Abnormally Average

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Detectivesandyvagina
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Joined: Wed May 20, 2009 10:16 am

Abnormally Average

Postby Detectivesandyvagina » Sun Jul 25, 2010 6:31 pm

It was a typical Friday afternoon, the recess after lunch. Nine year old Stan Marsh was heading into the boys bathroom, taking a break from yet another football game on the playground. He noted a piece of paper attached to the wall and after finishing his business went in for a closer look. The first thing he noticed was the stupid paper was held against the wall by chewed up bubble gum- gross! The second thing he noticed is that it's another stupid list. The third thing he noticed was it's his name at the bottom of this new list. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm at the bottom of 'Most Exciting'? Really? That stupid council is really reaching nowadays, aren't they?"

Stan's voice echoed in the empty bathroom. Well, he would prevent anyone dying, anyone getting arrested or anyone trying to burn down the school this time. Stan grabbed a paper towel in his hand and gingerly unstuck the piece of paper from the wall. He wasn't as grossed out by bodily fluids as Kyle was but still it was gross. Stan ripped the page in half, and then again and again until it was in tiny little pieces. He tossed the sticky pieces into the toilet. He would have pissed on them if he'd seen the page earlier. He wouldn't flip out or do anything rash, just talk to Wendy. She was a girl, she was on his side, and she would know. He definitely wouldn't speak of this to any of his guy-friends. He didn't want to start any disasters that could easily be prevented.
The playground was usually divided during the half hour recess. The boys had taken the empty field, which had been covered with the snow from last night. Now, the field was tracked with muddy foot prints as the boys played football. Stan ignored his friends calling him back and headed closer to the school to the playground equipment, to that old merry go round.

The Girls Territory.

Bebe, Red and the lovely Miss Wendy Testaburger were gathered on the merry go round. Red was going on about some problems at home. Wendy sympathetically patted her on the shoulder as Bebe looked on, shoving stick after stick of gum into her mouth. Stan approached the girls as casually as he could. Sure, all girls were insane, except for Wendy, of course. But he still had to make a good impression on her friends.

"Wendy, could I talk to you? Just for a minute."

"Sure, Stan."

Wendy broke away from her clique and took her boyfriend's hand. She squeezed his gloved hand in her own and a warm feeling filled Stan as he tried to hold back his gag reflex. He took a deep breath, still trying to look cool in front of Wendy.

"Wendy?"

"Yes, Stan?"

She smiled at him. That one smile from her and his stomach turned. God, what was wrong with him? Stan tried to swallow back his nausea.

"Another list was stuck to the boy's bathroom wall."

"The wall of the boy's bathroom? How did it get there? And what did it say this time?"

"Most exciting boy in the class? What is that even supposed to mean? I was on the bottom, by the way."

Wendy stifled a laugh. "So, you're the least exciting boy in class? Oh boy, Bebe is really running out of ideas for Girls Council."

"How can you laugh at this Wendy?"

"And how can you get upset at this Stan? This is why the boys aren't allowed to see the list. It made everyone go psycho last time. I don't want you to go psycho over it, you can be better than that!"

"I'm not going to burn down the school Wendy, if that's what you're thinking. But still it's a bad feeling. Even Cartman is ahead of me on that list."

"Well, that's the thing about Cartman. He's fat, racist, misogynistic and sociopathic. All bad qualities but I guess that still makes him interesting. Now I'm curious, who is number one?"

"…Clyde."

Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she picked up from Stan. "See? This is why I left the girl's council. The lists seem to be horribly corrupted these days."

"You're not a part of them anymore, Wendy?"

"I left ages ago Stan, and honestly if I had any part of making this list you would of ranked a lot higher. I wouldn't worry about it."

Stan smiled. "Really, Wendy?"

"Really, Stan."

Wendy smiled in that certain way and his stomach twisted violently. Stan could always try to be cool in front of her but when she smiled it shook him to the core. Wendy noticed him blushing and did something she wanted to try for a while. Something she saw on TV all the time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went in for a stereotypical smooch. But this was not some movie star Wendy was about to kiss, this was Stan Marsh. So, needless to say, the typical reaction happened.

"Bleeeeach!"

Wendy blinked and pulled back, her hair and clothes covered in what they had for lunch not even half an hour ago.

Stan wiped his mouth. "Sorry, Wendy."

"No, no, it's my fault. I should know not to get to close to you. You still can't handle it at times. I need a change of clothes RIGHT NOW!"

"Wendy! I said I was sorry!"

Wendy rolled her eyes and stomped across the playground, sticky and starting to smell like rancid cheese. She had to talk to a responsible adult about getting a change of clothes. But a responsible adult would be hard to find right now, Mr. Garrison had playground duty today.

Herbert Garrison cursed Friday lunch recess. He could care less if the children killed each other while out on the playground, less kids to deal with in the classroom he thought. But every Friday this was his post. The happy screams of the children only made his bad mood worse. Christ, he wished he could smoke while on playground duty. A smoke and a drink would be good right about now. Mr. Garrison checked his watch, only ten minutes of this hell outside and then back to the hell inside, but at least he wouldn't be so cold. Also he could sneak a shot from the bottle under his desk right before afternoon lessons started. He was so focused on getting to the hidden bottle of Jack he didn't notice Wendy coming up to him, covered in vomit.

"Mr. Garrison? Mr. Garrison? MR. GARRISON!"

"What!"

Wendy held out her arms. "Look at me!"

"I don't think green and brown are your colors,

Wendy. You should stick to purple."

"I need a change of clothes, Mr. Garrison!"

"Did you puke on yourself, Wendy?"

"No, Stan did!"

"Then both of you should go to the nurse's office."

"He didn't throw up on me because he was sick."

"I don't care Wendy. It's school policy." Mr. Garrison shouted from across the playground. "Stan? Stanley Marsh to the nurse's office immediately!"
Stan had just barely gotten back into the football game when he heard his name being called.

"That's a new one, Stan…being called to the nurse's office instead of the principal's or counselor's office!" Kenny mumbled.

"Awh, just when this game was getting good!" Stan cupped his hands around his mouth and shouts back to Mr. Garrison. "I'M NOT SICK MR. GARRISON!"

"STANLEY MARSH, YOU GO TO THE NURSES OFFICE RIGHT NOW OR I'LL SEND YOU TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE AND MAKE SURE YOU HAVE NO RECESS FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS!"

"Aw, awww! Five minutes, guys."

Stan jogged across the playground in a show to Mr. Garrison that he was fine, leaving Kyle standing next to Kenny.

"Better him than me, Kenny. Nurse Gollum still freaks me out dude."

Stan came up to Mr. Garrison and an increasingly pissed off Wendy. "Mr. Garrison, I'm fine!"

"No whining, come on Stanley!"

Mr. Garrison grabbed Stan by the jacket and dragged him into the building, Wendy trailing behind. Mr. Garrison would have grabbed Wendy to move her along quicker, but he didn't want to touch her vomit covered jacket.

Nurse Gollum was a perfectly nice lady even if the giant fetus attached to her head held her back from getting close to anyone. She sat behind her desk
"doing paperwork" aka checking her Facebook. She jumped up immediately, shutting her laptop when the three entered.

"Oh my goodness what happened here?"

"One of these little basta- eh children threw up on the other."

Wendy stood, disgusted, with her arms crossed. Stan lagged behind, trying to avoid the embarrassing situation. Nurse Gollum, being used to puke and gross stuff, took Wendy by the shoulder without hesitation.

"Come with me dear, we'll find you a change of clothes at the front office. You, young man, go lay down and I'll be back to take your temperature and call your parents."

"But I'm fine, Miss! Really, I am!"

"I think you should stay with him, Mr. Garrison. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Nurse Gollum, I think Stan is perfectly okay watching himself, I have better things to do."

"Mr. Garrison we have to be supportive role models as well as authority figures for our students, now if you don't mind."

Nurse Gollum took Wendy by the hand and led her out of the office. Mr. Garrison sighed and plopped down behind the nurse's desk. The bottle under his desk would have to wait. Stan still stood in the doorway, trying not to be noticed.

"Lay down, Stanley."

"But I keep telling you I'm fine!"

"Oh for the love of god, just lay down! Authority figures, my ass!"

Stan, defeated, sighed and walked over to the little cot. He sat at the edge, and eventually laid his head down, pulling his knees to his chest. Stan didn't feel sick but he still felt bad.

Mr. Garrison had opened Nurse Gollum's laptop with some curiosity and was looking for something interesting and possibly erotically stimulating on the thing. The only thing so far was a picture on Nurse Gollum's Facebook of her in a low cut blouse. He was half trying to decide if the School Nurse would be hotter if he blocked out the dead fetus in her pictures or was she more attractive because of the dead fetus. He was questioning himself and the freaky stuff he was into when he looked over at Stan looking miserable on the cot. Ah, well Nurse Gollum didn't have that great of a rack but she had told him to be supportive of their students.

"What's wrong Stanley? I know I'm your teacher, you can come to me with any problems you may have."

The stupid list and the fact he could never do anything right for Wendy were running through Stan's head. He looked over at his teacher. Stan didn't trust any adults except for Chef and right now he missed poor Chef. He could try a question meant for Chef on Garrison and see how badly his teacher would screw it up.

Stan sat up and propped himself up on one elbow.

"Mr. Garrison, can I ask you a question? In my group of friends what makes me stand out among them?"

"I don't know Stanley, all the kids in my class all kind of blend together. I mean, you all are special in your own way. I guess. That's what you're supposed to say in these situations, right?" Mr. Garrison turned his back to Stan and tried to focus more on Nurse Gollum's friend list.

"My friend Kenny is brave and knowledgeable about sex, my best friend Kyle is smart and honorable and full of this anger against Cartman, who has done the worst possible things. Yet still, Cartman can get away with it and is probably my second closest friend…but don't let Kyle hear that. But in the group of four where do I stand out? I'm too selfish to be as moral as Kyle but still care too much to be as heartless as Cartman. My own mouth keeps getting me into trouble. When can I stand out on my own and not have some bullsh*t f*ck it up?"

"What about that girl?"

"Huh?"

"Your little girlfriend Wendy? The one you just puked on and humiliated on the playground? Don't you have her?"

Stan could almost crack a smile at that. "Yeah, I guess I have her."

"Of course, you probably just let that fly out the window. Remember the Christmas play? I made you little friend Kyle be Joseph and Wendy be Mary? I knew you were the one dying for that part but you could never get it together to be that close to her, I didn't want you to mess up my play."

"Blame me for ruining the play Mr. Garrison? I think the townspeople did a good job on their own ruining Christmas last year."

"No backtalk Stanley, I'm trying to help you."

Stan's smiled faded a bit as he thought. "What about me and my sports? They always put me ahead in all the teams I try out for. I was quarterback in football, pitcher in baseball and star striker in soccer. That has to count for something. Right, Mr. Garrison?"

"Sure with that you'll have a fine time in school always succeeding in school and your own cockiness will get the best of you and you'll blow another big game and probably suffer some horrific injury in your teens ruining any chances of making a career out of it."

Stan placed his head back on the cot, ego wounded, confidence defeated. God, what was wrong with everyone employed at this school? He shut his eyes and a few minutes later, was gently shaken awake by Nurse Gollum.

"Stanley, your father is here to pick you up."

"Where's Wendy?"

"She's perfectly fine and back on the playground dear."

"Stan, Staaaan? Are you okay son?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine."

Randy Marsh got in close to see his son, Stan could smell the alcohol on his breath but didn't want to speak up, the last thing he needed was his dad arrested on top of an already sh*tty day.

"Put your coat and hat on and let's go, kiddo."

Stan sat up, looking confused. "Dad..?"

"What, Stanley?"

"I never take off my hat or jacket. Well most of the time."

"Oh right, right, let's go." Randy pointed to Nurse Gollum. "And be happy we don't choose to sue the school over making my boy sick!"

"Dad, Jesus Christ, I'm not that bad!"

Randy took the collar of Stan's jacket and pulled him out on the playground out into the parking lot. Stan could see Wendy, her hands over her face with Bebe and Red consoling her.

"I'm sorry, Wendy!" Stan yelled across the playground.

Wendy looked up at him, left hand raised in the air, giving him the finger. He could see from across the playground what the school gave her to wear. An ugly knitted together sweater colored a shocking pink, a huge Christmas tree across the front was now Wendy's 'outfit'.

Stan's face turned the color of his girlfriend's sweater as he got into his dad's truck. Randy got in on the other side and slammed the door shut. Stan lost in thought jumped a bit as his dad started up his truck.

"Goddamn, I'm glad to be out of there with that freaky school nurse breathing down my neck. I don't see how you kids can do it, being in school all day like that. "

Stan stared straight ahead, ignoring his father. He considered talking to his dad on what was on his mind but it was fairly clear that the last person he could go to for good advice was his own father. He was just as screwed up in the head as every other adult in this town. He'd just hold off any real questions about his personality until school let out and Kyle could come over.

Randy looked over and placed his hand on his son's shoulder, the car slightly swerving to the left. Stan's head jerked up again.

"Dad, watch it!"

"What's wrong son? You look depressed."

"Nothing! Just watch the road!"

Randy gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

"Are you sure, Stan? You can tell me anything."
Stan didn't respond, hoping it'd be enough to deter him from asking any more stupid questions.

"Well I'm glad we can spend some quality time together. Your mother wanted me to do some yard work and now you can help me."

Hell, he was already out of school, but without a decent chance to apologize to Wendy. He might as well milk it.

"I think maybe I might still be too sick for any chores dad. I think I'll just be up in my room."

Randy pulled the truck into the Marsh family driveway.

"Alright, Stan. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, Dad just a little sick. I should lie down."

"Then, can you do me a favor?"
Stan had his hand on the door handle. The sanctuary of his room. So close. Dammit.

"Yeah, dad…?"

"You should check your email Stan. I forwarded a ton of important emails to you."

"I don't think I'm up for it dad."

"You're not too sick to sit in front of your computer and do a few mouse clicks. You're not too sick to care, are you Stanley?"

"…I guess not."

Before Randy could ask him for anything else Stan jumped out and slammed the truck door behind him, running up the stairs to his bedroom.

The Marsh residence wasn't quite as chaotic as the McCormick family's residence was. But still Shelly lurked around to ruin Stan's already awful day, as always. But as long as Stan was alone in his room with the door locked, he felt okay, peaceful even.
And he was better off than Kyle. Kyle's mom wouldn't allow either of her sons to have a lock on their bedroom doors. When Kyle was pissed off at his parents he had to shove a dresser in front of his door to block them out and he was pretty sure Kenny didn't have a door on his bedroom at all. Stan felt lucky compared to that.

In Stan's room, everything was in its right place. His desk with his computer, the night stand with his awesome Denver Broncos lamp, book shelf with the full Bubblegum Prince series as well as school books and his long forgotten copy of Catcher in the Rye, his Street Warrior poster above his bed, which Stan would stare at as he fell asleep every night.
Stan removed his hat and lay down on his bed, his thoughts shifting from Kyle's insane mom to Wendy.

"Wendy..."

Saying her name out-loud was okay for him. He rolled over and opened his bedside table drawer, taking out a picture she gave him when they first started going out. Her face smiled back at him in the photograph as she held a yellow flower in her gloved hand.

"I'll be yours forever. Sure, Wendy, until someone better comes along."

Stan sighed. He didn't know what his problem was. He was fine alone with the photo but with Wendy in front of him his nervousness got the best of him. Was he doing better in the romance department than any of his other friends and acquaintances?

Butters had paid a girl to kiss him. Kenny had moved past the kissing phase quickly and gone straight to blowjobs…which had killed him. Kyle had done okay, kissed Bebe in front of him and Wendy in the clubhouse, but not into it. The other girl Kyle liked had turned him into a lovesick wuss, and that had ended badly. Cartman however…

Stan's hands clenched in anger over the memory, causing the picture of Wendy to crinkle up. Cartman had gotten a way better kiss from his girlfriend than Stan himself had ever gotten. Wendy had tried to get something from Stan earlier on the playground, but of course Stan could never be cool in front of her. Sports be dammed! Other than that what did Stan have that made him special? If he lost Wendy over this he would just be another boring kid in the background. If he didn't have Wendy what else did he have?

Stan thought back to when he "won" Wendy, after the Canadian-American War, they were semi blissful until she left him. After being depressed for a bit he and forgotten about her, didn't give a crap about her, or so he thought. Stupid egg project bringing up old memories. But when he and Wendy were forced to team up, their best friends were acting crazy. Stan and Wendy had to stop Kyle from wanting to burn down the school and Bebe from killing them all over some shoes. What a pair those two made. After that mess they were together again.

Stan still had Wendy, for now but to keep her. Wendy Testaburger wasn't just impressed but typical stuff like flowers and chocolate, but he knew it wouldn't hurt either. He had to be an activist again to impress her, and do some good for the world as well.

"Just what could I do?"

Stan stared at the picture on his wall of him and Sparky when his dad's annoying voice shattered his thoughts.

"Staaaan? Who are you talking to? Did you check your emails?"

Oh god dammit. "No one, Dad, just myself. I'll do it right now."

Stan shoved Wendy's picture back into his drawer and went over to his computer, flipping on the switch.
As most kids had, Stan had two separate emails.

There was Stan's real email that he used for Xbox live and signing up for forums and such- and there was his parent friendly email . Loves2spooge would have to wait, maybe a few emails from Kyle or some football and game websites. It still irked him that Kyle had used his real email to sign up from that soul sucking website facebook, but he could let it slide. The facebook profile was deleted and no harm was done, except for Kyle's Farmville crops.

Speaking of Stan's best friend he logged quickly into his real email and shot a quick email to Kyle. Speaking his true thoughts. It was 3:30pm. Kyle and the rest of the kids would be on the bus ride home by now.

Stan's other email, Smarsh19 was filled with useless crap from his dad, mom, grandma and pretty much every family member out there.

Stan rolled his eyes as he logged into his other email. Spam… spam…spam… Jesus loves him apparently and he had to tell 10 people on his friends list about it…bullsh*t… bullsh*t…bullsh*t… He clicked on the last thing his dad sent him. It was marked "stop this tragedy!" He clicked and a video opened up and a voice that eerily sounded like Sally Struthers filled Stan's quiet room.

"Each year thousands of animals are kept in testing facilities in cages too small for them, left to sit in their own feces and filth and for what? To be used as test subjects in makeup and household products. More and more animals are tortured and killed due to this mistreatment most right in towns such as South Park."

Stan quickly shut the video window, trying not to puke again over what he had just seen. If there was any cause in which Stan could stand up and be an activist on his own it sure as hell would be over animal abuse.

Stan made sure the video was completely over before he checked the forwarding email. The name to the animal testing facility was on there. Stan glanced at the clock. 3:45pm, Kyle should be home already. So would Wendy. Stan grabbed his phone and thought for a minute of who to call first, slowly he punched out Wendy's phone number. Ringing, ringing, ringing.

At the Testaburger residence Wendy had thrown down her backpack, soiled shirt in a plastic bag…thanks Nurse Gollum. She went to her room and changed, throwing the disgusting pink Christmas sweater in her trash can. It never existed. Out of sight, out of mind. Stan's dialing finger was a bit too slow, he shouldn't had hesitated because Wendy already picked up the white princess phone in her room to call Bebe.

Bebe and Wendy were just as close best friends as Stan and Kyle could be their actions and emotions in sync. Bebe picked up her phone line, instinctively knowing who it was.

"How are you holding up?"

"Disgusting sweater disposed of, bad thoughts I can't shake, lots and lots of bad thoughts, memories. Dammit it's never like it is on TV."

"Maybe my show just isn't for you, Wendy."

"Maybe I shouldn't take love advice from a show called Skins anyway, Bebe. That show is inappropriate for kids our age anyway. It sends bad messages, bad consequences."

"But Wendy, it's on BBC America every night! They show a hot guy's ass every other week! I just can't go back to Full House after that!"

"Bebe stop fangirling! This is serious! I don't know what I'm going to do about Stan!"

"Wendy! Wendy! Get a grip. You say this about every other month or about after the fifth time you've been puked on, whatever comes first."

"Maybe I should break up with him…again."

"Wendy, you always get discouraged and I always have to talk you out of it. Do I have to do it again?"

"I don't know what to do, Bebe."

"How about this: if you can name three things you really like about Stan you should stay."

"Well…"

"Name them. Right now."

Wendy sat back on her bed, pondering.
"Well, even though we can never get in a decent kiss, he is really sweet and caring."

"Good, go on."

"Um, we do kind of make a good pair, him being into sport and me being class president. It's not a set pair like a cheerleader and football player together, no offence, Bebe."

"None taken. You can say anything to me, Wendy, well almost anything."

"We have a good…thing going I guess."

"See why I make you do this exercise now, Wendy?"

"Yeah, but I don't like that he seems to want to spend more time with his friends rather than me, I hate that."

"Ooh, one strike against him, but we're trying to think positive. Think of one more thing so it's three to one."

"Ummm a third thing..."

"May I suggest looks?"

"Bebe, I would never be so shallow."

"Wendy, no relationship would work if there was not some kind of physical attraction."

"Been reading your mom's Cosmopolitans again haven't you Bebe?"

"How do you think I got this good? Go on, tell me you think your boyfriend is hot."

Wendy smiled. "He's hot."

"How hot?"

"The best looking guy in school."

"Well I wouldn't go that far, I made a list over this."

"I think I love him again."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that."

"Thanks Bebe, you always know what to say."
Meanwhile Stan was very much troubled over the phone with Kyle who was on his own computer.

"Yeah it's horrible and that place is here in town. We would be doing so much good if you and Kenny go along with my plan. Got the address?"

The sound of the keyboard clicking could be heard on Kyle's end of the line. "Yeah it's right by Stark's Pond. You sure you're doing this just to protect animal rights Stan?"

"Yeah dude, definitely."

"This has nothing to do with puking on Wendy in front of the entire playground earlier today?'

"I- I don't know."

"You should invite her along on this mission. Be a hero in front of her like what you have planned."

"It's not just about that dude. I hate seeing animals suffer."

"Alright Stan, just checking."

"Okay I have to go, you're going to call Kenny? I can't borrow and drive my dad's truck without him to use the pedals for me, you're too afraid to help me out dude."

"Hey buckle up for safety, dude."

"Kyle will you call him for me? I'm gonna try Wendy again."

"Sure goodbye."

"Bye."

