Author's Note: Almost got this ready by yesterday but it didn't quite work out like that. Still, at a fast clip, here's the next chapter. More than halfway done now. If you guys remember your South Park, you'll probably recognize a couple scenes here, not going to say which ones. I'd like to thank Zephyr Morpheus Lee for giving me what I needed to get this chapter done. Was hoping for a little more input from you guys but I get it. This isn't your typical high school South Park fic. There's little to no chance for romance in here. In fact, if there's any, it's all parodied.

Anyway, if you're reading the disclaimer, I am not making up that last part. Peter Gabriel, the guy known for whatever it is that he's known for, love songs, I don't know, actually has a song called Shock the Monkey. Weird ass song. Can't really understand the words except shock the monkey, which is said many times in that song. Naturally Matt and Trey used it in an episode, guess which one. I'll give you a hint: Raisens. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Peter Gabriel's Shock the Monkey.

Warning: language, suggestive themes, death

Chapter 3

Okay, black jacket? Check. Fresh pair of blue jeans…that he hadn't worn since last week and hadn't been in the wash yet? Check. Boom box? Double check. Mustard stain on his shirt that he was hiding with the jacket? Eh, Kyle wouldn't see it from here. Check.

Stan was ready.

He took a deep breath. This was it. By now Mr. Hanky should have done his work and Kyle must be feeling lonely right about now. What better way to take advantage than to do…well, this. Sure it hadn't worked last time but he figured that it shouldn't be something he should give up on.

Determined, Stan pressed the play button on the boom box and held it up over his head, eyes staring straight at the window he knew to be Kyle's as Peter Gabriel began to pour out of the speakers.

Monkey monkey monkey

Don't you know when you're going to shock the monkey

On second thought, Peter Gabriel might not be the best singer to play to get his ex-best friend back. Especially since that friend was another guy. Oh well, he was this far into his plan, he wasn't about to back out now.

It was midway through the first chorus when he saw Kyle come into view from the window and he had to restrain a smile. That would spoil the image of him being stoic and strong in his devotion.

Besides, it was Peter Gabriel. How could you go wrong with that?

He was a little worried when Kyle left the window but Stan remained strong and waited for something, anything to happen. He didn't care how long he had to wait, he was going to get his best friend, no, his super best friend back!

The door to Kyle's house opened and what do you know, there was Kyle. So that's why he left the window.

"Stan!" Kyle hissed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm standing outside your window playing Peter Gabriel, what does it look like I'm doing?" Stan replied as he continued to hold the boom box over his head.

"It looks like you're trying to wake up the whole neighborhood," Kyle retorted. "Put that thing down and turn it off before you get me in trouble."

"But Kyle," Stan protested.

"Now Stan!" Kyle demanded, pointing to the ground to emphasize his point.

Sighing, Stan obeyed, lowering the boom box and turning it off.

"Now what are you doing out here Stan? And don't say the obvious," Kyle questioned.

"I just want my best friend back," Stan answered earnestly. "Kyle, it hasn't been the same. I mean, nothing's fun anymore. Everything is so much more lame. It's…it's been like those songs about having a broken heart. You think it's just an expression but it's real. My heart, it feels…broken."

"It hasn't been a day Stan," Kyle deadpanned.

"You can't deny it Kyle. We're best friends, the best," Stan said, grabbing Kyle by his shoulders, gripping tightly. "We're like peanut butter and jelly. Pancakes and syrup. Water and oil."

"Water and oil do not mix," Kyle said.

"Then water and H20," Stan corrected himself.

"Those are the same thing," Kyle said.

"That's how close we are. Dude, you're my best friend and—what's he doing here." He had been in the middle of something emotional and stuff and then there's that douchebag peeking his head out the door.

"He's spending the night," Kyle said.

"But it's a school night!" Stan exclaimed, backing away from Kyle. "I've never spent the night at your house on a school night!"

"Yeah, his dad talked to my mom about it and she's cool with it," Kyle explained. "What does it matter?"

"Kyle, you're doing things with him that we've never done!" Stan was frantic, trying to figure out what was going on. Mr. Hanky should have shown up by now! Why was Damien still here?

"What? I can't do things with other friends?" Kyle was looking peeved now.

"Kyle still needs to show me what his—" a car beeps nearby, obscuring what Damien said, "—looks like," Damien piped up.

"His?" Stan repeated.

