Pairings: None intended, but I can't stop you if you want to see this as Stan/Kyle, or Stan/Cartman, or whatever. I don't care.
Genre: Satire, coming out, teen angst, friendship
Summary: Stan's got it bad enough being almost fifteen and, to his knowledge, the only gay kid in town. In the midst of coming to terms with this, his stupid dad has to take gay rights activism to extreme and humiliating levels. Why can't he just have a normal life?
Warning: SJW Randy, or Risa spends too much time on tumblr and now needs to make fun of the worst of it. Not all social justice is bad. I won't be attacking feminism, or anything like that. Just making fun of the people who say stupid shit like "why would you choose to be cis when you can choose to be cool" and "kill all men." If you're on tumblr then you probably know the ones. Also, foul language and occasional use of slurs, because it's South Park.
A/N: Speaking of which, I saw some post on tumblr awhile ago where someone linked some interview with Trey Parker, and I guess over a decade ago he supposedly claimed that among the main boys Stan is most likely to come out as gay. Thus the idea for this fic was born.
Gay Pride with a Side of Cake
By Risa
It was seriously six in the fucking morning, and Stan swore that he could never get used to this. High school was a piece of shit. He had to set his alarm to 5:15 seeing as he had a nasty habit of mashing the snooze button. No one should have to wake up while it's still dark out, yet here he was, basking in the glory of eyes that were too heavy, a bed that was too comfortable, and a room too cold and too dark to crawl out of bed for.
It was either that, or Shelley would drag him out of bed by his ears. It made no difference to her that he was now taller than her, and could probably take her in a fight now. She wasn't as mean as she used to be, but that's more or less because she made a point to avoid her family as much as possible.
Now that was something Stan couldn't blame her for.
With great trepidation he rose from his toasty cocoon of blankets into the cold and sucky world of the living. While throwing some socks on he'd exercised the thought of shaving, but decided he was just too lazy to do it, even if his face itched. He'd shower real quick, have some toast, and hop on the bus. It'd be like any other long, shitty, stupid, pointless day with any luck.
Of course, luck wasn't a very common factor in the life of Stan Marsh. Something weird was always happening, but Stan had gotten very good at ignoring it and not getting involved. There was just a point where he had given up on humanity in general and just didn't want to bother with any of it anymore. Everyone was stupid. Everyone sucked. Stan just felt like being in his own little bubble where none of that could touch him.
That was easier said than done, though.
"Stan, did you hear about that church that got sued for refusing to marry the Wiggle-Thorps?" said Randy, who spent much of his time at the dinner table glued to his tablet.
"Wiggle-Thorps?" Stan asked, and regretted it immediately.
"Yeah, they're a gay couple in Nevada that just wanted to get married like everyone else, and this church was imposing its problematic homophobic beliefs on them. Like, gawd! Just marry them. It's the law!"
"Umm. Wow," said Stan, inhaling his toast as quickly as he could. He really couldn't care about some random assholes in Nevada when he could barely keep his eyes open and had a test in algebra in less than an hour, yet every morning started like this.
Randy was always prone to changing his world views and shit like that, but for the past two months it got really weird and messed up. Like, going on various social networking sites and anonymously telling ignorant people to kill themselves saying even the most vaguely racist, sexist, or homophobic things. Now, Stan wasn't exactly above that behavior when he was like eight or something, but seeing it from a grown ass man who was graying was something else.
Randy made a point to bring various world issues into every damn conversation, and managed to miss the point of all of it. Like, gloriously miss the point. They had dinner with the Blacks one night, and it was two uncomfortable hours of Randy rambling on and on and on about white privilege, police brutality, the flawed education system, Black History Month, Morgan Freeman, and so forth, complete with him drunkenly yelling over everyone and no one getting a word in edgewise. Sharon didn't come home for nine days after that, she was so angry, and never in his life had Stan wanted to die more than in that moment. It was so bad that Token straight up told Stan, "I feel sorry for you."
After that fiasco Randy went on his weird radfem kick that lasted maybe two weeks until Sharon threatened to, once again, break the divorce papers out. He got into bar fights over women being too scared to partake in society because all men are inherently rapists, tell them they're mean and bossy, and cheerleader uniforms promoted rape culture. Wendy said that it was people like this who made the feminist movement look like a sick joke, and Stan took her word for it. After all, he had long since given up on society in general, so what the fuck did he care?
