Stan had never been to Henrietta's house before. He wasn't sure what to expect, maybe a dark and spooky castle with a graveyard out front. But he double checked the address and it looked like any typical home in South Park.
It was better than laying in bed staring at the ceiling. Stan finally got himself together to put Wendy's photo in a drawer. Maybe he should've just thrown it away, but he wasn't in that stage of his grief yet. Maybe grief was too strong of a word, he still had hope that Wendy would run across the playground and tell one of her friends to tell his friends that they were dating again.
He could only dream.
He took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. He expected a smattering of bats to fly by or the howl of a wolf to greet him at the door, instead it was a pleasant woman in an apron who let him in.
"Hi, Stan." Harriet Biggle said, "I'm so happy my little Henrietta is expanding her friend circle. Her room is just up the stairs and let her know I'm almost done baking some cookies so you kids can have a snack."
"Thanks." Stan said flatly. Henrietta's mom was as sweet as his own, he wondered why Henrietta was always so angry at her. Maybe the sweetness was fake for when they had people over. He shrugged and made his way up the stairs. His hand smoothing out the wrinkles on his Nevermore T-shirt. He got it at the mall, seemed a fitting reference to Edgar Allen Poe's lost love and slowly going insane…at least according to that Simpsons episode Butters showed him. That's how Stan felt- insane. Losing Wendy was eating at him and none of his friends cared. So Stan decided to hang out with the goth kids and wallow in his misery with people who would understand him.
He knocked softly at the door where a sarcastic female voice commanded "Go away, mom!"
"No it's me…ah it's Stan." He called out.
"Oh, come in."
Stan gently opened the door to be met with a cloud of cigarette smoke, making it hazy. He tried to hide his cough as he entered the dim room. At the vanity sat a zaftig girl dressed in black, she was looking at herself in the mirror and applying eyeliner. Her back was to him. Stan felt intimidated and wondered how out of place he would be in here. He spied a pair of yellow eyes in the dim room, a black cat lifted its head from Henrietta's bed. Stan always loved animals and he clicked his tongue to get the cat's attention.
"Here kitty, kitty."
"That's Nyx, my familiar. She's part of the group too." Henrietta said not taking her eyes off the mirror.
"She's pretty cute." Stan makes a move to pet the cat but the creature shrank back and hissed at him before darting under the bed.
Henrietta gave a throaty chuckle before she turned to face him. "It takes a while to prove yourself worthy to her."
"Yeah typical of cats. My ex-girlfriend had a tabby named Charlotte, it took me a long time to get her to let me pet her...sorry I know you don't want to hear that." Stan sighed and took a seat looking over the clutter of Henrietta's room. Makeup, jewelry, half burnt candles, records, books, and a few knives and sharp objects scattered around. All of it interesting with a hint of danger. Anything to shake him out of his heartbroken stupor.
Three slow knocks on Henrietta's door and she finally got up, ignoring Stan as she opened the door to greet Michael, Pete, and Firkle. "You've arrived. Now the witching hour can begin." Henrietta gave the slightest hint of a smirk at her clique.
Michael entered first, or rather his cane entered the room first. His eyes scanning in the darkness and spotting Stan in the back. Michael's eyes narrowed for a second before he took a seat at the foot of Henrietta's bed.
Next was Pete holding a shopping bag. He fipped his bangs out of his eyes as he sank to the floor with a sigh and started scrolling through his phone.
Last was Firkle, he gave Henrietta a quick hug and slinked into her room. He took a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open and closed.
Stan watched with interest from the bed. "Watch it, that thing looks sharp."
"I dare it to cut me." Firkle said, not taking his eyes off the blade. "I welcome it."
"Okay, dude." Stan said as he finally got off the bed and sat in on the circle the goth kids had formed. So far they were pretty quiet, except for heated discussion over who had control over the radio.
"It's my house so I control the music." Henrietta declared as she went through her phone. "We're listening to Siouxsie and the Banshees."
"No way, not that crap." Michael interjected as he connected his phone to the Bluetooth speaker. "I want to listen to the new Avenged Sevenfold album."
"No way, too trendy for both of you. We're going to listen to Jack Off Jill." Pete said as he ditched his shopping bag to look over Henrietta's shoulder at her Spotify playlist.
"All of them suck. You need to listen to some true darkness. Cradle of Filth." Firkle piped up even if his eyes didn't leave the blade he kept playing with.
"Maybe we can make a playlist of everything, you know as a compromise?" Stan asked.
All four heavily made up sets of eyes glared at Stan. "We have to listen to an album start to finish, no cheating." Henrietta said.
