Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.

Wendy gazed around at the amazing atmosphere which surrounded her as her eyes twinkled with amazement.

The young girl was sitting at an outdoor table of an Italian restaurant which had recently opened in South Park. Being seated outside meant she was getting to dine underneath the night sky. A look of awe filled her face as she peered up towards the full moon. It was looming above South Park, joined by countless shimmering stars.

Wendy was very happy. She felt very blessed to be taken to such an incredible place for her dinner. She directed the soft smile on her face to the one who was at the table with her, having taken her there that evening.

"Oh, Stan…" Wendy whispered. "I can't thank you enough for booking this table for the two of us. It was a real surprise when you told me earlier that you were taking me out for dinner."

"You don't need to thank me, Wendy," Stan said earnestly. "You're my girlfriend. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Wendy's cheeks turned pink. Her heart was overflowing with all the happiness she felt to have Stan in her life. There was no one at all like him in all the world. She couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend.

"Well…" Wendy pointed to the two plates of spaghetti and meatballs that were placed in front of them on the table. "Shall we eat our dinner?"

"That's what we're here for…" Stan laughed. He lifted a string of spaghetti with his fork, placing the tip of it into his lips before beginning to slurp it into her mouth.

Wendy giggled, shaking her head at what her boyfriend was doing - before doing the same as she started to suck a piece of spaghetti on her own plate through her lips.

What the young couple didn't realise was that they were eating the same piece of spaghetti. They didn't notice it stretching from one plate to the other as they both sucked it from each end. The more of it they ate, the closer their faces neared to each other. Inch by inch, the gap with only a single spaghetti string was getting shorter. Any second now and the lips of the young couple would touch each other. They were on course to mark their romantic dinner with a kiss…

"Bluuuuurrrrrggggghhhhh!" Stan vomited violently before their lips could connect. Showers of puke erupted from his mouth like lava from a volcano. The young boy spewed all over the table, all over the food - and all over his girlfriend.

"Eww!" Disgusted as ever over what her boyfriend did whenever they went to kiss, Wendy stood up from the table and irritably stormed off. "That's gross, Stan! I'm not eating with you!"

Wendy marched away from the restaurant, annoyed at having her romantic meal under the stars ruined. She left Stan behind at the table he'd booked and the meals he'd ordered for the two of them - which were now covered in his own barf.

"Wait, Wendy!" Stan quickly rose to his feet, chasing after her. "Come back! We can't end our date like this!"

No sooner had Stan left the restaurant, somebody else walked by - before coming to a stop when he noticed the deserted which the couple had been at. he walked over to look at the two plates of spaghetti and meatballs - both of which were smothered in puke.

"Kewl!"

Licking his lips hungrily, Cartman began to shove the abandoned food into his mouth. He didn't seem to realise that it was contaminated with vomit. He stuffed every bit of it through his lips, his cheeks bulging out as he munched away happily.

"Sweet!" Cartman exclaimed happily.

At that moment, the doors to the restaurant opened. A waiter in a smart suit made his way over to Cartman. He smiled when he saw the boy had polished off every bit of the meals - failing to realise it was not who he'd served them to earlier. The fact he didn't pick up the aroma of puke at the table was a clear sign of his stupidity.

"How was your meal, sir?" asked the waiter, speaking in an Italian accent.

Cartman slurred and rubbed his full stomach. "Kick ass!"

"I'm glad to hear!" The waiter beamed as he produced a roll of paper. "Here is your bill, sir!"

"What?!" Cartman's eyes widened when he heard he was supposed to pay for the food he'd helped himself to. "No way! I don't wanna pay! I didn't book a table here!"

The waiter laughed heartily. "Oh you Americans are good jokers. I think you'll find the price for your meal is very reasonable. You'll even have enough to leave a tip."

"Screw that!" Cartman's eyes narrowed as he looked at the total price written at the bottom of the bill. "What dumbass would pay so much money to eat here?"

"You chose to eat here, sir," the waiter said, losing patience. "You must have that money on you, don't you?"

"No I don't!" Cartman burst out. "I'm just a kid! I don't carry that much money! And if I did, I wouldn't waste it at a crap house like this!"

"What?!" The waiter exploded, angered and insulted by the overweight kid's rude words. "Are you serious? You came here to eat our food - with no intention of paying?!"

"That's right!" Cartman affirmed, flipping the man off.

"Very well! You can spend the evening washing up the dishes from all our customer's meals!"

"No way!" Cartman shook his head. "I can't do all your dishes, I'm just a little boy!"

"I don't care!" thundered the waiter. "Get your fat ass in the kitchen right now and get to work!"

"Aww, Goddamnit!"

Cartman groaned. He was far from happy over the free labour he was being forced to carry out. He didn't see why he had to do it since as far as he was concerned, he had never been a customer at the restaurant. He prepared to make he way into the building to start his work in the kitchen - but not without casting a subtle sinister look towards the waiter.

"Just you be careful that I don't serve you a dish here, asshole…" Cartman murmured. "I'll make you eat your parents…"

THE END