Leopold “Butters” Stotch is just an average, middle class kid. He lives in the small town of South Park with his loving parents and fun-loving friends. Or does he? A terrible series of events makes Butters come to the conclusion that he must leave for a new life. Will Butters finally full-fill his greatest desire for power and attention? Will his friends and family finally realize how badly they have treated him?
Chapter 1: T.G.I.F
Sunlight peaked though the window blinds like a slick serpent. Its bright beam attempted to illuminate the room, unable to reach its unseen target. There was a soft knock on the door and a female voice called from behind it,
“Butters sweetie, time to get up for school.”
The boy that was hidden beneath the blankets stirred to life. His short, bright, golden hair was in complete upheaval. Butters rubbed his eyes viscously as he tried to subdue the grogginess in his mind. He set his feet down upon the cozy bedroom carpet and consulted the clock on his nightstand. With it only being five past seven; he would have plenty of time to get ready for school.
Butters made his way to the nearby bathroom, dodging the obstacle coarse of misplaced toys and clothes scattered throughout the bedroom. This morning’s routine consisted of practicing his latest lyrics about oral hygiene while using his Wellington bear toothbrush. When the last remnants of toothpaste were rinsed from his mouth, he jumped into the shower singing all the louder. He always prefers to shower in the evenings but it seemed that hot water and shampoo were the only weapons he had to tame his wild hair this morning. Feeling refreshed and fully awake, Butters returned to his room. A dig in his messy chest of drawers and dressed himself in a fresh blue flannel shirt and green jeans. When his black sneakers were tied on, he headed downstairs.
The aroma of fresh coffee and maple syrup welcomed Butters to the kitchen. Linda Stotch was busy at work at the stove; she had a spatula in her hand as she softly hummed to herself. Chris Stotch was seated quietly at the kitchen table; his eyes were carefully examining the business section of the South Park Gazette. Linda was the first to notice her son enter the room. Butters walked over to his mother and hugged her.
“Good morning baby.” She said gleefully as she returned the hug with a gentle kiss to her son’s forehead.
Butters proceeded to join his father at the kitchen table. Sitting in his usual spot, Butters grabbed the Comics page from the stack of newspapers, hoping to get a few laughs in before school.
“Did you read this hon?” Chris asked out loud.
“Wal-Mart’s sales have been sluggish recently; it’s mainly because of their outrageously long checkout lines. The manager says that someone has been blacking out all the barcodes on all the merchandise in the store. Nothing is scans at the register, so they have to type everything in by hand.” My father said, finishing with a chuckle.
“Oh I know, I must have spent two hours waiting at the register yesterday.” Linda responded. Her soft face reflected only a fraction of the frustration it displayed the previous day.
It took ever bit of self control for Butters to keep his internal, maniacal laughter contained to just a malicious smile. He and General Disarray had spent all Wednesday afternoon at that store with permanent markers, ensuring that that every barcode and printed item number was rendered unreadable. Finally, the town was beginning to feel the wrath of Professor Chaos. Linda arrived at the table to bring Butters a heap of pancakes drenched in hot syrup.
“Oh boy! Pancakes and hot cocoa! Thank mom!”
Butter began munch down his breakfast. His rapid pace of eating was hampered by his mother stroking her hand through his golden hair.
“You need a haircut sweetie.” She said idly.
“Y-yeah, I know mom. I’ll go after school.” Butters replied with a mouth full of pancake.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full Butters! That’s very rude.” Said his father in a familiar, annoyed tone.
“And make sure you clean up your room too. It’s absolutely unacceptable young man, and I shouldn’t have to point that out to you.”
“Yes sir.” Butters responded obediently. Chores were not very high on his list of desirable Friday afternoon activities, but it was better then being grounded.
After finishing his breakfast and placing his dirty plate in the dish washer, Butters hurried back up stairs to retrieve his backpack. Now that he was fully equipped for the day, he waved goodbye to his parents and stepped out the front door. The sun was now perched just above the summit of a distant mountain. The air was warm from its soft radiating beams. The summer heat had pretty much melted all of the snow in South Park, leaving only dew to cover the neighborhood lawns.
Tweek was already waiting at the bus stop. The jittery blonde was equipped with his usual mis-buttoned, olive colored shirt and quirky mannerisms. He was currently guzzling down his second can of red bull.
“Heya Tweek!” Butters greeted the boy in his usual chipper.
“Gah!” The other cried back as he tossed the empty can to the ground.
Eager to initiate conversation, Butters started,
“Boy it sure is great that it’s Friday and all, we’ve got a whole weekend ahead of us. Doin’ anything fun tomorrow Tweek?”
“Ah! Tomorrow?! I don’t think I’ll be alive tomorrow man! A scientist from NASA was on Art Bell’s show last night. He said some huge ass wave of anti matter from the center of the galaxy, is on a crash coarse with the earth. We’re all gonna fry man!”
Panic was only a vain attempt in describing Tweek’s voice. Butters wasn’t phased by this.
“M-My dad said that nothing on that show is true, he says he will ground me if I ever listen to it. But sometimes, when I can’t sleep at night, I turn it on and listen to it with h-headphones, so that he would never know.”
“Good morning Butters.” He said in an overly innocent tone.
“Mornin’ Eric!” Butters answered back brightly.
“You know why I’m here Butters.” Cartman said in a dangerous tone, he was holding his hand out to Butters.
“Oh!” The blonde boy said in realization. He opened his backpack and handed the fat boy a folder. Eric opened it and began to examine the enclosed documents.
“Your handwriting is too God damn messy you black assh*le! I might loose points because of it!” A rotten frown was spread across his plump face.
