The title is based on Ke$ha's eponymous song

Jesus had seen him when he came in, and there he found him again when he walked out from the church. It was as if he hadn't decided yet whether to come in or not. In that case, he thought that perhaps he could stop for a moment and have a talk with him.

"Hello."

"Oh...Hi, Jesus." Stan mumbled, snapping out of his self-absorption.

"Is there a problem?"

"Well, yeah..."

"That's what I supposed. I haven't seen you here in a while."

"Well, you haven't been in the church for some time either."

"Well, yes, my program is absorbing so much of my time—there I was going now. Do you need something? Did you come here to see me or Father Maxi?"

"Uhm...No...I just came to visit an old friend..."

Jesus understood that Stan had indeed come to that sacred place seeking help. He wished he had time to sit with him and talk about what was eating him, but he didn't have it: he had to be at the studio quick.

"Well, you know my program ends at eight. If you need me, you can meet me at the studio after I am done or in the church. Or in my house, if you want more intimacy."

"Yeah, thanks."

"No problem. Goodbye, my boy."

Stan watched Jesus leave, a bit afflicted about having to leave someone so gloomy alone. However, Stan hadn't come there to ask Jesus what he would have done in his situation. Jesus knew about prosecution and stuff, but not much about broken hearts, he supposed. Same with Father Maxi.

No, there was only one person in the world how could help him, and he was behind the walls of the cemetery.

It felt like entering another realm, an oasis of peace in that crazy little town. They were all there, indifferent to the mayhem of the recent weeks, seeing seasons come and go indifferently, after so many years. There was Pip Pirrup, gone too soon, whose tomb had been left unattended because he left no one in the world to take care of it. Not far from there was Stan's own grandfather—he would go and say hi to him later, when he was done. Some steps away, Ms. Crabtree kept resting in peace and, most of all, silence. Gosh, he could still hear her insane-bitch screams after so many years. And Ms. Choksondik, by her side. Stan slowed down, glancing at the newest tombs. The Stotches had been buried side to side under a tree. Sergeant Yates' was still surrounded by flowers and other presents.

He eventually stopped in front of the one he was looking for. He placed his hands inside of his pockets and hanged his head.

"...Hey, Chef..."

Jerome "Chef" McElroy. Beloved friend.

"Even after...well...You always gave us very good advice, and if I ever needed it, it is now...We got powers...Yeah, like real powers...Superstrenght, speed, eye lasers...Freaky, isn't it? Butter's gone crazy and goes around causing Chaos, unleashing criminals and all. But that's not the problem. The problem is Wendy...No, I mean, she's not the problem, is...How can I put it? Remember Gregory? He's been absent for years, since the whole Mothers Against Canada issue, and now he comes back and...and...He's with Wendy now. They're dating. I'm not being jealous, everyone knows, they are together. With that pompous jerk...But you know what hurts me the most, Chef? That Wendy's so happy—like she got rid of a burden...Of me. The thing is...I did everything possible to make this happen...I had it coming...Then why is this hurting so much?"

Chef remained quiet, insensitive to his call for help. Stan sighed though the nose.

"You knew how to deal with women. I wish you were here. If you think we had too many questions back then, you should see us now...Well, perhaps I am the one who needs help. Whatever I do, I do wrong. I don't even know how I ended up in this situation. I screwed up, Chef. I screwed up really bad and now, now I don't think it has solution. I let Wendy go with Gregory. I fucked up a lot of times in my life but never like this, none of those screw-ups hurt like this. She claims I don't care about her but that's not true. I love her like...you have no idea. She was my first love...I don't think I ever loved a girl like I loved her. All the things I shared with her...Do you know when one doesn't want something to happen and ends up doing something that makes it become true? That stuff ancient Greeks and Shakespeare wrote all the time. Now I see what they meant: it's horrible...Chef...What should I do now? Just...let her go? Give up and accept that she found someone better, who understands her perfectly and always knows what he's doing? Is that what I should do? Or...or what? Do I really have a choice? Reconquer her somehow? Perhaps there's something I can do?"

