SOUTH PARK BELONGS TO TREY PARKER AND MATT STONE
His team was about to fall against Coon and Friends. In order to protect the valuable info he kept in his phone, Doctor Timothy tried to bolt off. Fastpass, using his incredible speed, ran to stop him. He caught up with him near some public toilets and struggled there. The wheelchair wobbled and the Doctor fell to the ground, not before holding onto Fastpass' crutches so he took him with him. Both rolled on the ground, punching, scratching, biting each other.
"Ouch! S-Shit, Timmy, not sand! That got into m-my eye!" The fight was suddenly interrupted when Fastpass showed real signs of pain.
"Timmy." Timmy apologized, all of his aggressiveness vanishing and giving his friend a hand.
"Nah, I'm fine."
They looked at each other. Dear Lord, they really got invested: both their suits were all stained with dirt and a bit of blood. Their moms would kill them.
"Timmy Timmy Timmy."
"I d-didn't really bite you! No wonder you're the chief of the Freedom Pu-Pu-Pussies..."
"Timmy!"
"Well, let's keep going, sh-shall we? Now it's the time for me to steal your phone."
"Timmy."
"C-Come on, Timmy, you guys c-can't always win!"
Fastpass looked for his crutches. He knew very well that the Doctor wouldn't take the chance to play some dirty trick: he was a pussy but a gentleman. Once he spotted them, he used them as support to stand up. Since his rival was kind enough not to take advantage of his vulnerability, he returned the gesture by helping him get up from the floor. He was seeing he was struggling to hop on the chair once he had managed to put it in the correct position.
"L-Let me help."
"Ah, Timmy." The other thanked him.
A kindness that vanished when he saw that, after securing him in his seat, Jimmy picked something from the ground. With bad manners, he snatched it from him, but Jimmy had already seen it.
The Photoshopped picture he had made some time before, of him...not being him. You know...having a more flattering hairstyle...aligned teeth...functioning legs...
Timmy frowned as he put it back to where it belonged, under the seat.
"Timmy." He tried to get the fight resumed.
Jimmy didn't speak or move immediately.
"...Y-You know, Timmy? There's nothing w-wrong with wishing to be d-different..."
"Timmy." Timmy grunted, and pressed a finger against his temple, preparing a mindfuck. Back to the game.
"I've s-sometimes thought some things w-would be better if I could..."
"Timmy!" Back to the game!
He was getting angry and Jimmy thought perhaps it was his fault for refusing to pretend he hadn't seen what the picture was about. But he just couldn't shut up.
"C-Calm down, Tim-Tim. All I'm saying...Y-You don't need it to be f-freaking awesome, but who k-knows? You can do anything y-you set your m-mind to, man."
That's Eminem's, Timmy babbled. Jimmy was glad to see he was smiling when he said that.
"I-If he's right, he's right." Jimmy shrugged.
"Timmy Timmy Timmy." Which meant: «You're right: keep on trying and one day you'll be funny.»
"Hey!"
Timmy chuckled and before Jimmy knew, he was already fleeing again.
"N-Not fair! Come ba-back here! You're cheating a-again! Gi-Give me that phone!"
Too bad Mysterion showed up to defend his leader with his fists and the Freedom Pals got away with everything.
Two young men sharing airpods and beer, Iron Maiden breaking their eardrums.
"...I h-heard you're going to c-c-c-college..."
Timmy smiled. Jimmy could have sworn it was a distant, forced smile. He didn't take his eyes off the city lights in the distance or stop playing air guitar (or trying, his finger not allowing him to do so).
"I k-knew you could do it, man. Y-You've just shut tons of bi-big mouths who said you w-wouldn't. Where did you get acc-ccepted?"
"Princeton."
"Not bad."
"Nuh-uh."
"...It's...p-pretty far from here."
"..."
"So...I guess this is a g-g-goodbye..."
"...Yeah..."
"Yeah. Right. More of a 's-see you later'."
"Timmy?"
"Me? Pfft! My dad wanted me to go to c-college too, but that's not for me. That's...j-just not for me. I know w-what I want to do in l-life, and t-they don't teach th-these things in college."
"Timmy. Timmy."