“Wuh-well Eric, your handwriting usually is messy. Mrs. Garrison at least won’t suspect that I did your project for you.” Butters offered, hoping to defuse the situation.
“She better not suspect anything Butters.” Cartman responded, threatening the smaller boy with a dark glare.
Butters closed his locker and prepared to walk to class. But before he could walk away, he was slammed hard against the lockers. Butters never got the chance to respond to Cartman’s violent actions. He was now pinned by Eric’s iron hand, gasping for breath. He began to tremble as he looked into the dark amber eyes of the large boy in front of him.
“It seems that my mom forgot to give me my lunch money today. I will need you to, hmm what’s the word? Ah, loan, yes loan me some.” He said in very diplomatic tone.
“Um well, Eric I dunno. I-I kinda don’t got any money.” Butters answered back, without looking away from the Cartman’s malevolent eyes.
“Butters, your terrible liar, so don’t f*cking try.”
Cartman didn’t see the need to coax Butters into giving him what he wanted. He simply slipped his hand into Butter’s back pocket and grabbed the boy’s wallet. The stress of separating Velcro echoed through the halls as he opened it and stuck his fat fingers inside. Butters simply stood there helplessly as he watched Cartman fished out a crisp twenty dollar bill. Suddenly his heart lurched, causing him to break his submissive silence.
“Oh no Eric! Please! My grandma gave me that!”
“Shut the f*ck up! This is MIEN!” The other responded in his typical whiney voice while holding the money up at Butters’ face. Eric then tossed Butters’ nearly depleted wallet back at the poor boy’s feet and strode off.
Luckily, Butters was able to withhold the tears that were beginning to water in his eyes.
“Crying is for the weak, and you’re not weak.”
He thought to himself. He bent over and retrieved his wallet from the dirty hallway floor.
“At least Eric is so short sighted that he didn’t pay attention to all the one dollar bills I’ve still got in here. I’ll still have enough for lunch.” He muttered to himself as he evaluated the object. A second later the bell rang and Butters suddenly realized that he was all alone in the hallways.
“Oh hamburgers, not again!” He cried out as took off running to his classroom.
Ms. Garrison had already begun her lecture when Butters entered the room.
“Butters! You’re late to my class again!”
“I-I’m sorry ma’am, I swear it won’t happen again.” Butters mewed as he took his seat near the front of the classroom.
“That’s what you said last time numb nuts! See me after class.”
“Yes ma’am” Butters somberly answered.
Ms. Garrison resumed her comical and biased lecture on the peaceful history of the Middle East. A few hours later, the bell rang and the fourth grade students of Ms. Garrison’s class poured out the door to eat lunch. Butters stood out from the crowd as he approached the teacher’s desk.
“You wanted to talk to me Ms. Garrison?” Butters asked, while nervously kneading his knuckles together.
“Butters it seems you have been having some serious problems lately.”
“P-Problems? Like what?”
“Well for starters, have you seen what you got on your geography test last week?” The teacher asked.
She reached into a drawer in her desk and withdrew a stapled set of papers. And with a flop, one of the papers landed in front of her student. Butters was horrified to see a gnarly looking F minus scratched on top of the page. What was even more discomforting was that he could remember studying long and hard for that test. From the sunny state of California, to the distant Maine in the east, he had memorized the names of every state capital.
Butters examined the test closer and he couldn’t believe that he would have written down that Austin is the capital of Montana. He continued to look down the page to find that he had answered every single question incorrectly, the blood drained from his cold face as he realized the grave situation that he was in. But then he noticed something very peculiar, on the top of the page was written his name, ‘Leopald Scotch’. Butters could never remember a time that he wrote his real name on anything but government registration forms. The handwriting on the test was sloppy and yet oddly familiar. Slowly, a creepy sensation of realization was enveloping him as the scenes from a memory entered his train of thought.
It was an unusually warm summer day at South Park Elementary School. The fourth glade classroom was stifling hot, even with all the windows wide open. Butters’ blonde hair was soaked in his own sweat. His face was concentrated on the paper in front of him, his hand whipping it occasionally to keep the streams of perspiration rolling down his temples from smudging the ink on the page. The rest of the class was locked in a similar struggle. Wendy was silently whispering to herself while moving her pencil across the test, checking the accuracy of all her answers for the third time. Stan’s asthma was completely agitated by the ripe, heat filled air. He gasped in a fresh dose of medicine from his inhaler while examining his test with his light blue eyes. Eric Cartman, however, had his own eyes fixed solidly on Ms. Garrison. The teacher was oblivious to this since she was busy humming along to the lesbian folk music playing on her iPod while filing her nails smooth.
Butters finally dropped his pencil down to his desk, and began to get up from his desk. Cartman saw his moment of opportunity had arrived.
“Butters” Cartman whispered at the boy who was sitting next to him. Butters snapped a cautious glance at Cartman.
“Let me see your test for second, I just need to check one of my answers.” Cartman asked quietly.
“N-No Eric, I-I…” Butters began, but the look of death on Cartman’s face immediately made him reconsider. Cartman’s eyes were narrowed into small slits, telepathically telling Butters of the doom that awaited him if he continued to resist. Resolved to escape this fate, the smaller boy discreetly passed his test to Eric. He then glanced up to notice that Garrison was daydreaming while starring blankly into the ceiling, her iPod volume so high that he could hear the music in his far corner of the room.
Cartman took far less time then Butters expected him to need in order to compare answers. When he was done, Butters snatched his paper back and turned it in to his teacher. Butters returned to his seat, only for Eric to shoot him a big, malicious smile that spread from ear to ear. This puzzled the other boy for a while, he didn’t truly find out the meaning behind it until now. His mind flipped back into the present.
