(Cut to: Mr. Garrison's classroom. Mostly everybody is in their seats. Stan takes his seat in-between Token and Kyle and Wendy takes her seat in-between Quincy and Butters. They both get out some paper and pens to prepare to take some notes for class.)
Wendy: (She hums a certain melody to herself while she begins drawing some two-dimensional flowers on the corners of her paper. All the while, she shifts her focus to Stan, who is sitting directly in front of her. While she doodles, Quincy and Juliana begin taking notes. However, they are not taking any notes pertaining to their academics; they are taking notes on Stan and Wendy's behavior. After a few moments, Wendy notices that the Morales twins are gazing at her.) Is everything alright?
Quincy (as he and Juliana turn back to their notes): Yes, yes, of course. Everything is fine.
Wendy: Alright, then (She is still somewhat suspicious, but decides to put that thought aside). So, how many of the others accepted your parents' offer?
Juliana: What offer?
Wendy: You know, when they said they would invite us all over to dinner?
Quincy: Oh, you mean that offer! (He scoffs) As it turns out, we'll have a full house tonight. Everyone we invited agreed to come by.
Stan (looking over his shoulder): Cool. I'd like to ask; will it be a formal or a casual dinner?
Juliana: Most likely, it will be formal; our parents like to use an elegant approach when making first impressions on new neighbors.
Stan: Smart thinking. First impressions are really important. Too bad most people don't realize that when they're on their first date.
(At that same time, Butters is playing Angry Birds on his iPad. After completing one level, he achieves a three-star rating.)
Butters: Alright, take that, you pig bastards! (Cartman leans backwards diagonally and rests his arm on Butters' desk. Soon, Butters notices this and looks up) Oh, what's up, Eric?
Cartman (whispering): Butters, I need to borrow your iPad for a moment.
Butters: Why? What for?
Cartman: I can't say why at the moment. Just let me see it (Butter hesitates, and then hands over his iPad). Thanks (Cartman closes out of Angry Birds and opens up an Internet Explorer tab. He types in "CIA high priority access files" and clicks on the first item that pops up. Then he enters a series of complex codes into the subsequent mainframe. Butters looks over Cartman's shoulder, feeling rather curious).
Butters: Eric, What are you doing?
Cartman (quietly): I'm hacking into the CIA network.
Butters: Why?
Cartman: I need to look up the files of Quincy and Juliana's parents. If I can manage that, I'll be able to read all about their line of work.
Butters: Why do you want to know about that?
Cartman: I stopped by their house yesterday. They are very rich, Butters. I figure that if I at least pretend to know everything about their work, I can get on their good side, which could come with nice, healthy benefits.
Butters: But why exactly do you need my iPad for this? Why couldn't you just use yours?
Cartman (not taking his eyes off the screen): For two reasons: One, my iPad isn't from Apple; it's so slow and crappy that I doubt it could handle the complexities of the CIA database, and two, I need to make certain that what I'm doing is legal.
Butters (a little stunned): What… what do you mean?
Cartman: Unauthorized entry into top secret government files is a federal offense, Butters. If this is the case with the CIA, they would most definitely notice that someone had hacked into the system. They could then track the source to its exact location. For that reason, I couldn't do it from my house or use my own iPad.
Butters (scared): But… but, Eric… wouldn't that incriminate me?
Cartman: No, of course not, Butters. The CIA would never suspect someone like you.
Butters: Eric, are you sure this is worth the risk? I'm already in enough trouble with my parents as it is.
Cartman (sighing): Butters, if I get away with this, I'll share my benefits with you.
Butters (easing down a little): You will?
Cartman: Of course. But I need your full cooperation.
Butters: Well… (He sits thinking for a moment, looking around and rubbing his hands together nervously. Soon, he gives Cartman his answer) al-alright.
(Kyle has overheard most of their conversation. He angrily gazes at Cartman out of the corner of his eye. Stan notices this and leans over to his best friend.)
Stan: Kyle, just ignore him. Nothing you can say will make him change his mind.
Kyle (still glaring at Cartman): I know, Stan; I just wish that Cartman would not try to exploit every rich or upper-class family that moves into town. It's probably thanks to him that this town has remained so small and suburban.
Stan: Nothing we can do will stop him, that's for certain. Besides, we all know he's just going to wind up embarrassing himself as always.
(Mr. Garrison enters the classroom carrying a stack of papers.)
Mr. Garrison: Okay, children, settle down please (the students quiet down and focus their attention on their teacher). Now, before we begin, I need to hand out these flyers. Principal Victoria insisted that you be given them as early as possible (He moves around the classroom and gives one sheet of paper to each student. The students take them and read them over as Mr. Garrison continues passing more sheets out).
