, he was the last to get off them. Nearly ten minutes later did he finally come back down to earth.
"Enjoyed yourself did you?" Sharon crossed her arms.
Stan frowned. "Damn… what the fuck?"
Sharon flashed her phone. "Don't worry; I have it all on tape. We can watch it later if you want. I know Grandma and Grandpa will get a real kick out of it. I'll meet you back in the waiting room okay hon?" She smiled warmly at him and exited the room.
Stan sat in the chair a moment before turning to Allison and saying in a serious manner, "Dude, where can I get this stuff?"
"Excuse me?" she looked taken aback.
"This stuff's great. I wan' more. Where do they sell it?'
"I- I'm afraid I'm not one to divulge such information. It's definitely not up for sale for leisure use if that's what you're thinking silly."
"C'mon, they have to sell it somewhere! Where does Dr. Steels get it?" Stan looked eager.
"I'm not going to tell you that Stan. C'mon, let's get you out of this chair…"
"You don' unnerstan'! I loved it! It's perfect! It's jus' whatta need to deal with life!"
It was almost alarming to see the boy look so desperate and serious over such a thing. She had a feeling now he wasn't joking. But she told him again she was not going to tell him how to purchase laughing gas and forced him out of the seat and back with his mother. It didn't matter what she was saying though, as Stan went back home he could only think of how to purchase laughing gas of his own.
Stan couldn't wait to tell his friends all about the laughing gas first thing the next day, and during first recess was the perfect time to tell all. Thankfully Butters was the one to bring the topic up.
"How was the dentist yesterday Stan?"
"It was wonderful," Stan exasperated. His friends looked at him oddly.
"Um, Stan, are you feeling okay?" Kyle asked.
"Everybody hates the dentist you freak," Cartman spat.
"Oh my god you guys have no idea- get this, I think I found my new way to relieve the bad stuff in life that isn't whiskey."
Smiles now.
"Wow, that's great dude! What is it?" Kyle asked.
Stan held out his hands. "Get this you guys: it's called laughing gas."
"Laughing gas? What's that?" Butters repeated.
Seeing how the four boys looked lost Stan went on to explain. "It's this tasteless gas that makes everything wonderful. They put this gray mask thing over my nose and I breathed it in and in seconds… well I don't really remember much after but my mom recorded it and we watched it after and from the looks of it, I was having the time of my life. I just remember being in a state of utter happiness. Nothing mattered. Everything was silly and fun. Almost like what the whiskey did to me. Almost like what life was like before my tenth birthday. I was back feeling good again. Real good. I was so happy and that gas made me feel that way. It was really really great," Stan trailed.
Kyle looked weary. "What exactly are you saying Stan?"
Stan straightened up. "I'm saying I want to find a way to get some for myself. For personal use."
"Oh no, no no no no no. We are not doing something like that again," Kyle put his hands up as if he were about to stop someone from walking.
"Dude what's the problem? The gas isn't dangerous at all. It's odorless and tasteless and takes minutes to feel the effects and minutes to get off it with no lasting problems after! It'll be perfect!" Stan stressed.
"That's what they also say about carbon monoxide. You will not do something like that again Stan, you hear?"
"Why not? It's harmless Kyle! If it gets me to a happy place until I'm able to get there myself who cares? The only problem is, I don't know how to get some. My dentist's helper lady wouldn't tell me how to get some so we have to team up and find how to score it, okay?" Stan looked at the other boys.
"Stan, what you're saying is that you are willfully going to use substance abuse, again, to try and 'forget the pain.' You're suggesting we help you smuggle in something that's obviously not for home use just so you can get high and walk around laughing and spin around in circles. Do you know how stupid you're sounding right now?" Kyle demanded.
"Why do you always have to put a damper on everything Kyle?" Stan glared.
"Yeah dude, you suck," Cartman butted in. "This laughing gas sounds pretty sweet if you ask me."