"Yeah, I showed Kyle mine and then he was going to show me his," Damien remarked.

"You should have seen it. Damien's was four inches long," Kyle said excitedly. "He can even touch his nose with it. I can't even do that!"

Stan was appalled. Were they doing what he…what he thought they were doing?

"That's gross!" he cried out. Already, he felt nauseous.

"What's so gross about it Stan?" Kyle asked.

Oh God, it was coming up now. He was starting to dry heave.

"Stan? What's wrong?" Kyle asked in concern.

"How could he show you his dick, dude?" Stan manages to get out with some difficulty.

"What? Gross dude!" Kyle exclaims. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with him!" Stan retorts, pointing at Damien.

"He just showed me his tongue Stan," Kyle said, frowning in disappointment at Stan. "Why would you even think that?"

Stan pauses in his self-righteous anger. His tongue? What? Oh, now he got it. That car just had to beep right at the most crucial moment. Oh ha, ha, how funny.

"I…misheard I guess," Stan said, lowering his arm.

"Damn right you misheard," Kyle said. "Come on Damien. Let's go back inside."

"Sure," Damien shrugged, heading back into Kyle's house with Kyle. However, Damien came to a stop and held his stomach, letting out an, "Ooooh."

"Are you all right?" Kyle asked, placing a hand on Damien's shoulder, a sight that was scandalous to Stan's eyes.

"Must have been something I ate," Damien answered. "I'm good. I'm okay."

"Well alright, why don't you go back upstairs?" Kyle suggested and began leading Damien to the front door.

As he reached the door, letting Damien go in before him, Kyle turned back to Stan. "Stan, I think it would be best if you didn't talk to me tomorrow. Really? Where did you come up with dick?" And then he was gone, back into his house and closing the door behind him.

Stan remained standing where he was, not taking his eyes off the door. What had happened? He had had it all planned out. Kyle was supposed to be his best friend after all this but now he didn't want Stan talking with him. How had he screwed up this time? It didn't make sense! Why wasn't Kyle alone in his house? Why hadn't Mr. Hanky taken care of business? Why didn't he have his best friend back?!

"Goddamn it!" Stan spat out.

"You know, I would have thought that would work," Bebe commented as she laid on her stomach on her bed, looking through a magazine. "Who can resist a kickass girl who's tough on the outside but kind to those who are close to her? Seriously. That should be, like, some kind of law that you can't resist that."

"Well, Stan resisted," Wendy retorted, wiping away the last of the makeup on her face. "It was only worse when his father came to the door and didn't recognize me."

"Stan's dad can't recognize his own face in the mirror," Bebe replied.

"Only when he's been drinking," Wendy felt the need to add.

"When was the last time he saw him without a drink?" Bebe asked in reply.

"Fair enough," Wendy sighed. "So what now? Any other bright ideas?"

"I don't think you should give up on the tough girl act. I swear, it does work," Bebe said. "I mean, how else do new girls get the guy of their dreams? Especially when they move to a new town and have to start their social life all over? It adds dramatic suspense."

"It's an overused cliché with little to no evidence of success that it works," Wendy retorted. "Maybe, I don't know, maybe I should just be myself."

"Yourself isn't good enough," Bebe said. "If it was, you wouldn't be here asking for help from me."

True that. Wendy winced on how dead-on accurate that was. Shoot her with an arrow while you were at it, why don't you?

"That's it!" Bebe snapped her fingers. "Why didn't I think of it before! It's perfect!"

"What's perfect?" Wendy hazard, not sure if she wanted to know.

"It's so obvious and brilliant," Bebe explained. "You're going to need another make over. You don't still have those strict morals and ethical qualms, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" Wendy wondered, not grasping what was on her best friend's mind..

"What's the one thing you can always count on?" Bebe asked.

Wendy stared at the blonde girl as if doing so would give her all the answers she sought. However, that was not happening right now so she sighed and asked, "I don't know, what?"

"Sex sells," Bebe proclaimed. "Doesn't matter what you argue, guys are always going to pay attention to our hot bodies no matter what."

Wendy stared at Bebe again but this time more in repulsion. "Bebe, we're ten."

"Ten's the new eighteen," Bebe said dismissively. "What we need to do is dress you up to show off everything in such a way that Stan will not be able to look anywhere other than you. Then bingo, problem's solved."

"That's dumb," Wendy stated.

"It's great idea!" Bebe retorted.

