"C'mon, Stan, it's just one fucking drink." Kenny slurred.
"He's a pussy, he's not gonna do it." Cartman muttered, equally shit-faced and even more out of it than usual. His mom was PMS'ing something major and forcing him to go on a diet. Cartman, in return, had realized he could get an equal number of carbs and sugars from beer. And who better to provide the free booze but Kenny? Cartman had waved some money in front of his face, and Kenny had managed to get his hands on his parents' sixpacks for the promise of 50 dollars.
"I can do it and I'm not a pussy, but someone should be the responsible person in this group. What if the cops find us, dickhead?" Stan replied.
"They never come to Starks Pond. And besides, officer Barbrady's not gonna do shit." Kenny muttered, taking another swig of Pabst.
Stan rolled his eyes and wandered farther away from them. Wendy had been getting on his nerves way too much lately; she insisted Stan ask her to the Middle School Easter Dance "properly, like a gentlemen should." Stan had given her a rose and Wendy said it wasn't romantic enough. He wanted to punch her in the face.
Instead, he'd agreed to come out to Starks Pond with Kenny and Cartman, a decision he was now regretting. Stan pulled out his phone and texted Kyle:
Stan: Hey dude. Bored out of my mind. You?
Kyle: Stan! Nothing, I'm just studying. I have to turn in this application for a really expensive prep high school.
Stan: What the fuck? Thought you were coming to SP for high school?
Kyle: Can't afford it. I can get a scholarship here for high school and that'll get me into Ivy League.
Stan: Fuck Ivy League. Thought you were coming here.
Kyle: I know. But I don't think I can.
Stan: Are you avoiding me?
Kyle: I'm in NY. How can I be avoiding you?
Stan: I don't know! I can get Uncle Jimbo's apartment if you need a place to stay.
Kyle: Stan… I don't think you understand here. It's harder than that.
Stan: Do you want to stay away from SP because I'm here?
Kyle: That's the only reason I want to come back.
Stan: Have you come out to your parents yet?
Kyle: No. We decided to do that together, Stan.
Stan: I know. I just think you're always so confident about what you want that you'll do it without me.
Kyle: You're my best friend. I wouldn't do that to you.
Stan: Why do you still use that stupid line about us bein friends? You know we're so much more than that. We've known it since we were both in 3rd fuckin grade. Since I kissed you.
Kyle: We agreed to talk about this when I saw you again back in 6th grade. We're still in 8th grade and I haven't seen you yet. That's not fair, Stan, you can't just change our deal.
Stan: Fuck you.
Sitting in front of his computer in New York, Kyle took off his hat, the only thing he still wasn't capable of changing after having moved, and gently massaged his head. This was what it was like talking to Stan every single time. It was always the same argument, and it ended with Stan being mad as hell and then making up eventually a few days later.
But Stan was wrong. He thought Kyle was the confident one in this scenario, that Kyle was so sure he was gay, but it was just the opposite. Stan had been the one who was always sure he liked guys, even when he was too young to understand the sex and attraction. He brought the topic up and he swore he would wait. He embraced it. On the outside, Stan continued to date Wendy, but on the inside, Stan knew for sure.
Kyle didn't know what was going on. He'd always thought he loved Stan, but more and more recently he was beginning to have his doubts. His mom was always going on about how someday Kyle was going to have the most perfect Jewish family and she pushed him always to get out of the house and hang out with girls. Could he really look her in the eyes and tell her he wasn't into girls?
Kyle glanced at his essay, about his greatest accomplishments and challenges. He wrote of his insecurity about fitting in, his brother Ike, about handling his fathers expectations, of moving from his friends, of his life. Finally, he texted Stan back.
Kyle: What if you could come to New York? For high school?
Stan: Could we live together? I have some money saved up, but it's definitely not enough to be on my own all through high school.
Kyle: Not at my place. You know how my parents are. I can't even have sleepovers, my mom wouldn't let you live permanently. Overprotective Jewish moms are like bears. LOL.
Stan: No, I can't come to NY then. Not sure I want to.
Kyle: Stop it, Stan, I've been saving up for a while and I think I can get a job soon. Stop being so negative.
Stan: I've been waiting for you for a while and you're making jokes.
Kyle: I'm sorry. I miss you, I just wish I could talk to you for a while and not fight about it.
Stan turned off his phone in anger and started heading back to the noises of Cartman and Kenny. They both had their pants down and were pissing in the lake.
"Hey, Keeeneeeh, look how far I can go. That rock right there!"
"I can hit the pole, fatass."
"Fuck you, I can hit the pole!" Cartman insisted, swinging his dick out toward the pole. Piss flew everywhere. As Stan walked past him, Cartman said, "Hey, hey Stan! Look at me!"
"Fuck off, Cartman!"
"No, you fuck off, Stan!"
"Nobody fuckin likes you, everyone thinks you're a lonely loser asshole who's too fat and ugly and wants to fuck his mom! We only hang out with you because we pity you and you sometimes give us money." Stan screamed, his face turning red with rage. His anger with Kyle had reached an all time high and all he could think of was taking it out on the person everyone hated.
Kenny slowly zipped up his pants and reached for another beer, backing away from the tension.
"Oh, yeah? Well, let me tell you something! Everyone hates you because you're a moping whiny bitch, and Wendy's gonna break up with you for Clyde! And I know this because Wendy told Bebe who told Brad who told Butters AND BUTTERS IS MY FUCKIN FRIEND!"
Cartman stood there, dick in hand.
Kenny stood there, beer in hand.
Stan stood there, phone in hand. Then he walked away.
"Is it true, Kenny?"
"What?" Kenny asked. He was sprawled out on Cartman's bed, playing his PSP. The alcohol had pretty much worn off and both had an impending headache from their first middle school drunk experience.
Cartman turned away from the mirror and said "Am I a fat, ugly loser who everyone hates?"
"Who gives a shit? You definitely shouldn't. C'mon, it was obvious Stan was pissed about something, and he's a good guy so he must've been under pressure. People under pressure lie. They do stupid things." Kenny answered, not too concerned.
"Keeneeh! I care! Why doesn't anyone hang out with me?" Cartman demanded.
"I'm here, aren't I?" Kenny asked, looking up with an expression of mild hurt.
"Yeah, but you hardly count. You're poor as shit." Cartman dismissed him.
"… what the fuck, dude? Because I'm poor I don't have feelings? Or because I'm poor, you pretend I don't count?" Kenny asked, sitting up.
"No, but you're not a real friend right? You just need someone to hang out with because you're so poor nobody else likes you. And I'm awesome and tolerant, so you're here for my attention. Right?"
"You fat fuck. You're serious, aren't you?"
"What's your problem, Kenny?" Cartman asked.
"You know what, Eric Cartman? I was friends with Craig and he always talked shit about you and I walked out on him because I didn't like that he made fun of you. I blew off Craig for you and you're nothing but a douchebag." Kenny grabbed his PSP and stomped out of Cartman's room.
"Wait, wait!" Cartman pleaded wildly.
"What do you want?" Kenny snarled, whirling around.
"Don't you want to get paid for the beer?" Cartman asked, slowly pulling out his wallet.
Kenny stared at him for a minute before grabbing Cartman's wallet, throwing it down the hall and yelling "Suck on that, asshole!"
As he marched down the steps, he spotted Cartman's mom staring at him. "Oh, dear, is everything alright?" She asked hesitantly.
"No, Ms. Cartman. I'm sorry for your son. He just lost his last friend."