3 of 4.
--
--
--
stan/token
Slam. Stomp, stomp. Thud.
"I hate Token."
"Mnm," Kyle says, gnawing on his pencil eraser. "What the fuck is a polynomial?"
"Are you listening?" It so happens that Kyle isn't. This isn't the first time Stan has stormed into Kyle's corner in the library to complain, and Kyle is trying to study algebra, a subject that utterly eludes him. "I hate him. First he steals Wendy from me, then he steals the quarterback position from me..."
"Nmm."
"Ooo," Stan says in a high-pitched imitation of Token, which is amusing if only because Token's voice is deeper than Stan's, "I'm a preppy black asshole and I smell so good-"
"What?"
"What?"
"What did you say?"
"Me? I didn't say anything."
"Mmn," Kyle says, though this time he gives Stan a scrutinizing look. Stan clears his throat.
"So algebra, huh? You know, Middle Easterns came up with that. One more reason to bomb them."
--
--
tweek/craig
Craig fancied himself an intellectual, a scientist. In reality, he just liked to duct tape shit to other shit. So when Craig pledged to use all of his powers of reasoning to solve Tweek's gnome infestation, Tweek was worried.
Very worried.
First Craig tried duct taping various things to a vacuum cleaner. Then he stayed up all night, sipping expresso and watching the gnomes dismantle his "inventions." Then one morning, about a week later, Craig burst into Tweek's bedroom. The dark circles under his eyes made him look even crazier than usual.
"Tweek!"
"... yes?" Tweek said cautiously, edging toward the window in case he needed to make a speedy escape.
"I've done it!"
"You figured out how to get rid of the gnomes?"
"No!" Craig struck a pose. "I'm not wearing underwear!"
Silence.
"... O... kay..."
"Don't you see?! The gnomes can't take your underwear if you don't wear any!"
"Why aren't you wearing underwear?"
"What?"
"The gnomes don't take your underwear, Craig."
"Oh," Craig said. Shrugged. "Well, it's comfortable."
--
--
choksondik/mackey
The last day of Ms. Choksondik's life:
She tried to teach her students how to multiply fractions. This was difficult because that trouble maker Eric and his little friends kept snickering every time she took a sip of her coffee (which was unusually salty; maybe the coffee machine was broken? Again?)
She had a romantic encounter with Mr. Mackey on Principal Victoria's desk after-hours, then walked, bow-legged and humming, to her car. It was while getting her keys out of her purse that she was accosted by a man with an indiscernible accent who, after proclaiming he was Jacartha, The Greatest Killer The World Has Ever Known, sent by the Powers That Be in furtherance of The Plot, shot her three times.
--
--
lexus/butters
Lexus grabbed Mercedes by the arm and dug her well-manicured claws into her shoulder. "WHAT do you think you're doing waiting on table 14?"
Mercedes managed to wince and pout at the same time. It was quite impressive. "C'mon Lexi, you can't hog Stotch all the time! he gives 200 tips!"
"Butters is MY patron, Mercy." Lexus growled and dug until the pout disappeared. "GOT it?"
Mercedes nodded sullenly, and Butters, through the magic of selective hearing, grinned at the thought of Lexus getting jealous over him. He resolved to leave her an extra five.
--
--
stuart/gerald
They celebrated Gerald's promotion by taking the newly-bequeathed store keys and breaking into the pizza parlor after closing. They made pizza with literally everything on it and sucked soda directly from the fountain. They hunkered down behind the counter so no one driving past would see them, and they toasted to Jerry The Manager and the new golden age that was undoubtedly to follow. One of flex time and generous lunch breaks and all the free pizza a fixed-income kid could scarf down.
"You aren't gonna turn into the Big Bad Bossman on me, are you?" Stuart had joked, and Gerald had laughed. Of course not. Best friends forever, through shoplifting and graffiti and that fat bitchy red head that tried to get you fired by claiming you grabbed her ass - you didn't really do that, did you?
Sometimes Stuart will leave the house or the bar and drive past the pizza parlor - actually, coffee shop, because Tweek bought the place years ago - and think back to that night. And he will wonder, not when they stopped being friends, but when he stopped hating him for it - started missing him, instead.
--
--
wendy/bebe
"People used to think people were the only animals that could have sex facing each other, but then they found chimpanzees that do it too."
This would be less weird if Bebe didn't have photographic evidence. But she would be less Bebe if she were less weird, and if she were less Bebe I would like her... less. I should use "less" less.
"You're thinking again," Bebe accuses. Then adds: "Some lions hump over 50 times a day. Sometimes with other males. With their brothers. Because, when more than one male leads a pride, they need to 'ensure loyalty' by 'strengthening the bonds.' By having sex. With each other."
I kiss her, and she pinwheels her arms and says "Stooooop," stretching out the 'o' until it sounds like she's having an orgasm. She does it on purpose. "I just put on lip gloss!" She digs into the pocket of her t-i-g-h-t jeans and reapplies it. We've been doing this all day. Gloss, gloss, kiss, Stoooop!
"Dolphins," she says, covering her mouth with one hand and play-warding me off with the other, "can rape!" We're sitting on the side walk with our tennis shoes in the gutter, and passersby give us odd looks. Bebe drops her voice. "Orangutans make dildos out of wood and bark."
I press a kiss against her ear before hissing, "You 'stoooop.' Talking about animal sex is so immature. Grow up."
"Grow up?" Bebe repeats. She smirks and tweaks a strand of my hair. "Barrie made up the name 'Wendy' when he wrote Peter Pan."
--
--
cartman/heidi
"... so then you flip the paper over so that the folded sides are face down and fold the corners toward the center diagonally."
"Yes, yes..." Cartman said, rubbing his hands together. Heidi wrinkled her nose at him.
"Are you salivating?"
"Get on with it, bitch!"
Heidi glared. "Hey, you asked me to teach you how to make these. You could at least be polite." She fished a pen out of her bag. "Then you write colors on the outside, numbers on the inside, and messages on these inside flaps here."
"Yes, yes! Now give it to me!" Cartman demanded, stretching his hand out impatiently. Heidi snatched the cootie catcher back.
"Pick a color."
"Bitch..."
"Do it."
"UGH. Red."
"Number."
"I am so for seriously..."
"Number."
"Two."
"Your fortune is that you're gay," Heidi says, sniggering.
"WHAT? It's lying! I'll teach that fucking fortune teller-"
"So you're not, then?"
"NO!"
"So you'll go out for pizza with me."
"YES! Wait. ... Did you just trick me into a date?" Cartman demanded, glaring.
"Meet you at five," Heidi said, smirked, picked up her bag, and sashayed out of the room.