"There's two reasons why it's dumb," Wendy said. "The first is that it's a stupid idea. The second reason, it's a stupid idea."

"You said it's a stupid idea twice," Bebe said.

"It deserves to be said twice," Wendy said.

"So do you have any better ideas?" Bebe asked.

Wendy opened her mouth then closed it. She opened it again as if something had come to her but closed it again. In shame she lowered her head.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Bebe said as she got off her bed and headed for her closet. Flinging the door open, she gestured for Wendy to follow after her into it. Dreading what she would find, Wendy obeyed and to her immediate relief found nothing but a perfectly normal-looking closet. Clothes hanging on hangers, shoes organized on the floor, miscellaneous junk on shelves high above, nothing to really fear.

That is until Bebe began pulling out selected shirts and pants and throwing them at her. Getting a good look at them, Wendy became horrified. "What is all this!" she exclaimed as a teal, spaghetti strap shirt landed in her arms followed by pants that were definitely three sizes too small for her.

"It's stuff that my mom got me," Bebe explained, not looking at her as she continued to dig through her closet. "Says I'll grow into them, whatever that means."

"But Bebe! I can't wear any of this!" Wendy protested.

"Do you have any other ideas then?" Bebe retorted, still not turning to look at her.

Wendy sighed. "I'll go try these on."

It was a strange sound but not one unfamiliar to Kyle. He had heard it plenty of times whenever he had an upset stomach. So he wondered what could have caused Damien to have one. The sound had woken Kyle up from a blissful slumber and for a moment he had thought that his new friend might be coming down with something.

"It must have been something I ate," Damien excused, saying the same thing he had said last night. Kind of hard to believe that now when they hadn't even had breakfast yet but he let it slide for the moment.

Forgive Kyle but he couldn't help but be a little bit suspicious. Sure, on occasion, Kyle had gotten an upset stomach from his mother's cooking but usually when Damien was over and had a bit of something kosher, he farted a lot.

He was more amused by that than offended. What ten year old boy wasn't cracking up at a display of flatulence? Except for Cartman's. Those always smelled like something had died inside of the fat boy and Kyle wouldn't have been surprised if something had.

So was Damien trying to cover up that he wasn't feeling well? Jesus dude, no need to do that in front of him. Kyle knew what it was like to be sick and to be sick often. There was nothing he would judge you for and if you had an upset stomach, you had an upset stomach. At least take something for it.

At any rate, Damien had accepted that offer before they left for school.

"You feeling all right?" Kyle asked for maybe the tenth time that morning.

"It's nothing to worry about," Damien answered.

"Well, if you're sure about that…" Kyle trailed off, hinting that if he wanted to, Damien could admit his weaknesses to him. Damien didn't take him up on it, though.

"I got a call from my father," Damien said, changing the topic. "He agreed to let you come home with me."

"Wow, when did that happen?" Kyle wondered.

"When you were in the bathroom, getting ready," Damien answered.

"Oh, okay," Kyle accepted that answer as they approached the bus stop. "I'm looking forward to it." Up ahead, there were three individuals already there, waiting. Kyle knew by sight alone who they were. A small side of him was dreading their arrival because he could see Cartman, hear him too as he was ripping on Stan for something. Yeah, it had been a while since he had been mocked by the other and Kyle was sad to see that come to an end. It must have been some kind of record.

They reached the other three regulars just as Stan snapped at Cartman, "Shut up."

"Jesus Christ Stan, you need better material than that. Is that all you can say?" Cartman mocked.

"I'm not in the mood…" Stan trailed off as he noticed the two newcomers.

Kyle could still remember what had occurred last night and he hoped that it wouldn't make things awkward.

Before either of them could say anything, Cartman took the initiative. "Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join us."

Oh what to do, what to do. Should he respond? Or should he try and ignore him? He didn't want to give Damien a bad impression of him or anything but Cartman had this talent for bring out the worst in him and in the shortest amount of time as well.

"Is he a friend of yours?" Damien asked him, directing his attention away from Cartman, thankfully.

"No, not really. He just happens to be in the same places as I am," Kyle answered.

"What kind of answer is that Kyle?" Cartman challenged, imposing himself into the small world that existed between Kyle and Damien. "I'm hurt. Have you forgotten how close we are?"

"If the space between us is the Pacific Ocean, then no," Kyle said dryly.