“Ms. Garrison ma’am, this ain’t my test. Someone must‘ve switched mine out with theirs.” Butters said, being careful not to name Eric Cartman. The consequences of helping a cheater were far more severe then just an F on a test.
“What makes you think that sugar tits?” Garrison responded in a skeptical tone.
“Well uh, I never write my real name like that. It ain’t even spelled right.” Butters said, trying to convince his teacher.
“That’s right; you lost even more points for misspelling your own god damn name.”
Butters opened his mouth to object further, but his teacher cut him off,
“Enough! I will not be lied to by a nine year old little boy! There’s no way that this isn’t your test Butters. I’ve had these tests with me from the moment you turned them in. So I suggest you stop before you get yourself into even more trouble.”
Ms. Garrison’s student was shocked and unable to believe in what he was hearing.
“You’ve been late to class three times this week.” She said. Butters once again tried to defend himself,
“B-but Eric Cartman…”
“This has nothing to do with Eric; I’m talking about YOU Butters! I don’t tolerate tardiness to my class. And don’t you dare try to make up an excuse for it.” Her tone was noticeably angrier.
“You can’t keep your smartass comments to yourself and you still make silly faces at me. I’ve had it Butters! I’ve already called your parents; we will all be having a conference on Monday to discuss your appalling behavior.”
“Y-you t-told my p-parents?” he stuttered out in a force whisper.
“I did Butters, it seems like it will be the best way for me to finally reach you. Now go eat lunch and don’t be late coming back.” Garrison finished with her finger pointing straight at the door.
Butters looked back up at his teacher, his icy blues eye were filled with unspoken sorrow.
“GET!!” she yelled impatiently, making the boy flinch.
Butters immediately hopped off the chair and ran down the hallway towards the school cafeteria. The lunch period was nearly over. With his appetite stipend and most his money in the fat clutches of Eric Cartman, Butters bought a carton of milk from the lunch line. Sipping on the soothing white liquid, he set out to find a place to sit. His usual spot next to Stan and Kyle was taken today by Jimmy Volmar. Butters looked over to find Craig’s table completely filled with his usual posse. He finally found a seat next to the solitary Kevin Chang. The Chinese boy, who rarely spoke, was concentrating on his book. He gave Butters the annoyed look of someone who wanted to be left alone as the other took his seat. But Butters didn’t care, so he remained planted in his seat. The conversation he had just had with Ms. Garrison was replaying itself in his head. What was he going to say to his parents? The bell soon rang and two hundred kids took off racing towards the playground for recess.
Recess filled Butters with hope; perhaps he could get his mind onto better things. He quietly lined up next to the other boys of his class as Stan and Craig each took turns selecting players for their football team. The group of students who were waiting to get picked got smaller and smaller until Butters discovered that he was standing all alone. Without a word, Stan and Craig turned to their respective teams and began to organize their players. He was surprised by this; usually Stan picked him right after Kyle.
“Hey Stan, why didn’t you pick me?” Butters called out to Stan. The other boy turned around to him with an expression of annoyance. He sighed at Butters and said,
“Butters, you’ve been playing horribly dude. You fumbled the ball three times yesterday. I’m trying someone else today.” Stan turned his back on the other boy and returned to his team.
With his hope of having a fun recess crushed, Butters walked over to the secluded section of the playground behind the monkey bars. He found a comfortable spot underneath a large oak tree and plopped himself down on it. After looking around to find himself all alone, he buried his face into his hands.
Could this day get any worse?
“Is that you Leopold?” A polite voice called out from behind him.
“Oh, h-hey Pip.” Butters tried to greet the kid with false happiness.
“Why the long face Leopold?” Pip asked as he examined his friend’s body language.
Butters shook his head; he never understood why Pip couldn’t just call him Butters like everyone else.
“Oh, i-its nothing. I’m just tired.” Butters lied. Pip was always fun to play with, but he wasn’t good at listening to others.
“Very well then, I shall go see if Stanley will let me play American football with him.”
Pip wandered off, leaving Butters there in his spot beneath the tree. The bell finally rang and Butters reluctantly returned to his class to weather out the remainder of the day.
Butters passed the remainder of the afternoon by taking note on Mrs. Garrison’s lecture over the industrial revolution. The final bell of the day rang, releasing the students to their weekend festivities. With his mind numbed by the newly arrived freedom of the weekend, Butters skipped his way home. He immediately got to work on cleaning his room; perhaps if it was good enough, his parents wouldn’t be very sore with him. The slam of the front door announced their arrival and the foolishness of that notion.
Butters trembled his way down the stairs to find both of his parents staring at him with an apprehensive look. His mother initiated the terrifying ordeal,
“Butters, your teacher called us today at work. I was shocked to hear what she said about you. You! My son!”
Butters rubbed his knuckles together, hoping that it would quickly pass.
“You got an F on a test?! And then you tried to lie about it?! And what did we say about making silly faces?” Linda shouted, stopping to catch her breath.
“I-I’m sorry mom” was all that Butters could say in the overwhelming disappointment of his parents. His father now took over,
“Sorry isn’t going to do it this time buster, your mother and I now have to take time off from work to go talk to your teacher next Monday. You are grounded mister!”
Those last four words took a moment to sink in for Butters. The worst of his fears had been realized, and his weekend was now completely ruined. His chin lowered itself to his chest.
“Get upstairs to your room right now mister!” His father commanded in his voice that resembled a Marine Corps drill sergeant.