Of course, nothing hit closer to home than Randy obsessively devouring news articles and blog posts about every injustice ever experienced by gay people and telling Stan all about them. The one time Stan made the mistake of saying he didn't want to hear it, he got a long lecture about the importance of destroying ignorance, spreading knowledge, being openly supportive, leading by example, checking his privilege, and taking responsibility for every wrongdoing ever committed against oppressed people. Stan informed him that he'd been openly supporting the gay community since he was eight years old. He even reminded Randy that, somehow thanks to him and Kyle, gay marriage was legal in Colorado, and he was OK with that.
He was grounded for a week for making gay rights "about him."
Which it technically was, not that he wanted his dad to know.
That's right. Stan Marsh was one lonely homosexual boy in a secluded snowy hick town. Fun, fun.
It wasn't long after his first depressive episode in fourth grade where Wendy popped the first question that ruined his life: "Why don't we ever spend time together anymore?" Stan just shrugged and ate his pizza. In a sudden fit of frustration Wendy grabbed him by the collar and kissed him right in the cafeteria. It was greasy and it kind of hurt, but oddly enough, it wasn't nauseating. He did blush, mostly to the sound of people gasping and giggling, and it killed his appetite a bit, and he did not throw up. She even blocked her face after pulling away, anticipating an explosion of puke that would never come. He just stared at Wendy like she was weird, and she ran away crying. Cartman laughed about it for five days straight until Stan got fed up and kicked him square in the junk. Apparently that was the greatest moment of Kyle's life. He even treated Stan to dinner for it.
Stan was actually prepared when Wendy broke up with him that time, so instead of degrading into a hopeless pile of heartbreak like last time, he just assured her that they could totally still be friends. Or as friendly as a boy and a girl could be at that age without the expectation of, well, whatever it was that boyfriends and girlfriends actually did.
Stan would never know again.
Now, it's not like Wendy chose for him to be gay just to make herself feel better. That would be stupid, but tell that to eleven year old Stan Marsh who balked at the second question that ruined his life: "Have you ever thought that you're maybe, I dunno. Gay?"
"Fuck no!" said Stan, which was both defensive and a lie. He had encountered many events in his life that would challenge his perceived heterosexuality, and maybe it had crossed his mind that maybe, if he were gay, it wouldn't be a bad thing, because being gay wasn't a bad thing. And yeah, maybe having a boyfriend would be kind of cool. It'd be like having a girlfriend, but instead of doing boring shit like talking and shopping, you could just cuddle with another boy while you played Xbox together.
It was just a nice thought, and nice thoughts didn't make him gay.
But the naughty ones sure did. Those started a little over a year ago, while he was laying in bed and channel hopping. He didn't know what movie, or show, or whatever it was he'd come across, but those two bronze dudes were making out very loudly and clawing at each other's shirts. A sort of strangled gasp squeaked out of Stan's throat, and he lowered the remote. At first he thought he recognized one of the actors, and while he stuck around to see if he was right he couldn't help but be mesmerized. He could practically hear every nerve in his body buzzing with stimulation, his stomach in knots, his face red hot. When he finally noticed that he had a boner, he could hear Wendy in his head asking again and again: "Have you ever thought that you're maybe… Gay? maybe… Gay? … you're… Gay?"
He changed the channel to Terrance and Phillip reruns and tried willing away his boner. Unfortunately he'd remembered that there was some sort of gay scandal between Terrance and Phillip once, so Stan got pissed, turned off the TV, and threw the remote across the room, not wanting to think about gay things. He just laid in the dark, just him, his boner, and the gay thoughts he totally wasn't having.
His denial didn't last long though, because the more he denied it, the more obsessed he became, so he figured if he just saw a whole bunch of gay porn then he would get all of this out of his system and be fine.
You can only awkwardly blow your load over this so many times before it becomes clear that this feeling isn't going away. That those men really are hot. That you're imagining the delicious smell of his scrotum as you bury your nose into his pubes. That scruffy jaws and hairy nipples and big strong arms are fucking wonderful. So big and warm and inviting, like there was really someone so perfect out there to help Stan escape a life whose only constants were stupidity and fuckedness. It was like his secret obsession, drooling and fawning over older men.
Which is exactly what he did last night even.
Not that Randy cared. He didn't care about what made being attracted to men so great, that is, that they're hot and amazing and it just felt right.