"See Stan? You could learn something from him," Cartman turned to Stan momentarily who had his eyes glaring lasers at Damien. "And that's something since Kyle's a dumb Jew and all."

"Screw you fat boy!" Kyle snapped at Cartman. Oh great, his temper was showing.

"You don't seem to be getting along," Damien commented.

"That's because we don't," Kyle explained, trying to get his temper under control. It was such an incredibly fragile thing.

"Oh that's nice," Cartman said, looking pointedly at Stan. "Look at how well they're getting along. Makes you jealous, huh Stan?"

"Shut. Up," Stan growled.

"Seriously. You need to come up with better responses," Cartman frowned at him. "You're like a broken record."

Kenny said something.

"Who are you calling a pot?" Cartman demanded, turning on the parka-wearing blond. "How would you even know what one is? Your family's too poor to own one—ow!"

Kenny had delivered a quick jab to Cartman's shoulder and was glaring at the fat boy. More muffled speech came and to those who understood it, it was unmistakable that it was, "Stop making fun of my family dipshit!"

"Okay, okay, jeez Kenny, lighten up," Cartman huffed. "I swear, you guys aren't fun anymore."

"How long must we stand here?" Damien asked him and Kyle could hear the annoyance in his voice. So it seemed like even Damien had some limits.

"Until the bus—" Kyle began but was soon interrupted.

"Did that buttwipe say something?" Cartman butted in again. "Why'd you bring your new boyfriend here Kyle?"

"He's not my boyfriend, he's my best friend," Kyle growled at his nemesis.

"Whoa, did you hear that? Kyle got himself a new boyfriend, I mean 'best friend.' Looks like you've been replaced Stan," Cartman guffawed.

Unexpectedly, Stan grabbed Cartman by the front of his jacket and held his fist up to Cartman's face. "You say another word and I swear I'll kick your ass from here to school," Stan threatened, surprising Kyle by the amount of venom in his voice.

"Stan? Are you okay?" Kyle asked, wondering if maybe something had happened. Stan didn't normally act like this.

Before Stan could answer him, the bus decided to pull up next to the stop, the doors opening to allow them access. Knowing full well that they would be left behind if Kyle decided to press the issue, Kyle didn't wait for an answer as he led Damien on the bus. It was a matter of course that the two of them would be sharing a seat.

It was a bit surprising to see Stan glaring at the two of them and Kyle had to wonder what crawled up his ass. It wasn't his problem, was it?

"So how long do we have to ride this thing?" Damien asked.

Kyle glanced at Damien. Now that he thought about it, he had never seen Damien ride on the school bus before. He wondered why but shrugged and answered, "When we get to school. Shouldn't be too long now."

"Oh, they're sharing a seat. Look Stan, you've truly been replaced!" Cartman said quite loudly a few seats ahead.

The ride was starting to look like it was going to be a long one.

Why was this so hard? Did the universe have it out for him or something? Stan couldn't understand it and that just fed his ever growing rage.

First, last night didn't work. Mr. Hanky so let him down and he further embarrassed himself. Then Cartman has to start the morning early and rip on him. And then Kyle has to come to the bus stop with that douchebag in tow and share a seat with him on the bus! What else could happen? What else could possibly happen that could make any of this worse?

Well, maybe Kyle figuring out that he was following him and that darkly-dressed asshole throughout the school and it so totally wasn't stalking. He was making sure that Damien didn't do anything untoward to Kyle, that's all. He was still looking after him despite Kyle wanting to "see other friends." He had to watch Kyle's back, you know, because sometimes Kyle…uh…could…could attract a lot of trouble. That was it.

See how great of a best friend, no, super best friend he was? He only had Kyle's welfare in mind!

He meant it, it was not stalking, no matter what Cartman told you it was.

He grounded his teeth together as he watched them, rage barely contained. They were too close to one another. Sure, there was about a foot's worth of space between them but it was too close. How he wanted to tackle that friend-stealing asshole and lay the pain on him.

Then he heard a muffled "ahem" behind him and he reluctantly looked away from Kyle and friend stealer to see Kenny standing a few feet away from him, giving him an unimpressed look. Next came a rattled set of muffled words but Stan caught their meaning all too well.

"Dude, this is pretty fucking gay here."

"I'm not gay Kenny," Stan spat back at a potential, soon-to-be ex-friend. Geez, Kenny, don't start buying into all those lies.

Another muffled stream of words were his reply.