"It'll be illegal! Stan, you are ten fucking years old! You're the youngest in our group here yet you keep on trying to act mightier and more mature than you actually are. I told you plenty of times after your birthday- I will not deal with you acting like an idiot like this anymore. I'm willing to help you if you want to help yourself. But I am not going to allow you to use whatever your little hands can get a hold on just so you can numb life for a few hours. That's not how life works so just deal with the pain in a healthy manner or else… I don't think we're ready to be SBF's again."
Stan caught Kyle looking at him in the eye sharply before he left to do his own thing. Stan turned to the others.
"Gee Stan… Kyle's kinda right. I don't want you to hurt yourself by numbing life in unhealthy ways. There- there are better ways to dealin' with stress. I don't wanna see you do something stupid. Sorry Stan." Butters left as well.
Angry as heck Stan took it upon himself to spend his hour of internet time looking up laughing gas. He was disappointed however by what he saw. While he read there was nothing dangerous about it (and he trusted his dentist wouldn't have used it if it were) he could not find anything about buying some for himself. At least, not at a good price. And as he read the information he knew he would not be able to purchase any. It wasn't simply something they shipped in the mail, he would need a credit card which of course he didn't have and even though he had the numbers memorized on two of his mom's cards the very thought of getting her that angry with him again was too scary to think of.
Great, he was back to the beginning again. And as each day passed he began to stress out more and he didn't have his whiskey to calm him. Usually if someone was taken from their dependent for this long they'd accept it and move on. But not him, it was almost agony he had nothing else to help him. Each day he was reminded why he needed it. He still did not like his parents being kind to each other; he wanted them to fight! And the whole world was back to its old self which he hated. He had been screwed over too many times and now was too much. He was ready for change, ready for a new life which included living in a new home with his mom and seeing his dad on weekends. He wanted that. And now it was as if he was the only one who remembered anything from that life.
For extra measure Sharon had placed all the alcohol in the house in one cabinet with a padlock in case her son got any ideas. The only downside was all of Randy's beer which sat freely in the fridge. Luckily Stan had stayed away from it so far stating he was only interested in his whiskey but that night… after dinner while his dad helped his mom put dirty dishes in the dishwasher Stan looked at his dad's beer can, half-full on the table. It still was nice and cold. Maybe just a sip. Stan drew the can to his lips and gulped- before grimacing. So much for that idea…
It was just another lazy Sunday and unfortunately for Stan, it really was a lazy Sunday. His friends planned on playing video games all day long but of course he was not allowed to join. So he sat lounging in the couch, staring at a blank TV screen while his mother wrote Christmas cards. He groaned.
"Moooom… I'm so bored…"
Sharon didn't look up from her supplies. "I'm sorry to hear that Stan."
Another groan. "I can't keep sitting doing nothing. I'm going to flip out."
Sharon rolled her eyes as she set down another finished card and fished out another. "Don't be dramatic Stan. You're taking this 'my life is horrible' thing way out of context."
"It does suck! I finally was okay with you and Dad divorced and now I'm back in our old house as if nothing ever happened! I can't take it; I can't pretend it didn't happen. I don't want things back the way they were. I can't keep dealing with these life changes, I don't know how to deal with the stress at all," Stan complained, hands on his head.
Sharon sighed as she pushed aside her cards. "I don't know what else to tell you Stan. You're too young to be feeling this way. Don't think so much on it. I know you're upset with things right now but the only way to deal with it is with a healthy habit or hobby. Believe me, alcohol is the last way to deal with it," she said grimly. Stan was sure she was not only speaking of him but his father as well.
"What can I do though? I still want my whiskey. It helped."
Sharon raised her brow. "If you want something to distract you from life you could help me with the Christmas cards."
"What would I have to do?" Stan asked, looking defeated already.
"Place stamps on the envelopes and fill out addresses."
Stan looked weary. "You- want me to be around you Mom?"
Sharon's face softened. "You know I do Stanley. Your punishment is still in effect but I don't want anything else to be sour between us. Come on, help me with these cards. There's a lot I need to send out by tomorrow."
As Stan helped his mom with Christmas cards she told him a way she battled stress, write. He found this a very lame way to go.
"I got you that diary for Christmas last year, how many times have you written in it?" she asked.