Wendy: What are these, Mr. Garrison?
Mr. Garrison (walking up to his desk): Announcements for the school musical. Auditions for it will be held next Monday.
Cartman: Wow, that's pretty gay, Dude. Why would anyone want to take part in something so degrading?
Quincy: How nice to see that this school has a performing arts department.
Juliana: Indeed; our parents will be thrilled to know about this.
Cartman (quickly changes his tone): I mean, boy, this is going to be awesome! I love musicals, don't you all? (No one responds)
Wendy: Why couldn't the faculty just put these up in the hallways? I'm certain everyone would have been able to see them fine from there.
Mr. Garrison: Because this year, we're doing three different musicals. One will involve the fourth grade class, one will involve the fifth grade class, and one will involve the sixth grade class.
Kyle: Does that mean we all have to try out?
Mr. Garrison: Yep, you all have to participate.
Class: Awwwww!
Bebe: Why do we all have to contribute? Why do we even have three musicals?
Mr. Garrison: Because many of the students' parents put in requests for the school to have a more diverse art department. So upon their requests, the school board expanded the performing arts section.
Kenny (muffled): This has got to be gayer than Clay Aiken. (Several of the other students laugh)
Stan (looking over his shoulder at Wendy): I'll bet my Dad had something to do with this. He's been trying to get more musicals into the town ever since he and my Mom went to New York.
Wendy: Oh, well; at least we'll have a bit more culture in our school.
Stan: True. I just hope I'm as good as Bridon Gueermo!
Wendy (chuckling): Stan, relax! Bridon has nothing on you!
Stan (turning around to fully face her): Thanks for saying that; that means a lot to me.
Wendy (grinning): No problem (The two of them lean closer to each other and kiss on the lips. They prepare to pull apart, but move in for another kiss. Stan rests his hand on the back of Wendy's head as if to keep her in place. Several of the other students watch them and giggle. Quincy and Juliana take more notes on their behavior).
Mr. Garrison: Stanley, would you mind taking your tongue out of Wendy's mouth and paying attention? (At this, Stan quickly pulls away from Wendy and turns around)
Stan: Sorry, I, uh… I lost a contact lens down her throat (Several of the students laugh).
Mr. Garrison: Stanley, you don't wear contacts.
Stan (looking a little nervous): I never said it was my contact (The class laughs louder).
Mr. Garrison (rubbing his chin): So that's where it went. I could've sworn I lost it somewhere else (The class chortles. Once the class settles down, Mr. Garrison turns to the board and picks up a piece of chalk). Okay, children; now let's get back on track. Last week's episode of Breaking Bad featured…
(The rest of his dialogue is drained out. Wendy taps on Stan's shoulder. She whispers something in his ear which makes him grin deviantly.)
Stan (quietly, lustfully): You naughty girl… (She smirks back at him as Quincy and Juliana keep an eye on them. Stan whispers something into Wendy's ear, which appears to arouse her.)
Wendy (quietly): You're going to do that… with me?
Stan: No, I'm still won't be done with you by then (This seems to excite her more).
(Quincy leans over to his sister and whispers something into her ear. She just nods in response.)
Juliana: I agree. For a town that regularly faces below-freezing temperatures, icy surfacing on houses, and huge amounts of snow for eleven months of the year, South Park has pretty hot and steamy romances.
(Cut to: 4th Grade Hallway. Cartman, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny are making their way to lunch. Kyle still has his copy of the flyer in his hands, as he seems to be rather interested in its content.)
Kyle: I never thought I'd actually participate in a school musical. I just hope I don't sound like an idiot when I sing.
Cartman: Relax, Kyle. Jews can sing.
Kyle (raising an eyebrow suspiciously): I'm glad you think so.
Cartman: I actually have this great idea for our audition. The four of us could try out as a quartet and sing an excerpt from an Italian opera. But, we can rewrite the lyrics so that we're actually singing dirty insults at everyone! Seeing as how we'd be singing in another language, we cannot possibly get busted for it!
Kyle: Unless one of the judges knows Italian, of course.
Cartman: Yeah, right. Give me a break, Kyle. Who in this day and age gives two craps about that dying language?
Kyle: Cartman, Italy has won the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar at the Academy Awards ten times.
Cartman: True, but how many times has it won since the year 2000?
Kyle (after a moment's pause): None. The last Italian movie to win Best Foreign Language Film was Life Is Beautiful in 1998.
Kenny (muffled): On the subject of Italy, did you guys know that Vatican City has the lowest age of consent out of any country in the world? You can legally get laid when you turn 12 years old.