The wind blowed. Stan took it as a sign that, somewhere beyond human comprehension, Chef was listening. Good old Chef, giving him the advice he needed.

"...Please, tell me there's something I can do..."

"You really think it's official?" Kyle asked, finishing his lemon slush.

"I'm pretty sure, yep. Her status is 'in a relationship' and she's been posting photos of them doing romantic stuff and quotes about second chances, trust and love. That sounds quite official to me." Token replied.

"Oh, man, now I'm gonna have to watch Stan very closely; he's going to drink until he drops dead..."

"If I was Wendy, I would have ditched him too for Gregory." Craif couldn't help scrolling through Wendy's gallery. "I'm happy with Tweek, the blondie's still an asshole and all but, damn, look at that six-pack."

"Well, if she's happy..." Token shrugged, taking a bite to his hot dog.

"Yeah, but Stan's my best friend and he's bottling all of this up..."

"I remember Gregory, rubbing a lot of stuff in everyone's faces. Maybe he changed but...Poor Stan. Now he's got to see him with Wendy..."

"He'll find another gal. He just has to grow some balls and get over it." Craig dismissed the matter.

"I don't think it's that easy. They've been together for so many years, more than a decade. That's a lot. Like you and Tweek. How would you feel if he left you for someone you despise?" Kyle responded.

"I'd leave a shit inside their mail boxes."

"I guess you guys were lucky." Token sighed. "I also thought Nicole would be the mother of my children, but we didn't get beyond eleventh grade."

"But you're fine with Jenny now, right?" Kyle asked.

"Oh, yeah, I love her to pieces...I wish I could tell her about our powers, and take her to places without having to take a plane or the car."

"What about you, Kyle? You're still alone and virgin?" Craig asked.

"Hey! Who told you I was a virgin?"

"Cartman did."

"Don't listen to that fatass. I dated Millie Larsen for a while, before she went to college. And remember Rebecca Cotswolds, the homeschooled? She-"

"Uh...Hey, guys..."

That apparition was sudden, but the group was not scared at all. Towelie was not such an imponent guy, he had never been, not even coming out from a dark alley as he did, with his eyes red and wobbling as if he was walking on a tightrope.

"Ah...Hi, Towelie..." Kyle supposed there was no way to avoid him, he was in the way. "..What's up?"

"Well, I could be better...Mmmmembackhups...Did you boys remember to bring a towel?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Yeah, sure."

"That's good. Uhm, boys..." The towel tottered towards the trio. "We are good friends, right? And good friends help each other out...Can you give me some of your meth?"

"...Our...what?" Kyle asked.

"Your meth. I know you have it. The situation's pretty touch out here. The dealers are too busy getting stabbed by other dealers escaped from jail and kicked by some masked asshole...It's hard getting good shit...Not even six-graders have anything to sell...Come on, friends, gimme some...I'll return the favor..."

"I'm not your friend." Craig drew back when Towelie reached up to him.

"My back hurts, my life is a big bullcrap and I can't count to three...I need a little help to feel just...okay and...Come on, boys. Don't be selfish..."

"Really, Towelie, we don't have meth." Kyle insisted.

"It's true. We don't have anything." Token nodded.

"Don't be mean to me! You have something!" Towelie protested, his placid expression getting sourer, raising a trembling finger to each of them.

"No, really, we wouldn't..."

"Fuck you, dude!" Craig frowned. He was tired of all that nonsense, he had come out that afternoon to have fun, not to be harassed by a towel with drug withdrawal.

"NO, FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! YOU'RE A TOWEL! YOU'RE ALL TOWELS!"

Towelie snapped and he snapped really hard. He crouched to grab an empty beer bottle from the floor, smashed it against the pavement and threatened the three young men with the cutting edge. His teeth were gritted and he was panting.

"I'll just repeat it one more time...Give me the FUCKING METH!"

"Whoa, Towelie, please, we're telling the truth, we don't have any drugs!" Kyle was getting really scared now.

"YOU LIAR!"

Towelie was about to stab Kyle—Craig acted quickly.

With a punch, he prevented the towel from hurting him. But he didn't really want to punch him so hard.