"It's a journal Mom; calling it a diary makes it sound gay. And I dunno, a handful of times."
"When was the last time?"
"To be honest? Weeks ago, after my birthday…"
Sharon didn't press the subject. She just suggested writing in it more often because it was always nice to reflect over the day if you wrote it down. The idea of writing in a journal every day sounded very lame. With that Sharon told him it was all on him to find a new way to go through life and he had only himself to blame if it didn't work out. That Monday Stan hurried to his friends who stood by the bus stop and went to ask them what they usually did when life threw them a curve ball.
"Why should we help you?" Kyle asked, a little hostel since Stan's latest idea.
"Dude, I'm sorry I tried getting you to help me days ago. I thought buying laughing gas was a great idea but turns out, it's not that easy. And I don't want to risk getting in trouble even more or else my mom's really going to take away all my stuff. I just want new ideas to battle stress you know?" Stan said quickly.
"How can your life be that stressful?" Kyle exasperated.
"It is okay?" Stan bit.
"You have two parents who love you, friends, you're healthy, have hobbies and interests… you're just another middle-class American kid," Kyle pointed out.
"My life keeps getting screwed over and I'm sick of it!" Stan bunched his fists in little balls. "It's only a matter of time before my parents decide to split again and I get depressed about something again. I need a way to deal with things when they do get out of hand. Maybe not at this moment but something to turn to when things go wrong. Obviously I'm not allowed to touch whiskey again until I'm older and going with the flow isn't helpful either. C'mon, we all have ways to deal with the bad stuff in life, why won't you give me any of your own ideas?"
Kenny shrugged as he looked at the others.
Kyle rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you really need to do something during bad times, busy yourself. I like my mind open and active no matter what so I work on something, Sudoku puzzles, extra credit, something with the computer... If I have another project to worry about I don't have to think about the bad things in life. Or, if that doesn't work, read. Reading is another great way to immerse yourself in another state of mind and forget everything you ever knew and leave the world behind."
Cartman laughed. "That is so lame."
Stan blinked. "What does 'immerse' mean?"
Kyle raised a brow. "My point exactly. If you stimulate your mind who knows what you may learn. Words for instance that make you sound smarter. You do well on spelling tests and read really well too dude, why not expand it?"
Stan brushed this off as 'gay'. He only learned things in school, that's what it was there for. Home was not a place to expand his knowledge; it was where he wanted to relax and have fun and not think of historical events or math problems. The others were of no help; Cartman said how he liked to break things when upset or force his mom to buy him something new. Or eat. Butters said he enjoyed singing or dancing when upset which again, Stan knew he wouldn't do. And he decided he didn't want to know what Kenny did during said situations...
Entering into his third week of punishment Stan admitted he was starting to miss his whiskey less and less. What he did miss was the feeling it brought and so far nothing seemed to be working. Which was unfortunate as Christmas was right around the corner and so far Stan had to put up a big act to like things in life again. It wasn't easy as his favorite forms of entertainment had been taken away and once in a while he would get reprimanded by others for not participating in the things that had been taken from him. Anything else was still a form of shit. He wanted a healthy way to deal with life's struggles yet he was still being looked down upon by his family and even Kyle for drinking even though his argument was 'it happened almost a month ago, why does it matter?' Stan was afraid by the end of his punishment he would fall back on his favored alcohol if he didn't find an alternative fast. Luckily that week of Christmas he was given a very nice surprise indeed by his parents.
"I have something that you might like to hear Stan," Sharon began as she dished out homemade pumpkin bread as a yummy festive breakfast treat that first morning into winter break.
Stan looked up from his milk, curious.
"Your father and I have decided to lift your punishment for all of this week," Sharon smiled as she stole a look from Randy.
"What?" Stan gasped.
"That's right son, you can watch TV and play video games and have internet time back all this week," Randy said.
"Wh-why are you guys doing this for me?" Stan had to ask.
"Well it's the holidays, it's just cruel to have you bored out of your mind the week of Christmas," Sharon elaborated as she poured some glaze on her bread. "I only hope you won't ever do something this stupid again so close to the holidays because I really don't like the thought of you in trouble on Christmas or any other special event. But it's for this week only, come next Monday it's back to no electronics again."