No. Stan got to wake up to statistics about gay teen suicides, and about Texas banning gay adoption for the sixth time, because that was Texas and Texas fails. Here in Colorado, Stan was trying to figure out his own sexuality. That is, how he wanted to come out to his friends, how he was looking forward to telling some assholes not to flatter themselves because he was only into older men anyway, wondering whether he needed an adult to confide in. Too bad Chef wasn't alive, but there was always Big Gay Al, or Uncle Jimbo, although Stan didn't want to risk either of them telling his dad. Not that he didn't trust them. It's just that secrets tend to not stay secret around here once even one person knows.
Stan hasn't even told Wendy that she was right, but it seemed like she already decided for herself that he was gay, just to make herself feel better. He didn't know how her self-esteem wound up so low that she felt the need to do that, but he hoped it wasn't because of him.
"… Stan. Are you listening, Stan?"
"Huh? What?" said Stan. He was neither listening, nor did he care.
"Leave him alone, Randy. He just woke up," said Sharon. Stan hadn't even noticed that she was there. "And I thought we agreed that you wouldn't be on your tablet at the dinner table."
"Is it dinner time? Then it's not the dinner table yet. Gawd. Check your privilege."
"I'm leaving. Bye," said Stan, dashing out the door before his parents could begin arguing over something stupid. He'll never let go of the complete and utter fact that those two should have stayed divorced.
He ran to the bus just in time to catch it and was stuck sitting next to Craig, who always smelled like a dirty hamster cage, and he finally had braces. The two of them generally weren't on speaking terms, because Craig was a dick. Token, Jimmy, and Clyde were all right, though. They all still went to school together, which was normal in South Park, whereas in other parts of the country you'd wind up never seeing a lot of the losers you went to elementary school with. Apparently that's why stupid facebook was invented, to connect everyone with everyone whether you gave a damn about them or not.
Stan couldn't say that he gave a damn about Craig, but his dad got him all annoyed and thinking about how gay he was, and he didn't want to think about that outside of masturbation.
So he decided to force a conversation with Craig.
"So. How's, uh, things?" said Stan. This was embarrassing.
"Why are you talking to me?" said Craig. He was such an asshole, but Stan decided to keep talking because he just didn't care today.
"How's your hamster?"
"Guinea pig," Craig said, nostrils flared. He appeared affronted by this honest mistake. "He's a guinea pig."
"OK, how's your guinea pig?"
"Why do you care?"
"Why won't you just answer the fucking question?"
"Because I doubt you actually care. Because you only talk to me if it benefits you in some way, and I don't feel like getting involved in whatever this is."
"Whatever, man," Stan huffed. "You're such a fucking dick. I'm sorry I asked."
"Good. Keep it that way."
The rest of the bus ride was silent and awkward, but at least Stan got a good five minutes of being pissed off at Craig before he was right back to thinking about his real problems. He might have tried to force another conversation just for kicks, but the bus had arrived, and that made no sense.
He didn't speak to anyone again until lunch, when Kyle found him and sat down across from him.
"Hey, dude."
"Sup."
Then crickets. Or actually, just the hustle and bustle of the cafeteria, but it might as well have been crickets, because the silence between them was awkward these days. The two of them had taken to marathoning shows on Netflix, like House of Cards, Orange is the New Black, Breaking Bad, whatever they could find, and lately Stan's fallen far behind Kyle in a lot of their shows. How do you tell your best friend that you're jacking off to gay porn and not watching your shows? He's lied and said he had too much homework, but Kyle had more homework than him and still managed to stay ahead. Kyle must have known something was up by now, but Stan just couldn't say it. He wasn't ready.
"So, what are we doing for your birthday?" Kyle asked.
"Huh?"
"Your birthday, dumbass. We doing anything tomorrow?"
"Oh, uh." Stan had completely forgotten about that. Or, actually, it might have occurred to him last week that he had a birthday coming up, but he didn't care. He didn't like birthdays. He didn't like how fucked up he got right after he turned ten. Birthdays were kinda ruined for him, but he still did cake and shit. He just didn't like making a big deal out of it. "Oh yeah. Mom'll probably get ice cream cake from DQ, but that's about it."
"That's cool," said Kyle. "You wanna do something else? Like marathon some movies, or stand up comedy, or some shit? How about pizza?"
"You've officially given my birthday more thought than I have. Congrats," said Stan. Kyle frowned.
"Dude, what crawled up your ass?"
If only something had, Stan was tempted to say, but instead he bit into his chicken sandwich that tasted like salt and sawdust.
"Whatever. Should I even bother coming over?"
"I don't care," said Stan, which was a lie. He always wanted Kyle to come over on his birthday, if nothing else.
