Disclaimer&Warnings: Put what ever you want here. XD

Me-to-You: Craig only. His weekend sucks basically. Next chapter is Tweeky's weekend, gonna be sad making. Not very long. Sorry it took for ever to post.

Read it and weep shorties!

Craig Tucker was an apathetic person, normally. Most things in his life weren't enough to get worked up about. Being to angry, too sad or happy was to much work. Emotions were complicated and upsetting. He was honestly better off as the emotionless sociopath.

He stared at irate teachers asking him questions he did not fucking care about. He flipped off anyone who irritated him. He wasn't into violence, too much work for his lazy ass. Non-confrontational by simply not caring was his norm.

Sure he liked stuff, Red Racer, Guinea Pigs, hanging out at parties. But none of it meant much to him. He did not emote.

Not right now.

Craig Tucker was one pissed off motherfucker.

After returning home from Tweek's crappy apartment, and a freezing half-hour ride filled with confusing turbulent emotions, he'd checked the clock and found that it was three in the morning. He'd tried to sleep, he really, really had. He'd taken a shower, pulled on some boxers and laid under his warm blue comforter and willed himself to sleep.

But too many thoughts were spinning in his head. He was having an emotional overload.

His thoughts went something like this:

Tweek, protect, guard, fix, help, protect, why, confusion, holy-fuck-what-am-i-doing-i-don't-even-know-this-kid.

Cartman, kill, murder, bastard, fatass, needs to goddamnd die.

Clyde…

And he couldn't think anymore.

His brain committed suicide every time he tried to approach that line of thinking. All in all he was confused and he did not like it.

He knew Clyde was had obviously done some awful things and he was most definitely not some one that Craig could be around anymore. At least not with out him committing murder.

And as Craig was a sensible sort of person who did not want to end up 'Big Daddy's' bitch anytime soon, he had a problem.

The better part of his night, what was left, was spent in the circular pattern of thinking. Clyde is a problem now, Clyde doesn't know this, Token doesn't know this, Clyde was my friend, Clyde beats up Tweek, Clyde is a problem….

The pre-dawn grey color was creeping across the black sky when he finally groaned and rolled over to sleep. Forgetting the problem for now might be his best bet. He had until Monday before he really had to face it at all.

So when his alarm clock blared at eight thirty in the morning, Craig awoke from two hours sleep thoroughly pissed off. He dressed and ate his breakfast, toast dry, and headed to work.

Still pissed.

Ultimately he had gotten next to no sleep and solved nothing.

His only co-worker was an emo girl named Red. They'd been in elementary school at south Park together but he never bothered to get to know her. Or any female for that matter. He preferred limited contact with the fairer sex. Their screechy voices and constant talking tended to grate on the nerves he didn't have.

Speaking to one of them was a sure fire way to crack his emotionless mask.

Red was mostly a sensible sort of girl, slightly tom-boyish and quite while she worked behind the desk of the video store. Unless Bebe or Wendy came in. Thankfully that was rare. Most often she kept to herself, speaking to Craig only when she needed him to man the desk or get something for her.

Today she wasn't quite as smart as normal.

Not that one could blame her per-say. Craig Tucker normally had a blank face that could beat a corpse at poker. That Saturday he happened to come in like a storm cloud, a deep scowl etched on his features and his mouth turned down.

Honestly, as any self respecting female when faced with a handsome upset boy would do, she asked what the problem was.

And persisted.

Craig for his part held his composure rather well. After a night of little sleep and huge revelations he managed to ignore her pestering for a full three hours. Craig found his reserves were tapped out and he snapped, exploding when in normal circumstances and irritated non-verbal fuck off would have been dealt.

"Would you shut your fucking face you stupid whore! Goddamn it, when did I ever indicate I wanted anything to do with you? Who gave you the fucking idea I needed any slut's help? We are not friends we are not acquaintances even, fuck I go to great lengths to avoid your bitchy ass." He shouted across the counter into the face of a stunned Red.

