The night seemed long. Tweek's stomach was empty and his mind was full, which made it hard for him to sleep.
A dozen times during the night Tweek woke and stared into the blackness, listening to the sounds and trying to figure out what it was. A coffee shop is never perfectly quiet. Even at midnight there is usually something stirring.
The first time he woke, he heard Cartman sleeping in the freezer. He would've been cold and frozen at that point.
"Oh my god!" thought Tweek. "Why does he have to stay up all night, eating ice cream and dancing the Cha-cha? Why can't he go to sleep, like any other person?"
The second time Tweek woke, he heard Jimmy banging on the counter with his crutches.
"What time is it?" whispered Tweek to Jimmy.
"P-p-probably about half past e-eleven," said Jimmy. "Why aren't you asleep, Tweek?"
"Too many things on my mind," he answered.
"Well," said Jimmy, "that's not my trouble. I have nothing at all on my mind, but I've too many things in my bag. Have you ever met eight girls before?"
"No," replied Tweek. "I suppose it is too much pressure. How long does take for eight girls to come?"
"A-a-approximately thirty minutes, all told," answered Jimmy. But I cheat a little. On warm afternoons, I just call them on the phone and have little conversations."
Tweek yawned and went back to sleep. In his dreams he heard again the voice saying, "I'll be a friend to you. Go to sleep-you'll see me in the morning."
About half an hour before dawn, Tweek woke and listened. The shop was still dark. Butters was asleep on the chair. Even Jimmy was quiet. Overhead, nothing stirred: Clyde was resting along with Kyle, Scott, Token, even Kenny. They all dozed off. Even Cartman fell asleep in the freezer again. The only sound was the morning birds singing, like they do in the spring time. Tweek loved the shop when it was like this-calm and quiet, waiting for the light.
"Day is almost here," he thought.
In the distance, a faint gleam appeared over the town of South Park. One by one the stars went out. Tweek could see Jimmy looking out the window. He stood there holding eight pictures of the eight girls he invited. Then he could see Butters flipping the open-closed sign. The sky lightened.
"Oh, beautiful day, it is here at last! Today I shall find my friend."
Tweek looked everywhere in the shop. He searched the kitchen thoroughly. He examined the freezer. But he saw no one new. Finally he decided he would have to speak up. He hated to break the lovely stillness of Dawn by using his voice, but he couldn't think of any other way to locate the mysterious new friend who was nowhere to be seen. So Tweek cleared his throat.
"Attention please!" he said in a loud, firm voice. "Will the party who addressed me at bedtime last night kindly make himself or herself known by giving an appropriate sign or signal!"
Tweek paused and listened. All the other employees looked at him and stared at him. Tweek blushed. But he was determined to get in touch with his unknown friend.
"Attention please!" he said. "I will repeat the message. Will the party who addressed me at bedtime last night kindly speak up. Please tell me where you are, if you are my friend!"
Butters looked at him in disgust.
"Stop your nonsense,Tweek!" said Butters, if you have a new friend here, you are probably disturbing his rest; and the quickest way to spoil a friendship is to wake somebody up in the morning before he is ready. How can you be sure your friend is an early riser?"
"I beg everyone's pardon," whispered Tweek. "I didn't mean to be objectionable."
He sat down meekly behind the counter, facing the glass door. He did not know it, but his friend was very near. And Butters was right-the friend was still asleep.
Soon the teenagers came once again. Tweek gave them the things they've ordered and when they left, he settled down for a morning nap, he heard again the thin voice that had addressed him the night before.
"Salutations!" said the voice.
Tweek jumped to his feet. "Salu-what?" he cried.
"Salutations!" repeated the voice.
Tweek's eyes went wide. "What are they, and where are you?" he screamed. "Please, please, tell me where you are. And what are salutations?"
"Salutations are greetings," said the voice. "When I say 'salutations,' it's just my fancy way of saying hello or good morning. Actually, it's a silly expression, and I'm surprised that I used it at all. As for my whereabouts, that's easy. Look over here in the corner of the shop! Here I am. Look, I'm waving!"