He didn't expect Towelie to fly seven yards, leaving a crack on the pavement.

"..."

"...Oh." that escaped from Craig's lips.

"Craig, what...? You do have superpowers!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Nah, I don't think so. I've been working out."

"Are you kidding? I think you just killed him!"

"Tsssh! Someone's coming!" Token suddenly exclaimed.

They barely had time to react before a person appeared. Unfortunately, it was someone they knew.

"Oh, hey!"

"H-Hi, Mr. Mackey!" Token greeted the newcomer.

They casually positioned themselves, covering the entrance of the alley, the crack on the floor and Towelie lying still, and pretended they were glad to see their old school counsellor.

"It's not very safe to be outside, m'kay. Even with a masked vigilante taking care of the city there's a lot of criminals loose, m'kay."

"Yeah, we had to borrow some DVDs from the library. We were heading to my house." Token lied.

"Ah, that's good, m'kay. Say, how have you been doing? Are you studying or working? I saw your mother at the mall the other day, Kyle, she told me you're working as an administrative for a friend of your father."

"Y-Yes, I do."

"That's nice. Tell her I said hi, m'kay? What about you?"

"I'm...uh..." Token spoke while Kyle discreetly looked behind him. "Studying a Bachelor in Engineering..."

"I always knew you'd go far, I'm glad...Craig?"

"Nah, I didn't study past high school and now I'm a loser who does freelance writing shit." Craig replied, keeping a straight face.

"M'kay...I'm very glad to see old students growing up to become useful members of society. I remember when you were little kids and you come to my office oft-"

"Mr. Mackey, it's nice seeing you again and all but, don't you have places to be?" Craig directly asked.

"...Well, yes, I should be going before my noodles go cold, m'kay...It's been very nice to see you again. Be careful, m'kay?"

"Sure, m'kay." The boys replied.

"M'kay, goodbye, young men."

"Goodbye, Mr. Mackey."

They waited until Mr. Mackey disappeared around a corner to breathe again and run towards Towelie.

He hadn't moved in all this time but he had his eyes open and was blinking.

"Oh, he's not dead, thank goodness..." Token muttered.

"Hm?" Towelie looked at everyone, blinking in a stupid way, but definitely more calm than before. "Ah, hey, Kyle...Hello, Clyde...Ah, no, your name was...I don't know...Connor, or something with an S...And the black guy..."

"Are you feeling better now?" Kyle asked.

"Better? No...Not really. My whole body hurts and my head..."

"Well, at least you're still alive..." Token murmured.

"I'm sorry we had to do that but, really, we don't have any meth to give you." Kyle said.

"Meth? Of course you don't have meth! You always said no when I offered you, since you were sixteen...No, wait...Fifteen? Seventeen? How old are you, anyway?"

"If you knew we didn't do drugs, why did you insist so much?"

"I didn't insist. In fact...I don't know what I'm doing here...Can I go now?"

"Well, I guess, but..." Towelie, muttering something, got up, shook the dirt out of his body and was ready to go, but Kyle stopped him. "Wait. I still don't understand why you..."

"Stop trying. You think this guy knows what he's doing?" Craig told Kyle.

"I only remember this guy coming to the store and telling me...telling me...I don't know what he said to me...He asked me about meth...I said I didn't have it, that we only sold marijuana, and then...Ah, forget it, I don't know what he said then, but his eyes...Ah, yes, those eyes...Those big eyes...That's the only thing I remember..." Towelie muttered.

He had muttered, but the three boys heard it perfectly. They looked at each other.

"...Perhaps...?" Kyle asked.

"Perhaps what?" Craig asked.

"...I have to find Jimbo and Ned."

They didn't notice the shadow that ran on the roofs, the hero who, after being decapitated a few minutes before, now crossed the town as fast as he could, not allowing himself to stop for a second to breath, to reach the City Hall. The words he was getting from his radio hack device were not the ones he wanted to hear.

"Calling all units! Calling all units! There's a shooting inside of the City Hall! Did you hear? We need help out here!"

Oh, God, please, no. Don't let it be too late.