"Conformist. Probably just listens to the radio." Michael scoffed as he pushed his phone forward.
Stan narrowed his eyes, the goth kids would rip on him all they wanted. He was used to getting it from his former friends but he was seeking care which wasn't going to come easily. Stan snatched Michael's phone and scrolled his Spotify until the perfect album came up.
"Here, Disintegration by The Cure. Does that fit into what you guys want?" Stan didn't wait before he pressed play and soothing music filled the room before being jarred by the sound of bells.
"The Cure, good taste. I like it." Michael said as the other goths nodded in agreement.
"Well Disintegration is the best album ever." Stan said with some flush to his face as he sat down on the floor again. "So what do we do now?"
"Well he could show off our poems but there wasn't enough time for me to finish" Michael said as he leaned back against the dresser. "Stupid conformist parents were fighting again."
"Tell me about it." Henrietta rolled her eyes. "My bitch mom was trying to make me eat her cooking again. She frys and puts salt on everything then makes comments about my weight, comparing me to my dumbass brother." She pinched her side before she opened up her bedroom window to light a cigarette.
"Good idea." Pete says as he takes out his own pack of cigarettes. He flicked his lighter to light the end of it and then used the flame to light a few candles near him. He finally opened up the shopping bag. Out spilled a few bottles and tubs from the beauty supply store. "My mom said I can't dye my hair in the house anymore, I left pink streaks in the sink. Fucking conformist bitch will want me to wear poloshirts and khakis next, she's messing with my individuality. I can use your bathroom to dye my hair, right Henrietta?"
Henrietta waved a hand as she adjusted the volume louder on the stereo. "Go ahead, any reason to piss off my parents is fine to me." She looked at herself in the mirror as she frowned and finally sat down.
"So what are you going to complain about?" Firkle asks as he follows suit to light a cigarette from a silver lighter on a chain around his neck.
"Me?" Stan asks as he waves a hand in front of his face, trying to not cough from the cigarette smoke filling the room. "Who says I'm going to complain?"
"What he's saying is you've given up your jocky bro code and turned to the dark side. We want to know if you're not just a conformist poser." Michael remarked as he took a drag from his cigarette.
Stan was taken aback, he didn't want such a hostile introduction to this new group. He had an easy time making friends, just a hard time losing girlfriends. "I thought you would understand me, everyone is saying I'm moping around, I figured I would fit in with you. I can go."
Henrietta narrowed her eyes. "No, don't go, that's your first problem. We found each other since we were the outcasts of society. Instead of being sad we bound together to show the conformists we don't care what they think."
Nyx finally came out from under the bed. She sniffed at Stan but when he reached out to pet her, she quickly jumped over to sit at Henrietta's side.
"Seems everyone needs to get used to me." Stan muttered as he sat back. "Just do what you typically do and I'll help however I can."
Michael opened his mouth to call Stan a conformist again, but Pete shook his head. "You can help me dye my hair, the red is lightening to pink which is such a gross color."
"Yeah if you start now you can rinse your hair in the shower, piss off my conformist bitch mom even more." Henrietta scoffed as Nyx moved to her lap to accept getting pets.
Stan stood up, looking at the bag Pete offered to him. "Okay, I'll dye your hair. Just tell me what you want me to do."
"I don't even have to read the directions like some kind of conformist. Just mix everything in the little bowl and when it's ready you can put it in my hair." Pete said as he got up to sit at Henrietta's vanity.
Stan looked over the directions, ripping open a packet and mixing it with a bottle into a little plastic bowl. He held his nose and tried not to cough, the smell of the bleach and the cigarettes was overwhelming the room.
Michael sighed and rolled his eyes as he got up to open a window. He leaned his head out the window taking in the coldness. When he popped his head back in he saw Stan carefully helping Pete brush the bleach into his hair.
"Watch it, don't want to get dye on my shirt." Pete said as Stan rolled his eyes.
"You do it then. I've never done this before." Stan threw the brush back into the bowl and went to sit on Henrietta's bed.
Michael hesitated and then took a seat next to him, leaning on his cane. "We're a group of nonconformists who got together because no one else would accept us, but even between the four of us we each have something that makes us not conform. Me with my Victorian age clothing and canes."
Pete looked up from doing his hair. "Me with my hair dye and playing with touches of color among all my darkness."
Firkle stood up and showed the insides of his coat, lined with various knives. "I love the shine of a pure silver blade to spill the blood of my enemies."
Stan's eyes widened, "You're not going to actually stab anyone are you?"
