A/N: A lot is going on, unfortunately and I'm behind on schoolwork (damn you, Wuthering Heights!), so I'm going to have to wait a while before updating again, hopefully next week(ish) Anyway, I couldn't resist sending them to my hometown, wistful thinking, I suppose. Please review! Kisses to you all- Lunagrrl180

Kenny's POV

I'm sitting in the back (the flatbed part) of my dad's truck, with Wendy and Kyle up front. Bitches, I think bitterly.

"Hey, assholes! Don't you have any ideas where the hell we're going?"

Wendy ignores me and Kyle simply reaches under the seat, grabs one of my Dad's old issues of Playboy and tosses it in the back, vaguely in my direction. I scramble towards it and lean up against one of the sides of the truck, skimming happily.

First stop: A drive through bank, where Kyle takes all of his bar mitzvah money out his account. I raise my eyebrows, slightly impressed that Kyle has the balls to make such a bold move, knowing that his parents will murder him when he comes back from our little adventure.

Second stop: One of those gas station marts. Kyle and Wendy head inside, for chocolate and Cheesy Poofs. I notice a pay phone; I reach into my pocket and count the few coins inside. 50 cents. I hop out and pick up the phone, dialing Stan's cell, desperately hoping that he'll pick up and we'll at least get some idea of where he is.

It rings once, twice, three times; I'm about to hang up when I hear a familiar voice, slightly irritated, "Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you? Everyone has been looking for you, dude."

"Kenny? Where the hell are you calling from? This isn't your number."

I lean up against the concrete wall of the gas station, running my fingers through my shaggy blonde hair.

I sigh impatiently, "Where the fuck are you, Stan? I'm seriouslah, "I drawl, in an imitation of Cartman.

The connection crackles, I faintly hear him laughing in the background. Suddenly, I hear heated arguing, between Stan and some weird, random guy. What the fuck?

The connection crackles again, I faintly hear Stan say, "Los Angeles," before the phone goes dead.

"Fuck!"

I'm out of change and Kyle is back in the truck, honking the horn. Before I scramble back into the flatbed, I lean over and stick my face through the open window.

"Pull onto the interstate, "I instruct Kyle, "We're going to LA."