Stan got up and gave his parents a quick hug. "Thanks so much you guys. Wow, I can finally catch up on all the TV I missed! And play Dream Concert again! Yes! Yes!" Oh what a wonderful day it was for Stan, the best he had in too long. While his parents were at work Stan lounged around the house all day, not even changing out of his pajamas. He just sat there, eyes glued to the TV screen for six hours straight. Three devoted to TV, the other three to video games. All the while stuffing his hand in the Santa-shaped candy bowl on the table nearby that held dozens of Hershey Kisses.
Only when he was getting into his favorite racing game did Shelley decide to plop on the sofa next to him. She took hold of the remote.
"No! Don't touch anything!" he cried.
Shelley raised a brow, remote pointing to the TV, ready to strike a button.
"Please Shelley, don't touch anything. You'll ruin the game!"
"I want to watch TV now turd."
"That's not fair! I finally get to have it all this week! I'll tell on you if you hog it from me!" Stan cried.
"Mom's still pissed at you for drinking, I doubt she'll have your back," Shelley said fairly.
"She's not pissed now. I'm still grounded for another month but she's being normal," Stan frowned. "And why do you care anyway? Why can't you just watch TV in your own room?"
Shelley was smirking, the real reason she sat next to her brother was on her mind. "I still can't believe you came home drunk. I can't believe you willingly came home drunk to Mom. At the age of barely ten. I can't believe you actually were drunk, that you actually hid it from Mom. You actually turned to booze to cure what ailed you," she finished with a chuckle.
"What? Do you have a better solution?" Stan glared. His eyes then went wide. "Say… Shelley… do you have a better solution?"
"To what turd-breath?"
Stan set his controller aside. "To, well, stress. I'm trying to come up with a 'healthy' way to deal with tough times but I can't think of anything. I can't get high off laughing gas anywhere but at the dentist and I don't like the guys' ideas. They're gay. What do you do to relieve stress?"
Shelley was glaring and making a fist; clearly she was not up for talking with her stupid annoying little brother. She grabbed Stan's shirt.
"First- I bring annoying little brats to my face- then I make a fist"- Stan flinched. "Then"- she made a move to hit him and he shut his eyes but instead she threw him off the sofa.
"I'm being serious Shelley! I'm starting to get used to not having whiskey to turn to but I'm afraid I'll be able to sneak it in again if I don't find an alternative soon. And Mom has been checking my room every week for anything. I wanna be trusted I can handle things in a normal way. Please, you're my big sister; you're supposed to help me. How can I take out all my frustration?" Stan looked up at her, brows furrowed.
Since he did look so desperate and almost pathetic Shelley decided to lend out a hand. "Fine. Ready to use up your one good 'big sister help card' for the month now, Stan?"
The boy nodded.
Shelley smirked as she shook her head. "Why am I even bothering? Look turd, there's only one way to really deal with the shit in your life but you're too lame to do it."
"No I'm not. What is it?"
"What do you think it is idiot? The best way to deal with shit is to be physical. You just take the first turd you see walking around and"- she slapped his face.
"Ow! What the hell?" Stan rubbed his cheek.
"You have to hit something if life gets shitty Stan. Since I still don't have my own punching bag, I have the next best thing: a little brother. You just need someone to beat up too," Shelley said fairly.
Stan glared. "I'm not going to beat up somebody Shelley."
Shelley still looked amused. "I know you aren't, that's why I'm saying it. It's a good way to deal with life but you're too much of a wuss to do it."
"I'm not a wuss! I'm not afraid to fight if I need to," Stan said in defense. Shelley laughed again.
"If you weren't afraid you wouldn't have let me beat you up all these years."
Stan grumbled. "Can you help me or not? Show me how to be…physical?"
Shelley seemed too amused to see her brother fail so she set the remote down. "Sure, yeah. Let's do it."
As Shelley stated there was no punching bag hanging in the garage or basement but she had the next best thing- boxing gloves and mitts to go over the hands to absorb the blows. She took Stan down to the basement as she slipped on the mitts.