"Hey, boners. You gossiping about your periods, or something?" said Cartman, plopping down beside Kyle with a tray full of food. Kenny sat beside Stan with nothing but a small box of raisins for lunch. Stan offered Kenny his milk and string beans. He wasn't all that hungry anyway.
"Fuck off, fatass. We're just trying to figure out what to do for Stan's birthday tomorrow."
"Nothing," said Stan. "We're doing nothing. Just cake, and then nothing."
"What kind of cake?" said Cartman. Him and Kenny were practically drooling, and Stan would be a real piece of shit if he didn't invite them now.
"Just cake."
"Ice cream cake," said Kyle.
"Sweet," said Cartman, and Kenny whooped for joy. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. He hated his friends so goddamn much.
But not as much as he hated his dad. It didn't occur to him what he was in for until the next day, when he dragged his butt out of bed. Once he'd showered and made himself presentable to the world, he walked downstairs upon his dad watching the news, and the look of pure outrage on his face made Stan want to turn right back around and hide in his room until his next birthday.
He only had to listen to the television for two seconds to know that today was going to be a bad day. "Stealy O'Connor was arrested yesterday for robbing a convenience store at gunpoint. The evidence…"
"GAWD! They can't just arrest a gay man for being who he is. What kind of shitty justice system is this?"
"Randy," said Sharon. "He robbed a convenience store at gunpoint. They caught it on video."
"So? A lot of straight guys do that and get away with it. I bet, if I did that right now, I'd get off scot-free just for being straight. It's my privilege, Sharon."
"It doesn't work that way, Randy."
"Yuh-huh," said Randy, guzzling his gluten free beer indignantly.
"Happy fucking birthday to me," Stan uttered to himself. He walked right past his parents without so much as a good morning grunt, took an apple from the kitchen, and left.
School just seemed to breeze on by. Normally it dragged, but the one day he was OK with the drag, it ended before he knew it. Kyle asked him what time he and the others were expected to show up, and Stan told them 5:30, when what he was really itching to say was never. He had an awful feeling dad would hijack his birthday dinner ranting about the Stealy O'Connor case, because fifteen year old boys have nothing better to do than have the worst of social justice on the Internet shoved down their throats at a birthday party.
Sure enough, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny were barely at the dinner table with their slices of Shakey's Pizza when Randy headed off the dinner discussion.
"So did you boys hear about that bullshit Stealy O'Connor case?"
"Nope, and I don't care," said Cartman, shoving half a slice into his fat face. For once in his life, Stan wanted to hug the shit out of Cartman and thank him.
"Well, you should care, because patriarchy and cishet white men are trying to oppress this country. Gawd!"
"Dad, could you not? Just for one night? Please?" said Stan, knowing it was pointless. He had already lost his appetite. What little pizza he did eat wasn't settling well in his stomach.
"Stanley, this is literally so important. I need to tell you all how to feel about Stealy O'Connor, and to get you all to understand that he did nothing wrong."
"Dad, shut up!" said Shelley, who Randy ignored completely. He went off on his little spiel, and although everyone tried to interject, he just kept going and going. Shelley must have uttered, "I fucking hate you, dad" at least twelve times. Kyle was trying to call him out on his bullshit, to no avail. Cartman tried to change the subject to something else. He even tried interrupting the spiel by ripping a loud fart, but Randy just kept going. Kenny threatened to shoot himself, which no one took seriously despite him having a real gun pointed to his temple. He only put the gun down when Sharon returned to the table with cake.
"WHO WANTS CAKE?" she belted over Randy, silencing him for one glorious moment. Cartman and Kenny were most excited over the prospect of cake, and Stan told her to give them their slices first, because he didn't want any. She seemed to understand, but put a small slice down in front of him in the end anyway. Cartman was ravenous. Kenny was in heaven. Kyle alternated between taking small bites and noticing that Stan wasn't eating.
"So anyway, that's why we all need to go down to town hall after cake and protest," said Randy. "But not until after you all sign my Stealy O'Connor Did Nothing Wrong petition."
"No, dad. We're not doing that," said Stan. "Not a damn one of us."
"You've got that right," said Cartman, who had ice cream all over his face.
"It's sooooo gooood," said Kenny, who'd long since stopped listening. He decided life was worth living at the moment just for cake.
"With all due respect, Mr. Marsh, Stealy O'Connor DID do something wrong. He robbed a convenience store at gunpoint. That's pretty fuckin' wrong, dude."
"Yeah, but if he was straight he would have gotten away with it."