"I'm just making sure that that dickhole is not going to hurt Kyle," Stan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm being a decent best friend here."

Kenny replied with another muffled stream of words.

"I'm not jealous Kenny," Stan shot back. "Why would I be jealous? It's concern Kenny. There's nothing remotely similar about them."

Kenny retorted with another muffled stream of words, this time accompanied with hand gestures.

"I am not being possessive!" Stan declared. "I'm not! Why can't any of you guys see that that kid is bad news? If he can take my best friend, excuse me, super best friend, then he can take your friends too. This is completely serious and no, I am not going to get a room because I am straight. Straighter than an arrow Kenny. Straighter than…straighter than that crack in the floor!" He emphasized that last point by pointing at said crack in the floor.

Said crack in the floor was anything but straight.

You didn't need an interpreter to know what Kenny's next words were. "This is still pretty gay here."

As Stan struggled to keep from strangling Kenny, who so deserved it by the way, his attention was soon diverted by…by…soon diverted by…

"Hey Stan," a sultry-looking girl with what must have been a layer of makeup on her face and a low neckline that exposed a nonexistent chest. "I've been missing you so very much," the girl purred as she held him by the arm, pressing herself up against him.

Who was this girl and why was she trying to use him like a second skin?

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Wendy," the girl answered flatly. Then, back into seductress mode, "You've been neglecting me Stan and I've been missing you so much. Why aren't you paying attention to me?"

"Ah…eh…uh…" Stan couldn't quite string together any words that might sound coherent. He couldn't quite believe that this girl, this girl, was his Wendy. They looked completely different! Wendy dressed more conservatively and…and…uh…she wore a purple coat! Yeah, the purple coat was a dead giveaway for her. This girl claiming to be Wendy didn't have a purple coat, just a cleavage exposing white shirt that revealed her stomach, jeans that rode low on her hips, and shoes a brand that he didn't know the name of.

"Yeah Stan, why aren't you paying attention to her?" Bebe butted in, no less slutty than this girl hanging off of him. Well, she looked sluttier than usual. Her regular, non-revealing, red long-sleeved shirt was slutty enough as it was. "Oh, hey Kenny." And then the blond was hanging off of Kenny. "You're looking fine this morning."

Stan didn't quite catch what Kenny said but it sounding like he was trying the modesty schtick. He didn't miss how Kenny's eyes weren't focused on Bebe's face but on something…lower.

"What's going on?" Stan asked in a small voice.

By now, other boys had noticed his plight and were beginning to crowd around, asking each other what was going on and what Wendy was doing. Wait, you mean this girl was Wendy? More importantly, it looked like Kyle was being drawn over here. No! Kyle, don't come over here! It wasn't what you thought!

"Stan, you've been such a bad boy, ignoring me," Wendy chided him, tapping a finger on the tip of his nose.

"Such a bad boy," Bebe agreed as she neared her face to Kenny's. Kenny's eyes were flickering up and down and you could almost hear his heart pounding in his chest from excitement.

"It's your fault I have to go to such lengths," Wendy continued.

"Lengths," Bebe said, breathing the very air Kenny was breathing out. Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.

"C'mon Stan, don't you wanna…" Wendy trailed off.

"Don't you wanna—" The following has been censored out due to graphic material. Kenny's eyes were bulging, his torso was moving forwards and backwards with each throb of his heart which was beating at speeds that would make a hummingbird jealous. Th-thump-th-thump-th-thump-th-thump-th-thump-th-th ump-th-pfft.

Kenny remained standing still, silent as usual but seemingly staring blankly into space and no longer responding to anything that Bebe said. It wasn't until a few small drop of blood escaped his nose and through the tear ducts in his eyes that Stan became worried enough to push Wendy off of him to check Kenny out.

"Kenny?" he asked, snapping his fingers in front of Kenny's face and getting no reaction. Checking for a pulse, Stan soon found that there was none to be found and that meant… "Oh my God, they killed Kenny!"

"You bastards!" Kyle yelled, fist in the air.

Oh, he heard that.

"Wendy! Bebe!" And in comes Mr. Garrison, stage right…or was it left? Stan wasn't involved with the faggy drama club so he didn't know which was which. "What the hell are you doing! What are you doing dressed up like Vietnamese prostitutes? Don't you two know you have to be one hundred feet away from school if you want to whore yourselves out? You're better than this!" the balding man ranted at the two girls, glasses barely shielding the raging fury in his eyes.

