Despite what Eric Cartman had to say, Kyle Broflovski was never one to weasel out what was expected of him. He took care of his little brother Ike when his father was too busy preparing for a case and his mother was too engrossed in her latest crusade; he did his homework to the best of his very considerable ability; and he always made time to put up with his friends no matter how much they tended to pester him.

But when Friday morning arrived, Kyle Broflovski came damn close to hiding out under his bed.

Tugging his tired body from under the comforters, Kyle yawned, scratched himself, and let his tired eyes wander around the room where they eventually landed upon his normally pristine calendar which was now tarnished where someone had circled the current date in red ink so vigorously it almost covered the entire block of space. Above it, in a messy scrawl, someone had printed 'DATE NIGHT!!!'.

Kyle groaned. Stan's exuberance over the entire debacle had been stewing all week, and he was sure to be completely unbearable today.

After his shower, he made his way downstairs where his family was sitting down to breakfast. His father was busy scanning the morning paper, while his mother was setting dishes on the table. Kyle sullenly took his place at his usual seat.

"Why so glum, Kyle?" Sheila raised immediately, her back still turned to the three of them. Kyle didn't question it. His mother always knew.

"Nothing, mom, I'm fine," he said monotonously.

His father peeked out over the wilting top of the paper. "Cheer up, son," he said before promptly burying himself behind the newsprint again.

Kyle rolled his eyes but couldn't keep from smirking at his dad's lax attempt.

Ike, who had been busy coloring random stripes into a blank piece of paper with his set of crayons, suddenly squished the palm of his hand into Kyle's nose. "Face."

"Ike!" Kyle shook his head instinctively as if to swat away his half-brother's hand.

Sheila turned around and gave her youngest son a proud smile. "Yes, Ike. Face." She sat down at the head of the table, picking up her fork. "So, Kyle, you didn't answer my question – why so glum?"

"It's nothing, mom," Kyle started to say, but was interrupted when Ike once again reached out and grabbed on to his nose. "Nose."

"Ike!" Kyle pulled away again. "Mom, tell him to stop."

"Ike, have you finished your coloring?" Sheila prodded gently. Ike proudly waved his piece of paper for her to see.

"Very good, Ike!" Sheila clapped her hands together in joy. "That's going straight on the refrigerator."

But Ike gripped tightly on to the edge when she tried to take it from him. "Not finished yet," he informed. Sheila loosened her grip.

"Okay, sweetie, you just tell me when you are. Bubelah – you'd better eat up," she warned Kyle. "Otherwise you'll miss the bus."

"It's okay, I'm not hungry," Kyle pushed his seat back, hoisting his backpack over his shoulder. "I'll just go now."

"Oh, bubbe, you're not going to be able to concentrate in school!" Sheila protested. "You know what happens when your blood sugar gets too low."

"Mom—"

"At least have a banana," Sheila got to her feet, dashing over to the counter where they kept an ever-maintained bowl of fruit, picking one and holding it out for her son to take.

"Mom—" Kyle tried again, before heaving a sigh, "fine," he took the fruit, making a show of peeling it and aggressively biting off the tip. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Sheila didn't miss a beat. "Now go on, bubbe. I'll clean up for you."

He waved goodbye in the general direction of his family and slammed the door shut behind him, munching on the banana as he slowly, almost reluctantly, made his way to the bus stop where he knew Stan would be waiting for him bursting at the seams.

He was right – Stan was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands hidden deep within the pockets of his coat. Next to him was the lumbering figure of Eric Cartman, and rounding off the group was the skinny frame of Kenny McCormick.

"Kenny, I've told you a million times to get rid of that coat," Kyle said in exasperation as he got closer to his friends. "You're going to suffocate."

Though its use had been almost completely worn out, Kenny staunchly refused to give up the orange parka he'd worn ever since they were in grade school, claiming that it still served its purpose in keeping him warm even when the rest of them pointed out that it barely covered even a third of his torso. How the blonde boy managed to squeeze himself into the damn thing, Kyle couldn't understand.

"Moff hemmimem man weffa hoo vie hoo whoa foo foe," came the muffled response.

"I know not everyone can afford to buy a new coat – Kenny, I will give you one," Kyle responded. "I've got a million stored in my closet, I've told you before to help yourself to them."

"He's probably afraid of finding your collection of dildos, Kahl," Cartman interjected.