"Oh my god," said Stan, the stupidity just too much for him to handle. He couldn't sit here and listen to this crap anymore. He shoved himself up from his seat, looked his dad dead in the eye, and told him, "Dad, shut the fuck up! You're dumb!"
"Stanly!" Sharon chastised, but he kept going.
"No, mom. He has to hear this, OK? I am sick to death of this fucking do-no-wrong pedestal you keep putting gay people on! Like they're not fucking human beings capable of making mistakes. I'm also tired of you telling me stories about oppression and victims, like I'm not completely aware of that already.
"I mean, shit, why wouldn't I be? I've not only been an advocate for gay rights most of my life, not to mention longer than you have, but they even apply to me!"
The silence was amazing, and everyone was staring at him, but he couldn't stop. Stan took a deep breath and let the last of it out.
"Listen. Listen to your GAY SON when he tells you that you're being FUCKING RETARDED."
"Seriously," said Shelley, and that might have been the first time ever that she's openly agreed with Stan on anything.
"Stan, I can't believe what I'm hearing." Randy got up, and now he was pointing his finger toward Stan. "The R-bomb is an ableist slur, and I will not have that kind of language under my roof. Do you hear me?"
"Ableist slur this, you douche wagon!" Stan flipped him off and left the room. Everyone but Randy flinched when his bedroom door slammed shut. Cartman was the first to recover, and the absolute mirth in his eyes was enough to make you sick.
"Pfft-fftt-ftt, dude. That was totally awesome," said Cartman, and he and Kenny fist-bumped over it. They were so happy that Randy finally shut up. "I'll just help myself to Stan's slice of cake to celebrate."
"Fuck off! His cake is mine," said Kenny, and just like that they were fighting over it.
"That's enough, boys," said Sharon, snatching the cake away before either of them could get to it. "Stan can have it later."
"That nerve of him. Gawd! I try to teach him how to better himself, and improve his problematic ways, and he's literal cishet scum."
"Umm," said Kyle, looking at them all as though they had tentacles growing out of their foreheads. "Did all of you totally miss the part where he said he was gay?"
"Please. Who doesn't know he's gay?" said Kenny.
"Yeah, Kyle. Where the hell have you been?" said Cartman, who still had his eyes on the rest of the cake.
"W-what? Seriously?" Of course Kyle didn't believe Cartman, but what Kenny said bothered him. How the fuck was he supposed to know? Kyle had no idea Stan was gay, because Stan never told him. Stan never hinted toward it. He never seemed to check guys out. He didn't fit into any convenient stereotypes, but even then it's not really definitive proof. What the hell was going on all of a sudden? "Wait a minute. Mr. Marsh, you keep saying he's cishet scum."
"That's because he is, and he's grounded for a month now because of it!"
"But he can't be," said Kyle. "He can't be cisHET scum because he's GAY. He just said so himself."
"… Nuh-uh."
"That is what he said, Randy," said Sharon. "And if you're as supportive of gay people as you say you are, you should march right up those stairs and apologize to him."
"But he dropped the R-bomb, Sharon! He owes mentally disabled people an apology!"
"Dad, you missed the fucking point completely," said Shelley, shoving herself up and away from the table. She stomped toward the other side of the table, grabbed Kyle by the wrist, and headed for the stairs with him stumbling behind. Both were surprised that Sharon didn't attempt to chastise her for her language and disrespect.
"Oww," said Kyle, as Shelley dragged him along all the way up the stairs. "Where are you taking me?"
"You're his boyfriend. You cheer him up."
"I'm not his boyfriend!" said Kyle, once they reached the top of the stairs. "What the hell makes you think that?"
"I dunno. Cuz you turds are all close and shit."
"… Wow." Apparently the concept of best friends was lost on some people.
Then she started pounding on Stan's door. "Open this door right now, or I'll fucking kill you!"
"I don't care. Go away!" said Stan on the other side, and Kyle thought, if Shelley's grip on his wrist were any tighter she'd break it.
"Your boyfriend wants to talk to you!"
"I don't have a boyfriend!" Stan belted back.
"Seriously, I'm not his boyfriend," said Kyle, and regretted it as her grip tightened.
"Whatever. Just get the fuck out here already and talk to this turd."
"Arghh!" Stan stomped toward the door and yanked it open. "Wha-" As soon as it was wide enough Shelley threw Kyle into him and slammed the door behind them.
"Oww," said Kyle, whose head hit Stan right in the sternum. Whose wrist would most certainly bruise in the morning. His pain was soon forgotten once he'd gotten a chance to look up at Stan, and notice that his face and his eyes were all red. He'd been crying.