Henrietta stood up, Nyx still in her arms. "The little one is hardcore goth, surprises even me at times. But we all have something that makes us unique in our group. I have my nice room, my familiar, my makeup."
Nyx hopped down from Henrietta's arms and cautiously approached Stan again. He held out a hand to let the cat sniff him, Nyx's large yellow eyes staring up at him in the dim light. Stan started to smile but Nyx turned her nose up at him and darted under the bed.
Stan let out a groan and layed back on the bed, various items on Henrietta's bed rolling around him. "I don't know if I'm even the same person I was before Wendy broke up with me. Like my whole world shattered. I have nothing left." He covered his eyes as a lighter, journal, cat toys, and a thin metal case slid around him on the bed.
Pete was coloring his hair but paused at Stan's words, watching him through the mirror. Michael's eyes met Henrietta's as they both shifted uncomfortably at Stan's pathetic state. Finally, Firkle got up and climbed onto the bed- not an easy task since he was so tiny. He sat at Stan's head and watched him for a moment.
A small smile curled onto Firkle's lips before he took his pocket knife and swiped it down, the tip stabbing into Henrietta's comforter and just mere centimeters from Stan's face.
It worked. Stan snapped out of wallowing in self pity and looked up at Firkle, wiping his eyes.
"How does it feel to be so close to the edge?" Firkle said, an attempt to make his tiny voice lower and darker.
"The edge?" Stan scoffed. "I guess since Wendy broke up with me I don't have an edge, I'm just a mess of dark thoughts and pain. So much pain. Everything is so dark for me and I'll never be the same."
"That's what we like to hear. Maybe there's hope for you after all." Henrietta said as she took a seat next to Stan.
"What do you mean?" Stan asked as he sat up and picked up Firkle's knife to hand back to him.
Pete looked up from putting dye in his hair. "You don't need to fight the darkness, you embrace it and let others know you're not afraid to be your goth self."
"My goth self? What could that be?" Stan sat up and looked at himself in the mirror on Henrietta's dresser.
Michael tapped his cane on the floor. "It can be whatever darkness you want to show to the world, to not give a fuck about whatever the conformists think."
Stan narrowed his eyes as he looked himself over. "Yeah I can show that to the world, whatever that darkness is. What makes me unique."
"Don't go all after school special on us, those are for conformists." Pete said as he looked at his hair in the mirror. "Gonna go wash this out, be right back."
Henrietta went to go help Pete rinse his hair and Stan got up to go sit at the vanity. It felt weird to be here, he wanted the goth kids to like him, he wanted his old friends to show some empathy in his situation, he wanted Wendy to change her mind and take him back. He hung his head in shame at what a loser he was.
There was a knock at the door, as Henrietta's mom entered with a tray of cookies and milk. "Henrietta! I have some fresh baked snacks for you and your little friends." She placed the tray down and Stan looked to his new friends if it was okay to grab one.
Mrs. Biggle caught sight of Henrietta helping Pete rinse his hair in the bathroom and hurried over. "Henrietta this bathroom is absolutely crimson in here, what are you doing?"
"Go away mom, this isn't about you!" Henrietta yelled back as a screaming match erupted between mother and daughter.
"Oh shit, we gotta help her." Michael got up to help defend Henrietta as Firkle ran under Henrietta's mom's legs and into the bathroom to help.
"Stop freaking out mom, I'm just helping Pete dye his hair!" Henrietta screamed at her mom as she tried to close the door in her face.
Henrietta's mom opened up the bathroom cabinet to grab a spray bottle and roll of paper towels to clean up the mess. "My goodness, Henrietta. I just cleaned this bathroom and you go and make a big mess."
"You care more about the stupid tile than you care about me!" Henrietta screamed at her mom as she was lead out of the bathroom by her friends and back to the sanctuary of her bedroom.
Henrietta slammed her door shut with all the other goth kids safely in. She huffed a few times before grabbing a cookie and throwing it across the room. She grabbed a coffin shaped pillow and screamed into that as well. The rest of the goth kids stood absolutely still, ready to help Henrietta at a moment's notice.
"That bitch, fucking bitch. I hate my mom." Henrietta grumbled as she headed over to the stereo to change it to August Burns Red, the heavy music as full as many screams as Henrietta had.
Michael finally went up to put a hand on Henrietta's trembling shoulder. "Fuck her, she's a conformist and doesn't even know what real friendship is. Just as bad as my mom and dad."
Pete was fixing his hair in the mirror but turned around to give Henrietta a quick hug. "You know I never smile, unless it's fake. But you do way more to make my smiles not so fake."