Stan hung up feeling a bit more satisfied with himself. He quickly dialed Wendy's number again only to be met with a busy signal. Oh well, things would be better tomorrow. All Stan had to do was wait for it to get dark and his parents to go to sleep for his ingenious plan to go into action.
Last edited by Detectivesandyvagina on Tue Oct 04, 2011 4:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
furrybutch
Posts: 574
Joined: Thu Jul 08, 2010 8:03 pm

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby furrybutch » Sun Jul 25, 2010 7:18 pm

Detectivesandyvagina wrote:It’s a typical Friday afternoon, the recess after lunch. Nine year old Stan Marsh was heading into the boys bathroom, taking a break from yet another football game on the playground. He noted a piece of paper attached to the wall and after finishing his business went in for a closer look. The first thing he noticed was the stupid paper was held against the wall by chewed up bubble gum- gross! The second thing he noticed is that it’s another stupid list. The third thing he noticed was it’s his name at the bottom of this new list. He rolled his eyes.
“I’m at the bottom of ‘Most Exciting’? Really? That stupid council is really reaching nowadays, aren’t they?”
Stan’s voice echoed in the empty bathroom. Well, he would prevent anyone dying, anyone getting arrested or anyone trying to burn down the school this time. Stan grabbed a paper towel in his hand and gingerly unstuck the piece of paper from the wall. He wasn’t as grossed out by bodily fluids as Kyle was but still it was gross. Stan ripped the page in half, and then again and again until it was in tiny little pieces. He tossed the sticky pieces into the toilet. He would have pissed on them if he’d seen the page earlier. He wouldn’t flip out or do anything rash, just talk to Wendy. She was a girl, she was on his side, and she would know. He definitely wouldn’t speak of this to any of his guy-friends. He didn’t want to start any disasters that could easily be prevented.
The playground was usually divided during the half hour recess. The boys had taken the empty field, which had been covered with the snow from last night. Now, the field was tracked with muddy foot prints as the boys played football. Stan ignored his friends calling him back and headed closer to the school to the playground equipment, to that old merry go round.
The Girls Territory.
Bebe, Red and the lovely Miss Wendy Testaburger were gathered on the merry go round. Red was going on about some problems at home. Wendy sympathetically patted her on the shoulder as Bebe looked on, shoving stick after stick of gum into her mouth. Stan approached the girls as casually as he could. Sure, all girls were insane (except for Wendy, of course) but he still had to make a good impression on her friends.
“Wendy, could I talk to you? Just for a minute.”
“Sure, Stan.”
Wendy broke away from her clique and took her boyfriend’s hand. She squeezed his gloved hand in her own and a warm feeling filled Stan as he tried to hold back his gag reflex. He took a deep breath, still trying to look cool in front of Wendy.
“Wendy?”
“Yes, Stan?”
She smiled at him. That one smile from her and his stomach turned. God, what was wrong with him? Stan tried to swallow back his nausea.
“Another list was stuck to the boy’s bathroom wall.”
“The wall of the boy’s bathroom? How did it get there? And what did it say this time?”
“Most exciting boy in the class? What is that even supposed to mean? I was on the bottom, by the way.”
Wendy stifled a laugh.
“So, you’re the least exciting boy in class? Oh boy, Bebe is really running out of ideas for Girls Council.”
“How can you laugh at this Wendy?”
“And how can you get upset at this Stan? This is why the boys aren’t allowed to see the list. It made everyone go psycho last time. I don’t want you to go psycho over it, you can be better than that!”
“I’m not going to burn down the school Wendy, if that’s what you’re thinking. But still it’s a bad feeling. Even Cartman is ahead of me on that list.”
“Well, that’s the thing about Cartman. He’s fat, racist, misogynistic and sociopathic. All bad qualities but I guess that still makes him interesting. Now I’m curious, who is number one?”
“…Clyde.”
Wendy pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she picked up from Stan.
“See? This is why I left the girl’s council. The lists seem to be horribly corrupted these days.”
“You’re not a part of them anymore, Wendy?”
“I left ages ago Stan, and honestly if I had any part of making this list you would of ranked a lot higher. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Stan smiled. “Really, Wendy?”
“Really, Stan.”
Wendy smiled in that certain way and his stomach twisted violently. Stan could always try to be cool in front of her but when she smiled it shook him to the core. Wendy noticed him blushing and did something she wanted to try for a while. Something she saw on TV all the time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went in for a stereotypical smooch. But this was not some movie star Wendy was about to kiss, this was Stan Marsh. So, needless to say, the typical reaction happened.
“Bleeeeach!”
Wendy blinked and pulled back, her hair and clothes covered in what they had for lunch not even half an hour ago.
Stan wiped his mouth. “Sorry, Wendy.”
“No, no, it’s my fault. I should know not to get to close to you. You still can’t handle it at times. I need a change of clothes RIGHT NOW!”
“Wendy! I said I was sorry!”
Wendy rolled her eyes and stomped across the playground, sticky and starting to smell like rancid cheese. She had to talk to a responsible adult about getting a change of clothes. But a responsible adult would be hard to find right now, Mr. Garrison had playground duty today.
Herbert Garrison cursed Friday lunch recess. He could care less if the children killed each other while out on the playground, less kids to deal with in the classroom he thought. But every Friday this was his post. The happy screams of the children only made his bad mood worse. Christ, he wished he could smoke while on playground duty. A smoke and a drink would be good right about now. Mr. Garrison checked his watch, only ten minutes of this hell outside and then back to the hell inside, but at least he wouldn’t be so cold. Also he could sneak a shot from the bottle under his desk right before afternoon lessons started. He was so focused on getting to the hidden bottle of Jack he didn’t notice Wendy coming up to him, covered in vomit.
“Mr. Garrison? Mr. Garrison? MR. GARRISON!”
“What!”
Wendy held out her arms. “Look at me!”
“I don’t think green and brown are your colors, Wendy. You should stick to purple.”
“I need a change of clothes, Mr. Garrison!”
“Did you puke on yourself, Wendy?”
“No, Stan did!”
“Then both of you should go to the nurse’s office.”
“He didn’t throw up on me because he was sick.”
“I don’t care Wendy. It’s school policy.” Mr. Garrison shouted from across the playground. “Stan? Stanley Marsh to the nurse’s office immediately!”
Stan had just barely gotten back into the football game when he heard his name being called.
“That’s a new one, Stan…being called to the nurse’s office instead of the principal’s or counselor’s office!” Kenny mumbled.
“Awh, just when this game was getting good!” Stan cupped his hands around his mouth and shouts back to Mr. Garrison. “I’M NOT SICK MR. GARRISON!”
“STANLEY MARSH, YOU GO TO THE NURSES OFFICE RIGHT NOW OR I’LL SEND YOU TO THE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE AND MAKE SURE YOU HAVE NO RECESS FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS!”
“Aw, awww! Five minutes, guys.”
Stan jogged across the playground in a show to Mr. Garrison that he was fine, leaving Kyle standing next to Kenny.
“Better him than me, Kenny. Nurse Gollum still freaks me out dude.”
Stan came up to Mr. Garrison and an increasingly pissed off Wendy. “Mr. Garrison, I’m fine!”
“No whining, come on Stanley!”
Mr. Garrison grabbed Stan by the jacket and dragged him into the building, Wendy trailing behind. Mr. Garrison would have grabbed Wendy to move her along quicker, but he didn’t want to touch her vomit covered jacket.
Nurse Gollum was a perfectly nice lady even if the giant fetus attached to her head held her back from getting close to anyone, sat behind her desk “doing paperwork” aka checking her Facebook. She jumps up immediately, shutting her laptop when the three entered.
“Oh my goodness what happened here?”
“One of these little basta- eh children threw up on the other.”
Wendy stood, disgusted, with her arms crossed. Stan lagged behind, trying to avoid the embarrassing situation. Nurse Gollum, being used to puke and gross stuff, took Wendy by the shoulder without hesitation.
“Come with me dear, we’ll find you a change of clothes at the front office. You, young man, go lay down and I’ll be back to take your temperature and call your parents.”
“But I’m fine, Miss! Really, I am!”
“I think you should stay with him, Mr. Garrison. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Nurse Gollum, I think Stan is perfectly okay watching himself, I have better things to do.”
“Mr. Garrison we have to be supportive role models as well as authority figures for our students, now if you don’t mind.”
Nurse Gollum took Wendy by the hand and led her out of the office. Mr. Garrison sighed and plopped down behind the nurse’s desk. The bottle under his desk would have to wait. Stan still stood in the doorway, trying not to be noticed.
“Lay down, Stanley.”
“But I keep telling you I’m fine!”
“Oh for the love of god, just lay down! Authority figures, my ass!”
Stan, defeated, sighed and walked over to the little cot. He sat at the edge, and eventually laid his head down, pulling his knees to his chest. Stan didn’t feel sick but he still felt bad.
Mr. Garrison had opened Nurse Gollum’s laptop with some curiosity and was looking for something interesting and possibly erotically stimulating on the thing. The only thing so far was a picture on Nurse Gollum’s Facebook of her in a low cut blouse.
Mr. Garrison was half trying to decide if the School Nurse would be hotter if he blocked out the dead fetus in her pictures or was she more attractive because of the dead fetus.

He was questioning himself and the freaky stuff he was into when he looked over at Stan looking miserable on the cot.
…Ah, well Nurse Gollum didn’t have that great of a rack but she had told him to be supportive of their students.
“What’s wrong Stan? I know I’m your teacher, you can come to me with any problems you may have.”
The stupid list and the fact he could never do anything right for Wendy were running through Stan’s head. He looked over at his teacher. Stan didn’t trust any adults except for Chef and right now he missed poor Chef. He could try a question meant for Chef on Garrison and see how badly his teacher would screw it up.
Stan sat up and propped himself up on one elbow. “Mr. Garrison, can I ask you a question? In my group of friends what makes me stand out among them?”

“I don't know Stanley, all the kids in my class all kind of blend together. I mean, you all are special in your own way. I guess, that’s what you’re supposed to say in these situations, right?” Mr. Garrison turned his back to Stan and tried to focus more on Nurse Gollum’s friend list.

“My friend Kenny has power over life and death and is knowledgeable about sex, my best friend Kyle is smart and honorable and full of this anger against Cartman, who has done the worst possible things. Yet still, Cartman can get away with it and is probably my second closest friend…but don't let Kyle hear that. But in the group of four where do I stand out? I’m too selfish to be as moral as Kyle but still care too much to be as heartless as Cartman. My own mouth keeps getting me into trouble. When can I stand out on my own and not have some bullsh*t f*ck it up?”

“What about that girl?”

“Huh?”

“Your little girlfriend Wendy? The one you just puked on and humiliated on the playground? Don’t you have her?”

Stan could almost crack a smile at that. “Yeah, I guess I have her.”
“Of course, you probably just let that fly out the window. Remember the Christmas play? I made you little friend Kyle be Joseph and Wendy be Mary? I knew you were the one dying for that part but you could never get it together to be that close to her, I didn’t want you to mess up my play.”
“Blame me for ruining the play Mr. Garrison? I think the townspeople did a good job on their own ruining Christmas last year.”
“No backtalk Stanley, I’m trying to help you.”
Stan’s smiled faded a bit as he thought. “What about me and my sports? They always put me ahead in all the teams I try out for. I was quarterback in football, pitcher in baseball and star striker in soccer. That has to count for something. Right, Mr. Garrison?”
“Sure with that you’ll have a fine time in school always succeeding in school and your own cockiness will get the best of you and you’ll blow another big game and probably suffer some horrific injury in your teens ruining any chances of making a career out of it.”
Stan placed his head back on the cot, ego wounded, confidence defeated. God, what was wrong with everyone employed at this school? He shut his eyes and a few minutes later, was gently shaken awake by Nurse Gollum.
“Stanley, your father is here to pick you up.”
“Where’s Wendy?”
“She’s perfectly fine and back on the playground dear.”
“Stan, Staaaan? Are you okay son?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m fine.”
Randy Marsh got in close to see his son, Stan could smell the alcohol on his breath but didn’t want to speak up, the last thing he needed was his dad arrested on top of an already sh*tty day.
“Put your coat and hat on and let’s go, kiddo.”
Stan sat up, looking confuse. “Dad..?”
“What, Stanley?”
“I…never take off my hat or jacket, most of the time.”
“Oh right, right, let’s go.” Randy pointed to Nurse Gollum. “And be happy we don’t choose to sue the school over making my boy sick!”
“Dad, Jesus Christ, I’m not that bad!”
Randy took the collar of Stan’s jacket and pulled him out on the playground out into the parking lot. Stan could see Wendy, her hands over her face with Bebe and Red consoling her.
“I’m sorry, Wendy!” Stan yelled across the playground.
Wendy looked up at him, left hand raised in the air, giving him the finger. He could see from across the playground what the school gave her to wear. An ugly knitted together sweater colored a shocking pink, a huge Christmas tree across the front was now Wendy’s ‘outfit’.
Stan’s face turned the color of his girlfriend’s sweater as he got into his dad’s truck. Randy got in on the other side and slammed the door shut. Stan lost in thought jumped a bit as his dad started up his truck.
“Goddamn, I’m glad to be out of there with that freaky school nurse breathing down my neck. I don’t see how you kids can do it, being in school all day like that. “
Stan stared straight ahead, ignoring his father. He considered talking to his dad on what was on his mind but it was fairly clear that the last person he could go to for good advice was his own father. He was just as screwed up in the head as every other adult in this town. He’d just hold off any real questions about his personality until school let out and Kyle could come over.
Randy looked over and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, the car slightly swerving to the left. Stan’s head jerked up again.
“Dad, watch it!”
“What’s wrong son? You look depressed.”
“Nothing! Just watch the road!”
Randy gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Are you sure, Stan? You can tell me anything.”
Stan didn’t respond, hoping it’d be enough to deter him from asking any more stupid questions.
“Well I’m glad we can spend some quality time together. Your mother wanted me to do some yard work and now you can help me.”
Hell, he was already out of school (but without a decent chance to apologize to Wendy) he might as well milk it.
“I think maybe I might still be too sick for any chores dad. I think I’ll just be up in my room.”
Randy pulled the truck into the Marsh family driveway.
“Alright, Stan. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, Dad just a little sick. I should lie down.”
“Then, can you do me a favor?”
Stan had his hand on the door handle. The sanctuary of his room. So close. Dammit.
“Yeah, dad…?”
“You should check your email Stan. I forwarded a ton of important emails to you.”
“I don’t think I’m up for it dad.”
“You’re not too sick to sit in front of your computer and do a few mouse clicks. You’re not too sick to care, are you Stanley?”
“…I guess not.”
Before Randy could ask him for anything else Stan jumped out and slammed the truck door behind him, running up the stairs to his bedroom.
The Marsh residence wasn’t quite as chaotic as the McCormick family’s residence was. But still Shelly lurked around to ruin Stan’s already awful day, as always. But as long as Stan was alone in his room with the door locked, he felt okay, peaceful even.
And he was better off than Kyle. Kyle’s mom wouldn’t allow either of her sons to have a lock on their bedroom doors. When Kyle was pissed off at his parents he had to shove a dresser in front of his door to block them out and he was pretty sure Kenny didn’t have a door on his bedroom at all. Stan felt lucky compared to that.
In Stan’s room, everything was in its right place. His desk with his computer, the night stand with his awesome Denver Broncos lamp, book shelf with the full Bubblegum Prince series as well as school books and his long forgotten copy of Catcher in the Rye, his Street Warrior poster above his bed, which Stan would stare at as he fell asleep every night.
Stan removed his hat and lay down on his bed, his thoughts shifting from Kyle’s insane mom to Wendy.
“Wendy...”
Saying her name out-loud was okay for him. He rolled over and opened his bedside table drawer, taking out a picture she gave him when they first started going out. Her face smiled back at him in the photograph as she held a yellow flower in her gloved hand.
“I’ll be yours forever. Sure, Wendy, until someone better comes along.”
Stan sighed. He didn’t know what his problem was. He was fine alone with the photo but with Wendy in front of him his nervousness got the best of him. Was he doing better in the romance department than any of his other friends and acquaintances?
Butters had paid a girl to kiss him. Kenny had moved past the kissing phase quickly and gone straight to blowjobs…which had killed him. Kyle had done okay, kissed Bebe in front of him and Wendy in the clubhouse, but not into it. The other girl Kyle liked had turned him into a lovesick wuss, and that had ended badly. Cartman however…
Stan’s hands clenched in anger over the memory, causing the picture of Wendy to crinkle up. Cartman had gotten a way better kiss from his girlfriend than Stan himself had ever gotten. Wendy had tried to get something from Stan earlier on the playground, but of course Stan could never be cool in front of her. Sports be dammed! Other than that what did Stan have that made him special? If he lost Wendy over this he would just be another boring kid in the background. If he didn’t have Wendy what else did he have?
Stan thought back to when he “won” Wendy, after the Canadian-American War, they were semi blissful until she left him. After being depressed for a bit he and forgotten about her, didn’t give a crap about her, or so he thought. Stupid egg project bringing up old memories. But when he and Wendy were forced to team up, their best friends were acting crazy. Stan and Wendy had to stop Kyle from wanting to burn down the school and Bebe from killing them all over some shoes. What a pair those two made. After that mess they were together again.
Stan still had Wendy, for now but to keep her. Wendy Testaburger wasn’t just impressed but typical stuff like flowers and chocolate (but he knew it wouldn’t hurt either.) He had to be an activist again to impress her, and do some good for the world as well.
“Just what could I do?”
Stan stared at the picture on his wall of him and Sparky when his dad’s annoying voice shattered his thoughts.
“Staaaan? Who are you talking to? Did you check your emails?”
Oh god dammit. “No one, Dad, just myself. I’ll do it right now.”
Stan shoved Wendy’s picture back into his drawer and went over to his computer, flipping on the switch.
As most kids had, Stan had two separate emails. There was Stan’s real email that he used for Xbox live and signing up for forums and such- loves2spooge@computer.com and there was his parent friendly email smarsh19@computer.com. Loves2spooge would have to wait, maybe a few emails from Kyle or some football and game websites. It still irked him that Kyle had used his real email to sign up from that soul sucking website facebook, but he could let it slide, the facebook profile was deleted and no harm was done, except for Kyle’s farmville crops.
Speaking of Stan’s best friend he logged quickly into his real email and shot a quick email to Kyle. Speaking his true thoughts. It was 3:30pm; Kyle and the rest of the kids would be on the bus ride home by now.
Stan’s other email, Smarsh19 was filled with useless crap from his dad, mom, grandma and pretty much every family member out there.
Stan rolled his eyes as he logged into his other email. Spam… spam…spam… Jesus loves him apparently and he had to tell 10 people on his friends list about it…bullsh*t… bullsh*t…bullsh*t… He clicked on the last thing his dad sent him. It was marked “stop this tragedy!!!” Stan clicked and a video opened up and a voice that eerily sounded like Sally Struthers filled Stan’s quiet room.
“Each year thousands of animals are kept in testing facilities in cages too small for them, left to sit in their own feces and filth and for what? To be used as test subjects in makeup and household products. More and more animals are tortured and killed due to this mistreatment most right in towns such as South Park.”
Stan quickly shut the video window, trying not to puke again over what he had just seen. If there was any cause in which Stan could stand up and be an activist on his own it sure as hell would be over animal abuse.
Stan made sure the video was completely over before he checked the forwarding email. The name to the animal testing facility was on there. Stan glanced at the clock. 3:45pm, Kyle should be home already. So would Wendy. Stan grabbed his phone and thought for a minute of who to call first, slowly he punched out Wendy’s phone number. Ringing, ringing, ringing.
At the Testaburger residence Wendy had thrown down her backpack, soiled shirt in a plastic bag…thanks Nurse Gollum. She went to her room and changed, throwing the disgusting pink Christmas sweater in her trash can. It never existed. Out of sight out of mind. Stan’s dialing finger was a bit too slow (he shouldn’t had hesitated!) because Wendy already picked up the white princess phone in her room to call Bebe.
Bebe and Wendy were just as close best friends as Stan and Kyle could be their actions and emotions in sync. Bebe picked up her phone line, instinctively knowing who it was.
“How are you holding up?”
“Disgusting sweater disposed of, bad thoughts I can’t shake, lots and lots of bad thoughts, memories. Dammit it’s never like it is on TV.”
“Maybe my show just isn’t for you, Wendy.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t take love advice from a show called Skins anyway, Bebe. That show is inappropriate for kids our age anyway. It sends bad messages, bad consequences.”
“But Wendy, it’s on BBC America every night! They show a hot guy’s ass every other week! I just can’t go back to Full House after that!”
“Bebe stop fangirling! This is serious! I don’t know what I’m going to do about Stan!”
“Wendy! Wendy! Get a grip. You say this about every other month or about after the fifth time you’ve been puked on, whatever comes first.”
“Maybe I should break up with him…again.”
“Wendy, you always get discouraged and I always have to talk you out of it. Do I have to do it again?”
“I don’t know what to do, Bebe.”
“How about this: if you can name three things you really like about Stan you should stay.”
“Well…”
“Name them. Right now.”
Wendy sat back on her bed, pondering.
“Well, even though we can never get in a decent kiss, he is really sweet and caring.”
“Good, go on.”
“Um, we do kind of make a good pair, him being into sport and me being class president. It’s not a set pair like a cheerleader and football player together, no offence, Bebe.”
“None taken. You can say anything to me, Wendy, well almost anything.”
“We have a good…thing going I guess.”
“See why I make you do this exercise now, Wendy?”
“Yeah, but I don’t like that he seems to want to spend more time with his friends rather than me, I hate that.”
“Ooh, one strike against him, but we’re trying to think positive. Think of one more thing so it’s three to one.”
“Ummm a third thing...”
“May I suggest looks?”
“Bebe, I would never be so shallow.”

“Wendy, no relationship would work if there was not some kind of physical attraction.”

“Been reading your mom’s Cosmopolitans again haven’t you Bebe?”

“How do you think I got this good? Go on, tell me you think your boyfriend is hot.”

Wendy smiled. “He’s hot.”

“How hot?”

“The best looking guy in school.”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far, I made a list over this.”

“I think I love him again.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thanks Bebe, you always know what to say.”
Meanwhile Stan was very much troubled over the phone with Kyle who was on his own computer.

“Yeah it’s horrible and that place is here in town. We would be doing good if you and Kenny go along with my plan. Got the address?”

The sound of the keyboard clicking could be heard on Kyle’s end of the line.

“Yeah it’s right by Stark’s Pond. You sure you’re doing this just to protect animal rights Stan?”

“Yeah dude, definitely.”

“This has nothing to do with puking on Wendy in front of the entire playground earlier today?’

“I- I don’t know.”

“You should invite her along on this mission. Be a hero in front of her like what you have planned.”

“It’s not just about that dude. I hate seeing animals suffer.”