At last Tweek saw the person that had spoken to him in such a kindly way. In the corner of the shop was a boy about his age. He had thick black hair, a dark blue hat with a yellow poof ball on top, dark blue eyes, and was wearing the same uniform Tweek was wearing. He stood up to him in a friendly way.
"See me now?" he asked.
"Oh, yes indeed," said Tweek. "Yes indeed! How are you? Good morning! Salutations! Very pleased to meet you. What's your name, please? May I have your name?"
"My name," said the boy, "is Craig."
"Craig what?" asked Tweek, eagerly.
"Craig Tucker. But just call me Craig."
"I think you're beautiful," Tweek said, with happiness.
"Well, I'm pretty," replied Craig. "There's no denying that. Almost everyone is rather nice-looking. I'm not as gaudy as some, but I'll do. I know I can see you, Tweek, as clearly as you can see me."
"Do you work here too Craig?" asked Tweek. "This is my first time."
"Yes, but I've worked here every since I was five," replied Craig. "My dad wanted me to have a year-long job like you. Watch how I serve customers."
People who've been waiting in line caught Tweek's attention when Craig was showing him how he does his job.
"First," said Craig, "I write down what they want." He wrote the requests down on a little sheet of paper.
"Next, I make their requests." He pulled the lever of the samovar, and hot coffee poured out of it into the plastic cup. Tweek watched in horror. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, he saw that Craig was drinking the coffee before giving it to the customers.
"There!" said Craig. Now I give them the thing they wanted, so they won't complain." He gave the coffee to them. "That's how I do my job," he remarked. "I love working at this store."
"You mean you drink coffee too?" gasped Tweek.
"Certainly. Cappuccinos, machiattos, anything that comes to my mind. I love being here, don't I?"
"Why, yes, of course," said Tweek. "Do they taste good?"
"Delicious. Of course, I don't literally drink them. I add a drop of blood in it. I like blood," said Craig, and his pleasant, thin voice grew even thinner and more pleasant.
"Don't say that!" groaned Tweek. "It's way too much pressure!"
"Why not? It's true, and I have to say what is honest. I'm not entirely happy about my diet of coffee like you, but it's the way I am. I have to do something for customers so they can be happy, and I happen to work here too. I just naturally do my job the usual way. My dad worked here before me. My grandfather worked here before him. My family worked here too. We've been making our own choices for the last few years."
"It's a miserable inheritance," said Tweek, gloomily. He was a little sad because his new friend was pretty bloodthirsty.
"Yes, it is," agreed Craig. "But I couldn't help it. I didn't know why I was wanted to have a year-round job like you."
"Me neither," replied Tweek, who didn't intend to be argued out of his position.
"Well, it was unexpected," said Craig. "When I was only four years old, my parents told me to have a year round job. It was an amazing dream come true. When I first got there, my dad taught me and my little sister how to be careful, and to do what's best for us. And as for you," said Craig, putting his arm around Tweek. "It wouldn't be South Park without a place for caffine like a Dunkin Doughnuts, or an IHOP, or any other place for breakfast."
"Really?" said Tweek. "I wouldn't want that to happen. My parents had a divorce, when I was a baby, so I was raised by the marsh family, and by a young boy named Stan. Perhaps being here is not so bad after all."
Jimmy had been listening to this conversation and talking to himself. "Having Tweek here is actually a pretty good thing," he said. "He's a very good person. He knows that we're all like him, in a good way." And then Jimmy look at his pictures of the 8 girls he invited in his pocket just to be safe.
One night, Craig stood there quietly mopping the floors. Tweek lay down and closed his eyes. He was tired from his wakeful night and from the excitement of meeting someone for the first time. Tweek took out his journal and began to write in it.
"Dear journal," he wrote, "I've got a new friend. Craig is very nice to me, even though he may seem fierce, brutal, scheming, or bloodthirsty. I can still learn from him in the positive way. Yours truly, Tweek."
Tweek was merely suffering the doubts and fears that often go with finding a new friend. In good time he was to discover that he was mistaken about Craig. Underneath his rather bold and cruel exterior, he had a kind heart, and he was to prove loyal and true to the very end.