"Want me to kill her?" Firkle piped up.
"Oh you guys." Henrietta wiped her eyes as she returned the hug. "Happy to have you to wallow in the darkness with me."
The goth kids looked up at Stan, the air in the room grew uncomfortable for their outsider catching a tender and not so dark moment.
Stan sat numbly on the bed, a small meow as Nyx poked her head out from under the covers as the mood of the room calmed down with the music around them.
The goth kids really cared for each other, their own little family unit. It pained Stan that all his friends turned their backs on him in his time of need. That the breakup with Wendy fueled his dark side. Maybe it was always there, he was known as the soft one, the pussy because he was in love with her. Now she was gone he was unsure what he had left.
Sadness, he was just a bundle of sadness and it felt hollow he wasn't even getting along with the goth kids at this point. Stan looked over the clutter on Henrietta's bed. A slim silver case with vines and roses engraved on it. He waited to let the group settle before he spoke up again.
"What's in here?" Stan held out the case.
A sly smile spread over Firkle's lips. "It's a piercing kit."
Stan's curiosity was piqued, he slid the case open to take a look. A pair of long forceps with an open tip and sharp needles of various thickness. He shivered slightly as he held out the kit to the circle. "I thought you got piercings from a gun." At least that's what Wendy had told him once, another stab in his heart.
Henrietta chuckled. "Piercing guns are for amateurs. You can get pierced at the mall with a gun, but it'll fuck up your ear and can make it crooked."
Pete flicked his newly dyed hair out of his eyes. "Yeah I don't want to get pierced in a pink fairyland by some conformist next to the hello kitty crap. These needles are the real deal. Professional."
Stan looked down at the needles and clamp in his hands. "What's the difference?"
"Duh, when you pierce with a needle it doesn't hurt your ear as much, heals quicker, and more hygienic." Michael said as he lit another cigarette.
"But sometimes the extra pain is good." Firkle piped up. "Would be fun to stab someone."
"So have you used it? I've never thought to get jabbed for the fun of it, I hate getting shots." Stan shivered as he sat in the circle with the other goth kids. "Have you used it? Any piercings?"
"I wanted to do my nose, but my stupid bitch mom stopped me." Henrietta grumbled as she went through her phone to change the music, settling on The Misfits before she continued. "Problem is I know how to pierce, I have the supplies and jewelry but can't do it on myself. I need more practice."
Michael turned his head to show off a little gold earring. "I was the first one to let Henrietta pierce my flesh. Still it wasn't as painful as my life."
"Whoa, dude. You let Henrietta pierce you?" Stan was slightly taken aback, he hated getting shots at the doctor and never considered getting poked for cosmetic reasons. But he was intrigued.
Pete swept back his hair to show a little purple hoop on the top of his ear. "Had to get something different, not to conform to the rest. But Henrietta did a good job."
Stan set the case in the middle of the circle. "So you all got piercings from Henrietta?"
"Not me." Spoke up Firkle. "I won't let anyone stab me, I'll stab them first." He flipped his pocket knife around as Henrietta let out a little laugh.
The rest of the goth kids stared at their leader in shock, but Stan couldn't help himself and laughed back, starting to feel at ease among this new group.
Henrietta took a deep breath and smiled at Firkle. "We wouldn't have it any other way since you're not conforming."
Stan bit his lip, looking over the piercings Michael and Pete had. Maybe it would be something he was interested in. "Would you want to pierce me?" Stan finally asked.
Henrietta silently got up and reached for a carved wooden box from her vanity. She passed it over to Stan. He looked at her curiously as he lifted the lid to take a peek.
Lots of metal pieces filled nearly to the top, a rainbow of colors against the black velvet lining the inside of the box. "What are these?" Stan asked.
"Body jewelry, I've been collecting stuff when I think it's cool. From little shops or online." Henrietta said as Stan pawed through the jewelry.
He wasn't sure if a color would suit him if his color palette was blacks and grays these days, much like his life. Something caught his eye and he pulled out a little dangly cross and held it up. "This is cool, I think I'll take this."
"Okay, let me set it up and have a seat." Henrietta said as Pete moved away from the mirror as Michael helped Stan over to the vanity and made him take a seat.
Stan felt his heart race as he watched Henrietta leave the room to go wash her hands, Firkle following her. Michael started to clean up the top of the vanity and Pete set out the jewelry and needles on top of a clean cloth.
"Don't pussy out like some conformist." Michael said as he put some of Henrietta's makeup into a little box.