“Alright Stan, just checking.”

“Okay I have to go, you’re going to call Kenny? I can’t borrow and drive my dad’s truck without him to use the pedals for me, you’re too afraid to help me out dude.”

“Hey buckle up for safety, dude.”

“Kyle will you call him for me? I’m gonna try Wendy again.”

“Sure goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Stan hung up feeling a bit more satisfied with himself. He quickly dialled Wendy’s number again only to be met with a busy signal. Oh well, things would be better tomorrow. All Stan had to do was wait for it to get dark and his parents to go to sleep for his plan to go into action.


Wow.This is nothing more or less than a very realistic fanfic and i :heart: it.
I love the theme that you chose,the way you potrayed the characters and i love the pair.I'm not against yaoi pairs,but damn i wanted to see a straight fanfic for once! :mrgreen:
Who wants a super delish candy with a superextracalifragilistic rapeinduhass?
Detectivesandyvagina
Posts: 41
Joined: Wed May 20, 2009 10:16 am

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby Detectivesandyvagina » Sun Jul 25, 2010 7:50 pm

Awwwh thanks! Stan and Wendy are like the only pair of the kids anyway dude. and i hate f*cking slash XD
Detectivesandyvagina
Posts: 41
Joined: Wed May 20, 2009 10:16 am

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby Detectivesandyvagina » Wed Mar 09, 2011 6:20 am

A/N- Sorry for bumping something so old but it is a new chapter!

Stan would have spent the rest of the afternoon sulking and attempting to call Wendy again for the forty seventh time, even though Kyle told him, over instant message, to let it go. Out of sheer boredom and yet another busy signal, Stan walked back downstairs and got roped into peeling potatoes by his dad. Ever since his dad had got fired on the night Obama was elected, he was on unemployment. Stan's mom had taken on more hours at Tom's Rhinoplasty, which left Randy in charge of all the family meals, much to Randy's delight and to the horror of the rest of the family.

Stan sat on a stool over the trash can with a knife and bowl of potatoes peeling very slowly and deliberately as Randy stood over the stove with his current favorite cook book, Exotic British Recipes. Stan had to shudder, British food was terrible, but he had to ask...to prepare himself.

“So uh Dad, what are you going to make tonight?”

“I’m making a special sauce with mustard, creme fraiche, white wine and a secret ingredient for the main dish. You just work on peeling the potatoes, parsnips, carrots and swede.”

“Oh god not that disgusting crème Fraiche stuff again, you want a side of potatoes, parsnips, carrots and WHAT?”

Randy grinned and dropped another bowl next to his son. Stan picked up a small, purplish vegetable and turned it around in his hand.

“I want those all peeled and cut into one inch cubes okay Stanley?”

“Dad? Remember when Mom was the one making dinner and she would make her famous mashed potatoes? Those were always my favorite! Can we take a break from the crazy food for one day and make those? Like mom always did?”

Randy had his head in the refrigerator grabbing a bottle of French’s mustard. “You really like Mom’s special potato dish don’t you? Well, don’t worry, I can probably make that for you as well.”

Stan smiled and bent his head over the potato he was working on: a small victory. Something edible and his favorite homemade dish to boot.

Randy still had his head in the refrigerator, looking around when he was hit with a sudden burst of cooking inspiration. “We could have the same thing we’ve had for years, or I can make something new.” Randy held out a jar of pickled jalapenos to his son. “What do you think, Stan? Wanna try something exciting?”

“I don’t really know, Dad.”

“Come on, son, live a little. The only people who enjoy boring, bland food are boring and bland themselves.”

At the mention of the word ‘boring’, Stan cringed and slipped with the potato peeler, managing to nick the top of his thumb. He gave a small yelp of pain and dropped the potato. At the sound of Stan’s cry, Shelly entered the kitchen to grab a soda out of the fridge and laugh at her brother’s pain.

“Haha, Stan’s bleeding.”

“Shut up.” Stan gave his sister a dirty look and stuck his injured thumb in his mouth.

Shelly gave her brother a menacing look and started to make a fist when Randy interrupted, his back turned, busy preparing the mustard, wine and crème fraiche sauce. “Stan, go put a bandaid on; Shelly set the table-your Uncle Jimbo and Ned are coming over and your mother will be home soon.”

“You’re lucky this time, turd.” Shelly rolled her eyes and made a big show of flinging open the kitchen cabinets to grab some plates as Grandpa Marvin Marsh wheeled himself into the already cramped kitchen.

“Randy, you coddle that boy. I lived through two world wars, Billy and a little blood never hurt anyone!”

“Ew, Dad! I don’t want Stanley bleeding into the traditional English vegetable mash I was going to make.”

“I was in World War II and your brother, Jimbo was in Vietnam, Randall! You decided to go off with that prissy little boy band instead of applying yourself like a man and I can see it’s rubbing off on little Billy as well!”

The sound of Shelly cracking up in the dining room distracted his feuding grandfather and dad so Stan took this opportunity to escape the claustrophobic kitchen, running up the stairs into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and put the facet on full force, sticking his hand under the cool, running water. The cut on his hand wasn’t really that bad, but for the second time that day, he had gotten out of something by showing weakness. He was free of responsibility of chores and school for now but ouch, his pride. But it was always the hierarchy in the Marsh household: Grandpa, being the oldest getting to tell everyone exactly what he thought of them on a regular basis and all the way down the food chain with Stan at the bottom being the youngest, smallest and apparently the weakest, getting the most sh*t. Stan put on a bandaid on his thumb and was heading back to his room to hide when the doorbell rang.

“ANSWER THE DOOR, TURD! I’M SETTING THE TABLE!”

Stan obeyed and went to greet his Uncle Jimbo and Ned.

“Stanley! How are you!”

“Hi, Uncle Jimbo, I’m fine...I guess.”

“Really, Stanley? You don’t seem fine…you could manage a smile, sport.”

“MMM hello, Stanley.” Ned said with his voicebox. He had the Irish model tonight.

Stan cracked a small smile and thought maybe his Uncle Jimbo and Ned would understand. They had been cool enough to smuggle fireworks into Colorado for him and his friends that summer they were banned. Stan was about to ask when Jimbo handed Stan a tied up plastic grocery bag.

“That’s a boy, now take that to the kitchen, Stanley.”

Stan headed towards the kitchen and realized the bottom of the bag was sloshing with blood and feathers were poking out of the sides. He dropped the bag in horror on the kitchen counter. Randy was stirring an orange-ish concoction on the stove top and coating a pan with butter.

“Oh good, Jimbo’s here with my ducks.”

“Ducks?”

“Yeah, Stanley I had this excellent recipe that calls for fresh wild ducks so I had Jimbo and Ned hunt some for me. Oh. they look great!”

Randy grinned and pulled out one of the battered and practically torn apart, dead ducks and held it in front of his son’s face. Stan was reminded of the animal abuse video he had seen earlier and turned a bit green when he saw some of the blood from the bag drip down the counter and onto the floor. Randy noticed it as well and grabbed a measuring cup.

“Oh, don’t let any of the blood go to waste, Stanley, it’s the best part! The main ingredient in the sauce that goes along with it!”

Randy went on catching the duck blood in the cup as Stan went and sat down on his stool again. He saw the vegetables he was supposed to peel had already been done. Jimbo entered and dropped another sack on the counter. Randy eagerly ripped open that bag and pulled out a bloody rabbit carcass.

“This is really great, Jimbo. I can’t thank you enough. Ever since I saw that show on how to debone and cook poultry and rabbits, I’ve been dying to do it!”

Jimbo’s grin matched Randy’s as he slapped his little brother on the shoulder. “I like killing them and with this new hobby of yours you can keep cooking them! Now what’s the matter, Stanley?”

Stan had been staring at them, wide eyed and silent so Ned spoke up.

“MMm maybe the dead animals are getting to him.”

“I just don’t like seeing my food dead and bloody in front of me before it’s cooked and I eat it.”

“Nonsense, Stanley, hunting is a man’s sport. You loved going hunting with me and Ned that one time.”

“Now, Jimbo, you said little Stanley had trouble shooting the bunny. We can’t blame him for being…sensitive.”

Jimbo and Randy both fell into laughter and even Ned joined in with his mechanical voice as Stan turned red and spoke up.

“Hey, I killed that thing! Scuzzlebutt! What about that?”

The three men stopped chuckling and looked at Stan, all traces of humor leaving their faces.

“That was not cool and unnecessary, Stanley. You’ve got to learn that there are simply things you don’t kill.”

“Awh, I still don’t get it! I’m out of here!”

Stan walked through to the dining room and was met by his grandfather and sister.

“Lookit there, Billy, it took you half an hour to peel one potato and you hurt yourself. I started working when I was eight and I had to peel a twenty pound sack of potatoes in twenty minutes or they beat the sh*t outta me and wouldn’t let me eat. I tell you today these kids are soft, especially the boys.”

Shelly was busy texting some guy she met on the internet from New Mexico when she looked up grinning.

“I can toughen up Stan if you want, Grandpa!”

“It’s a disappointment to the Marsh family name when a boy’s own sister is stronger than him!”

“But I’m nine when she’s thirteen, I can’t defend myself yet!”

“No excuses, Billy, it’s just like Randy and Jimbo all over again but at least I had two boys then. A little physical violence is good for a young boy-builds character!”

And you grew up mean and suicidal. Stan thought to himself.

“Maybe you should teach Billy a lesson, Shelly.”

Why, out of all the family members in the household, Stan’s own grandfather couldn’t remember his name correctly?

“Really, Grandpa?” Shelly smiled as she put away her phone and approached her little brother.

Stan stepped back against the dining room wall and slowly tried to inch himself towards the exit to the living room. Shelly grabbed the collar of his jacket, slamming him hard against the wall, right fist raised and ready as Stan struggled to get out her grasp. Out of options, Stan shut his eyes and placed one hands in front of his face in a defensive position as the other kept reaching out for some way to escape, when he heard the sound of the front door opening. His mother was home!

Shelly let up for just a second. Stan’s fingers reached over to grasp the door frame and he swung himself around to the living room and away from Shelly, the momentum giving him a head start on escaping his sister as he ran to the door to greet his mother. The movement propelled him to run forcefully into Sharon, his arms wrapping around his mother’s waist causing her to drop her purse and keys in surprise.

“Stanley? What’s wrong honey?” She quickly returned her son’s hug.

Stan looked up as Shelly’s sneakered feet pounded up the stairs and her bedroom door slamming shut, the motor of Grandpa’s wheelchair could he heard whirring towards the direction of the kitchen. Safe for now.

“Nothing, Mom, I’m just happy to see you!”

Sharon smiled and hugged Stan even tighter. It was nice to receive affection from her son before he grew too old to still want his mommy. “I’m happy to see you too, sweetie. I was worried about you today since you got sent home sick from school.”

In a gesture of motherly affection, Sharon reached for Stan’s forehead, to feel with the back of her hand. Stan frowned at this and let go of the hug, stepping back until he was out of his mother’s reach.

“Mom, really I’m fine. Dad and the school really blew it out of proportion.”

Sharon sighed as she retrieved her purse and keys from the floor. In less than a minute since she came home, her son went from little boy to stubborn; almost pre-teen.

“I called the school nurse after your dad took you home and she told me this is a regular thing going on between you and Wendy. I have half a mind to call up Deborah and Sean Testaburger and discuss the issue with them.”

“Mom, no!”

“But I won’t, not yet at least. Instead I called up one of the clinic I work at’s contacts and invited someone over to have dinner with us and discuss the matter with me and your father. Hopefully your dad has cooked something normal tonight. Can you set another place setting at the table?”

Sharon headed back to the kitchen and Stan could hear the familiar sound of his mother starting to yell at his father while his dad tried to defend himself, and Jimbo and Ned laughing. Stan just stood alone in the living room, getting annoyed at the constant chaos in his house caused by the people he happened to be related to. Instead of listening to his mom Stan started up the stairs to call Wendy or Kyle again when the door bell rang once more. It briefly interrupted the arguing from the kitchen as both his parents shouted in unison.

“Answer the door, Stanley!”

Stan rolled his eyes and flung open the front door to be met with a woman with no arms, bent over with her tongue sticking out.

“Oh good, I’d thought I’d have to ring the door bell again. Hello, I’m Nurse Goodly.”

Stan stared at her.

“I’m friends with Sharon? She invited me over?”

He blinked.

“Look, kid, I’d shake your hand but you know..”

Sharon came up to the door. “Stanley, where are your manners? Rita, so good to see you!” Sharon pushed her son to the side to give her friend a hug. “This is my son, Stanley.”

“This is him then? He looks familiar to me. Has he been a patient at the hospital before?”

“He hasn’t been in the hospital since he came down with vaginitus a while back.”

“Oh, but that’s a very common disease. I think I recognize him from somewhere else.”

“Hey, don’t talk about me like I’m not here!”

“Stanley, be respectful of our guest! It’s almost impossible to get him to go to the doctor, it’s why I had to call you in for a house call.”

“No problem, Sharon. I guess I’ll examine him now.”

Nurse Goodly’s bag dropped from off her shoulder and she started to undo the zipper with her teeth. Digging her head into the bag, she emerged with a tongue depressor in her mouth.

“Say ahhh.” She said though her teeth.

Stan backed away from her, his back against the couch. “Don’t touch me.”

“Stanley! Cooperate right now or you’ll be in trouble, mister!”

“Please, Mom, no. Don’t make me do this.” Stan covered his face with his hands as he backed towards the couch, sitting down.

Nurse Goodly spat out the tongue depressor. “You’re right, Sharon. He is a handful to examine. From what I can see though he looks pretty normal. You said he had a vomiting problem? Maybe you should make a doctor’s appointment.”

Sharon sat down on the couch next to Stan, mimicking her son by burying her face in her own hands in frustration.

“I just don’t know what to do with him anymore, Rita! Ever since he started third grade, this has been happening! I’m extremely worried about his well being!”

Beginning of third grade? When he started liking Wendy? f*ck!

Nurse Goodly’s voice was muffled as she rummaged through her bag again with her face. “I’m sorry I can’t do a better job, I left my prosthetic arms behind at work today. I was in a rush to get out of there.” Her head popped up out of the bag in surprise. “Oh! That’s where I recognize your son from Sharon. That bad snow storm about a year ago when we had that really bad power outage at the hospital. Stanley and his little friends had to help us out. You stood out because you would not stop throwing up that night. I was sure something had to be wrong with you and I would have ordered you to undergo some tests but we had more severe cases to attend to that night. But now it would probably be beneficial to you if you came in for observation. Just a night or so.”

“Mom! I am not going into the hospital over this! Nothing’s wrong with me for f*ck’s sake!”

Sharon snapped her head up, going into her familiar mode. “I am sick of your attitude tonight, Stanley! Nurse Goodly has gone out of her way to help us out and you can’t even be grateful! You are on thin ice mister!”

Just then shots rang out from the back door and the Marsh family dog, Sparky started barking. Stan, Sharon and Nurse Goodly all ran into the back yard to be met with Uncle Jimbo and Ned with guns drawn at something pink on the ground, Sparky barking and growling at it.

Jimbo put his gun down. "Sorry about that, ladies, false alarm. We thought we saw your dog attacking some kind of bright pink creature and had to investigate."

Stan walked up to the pink mess and saw fluffy white stuffing coming out of it. "You mean the pink teddy bear we gave Sparky to play with? All of Sparky's toys are pink; it's my dog’s favorite color."

Jimbo went up to investigate his kill as well. "I'm pretty sure a dog can't have a preference of color, Stanley, all dogs are colorblind you know."

Sharon went to investigate as well, but Ned lagged behind with Nurse Goodly, holding his voice box up with his one remaining arm. "Mmm hello. I don't think we've met. I'm Ned Gerblansky."

Sharon overheard. "Oh, Ned, this is Nurse Goodly. She's a friend of mine and sometimes works at Tom's Rhinoplasty. I brought her in to examine Stanley and get to the bottom of his little problem, but he wouldn't cooperate."

"I said I don't have a problem!" Stan spoke up from across the yard.

Jimbo caught sight of Ned and the nurse as well. "I know Ned when he gets that look on his face. Watch him try to romance her, Stanley."

Sharon noticed too at the blush appearing on her coworker’s face. "Why hello, I'm Rita Goodly, I love your accent."

"MMM Why thank you mmm'lady."

Stan went up to his mom again. "How come you listen to everyone else but me?"

"Shhh, Stanley. Go get your sister and you two wash up for dinner. Your dad stopped banging pots around and cursing, that means dinner will be ready soon."

Stan grumbled at his mother's ability to believe everyone but Stan himself when he had a problem. But he obeyed and went inside.

Shelly's bedroom door was shut and slightly vibrating from the heavy bass of the generic sounding pop music coming from the entertainment system that took up an entire wall of her bedroom. The sound system had been given to her by their now deceased Aunt Flo. Aunt Flo had given Stan a gold fish...that had killed a bunch of people. Nobody in this damn family appreciated him, did they?

Stan pounded his fist on the door; trying to be heard over the sound of the music. "Dinner's ready!"

The music got switched off. His job done Stan went into the bathroom and stuck his hand under the faucet, the band aid on his thumb growing soggy as Shelly came from behind. Stan stood on guard in case she wanted to smack him in the back of the head as she usually did. But she just stood there, waiting her turn it seemed like, or just waiting to strike most likely.

"Who's come over now, turd? I heard the doorbell ring again."

The soggy band aid fell on Stan's finger, the soap making the fresh cut sting. "Mom invited some nurse she knows over."

"Why?"

"She...she thinks there's something wrong with me."

Shelly shoved her brother to the side of the sink and started putting soap on her hands. "You're taking too long, turd. And of course there's something wrong with you. Mom didn't need a nurse to tell us that."

"There's something wrong with everyone in the family Shelly. I think you all just give me sh*t to cover up all your personality flaws. I stick out among you guys because I'm the only one who's...normal."

Stan spat out the last word as he tried to get the last of the soap off his hands with a towel, his sister hogging the sink as usual. Shelly turned to him, eyes narrowed. She gave him a big slap across the face, leaving a soapy hand print on his cheek.

"Thanks, Shelly. You know just what to say to make me feel better." Stan wiped his face then threw down the towel and stomped down the stairs, Shelly's shrieking voice following him.

"There's nothing wrong with me, turd. Dad, Grandpa and Mom may be screwed up like you but there's nothing wrong with me!"

Stan rolled his eyes as he pulled out the TV tray in the living room. At least he could be semi-grateful that with the too many guests his parents invited over, he could eat in front of the TV with Grandpa and Shelly. With the way the night had been going, he could possibly hope he would get to choose what channel to watch, but not likely. At least from here, he could sneak eating a frozen TV dinner. Stan had settled himself on the couch and was carefully guarding the remote by hiding it in the couch cushion when his mother came up to him once again.

"No way, young man. We have not finished discussing what we are going to do with you. You're eating in the dining room, with the adults."

Stan, sick of arguing with pretty much everyone in the house, just shoved back his tray and took a seat at the table next to his uncle. He sulked in his chair as his father served everyone.

"Now I want all of you to tell me what you think! I went gourmet and exotic tonight."

Stan stared at the contents of his plate. His mother's classic mashed potatoes were dotted with bits of green: jalapenos soaked in vinegar. A scoop of what looked like grayish applesauce, but was actually a bunch of different vegetables that Stan had failed to peel correctly. Lying across the top half of the plate was a cooked top half of a duck, the head still attached. Stan declined his father's offer of trying it with the special sauce he had prepared to go with their meal. Stan watched the living room as his sister searched for the remote as his grandfather scolded her. He laughed to himself at the small bit of entertainment he was getting at his sisters expense as the adults talked amongst themselves. Ned and the nurse, their heads bent in conversation with each other with the occasional giggle at the other side of the table were getting distracting. Randy passed Stan a basket of garlic toast and Stan gratefully took a piece: at least there was something normal he could eat. He took a small bite. It was garlic-y and sweet. Goddammit.

"Well everybody, dig in!" Randy said and Stan looked in surprise as Nurse Goodly took the literal meaning, shoving her face in the plate as she ate. Shelly had found the remote so this turned into Stan's new source of entertainment. He has seen some similar eating behavior from his friend, Eric Cartman the time he had dinner at his house and Mrs. Cartman had made beefy log and cheesy potato surprise. Mrs. Cartman's cooking far surpassed what his father could come up with. Maybe Stan should be at least a bit grateful that there was never a need to overeat at his own house.

Stan was pondering all this when his mother spoke up and all the adults stopped talking to look at him. "Stanley, why aren't you eating?"

Stan looked at the duck head on his plate again. "I'm...not hungry."

"Oh I knew it! There is something wrong with my baby!"

"Mom, there's nothing wrong with me!"

Nurse Goodly looked up from her plate, jalapeno mashed potatoes on her face. "If I hadn't forgotten my prosthetic arms, I could examine him better, Sharon."

"Mmm I have my fake arm in Jimbo's truck, if you could use that."

"Oh, Ned, you are so sweet! That would be great!"

"Would you like to go out to the truck with me?"

"Yes I'd love you go out with you, Ned! Out to the truck, I would love to go out to the truck with you, Ned."

"Oh ho ho." Jimbo burst out laughing and then tried to cover it up by pretending to cough.

Nurse Goodly turned red and quickly wiped her face on a napkin on the table as Ned smirked over at Jimbo. Both quickly got up and left, out the back door.

The family continued to eat in silence at Sharon watched her son's every move. Stan had been poking his food with his fork but took another bite of the sweet garlic toast to satisfy her. The sound of his father cracking a fresh beer interrupted the silence.

"They're not coming back are they?"

"Knowing Ned, not likely. My truck is locked and he didn't even ask for my keys."Jimbo laughed as he jingled his keys, which had a rabbit's foot keychain attached to it.

Stan noticed the keychain and once again thought of the internet video. He had told Kyle to look up the address to the makeup factory and print out a map, but decided to look for himself as well, and also to get himself away from this ridiculous situation.

"Stanley you hardly touched your food! I know there had to be something wrong with you. I'm calling the doctor after dinner!"

"Mom, nothing is wrong with me. I'm not eating because of dad's cooking!"

Randy jumped up from the table. "Oh, what's wrong with my cooking now, Stanley?"

Stan spoke fast. "It's weird and gross and I hate the way this duck's head on my plate is looking at me!"

"Nothing wrong with that Stanley, it's how they did it on TV!"

"And you put sugar on the garlic bread dad!"

"That's how they do it in England!"

"What? No it's not dad!"

"Jimbo? Sharon? Back me up on this. Tell Stan he's crazy. There's nothing wrong with my dinner. There’s something wrong with him!"