"M-mr. Garrison," Wendy stuttered.

"Oh don't you Mr. Garrison me!" Mr. Garrison stated, jerking a thumb at his chest. "You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves! I mean, don't you understand zoning regulations? The corner's one hundred and ten feet away from the building, you didn't have to go far if you wanted to play adult games." Grabbing the two girls by their shoulders, the belligerent teacher began escorting them away. "Now come here. You're going to have a talk with the counselor about this. I'm so ashamed that I'm even associated with you two and your amateur mistakes!"

Then they were gone, the small group of boys dispersing until only Stan remained there with a dead Kenny who was still standing on his two feet.

"What the fuck?" Stan asked aloud, still lost.

Wendy sighed as she sat across from Mr. Mackey who was taking a sip from his coffee cup, apparently trying to gather his thoughts. She was so embarrassed and humiliated. Why had she agreed with this plan of Bebe's? And why did she have to be in here first? She just showed poor judgment and agreed to what was a horribly crafted scheme.

"Is there something wrong, Wendy, m'kay?" Mr. Mackey asked at last, lowering his coffee cup, steam rising from it still. "You usually keep yourself out of trouble, m'kay. Would you like to talk about it?"

Wendy sighed. Maybe she should talk with Mr. Mackey. Maybe he could help out with her problem that Bebe was obviously not reliable at solving.

"I know I look ridiculous but you have to believe me, there's a good reason for it," Wendy said, trying to explain the situation.

"M'kay," Mr. Mackey nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"I don't understand what's going on with Stan. He's so distant now. Before we left for Christmas break, we were always together and then halfway through the break we talked every day. Suddenly I don't hear from him until yesterday and it's like he's ignoring me! Why?" It all came gushing out of Wendy and once she began, she couldn't stop. "I went to my girlfriends and they made all these suggestions and each one has failed. That's the reason why I'm dressed like, like this! I'd never do it because I wanted to but Bebe said that sex sells and I couldn't come up with anything better so, so…"

"M'kay," Mr. Mackey nodded.

"I don't know what to do. Stan's ignoring me and I don't know why. Is something wrong with him? Is…something wrong with me? Did I do something wrong?" Wendy wondered, waiting for Mr. Mackey to answer.

"M'kay," Mr. Mackey nodded.

"Umm, that's it," Wendy said. "That's the whole situation. Do you know what I can do to find out what's wrong with Stan?"

"M'kay," Mr. Mackey nodded.

"Mr. Mackey?" Wendy asked hesitantly.

"M'kay, it sounds like you've going through a lot Wendy," Mr. Mackey said. "But don't you think you're taking it too far? You're violating the school dress code, m'kay, so I'm going to have to write you up on that."

"Fine," Wendy sighed, accepting the punishment without a fight.

"About Stan, have you tried asking him about what's wrong?" Mr. Mackey asked.

"He won't speak to me," Wendy said.

"He won't speak to you. That's going to make things difficult," Mr. Mackey commented.

She wanted to say "you think?" but she held her tongue. Now was not a good time to be mouthing off.

"Maybe you're going about this the wrong way," Mr. Mackey said. "Maybe what you need to do is give Stan some space so that he can sort through all his problems right now, m'kay."

"Space is why I'm here," Wendy deadpanned.

"I see your point," Mr. Mackey acknowledged.

"Wait, you're a guy. Maybe you could help me," Wendy said, the idea occurring to her. Sure, she would have wanted someone else but right now she was desperate.

"I don't think I'd be much help," Mr. Mackey warned, looking away from her.

"Why?" Wendy demanded, fearing that this new plan of hers was crashing before it could begin.

"Because I'm a guy. I instinctually don't understand touchy-feely stuff," Mr. Mackey answered.

Curses.

"Look Wendy, there's only one real way you can solve this problem of yours," Mr. Mackey continued. "You can find out what the cause of why Stan's ignoring you and do something to fix it so that he starts paying attention to you, m'kay. That or you try to impress him with all that anime stuff that's popular with you young people nowadays."

It clicked in her head. That was it! It was all so obvious now!

"Thank you Mr. Mackey!" Wendy thanked him. "I know what I have to do now!" And she was up and out of her chair, heading for the doorway.

"Um, Wendy? I didn't say you could leave," Mr. Mackey said but by then Wendy was gone and out of hearing range. "Wendy? Oh well. Next."