"I won't. I want to see how I'll look." Stan held the little silver cross to his right ear as he looked at himself in the mirror. He felt low and depressed on the inside, maybe it would help if he changed his outside appearance. A cool new facade to show to the world he would never let anyone hurt him ever again. He might not believe it but he could look like it.
Henrietta entered the room again and Stan sat straight up, anxiety hitting him like a punch to the gut. He dared not move as he watched her grab some nitrile gloves from a box Firkle was holding, black of course, and look over the tools before him.
Henrietta's face appeared behind him in the mirror. "Ready?" She asked as the other goth kids appeared around him to watch.
"Yes." Stan said in a tiny voice.
Henrietta's smile turned into a smirk as she put the gloves on and reached for her piercing supplies. Stan kept his eyes on her hands, feeling his heart race and stomach turn. He did not want to throw up, or worse, pass out in front of the goth kids.
"Okay, I'm going to clamp your ear and then pierce it on the count of three. Don't move, wouldn't want my needle to slip." Henrietta said with a dark chuckle.
Stan didn't respond, just gazed in the mirror with his eyes transfixed on Henrietta's hands. What had he gotten himself into? He felt the clamp go onto his ear as Henrietta put the needle into position.
He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of his shirt as Henrietta counted down.
"One…two…" Henrietta put the needle through and Stan bit his lip, taking in a sharp breath.
Then nothing. It was over. He was pierced. He opened his eyes as Henrietta took the needle out and put the cross earring in. "What do you think?"
"You didn't pierce on three like you said." Stan looked at his reflection in the mirror. The little cross earring shined as it hung off his ear. "Whoa, dude."
"You're welcome." Henrietta said as she gathered up her supplies to clean them. "You look like the older brother from The Lost Boys."
"Huh? You think so?" Stan leaned into the mirror to get a better look at himself. He had endured heartbreak and now let some goth chick punch a hole in his earlobe. He felt...numb. But numbness was nice, it was a step about the hellish sadness he felt before.
"Is that a smile I see?" Michael snarked as he ashed out his cigarette.
"Total conformist." Pete quipped as he finished styling his hair. "Okay, pretty boy, it's your turn."
Stan's smile disappeared as he looked at the two goth boys behind him. "What do you want me to do now?" He still admired the little cross in his ear. Everyone from his old life would be shocked he actually went through with it.
"You can't just wear all black and call yourself a goth kid." Michael said as he fiddled with the radio once again.
Stan rolled his eyes, what else could they pick apart about his appearance? "What now?" He asked.
Pete grabbed the poofball off Stan's hat and pulled it off to expose the shock of black hair. "Color is right, but we're going to fix it to look more goth."
A spray of hairspray and some quick magic with Pete's comb and Stan found himself putting his hat back on over some thick side swept bangs. "I hate to admit it, but you're right- I look much better this way." Stan admired himself in the mirror.
"One final touch." Michael leaned forward and grabbed an eyeliner pen off Henrietta's dresser.
Stan pulled back instinctively but Firkle flipped his switchblade and held it at his face. "Don't move and let him work."
Stan's eyes widened but he cooperated as Michael pulled his lower eyelid down and gave a smudge of black underneath. As All four of the goth kids stepped back, Stan was stunned at his reflection.
He slipped his black and gray poofball hat over his bangs, the black rimmed his eyes making the blue irises pop. His clothes were a little disheveled and his black converse scuffed up. The new silver cross in his ear was a shining beacon against all the black. It was one of the worst times in his life, but he looked good. He looked damn good.
"Wow, thank you guys."
Micheal looked away, Henrietta smirked but Pete rolled his eyes. "Well duh we'll help you look like a non conformist. Don't want you to look like everyone else."
Stan looked down as Nyx appeared from under the bed, going up to Stan to sniff him and rub herself against his ankle in approval. Stan smiled as he bent down to pet the void kitty.
"Well now we need to go out to put your new look to the test." Henrietta said.
Stan looked up from petting the kitty. "Where do you want to go? The graveyard?"
"No, Denny's." Henrietta said. "Come on, we'll introduce you to coffee."
Stan bid Nyx goodbye and got ready with the other goth kids to head out in his new goth persona. He looked at his new friends, a bit sad for his old life. But being sad was part of the goth life. Wendy had deeply wounded him but so had his old friends, not caring about his pain. Here the pain in his heart was now reflected in his fashion choices. He had no idea how Wendy, Kyle, or anyone else would react to him. But he didn't care, they obviously didn't care about him.
Stan followed the other goth kids out of Henrietta's room, just like the good non conformist he was.