Butters retreated to the safety of his room and sat himself at his desk, which faced the only window in his room.
“Grounded again for something I didn’t do.”
Butters thought and couldn’t help it but feel very depressed. He moved closer to gaze out his window. A utopian spring time Friday afternoon was playing out before his eyes. He could make out the figures of Stan, Kyle, Kenny and many of his other classmates playing soccer out on the fields near his house. On the street two homes down, Bebe and Wendy were jumping rope; their other girlfriends were watching them while giggling with each other. On the opposite end of the street, Richard Tweek was joined by Jimbo and Randy Marsh on lawn chairs. They too were laughing with each other while taking liberals sips from their cans of beer. Everyone was enjoying the magnificent weather and soft, majestic evening sunlight, all of them except for Butters.
Instead, Butters decided to keep himself occupied with his latest project. A huge model of the Sears Tower in Chicago was constructed out of thousands of blocks of plastic, multicolored Lego blocks in the corner of his room. As he examined the progress of his creation, he heaved out a sigh of frustration. The money that Eric had stolen from him earlier that day was going to be used to buy more blocks for the completion of the skyscraper. At least he still had the materials to make the buildings that surrounded the tower. Boutiques, delis and a Harbucks coffee shop soon surrounded the tower. Daring only to leave his room for the bathroom; he worked well into the night until he could barely keep his eyes open. A tired, hungry and disheartened Butter climbed into his bed and descended into deep sleep.
Update Soon!Its a good story!
Butters woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Renewed optimism filled him with the hope that this day would turn out much better for him. Still wearing his pajamas, Butters entered the vacant kitchen. He found a note on the counter, written in his father’s scratchy handwriting.
Your mother and I have gone shopping in Denver for the day. You are not to leave the house, turn on the TV or touch the computer. Enclosed is a list of chores you are to complete before we get home this evening.
Mom and Dad
1. Clean your room
2. Vacuum the living room and dining room
3. Dust the shelves in the study
4. Wash the dishes
5. Mop the kitchen floor
Butters felt overwhelmed as he read the list. He was going to need to work quickly to complete all of these tasks on time. The young boy continued sing energetically as rolled the vacuum cleaner over a particularly stubborn stain on the living room floor until the door bell rang.
“Who could that be?” Butters wondered to himself out loud.
He opened the door to find Eric Cartman gleaming at him with his arms tucked smartly behind his back.
“Hello Butters.” Eric greeted him.
“Oh, hey Eric,” The other responded, glad that he was no longer lonely in his own home.
Cartman immediately stepped past Butters and entered the living room, tracking mud onto the freshly cleaned carpet.
“E-Eric, I don’t really think you can come over and play. I’m grounded and I’ve got a mighty big list of chores that I’ve gotta get done.” Butters said nervously. Was Eric going to get him into trouble again?
”I didn’t come here for that.” The other replied with a sneer. “I came here to get your help.”
Cartman placed his hands together, as if he were offering someone a business proposal.
“Well uh, w-what can I help you with Eric?” Butters asked in a puzzled voice. He rubbed his knuckles together as he hopelessly attempted to decipher the other boy’s motive.
Cartman turned his back and began to pace slowly; his eyes were solidly fixed on the living room carpet as he slowly thought of the right words to say.
“As you may know Butters, Roger Clemens has just joined the New York Yankees. His old Astros baseball cards have all been antiquated. They are now selling for an average of one hundred dollars on Ebay.”
”Okay…” Butters acknowledged, unsure of what direction this conversation was going.
“Now pay attention Butters because it gets complicated here, we being in such a small town have not yet sold out all of the older packs of baseball cards that would contain an Astros Roger Clemens card. I calculate that Walmart has several cases of them still in stock. I need you to go in there for me and get all of the Roger Clemens cards.”
“Well, can’t you just go get them yourself?” Butters asked.
“No, that assh*le manager banned me from the store yesterday. He says I’ve been running around the store blacking out all of the barcodes on the merchandise.” Cartman vented aloud, a look of contempt spread across his fat face.
“But Eric, I c-cant help you. I’m grounded and can’t leave the house. Besides Eric, that sounds an awful lot like stealing to me a-and stealing ain’t right.”
Eric Cartman stared back at Butters with a cold and calculating look.
“Selfish as usual Butters. You always think about yourself before anyone else. I should have known better. But if you think your parents are pissed off at you now, just wait and see how mad they’ll be when I get off of the phone with them.” He responded with a malevolent smile that spread from ear to ear.
“W-wait! What’re you gonna tell them?” Butters reacted to Eric’s threat with panic.
“Oh, just how they are such dickwads and that they should go f*ck themselves.” Cartman responded in an impressive imitation of Butters’ voice. He walked over to the phone on a nearby table and picked up the receiver.
“No Eric! Please! Please don’t do that!” Butters screamed as he raced over to Eric. His heart was filled with sheer horror as he fell down to his knees in front of Cartman.
“I-I’ll do anything, anything! Just don’t make my parents mad it me like that again!” Butters pleaded in desperation. His blue eyes were fixed on the other boy’s face, distorted with tears of pure fear. Eric Cartman formed a demonic grin as he stared back at the blonde boy in front of him. He was happy to have this minion at his mercy once again, so he set the receiver back on its place.
“I knew you would come through Butters. Now let’s go, it shouldn’t take long. And if you’re fast and lucky, your parents will never notice you left.” The fat boy said in an assuring voice. Butters got up and whipped his eyes, as he tried to believe what Eric told him.
“Now remember Butters, only take the cards with Roger Clemens. There should be one in every ten packs.” Cartman said.