"You're going to hit right in the middle of the mitt, got that?"
"With the gloves or not?"
Shelley smirked. "Not."
Stan drew back his fist and hit- and bruised his knuckles against the mitt. "Oww! You bitch!"
"Okay okay, put on the gloves." She was getting too much enjoyment of this so far. "Hit- with all you've got."
Stan did so but it was nothing to her. "Is that all you have? Must not have much then. C'mon, mean it this time stupid turd. Hit me hard." Another lame blow. "You better start showing me something before I just leave you here."
"I am hitting with all I have!" Stan argued. "I'm not used to this, I never hit anything."
"C'mon Stan, pretend you're hitting something you hate. Look at my left glove, what do you see?"
Stan squinted and suddenly he saw his parents. He gasped and told her.
"Hit them then," Shelley shrugged.
"I'm not hitting Mom and Dad!"
"Why do you think you're seeing them? What have they done to make you angry?"
Stan thought, brow deepening. "The whole divorce thing. I'm pissed off they divorced which left me really depressed, then got back together again, just when I was getting used to the idea. I hate how they screwed my whole brain with that shit. I still don't want them together now."
"Take out that anger then."
Stan drew in another breath and hit with the most power this time, although he didn't know if he was actually mad at his parents or the things they did overall. But he hit and hit only to stop when Shelley sighed and took off her mitts.
"I was right, you suck at this Stan."
"What?" Stan looked defeated as he breathed hard.
"I don't feel the anger. I'm just seeing this lame little kid who can't hit for crap. Face it, hitting isn't your thing." Shelley went to the basement stairs.
"Wait! Shelley, let me try again! I promise I can hit real hard this time! C'mon, I'm running out of ways to deal with stuff. I'm going insane without all my electronics and early curfew. I really want nothing more than a shot of whiskey now. Please," Stan pleaded.
Shelley looked back and rolled her eyes. "You don't even have anything to be stressed about right now idiot. It's Christmas. You act like you're back to how things were two months ago. Get over it. Life is fine again."
Her words ran through his head as he stared into the ceiling that night. Sure she was semi-right; he didn't really have anything to stress over. He was able to enjoy life again without relying on anything but there were times he just couldn't stand it and got yelled at by his friends. Who still were there for him even when he got annoying. Kyle may not agree with his methods of dealing with life so far but he was still his super-best friend again. He had two parents who loved him dearly. A warm home. Food to eat. Was doing okay grade-wise. Was healthy at the moment sans for being slightly underweight due to food tasting like crap so recently. What did he really have to be upset about? The fact that he was grounded worse than ever? Well sure but that was such a normal part of growing up. No one would agree it a real tragedy. Well, other kids might… his parents took away his video games and TV and shortened the time he spent online and with his friends. It's not as if they ever beat him for what he did. Was he really being dramatic about everything?
Stan sat up and pulled open one of the drawers of his bed and fished around until he found something. He went into another drawer for something else and clicked it on; the flashlight shown upon the red journal his mother gave him for Christmas last year. He flipped through it; a total of nine entries had been written in. Frowning, he put pen to paper.
Dear journal,
I have a lot on my mind right now so I'm going to spill it. First of all, I'm going to try and write in you as much as possible. I don't know how long I will keep it up as I still find writing down my thoughts lame but here I go.
That week of peaceful blissful TV and video game time went by too soon. As did Christmas in general and before Stan knew it he was back to his punishment, back in a world of boredom. It had been difficult getting used to that first month and there had been several moments he lost it and cursed or cried or whined about it but now he knew it was no use and he just had to grit his teeth and bear it. It did no good however that he got some sweet new video games and DVDs for Christmas either, all in which would have to wait to be used. One of the gifts he had gotten from his dad was a step into the right direction in letting go of stress however- an actual acoustic guitar.
"It's nothing fancy but I figured it would be something you'd pick up on," Randy explained.
"Hey, this is really cool. Thanks Dad."