"Hi fol few vie hoohent hake hem hont yeet he hike fum fahehey hase."

"I'm not treating you like some charity case!" Kyle cried. "I'd say the same thing to Stan if he were using the same coat he had before puberty."

Stan, who had clearly been waiting for Kyle to notice him, took this as his cue to steal the conversation. "So Bebe called me yesterday and she's really excited about our date tonight," he rushed out.

"It's nice you two are finally going out on a date, Stan," Cartman said. "Is there a hotline where the rest of us can express our excitement too?"

Stan ignored Cartman, wrapping an arm around Kyle's shoulders. "I'm coming over after school to help you pick out an outfit."

Kyle stared. "Pick out an outfit? What for?"

Stan snorted. "Come on Kyle, you're going on a date, you don't want to look like you don't give a damn, do you?"

"I don't give a damn, Stan," Kyle reminded. "In fact, maybe it would be better if we called the whole thing off. Don't you want to reconcile with Wendy without me and Bebe crowding your style?"

Stan smiled slowly. "Okay then," he said agreeably. "I'll just tell Bebe it's off – and that you two are flying solo."

Kyle's eyes widened. "That's not exactly what I meant—"

"Oh, good," Stan said in a slick voice. "Then I'll come over tonight and get you ready. I was thinking we could go see the new Tim Burton/Johnny Depp movie."

Before Kyle had a chance to reply, the yellow schoolbus pulled up their side, the door sliding open.

"Get in. Sit down. Shut up!"

Stan clapped Kyle on the back before boarding, followed by Kenny. Kyle went next, with Cartman close behind. Kyle took his usual seat next to Stan, and Cartman parked himself in the seat directly behind. As the bus started up again, Stan began to run through all the things he had planned for that night.

"I'll pick up Wendy first so that she can sit up front, and then come back for you – unless Bebe is at her place, which she probably will be, in which case, I'll pick you up last – and you guys can start talking while I drive. Don't worry about awkward silences or anything, Bebe can talk enough for two ... first I was thinking we could hang out at the mall for a bit, just look around and shit before going for the movie – I know Wendy likes to window-shop, and if Bebe is anything like her, it'll be a good way to kill time as well. After the movie, we can go for dinner, there's a new cafe that opened up on the ground floor that's supposed to be really cool—"

"So nice of Stan to organize a night for you guys, wouldn't you say, Kahl?" Cartman slithered over their seat, gazing down at the two boys. Kyle shot him a dark look.

"Really shows the initiative, I think. It's so lucky you have him for a friend, because really, if not for him – why, you'd probably never have the chance to get your rocks off with anyone in your entire life."

"Shut up, Cartman," Stan snapped.

"No, no, I'm seriously, Stan. Think about it. That's the whole reason you asked Bebe, right? It's not as if you were trying to bribe her, was it?"

"I already know how Stan managed to get Wendy to go out with him, Cartman, so whatever it is you're trying to do, save your breath," Kyle said.

Cartman paused, his mouth curled unpleasantly. "Well that's good, Kahl. That's real good. Acceptance is the first step, after all. So you admit that without Stan here, you wouldn't dare approach a girl on your own?"

"Well, I..." Kyle faltered. "Shut the fuck up, fatass! I didn't say that."

Cartman smirked, leaning in closer to the two of them. "Be honest now, Kahl. That's all you got going for you. You know those people you hear about, who people talk to because they're trying to figure out if they're a boy or a girl, but they can't because their voice sounds like it's just as in-between as the rest of them? How do you think they got that way, Kahl?"

"Cartman..." Stan's voice had an edge of warning to it.

"It's because they never went on dates and spent all their time jerking off in their room. Finally their bodies decided if they couldn't get another boy or girl to satisfy their needs, they'd just have to turn into one instead. Sort of like those flowers that have to impregnate themselves because none of the others will do it. Weird how nature balances itself out, eh, Kahl?"

Neither Stan nor Kyle answered, their eyes simmering with anger. Satisfied, Cartman slid back to his own seat, leaving them to stew over his words.

When class let out, Stan and Kyle trudged back to the Broflovski residence, heavy bags weighing them down. Neither said a word to each other; Cartman's words had effectively placed them both in a negative mood the entire day. On the flip side, however, Stan was more determined than ever to make the evening work, and the redhead had heartened considerably to the effort with the prospect of showing Cartman up. So when they raced up to Kyle's room, Kyle graciously allowed his friend to tear through his closet looking for something to wear with minimal complaints about the mess he created in the process.