"Randy, sit down! What we all mean, Stanley, is maybe you do have something wrong with your stomach. We're just concerned for your well being honey."

"Yeah, Stanley, your stomach is sensitive. There's nothing wrong with my cooking!"

Now it was Stan's turn to jump up at the table. "You know, I am really sick of every member of this family trying to convince me all evening that there's something horribly wrong with me! Sorry if I fade into the background but it's because I come from a family of freaks!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Stan noticed a small green light appear from the living room entrance. Shelly was standing there with a grin on her face holding her father's video camera, happily recording the entire scene and the punishment that was sure to come.

"Stan Marsh!" Randy shouted. "I have had it with you! You are grounded for two, no three weeks. No TV, no video games, no internet and no phone until you learn how to respect the members of this family! There's nothing wrong with us!"

Randy got up and marched up the stairs to Stan's room. If Stan couldn't use the phone he'd never get a hold of Wendy this weekend and she really would break up with him! He got up to follow his father and knocked over the gravy boat filled with the homemade duck blood sauce. It splattered all over his clothing and the carpet. Stan had avoided it for a reason; it looked bad and smelled even worse. Stan started to throw up again as he tripped on his way to his room. His sister laughed as she tried out the zooming feature on Randy's video camera. The sound of stuff being taken out of his bedroom could be heard from downstairs and Sharon stood over her son.

"Mom?"

"I'm calling the doctor now, Stanley. Just go take a shower."

“Mom I’m…fine.”

“Just do it, Stanley before we ground you for an entire month!”

Stan didn't want to get into any more trouble so he just got up and obeyed, the video camera following his every move.

"Shelly, no more video camera. Help me clean up this mess."

XxX

Stan took the quickest shower he could. After being called a pussy and the wrong name once again by his grandfather in the hall, he returned to his room to see the damage his grounding has caused. Usually with the lights off the on buttons from all of the electronics in Stan's room could be seen, but now it was extremely dark. Stan sighed as he flipped on the lights. His small TV, Xbox and Wii had been taken. At his desk the monitor, keyboard and mouse had been removed, oddly enough his dad had left the computer tower behind. The cordless phone on the night stand had been taken as well, even if the charger was still there.

With the only thing to do in Stan's bedroom being to actually sleep, he shut off the lights once again to take a nap. The one small glowing piece of technology left behind was his digital alarm clock. Stan grabbed it and set it for 11:45pm. He was to meet Kyle and Kenny by his clubhouse at midnight.
talostruus
Posts: 1
Joined: Fri Mar 05, 2010 5:38 pm

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby talostruus » Sun Mar 13, 2011 7:15 pm

dude this is pretty good. i've seen a few fanfics but this one is the only one that still has that unique south park humor we all obviously love. only one thing wrong: Stan isn't supposed to know about Kenny's ability to not die! the new Coon and Friends episodes kinda said that. He committed suicide 3 times in front of them- and was stabbed once- and they never remembered. But kickass fanfic! :zombiekenny:
Detectivesandyvagina
Posts: 41
Joined: Wed May 20, 2009 10:16 am

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby Detectivesandyvagina » Mon Apr 25, 2011 10:26 pm

A/n- Yeah dude I have to fix the first part sometime so it follows Mysterion Saga rules. Bleh.

Dinner at the Broflovski home had been uneventful that evening. Kyle had learned long ago to avoid the subjects of any moral outrage and the “what if”s of life and just enjoy his mother’s cooking if he didn’t want to start a fight. His mother had tucked him in hours ago, but at a quarter to midnight, Kyle walked the empty streets of his neighborhood towards Stan’s house. The snow that always seemed to lightly fall in South Park had picked up heavily that evening making visibility low. Kyle had grabbed his father’s industrial flashlight from the garage to make his trip a bit easier. He made it to the Marsh back yard and clicked the flashlight on and off to see if Stan would catch his signal in his room.

The light in Stan’s room flicked on and off back at him and after a moment Stan emerged out of the back door. Kyle rolled his eyes at what his best friend was wearing.

“Watch out, Stan Marsh is dressed in all black. He means serious business.”

“Shut up. I’ve had enough sh*t for one day. Unless you want me to start on your hat…or your hair.”

“Fine, fine. I just don’t see the point in going all incognito. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“You’re not wearing all black to go Goth again are you?”

“What? No! My regular clothes are in the wash so I threw these on. But any extra camouflage is good. I am grounded.”

“Good, because the way you were whining about Wendy in chat, I was getting worried. What did you get grounded for, dude?”

“For not believing my family’s bullsh*t.”

Kyle had bent down to scratch Stan’s dog behind the ears. He looked up at his obviously troubled best friend.

“It can’t be that bad can it? Are you okay?”

“Why does everybody keep asking that? Yes I’m fine. I’m still the same Stan nobody notices and I’m perfectly okay with that!”

“Jesus Christ, mellow out dude. I’m just trying to be a good friend.”

Just then Kenny entered the yard from the opposite direction. He had been in a pretty good mood that evening. His parents had started fighting during dinner and he and his brother had snagged the remaining pop tart off the plate and split it. Dinner and a show! His smile faltered a bit seeing his friend’s faces, not that anyone could see Kenny’s face through his hood or anything.

“Hey, dudes, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Stan said curtly.

Kyle had to roll his eyes again. “I think Stan’s mad no one is paying attention to him.”

“What? That’s not what I said at all, Kyle!”

Kenny laughed at his friend’s melodrama. “If you’re worried about attention from girls, I think you’re fine. My locker is next to Bebe’s and she and Wendy would not shut up about you after your dad took you home.”

Stan’s small burst of anger was replaced by self-doubt. “What were they saying about me?”

“Wendy was embarrassed for having to change clothes and ranting about how it’s all your fault and Bebe kept repeating over and over, ‘he’ll grow out of it, he’ll grow out of it.’”

“I really embarrassed Wendy out on the playground, didn’t I? Just how many people saw?”

Kyle was still playing with the dog. “I didn’t see anything. I wasn’t really paying attention though.”

“It’s the same bullsh*t that goes on every time Wendy tries to kiss you, it’s not that big of a deal, dude. Besides you have Wendy’s best friend defending you. Like Bebe said, you’ll grow out of it.”

“I’ll grow out of it? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kyle finally got up. “It means that one day, when you’re more mature, you won’t puke on Wendy when she tries to be affectionate. Enough of this now: I have the map ready, if you guys want to see it.”

“Pull it out in the clubhouse. I don’t want the map to get wet from the snow.”

Kenny started to giggle. “Can you imagine if Stan didn’t grow out of it? Wendy would try to give him a blowjob and he’d puke in her hair? She’d have to wear a shower cap or something.”

Kyle joined in on the laughter and Stan responded by grabbing Kenny by the hood and throwing him towards the club house’s direction. “Shut up and get up the ladder. We have animals to save!”

Kenny started up the ladder, still giggling and when he reached the top he let out an excited “Whoo hoo!” Kyle was right behind him and quickly clicked on his flashlight at something in the corner. Kenny had gotten an eyeful being the first up the ladder and Kyle had seen a bit but by the time Stan got up there Nurse Goodly had already shrugged her blouse back on. Ned sat up from behind her, his one arm reaching from behind to help her button the front of her shirt. Kyle looked away in horror, quickly shutting off the flashlight while Kenny continued to stare. Stan started to grow angry; even if Ned wasn’t related by blood to the Marshes, Stan was sick of everyone even associated with his family.

“What the hell, Ned! This is my clubhouse, we play up here!” Little did Stan know his parents would often do the exact same thing in their son’s clubhouse. It was one of the few things keeping their marriage together.

Nurse Goodly’s face was beet red as she shrugged on her jacket. “You won’t tell your parents about this will you, Stanley?”

Stan was about to respond when Ned interrupted him with his sexy yet mechanical voice. “Mmm, what are you kids doing out so late?”

“Nothing we were just…hanging out.” Kyle did his best to hide the map behind his back while Kenny just stared.

“Mmm I’ll cut a deal with you Stan. You don’t tell anyone about this and I’ll look the other way at what you boys are doing.”

Stan looked over at his friends and Kyle quickly nodded in agreement. “Okay, deal.”

Kenny continued to stare.

Ned smirked back at them, thinking he had gotten the sweet end of the deal. He finished putting on his clothes and climbed one handedly out of the clubhouse. Stan looked down with mild curiosity, to see how a woman with no arms would climb down. Rita jumped and Ned caught her easily. Stan thought it was a bit romantic in a freakish way but Kenny, and Kyle especially didn’t care. With the boobs gone, Kenny had snapped out of it and was holding the flashlight while Kyle smoothed the printed out map on the clubhouse floor.

Stan watched Ned and Rita escape out the fence door and then joined his friends in a circle, ready to get down to business. “The company is called Glimmer Corp and it’s hidden away in the back woods. The two closest landmarks are Stark’s Pond and Mephesto’s freaky laboratory. It’s way too far away to walk, so we’ll have to borrow my dad’s truck.” Stan pulled his dad’s truck keys out of his pocket. While Uncle Jimbo had a rabbit’s foot on his keys, Randy’s keychain was a bottle opener. Fitting.
Kenny spoke up. “Glimmer Corp? That’s a homosexual name.”

“A homosexual name for a company that makes useless products at the expense of hurting animals!”

Kyle sighed at Stan’s remark. “I did a bit of research on the company after you stopped responding. They not only manufacture makeup but soap and shampoo as well. Stuff we probably all use every day.”

Stan looked down at his hands and clothes with a horrified expression. “Oh God, I bet I just used some of that stuff, I took a shower a few hours ago!”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “So what, Stan? You’re not going to take showers now or something?”

“Then Wendy really won’t like you anymore.” Kenny smirked.

“No! Just, knowing I used some of those products.”

“Look, Stan, it’s like the veal issue again. I was in that time to save baby cows from ever having a chance at life like I’m in this mission to save cats, dogs and rabbits from having makeup tested on them. Animal testing is necessary sometimes, for medical research. Your life may be saved by it one day.”

“I still don’t like it, Kyle.”

Kenny gave his friends a quizzical look, “You guys tried to save baby cows? Is that why the name changed after I... never mind.”

Stan snorted, “Yeah, dude, you didn’t remember us doing that? You were probably asleep again.”

Kenny just crossed his arms and grumbled to himself as Kyle pulled out a picture of the Glimmer Corp building he had gotten off the Internet, “Here it is, dudes. It looks like a bitch to get inside.”

Stan picked up the picture and examined it, “We’ll just have to go in through the roof, like last time. Just one problem.”

“What?” Kenny said.

“We’re going to have to get someone to help us that owns a Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set.”

Kyle groaned, “You mean Cartman? We’re going to have to ask Cartman to help us rescue animals? We might as well give up now.”

“We’re not giving up! And besides I might get him to agree somehow.” Stan jingled his dad’s car keys,

“Come on, lets go.”

After making sure the coast was clear for Ned and Rita, Stan unlocked his dad’s truck and Kenny took his position on the floor to work the pedals.
Kenny and Stan were getting quite good at driving Randy’s truck together since they started doing it two years ago. The summer before third grade, Stan had been stuck inside his house all day with no one but Grandpa to watch him. Bored and hungry, Stan kept bothering his grandfather to take him to go eat and out of sheer frustration and no motivation to live, Marvin shoved his car keys and twenty bucks into Billy’s hand and told him if he wanted pizza so badly, he could go get it himself. Stan ran down to the friend’s house which was closest to his and the two little boys spent the afternoon shakily learning to drive Marvin’s blue Impala at a snail’s pace until they made it to Whistling Willies where they spent the afternoon having fun. Since then they often took joy rides, usually inviting Kyle along. Kyle refused to have any part in the actual driving, saying it was unsafe for Kenny to be on the floor like that. Stan always insisted he steer since it was always his family’s vehicles they ‘borrowed’.

Kyle climbed into the passenger’s seat and clicked his seat belt into place. Stan, as the driver, had to lean forward on his knees to see over the steering wheel. He started the truck and turned on the windshield wipers full blast to combat the rapidly falling snow. Kenny took his position sitting cross legged on the floor, carefully pressing the gas pedal as Stan tried to back the truck out of the driveway, turning the wheel all the way to the left, causing the truck’s back wheel to hop the curb.

“Brake, Kenny! Brake!”

Kenny pressed the brake and Stan put the truck in drive and turned the wheel the other way straightening it out as the boys headed towards Cartman’s house.

Kyle looked at the back window. “You guys are getting better at backing up: you didn’t even hit the neighbor’s trashcan, like last time.”

“Yeah, I can drive almost perfectly if we just keep going in a straight line, and my dad hasn’t caught on yet either.”

“That’s because you just have to hold the wheel, Stan. I’m the one down here doing all the work.”

“And you do a good job, dude. We’re there alrea-BRAKE KENNY BRAKE!”

Kenny slammed on the brake again but with the road becoming icy the car skidded a bit, going past Cartman’s house and taking out their neighbor’s trashcan.

“I take back what I said.” Kyle’s hands were gripped tightly around his seatbelt.

“You have to give me more warning than that, Stan!”

“Sorry! We’ve never driven on roads this icy. I heard my mom telling my dad to go slower than normal. Don’t press the gas so hard, Kenny!”

Stan parked the car and the three boys got out. Judging by the glow coming from the window by the front door, the TV was still on. The boys peeked through the window and could see the pause screen from Call Of Duty: Black Ops, with Cartman dozing in front of the TV, Xbox controller still in hand. Stan knocked softly on the glass.

“Psst, Cartman? Cartman, wake up.”

Cartman rolled over on the couch and started thrashing wildly in his sleep and mumbling incoherently. Kyle knocked on the front door and shook the door handle.

“Wake up, fatass!”

Cartman threw his controller clear across the room, ripping his headset off and sat up quickly, looking over at the window. He saw Stan in the window and could hear Kyle shouting. God, he hated those guys he hung out with, but they had just woken him up from a nightmare. He could at least give them the pleasure of saying no to whatever they wanted. Besides, any chance to piss off Kyle would at least amuse Cartman more than the crappy game he was playing.

He got up and unlocked the door, “What?”

Kenny giggled at him, “What the hell was wrong with you back there?”

“I was having a horrible nightmare about hippie Jews on welfare, so it makes perfect sense you three assh*les show up. What do you want?”

Stan cut right to the chase, “Cartman we need your help.”

“No.”

“But you don’t even know what we’re asking for yet!”

“Fine, tell me what you want and I can say no again.”

“We need your Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set.”

“Oh Christ, that toy is only fun because when you guys ask to use it I can say no. No Stan.”

“But we have innocent animals to save!”

“I don’t care. You know what? I had little tortured baby cow for dinner tonight, Stan! The new name just makes it funny on top of it being delicious.”

Both Stan and Kenny looked horrified and both held Kyle back as he lunged at Cartman.

“You are the biggest piece of sh*t! Stan wants to save dogs, rabbits and cats. Cats, fatass! You have a cat, or did you eat that for dinner as well?”
Cartman glared at all three of them as he started to close the front door. Stan pushed Kyle back and stuck his foot in the door.

“Kenny, please take Kyle to cool off.”

“I can go on my own Stan!” Kyle stomped off towards the car and Kenny shrugged and followed.
Stan looked back to see a small twitch of a smile on Cartman’s lips as he watched Kyle stomp around in circles, ranting at Kenny.

“We can negotiate, can’t we?”

“Stan, you know I hate you least of all. I’m willing to
negotiate, maybe even give you my Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set if the price is right.”

Oh boy. “I don’t have any money.”

Cartman stepped out of his house and placed a hand on Stan’s shoulder. They both watched as Kyle grabbed a stick and starting smacking the trunk of the tree in Cartman’s front yard. Kenny kept trying to talk to him while trying to avoid being hit at the same time.

“No money needed. I’ll give you my Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set and you don’t have to do anything at all.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow at Cartman. “I don’t have to do anything?”

“Kahl on the other hand…”

“Here we go.”

“It’s nothing bad, Stan. I just think with Kyle’s severe attitude problem, a night of readjustment might do him some good. Just look at him: he’s awfully angry isn’t he?”

Across the yard, Kenny gave up trying to talk to Kyle and grabbed hold of the stick, trying to pull it away from him. Kyle continued to rant and curse as the boys played tug of war.

“Because you made him that angry, fatass.”

“There we go with the insults again, Stan. I would like for just one day for you guys, my friends, to only say positive things to me.”

Stan frowned and stepped away from Cartman. “I’m nice to you, well…most of the time.”

“Which is why I’d love to help you with your little cat and dog problem. You do need my Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set, right?”

“Yeah. But what do you want? Kyle to be nice to you?”

“I don’t want to hear Kahl speak, unless it’s a direct and honest complement on how kewl I am.”

“You want honest comments from Kyle on your good points? I don’t think that’s possible from either of you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t go for it, Stan, you pussy. I didn’t want to give up my awesome Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set anyway. It’s too much fun having it when I know you really want it.”

Cartman laughed and started to shut his door again when Stan stopped him. “Wait, I’ll at least talk to Kyle. Just go get it, okay?”

Cartman simply smiled and shut the door in Stan’s face. Stan took a deep breath and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose in preparation with now having to deal with Kyle and his famous temper. He was well aware that none of his friends really gave half a f*ck about animals as he did but they had to at least help because they cared about HIM, right? His family was a lost cause but he could at least count on his friends, right? He probably should have taken Kyle’s half-joking suggestion of inviting Wendy to help them out. The fighting might have been worse but she would at least whip them into shape.

Stan watched Kenny and Kyle struggle back and forth, each pulling one end of the stick. Kenny finally let go, causing Kyle to fall forward. Kenny took this opportunity to pin his friend down by sitting on his back. He grabbed Kyle by the back of his hair and shoved his face into the snow, Kyle’s ranting quickly being muffled. It was the perfect way to curb Kyle’s anger, treat him like a seizure victim.

Stan approached the two. “Jesus, Kenny, where did you learn to do that?”

“My parents and pro wrestling. Maybe my parents watching too much pro wrestling. Or most likely my parents getting too drunk while watching pro wrestling. All of the above?”

“Okay I’m calm now, Kenny, you can let me go now!”

“No! Kenny, keep him pinned for a bit. Cartman will let me keep the Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set if Kyle does something for the rest of the night.”

Meanwhile Cartman was up in his room, watching the scene from his window. Only when he heard Kyle yell “WHAT?” and struggle to get up, as Kenny and Stan held him down, did Cartman look in his closet for the box to the Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set. With all of Kyle’s yelling, Cartman was glad his mom stopped answering knocks at her door by 9pm. After cooking dinner, she had gone into her room with some guy to help her do her taxes, or so she said. Cartman knew it was probably bullsh*t but she left him alone to play Xbox as long as he liked. She just better be up at the crack of dawn to make him pancakes AND waffles with all the fixings and let him choose like she did every Saturday morning.

Cartman came downstairs with the box in his hand to be met with a glaring Kyle held firmly in place between Stan and Kenny.

“Did he agree, Stan?”

“Yeah, he did.”

Cartman placed the box in Stan’s hands, “It was excellent doing business with you gentlemen.”

“Can we just go?” Kyle grumbled.

“Kahl?”

“Can we go…you have nice shoes, fa-Cartman.”

“Why thank you, Kahl, my meem got them for me.”

Kyle rolled his eyes and made a dramatic show of getting into the truck. Cartman got in as well, shoving Kyle to the side, taking up the passenger’s seat and Stan and Kenny took their position in the driver’s seat, Stan starting up the truck again.

“Now, Kenny, press the gas slowly. I want to go all the way up Bonanza Street and take Sundance Street all the way into the woods.” Stan instructed.

“Why take the long way dude?”

“Whose bright idea was it to name all the streets in South Park after western stuff?”

“Not where I live, Cartman, all the street names are in Spanish over there.”

“Well of course I don’t count that area, Kinny. It was probably an awesome idea to name all the streets in the ghetto in a foreign language to confuse all the alcoholics hanging around there, hoping they’d get lost and freeze out in the snow.”

“f*ck you! Kyle, hit Cartman for me please!”

Kyle swiftly punched Cartman in the back of the head but kept silent.

“Ay! Watch it, Kahl! You have to be nice to me! Stan said so.”

All eyes turned to Stan whose eyes were glued to the window on the driver’s side of the car. “Can you slow down even more on this street, Kenny? For the weather?”

Kenny obeyed but Kyle had to speak up. “Stan, doesn’t Wendy live on Sundance Street?”

“Ay!”

“Doesn’t Wendy live on Sundance Street? Cartman I like your…hat.”

“Kahl, if you want to be able to talk and let Stan keep my Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set, you’re going to have to come up with better complements than that.”

Kyle considered punching Cartman again but just crossed his arms and looked over at Stan, whose eyes were glued to the window.

“Yeah, this is Wendy’s street. All the lights off are in her house. She must be asleep.”

“Of course Stan’s stupid girlfriend lives on the one street named after that lame hippie film festival.”

“Oh God. I’m going to speed up then, Stan.” Kenny pressed the gas as the boys sped up on the rest of the street.

“The Sundance Film Festival was mine and Wendy’s first date.”

“What are you gonna throw up in the car, Stan?” Cartman laughed.

“You better not! I’m down here helping you drive, assh*le.”

“What if it’s over between us again?”

Kyle had to choose his next words carefully, not only to comply with Cartman, but not to make Stan the mess he was last time he and Wendy broke up. Stan could be such a f*cking idiot when it came to his girlfriend but Kyle never liked seeing his best friend depressed.

“You know, Stan, you can’t define your entire self on whether you’re dating Wendy or not. We spend a lot more time with you and know you so much better than she does. Think about it, Stan we’re about to save some animals because of you. You care more than the average person…”

“Kahl?”

Kyle turned to Cartman and gave him a deadpan stare. “And, Cartman, your intellect can only be surpassed by your waistline.”

“See, Kahl? Complements aren’t that hard to come up with.”

At that Kenny stated to laugh uncontrollably while Kyle just smirked. Cartman seemed genuinely pleased at Kyle’s complement as Stan ignored them all, hearing that term to describe him again. Average was becoming a dirty word to him.

“I’m above average at caring?”

“See, Stan? When Wendy dumps you, Kahl will be right there to take her place!”

“f*ck you, fatass, I like your shoe..laces!”

“Kahl, the point of my deal with Stan was to either have you be genuinely nice to me or not say anything at all, so shut the f*ck up, you stupid jew.”

Kyle’s mouth hung open for a bit but he looked over at Stan again and kept from lashing out at Cartman. Stan’s behavior was really starting to worry him. Cartman laughed and leaned over to switch on the radio, starting to sing at the top of his lungs to Katy Perry’s latest hit. Kyle looked like he was about to explode from anger and Kenny held back from telling Cartman just how gay he looked singing pop songs all about pleasing men. Stan continued to ignore his friends, blue eyes fixed on the road, that annoying word running though his mind. Average, average, average.