A moment later Red was recovering and he could see he mouth about to open. He stormed up to her side, towering over her his grey eyes spitting fire and he hissed out in a painfully clear voice.

"Back. Off. Bitch."

He did not need some pushy skank trying to analyze his feelings. He did not need her to reassure him. He really did not need her to smile in sympathy or pity.

Her brown eyes began to well with tears as Craig's own narrowed. A cough behind him made him turn to face his manager.

"Craig I think you might need to take this weekend off. Go home, get some rest and come back Monday night with a better attitude." The man stated calmly. His beady little eyes and come-over of black hair making him one of the least intimidating figures Craig had ever seen.

It wasn't a hard decision. The guy who gave him his pay check had basically caught him verbally assaulting his co worker. Craig was just thankful the guy didn't give a shit about Red, only about potential customers.

Closing his eyes Craig nodded. Going home until this shit was sorted out was probably his best bet. His mother and father had left him and Ruby for the weekend any way; as long as he avoided her he would have his much needed thinking space.

Arriving home he was happy to find his sister had taped a simple note to the refrigerator, with the gayest cherry magnet ever, explaining she would be spending the week with some friend of hers. It also said for him not to bother calling, she'd blocked his number on her cell. Opening the refrigerator he found a mostly empty carton of orange juice and grabbed that. Armed with some chips from the cupboard as well he made his way to the family room.

In the family room, or the den if you were being technical (Craig hated this particular name as it made him think of the holes animal's sometimes dug to sleep in. And calling a room no one ever slept in by the name den was just wrong on some fundamental level.) the Tuckers had one massive couch made of faded grey fabric soft with use, stained brown carpet and the largest entertainment system seen In south park outside the Black's house.

Craig put in 'Casa Blanca' and proceeded to mindlessly munch his food.

Nothing was simple anymore, he concluded. Back when they had all been kid's it had been easy to laugh at cruel thing's. Back then it had been easy to go along with bastards like Cartman rather than draw attention to yourself. Sometimes they hadn't wanted to follow through on the underhanded schemes or ruin people's lives, but after the Scott Tenorman issue no one really opposed him.

And gradually more and more power was given to Cartman and any other's who had the strength to grab it. Craig himself had been officially labled 'the badass' after several instance's of flipping teachers off when they sent him to the office, numerous detions for disrespect and being caught smoking In the eighth grade.

To Criag it seemed a bit fucked up.

He gave teachers and authority figures his middle finger when they sent him out of the room because he couldn't be bothered trying to come up with excuse or to argue the sentence. He received detentions for disrespect when he fell asleep in class, couldn't answer questions and in more notable instances told the teachers he didn't give a shit about school. Craig had decided to smoke because it was something he could do to mellow out.

Smoking gave him an edge to his calm that as a child had been missing. He had begun smoking in the sixth grade, one of the few things he had tried not to get caught doing. He'd made it two years before a teacher found him crouched behind the school soccer field with a half lit camel. Within a week the rumors had circulated and kids were giving him awed looks.

It was during this time Clyde became a 'Jock' and Token one of the popular kids. It must have been during this time Tweek had drifted from their group, or been pushed. Being labeled as one of the weirder kids in South Park was no mean feat.

Craig wished he could remember what had happened or why Tweek had stopped hanging around with them, perhaps figure out just when, exactly. It seemed most of his memories of the blond boy were from afar after the fifth or sixth grade. He had gradually been less and less present in Craig's life until he had simply become wallpaper.

He'd seen Clyde bully him before his very eyes, he'd had years of classes with him, watched him shake and heard his panicky rants. But to him it was white noise. Tweek was so present and predictable that Criag had been blind to him, looked through him in so many ways.

Life simply was much too complex.

Halfway through the film Craig stopped thinking.

He would wait.

He was done.

Really.

Monday he would play it by ear. He knew Clyde and Cartman had to be stopped. He knew Tweek needed help. He didn't have a plan for exactly how he would fix it all but sometimes opportunities presented themselves.

Definitely waiting for Monday.

StarGuide2011