Cartman (surprised): Really?
Stan: No, that has got to be bullshit, Kenny!
Kenny (muffled): I'm not joking; look it up. As you turn 12, you can have sex without getting in trouble with the law.
Stan: Wow, and I thought French people had the most trouble controlling their urges (Kyle and Kenny laugh).
Cartman: Oh, you're one to talk, Stan! Wendy almost looked as if she was going to choke on your tongue this morning during class.
Stan: Shut up, Cartman! People kiss like that all the time.
Kyle: Actually, Cartman did raise a good point. Ever since recess yesterday, you seem to be more and more focused on spending time with Wendy than anything else.
Stan (slightly irate): So? What does that matter? I have an obligation to give her my time and attention. After all, the main reason she broke up with me once was because I couldn't make time for her.
Kyle: I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, Stan, but for the past day, you haven't exactly been… discreet.
Stan (sarcastically): Oh, really? I haven't been discreet? Why do you care?
Kyle (alarmed): Dude, calm down. That's another thing; whenever we bring up your relationship with Wendy, you seem to get aggravated really easily.
Stan: Maybe that's because it's a private matter and none of your business. And besides, who are you to call me irritable? I mean, you have the shortest temper out of anyone I know, Kyle!
Kyle (slightly offended): What? That is horseshit!
Kenny (muffled): Actually, dude, I think he's right.
Cartman: Yeah, Kyle. No offense, but you can fly off the handle really easily.
Kyle (angrily): Well whenever I do, it's your fault most of the time, fat-ass!
Cartman: Oh, sure, try to pin everything on me!
Kenny (muffled): Actually, you are the one to blame for a lot of things!
Cartman (taken aback): Is that how this is going to be? The two of you try to bring me down? Well it ain't gonna work!
(As Cartman continues arguing with Kenny and Kyle, Stan walks off, rolling his eyes. He spots Wendy down the hallway and runs to catch up with her.)
Stan: Off to lunch?
Wendy (turning to him): You know it! Maybe today we could eat together.
Stan (shrugs): That sounds fine to me. I'm totally free, seeing as Cartman, Kyle, and Kenny are too busy arguing with each other. God, they're so immature.
Wendy (giggling): No kidding. I prefer to have something more constructive to talk about over lunch (The two of them walk off towards the cafeteria).
(Cut to: the cafeteria. Stan and Wendy are sitting next to each other at a table, eating lunch with Quincy and Juliana, who are sitting on the opposite side.)
Juliana: I heard that CATS is the musical the fourth grade is putting on.
Stan: Really? I've heard a lot of mixed things about CATS; some people say it's a masterpiece, others say it's a colorful work of art, and others say "what the hell did I just watch?" after seeing it. (The others snicker)
Quincy: That sounds about right. It still amazes me how a musical that has no spoken dialogue, excessive dance numbers, barely any plot, and a completely sung-thru story could become so popular.
Wendy: Well, I know that most of our mothers love musicals for the costumes, sets, and songs. But I would question our fathers' motives.
Stan: No kidding. I still remember that time when my Dad went through a phase where he saw a bunch of different plays with my Mom. He once tried to write his own musical entitled "The Woman in White." He even got people like Andrew Lloyd Webber and Stephen Schwartz to help him out.
Juliana: Really? Did he ever finish it?
Stan: Nope. He gave up on that project after my sister's boyfriend died in an accident at a showing of Wicked in Denver. That's a peculiar thing about my father; he always finds time to manage a second job and lead an active social life at the same time.
Quincy: What does your father do for a living?
Stan: He's a geologist. As far as I know, he's the only one in the state of Colorado. It's odd how he can be incredibly dim-witted at times, yet he's very good at his work. I don't know how my Mom can put up with his antics at times.
Juliana: Does your mother have a job?
Stan: Yes, she's the receptionist at Tom's Rhinoplasty. If you ask me, she's really overqualified for that line of work. She's much smarter than my Dad, but she can still have poor judgment every once in a while.
Wendy: It's the same thing with me; my mother is the city planner on the City Council and my father is a mechanic. While his job requires more skill, she has more political awareness and experience than him. All the same, they can both do foolish things. In fact, a lot of the adults in this town are really idiotic. I guess we're lucky to have your parents around now; it'll probably even everything out.
Quincy (scoffing): I guess so (Short pause). So… how long have you two been together?
(Stan and Wendy look at each other out of the corners of their eyes, and then they look back at Juliana and Quincy.)
Stan: A very long time. It feels like it's been years, but in actuality, it's only been since the third grade.