"Are you kidding? No, I'm not that good."
"Timmy?"
"O-One thing is p-performing in S-South Park and a d-different one..."
"...Timmy!"
"Hm? Oh, no, come on, we already-"
"Timmy." he insisted.
Jimmy chuckled softly. Well, yes, he could ask their friends the Crips and the Bloods, with whom they still shared some marshmallows and ginger ale in the weekends, if they knew of someone who could give him a chance. They seemed to know a lot of people and were terrifically convincing. People just hated to see no to them. And didn't they always tell them that whatever their problem was, whoever was bothering them, they just needed to give them a call and they would solve everything? Yeah, if they offered themselves, he guessed he could take the chance.
"Well, all right. W-We might as well try. Thanks."
"Timmy." Timmy smiled and opened another can of beer. It was evident that he had no intention of joining the party behind them, in Token's house. Neither did Jimmy. Being with Timmy, the silent Timmy, was a cure after stressful, noisy days.
Jimmy grabbed another beer. They were surrounded by quite a few cans, now that he noticed.
"Timmy."
"Hm?"
"Timmy."
"Ah! So you finally...?" Timmy's grin made him laugh. "N-No way! When? Why didn't you t-tell me, dude? I didn't think you'd..."
"Timmy Tim Timmy." Timmy explained. Oh, yeah, Chef's rule. Not before, nor after: seventeen. Jimmy had forgotten about it.
"So, h-how was it?"
Timmy shrugged.
"Timmy."
"How d-did you...?"
"Timmy!" Timmy was very graphic.
"Hahaha! And...who was she?"
"Annie."
"Oh. Is she good?"
"Yeah!" Timmy enthusiastically nodded.
"That's sweet, man. Find yourself a g-good girl who makes g-good sex to you. You deserve it."
"Timmy."
"I don't know. All the gals I've ever found were fu-f-f-fucking crazy."
"Timmy Timmy Tim."
"Thanks. You know, Tim? I..." Jimmy paused to take a big gulp, "I am k-kind of scared, you know? I mean...S-So many eyes wat-watching, w-waiting for me to f-fail..."
"Timmy!"
"S-Sure I'm i-insecure! I a-always want to give my best s-shot!"
"Timmy! Tim Timmy!" The other smirked. A very bad joke about nothing being right about him.
"Oh! You fucker!" Jimmy tossed the can aside, even if it still had some beer in it, and pounced on him, jokingly trying to push him out of his wheelchair, while Timmy screamed dramatically.
They had a good laugh, they really did. At least before they realized they lost the airpods acting silly.
His back hurt after so much time inclined over his desk, writing. It was time for a little rest.
Timmy left the paper aside and grabbed the phone, which he kept inside of a drawer when he was studying so nothing distracted him. He had a lot of notifications to read.
His parents were mostly sure that Uncle Jordan would be joining them in Thanksgiving. Francis was telling him proudly that she was able to talk on the phone at work without freaking out—sweating, stuttering a bit, but she sure had improved a lot. And Craig sent him a few photos of a party the gang had recently.
One from Jimmy attracted his full attention.
«I have never needed you more in my life.»
An audition. The most important audition in his life. There were apparently some television guys attending. Did Timmy have an idea of what that meant? That meant, a lot of doors could open if he did it right. But the more he thought about it, the less confident he was. All of his jokes seemed like shit to Jimmy. He wanted to deliver the best of the best.
Yeah, his pal was on the edge of a heart attack. Timmy smiled tenderly as he typed.
«We'll go together.»
Good thing he was there. Timmy was starting to think Jimmy needed a doctor, not him. He could see his heart pounding inside of his chest.
"You'll do fine." He babbled.
"You th-think so?" Jimmy barely glanced at him. He looked at the entrance of the theater as if the Hydra was awaiting him inside.
"You've been doing this since you were eight. You've got stage presence enough."
"I don't know...Y-You know what television is l-l-like...people are o-offended by everything. And they w-won't be patient with my s-s-s-st-st-st-ss-ttt-stu-st-"
"What a pussy you are."
"I'm n-not a pussy! All right...Phew! Let's g-go..."