After taking the long way to the Glimmer Corp building that really was just an excuse to go by Wendy’s house, the truck finally arrived at its destination.

“Cartman, you can’t make a song featuring Kanye West any worse than it already was!”

“Kahl, you should sing along with Kanye West’s part since you don’t have a sense of humor either.”

“WHAT? Brake, Kenny, Brake right now!”

Kenny slammed on the break as Stan tried to put the truck in park while the wheels still spun, causing the gears of the truck make an ugly screeching sound on the icy road and all four boys to fly forward a bit. Kyle and Cartman held in place by their belts, Stan braced himself against the steering wheel while Kenny slid forward, falling against the pedals and smacking his head on the dash board. Finally, the truck came to a complete stop.

“Goddamnit, Stan, stop thinking so much and watch the f*cking road!”

“Sorry! You okay Kenny?”

“Kenny rubbed his head. “Yeah I’ll survive. I always do.” He said darkly.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Don’t worry, Stan, this is your dad’s truck. I’m sure you’re doing just as good of a job driving as when he’s had three or four beers, which is pretty much all the time. Heh heh.”

“At least my dad’s still alive, fatass. He bugs me but I know I’ll never accidentally kill him, or was that on purpose?”

The subject of Cartman’s father’s death was kind of a touchy subject. Cartman had convinced himself it wasn’t actually his fault at all. It was really the ginger kid’s faults and possibly the Jews as well. Sneaky Jews always were responsible for something. Cartman quickly covered up his touch of insecurity by ripping on someone who fit perfectly into both of those terrible categories.

“Yeah, Stan, but I’d die if I had any of your parents. Especially Kahl’s. All of you assh*les have super embarrassing dads but Kahl’s has the bitch day-walker mom as well!”

Kyle made a half gurgley half screechy sound in his throat. He didn’t want Stan to lose the Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set so he shoved his best friend against the steering wheel again in a frantic attempt to get out of the truck and away from Cartman. He stomped off into the blizzard until he was no longer visible.

“Well, it looks like Kahl’s ready for this stupid little mission. Lets get this gayness over with.” Cartman grabbed the Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set’s box and handed it over to Stan who was frowning at him. “Oh what now, Stan? Okay, this mission isn’t gay if you’re into that hippie bull crap, okay?”

“You know, Kyle didn’t want you to come along but I needed your help. Can you not be such a dick, at least for mine and Kenny’s sakes?”

Kenny raised his hand. “I’m on Kyle’s side in this argument you two have.”

“Okay, so basically you’re here, fatass, because of me. Kenny and Kyle both hate you: pretty much everyone we know does. The only reason you still hang out in this group is I still make an effort to include you. So for f*ck’s sake, tone down the fighting for one night. I have enough on my mind as it is.”

Stan didn’t give Cartman or Kenny a chance to respond. He grabbed the box and jumped out of the truck. Slamming the door shut behind him, he went to go look for Kyle out in the snowstorm.
Detectivesandyvagina
Posts: 41
Joined: Wed May 20, 2009 10:16 am

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby Detectivesandyvagina » Tue Oct 04, 2011 4:20 am

Stan walked along the side of the Glimmer Corp building, his eyes scanning through the snow storm for something green, orange and possibly shouting and destroying property. Instead he found Kyle staring up the side of the building.

"You're calm." Stan said with surprise.

"Yeah, I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. I'll try to keep my mouth shut the rest of the night. Besides, dude."

"Besides what?

"If I keep quiet and you do actually get to keep the Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set, we'll never have to ask him for it again or be forced to invite him along when we do stuff like this. Also I'm pretty sure he uses the set to sneak into my room at night and if I can do ANYTHING to prevent that happening ever again I'll do it."

Stan smiled. "Thanks dude, I owe you, and I will put the set to better use that just f*cking with you."

"You'll just use it to f*ck with people that deserve it."

"Yep!" Stan set down the box and started going through it, "I do have a question for you, Kyle. Why didn't you want to help me save dolphins and whales last time?"

Kyle thought for a minute for a good response when they were joined by Kenny and Cartman. Kyle quickly clammed up again.

"Hey, Kahl, you rushed off in such a hurry you forgot your flashlight." Cartman had his fake angelic smile as he shoved the industrial flashlight into Kyle's hand. Kyle held his tongue.

"Kahl, aren't you gonna thank me?"

Kyle examined the flashlight in his hand: it was long, heavy and solid, could make a good weapon if needed. "Thank you Cartman, that was…very nice of you."

"And?"

"And nothing."

"No complement, Kahl? Fine, I didn't want to hear your annoying voice anyway."

Kyle gritted his teeth, his hands tightening around the flashlight. It would make a very good weapon indeed. Kyle looked at his other two friends. Kenny was watching him and Cartman expectantly. Stan was ignoring them however, laying out and setting up all the items in the Mission Impossible: Breaking and Entering Play Set. Stan wanted to do so much good with that set, while Cartman would just continue to use it for evil. Kyle took a deep breath, deciding to bite the bullet and blatantly lie to keep Cartman happy. If Kyle was overly nice, maybe Cartman would lose interest and leave him alone.

Kyle mimicked Cartman's sugary sweet smile. "Thank you, Cartman for bringing me my flashlight. You're always so thoughtful. Looking out for me and stuff."

Cartman looked baffled. "Is this some kind of sneaky Jew double bluff?"

"Whatever do you mean, Cartman?"

"I'll get you, Kahl!"

"I'd love to see you try." Kyle smirked as he swung his flashlight like a baseball bat.

Kenny laughed at both of them and shook his head as he went over to see what Stan was doing. Stan had been watching the entire scene out of the corner of his eye while securing a harness around his waist. He grabbed the first piece of the set, a grappling hook attached to a gun, to launch it. Stan shut one eye, taking aim at the roof and fired, the grappling hook gripped the railing on the building's roof. Stan tugged the rope to make sure it was taught and tied the other end of the rope into a sharp metal stake, using the double knot technique his Uncle Jimbo had taught him on one of their many camping trips. Stan recalled, with some annoyance, his uncle calling him soft earlier as he drove the stake into the ground with one foot.

"I'll show you who's soft…dick."

"What was that about soft dicks?" said Kenny, smirking.

"Nothing…here." Stan shoved the blow torch into Kenny's hands and took the rappelling set for himself. "You can climb this rope easily, right, Kenny?"

Kenny looked at the rope and up at the two story building. "It's awfully high isn't it dude? You don't have another harness do you?"

"Here, you can have mine. You're the only one cooperating with me today anyway." Stan quickly unsnapped himself from the harness and handed it over to Kenny, who took it gratefully.

"Thanks, that was really nice of you. I'm just afraid of falling."

"You won't Kenny. I made sure the rope was secure. You just haven't done this before right, when we rescued the baby cows?"

Kenny was busy strapping on the harness and attaching it to the rope when he froze. Stan never remembered his deaths, did he?

"I just don't want to fall. Falling would hurt a lot, it might even kill me Stan." Kenny gave his friend a hard look, sending mental vibes: remember, remember dammit. Stan just looked confused.

"I'll uh, stay down here and hold the rope for you?"

"Whatever, dude." Kenny shoved the blow torch under his hoodie so it was secure and climbed hand over hand up the rope until he reached the roof.

Stan was a bit unnerved at Kenny's attitude change and made a mental note to ask him about it later on, right now Stan had bigger problems to solve, one at a time. He now had to deal with his other two friends. Kyle kept his creepy fake smile on while Cartman continued to try and bait him, glaring the entire time. They had switched roles. If Stan was to get to the bottom of Kenny's bouts of emoness, he would also have to address just how annoying Kyle and Cartman's constant fighting was to the rest of the group. Stan knew Cartman didn't really give a f*ck but maybe he could get through to Kyle. Kyle was supposed to know better, wasn't he?

"Your turn, Kyle. Up the rope."

Kyle wordlessly obeyed, tucked the flashlight under his jacket and grabbed the rope, climbing quickly.

Cartman joined Stan at the base of the rope. "Yeah, Kinny might be a wuss, all afraid of falling. Let's see if Kahl is braver."

Kyle was almost at the top as Cartman took the end of the rope and shook it hard. Kyle clung to for dear life. Kenny reached over the railing to grab Kyle's hand and pulled his friend to safety just as Stan pushed Cartman away from the rope.

"Stop that right now!"

"Stan, I was just holding the rope for Kahl, like you were for Kinny, It's not my fault Jews don't have a good sense of balance."

Stan nosebridgepinched. "Just get up there. I'm not going to help you face Kyle and whatever he's going to do to you."

"Now, Stan, you told him to be nice to me."

"Yeah I did. Stupid me. Now get up there."

With a bit of difficulty, Cartman climbed the rope to the top and got onto the roof. Stan quickly followed up the rope and barely got over the edge of the roof to see a large metal object fly by his head and down the side of the building. Kenny had fired up the blowtorch and had been cutting a hole in the side of the building when Kyle ripped it out of Kenny's hand to throw at Cartman's head.

"You son of a bitch, you tried to kill me!"

"Nuh-uh, Kahl, I was trying to help you, since you were being so nice!"

"I was only PRETENDING to be nice to you because of Stan, but f*ck you!"

"That's fine! Stan can't keep my Mission Impossible Breaking And Entering Play Set now. This is what I wanted all along!"

Stan was busy unhooking the grappling hook and threw back down to the ground for easy retrieval later. "Nice going Kyle. You couldn't hold back twenty more minutes?"

"How's this my fault, Stan?"

"Kahl's a sneaky Jew, Stan. He went back on his word!"

"Will both of you shut the f*ck up and think of the animals instead of yourselves? f*ck!"

"The animals? I only came along to piss off Kahl!"

Kyle launched himself at Cartman, shoving him roughly and screaming in his face. Stan rolled his eyes and went to observe the partial hole Kenny had cut into the roof.

"I'm not breaking them up again."

"Let them fight, Kenny. It's what they're best at anyway. I think with the weight between us maybe we can kick in, make the hole big enough for all of us to squeeze through."

Stan took the rappelling set and tied one end of the rope to an air vent, using the double knot technique again. Kenny took one end of the rope and carefully reattached his harness to it. Both boys held onto the rope as they tried to kick in the weak part of the roof Kenny had already cut. The metal finally gave way. Stan stepped back quickly but Kenny fell through the hole, the harness around his waist catching him in mid fall.

Stan looked down and called after his friend. "You okay Kenny?"

Kenny had shut his eyes, his gloved hands gripping the rope in terror. He slowly opened one eye, only mildly surprised he was not seeing the caverns of Hell but the walls of the Glimmer Corp office. He carefully unsnapped his harness and jumped down, knocking over all the contents on a desk.

"I'm fine, Stan, the coast seems to be clear. Pull Cartman and Kyle apart and get in here. I need a flashlight."

Glimmer Corp had a large lighted sign on top of the building and right now Kyle had backed Cartman against the back of it, holding the flashlight against Cartman's throat and yelling in his face. "I should throw you off the side of this building but I'm not a sociopathic assh*le like you!"

Stan casually tapped Kyle on the shoulder. "Kenny needs the flashlight dude."

Kyle released Cartman and stomped off towards the hole in the roof.

"Did you see what Kahl did to me, Stan?" Cartman cried.

"Serves you right, fatass. Come on, let's go."

Kyle had dropped the flashlight down to Kenny and climbed down the rope into the office. Kenny busied himself looking for a light switch as Stan and a still sniffling Cartman followed down. Kenny located the switch in the small office and suddenly the outer room was flooded with light. Stan had tried to mentally prepare himself to see tons of mistreated animals but the other room held nothing but vats of chemicals used to mix the makeup products, the majority of the chemicals glittery.

"The animals must be downstairs. Kyle and I will go check it out, Kenny stay here with Cartman so they're separate."

"Fine with me." Kyle said, stomping out of the office. Stan simply shrugged and followed his best friend, leaving Kenny alone with Cartman.

"Kahl's such a dick. Can you believe that assh*le tried to choke me?"

"I heard it. You really did deserve it though. I'm shocked Kyle put up with your little game for an entire half an hour."

Cartman just crossed his arms and continued to sulk. Kenny observed the computer that he'd knocked over when he fell.

"I know something we could do that may make you feel better." Kenny said, with a mischievous grin.

Kyle kept his fists clenched as he located some stairs in the back, stomping down them so his footsteps echoed in the empty building. Stan listened carefully to see if there were any signs of life down stairs, he found himself and Kyle at the end of a long hall with many doors. He carefully walked down the hall shining the flashlight that he had snagged from Kenny into each room.

"Help me find the animals, Kyle."

"f*cking fatass, telling me I went back on my word! What a hypocritical assh*le! Can you believe him?"

"Kyle! Animals! Shut up about Cartman!"

"Oh right." Kyle took the right side of the hall while Stan took the left. "But he didn't let you keep the Mission Impossible Breaking and Entering Play Set. Doesn't that piss you off?"

"While I don't agree with him shaking the rope while you were trying to climb it, I do think it's half your fault for being over the top with him. I was half expecting to lose the set before the end of the night anyway but at least we got to use it long enough to get us this far."

At the very end of the hall Stan's beam of light shone through a glass window, the sounds of cages could be heard rattling. Stan's hand went to the door handle. It was locked. He stood on tip toes to peek through the glass; this had to be the animal testing room.

"You knew you would lose the set? You set me up, Stan!"

"I didn't set you up. Maybe I used both of you a bit to get Cartman to go along with it. Kenny and I expect you two to fight, it's nothing new these days."

Stan observed the door lock, seeing only a key card would open it.

"I'm sorry that's all I'm good for then. The one who has to fight Cartman."

"At least you're known for something, Kyle."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, you didn't see any key cards in the upstairs office did you?"

"Not that I remember."

Stan knocked softly on the glass and heard the sound of something small and alive scuffling around in what sounded like cages. This was definitely the animal testing room. Stan looked to the front of the hall at the front door.

"Kyle, check out the front door. It seems to be hooked up to some kind of alarm. Is there any way to disarm it?"

Kyle went to check. "Not that I can see. It seems the only way to get out from the bottom floor."

"Christ. Let me think. What if we set free all these animals and shooed them out the front door? We would probably have enough time for all of us to get to the truck and get away before anyone busts us."

"Good plan, dude. Only problem is that Cartman's fat ass might slow us down as we run to the truck."

"Kyle! Let it go with Cartman! I get that you two hate each other. Jesus, you would murder me if I talked about Wendy half as much as you talk about Cartman."

"Don't compare you whining about Wendy to me complaining about Cartman."

"I'm starting to not really see a difference, other than I LOVE Wendy."

"I-" Kyle sputtered.

"Actually I don't talk about how much I LOVE Wendy as much as you talk about how much you HATE Cartman." Stan smacked the glass on the door again, making the animals inside start to make noise and move around.

Kyle went to stand next to Stan at the door. "I'm sorry, don't be like that. You can talk about your problems with Wendy to me. I'm here for you, dude."

"I don't have problems with her. Right now my problem is how the f*ck are we going to get in there with no key card."

"I feel bad that my fighting with Cartman is annoying you. He just pisses me off so much."

"Well I guess we'll just put some of your pent up anger to good use. Kyle you're going to have to break this glass. Don't let any of it get into the animal's cages though."

"What? You want me to punch through the glass?" Kyle just looked at his best friend skeptically.

"Yeah punch it. Pretend the window is Cartman's face. Do it, you'll feel better and it'll help me out."

"I'm not using my hand to break glass, Stan! That's crazy, what if I cut myself?" Kyle held his green gloved hand in front of Stan's face.

"Goddamnit, Kyle." It was Stan's fist that made contact with the glass, punching over and over until little cracks appeared in the window. The racket Stan was making was making the animals scramble around their cages, eventually the glass shattered in the shape of a hole slightly bigger than the size of Stan's fist. Stan shoved his arm through the hole and unlocked the door from the inside.

Kyle started wide eyed at what Stan just did. "You okay, Stan?"

"I already cut myself once today, nothing worse can happen and if it does I'm not afraid."

"You cut yourself? Stan? Stan?"

Stan rolled his eyes and opened the door, he bent down to scoop up the broken glass and threw it in a trash can. "Just help me, Kyle!"

Kyle flicked on the light switch and both boys faced two long rows of cages. Stan immediately turned to the first row of cages and opened it, pulling out a rabbit and carefully placing it on the floor. The animal cages closest to Kyle held a cat, Kyle got to work opening them up. The thought of cats reminded Kyle of Cartman again. "In all honesty, Stan you can talk to be about Wendy. I won't make fun of you and try to help you. You can trust me."

Stan had his back turned, freeing even more rabbits. He turned around holding the last rabbit to his chest, stroking its head with one finger and looking at it carefully. "Some of these rabbits have blisters on their faces, this one is really bad. I think I'll take this one home with me and take it by the vet tomorrow. They won't ask questions, I hope."

"And what about Wendy?"

Stan held the rabbit up to his face, observing the damage, it seemed he was talking more to his new animal companion than Kyle himself. "The only think I will say about Wendy is sometimes she's super lovey dovey and sometimes she's pissed off at me for no reason. My parents are the same way, I'm pretty sure everyone goes through phases like that. The anger I can handle, I just know not to do what my dad does to my mom. The only thing that bugs me is the lovely dovey side of Wendy would be a lot more enjoyable if I would stop f*cking puking on her!"

Kyle listened to the entire thing as he went down the row of cages, releasing a bunch of cats. "So is this why we're doing all this? You want word to get back to Wendy so you look all heroic and sh*t?"

Stan had put the rabbit in his pocket and was continuing releasing all the rabbits down the row of cages. "It's not just for Wendy. The animals really needed my help."

"Yeah, you're doing a good thing, Stan." Kyle had reached the end of his row and spied something interesting on top of a desk, a Polaroid camera. Kyle grabbed the camera and joined Stan who seemed to be stuck at the last cage.

"Look." Stan half whispered. "I think he's dying." Inside the cage in the very back was a piglet lying on its side and breathing heavily. "I'm definitely taking this pig back with us."

Stan was busy unlocking the cage latch and carefully picked up the pig.

"Hey Stan, smile." Stan turned as Kyle took his picture, the pig in his arms. Kyle laughed as he waved the photo back and fourth waiting for it to develop. "Now you have something to give to Wendy as proof you were heroic."

"Maybe I will. Thanks, dude. Here, take the rabbit."

Kyle took the rabbit in his hand as he showed the picture to Stan. "You didn't smile."

"You surprised me, I wasn't ready. Also now I'm worried this company has some kind of deal with a nearby farm, I didn't except to see live stock here. Maybe the little tortured baby cow farm lost money and this is how they're making it up."

Kyle stuck the Polaroid in his front jacket pocket. "If we had the Mission Impossible Breaking And Entering Play Set we could investigate that."

Stan sighed as he picked up the pig and headed towards the exit. "Speaking of Cartman, I assume you don't want to see him, so herd the rest of these animals towards the front door while I get him and Kenny."

Kyle obeyed by busying himself picking up the rabbits that were now hopping around the laboratory floor. Stan held the sick pig as he made his way down the hall and back up the stairs where he left Kenny and Cartman. He pushed open the door with his shoulder and noticed there was sparkly liquid spilled all over the floor.

"Do that one, Kinny!"

Kenny had a broom in his hand going down his own row knocking over vat and vat of ingredients to manufacture makeup off a shelf, spilling the contents and adding to the mess on the floor. Both he and Cartman were laughing hysterically.

"Your turn,Cartman!"

Cartman, with a mop in his hand, shoved a tub off the highest shelf, a large cloud of purple shimmer powder came up, partially covering him.

Kenny laughed even harder. "You're all purple now, fatass! Oh hi, Stan. You set free all the animals already?"

"We did, the only thing is we have to let them all escape out the front door which will probably set off the alarm, so we have to be quick."

Cartman joined them, trying to beat the purple powder out of his coat. "Uh I don't wanna play anymore, Kinny. What's with the pig, Stan?"

"He's sick, Cartman, I was going to take him back with us so I can take him to the vet tomorrow along with a rabbit."

"Oh, I thought that was going to be your new girlfriend."

"Nice to see you got your attitude back with your time spent away from Kyle. Now get downstairs before I kick you in the balls while still holding a sick pig."

"You are such a pussy, Stan, can't take a joke." Cartman obeyed, starting down the stairs while still trying to get the powder off his jacket.

"You coming, Kenny?"

"One second." Kenny did one last run of the shelf, using his broom to knock all the remaining tubs off the shelf, different liquids spilling all over the floor. Kenny tossed the boom to the side and joined his friends on the stairs.

Downstairs Kyle had his hands full, trying to hold as many rabbits as he could while trying to round up a bunch of cats as well. He was in the corner next to the front door trying to shoo a cat from taking a swipe at one of the rabbits. "Guys, help me!"

Kenny quickly rushed over and picked up the remaining rabbit in his free hand, Cartman picked up the cat and patted him on the head. Cats were some of Cartman's favorite animals. He held out the cat to the rabbits Kyle was holding, hoping it'd take another swipe.

"Stop that! Do you need me to kick your ass again after I let these rabbits go?"

"I'd like to see you try, Jew!"

"Did I not just kick your ass less than twenty minutes ago?"

"You just had an unfair advantage."

"What, that I'm not hideously obese?"

"Ay!"

"Will you guys shut the f*ck up and sort yourselves out?"

While Kyle and Cartman had gotten into yet another mini screaming match in the middle of the hall, Kenny had gathered the rest of the animals and Stan had his free hand on the door, just waiting.

"I'm sorry, Stan!" Kyle held the wriggling rabbits tighter as he went to the exit. Cartman retrieved the flashlight Kyle left behind and picked it up. He'd teach that stupid Jew a lesson.

"It's okay, Kyle. All of you be ready to run, on the count of three. One… two… three." Stan unlocked the door and pushed it open as the boys stepped out into the blizzard. Stan was expecting some kind of alarm to go off but it remained quiet. Kyle and Kenny ran through the storm and letting the animals they were holding go at the edge of the forest. With a bit of sadness, Cartman let go of the awesome cat that was pissing off Kyle so much, but kept the flashlight in his hand. Stan held back, herding the rest of the animals out of the building. He had just gotten them all out, when the yellow safety light on the outside turned red and a bell went off.

"Get to the truck! The cops will be here soon!" Stan shouted as he one handedly held the pig over his shoulder while getting hold of the truck keys that were in his pocket.