“Ah gee wiz, I’ve gotta open a lot of them then?!” Butters breathed out in realization of the daunting task before him.
“You’re going to check every pack in the entire store dick face! Now get in there!” The other responded as he shoved Butters in the direction of the entrance.
“Welcome to Walmart!” croaked the voice of Marvin Marsh as Butters entered the fluorescent light bathed store. His heart was racing; as fresh adrenaline saturated his blood, making his head throb with anticipation. He had, of course, spent many hours in the store earlier this week committing his acts of terror and chaos, so navigating through the massive complex was easy for Butters. The closer he got to the trading cards section, the faster his pulse raged. Finally, Butters found himself standing in front of a huge shelf crammed full of trading cards. He found the wrapped packages that Eric described to him on the bottom shelf, carelessly ticked away from the casual shopper. Butters took a meticulous glance around the area to ensure that he was alone.
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”
He thought as he tore the first wrapper open.
It didn’t take long for him to search the entire case of cards for the ones Eric wanted. As Butters finished sifting through the final deck that he just unwrapped, he heard a loud “Ahem” behind him. The boy spun around to find a uniformed security guard staring at him. The man’s eyebrows were furled apprehensively and his arms firmly crossed.
“Can I help you find something?” he asked the boy in front of him in an edgy voice. Butters was still too horrified to answer him. The guard instead reached down to examine one of the recently plundered packs of cards. This was all he needed to confirm his suspicions.
“Come with me” He coldly told his new prisoner.
Butters soon found himself in the dark security office of the store. A desk was positioned in the middle of the room with papers and empty coffee cups were spread across every square inch of it. The wall directly behind the desk was covered from floor to ceiling with video monitors. Each screen gave a hawk-like view of every individual aisle of the enormous store. The security guard sat down at the desk, leaving Butters to stand in front of him.
“Why were you opening all of those baseball cards?” the guard said to break the long silence. His eyes were fixed on Butters, searching for any hints of deceit.
Butters was completely unprepared for this. Eric told him how to avoid detection, but didn’t tell him a thing about escaping from security guards. With his panicked little brain unable to think of a better response, he said,
“Well uh, I was looking for a c-certain b-baseball card.”
“So you decided to ruin all that merchandise without paying for it?” The man countered as he got up from his chair.
“Take off your clothes, now!”
Butters obeyed and removed his shirt and pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor. The guard sifted through the pockets of his pants and his shirt, he frowned when he didn’t find what he was looking for.
“All of them!” He commanded.
Butters, who had only his briefs on slid them down, his face turned bright red in humiliation as he did so. A pile of cards that were held by the elastic of his underwear fell to the floor. The guard picked them up off the floor and held them in front of the boy.
“Do you have an explanation for this?” he growled at Butters.
“N-n-no sir” he muttered in a barely audible voice.
The security guard returned to his desk and picked up the phone.
“Yes, Officer Barbrady? Yes it’s Wes from Wall-Mart again. Yeah I’m doing alright. Hey, I’ve got another shoplifter for you. Yeah he’s pretty young, tried to steal baseball cards. Alright, see you soon.”
Wesley hung up the phone and looked up to Butters, who was still naked and shivering in the cold air conditioned room.
“Get dressed son, Officer Barbrady will be here soon.”
Eric Cartman was waiting impatiently in the sun baked parking lot. He paced back in forth between the stationary cars in a hopeless attempt to subdue his anxiety.
“Where is he?” Cartman wondered out loud to himself. It shouldn’t have taken him that long to grab the goods and come out. His nervous pondering was disrupted when he saw a police cruiser pull up in front of the store. Cartman stopped pacing to carefully watch two figures emerge from the entrance of the store.
“Oh sh*t dude.” Cartman swore under his breath. The smaller figure turned out to be Butters, who was now being handcuffed by Barbrady. His friend was then ushered into the back seat of the cruiser. A few seconds later, the car left the parking lot, carrying Butters off to jail.
Angry at his friend’s latest attempt to screw him over, Cartman stormed off in the direction of his home. His mind occupied with plans to get revenge on the boy who had just failed him.
“Right this way kid.” Barbrady called out as he led Butters into the police station.
The Park County police station was abuzz with activity. Butters glanced around to see police officers in cubicles, pouring over large files and talking into their cell phones. The two progressed through this large room into a much interrogation smaller room. Butters instantly recognized this room as being identical to the one he was brought into when he was accused of TPing the art teacher’s house.
His previous experience consisted of being drugged and interrogated for many hours; he was then punished at home by his parents for confessing to a crime he never committed. These memories made butters more and more nervous as he was seated at a table. On the other end of the table was Sergeant Yates. The veteran police officer was currently talking to someone on his Bluetooth headset while taking large swigs from his cigarette. Officer Barbrady removed Butters’ handcuffs and stood behind the boy, waiting for Yates to finish his phone call.
“Alright Jenkins, I’ll talk to you later, after lunch.” The sergeant said as he tapped a button on the headset. He then pulled out a folder full of empty forms along with a ballpoint pen from his shirt pocket.
“So, we’ve got ourselves a thief here. What’s your name thief?”
“Butters Stotch sir” Butters replied back.
“Butters huh? Is that your real name son?”
“Wuh-well, n-no sir, m-my real first name is Leopold.” Butters answered back, he was rubbing his fists together with intense discomfort. Yates was busy jotting down Butters’ answers, he then asked,
“How old are you?”
“Well, let’s see, nine and a half. M-My birthday is in September.”
“And do you know your social security number?” Yates countered. The blank stare on Butters’ terrified face gave him his answer.
