All is not right in Kenny-ville.

Kenny has a system for waking up. Every morning he stretches his arms out to either side of his bed. This is less for working the sleep stiffness out of his limbs and more for smacking Mole and Bebe in the foreheads. Three people sleeping on a twin sized bed makes it inevitable that someone is going to get squashed in the night, and as Kenny always claims the middle as his own, that someone is always Kenny. Not that Kenny is complaining. He's willing to take a little muscle atrophy in exchange for getting spooned by Bebe's curvaceous legs on one side and Mole's muscular thighs on the other.

No, the purpose of the face-smack is to rouse Bebe and Mole from their slumber in such a way that they get those lethargic/aggravated looks on their faces an gnaw on him like drowsy kittens. Kenny finds it both adorable and hott (yes, with two "t"s, as he is sleeping with two people and likes to brag about it constantly). After a while Mole wakes up enough to go make them breakfast, and Bebe wanders around topless until she can find a shirt to put on, which more often than not is one of Mole's white tank tops.

Kenny considers it the only way to start the day.

So when he stretches out and finds himself alone in bed, Kenny knows something is horribly, horribly wrong. He climbs out of bed and roams the house until he finds Bebe in the kitchen, licking stamps and sticking them to envelopes. Kenny reaches under the hem of his favorite shirt—Nazi Atheist Misanthrope Bisexuals Love Anilingus—and scratches his stomach while "herumphing," which is the noise Kenny makes when he wants to be chewed on by his boyfriend and girlfriend and isn't getting his way. Kenny has a very specific vocabulary, completely devoid of syllables.

"Good morning, Kenny," Bebe says cheerfully. She is fully dressed, which doesn't do anything to lift Kenny's mood—or any part of Kenny.

"What're you doing?"

"Addressing envelopes for Mole's surprise birthday party. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"But you're licking stamps."

"Uh, duh."

"Bebe, the stamps come with adhesive backs."

"So?"

Kenny sits down across from her and props his face up in his hands. "Did you know that every time you lick a stamp you consume half a calorie?"

Bebe gapes at him. "Shut. Up."

"It's true. So you just ate the equivalent of four Oreos."

"Not Double Stuf," Bebe says weakly, placing the back of her hand against she forehead and gazing up at the ceiling fan tragically. "Please, don't tell me Double Stuf."

"I think," Kenny says, taking her other hand and cradling it gently, "it could be the Quadruple Stuf of Wendy/Cartman infamy."

"No!" she wails melodramatically. They both sit there for a while, and then Bebe pouts. "Where is Mole? Our theatrics aren't nearly as much fun when we aren't forcing him to watch them."

"You don't know where he is?" Kenny asks.

"Well, no. He was gone when I woke up. That's why I thought it would be a perfect time to address the birthday invitations."

Kenny and Bebe have been plotting Mole's surprise birthday party for two weeks now. It is going to be especially surprising because Mole's birthday isn't for another seven months. Bebe and Kenny have planned on kidnapping Mole, blindfolding him, and then shoving him into the girls' restroom at the local sandwich shop. Then they will unveil the cake—which will say "Happy 87th Birthday, Glynis," naturally—and smash great quantities of it into Mole's hair, then round off the party by stuffing as much glittery palm tree-shaped confetti down his pants as they can.

It will truly be the only way to celebrate a birthday.

"Mole is missing?" Kenny shoots up in his chair. "What if he got out!? Did you remember to lock the gate?"

"Don't you try and blame this on me!" Bebe shouts, jumping up as well.

"Okay, okay, let's just search the house. He could be up in the attic."

"Or down in the basement."

"Right! Both classic places for Quasimodo-esque humans to lurk."

"Not that Mole is Quasimodo-esque," Bebe protests

"He shies away from humanity."

"But if he were ever in the bell tower of a cathedral it would be to write blasphemous graffiti on the walls, not ring the bells. Also, he has the notable lack of a hump."

"Thanks a lot, now I've got "My Humps" stuck in my head," Kenny whines.

"Okay, you start searching downstairs and I'll start upstairs, and we'll shout when we see him."

Bebe has scarcely begun to climb the stairs when he hears Kenny shriek; she runs back to find him sprawled on his ass in front of a closet, partially buried under a cascade of plaster garden gnomes.

"Why do you have a closet full of gnomes?" he asks, gaping at her.

"Well people started giving them to me as, you know, gag gifts... after a while I had a collection of them."

"So what're you going to do with a closet full of them?"

Bebe shrugs. "Lock Tweek in there if he tries to cheat me at blackjack again?"

"Hey, c'mon, that's not fair. You know Token put him up to it, and Mole hustled your watch back, didn't he?"

The rest of the search of the house went quickly. Finding no Mole, even after searching the cupboard above the refrigerator and the washing machine, Bebe and Kenny curled up together on the living room couch and held each other while they mourned.

"He's out there somewhere, right now, cold, lonely... not being molested..." Kenny said with an overly dramatic sob.

"Who's going to cook? To clean? Who are we going to buy a french maid outfit for every gift-giving holiday?! It's not nearly as funny if the person who gets it isn't French and doesn't curse at us and throw it at your head after they open the present!"

"We should have made him wear dog tags."

"He does wear dog tags!"

"Well we should have gotten him a leash!"

"I've got it!" Bebe says, sitting up. "We'll make lost flyers!"

They then proceed to create a template:

MISSING: CHRISTOPHE

Also answers to: Mole, Chris, Chrissy, Guacamole, French Chrissing, Holy Moley, Rolie Polie Molie, Topher, Cockwhore

Below which Kenny employs his great artistic skills to draw a sketch of what is either Mole, Mole's shovel, or Patrick Swayze.

Bebe and Kenny are just about to run over to the town photo copier when the front door opens and, lo and behold, Mole walks in. He is promptly tackled by Bebe and Kenny both.

"MOLE! We were so worried! And the dishes were piling up!" Bebe cries, nuzzling his back. Kenny wraps his arms around Mole's head proceeds to rub his chin in his hairline affectionately.

"How long has it been? Days? Months?"

"You freaks," Mole grumbles, trying to shake them off and failing spectacularly. "I left for twenty minutes to go buy milk."