"Yeah well, I was thirteen when I picked up my first guitar. You already fiddle around on that cheap one you've had for a few years anyway. If- if you want I could teach you some things," Randy said uncomfortably.
"Sure. That might be nice."
However the very best gift of all that he received from his parents more than made up for his overall shitty holiday so far. After years and years of begging and pleading his parents finally gave him the one thing he wanted more than anything since he was two- a kitten. It was a tabby and white and he had named her Basha. He was filled with so much happiness from her it that the remainder of his punishment wasn't too bad. And as the final days of the Christmas break slowly began to fade Stan was keeping himself busy with his newfound stress relievers. He had accepted that his life was one that things would always reset itself and he just had to be okay with it. Kyle and Shelley were right, what did he really have to be so stressed out over? Yes it was annoying his parents were back together, and it was still odd at times to see them being nice to each other but in the end, that's what mattered, right? Having two parents that loved one another? So life threw him more curveballs than the average kid. Again, Kyle was right. His role in life was to be that of an average American kid. To try and do things and react as normally as possible. To not linger too much on the bad and simply be thankful he had an overall happy enough home life. Sure Stan did take things to heart more often than his peers but that was okay too. It was okay to not see things as being sunshine and rainbows the way someone like Butters did.
Sunday night. Stan had just come from the basement with his dad who was teaching him a few simple notes on the guitar and it was now time to get ready for bed. By 9:15 he made his way to his bed. He sat up in it, running a feather toy on the bed for his kitten to chase. Sharon stepped in a few minutes later.
"Stanley… you know what tomorrow is?"
"Uhh… Monday?"
She smiled. "Well yes but it's also a really big day. Today was your last day of grounding. Tomorrow you get to have all your privileges back!"
Stan's face was blank. "Really? Oh, cool."
"You don't seem too thrilled."
"No, I am, of course. But, hm… thought I'd be more excited too to tell you the truth."
Sharon smiled. "Well just think about how much fun you get to have then. You can stay with your friends playing video games until 8 o'clock again, just like old times."
"Yeah, that'll be sweet."
After she kissed his cheek she stepped out. Stan looked at the door a minute before taking out his journal, pen, and flashlight.
Dear journal,
Weird, Mom just told me all my privileges come back tomorrow and I'm not jumping on my bed in happiness. This was supposed to be the worst two months of my life! What gives? I'm sure there's nothing Kyle wants more than to keep me up past 9 chatting with me tomorrow and I don't want to. I don't want to be all wound up before bed. I'm starting to realize I don't like that. Having a soda and my eyes glued to my computer isn't a fun as it sounds. No wonder I toss and turn trying to sleep. I'm not sure how tomorrow's going to go, the guys might pressure me into doing who-knows-what. Don't get me wrong, I'm fucking happy life will be back to normal again tomorrow but it's been nice writing in you more as well as practice the guitar with Dad and play with Basha. Anyway, we'll see what happens. I finally found healthy ways to deal with stress and now I'm going to be facing the ultimate test tomorrow to see if it really has worked. Hopefully I can keep the habit of writing in you often. Well it's been a crazy two months- it all ends tomorrow!
Talk to you later, wish me luck!
Stan
A/N: It has come to my attention that the ending of this story was a bit lame. I originally had Stan's stress-relief be him doing yoga. While he is pretty open-minded I don't know if he'd take to that so easily. I finally decided to change it up to something I felt was more in-character. Since in my own mind I see him taking up guitar by the time he's ten, as well as getting a pet cat, I decided those would be his new stress-relievers. And I tried to cut down the time Stan spends worrying if his mom still loves him or not. I was first inspired a bit by The Simpsons episode Marge Be Not Proud, in which Bart does something horrible during the holidays and he thinks his mother doesn't love him anymore. And if Stan was grounded from nearly everything he'd have all the time to mope about life and time spent with his friends would lessen. But of course things reset yet again. I do hope you think this ending is a bit better. I do still have the original ending if you'd like me to PM you it. It was fun to write Stan drunk and on laughing gas. Hilarious in the show as well.
Lots of love: Rose
Edited: October 11, 2019
Originally posted: November 2, 2011