“Your parents, what are they’re names and what phone number can I use to contact them?” Yates demanded from Butters, who now looked back in renewed horror.
“C-Chris a-and Linda sir.” The told Yates and then proceeded to give him his father’s phone number. Yates dialed the number into his phone and began to talk into his headset again,
“Yes, is this Mr. Chris Stotch? Excellent, my name is Sergeant Yates and I’m with the Park County Police Department. Yes, well I am calling regards to your son. Yes, Butters. We just brought him in; he was just caught steeling cards from Wal-Mart. Yes sir, I can understand your surprise. Ok, we will hold him until you arrive.” Sergeant Yates turned to Barbrady, who was quietly standing behind Butters with a dull look on his face and said,
“Put him in a cell till his parents get here.”
Butters soon found himself inside of a room that was no larger then his parent’s walk-in closet. The floor, walls and ceiling were all covered in blinding white paint. This featureless prison did little to hamper the panicked thought of Butters. He passed the short time by trying to come up with an explanation that would stand a chance against the rage of his own father. Unfortunately, he didn’t get much time since the steel door that enclosed his cage, soon slid back open. Chris Stotch was standing at the door, staring demons and daggers at his son.
“Just sign here Mr. Stotch and you can take him home.” Barbrady said in his lazy monotone voice. Chris signed the bail release form and pointed for Butters to follow him.
He grew more and more nervous with each silent second that passed in the backseat of the car. After what seemed an eternity to Butters, the care pulled into the driveway of his home.
“Get in the living room right now.” His father commanded as he got out of the drivers seat. When all three of the Stotches were in the living room of the house, it began. Butters was shaking from head to toe, his hands were firmly locked together and his face was drained of even an ounce of blood. Chris continued to look at Butters with bold rage, while Linda looked down at her son with indescribable disappointment.
“So, you decided to take advantage of your Mother and I’s absence to go and rob a store. It’s bad enough that you’re flunking tests, now you’re a goddamned criminal!”
“B-but Dad, I-I…”
Butters was quickly knocked to ground by the shock of the blow he just received. His fathers’ hand was shaking from the recoil of the attack. The boy was now sobbing uncontrollably while nursing his wounded chin.
“Don’t you dare to ever talk back to me!” Chris shouted at the top of his lungs.
“I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I am Butters. You can never just behave yourself or do anything right. Your mother and I have spent nine years giving you everything but our lives to you. You are a failure Butters and I can’t believe that your actually my son. Now go to your room and don’t ever come out!”
Butters face was bright red and wet from his tears. He nodded in acknowledgement of his father’s harsh words. Once he was on his feet, he ran upstairs and into his room. When the door was closed behind him, he dove into his bed while burying his face into his pillow. Butters cried and cried until the exhaustion of his own sorrow put him to sleep.
“Chris I don’t know, that was harsh, way too harsh. You shouldn’t have hit him.” Linda finally said.
“Honey, how else will he learn?” Chris responded defensively.
“But you never even gave him a chance. Maybe he was innocent, or one of his friends made him do it. He’s our son Chris, our only son. He should never loose trust in his own parents.” Linda lamented sadly as the images of her child crying remained in her eyes.
Chris stopped pacing to stare at the large family photo that hung on the wall behind the couch. He remembered taking that photo with them; Butters had a huge grin from ear to ear, happy to be there with his parents.
“I need a drink.” Chris announced.
“Don’t stay out too long Chris.” His wife called back to him as he grabbed his keys and walked out the front door.
Linda continued to sit all alone there in the living room, quietly thinking to herself. The emotions and memories of nine years of motherhood rolled through her head. The pain and joy of giving birth to her first and only son, and the praise she got from her father-in-law for naming him Leopold, the same name as his grandfather. She could recall a particular Christmas when Butters was five years old. He worked all day long helping her bake cookies and then tried to stay up to see Santa Claus visit him.
Linda now got up and entered the kitchen to fix herself a solitary dinner. The refrigerator was covered in many papers and pictures that were held in place by magnets. One picture stood out more then any other. It was a hand drawn picture that Butters gave to his mom for Mothers Day. The drawing had him snuggled into Linda’s arms; they were both resting in a field of flowers.
“How good of an artist he is…”
She thought to herself as her interest for food dwindled. Bed sounded like a better idea, so Linda walked upstairs to her bedroom. The hallway was dark except for the light that was creeping out from beneath Butters’ bedroom door. She suddenly felt the urge to set things straight with her son, so she opened his bedroom door. To Linda’s disappointment, Butters was fast asleep in his bed. She noticed that he hadn’t changed into his pajamas or even bothered to take his shoes off. Her son’s face was half buried into his pillow, the other half was stained with his dried up tears. Linda moved to the bed and covered her son with his warm, quilted blanket. She then stroked his face once and whispered,
“Oh Butters, how can I let you be so unhappy. You are my baby boy and you have always made me so happy. Everything will be better tomorrow.”
She then leaned down to kiss Butters on the cheek. He was still fast asleep when Linda turned off the bedroom light. She still looked at her peaceful child as she closed his bedroom door.
Thanks for the feedback guys. I have the next 3 chapters already written. I'm just typing them up and editing. Don't worry, things will get better for Butters.
The room was suddenly filled with a blinding flash of lightning. A huge panoramic window that stretched from floor to ceiling showed a menacing thunderstorm swirling across the sky. It was followed by a loud crash of thunder made the floor rumble. Butters found himself sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair planted in the center of the large room. His hands and feet were strapped in place by thick leather bands. He looked up to see seven shadows sitting behind a bench in front of him. It was currently impossible to make out their faces in the dim light. There was boy was standing directly behind him, his husky figure and mop of brown hair helped to identify him as Clyde. He stood at attention while maintaining an emotionless gaze at the people in front of him. The feel and smell of the room made Butters that he was in a courtroom.