Kenny and Kyle both took off running to meet Stan at the truck, Kyle cursing himself at the last minute as he snapped on his seat belt. "I let the rabbit you wanted to keep go, Stan." He said as he climbed into the truck.

"Dammit Kyle, I wanted to keep him." Stan climbed in and put the pig sitting next to him on the driver's side and quickly turned on the truck.

Meanwhile, Cartman was cursing even more, running around the front of the building gathering the abandoned pieces of his Mission Impossible Breaking and Entering Play Set.

"Just leave it, fatass!" Kyle shouted from the truck.

"This set was expensive! I thought you Jews cared about stuff like that!"

"Ugh just leave him, Stan, let him take the fall for it."

"Ay I heard that! If I get any cop other than Barbrady I'm telling them you assh*les put me up to it, which is true anyway!"

Cartman had grabbed the blowtorch and grappling hook set, yanked the sharp stake out of the ground and half jogged, half waddled, as only fats kids can do, to the truck. He threw the items on the floor and jumped inside, throwing on his seat belt. As Kenny held the gas down all the way Stan put the truck into gear and the frozen wheels spun and then finally the truck jutted forward into the forest just as blue and red police sirens could barely be seen through the snow on the opposite side of the building. The boys had managed to escape but the truck was speeding though the forest. Stan was trying his best at keeping the steering wheel steady while trying to avoid hitting anything.

"You assh*les were going to leave me!"

"Well Stan stayed behind for you so if we get caught it's your fault."

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR sh*t, KAHL!" Cartman grabbed Kyle's industrial flashlight and smacked Kyle on the head with it.

"f*ck YOU!" Kyle punched Cartman right in the nose and again in the mouth causing Cartman to spit blood.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Cartman swung the flashlight so it made contact with Kyle's forehead.

"SHUT THE f*ck UP BOTH OF YOU! BRAKE, KENNY, BRAKE!" Stan shouted and jerked the wheel sharply to the right, barely missing a large tree. Kenny pressed the brake all the way down but due to the bad weather, the tires locked up and caused the truck to skid. The driver's side slammed into a huge, solid metal gate that belonged to the laboratory of Dr. Alphonse Mephesto. The objects and people in the car flew, the sharp metal stake from the Mission Impossible Breaking And Entering Play Set impaling Kenny through the chest on impact. Stan's head made contact with the window in a sickening cracking sound as the pig he had tried to save crashed up against him. Kyle reached out to his friend, everything seeming to go into slow motion before Cartman smacked him again on the head with the industrial flashlight, knocking him out.

Everything went quiet as Cartman looked over at his three unconscious, injured and possibly dead friends. Cartman smacked Kyle on the head twice more with the flashlight and then got out of the truck. He was really familiar with where they had ended up. Cartman walked to the edge of the forest and threw the flashlight as far as he could so no one would ask questions. He then gathered the pig over his shoulder the way Stan had done and made his way up the hill towards Dr. Mephesto's laboratory, singing Lady Gaga's Judas softly to himself. He was on good terms with the old genetic engineer, maybe he could barter some pig DNA for medical attention for himself, and maybe his assh*le friends as well.
Detectivesandyvagina
Posts: 41
Joined: Wed May 20, 2009 10:16 am

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby Detectivesandyvagina » Tue Oct 04, 2011 4:21 am

Kyle had been in the hospital many times before, but as he slowly opened his eyes he could tell immediately the place he was in was not a hospital. For one thing the walls were made of some kind of stone and he was tucked into a huge king sized bed. Also Stan would usually be sitting by his bedside whenever Kyle was hospitalized.

Stan!

Kyle shot up in bed but quickly laid back down as he felt a sharp pain in his head. Slowly the memories of the night before came flooding back to him. He and Cartman had been fighting while Stan drove the truck by himself. Kyle's last clear memory was seeing his best friend's head smack against the window, that ugly sound would never get out of his mind. Was he okay?

Once again Kyle tried to sit up in bed but his head hurt too much. He took off his hat while staring up at the ceiling, feeling the many bumps on his scalp, his hand coming away with dried blood on his fingertips. Cartman, that son of a bitch! As soon as Kyle felt better he would be sure to get him and Stan out of wherever they were and call the cops on Cartman as soon as possible. This mess was his fault after all.

Kyle propped himself up with some pillows to get a better look at the room he was in. The cold stone walls were brightened up by posters of popular cartoons like Red Racer and Kyle's own beloved Terrance and Phillip, there was a table to one side that held a chemistry set, a large shelf took up the opposite wall filled end to end with various books and movies, a large flat screen TV hung on the wall directly in front of the bed he was tucked into. Kyle could've sworn this was a kid's bedroom, but the walls didn't look like any of the houses in town.

Kyle sighed and laid back against the pillows, continuing to examine what was on the shelf. His eye was drawn to three complete box sets of Star Trek: The Original Series plus all six movies. Damn Stan and his love for 60's and 70's tv shows, Star Trek was one Kyle had gotten into through him. Kyle curled up under the blankets, sick with worry over his best friend and the ache in his own head. Stan had to be okay, right?

Kyle was snapped out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. In walked Dr. Mephesto leaning on his cane followed by his monkey-like assistant, Kevin. Kevin held a tray with a glass of water and a small plate with a cover.

"Ah Kyle, good to see you're awake. You were out for quite some time."

For quite some time? "How are my friends?"

"Young Eric Cartman showed up at my door saying there had been a terrible accident. I wasn't going to fall for that old trick again but he was bleeding and convinced me to let him in. We found the rest of your group a several hours later."

Several hours later? Kyle would be sure to yell at Cartman over that later but he had bigger concerns. "And Stan? How is Stan?"

"The condition of Stanley Marsh we'll get to in a minute. I want you to focus on yourself for a bit. I brought something for you."

Dr. Mephesto nodded at Kevin who stepped forward, placing the tray on the side table of Kyle's bed. He lifted the cover to reveal a rather large black pill.

"Now Kyle, I'm sure you have quite a headache. I want you to take this. It should help you."

"Stan's okay though isn't he?"

"Kyle, please take the pill. You should feel better in less than five minutes."

Kyle propped himself back with the pillows and took the glass of water, he picked up the pill and turned it around in his hand. "If I take this you'll take me to see Stan?"

"If you take it your headache will go away, your injuries should heal quickly and you'll be able to get up and walk around, so in a way, yes." Dr Mepehsto sat at the edge of Kyle's bed and pulled out a clip board, leaning forward in observation.

Kyle hesitated, then carefully placed the pill in his mouth taking a drink of water, he swallowed, slightly creeped out at how the old genetic engineer was looking at him. The glass of water shook slightly in Kyle's hand. "Now can I see Stan?"

Dr Mepehsto checked his watch. "Wait a few minutes young man, then try to sit up, and tell me immediately if you feel anything abnormal."

Kyle's hand was shaking so badly the water sloshed over the glass and onto the comforter. He quickly set the glass down. "But Stan…"

"Please, get your mind on something else Kyle. You'll only agitate yourself further and I want to see you feel better."

Kyle grumbled and laid back down in the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. His eyes scanned the room again. "This is an interesting room to have in the middle of a laboratory."

"Thank you, you're actually staying in my son's room. Eric wanted the guest room."

"This is your son's room? You mean Terrance?"

"Yes, Terrance went away to Yardale on scholarship at the beginning of his fourth grade year to focus on science. It's a boarding school where he's away one semester at a time so his room is vacant until he returns in the end of April."

Kyle racked his brain for conversation that didn't have anything to do with asking about Stan. He looked around the room for a distraction. His eye went to the Fat Abbott calendar, noting it was the last week of February. "That's a while away. Doesn't it get awfully lonely here all by yourself?"

"I have Kevin to assist me but mostly I enjoy my solitude to focus on my projects. Now tell me Kyle, do you feel any different?"

"I don't know."

"Try sitting up without supporting yourself."

Kyle pushed himself up and shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

"How do you feel Kyle?"

"My head doesn't hurt anymore, it feels clearer as well."

"Good, good. Try getting up and walking around."

Kyle got out of the bed easily and headed towards the door. "I'm totally fine so I'm going to go look for Stan now."

Dr Mephesto had his head bent over his clip board making notes. "Hold on Kyle, go wait in the lobby until I'm ready for you, and tell me if you feel any side effects."

Kyle walked out into the hall and followed the sound of a TV into what looked like a living room. Cartman sat at a table watching an episode of The Simpsons, in the middle of the table sat a freshly baked cherry pie which he was helping himself to. Kyle cautiously sat opposite of him.

"Fatass? Where's Stan?"

"You don't really remember anything do you Kahl?" Cartman said with his mouth full.

"Not really, just a certain assh*le smacking me in the head with a flashlight and a crash. Is Stan alright?"

Cartman rolled his eyes and took another bite. "You know that freaky little monkey guy is a pretty good cook."

Kyle slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit Cartman is Stan okay?"

Cartman paused to take a drink of milk, a very serious expression on his face as well as a milk moustache. "Kahl, Stan's dead."

The color drained from Kyle's face. He shut his eyes, a few tears squeezed out. "No, it can't be."

Cartman burst out laughing. "Oh Kahl, you're actually crying, and I thought Stan was the pussy of the group…may he rest in peace."

"You heartless bastard, Stan's dead and you laugh at me for feeling sad over it? f*ck you!"

"Oh man, Kahl. You're going to regret saying that."

Kyle stared at the TV, trying to make sense of the situation. He wiped his eyes and turned back to Cartman. "It's Sunday isn't it?"

"Yeah they always show The Simpsons on Sundays, shame Dr Mepehsto doesn't have cable. We will not watch Family Guy after, Kahl. I think I've suffered enough."

"Dr Mephesto said I was out for a while, when did Stan die?"

"He gave you some medicine didn't he?"

"Yes." Kyle sniffed.

"Good because Stan isn't dead."

Kyle clenched his fists. "What? Why the hell would you say something like that to me!"

"To make you cry, your tears amuse me so."

"Arg!" Kyle grabbed Cartman by the collar, dragging his across the table, causing Cartman's shirt to be covered in cherry stains. "If Stan's not dead where the hell is he?"

"Ow, goddammit you're such a dick, Kahl." Cartman pushed himself away from the table and held his stomach. Kyle noticed something drastically different about him.

"Cartman, your gut isn't hanging over your belt like usual. What the hell is going on here?" Kyle sniffed and wiped his eyes again, he was more pissed off than sad but still the tears wouldn't stop.

"Dr Mephesto needed some DNA from me so I let him try liposuction. Don't I look buff?"

"What the f*ck? Why did you let him do that?"

"The only reason Dr Mepehsto would let in was if he could fix our injuries by testing some stuff he was working on. He's planning to fix us all!"

Kyle couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You sold us out for genetic experiments! You son of a bitch! I'm going to find Stan and get us out of here right now!"

"If you hadn't broken my nose in the car, which Dr Mepehsto fixed by the way, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

Kyle got up, ready to break Cartman's nose all over again. His eyes were still blurred by tears though. "How is this my fault? This is your fault for hitting me first!"

"How about we just call it even and blame it on Stan and his tree hugging?"

"WHERE THE HELL IS STAN?"

"He's…f*cked up. Dr Mephesto will explain."

"It's true." Dr Mephesto entered the room, clip board in hand.

"What's wrong with my best friend?" Kyle cried, the tears coming full force.

"You ran off in such a rush I didn't have time to warn you. For the first half hour after taking the medication I developed if the test subject produces any extra fluids, crying or other bodily functions, they will continue to do so for an undetermined amount of time."

"Other bodily functions?" Cartman jeered.

"Undetermined amount of time?" Kyle cried.

"Damn, I should've tried to make you use the bathroom." Cartman laughed.

"You're the first human I've seen to do this Kyle. You tell me immediately when you stop crying." Dr Mephesto took more notes on the clip board. "This is fascinating, you may be suffering now but in the long run you'll be helping science."

Kyle suddenly felt very much like one of the rabbits or cats he and Stan had set free. "Can you just take me to see Stan now, please?"

"Do you mind stepping into my office for a bit? I'll go over the details of Stanley's condition in there."

Kyle numbly got up, while continuing to wipe his eyes and nose. His jacket sleeve was becoming quite soggy. He followed the old genetic engineer back into the hall into another room.

Dr. Mephesto's office was tastefully decorated and well lit. A huge glass topped desk held high stacks of papers and folders, a row of filing cabinets were along on wall. Kyle took a seat in a high leather backed chair, he faced a huge covered window. It was most likely still snowy outside but judging from the light coming peeking out from behind the curtains it burned bright, more like the sunshine in a tropical location.

Dr. Mephesto took a seat at his desk. He sympathetically slid a box of Kleenex over to Kyle who took a few. "I'm unsure if your crying is a side effect from your medication or of your agitated state. Please try to calm yourself."

"You keep putting off telling me what happened to Stan. Just out with it already!" Kyle wept openly into a fistful of tissues.

Dr Mephesto continued to observe and take notes. He then slowly unclipped his data sheet and placed it into a manila folder marked "Kyle Broflovski" He got up from his desk and went over to one of the filing cabinets, carefully replacing Kyle's folder. He then pulled out a much thicker folder marked "Stanley Marsh" and returned to his seat.

"There is no easy way to tell you this. When we found you two in the truck it was below freezing outside and both of you were starting to suffer the effects of hypothermia. My assistant and I brought you two in, we could tell you would okay after you were warmed, you just had a concussion. Stanley however was pretty near death, his jacket was much thinner than yours and his head injury was much more severe. His brain damage might most likely be permanent. But that thin jacket might have saved Stan from dying all together, his lowered body temperature slowing down any blood flow in his brain. It gave us more time. I did what I could for him, made him comfortable but the outlook is grim."

While he had heard everything Dr Mephesto had just told him, after hearing bad news twice his mind refused to believe it. This has not happened, it was all a bad dream and Stan was perfectly fine. Kyle's mind grasped at straws, did mental gymnastics, fantasy, imagination- which he had proved was real. He wished on dumb things like stars. This should not and therefore was not happening.

But Stan has always been a realist and so Kyle would have to be one as well.

"There's nothing that could be done? Why haven't you taken us to the hospital yet if it's been two days?"

"There is nothing current medical technology could do to save your friend, but the reason I kept you boys here has to do with just who Stanley Marsh is. I think I could undo this damage."

Maybe Kyle's wishing had worked. "Undo it? How?"

"I had already worked up a prototype using the vast amount of Stanley's DNA I had stored in my laboratory. He is actually the perfect candidate for my experiment."

"Why do you have so much of Stan's DNA?"

"I have DNA samples of a lot of South Park's citizens but probably the most I had belonged to Stanley Marsh, leftover from his clone. I've even used some of it in a few different experiments. I also have a large amount of Herbert Garrison's DNA, but that's because he keeps leaving samples of it all over town. He would make a good candidate for my experiment as well."

Kyle took another bunch of tissues and blew his nose again. "What were you planning to do?"

"I worked up a prototype to replace the damaged parts of Stanley's brain with new material mostly from the DNA I already had. I have done the procedure many times on all sorts of different creatures. It's how I've been able to splice so many different animals. I just never managed to try this process on an actual human and this opportunity just fell into my lap. This would not be the first time I've experimented on Stanley. He's come out okay the last few times. Not only do I have many DNA samples from him but also an exact copy of his brain left over from his clone. I have all the information I need, the only thing holding me back is you, Kyle."

"Me?"

"The only problem is working with humans is very different that working with animals or plants. I am aware of the super best friends clause where one BFF has control over another BFF's medical decisions. I am asking for your permission."

"My permission? I'm not too sure."

"If my theory holds up and the process is successful, you won't even notice a difference at all. You can have your friend back and I can finally go for that Nobel Prize I've had my eye on for years. I have examples of other creatures I've done experiments on if you would like to take a look."

Kyle nodded slowly and Mephesto drew back the curtain to the window behind his desk. Kyle got out of his seat, still holding the box of Kleenex to his chest to get a closer look.

The middle of Mephesto's laboratory held a huge indoor garden, filled with lush tropical plants. Kyle could see many large cages each housing different animals, most of them different combinations, spliced with each other, the majority with multiple asses.

"It looks like a zoo."

"Yes this is where I house all the animals I have done experiments on. It can be challenging, feeing and caring for them all but where other place in society would these creatures have to go?"

"It's impressive." Kyle wiped his eyes and stuck the mound of tissues he had accumulated into his jacket pockets.

"You can have a look around if you like. See for yourself what I have created and how I can fix Stanley in the exact same way." Dr. Mephesto opened a back door from the office and gestured down a flight of stairs. "Go ahead."

Kyle held the box of tissues like a security blanket as he walked down the stairs into the zoo. It may have been freezing cold outside but in here the temperature was mild. Kyle turned around to ask Dr. Mephesto how he kept this place climate controlled in the middle of the Colorado Mountains when he saw the door shut behind him. The doctor had left him to admire his experiments guessed and to make his decision in private.

He found himself on a long path and started walking, looking at all the different creatures. He turned directly in front of the first cage…no habitat of a giant Galapagos turtle that just happened to have five asses. The tears were still rolling down Kyle's cheeks and he took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself. He'd better calm down now rather than have Cartman gloat over the state he had put him into.

Kyle continued down the path, still wiping his eyes with the tissues and then stuffing them into his pockets. The next habitat was semi frozen, penguin like creatures with huge legs bouncing around. For this reason this habitat was sealed off with glass. Kyle pressed his back against the glass and slid down, he had to sit. He was too overwhelmed. He buried his face into his knees, trying to force the tears to stop. What kind of pill did that crazy doctor give him?

Kyle grabbed another handful of used Kleenex, the side pockets in his jacket were full so he opened his front pocket to deposit the tissue, there was something in there he had forgotten about. Kyle pulled out the photograph he had taken of Stan the other night, sniffling as he stared at it. Stan's photo frowned back at him, his eyes unfocused, holding the pig. Would this Polaroid be the last memento Kyle would have of Stan as he knew him? Kyle studied the photo. For having a concussion or whatever happened to him he felt pretty good, physically anyway. Even if the crying side effect was getting annoying. Kyle again took off his hat. The bumps on his head were gone. He would assume his face would be bruised as well but taking a look at his reflection in the glass of the pengiroos habitat he looked normal.

Maybe Dr Mephesto really did know what he was talking about. If current proven medical technology would be useless maybe he should take a gamble on mad science. Kyle had healed remarkably well and all the animals that surrounded him seemed happy and healthy. Stan had always loved zoos and aquariums and Kyle wondered what his best friend would think of where he was right now. Would he really never have that opportunity again? To ask his best friend a simple question? This thought made his stomach hurt, almost turn, the same thing that had prompted Stan to want to do all this in the first place. Maybe Kyle was a bit too used to always having Stan be there for him, he wouldn't admit to being co dependant but he did rely on Stan a lot. Now Stan needed him and it was his decision. He could fix all this, with Dr. Mephesto's help.

The Kleenex box was empty now and Kyle transferred the used tissues back into the box, carefully replacing the photo in his pocket. He rubbed his eyes, not quite ready to deal with Cartman, but really when was he ever? He made his way up the stairs and back into Dr. Mephesto's office, finding it empty. Kyle shrugged and walked out into the hall and back to the TV room to find Cartman flipping channels on the TV and eating popcorn. Kyle suddenly realized his stomach turning wasn't just anxiety, it hit him how hungry he was. He sat at the table again, looking for the pie, or any food at all. He placed the box of Kleenex on the table but said nothing, he knew better than to try and share food with Cartman. He didn't want to be yelled at like a cat.

Kyle's eyes went from the box of Kleenex, to the popcorn, to the TV. He had to approach the subject of food very carefully. He remembered one of the last things Stan had told him, how sick he was of his and Cartman's constant fighting. He mulled over the details of the car accident trying to remember what he and Cartman had been arguing about when they crashed, was it any different than any other day the three of them hung out? Kyle felt a twinge in his stomach, not just with hunger, it was guilt. The car crash was just not just Cartman's fault, it was probably his as well. Kyle wiped away another storm of tears with the back of his hand, he deserved this. Stan did not.

Cartman munched on his popcorn, his eyes flicked to Kyle. "What the hell are you staring at?"

"I wasn't staring, I….never mind."

"Heh heh, you're still crying."

"Can you please not start with me? A truce until we know Stan is okay? Please?"

"Whatever I'm not the one with a staring problem. I think the re run of Terrance and Phillip from last Wednesday is showing soon." Cartman continued to flip the channels when Kyle caught a glimpse of his own face on the TV screen.

"Cartman, turn it back."

"The f*ck Kahl? You want to watch the news? Terrance and Phillip may suck these days but it's better than the f*cking news."

"Just do it, fatass. I think we might be in trouble."

"Don't call me fat." Cartman narrowed his eyes at Kyle but turned it to the news, just to see his own face flash across the screen for a moment, then they flashed Stan's picture. "-and Stanley Marsh, all of South Park, Colorado have been missing since the early hours of Saturday morning. Anyone with any information leading to the three boy's safe return please contact the police immediately. A substantial reward is being offered by their families."

The news flashed another picture, this time of Kyle, Stan and Cartman, nearly a year old from some school event. Cartman hated that picture, made him look so…big boned. He was skinny now. "They think we're missing, Kahl?"

Kyle's stared at the screen, wiping his eyes with napkin after napkin from the holder off the table. "Well we haven't been home in two days, makes sense for our parents to call the police. I wonder if they reported Stan's dad's truck missing as well?"

"Do you think?" Cartman put his hand on his chin, in deep thought.

"That we should tell them where we are? I kind of wanted to talk to Dr. Mephesto first."

"No, do you think if I called and turned you two assh*les in I could collect the reward money?"

"Is that all you care about? Stan is really hurt because of us…mostly you."

"I thought we agreed earlier that was Stan's own damn fault. The least I could do was get some money out of this."

Kyle grabbed the box filled with his used Kleenex and threw it at Cartman's head, Cartman knocked it away midair. "Stop that Kahl. Look we made the news again. I told you this was all Stan's fault."

"Now we go on the scene with a hideously deformed man eating a popsicle."

This time on the TV screen flashed a picture of Glimmer Corp with a man in a suit shoving a popsicle half into his mouth and half through his cleft lip. "Thanks Tom. More bad news for the local cosmetics factory, Glimmer Corp which we reported earlier was vandalized and robbed of its testing animals. The local police most likely attributing that to eco terrorists."

Cartman burst out laughing. "Haha, you and Stan are eco terrorists! That is beautiful."

"Are we in trouble?"

"Probably, serves you right. Eco terrorist sounds better than tree hugging pussies like I would have called you."

"Shut the f*ck up Cartman, I want to see if they knew it was us."