Wendy: Yeah. In fact, we broke up at one point and went our own ways. But a long time later, we worked together to bring down this corrupt committee formed by my best friend Bebe. Once we succeeded, we realized how much fun we had with each other, as well as how much both of us had changed. So we got back together.
Stan: Definitely one of the smartest choices we ever made as a pair (He smirks and wraps her arm around Wendy. She smiles at him and they kiss).
Juliana: Tell me, are you two always this amorous around each other?
Wendy: Not really, no. But right now, I find that I can't pry myself away from Stan even if I wanted to.
Stan: It's the same with me. I don't know why, but I feel as if separating myself from Wendy would deliver a devastating blow (Quincy and Juliana look at each other, a look of concern in their eyes. This is not overlooked by their new friends).
Wendy: Is everything alright? You seem worried.
Quincy: Oh, no. Everything is… everything's fine. Let's change the subject, though.
Stan: Alright then (pauses). What time do you want us to arrive at your house?
Juliana: How about six-thirty? We normally do not eat dinner until seven o'clock, but we'd like to have a little time for your parents to get to know our parents and vice versa.
Wendy: That sounds reasonable. I wonder what I should wear…
Stan: Whatever it is, I'm certain you'll look drop-dead gorgeous in it! (They both chuckle playfully.)
(Cut to: the Marsh Residence, front room. Randy is dressed in a blue suit, fastening up his tie. Sharon enters in the room in her white and black dress with her matching purse in her hand. After tightening his tie, Randy looks at his watch.)
Randy: Oh, boy; it's six-fifteen. We better hurry if we're not going to be late.
Sharon (stepping by the staircase): Shelly, Stan, let's go! (A few moments later, Shelly comes down the stairs alone in a floral dress. ) Where's Stan?
Shelly: Still in the bathroom. He's been in there for like a half-hour.
Randy (calling out): Stan, come on! We're going to be late!
Stan (faintly calling): Just give me a minute! I'll be right there.
Randy: Alright! (He sighs and steps back to face his wife) This is odd; Stan never takes this long to get ready.
Shelly: Makes me glad I decided to use the bathroom first (A few moments later, Stan comes down the stairs dressed in a small brown suit. He has removed his hat and his hair is nicely combed).
Sharon: Wow, Stanley; you look so handsome!
Stan (gratefully): Thanks, Mom. I'm glad you like it. I was worried that it might have been a little much.
Randy: No, you look great, Stan. Now let's go before we're late.
Stan: My thoughts exactly, Dad.
(Cut to: the highway, the Marsh family's car. Randy drives towards the center of the district with Sharon riding shotgun and Shelly and Stan sitting in the back seat. After a moment, Shelly smells the air, as if some form of scent has caught her attention. Then she turns to her younger brother.)
Shelly: Stan, are you wearing cologne?
Stan (proudly): Why, yes I am, Shelly. Thank you for noticing.
Randy (smelling the air): Did you borrow some of mine?
Stan: Yeah, I hope you don't mind.
Randy (smelling it again): That's some pretty potent stuff, Stan. Which brand did you use? F By Ferragamo? Cartier Declaration? Jack Black JB?
Stan: Chikara, actually. (Randy is so surprised by this answer that he almost jerks the car to a halt. But fortunately, he manages to keep going without stopping.)
Randy: Stanley, did you say you used some Chikara?
Stan: Yes. Why, Dad? What's wrong with that?
Sharon: Stanley, that's pheromone cologne. You shouldn't wear it unless you want to get very… "comfortable" with someone else.
Stan (innocently): Alright, Mom. I'll remember that next time. Do you still think it smells nice?
Sharon: Actually, yes. It's a wonderful smell.
Randy (looking at Stan with the rearview mirror): Just be glad you're her son, Stan. Otherwise she'd probably do something very impulsive right now.
Sharon (lightly smacking her husband on the back of his head): Randy, that's disgusting! (Stan and Shelly just laugh.)
Randy (lightheartedly): Sorry, Sharon. I'll make it up to you when we get home.
Sharon (grinning wickedly): I can accept that. (Randy continues driving without another word. Eventually, they reach the center of the district. Randy looks out for each house's street address, but has trouble making them through the chilled glass of the windshield.)
Randy: Which house is the Morales family's, Stan?
Stan: The tan one, Dad. That one just a dozen meters up.
Randy: Good, we're here (He parks the car in front of the Morales family's house. Stan rubs his hands together eagerly.)
Stan (to himself): Let the excitement commence!
Note: It won't take anywhere near as long for me to update next time, I promise. In the meantime, review please! I'll take any form of criticism, but I prefer it to be constructive criticism.