"Jeez Kyle, I know it's your color and all, but don't you have anything in here that isn't green?" Stan held up another sweater to examine, his face scrunched up in distaste.

Kyle opened his mouth to remind Stan of the sheer amount of blue that decorated his room, but was stopped short when the sweater was sent careening on to his face. Stan pulled out a short-sleeved yellow flannel shirt and made an appreciative sound, turning to face Kyle.

"You can't be serious," the Jewish boy said. "I hate that shirt!"

"It's the best one you have," Stan insisted.

"Stan, I'll freeze. Look at it, it's so thin," Kyle attempted to reason with the raven-haired boy.

"Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the sake of looking good," Stan replied. "Trust me, if I hadn't learned to make such sacrifices, I wouldn't be in the position I am today with Wendy."

"No doubt," Kyle muttered, snatching the shirt from his friend's hands.

"Okay, you go put it on. I'm gonna go home and get ready, and I'll be back with the girls," Stan informed, already heading for the door.

Kyle sighed. The things he did for Stan Marsh.

When Stan returned, he indeed had both Wendy and Bebe in tow. Kyle, freshly showered and smelling of his father's cologne, hopped into the car, and they were off.

"Stan, slow down," Wendy admonished. "The roads are slippery."

"Don't worry baby," Stan grinned. "You're with Stan 'The Man' Marsh. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to that pretty face of yours."

Wendy chose to respond with icy silence, glaring out the window. Kyle turned to whisper a comment to Bebe, but failed to do so when he caught sight of the predatory gleam in her eye. She was grinning up at him, her eyeteeth visible in the relative darkness.

Kyle turned back to stare out the windshield, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

After several minutes, Stan seemed to grow aware that no one was actually talking. Wendy was still obviously mad at him for tricking his way back into dating her, and Bebe seemed content to watch Kyle squirm in utter silence.

"So, Bebe," he started, "how's the cheer squad coming along? Bet they've been working as hard as the boys for next year's games."

Bebe didn't answer, her grin widening as she remained focused on Kyle. Kyle shifted as close to the door as possible. Bebe shifted along with him, still maintaining the same amount of distance between their bodies.

Kyle knew it was destined to go badly, but this was just getting freaky.

"Wendy," he hissed when they finally arrived at car park of the mall. "Tell Bebe to chill the fuck out."

Wendy turned curious eyes on to him. "She felt you up?"

Kyle blinked. "Uh, no."

"Then trust me when I say this, Kyle, she's as chilled out as she's ever going to get." Wendy stalked towards the mall without waiting for Stan to catch up. Bebe sidled up against Kyle, clutching on to him delicate wrist. Kyle shook his hand uselessly, but, just as he expected, it did nothing to shake her off.

Inside, the four teens browsed the video game store, most of the releases Kyle and Stan had seen the previous week before when they came together before acquiescing with the girls request to go into the latest fashion department. They stood near the entrance with their arms folded and stoic expressions on their faces while Wendy and Bebe held cute little outfits up against the other's body, claiming how good she would look in it. Kyle noticed with some apprehension the amount of clothes they began piling upon their arm.

"If they make us carry all of that for them, I am out of here," he warned Stan.

"Oh, come on, Kyle, that's not fair. You knew this would happen the second we stepped inside the store," Stan whispered back. The two girls bounded off towards the dressing rooms and Stan and Kyle reluctantly followed.

All four of them stopped short suddenly.

"Dude," Stan said, a shell-shocked expression on his face, "isn't that J.K. Rowling?"

It was, as far as Kyle could tell, J.K. Rowling.

"What is J.K. Rowling doing in South Park?" Wendy spluttered, several skirts falling away from her grip and crumpling on the floor.

"It looks like she's shopping," Kyle said uncertainly, though this raised far more questions than it answered, in his opinion.

"Let's go say hi," Bebe suggested. Stan, Wendy and Kyle started to protest, but she had already thrown the clothes she had picked out to the floor and rushed up to the billionaire. "Miss Rowling?"

J.K. Rowling turned to find the blonde girl peering inquisitively at her. "Oh, hello there, young Muggle," she greeted.

"Hi!" Bebe chirped. "I'm Bebe Stevens," she held out her hand for Rowling to shake. "Welcome to South Park – what the eff are you doing here?"