The hideously deformed man finished off his popsicle, wiping at the stains that had dribbled down on the front of his suit. He paused as he unwrapped another popsicle. "We now have just confirmed the same building has caught fire a few hours ago. I'm here with fire fighter chief Ryan Valmer to give us more perspective."

Fire Chief Valmer appeared on camera, dressed in his uniform, covered head to toe in ash as the hideously deformed man stuck a microphone in his face, other hand still holding his popsicle. Jimmy's dad looked uncomfortable as he started to speak. "We did what we could to contain the fire but in the end we couldn't save the building. From our preliminary investigation the cause of the fire points to arson, possibly the same people who robbed it a few days ago…"

Kyle buried his head in his hands. "Change it to Terrance and Phillip now. I can't bear to hear anymore."

"Ohh you and Stan are in trouble."

"We did not burn that building down. We were here this entire time! We might have set free some animals but that building catching fire was not our fault."

"Now Kahl, they said it was arson, someone had to be responsible. You are Stan are screwed, well Stan was already screwed up from that night but now you can match him."

"WE DID NOT BURN DOWN GLIMMER CORP!"

"Well what are you going to do? Cry about it? Oh wait."

Kyle jumped up from the table and Cartman braced himself to be hit again, instead Kyle grabbed the TV remote and shut it off.
Detectivesandyvagina
Posts: 41
Joined: Wed May 20, 2009 10:16 am

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby Detectivesandyvagina » Tue Oct 04, 2011 4:22 am

Cartman reached out to try and grab the remote one more time but Kyle shot him a death glare and slapped his hand away again. Cartman retreated, a small smile on his face. "You're so funny when you're angry, Kahl."

Kyle continued to stare down Cartman, tears streaming out of his narrowed eyes. Dr. Mephesto and Kevin entered the room, breaking the stale mate. "I would like to inform you two boys that I have just successfully spliced the pig DNA Eric gave me. Thank you for your contribution to science."

Cartman smile grew even wider as his voice grew sweeter. "No problem, Dr. Mephesto, I'm always willing to help…for science."

Kyle sighed at Cartman sucking up to the adults yet again. He walked back to the table to grab the last of the package of napkins to wipe his eyes and nose.

Dr Mephesto took a seat across from Kyle and checked his watch again. "Still crying I see. It's been almost an hour. I guess I should thank you for your contribution to science as well."

"I-I made my decision."

"Ah yes, onto my next hopefully successful experiment, what have you decided, Kyle?"

"Do it. If there is any chance to fix Stan I have to take it: he's my best friend and I wouldn't know what to do without him." Kyle had been crying in small amounts but his voice cracked with emotion as he buried his face into a handful of napkins.

"Goddamnit, Kahl, you are such a fag." Cartman snickered.

"Kyle you mentioned fixing Stan. My job is to take beings and make them better than before. Do you have any suggestions on how I could improve your friend?"

Kyle looked up from wiping his eyes. "What the hell? Is Stan the Six Million Dollar Man now?"

"Well "Stan" rhymes with "man", Kahl."

"No! Stan was just fine the way he was."

Cartman's fake sweet smile returned. "I think you could improve him, Dr. Mephesto, in many ways. Stan was such a pussy."

"Well, boys, the reason I ask is that I've done this experiment many times on different animals. This is the first time I'll try it on a human. As I stated before working with humans holds a different set of problems than working with animals. I can fully restore all his basic living functions. He can walk and talk just like before. What separates working on a human rather than an animal is the personality. The reason I ask is that there's the question of Stanley's personality. I need all the input I can get to get it right: either how Stanley was before or how we can improve him."

Kyle's mouth dropped open and his handful napkins fluttered to the floor. "You can make Stan well again but there's a chance he won't have the same personality? How could you do that?"

"See, Kyle, this is I need your help to describe him the best you can to me. His future depends on you. I can tell you and Stanley were close."

"He was my best friend."

"It shouldn't be that difficult then."

"I don't know, Dr. Mephesto, just there's so much riding on it."

Cartman had been watching both of them, munching popcorn and quite enjoying just how upset Kyle was. It was better than anything on TV, since that stupid Jew took the remote. "Oh come on, Kahl it's not that hard. Like I said, Dr. Mephesto, Stan was a pussy. You should fix it so he's not such a pussy anymore."

Dr. Mephesto took out a pen and started to make notes on his clip board. Kyle saw the word 'pussy' written very large in the Dr.'s neat handwriting. "No! Don't listen to him; he hates us all. I'm Stan's best friend: I should be the one to do it."

"Go ahead then, Kyle, describe Stan to me."

Kyle blew his nose one more time and took a deep breath, trying to get the right words out. "Stan wasn't a pussy, he was tough. He-"

"Oh please, Kahl, he was always complaining about his family or going on about his stupid girlfriend, crying about saving the whales and other stupid bull crap. He would cry more than you're crying right now."

"Oh so Stan's a pussy for caring about stuff? At least he has feelings! He wasn't a selfish assh*le like you are! It's your fault I'm crying!"

Dr. Mephesto sighed. "There seems to be a radical difference on opinion. Can we just say Stanley was somewhere in the middle? Do you boys agree?"

"Agreed," said Cartman.

"Agreed." Kyle sighed as he bent over to pick up the napkins he dropped.

The Doctor made a few more notes. "Go on Kyle, keep describing Stan to me."

"Sorry. Stan was smart and he'd always try to do the right thing."

"Excuse me Kahl, but don't you think you're describing yourself?"

"No! It's not my fault me and Stan are similar. It's probably why we're such good friends. Unlike you."

"Hey, Stan was my sort-of friend too!"

Dr. Mephesto tapped the side of his clip board with his pen. "Can you please continue, Kyle? We don't have much time. Not if I'm going to finish this by the morning."

"Dr. Mephesto, I can tell you all I can about Stan but not in front of him." Kyle pointed accusingly at Cartman. "He's trying to mess me up on purpose!"

"The f*ck? No I'm not. I'm telling it how it is. You're the one who's going to screw up Stan's personality!"

"Fine! Cartman, you think you know Stan better that I do, tell him. Tell the doctor your own take on Stan's personality since I'm doing such a sh*tty job at it. I was only his best friend!"

Dr. Mephesto wasn't taking notes anymore, he was just sitting back watching the two boys argue, exchanging uncomfortable looks with Kevin.

"It's true, Dr. Mephesto that Stan and Kahl are quite similar, always going on about what great best friends they are, which would make any outsider think they were totally gay for each other. But I doubt Kahl's ever stopped to think why I hate Stan less. Stan can take a joke. Kahl just explodes into anger, which amuses the hell out of me. It's probably why we keep him around in the group."

"We're not gay; Stan has a girlfriend for f*cks sake! You're the one in the group no one likes to be around."

"See, he can't take a joke and Stan liked having me around."

"Stan's nice to everyone."

"Not really, Kahl, he was kind of dead pan and sarcastic. A smartass. You couldn't bullsh*t him."

"Okay so he puts up with you."

"He puts up with you too, Kahl, his stupid dad, that bitch, Wendy. He puts up with a lot of people."

"There's a lot more to Stan than just the people around him!"

"Maybe. Or if it weren't for the people around him, Stan would be pretty boring on his own."

"What? Stan isn't boring!"

Dr. Mephesto slammed his clipboard down on the table, interrupting the argument. "Boys! That is enough! I have a simple solution. I put you two in separate rooms and have you write out your own different take on Stanley's personality. I'll collect the papers at the end and use my best judgment."

Kyle turned from shouting at Cartman to Dr. Mephesto. "How will you know if you've got Stan's personality right then?"

"Have faith, Kyle. I've worked with Stanley before. Now who wants to stay and who wants to leave?"

Kyle raised his hand. "I'll go. Cartman's annoying presence has overtaken this room anyway."

Before he could hear Cartman's response, Kyle jumped up and went out into the hallway. He walked down the hall, opening and closing all the doors. He was unsure where Dr. Mephesto was keeping Stan but suddenly he wanted to see him. He poked his head into each room looking for his best friend. Kyle found the room he had woken up in, then a library and finally a kitchen. No laboratory or hospital room. He cautiously walked into the kitchen to throw all the napkins in his pockets away. He eyed the huge double refrigerator. As desperate as he was to see Stan he was also terribly hungry. Kyle wondered what the etiquette was if you wanted something to eat while being held hostage by a crazy genetic engineer who was using you as a guinea pig.

A moment later Kyle was joined by Dr. Mephesto and Kevin. "Ah the kitchen, a fine choice. Surrounded with food that gives us nourishment to help sustain our minds for the task I have for you."

"Thanks." Kyle said unenthusiastically, he went to the kitchen table and grabbed another handful of napkins for his eyes. "Can I ask what was in that medicine you gave me and if you have any idea of when I'll stop crying?"

"There has been extensive research done on the healing properties of sea cucumbers. I took their basic DNA structure for healing and made it into a pill that can be taken orally. A few other basic characteristics also come out in test subjects, mostly due to sea cucumbers being underwater creatures. It affects the water levels in the body. It's the main flaw that prevents me from seeking out a patent on the medication."

Kyle took a seat at the table. "That's what you do isn't it? Use animal DNA in your experiments. Can I please ask you don't put any animal DNA into Stan?"

"No animal DNA, got it. I can probably use something synthetic if I need spare material."

"Also, please do not give him multiple asses. That's just not right on a human."

Dr. Mephesto nodded and quickly took out his clip board to make notes. "Anything else Kyle?"

"I know one way you can improve Stan from the way he was before. Make it so it's harder for him to throw up. Make it so it's practically impossible. Do that as a favor to me…and this girl we know."

"Alright, no animal DNA, only one ass and fix Stanley's gag reflex. Is that it?"

"I think so."

"Okay good." Dr. Mephesto placed a piece of paper in front of Kyle, face down. "This is the sheet on Stanley's personality that I want you to fill out. Please do it carefully. As for your other question, I'm unsure when your crying side effect will subside but I suggest that after you finish your paper, you go to sleep and see if it has stopped by the morning. I plan to stay up all night finishing the experiment on Stanley and if you're still crying in the morning I'll get to work on you."

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to make the tears stop while placing his head down on the table. He did not want Dr. Mephesto to have to do anything else to him. "Fine, thank you. Bye."

"Feel free to help yourself to anything I have while you work. You'll see the fridge is fully stocked." Dr. Mephesto nodded and quickly left, Kevin following.

When he heard the kitchen door shut behind him Kyle slowly picked up his head. He took a few deep breaths and rubbed his eyes before he turned over the paper to see 'Ten True Facts About Stanley Marsh' typed across the top. How can an entire person's personality be captured in just ten facts? Kyle sighed and grabbed a pen, trying to focus his mind. He always did this when he was about to take a test in school, priding himself on getting straight A's most of the time. He shuddered to think Cartman was down the hall with the same paper, probably half assing it if he even bothered to finish the entire thing. Kyle would have to do a spectacular job if Stan was supposed to come out okay in the end.

If Dr. Mephesto didn't screw it up. Kyle had to go along with it and try to trust him, he had no other choice.

Kyle pondered what his first fact should be when his eye went back to the refrigerator, his newly healed face reflecting back on its shiny metal finish. Dr. Mephesto had offered him food and Kyle was hungry. He got up and took a peek inside, the fridge contained a full ham, potato salad, a chocolate cake next to a gallon of milk, fried chicken, spaghetti, many different types of sodas. Kyle considered his choices and took out a loaf of bread and the ham to make himself a sandwich. He never had pork at home due his mother and her Jewish dietary habits that she enforced on the family, so Kyle would eat it whenever he could. Kyle pulled out cheese, lettuce, tomato and mustard, leaving the jar of mayonnaise behind. He'd always hated mayonnaise.

As he made a sandwich for himself on the counter top he noticed a landline phone attached to the wall, cord and all. Who the f*ck used landline phones these days? He cut the sandwich in half and took a bite, his small unkosher yet delicious rebellion making him think of his mother again. She must be worried if he hadn't been home in two, almost three days. Knowing her, she was the first one to call the police. Kyle chewed and carefully weighed his options. Dr. Mephesto said he would be done with Stan by the morning but he knew his parents, as well as his friend's parents would be worried sick. He felt compelled to at least call someone and let them know they were okay. It would be a tiny lie to the Marsh family but all should be good by the morning, right? Kyle finished off his sandwich half and carefully lifted the phone off its cradle, the steady dial tone humming in his ear. Normally he'd just call Stan in these situations. Kyle thought for a bit of the only other person he could trust at this point. He slowly punched out a familiar cell phone number on the rotary dial. How old fashioned.

Ike Broflovski sat at his computer, circles under his eyes, large mug of coffee in his hand. He was using special government satellites that had been a breeze to hack into to scan every inch of the town of South Park for his missing brother and his friends. He just had to figure out how to get the satellites to zoom in even closer. His mother had spent the weekend by the phone, half crying, half yelling, while she alerted every branch of law enforcement and the media as well. She had rallied together Ike's father out in the woods in a search party that included Stan's dad and uncle, combing for clues.

Ike's eyes were glued to the computer screen looking for a glimpse of green and orange among the white Colorado landscape, because who else wore those colors other than his Cookie Monster? He squinted his eyes as he scrutinized the computer screen, trying to make a clue appear out of thin air. The area near the burned down makeup factory was a particular point of interest. If only Ike could zoom in closer. As he leaned forward, the mug of coffee in his hands tipped over, spilling all over the legs of his pajamas and the carpet. He cursed at his concentration being broken. His first thought was to change but knowing his mother she'd come down hard on him for ruining the carpet, missing Cookie Monster or not.

Ike padded down to the kitchen to grab something to clean up. His kitchen was full of activity, not only from his mother but from the mothers of his brother's friends as well. Mrs. Broflovski was the center of the activity as usual, ear glued to the phone, barking out orders as different search parties called in with no news so far. Mrs. Cartman had kept herself busy keeping everyone fed. She had made a large meatloaf for dinner with the side dish of possibly the best mashed potatoes Ike had ever eaten thanks to Mrs. Marsh. "They were Stanley's favorite." She had remarked with a sigh during dinner. Later Mrs. Cartman had stepped out "For a smoke" she had said in her singsong voice, returning with a sudden burst of energy the rest of them seemed to have lost after two days. She got to work preparing some of her own son's favorite foods. The smell of cookies, cupcakes and doughnuts baking filled the kitchen. After making the mashed potatoes, Mrs. Marsh seemed to have lost all of her enthusiasm. While the other two mothers were busy with their tasks, she sat staring into her own cup of lukewarm coffee among a table full of missing child posters, maps, handwritten information and plates of baked goods.

Ike walked up to the kitchen table, grabbing a chair and pulling it up towards the counter to reach a roll of paper towels. The sound of the legs of the chair scraping across the linoleum snapped Sharon out of her trance just as Ike started to climb up onto the counter.

"Ike, honey, be careful."

"Mama. Coffee." Ike pointed to his soaked pajamas.

"Oh, you spilled your coffee. Let me help get you cleaned up and put you to bed. Might as well do something useful." She muttered the last bit as she grabbed a dish towel and followed Ike back up the stairs.

She walked next to Ike in silence as she escorted him into his bedroom. Ike pointed out where the coffee was spilled as he went to his dresser to get another pair of pajamas. Sharon got down on her knees to start cleaning up the spilled coffee but looking over at what Ike had been going over on his computer screen, a satellite view of the burned out Glimmer Corp building. She didn't want to think the worst but she had to worry. Ned had given them the last whereabouts of her son and his friends, describing their clothes, holding flashlights with some kind of plan. What were they doing and where were they now? A flurry of tears started up and just as Ike was passing by, she grabbed him in a tight hug. Ike was taken by surprise, happy at first to be pressed against the rather ample chest of Sharon Marsh but this wasn't the time. He tried to push himself away from her but she held him tight, stroking his hair.

"Our boys, they keep running off. Promise your mom you won't do the same, will you?"

"Cookie Monster?" He responded. Sharon loosened her grip a bit, Ike finally able to get away.

"It's just that that last night Stanley was home, he so was angry with us. I'm afraid he's run away again, or worse."

Ike looked Sharon in square in the eye. "Cookie Monster and his friends are on an adventure. They will come back, they always do."

He patted her on the shoulder and continued on his way to the bathroom to change leaving Stan's mom alone.

Sharon felt silly for crying and after she finished cleaning up the spilled coffee, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and got up. She looked over at Ike's desk and started straightening the papers scattered across it. One was a missing child poster with a picture of her son and his friends. Stanley. Her good boy, her handsome boy. He always would run off but of course he would come back. He always did. Both of Sheila's boys were very smart for their ages, as was her own son. She kept this thought in mind as she continued straightening the desk, and went on to fluffing the pillows on Ike's bed as well as turning down the blankets. She was probably overdoing it but God knows both of her kids wouldn't let her mother them in this way, not at the ages they were.

Her thoughts of what a good, sweet boy Ike Broflovski was were shattered by that sweet boy's ringtone. "She was a bottle blonde, she had her sevens on. When I think about it now, just a cougar on the prowl. She was hotter than hell, had me under her spell. Got that ass doin' yoga, didn't care that she's older."

Sharon hesitated to answer Ike's cell phone, again thinking of her own children and their reactions if she would do something like that to them. But right now it was an emergency. Different search parties constantly calling in with any information they had, which had been none so far. She always held onto that small bit of hope that with each call it would be different though.

She answered.

"Ike? It's Kyle."

Sharon sat down on the bed in shock. This was the call she had been waiting for. "Kyle! Where are you boys?"

Kyle was taken aback at who answered the phone. He had planned to call Ike to let him know he was fine and to subtly let his own mother know he would be home soon. He didn't want to talk directly to Stan's mom. Anyone but her, knowing how over protective she was. He didn't want to give away anything in his voice, especially since he had been crying uncontrollably for over an hour. He took a deep breath. "We're…around."

"Are you boys okay? Put Stanley on the phone, I want to talk to him."

In a panic Kyle hung up on her. He stared at the receiver, knowing he had probably just made things a whole lot worse for all of them, especially for his best friend. For a split second he considered calling back Mrs. Marsh. Make up some bullsh*t excuse why Stan couldn't come to the phone and how they were all fine and going to be home soon. He could kick himself for not being more careful. If he had been patient, the three of them could have all gone home in the morning, Stan perfectly fine if Dr. Mephesto was a good as he said he was.

If.

Kyle stared at the other uneaten half of his sandwich; suddenly it looked unappetizing to him. He shoved it to the side and pulled the ten facts sheet in front of him once again. He better do the work he was supposed to do, rather that unintentionally f*ck up his best friend in some other way. The more he thought about it, the more guilt he felt at how horribly the weekend had turned out. He better get this paper absolutely perfect even if now he was probably screwed on time thanks to him accidently calling Stan's mom.

Two hours later, Kyle was looking over his work carefully. He was pretty sure he had jam-packed the single sheet of paper with every aspect of what made his best friend who he was. He obsessively re read what he had written, going over it and crossing out and rewriting portions of it, all the while frantically wiping his eyes, causing the ink from the pen to get all over his face and hands. He didn't even notice Dr. Mephesto re-enter the room, not until the doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump in his seat.

"Still not done with your work?"

"I just need to put the finishing touches on it." Kyle wrote something down, scribbled it out and rewrote it.

Dr. Mephesto shook his head sympathetically at the frantic boy. "I don't mean to rush you but young Eric finished his sheet an hour and a half ago and went to sleep. I suggest you do the same."

"An hour and a half ago? I knew he would do a sh*tty job." Kyle did a double take on fact #7. Was it their, they're or there? Suddenly he couldn't remember.

The old genetic engineer glanced over Kyle's shoulder at the paper. "It seems you were pretty thorough with your ten facts. You've done enough, Kyle. Try and get some sleep."

"I'm not tired." Kyle picked up the paper and held it close to his face, trying to skim the paper one last time. His sloppy cursive handwriting was swimming before his eyes.

"Yes but if we wait any longer the already narrow window of opportunity we have may not be around much longer. It's now or never."

He tried to protest as Dr. Mephesto carefully slid the paper out of his hands. Kyle stopped himself at the thought of making yet another bad decision on Stan's behalf. He threw down his pen so hard it bounced off the table and landed clear across the other side of the room.

"You'll let me see Stan as soon as you're done, right?"

"Of course, Kyle. Just do me a favor, watch that temper for the rest of your stay here, okay?"

Kyle said no more as he shoved his chair back and headed out to the room, grumbling to himself as he passed Kevin in the doorway.

Dr. Mephesto looked over Kyle's paper and shook his head at his faithful assistant. "It must take a special kind of personality to balance out those two, don't you think Kevin?"

Kevin shrugged as Dr. Mephesto threw Kyle's discarded sandwich in the trash. "Let's go restore order to a group of friends."

Kevin gave a small grunt as both men left for the laboratory.

Back in Terrance Mephesto's room Kyle had collapsed on top of the blankets, not even bothering to take off his shoes, hat or jacket. His head was firmly planted in one of the pillows, his stupid crying side effect making the pillow hot and moist against his face. He had been passed out for over twenty four hours and wasn't the least bit sleepy. His plan was to keep his face pressed into the pillow until he finally stopped crying or until Dr. Mephesto said he could see Stan.

Eventually Kyle's racing thoughts of Stan, the weekend and how much he hated Cartman for all of this gave away to a lucid blankness. It wasn't quite sleeping, more like that mild dozing Kyle would see Clyde Donovan always doing in class. Kyle didn't even want to think about having to show up at school tomorrow, pretending everything was fine. This entire weekend being a big secret between the three of them if Cartman could keep his big mouth shut. He tried to focus on not thinking of anything at all, a surprisingly hard task.

Kyle's trying not to think of things to think about was shattered by a knock at the door. He got out of the bed, hoping it was Dr. Mephesto with good news. Or even better, Stan himself. He was met with Cartman who pushed himself into the room and hurried to the window.

"What the hell, Fatass? I wanted you to leave me alone."

"I'm sorry, Kahl but if you weren't busy being so self centered you'd notice there's something huge going on outside."

"Well then, watch from your own room."

"Yours has a better view of the front yard."

Kyle groaned but joined Cartman at the window, his heart sinking to see Dr. Mepehsto's front yard filled with police cars. Stan's mom had been through, or more likely his own mom. "They found us."

"They sure did, Kahl. Look they're breaking down the door and everything. They must think Dr. Mephesto is some kind of crazed maniac."

"He's not crazy. You think they're going to arrest him?"

"He did keep us imprisoned for two days, did experiments on us and stuff, the sick f*ck."

"That you said he could do, assh*le. What if he's not done working on Stan? I have to go warn him." Kyle bolted from the room and down the hall.

"Is that all you care about, Kahl?" Cartman shouted after him.