"Break a leg!"
Jimmy was so stiff he was walking kind of like he did break his legs. He stopped at the door to glance back. Timmy smiled at him with his thumbs up.
"Imagine we are alone in there."
Jimmy smiled back at him and got into the theater.
When he found himself alone in the middle of that big stage, in front of those people in suits whose faces he couldn't see, with the spotlights blinding him and making him sweat more than he already was, he felt his stomach was below his feet and wondered who asked him to get into trouble when he had this faithful audience back in Denver and South Park. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. When he opened them, he pictured his friend sitting in those people's places, smiling at him. And he felt so much better.
Timmy waited for very long, until Jimmy came out. Oh, how serious he looked. That couldn't mean anything good. He was even afraid to ask.
But a big grin quickly replaced the frown.
"I'll be on t-t-t-television!" Jimmy announced.
Timmy cheered and clapped as loudly as he could. Jimmy jumped on his leap and Timmy made his wheelchair spin. The whole street was looking at them but what the hell did that matter?
"Y-You've been my lucky charm, T-Tim-Tim! T-Thank you! Let's go c-celebrate this! Y-You choose which restaurant! Order anything you want! A-And if you want to get b-bitches, we get them b-bitches! I'm paying! I love you so much. O-Okay, that sounded gay. F-Forget it. But it's t-true! I love you, man!"
In spite of their busy schedules, Friday nights were sacred to them. Whether it was snowing or raining, they were going to meet to have a lot of drinks together and talk about everything going on in their lives—just relax and enjoy an old friend's company. Jimmy being a celebrity and Timmy a doctor, they both had a lot of steam to let off.
It was amusing for Timmy to wait until Jimmy was done with his program. From the backstage, he could see everything just fine.
"Yeah, she was so h-hairy I-I threw her a bone."
Timmy laughed loudly and clapped the joke along with the audience, and when Jimmy praised it for the last time before the curtain closed.
"Tell me the truth, the Iraqi's joke was a bit fa-farfetched, wasn't it?"
"It had me rolling, pal. You're too hard on yourself."
"I don't know, I still think there was something off with it..." Jimmy shook his head.
Timmy patted his back reassuringly and both made their way to the dressing room. While Jimmy changed his clothes for more comfortable ones, Timmy prepared an appetizer: champagne and a couple of cups.
"Wow, champagne?" Jimmy raised an eyebrow, leaning backwards to look at the drink, his hairy chest bare.
"Yep." Timmy smiled, struggling with the cork.
"Are we ce-ce-celebrating something?"
Timmy looked at him with this smirk. "Kenny getting the Nobel!"
"Heh, t-true that! A toast for good ol' Ken! He sure de-deserves it!" Jimmy said, finally changed.
Timmy was going to hand him his glass when it slipped from his hand and fell on the carpet.
"D-Don't worry, Tim, leave that t-to me."
Jimmy was already doing back-breaking attempts to crouch down when Timmy quickly stood up from his chair to kneel down and get it himself.
Still on one knee, he smiled at Jimmy's astonishment.
"T...Timmy...You..."
Timmy chuckled and stood up, so Jimmy could see that, even though he wobbled a little, he could put up a fight with gravity.
"I also wanted to celebrate that Kenny needed a subject for his experiments and thought of me..."
He chuckled once again when he saw Jimmy getting red and his eyes getting filled with tears.
"Tim-Tim! You can walk! My God, you d-did it! You s-son of a bitch, you d-d-d-did it!"
"Come on, Jimmy, you're going to make me cry!"
It didn't take him long to feel his own eyes watery. Both men held each other's hands and cried and laughed a lot at the same time, almost like they didn't know what to do.
"W-Well, t-time to have all that water w-we've lost r-replentished!" Jimmy sniffed, wiped the tears off his face and filled both cups. "There's no r-reason to cry like someone d-d-died. This isn't s-sad. A whole new life a-awaits you, my friend. C-Come on, let's get our hands on this bottle!" He rose his arm. "For Kenny!"
"Yeah, for Kenny! And for us!" Timmy imitated him.
"T-That's right! I always knew but now e-everyone can see: we're u-unstoppable!"
THE END