"Oh," J.K. chortled, "I just came to browse the new selections. It takes a lot more effort now that Harrods won't let me in anymore."

Wendy raised her eyebrows at this. "South Park is the most fashionable place you could find outside of Harrods?"

"Well, I'm hardly going to shop in London after that kind of mistreatment," the author spat. "Drunk and disorderly conduct indeed!"

The four teens exchanged mystified looks. It was public knowledge the years after her famous franchise ended hadn't been good to the woman. Allegations of substance abuse had reached even the ears of her American fans, and up close, Kyle found her sagging skin and the way she kept rubbing at her reddened nose slightly disturbing.

There was a strange sound Kyle's ears picked up on. It started off tiny, sort of like a fly that wouldn't leave no matter how many times you brushed it off, then gradually grew louder. It sounded like screaming. Not the way crowds of fans who recognized a celebrity in their midst would, but rather more like the screaming of one individual person, one individual male person. It sounded like...

The four of them jumped back as a massive blob clad in red and brown crashed against the billionaire before them, knocking her to her side. "Cartman!" Kyle hollered, "Get off of her. You're crushing J.K. Rowling!"

Instead of abiding by Kyle's words, Cartman began to roll around, fists crashing down on the smaller woman.

"What is he doing?" Wendy gaped. "Is he beating up J.K. Rowling?"

Rowling began to fight back, animalistic grunts escaping her as she bit and scratched at the obese boy above her, the two of them rolling around on the floor of the department store.

"I got a bone to pick with you, bitch," Cartman was saying as he pulled at her hair. "I want my money back!"

"Cartman, stop it!" Kyle shrieked, running forward and attempting to pull the larger boy off the famous author.

"Let go, Jew! I'm doing this for all the people she's stolen from over the years." Cartman's hands wrapped around Rowling's neck and he began to smack her head hard against the tile. "Apologize for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows!"

"Never!" Rowling screeched, bringing up her knee in a fruitless attempt to land it on his crotch.

As Kyle watched Cartman demand a rewrite, he felt someone tug on his arm.

"Come on, dude," Stan said. "We're going to be late for the movie!"

"But we can't just leave them like this!" Kyle gestured to the two figures still fighting on the ground.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Kyle, it's J.K. Rowling. I'm sure she has people to take care of this kind of stuff, okay? Now come on. I already reserved tickets." And with that he guided Kyle out of the department store in the direction of the movie hall.

The crowd for the movie was long, but Stan sauntered confidently up to the counter. "Four tickets for the new Tim Burton movie, please," he said. "Here is my reservation."

The teenage girl entered the reservation code he had written down into the computer. "We already gave your seats away, sir," she said in a dull tone.

"What?" Stan cried out. He checked the watch on his left wrist. "But we're fifteen minutes early!"

The girl simply shrugged. "Oops."

"Well, then can't you give me another four seats?"

"If you wish to purchase tickets for the movie, you'll have to stand in line, sir," she replied in the same dull tone.

Stan leaned forward, bracing his arms on the glazed surface of the counter. "But I woke up and reserved these tickets at six o'clock in the morning," he gritted out.

The girl stared insolently up at him.

Furious, Stan stomped over to the back of the line, resolutely avoiding Wendy's curious eyes. When they finally reached the counter, Stan held back his anger and requested four tickets to the movie.

"The movie commenced five minutes ago and we are unable to supply you with a ticket at this point in time, sir," the girl recited monotonously.

Stan closed his eyes and prayed for strength. "But it's only the previews that are playing right now," he told her.

"Company policy dictates that the box office is not allowed to provide tickets to customers once a movie's screening time has commenced."

"Fine," Stan breathed. "I'll take the next screening then."

"There are no future screenings of this movie scheduled for this date."

"What are you talking about?" Stan burst out. "It's 8:30 PM. How can you not have any future screenings on its opening week?"

"There are no future screenings of this movie scheduled for this date," the girl echoed. "However, there are several tickets to our gold class screening of this film still available for purchase."

"Gold class! That's an extra thirty dollars apiece!"

The girl stared insolently up at him.

Stan sighed, hanging his head down. "Fine," he managed to get out. "Four tickets for your gold class screening of the Tim Burton film – please."

The blonde girl tapped at her keyboard several moments before meeting Stan's eyes again. "That will be one hundred and sixty dollars."