Kyle didn't hear as he ran past the entrance, just as the front door came down and uniformed cops and firefighters filled the hall. Kyle almost made it to the laboratory when he was grabbed by a police officer and picked up, being lead out the front door. "I found one of the missing boys!"

Kyle kicked and thrashed wildly as he fought to get free as the laboratory door went further away and Kyle was carried outside. He punched and tried to bite and scratch the cops arms around him but the cop held restrained him in a bear hug. "He's uncooperative and combative. We'll have to hold him."

Another police officer opened the back door to a waiting police car. Kyle was tossed into the back seat, his head hitting the opposite side window much like what happened to Stan earlier as the door was slammed shut. Kyle regained his composure as he tried the door handle, which was a futile effort since he knew that cop cars didn't open from the inside. He pounded on the window and shouted for Dr. Mephesto and Stan as he watched as more cops, firefighters and paramedics went into the mansion. Genetically spliced and mutated animals were lead out, mixing with the growing crowd on the lawn. Were they releasing them from their cages in the laboratory or something? They sure as hell weren't keeping track of the animals as Kyle observed most of them running out into the forest.

They must have been searching the house.

Kyle waited with baited breath and soon enough he could see Dr. Mephesto lead out of the house in handcuffs into another waiting police car, Kevin sadly looking on. Cartman came out a few minutes later, pointing and laughing when he spotted what they had done with Kyle. Kyle couldn't even muster the energy to flip Cartman off from the back of his cop car. First Mephesto, then Kevin, Cartman, and the animals, just one more living creature had yet to emerge from the mansion. Finally among the chaos Kyle saw a figure in black, head wrapped in bandages, being lead out on a stretcher and loaded into the back of an ambulance. His first real glimpse of Stan in almost two days. Was it the same Stan he always knew? Kyle sniffled and rubbed his eyes out of habit, realizing then he had finally stopped crying.
NoseBridgePinch
Posts: 2
Joined: Sun Feb 07, 2021 2:43 pm

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby NoseBridgePinch » Sat Jul 30, 2022 11:17 am

Hey, this fic is finished at 14 chapters. It can be found on:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2883 ... s/70720908


https://m.fanfiction.net/s/6175166/1/A ... ly-Average

Chapter 7: George Lucas Cuts Kenny In Half
I'll sleep when I'm dead.

Old sayings about death amused Kenny to no end, but that particular one made him laugh the hardest. He couldn't tell anyone exactly why. Not that anyone would believe him anyway. The sleep after a death was never peaceful; it usually left him achy and sore depending on how Kenny had expired. Phantom pain aside he actually felt rested after; better than eight hours of regular sleep, even turning to his father's handgun on himself as an insomnia cure at times. What they didn't know can't hurt them.Another phrase Kenny would laugh at.

One had to have a sense of humor in times like this.

Kenny had awoken Saturday morning with mild chest pain and a slight choking feeling, nothing out of the ordinary. Not until he looked out his window down the street to see the truck he and his friends had 'borrowed' wasn't parked outside as usual. sh*t. Still Kenny played it off as normal, trying to keep calm and going through the motions as he had his usual half a pop tart for breakfast. Just waiting for the news to break out and everyone knew what he knew. He had to get to the truck before anyone else discovered it.

The truck had been a mess. Kenny had expected blood. There was plenty of it on the driver's side floor. He was puzzled at blood all over the seats as well, assuming at first his own. A bit of splatter left over from being impaled in the chest. But upon closer examination of hairline cracks on the driver's side window he probably wasn't the only injured one from that night. A prick of fear ran down Kenny's spine at this realization, looking over at the ominous looking mansion where the truck had ended up after the crash. Who did the blood belong to? He had gotten busy, first turning on and trying to drive the damaged truck deep in the forest, realizing bitterly this was the first time he was actually allowed to steer in all the times he and Stan had taken it. The big dent in the gate would be the least of Kenny's worries for now.

It was typical for South Park to be buried under a thick blanket of snow from October until May so Kenny knew no one would find the truck in the woods but he had to make it disappear forever. He climbed into the truck to set the defroster and heater to its highest setting. As Kenny turned on the truck he was met with a blast of sh*tty pop music left over from Cartman's singing session and quickly pressed a random button on the radio. The first radio station programmed was one for classic 70's rock, the truck was owned by Randy Marsh after all. It was typical bullsh*t but not any better than the stuff his own dad would listen to around the house minus a few more twangs of country music. Kenny was about to try and switch the radio off when the last song ended and the radio DJ started. "You just heard 'Freebird' By Lynard Skynard, we have another half hour great classic rock coming up soon for you, next we'll leave you with some Blue Oyster Cult, here is 'Don't Fear The Reaper…'" Kenny laughed a bit at what song the radio had just announced. Death phrases had constantly been repeating throughout his mind all day, he turned up the radio hoping to catch maybe a few more amusing quotes. It would be a nice distraction from the blood all over the seats of the truck. Kenny was still unsure if it was his or not. Though he bled quite often and a lot he never had to deal with the aftermath of it before. He looked around for something to cover the seats, opening the glove compartment to see if there was anything interesting in there, a pair of gloves, a map of Colorado, a screwdriver and a pack of cigarettes.

As the song started what Kenny heard was average and trippy as any typical 70's song was. Kenny could appreciate a good bass line and assumed he would appreciate it more if he was intoxicated in some way. Kenny eyed the pack of Randy's cigarettes and grabbed one and pulled out the lighter he always kept out of his pocket. Not until the singing started as Kenny took a drag of the cigarette did he really focus on the song. He took a sharp intake of breath at the opening lyrics, causing him to double over from coughing. He regained his composure just as the chorus started, tossing the cigarette into the woods and drawing in closer to listen carefully to the lyrics; goose bumps rising on his arms on an already cold night. He switched off the radio, pulling out the old map to spread across the seat and carefully pocketing the cigarettes. Anything else in the truck would not be salvageable, at least after Kenny had gotten through with it.

Driving the truck by himself was not an easy task, he had learned his lesson earlier pressing the gas pedal lightly in the heavy snow but he was unsure just how careful he was actually being having to constantly duck down to reach it with his foot. He couldn't afford to get killed again, not at the risk of getting caught. With Kenny's new one person method of steer, duck and tap gas he managed to crawl the truck onto a hill overlooking Stark's Pond. He couldn't see any other way of disposing of it and after making sure there was nothing else of interest left in the truck he rolled down all the windows and let the parking brake go, quickly jumping out as the truck gained momentum. He ran down the hill after the truck, ready to do a cheer over how clever he was in crime scene disposal. His victory dance cut short as he watched the truck slide clear across the thick ice, splintering a recreational bench in its path and coming to a crashing halt against the old oak tree that sat on the other side of the pond.

f*ck.

Kenny ran around to the other side of the pond to get a front view of the increasingly damaged truck. The left headlight was smashed and the entire front bumper was crushed in, steam from the radiator was coming out from under the hood. Kenny cursed under his breath, ready to give up and turn himself in. Stan's dad probably had good insurance on the truck and could probably get it fixed. The problem would be explaining why it disappeared and ended up in that condition in the first place. So much for joy rides with Stan and Kyle. Kenny stood back from the hood, watching the water from the radiator drip down and onto the ice. Kenny dared not open the hood as accident prone as he was. But the hot radiator fluid was doing a good job dissolving the ice. If Kenny could get the truck to leak something more flammable maybe he would be able to make the truck disappear under the ice after all.

With a plan forming in Kenny's mind he opened the driver's side door, taking a look at the truck's gas gauge. Half full, not bad. Or half empty if you were a pessimist. Kenny's outlook on life and his deaths would go back and forth between extremes but right now he would tell himself to think of the gas gauge was half full or else. He crawled over the crumpled map of Colorado to get to the glove compartment, taking out the screw driver and putting the gloves on over his own brown ones. The old worn work gloves were much too big for his hands but gasoline on Kenny's clothes was a recipe for disaster. He reset the parking brake and got back out, going to the side of the truck. He kicked the side tire, making sure the truck wouldn't budge and then cautiously crawled under.

When his father was giving Kenny and his brother mechanic lessons Kevin had made a show of getting a long rubber tube and trying to siphon some of the gas, daring him to take a drink, as if Kenny had never tasted gasoline before. Kenny was ready to accept Kevin's challenge when their father stopped them, telling them all about where the compartment where the gas was located and how to angle the hose so they could siphon properly without poisoning themselves. While Kenny still managed to poison himself in the end but his father's lesson had stuck with him. Under the back tire about two hand lengths away from the edge. Kenny counted off and shoved the screwdriver into the underbelly of the truck and wiggled it around. He quickly scrambled away from it just as gasoline started to leak out, Kenny cursing again as a bit of it splattered on him as it hit the ice.

Kenny stood as far away as possible as the gasoline leaked into a decent sized puddle around the back wheels of the truck. He looked down to see a light splatter of gasoline across the front of his hoodie. The last thing he wanted to do was die when he was doing something important. He weighed his options, finally walking back to the edge of the pond. He peeled off his hoodie and carefully folded it and placed it on the remains of the splintered bench. Kenny stood there, trying to get the full feeling of the below freezing temperature. He took a deep breath trying to take as much of the cold mountain air in his lungs as he could. Taking out another cigarette and his lighter, placing it to his lips and lighting it. He inhaled but quickly coughed it out again, wondering if the whiteness that escaped from his mouth was actual smoke and not his frozen breath. He'd learn how to smoke properly one day. The gasoline had stopped leaking. Kenny kept his distance as he took another drag, this time trying to hold it in and not cough as he tossed the cigarette onto the puddle. He ran back to the edge of the pond.

The small speck of orange quickly grew into a decent fire as Kenny slipped back on his hoodie, feeling a bit satisfied with himself. Years of setting things on fire was turning out into a useful skill after all, now if only Kenny could do the same for his other hobbies of huffing glue and staring at boobs. He hugged his hoodie around himself as he waited for the fire to do its job, not daring to approach the truck until it was out.

The puddle of gasoline had spread out and was lit up around the back end of the truck, the ice on the surface of the pond quickly melted and Kenny felt triumphant as the back tires started to slide into the water. The quickly growing flames licking up the sides of the truck and started to consume the cab, doing a fine job of destroying any evidence he and his friends had been there.

If only all of Kenny's problems could be solved by setting them on fire.

Kenny's jumped at the sound of glass shattering as the windshield caved in; extremely grateful he was a good distance away. He watched with some amusement as the back of the flaming truck slid even more into the water, the fire being extinguished as it fell through the ice making steam rise into the night sky. The truck suddenly plunged through the ice and into the lake, leaving a rather large hole in the otherwise untouched, frozen wasteland.

The fire went out almost instantly as the truck disappeared, and a thick steam rose out of the small pocket of water and suddenly all was black and silent. Kenny looked up to the sky to see the snow had picked up again, that giant hole would definitely be frozen over by morning, he had to keep reassuring himself. No time to over think now, he still had another even larger piece of evidence to get rid of.

After quite a long trek he had reached the Glimmer Corp building. Kenny stood in the clearing where he and Stan had driven the truck in a panic out of there just over twenty four hours ago. The front door was still bolted shut from the inside, now with the added decoration of crime scene police tape. Stan had broken in through the roof but that was out of the picture right now. Kenny weighted his options, not even too sure what he would do to cover his and his friend's tracks.

There was a nearby rustling of something in the otherwise silent and still night. Kenny looked up to see a pair of eyes staring back at him from the branches of a tall pine tree. He squinted through the falling snow to just barely make out two ears and a long tail. Oh a cat, Kenny liked cats. Probably a little bit too much according to some people. The cat's perch had given him an idea. Kenny hoisted himself up onto the lowest branch and climbed up until he was high in the tree, until he was almost eye to eye with it. He noticed the tag around its collar, sterilized numbers with a bar code. No sh*t it was a Glimmer Corp cat he and his friends had rescued. Kenny tried to reach out for a better look at the tag but the animal finally did react by jumping down off the branch and scampering off into the woods.

By this point he'd climbed high enough up the tree that he could see into the third story offices through the windows.

Kenny took a running leap and feet hit the windowsill and he tried to do his signature Mysterion crouch, instead his foot slipped. He grabbed the outside screen in panic, praying it wouldn't break under his weight. The windowsills of the residential houses he was used to were wide and made of wood, the Glimmer Corp building's windowsills were thinner and made of metal. Kenny's small thin fingers instinctively went through the holes of the screen, keeping him in place. He froze as the screen bent back from the window as he held onto it. He shook the screen to make sure it wouldn't break until he figured out his next plan of action.

He took notice at how several small bolts attached the screen to the framing where the window could slide open and closed, they seemed to go right through the glass of the window. Interesting. Kenny shook the metal screen again, this time putting his fingers between the gap and yanking it harder it to see if he could make some of those bolts come loose. After several strong tugs the screen partially broke off from the middle of the framing and left a decent sized crack in the glass of the window. Kenny continued to smack the screen against the glass to make the cracks bigger until he heard the window completely shatter on the inside. He cautiously put his hand through the opening and undid the screen latch, relying on gravity to let the window fall open.

Kenny had expected the bottom of the window to fall inward towards the office but to his horror it opened in the direction to the outside. The surprise made his foot slip once again making him fall back along with the window with his arm still stuck between the broken window and the metal screen. Kenny's body jerked in the motion as he felt his arm snap as it was held in place by the open window. Wanting to vomit at the shock of pain going through his body, his feet dangled and kicked uselessly over the ledge. He cried out, yelled, cursed but couldn't get himself free. Kenny tried to look up; he could tell by the angle his arm and body was hanging in the window it was definitely broken. While Kenny was no stranger to broken bones or even having limbs cut off, when this happened excruciating pain left him unable to think rationally. For now he'd be useless to carry out whatever he was supposed to accomplish here.

Kenny took in a deep ragged breath and forced himself to stop kicking his legs and just let his body hang by the scary angle his arm was stuck in. With his free hand he shakily grabbed the outside of the screen, fingers going through the holes as Kenny pulled his body up until his feet could reach the ledge. When he felt secure he bit his lip, took secure hold of the frame of the open window and yanked his broken arm out of where it was stuck between the screen and the framing. He shoved the open window all the way down and scrambled through the open window.

He rolled into the office and fell into the floor with a thud. Shutting his eyes and forcing himself to take a deep of breath, he tried to figure out what he should do. Kenny didn't want to move; actually he wanted to just die right here. An easy task to accomplish since his body was basically disposable, but damn he'd never get used to extreme pain. He finally opened one eye to examine the damage, the sleeve of his hoodie soaked in blood and something sharp looking protruding from just below where his elbow was. With his good hand he picked up his broken arm to hold it close to his chest. It didn't help with the pain but it would be easier to move around.

After several minutes Kenny forced himself to sit up and look around at where he was at. His eyes were mostly focused on the floor; black specks were starting to cloud his vision, was that the first sign of shock? f*ck it, Kenny decided he was torching this place. He could only get so far before he passed out from blood loss and didn't have his dad's gun available to put him out of his misery. Also he would technically be destroying evidence. Kill two birds with one stone, what a stupid f*cking saying.

The problem now would be where he was in the building. He had to get into the middle to make sure most of the place burned down. With effort he didn't even know he had, Kenny was able to get to his feet and stumble out the door. Just outside the office was a wide railing Kenny quickly went to lean against. Just below he could see the second floor level that housed the machines where they manufactured the makeup. Kenny knew that room since the floor was still covered with the makeup ingredients he and Cartman had spilled for fun. This position from where he was at must be where the bosses looked down at the workers. Just how to get down there. Kenny spied an elevator up the hall. Kenny dragged himself over and hurriedly pressed the down button with his shoulder. The elevator down arrow lit up and the doors opened. Kenny walked in confidently, probably on some new natural high he was experiencing due to severe pain and blood loss.

Kenny stood up straighter while holding his injured arm as the elevator went down and opened up on the bottom floor. Once again Kenny strode onto the manufacturing floor with as much confidence as one could muster with a severely broken arm and a dribbling trail of blood following them. The mix of chemicals spilled onto the floor were sticky on the bottom of his shoes, making it even harder to walk. After reaching the middle of the room Kenny unsteadily sat himself down in the middle of the mess and let his injured arm go, letting it flop uselessly to his side. He pulled the red lighter out of his pocket. His next act would hurt of course, but it would be self sacrifice to help a cause his buddy had started. He had been doing that kind of stuff long before he ever had the idea to become Mysterion. He pulled his glove off his hand with his teeth and placed it as far away from his seated position as he could. He flicked the lighter and held the flame to the glove just until it started to catch. Then he gingerly threw it to the other side of the room, shocked he himself hadn't gone up in flames right there. That could be considered slightly lucky since his clothing was covered in gasoline and his own blood. Kenny laid back down on the floor and watched as the burning glove caught the spilled chemicals on the floor, watching the flames start to grow. He shut his eyes and waited for the reaper to take him, though knowing that lazy assh*le probably wasn't going to show up.

Kenny's heavy lids lifted and once again he was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He took a deep breath and let out a ragged cough, the smoke inhalation must have killed him before his body burned. He stretched in bed and twisted his right wrist around and outstretched his fingers. Dying may hurt but when sh*t like that happened it was a quick fix rather than several weeks in a cast. Kenny sat up in bed and cleared his throat, opening his dresser table by his bed. He pulled out a battered three subject note book with a black cover. He knew why most guys would keep a little black book but Kenny had hardly gotten that far yet, not from lack of trying either. He flipped the pages to about the midway point and jotted down the date to make a new entry: Broke arm, burned up after setting building on fire.

Kenny took another deep breath and coughed a little, ignoring the fact his mind still seemed to be trapped in a burning building across town. He returned the notebook to its drawer and pulled out a large pack of disposable lighters since he always lost them so easily. He considered his color choices before selecting a navy blue lighter this time for his pocket, until next time he died. His color choices were always deliberate, his stupidly love sick friend on his mind of course, the navy blue matching that hat he always wore. Wasn't his last lighter red? But there was another person who wore navy blue around the playground, this time more enticingly around the collar of her jacket. Kenny was not being a bad friend; he knew all the colors of the collars of the girl's jackets in his class. If anything that's all he knew since Wendy always kept that top button shut so tight.

Kenny's curiosity was getting to him wither the Glimmer Corp building was completely gone now. He cautiously peeked out from his window at Stan's house again; all the lights were off in the house and the family's other red car was gone. Kenny jokingly imagined another one of his friends destroying it somewhere else in town. But who was he kidding? Worry crossed his mind again remembering the bloody front seat of the truck. He could kill himself for a quick injury fix but no one else could. He could try asking his family again or at least see if there was anything on the news. The added bonus of the Marshes not being home was the cable McCormick's stole from their house would be working perfectly right now.

He went into the living room and plopped down on the couch between his father and his sister, both ignored him as both were engrossed in the TV. The picture coming through clear as day right now but it was worth a shot.

"Hear any interesting news lately, dad?"

"You know Sundays are pretty meaningless now that half the NASCAR drivers are dead."

"It's not that."

Kenny's mother passed by, she handed her husband one of the beers in her hand and smacked him in the back of the head. "He's talking about church assh*le; he's feeling bad for missing church today."

"It's not that either, just...isn't the news starting soon?"

Kenny's dad jumped up. "What the hell was that for bitch?" He called after her. "Don't you dare change the channel, Kenny. I don't get to watch Pawn Stars with nearly clear picture and you're not f*cking that up for me now." Kenny's dad got up and followed Kenny's mom into the kitchen.

Kenny rolled his eyes, he wasn't allowed to change the channel but his dad could disappear any time he wanted to? He put his hands in his pockets, and pulled out his new lighter, flicking it on and trailing it back and forth like he was at a concert. He caught his sister's head going back and forth also following the flame and leaned forward to the coffee table to grab an old candle that was melted and misshapen from he and his siblings playing with the wax. He knew what usually followed his father going to confront his mother and needed to distract Karen. He lit the candle and stared down at the flame waiting for it to get hot enough to swirl the purple wax around. He could hear the sound of glass breaking in the kitchen, his other arm going instinctively around the shoulder of his sister. Her small face nuzzled into his jacket as he put the candle down on the table focused on the lighter in his hand.

"I was just brining you a beer!"

"I'm trying to watch TV, whore!"

"I should have brought you a jobs wanted section instead so you can stop being a dead beat loser!"

If his parents were distracted Kenny could sneak a peek, he got up and switched the TV to HBC. A golf tournament on right now. He tapped his foot impatiently, keeping a watchful eye on the kitchen door. The news wouldn't start until six he assumed. He hated to play into stereotypes but it actually was true his family hardly watched the news. They didn't even buy a newspaper, due to his father's aversion to the help wanted section, so Kenny couldn't see if his small act of arson had been noticed yet. Looking back at the couch he saw Karen had disappeared and the candle was gone, though a bit of the wax had been dripped onto the table. The boring sounds of golf were interrupted by a breaking news warning. Ah here we go; Kenny rubbed his hands in anticipation. His frowned when he saw a picture of Stan, Kyle and Cartman being flashed across the screen. Had they been arrested? No, reported missing, not as bad. Kenny waited on more info but there was nothing other than a number to call with information. His dad would be back before the news started so he quickly switched the TV back to his dad's precious History Channel and went back to his room.

Things had to be bad if there was no sign of his friends for nearly two days, they usually included him if they left town for an adventure. Kenny shut his bedroom door for the dresser hidden under the sheet. His blunder at Glimmer Corp hadn't been newsworthy but maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he had worn the Mysterion costume. A boost of confidence as well as that cover of mystery Kenny needed to get sh*t done. Right now he was needed again. First he would unplug his family's cable connection to the Marshes house, if only to mess with his dad. More importantly if his friends were missing, Wendy had to know the truth. Good thing Kenny knew where she lived now thanks to Stan.
AD7love
Posts: 1
Joined: Tue Dec 06, 2022 3:48 pm

Re: Abnormally Average

Postby AD7love » Tue Dec 06, 2022 3:52 pm

A sudden pain in his head caused Kyle to leap out of bed, but he quickly fell back to sleep. His recollections of the previous night slowly began to flood back. In the midst of their argument, Stan and Cartman were driving the truck by themselves. Kyle's last distinct memory was of hearing his best friend's head crash into the window; he would never forget that obscene sound. Was he alright?
Kyle attempted to sit up in bed once more, but his head pain prevented him. He removed his hat while gazing upward and felt the numerous bumps on his scalp. His hand came away with dried blood on the tips of his fingers. That son of a b*tch, Cartman! Kyle vowed to get Stan and him out of there as soon as he felt better and to call the police on Cartman right away. In the end, he was to blame for this mess.

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