“Do you know why you’re here?” said a dark and familiar voice in front of Butters.
The shadow that was perched in the most elevated chair leaned forward, it was Eric Cartman. The menacing boy was once again staring down at his favorite victim.
“Let this special court come to order!” Eric announced, his voice was accompanied by another violent series of thunderbolts outside the window. The blinding flashes of light revealed the faces of the other members of the special tribunal. To Cartman’s right sat Stan, Kyle and Kenny. To his left were his parents and Mrs. Garrison.
“Tribune Kenny McCormick will read the charges to the court.”
Kenny stood up on his feet. He had replaced his orange parka with a set of flowing black robes. His shoulder length dirty blonde hair was neatly pulled back into a pony tail.
“Leopold Stotch, you are brought before this court to answer for the following crimes.” said Kenny in his scratchy, un-muffled voice.
“Item number one: sabotaging the efforts of the citizens of South Park to make money and pursue happiness.”
He took a moment to clear his voice and then he continued,
“Item number two: being a loser who has no friends or cool interests.”
“Item number three: refusing to play World of Warcraft instead of Hello Kitty Island Adventure.”
“Item number four: being a disgrace to his own family and talking back to his own father.”
Kenny sat back down in his seat to indicate that he was finished. Butters’ face reflected the shocked horror in his heart. How would he answer such charges?
“You have heard the charges Butters, how do you plead?” The voice of Cartman demanded.
“Nuh-not guilty.” Butters hastily spat out. The traumatic situation was making it difficult for Butters to breath, much less speak.
“Then this panel of judges will now determine your guilt.” Cartman responded, his face overtaken by a diabolic smile. Butters quickly started to plead,
“L-Look fellas, I c-can’t possib…”
“The accused will not speak unless spoken to.” Shouted the shadowy figure of Butters’ father; his teeth were exposed in pure aggression.
“You have no right to defend yourself here Butters.” Cartman added with a smirk. Butters closed his mouth as he realized the graveness of the situation.
“All in favor of finding the accused guilty as charged?” Cartman announced as he raised his fat arm into the air.
“Who would be friends with this weakass prick?” Kyle laughed as he raised his hand in favor of convicting Butters.
“You are no son of mine.” Echoed Chris Stotch from the other end of the bench as his hand joined the other judges.
Butters looked around the room to find that all seven judges had raised their hands.
“This panel has found you guilty on all charges!” Cartman concluded as he continued to stare down at Butters, his eyes piercing into the essence of the other boy’s soul. He then began the sentencing,
“Butters, you are the most pathetic form of life in existence. This court hereby orders that you be put to death immediately. Bailiff Clyde, take this piece of sh*t to the darkest place in the mountains and bury him alive. Place him in a tomb of rock so deep that we may never hear or see this creature ever again.”
“Noooo!” Butters screamed in defiance. It couldn’t end for him, not now, not this way.
Clyde approached Butters chair so that he may carry out Cartman’s strict orders. The boy, trapped in the feeble chair was desperate to escape. So he did about the only thing that his panicked little mind told him to do. His violent movements made the chair flip over to its side and the sharp pain of landing on the floor shook Butters back to consciousness.
“It was just a dream…”
He assured himself. His shoulder was still throbbing in pain since it took most of the impact from his tumble out of bed. But that wasn’t the only thing troubling the boy, his stomach was screaming protest; depraved of any nourishment. Butters got up from the cold floor and moved across the room so that he may quietly open his bedroom door. The hallway was dark and deathly quiet. His parents were asleep and unable berate him any further, even for going to the bathroom. Butters tiptoed his way to toilet and relieved himself of what felt like every drop of water left in his body. When he was done, he snuck his way downstairs to the kitchen.
The smooth ceramic tiles of the kitchen floor were painfully cold to Butters’ uncovered feet. But he didn’t care. The bright blue LED lights on all the high tech appliances of the kitchen made it easy for Butters to navigate his way to the refrigerator. After rummaging through its contents for a few seconds, Butters found himself several slices of cold pizza and a bottle of milk. He tore into his late night dinner leaving only crumbs and an empty glass bottle untouched.
Butters returned to his room and sat at his bed. He wanted to go back to sleep, but the images of the nightmare consumed his innermost thoughts and feelings.
“How much of that was real and how much was fantasy”
He wondered in the front of his mind. The most haunting thing that bothered Butters was that every single person that he loved or cared about was in that nightmare. Did all of his friends and family really want him dead?
Stan, Kyle and Kenny all eagerly sentenced him to death.
“But those are my best buddies…aren’t they?”
Butters quickly recognized how untrue that really was as his mind relived the recent events of the past. It always seemed that the other three boys were eager to ditch him in favor of anyone else. Actually, there seemed to very few times that Stan or Kyle willingly chose to hang out with him.
Then there was Eric Cartman. Butters used to think that he was his best friend, but he quickly learned better. Eric would only tolerate his presence when he needed Butters help. And Butters knew that his relationship with Cartman was saturated with abuse. He just got arrested for trying to steal stuff for Eric yesterday. Just a few weeks ago, he got sent to a gay camp because Cartman tried to molest him.
“If only I was strong enough to stand up to him…”
Butters wished. His were emotions overwhelmed by the malice of Eric pushing him around. This only got worse as his thoughts progressed to his parents. And on that subject, Butters could only sigh in unimaginable frustration. His father was never happy with anything that he did, no matter how hard Butters tried to impress him. Sure his mother was nicer and more sympathetic, but not when he really needed her protection from his abusive father. She always just went along with him.