Fuming silently, Stan pulled out his wallet and handed her the credit card his parents gave him for emergency cases. Kyle shook his head at the show of irresponsibility. As though sensing his friend's thoughts, Stan glared.

The girl provided him with the receipt to sign. "Enjoy your movie, sir!" she said in a chipper voice before returning to the dull monotone she had addressed him with all along. "Next."

"You really didn't have to do that, Stan," Wendy said. "We could have all just gone to dinner, and it would have been the same."

"No it wouldn't," Stan replied sourly. "It would have been a hundred and sixty bucks cheaper."

Considering the price of the tickets, Kyle, Wendy and Bebe had offered to go without refreshments throughout the course of the movie, but Stan insisted that since they – he – had already paid for the experience, they might as well take advantage of it in full.

The cinema hall was smaller than the regular one was. There was a separate door that led into the gold class lounge where a bar serving Coke and popcorn along with various other snacks was located amidst a sea of a comfortable couches. Once they had purchased their snacks, they made their way over to the movie room, which, the group found, consisted of a large screen and several—

"Beanbag chairs," Stan muttered. "I paid a hundred and sixty bucks for beanbag chairs."

"You shouldn't have done it if you couldn't justify the purchase," Kyle said shortly.

"That's why I'm only lamenting it to you and not Wendy," Stan responded.

They took their seats, Stan and Kyle next to each other with their respective dates on either side. It appeared they were the only ones who had bothered buying the gold class tickets. Soon after they settled into their seats, the cinema darkened.

Once the ads were over, the movie began to play. It was hard to see much of anything, Kyle thought. Johnny Depp was standing in front of a bed, highlight in green, and he began to pull his shirt off, throwing it off screen, before unbuttoning his pants.

Kyle nudged Stan in the arm. "How much of this movie do you think is going to be filmed in night-vision?"

"It's Tim Burton, man, who knows?" Stan whispered back, eyes focused on the screen.

Johnny Depp was completely naked now and lying expectantly upon the sheets. Wendy's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't think they were allowed to film all of that," she stated.

A girl moved in to the shot then, clad in shorts and a lacy bra. Her back was turned to the screen and all the audience could see was her curly black hair. The two actors began to kiss, Depp's hands sliding from her face, to her neck, and then lower, cupping her breasts through the confines of the bra she wore, reaching back to undo the clasp. He gripped her boobs then and dove into them face-first, blowing a raspberry on them the way someone would on a baby's stomach.

The girl let out a laugh that was halfway a moan as he began caressing and then pinching at her nipples. The Handycam Tim Burton was using shifted so that the angle changed and the face of the woman was revealed. Kyle's jaw dropped.

"Holy shit! Isn't that Helena Bonham Carter?"

The four teens watched in shock as Johnny Depp continued to work on the director's wife for the camera. The camera shifted again as though it had just been placed upon a balancing surface, and then a half-dressed Tim Burton appeared, throwing off his undone shirt and clambering on to the bed.

The four of them watched, their eyes as big as saucers, as Helena Bonham Carter was pushed aside and the two men began to kiss. The buxom brunette let out a moan, fingering herself through her thin shorts as Burton lay Depp down and proceeded to attack his neck, while Depp's fingers scrabbled to undo the director's slacks...

"O-kay, this is getting weird," Stan got to his feet, pulling Wendy up with him. Kyle struggled to escape the beanbag's hold, eventually succeeding in standing up shakily as well. He held his hand out for Bebe, knowing that if he didn't, it would take them even longer to get the fuck away from this movie. She accepted it, and he pulled her up.

"Mmm, you're strong, Kyle," she purred. "And this flick is really giving me some ideas."

Kyle was whisked away by Stan, who clearly wanted out now. As he pushed open the door, he pulled out the four tickets he had kept in his shirt pocket, shaking his head mournfully before hurling them down and stomping on them with his shoe.

"A hundred and sixty bucks for these," he muttered.

Author's Notes: I know Ike Broflovski is supposed to be a genius. My explanation for the way I've portrayed him here is that, sometimes, there's a thin line. I'll expand more on it in the chapters to come, but I didn't want to go down the traditional route with this story, and it's really very possible for prodigy to give way to autism as time goes on. It's heartbreaking, but it does happen.

On the other hand, I hope I've managed to stay true to the humor of the series. I've watched a couple more episodes (I can't seem to find a set timing for them, so I only watch what I can while channel surfing). Please let me know what you think.