"You… uh. OK, dude?"
"No," said Stan, who turned around and walked toward his bed. Kyle noticed a duffel bag that was wide open, and an open drawer. Stan took a handful of shirts out of his drawer and tossed them in.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm getting the fuck out of here before I kill my dad." He tossed in his 3DS and some bottles of water.
"Where will you go?"
"Fuck if I know. Under a damn bridge for all I care. I just can't deal with this anymore, Kyle."
"Come on, dude. Don't do that. It could be worse. I mean, at least Mr. Marsh isn't homophobic."
"I'd rather he be homophobic!" said Stan. "That way wishing he'd fuck off would feel more justified. I just…" Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. "I didn't want it to go this way."
"Well, there's nothing you can do about it now," said Kyle. He sat down beside Stan and rubbed his hand along his back. "I'm cool with it, you know?"
"Cool with what? My dad?"
"No, dumbass. With you being gay and all. It's totally cool."
"See, that's what I don't want," said Stan, which confused Kyle. "I don't want it to be cool, or to draw any attention toward me. I just want it to be nothing. And I'm scared that dad's gonna go around town now, bragging about how I'm the greatest thing ever because I'm gay, drawing all sorts of attention I don't want toward me, and I just can't take it. I have to go before that can happen."
"You think your uncle Jimbo will take you in?"
"Maybe," said Stan, sniffling. He reached up to wipe the boogers away with his hand, but Kyle shoved clean tissues from his pocket toward him before he could. For some reason that made Stan laugh.
"You're such a fag, Kyle."
"Heh. Takes one to know one."
"Got me there," said Stan, and he laughed again. Honestly, now that the secret was out he felt kind of nice, too, like an enormous burden was lifted off his shoulders. He realized that he never actually wanted to keep this bottled up inside and maybe if his stupid dad weren't going through one of his weird phases Stan would have come out sooner.
"You feel better now?" said Kyle, his arm back around Stan's shoulder.
"Yeah." Stan let himself be drawn into a hug, and sighed against Kyle's shoulder. "I do."
Before they could pull away from their hug, Cartman and Kenny walked into the room like whatever. Stan hadn't locked his door that time.
"Well, Kenny. Looks like Stan's already infected Kyle with his gay. Better watch your ass."
"Shut the fuck up, Cartman," said Kyle, already bounding toward Cartman in a fit. Stan grabbed him by the arm and told him it was fine. Of course Cartman was going to be a dick about it. It's Cartman, and refreshingly normal.
"We've gotta get going, but we have to give you our presents first," said Kenny, and he pulled a box of raisins out of his pocket. "It's not the best, but Karen needed new clothes, so I'm kinda strapped right now. Sorry, bud."
"Dude, Kenny. It's fine. Thanks." Stan accepted the raisins, and it was all he could do not to make a face. He hated raisins, but he supposed it was better than porn, which is what Kenny usually got him.
"And I've got yours right, oh. Wait for it. Wait for it…" Cartman let rip the most foul and greasy fart that has ever been their misfortune to know. Stan felt nauseous, and if Kyle made a lounge for him again, he wouldn't stop him. "Ah. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."
"You are the worst person I know," said Stan. Kenny was itching to reach for his gun again. They could barely breathe.
"Yeah, well I just sat through your dad talking about all that boring hippie crap that no one cares about, so as far as I'm concerned, you owe me."
"Screw you, fatass."
"Actually, screw YOU guys. I'm going home."
Once Cartman and Kenny were gone, Randy came into Stan's room appearing more calm and rational than he had all night. Even so, Stan was in no mood for him, and Kyle hovered close by in case things got ugly.
"Stan, thank you for coming out to me and your mom. That was very brave of you," said Randy. Stan's glare softened a bit, but he could feel the old burn in his throat making itself known again.
"Just remember that, even though you're gay, you're still a cisgender white male, and therefore have a metric butt-ton of privilege, which you should always check. Someone on this earth always has it worse, so remember to check your privilege constantly, because it's literally so important, OK?"
"Uh, sure. Whatever, dad."
It might have been the worst birthday ever up to that point, but it was one day closer to the day Randy would let this phase go. He always did. In the mean time, the three of them went downstairs, joined Sharon, and watched Orange is the New Black on Netflix together for the rest of the evening while eating tons of cheesy poofs and drinking gluten free beer. It tasted like piss, but eventually Stan forgot all of his troubles, at least for one night.
END