“My parents are convinced that I am behind everything bad.”
Butters was now trying hard to restrain the tears that his dark feelings were producing. How could the two people that he loved most in this world hate him with such a passion?
He got up from his bed to gaze into the large mirror near his door. A short and slim boy stood there. Two piercing shards of blue ice that were his eyes looked back at him. Oh how ashamed he felt of himself,
“Here is the dreg of society, a waste of life.”
Everyone in this town viewed him as such and nothing he did seemed to change that. What could he do? Could he escape this miserable life?
This thought was followed by a wave of anger. He never contemplated leaving the home that he had spent his entire life in. But now everything that made this place seem like home was slipping away. He was living a hollow life of delusions. Butters knew he had to find a place where he would be appreciated, a place that he could find love.
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and grabbed the small tin box hidden in it. Inside the box was a collection of Butters’ most prized possessions. Several gold medals from his tap dancing career, a photo album, his grandfather’s dog tags and a crisp $100 bill. There was also a DVD that contained the footage of Eric Cartman cross-dressing as Brittney Spears and a stack of letters held together by a rubber band. Butters grabbed those letters and sat in his desk chair. He opened the top envelope and re-read the letter within.
I hope that everything turned out ok for you. What kind of cruel friends would make you fake your own death and then make you dress up like a girl? Your parents must have been so worried. I will admit though that a cutie like you would make a great girl. Anyways, it’s starting to get really cold up here. Daddy’s been working a lot in the shop to get all of the cars in town ready for winter. I can’t believe that Christmas is only a month away. Have you written to Santa yet? I better get back to writing my essay for English; please write back to me as soon as possible sweetie.
The letter had a small photo stapled to the top of it. A girl with curly brown hair and sparkling blue eyes looked back at Butters. She was sitting in the middle of the autumn forest; the ground was completely covered in red leaves. Her kitten named Flowers was snuggled in her lap and she had a large grin presented for the camera. Butters put the letter back into the envelope and flipped through the other envelopes till he found the latest and last letter he received from his distant girlfriend.
I’m sorry that I haven’t written to you for a few weeks. Please know that it is as difficult for me to write this as it will be for you to read it. But I am writing this letter to let you know that I am seeing someone else. He’s a boy that goes to the same school as me. He’s a lot of fun and is a total sweetheart; you two would probably get along really well. I’m really sorry Butters, but this long distance relationship just isn’t working out. You’re such a cute and sweet guy, but I never get to see you since I live in Michigan and you live in Colorado. These letters and the occasional phone call seem to be our only line of communication and I just need something more intimate. I still hope that we can be friends.
Despite the fact that Butters had already read and analyzed every word of that letter, his heart still ached with its painful revelation. His girlfriend had dumped him, and he wouldn’t be able to run away and live with her. Butters shoved the letter back into his treasure box and picked up $100 bill. The printed face of Benjamin Franklin on a piece of paper was all that represented his life’s savings. He carefully folded the bill and slipped it into his front pocket. Then, he grabbed his school backpack that was near the door and emptied it. Books, notes and pencils all fell to the floor as Butters made room for other , more important items. He first stuffed in a change of clothing from his drawers, followed by the small tin box. He also retrieved his MP3 player from its charger on the desk and the cell phone that his parents gave to him for use in case of emergency. Going back down to the kitchen, he stole a loaf of bread, several candy bars and a bottle of coke. All of these were placed in his backpack. Once he felt prepared for his journey he sat back down at his desk.
“Where will I go?”
He pulled a map of the United States out from the top drawer of his desk. Denver was way too close to South Park for him to hide from his parents. His Aunt Nelly would probably find him if he went to Los Angeles. Butters now traced his finger over the east coast. New York was so far away from him; he had no idea how he would get there. Frustrated, Butters glanced to his side and his eye fell on is large model of the Sear tower.
Butters placed his finger over the city on the map. He remembered visiting the city when his grandparents were there last thanksgiving. His heart rushed with excitement as he revisited his memories of the city. The skyscrapers towering around him and the streets were lined with wood paneled shops that sold everything from toys to chocolate candies. A resolute smile formed across Butters’ face. His plan was set; all he had to do is act on it.
He grabbed a blank piece of paper and a pencil from the scattered debris on the floor and began to scribble his final note to his family.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I am sorry that I failed you both as your son. I suppose all I can do is leave you both alone.
“Nobody around to stop me, not like they’d be able to,” Butters whispered to himself with a wicked grin.
Butters traveled through the deserted streets and fields. The moon was towering high above his head, radiating a silver glow across the landscape that made it possible for him to progress to his destination. The young traveler remembered his father telling him that all trains passing through South Park were going to Chicago. Butters decided to trust in his father one last time and see if a train would get him out of this town forever.
The rumble of an idle locomotive vibrated through the massive cargo containers that were stacked around the rail yard. Butters made his way closer to the noise and sure enough, there was a train parked there. It was waiting for workers to finish unloading it and Butters could hear them laughing and swearing from just a few yards away. Butters worked quickly to find an unlocked boxcar to hide in. The one that he managed open was full of boxes that seemed to contain papers. He settled in to a place in the corner right as he heard a worker yell out at the top of his lungs,
“Ok Steve, we got the last of it unloaded. You’re good to go!”
The engineer made Butters jump as he emitted several long blares from the train’s horn. Then, the massive machine lurched forward. The boy moved back to the partially open boxcar door. The town of South Park passed him by, never to be seen again.
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