Stan looked on in horror as Kyle stumbled back and fell out of the window. He was powerless to do anything but watch as Kyle's legs were flung above his head and gravity did its work. Stan ran to the window, not expecting anything but the worst from the scene before him. To his surprise Kyle had not died. Kyle had not been injured. He heard no sickening crunch as Kyle's thin, pale legs hit the marble patio under Stan's window. Only Kyle doing a pro back flip and landing on all fours like some sort of cat/human hybrid. Kyle looked up at Stan's amazed features with a smirk of malevolence.

"See you some time later 'buddy'" Kyle shouted, adding extra emphasis onto the last word. Then he walked away, pulling out another spliff from his jacket.

Stan threw himself back onto his bed and looked plainly at his ceiling with a sigh of defeat. He looked around his now wrecked room, he was surprised that his parents hadn't woken and come in all gun's blazing, literally!

Stan solemnly walked out of his room into the family bathroom. Turning on the light he lazily walked up to the mirror where his plain and ghostly white face came into view. He looked like total crap but he was going to stay like that until he snapped Kyle out of this drug crazed world he now resided.

"Come on Stan," He said to his reflection. "we can do this, we always pull through."

"But what if we don't," his reflection seemed to say back. "what if we fail, what if Kyle gets hurt. Or worse dude…"

Stan's features dropped once more and the realisation of what he had to do now struck him. Stan moved like lightning; picking up his jacket and hat from the rack in his room he soared towards his school back emptying out all of the junk from school and picking up his emergency sweet stash. He also took a flashlight, some spare batteries, and the flares Uncle Jimbo had given him for Christmas. . He was about to leave the room when his fingers paused on the door knob. His hand's slowly and softly moved towards the top drawer on his desk. Where his gun was kept. He tried to stop himself from reaching to the gun but before he could have a second though his body had already taken the gun and ammunition from his desk and left his room for the night. Not forgetting to close the door softly behind him, Stan took to the streets to find his best friend.

"Ready or not Kyle, want me or not; I'm coming for you."

Kyle was at Stark's pond once again that night. He sat mournfully on the bench facing the pond. Kyle wasn't as high as he was before he got here. That was mostly because his supply he got from the deal had been used, still, Kyle liked to think he was still high; still oblivious to all the harshness the world with it's sick, sick sense of humour had doled out to his plate.

Kyle looked on towards the crystallized pond. Its beauty transfixed him for a while, the majestic sun was rising out from the horizon and showering the pond with it's fabled warmth and hope. The rays fell on Kyle's face. He needed to get back home and grab his school bag. Then he froze; remembering the night before. Kyle's face fell. He could never go back to his normal life. But what was so great about that. No more school, no more mother, no more Cartman.

Kyle stretched up towards the sky, the cool air brisling his hair as he stood up of the bench. He was going to school all right, but not as everybody remembered him. A smirk grew across his pale face. Kyle bent down and picked up the stone form the night before, still covered in his own blood. This time the stone did not strike his flesh, but the polyester fibres of his coat.

"Time for a little style change."

Stan walked along the stone path leading up to the school grounds. He was shattered from the night before. Stan had to stop himself from hitting the wall of the house beside him with frustration. His entire night had been wasted trying to track down his elusive and startlingly changed friend.

Was it really the weed or was it still him there? Stan froze.

"Stop thinking like that," he told him self reassuringly "he was just under the influence. I'm sure he'll be alright in fact there he is now, coming to apologise!" Stan stared at the school gates and at Kyle coming towards him. Stan finally looked properly at Kyle, more importantly exactly what he was wearing. It looked like something out of a horror movie in Stan's view. He was wearing his usual jacket except it was now pitch black. The kind you would see one of the Goth kids wearing round the back of the school. Stan could clearly see it was still the same coat though. It was just spray painted black.

"Hey Stan," Kyle said grinning wickedly.

"Err hey Kyle." Stan said. He noticed his knee was wobbling, a sure sign he was nervous. Kyle seemed to notice this too but he didn't back off, infact he took a step forward thus shortening the distance between the two friends.

"What the hell is up with you Kyle?" Stan whispered though making sure he was speaking loudly enough and with enough expression to make sure that Kyle knew exactly what he felt. "You got high and almost fucking killed me!"

"I don't need you being a second mother Stan. So just lay off me and let me do what I want."

"Kyle drugs are dangerous! Look, I know you're getting really worked up about your mum and all but drugs just aren't the answer to that."

"Maybe your right…" Stan's face lit up. "or not…" Stan's face fell once more. He was just winding him up. Pulling his leg, so to speak.

"You asshole!" Stan spat "You can just run away from your problems then. Just don't expect me to be sympathetic when you come crying back to me; desperate for help since you don't have a job."

"Right back at ya buddy." Kyle turned away from Stan. "I don't plan to live that long anyway." Then he walked away from the school. The teacher at the gate noticed him. She caught up to him and place a hand on his shoulder.

"Just where do you think you're going young man?" She said sternly. Thick spectacles balanced on her nose. Kyle turned to face her. "Kyle Brofloski?"

"Yes ma'am, sorry about this but I have better things to do with my time than sitting on my arse all day doing shit all."

"What has come over you young man! I'm be phoning your mother if you walk any further!" Stan watched in anticipation. That might just get Kyle back into school. Just maybe…

"Go ahead." Shit. "I don't think she really cares anymore anyway. I mean, why should she? I don't." His foot steps grew quieter as he walked round the corner, not even looking back to the place he had once loved so much. It was his time now. His time to gain money, respect. I think it's time for a hair cut. He thought as he walked past a stylist. But how to get the money?

That's it for this chapter. Thought I better update this one while I have the chance. My new story has taken up most of my writing time. Review please!