Kyle was a bit excited as he walked side by side with Damien. He was finally going to see where Damien lived. It would be nice to see where Damien stayed when he wasn't at school or his house.

That and he was getting a little worried for Damien. All day he had been having these stomach pains that had seemed to come out of nowhere. Even now, Damien had a hand up against his stomach and though he was trying hard not to, there were little signs of a grimace on his face.

"You sure you're alright?" Kyle asked in worry. "You don't look well."

"I'm fine Kyle, just a stomach ache," Damien said, dismissing his worry. There was a weird sound from his stomach. "Ow."

"No, you really, you don't look well," Kyle insisted. "Maybe you need to see a doctor. I don't want you making yourself worse because of, I don't know, manly pride. I get sick all the time. It doesn't bother me and I know what it's like."

"You're such a great friend Kyle," Damien said, beaming up at him.

"Well, thank you," Kyle said, suddenly bashful. However, he recognized the attempt to change the topic and he wasn't going to let this one pass. Health was an important thing and it was hard to get it back once you lost it. "I'm not letting you off the hook."

"I can take something when we reach home," Damien sighed.

"Fine but as soon as we do and not a second later," Kyle said firmly. "It might have to be a laxative. Whatever you ate, it's been in your system a while and I don't think throwing up is going to get it out. Since it's far enough along, you might as well help it out the backdoor as soon as possible."

"That's not a bad idea," Damien said.

So many houses they had passed by now and Kyle was wondering when they were going to reach their destination. He knew many of the houses in town, knew who lived in them and where, but they were starting to approach the outskirts of town though thankfully not near the railroad tracks and the part of town where the poor people lived. Still, they were quite a ways away from where Kyle usually frequented.

"Here it is," Damien announced, stopping in front of an ordinary house that looked pretty much like every other house in town.

Kyle eyed the place, wondering why he had never noticed it before. Then again, in this part of South Park, every place looked the same. It stood to reason that it would all blend together. Yet there was something…different about this place but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Come on," Damien said, leading the way to the front door. Kyle hurried after, keeping pace with Damien. As they reached the front door, Damien stopped and turned to face Kyle, grimacing a bit when there was another weird sound from his gut. "Okay Kyle, whatever you do, do not be surprised about what's inside. You've never seen anything like this."

"It looks like an ordinary house to me," Kyle shrugged. "I think I can handle it."

"If you say so," Damien said, reaching for the door knob and putting a key into the lock, unlocking it. Turning the door knob, he pushed it open.

Kyle didn't even blink as the sight of a normal home greeted him. This was what Damien was warning him about? It looked like his home, though the pictures on the wall looked odd. They were all hellish-looking and depicting various scenes of what Renaissance artists thought Hell was like.

"It's pretty creepy, isn't it?" Damien said.

"Not really," Kyle said as he stepped through the threshold.

"Oh. Well. I'll go upstairs and look through the medicine cabinet," Damien said as he headed for the stairs. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Alright," Kyle said, looking around the place. He was beginning to wonder why there had been such an issue for Damien's father to allow him to come over. Sure, a little of the decor was unusual but there was nothing wrong with that.

He paused in his thought as he heard what sounded like a thump. Now what could that be? Looking around his immediate surroundings, he didn't find anything to be the cause of that thump. Maybe if he looked around.

The family room with its couch and chairs that only some style-obsessed home decorator would choose was checked off soon followed by the dining room. Nothing but high end fancy stuff here. Maybe this was why Damien's father had an issue with other people coming over? Maybe it was possible he didn't want anyone messing up the furniture or something.

As he headed towards the kitchen, he heard that thump again only now he pinpointed it behind a door. If this house was designed like his was, that was the door to the basement. Now, he was having second thoughts about going into a part of Damien's house without, you know, maybe getting a tour but his curiosity was starting to kill him. He would…he'd just open the door and peek in. If he didn't see anything, he'd close it and tell Damien he heard some strange noises.

Plan in place, Kyle grasped the doorknob and opened the basement door.

His ears were greeted with a Howie scream while his eyes were met with the sight of a hellish landscape of fire, brimstone, blood, and more Howie screams. Heat wafted over him as he was bathed with a red glow while staring at the terrifying picture before him.

It was horrible to see, terrifying to watch, and…hold on a second. Kyle narrowed his eyes and looked hard at something before he widened his eyes in surprise.

"Kenny?"