Figure it Out, Please.

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Chapter Two: Believing in the Supply Closet.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park in any way, shape, or form. Matt and Trey do, those ass-hole licker dick farts.

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"Fuck."

Kenny plopped himself down onto the edge of the curb, his fingers gliding about the pavement as he continued to pick up the loose change that he had accidentally dropped from his pocket. He held a cigarette in one hand and continued to pick up the coins in the other. All the while his blond hair was in his face, making him frustrated as his vision became blurred.

"Mother fucker," he cursed to himself, picking up the last of the coins. He was supposed to use that change to get a damn soda from the liquor store, but unfortunately, his stupid ass had to drop them all, thus losing a few nickels and dimes in the process. "Shit."

He stuffed the remaining coins inside the front pocket of his parka, his fingers remaining in the warm confines of his jacket. He brought his cigarette back to his mouth, taking a long drag from it, and released the swarm of swirling smoke from his parted lips. A good smoke did wonders for him.

"Oh, fiddle-sticks."

Kenny tweaked his head, peering around his shoulder indifferently as he spotted Butters walking behind him, passing by a multitude of tiny shops littering the streets. His head was down and his hands were bunched up in his pale yellow hair, his fingers digging into the scalp. His expression looked troubled and his brow was set in deep concentration; Kenny had no idea what was bugging the poor guy, and he really didn't care for that matter.

"Why would they even want to do that in public!" Kenny heard Butters mutter to himself, shaking his head in disagreement. "Why? W-wouldn't they get in trouble? Oh, hey Kenny."

Kenny perked up at the mention of his name, for he had turned his attention away from Butters and onto the curvaceous form of Bebe Stevens. He licked his lips in aroused hunger, taking another drag from his cigarette to calm himself.

"Kenny, can I ask you something?"

Kenny nearly jumped a mile. He turned his head to the side and found Butters seated next to him on the curb, biting his lip and quivering his eyes. Kenny didn't really know what to say to him, other than "fuck off", but he didn't have the heart to say it, because really, Butters looked like a real mess.

"Make it quick," Kenny shot out, turning his head away in disdain. He really didn't want to be seen talking to Butters-- to do so would ruin his reputation. He couldn't be seen hanging around with sissy little pussies like Butters Stotch. Kenny was known by all of South Park's citizens that he only went for the intractable and developed type when it came to picking out costumers, otherwise known as: experienced people. Seeing Butters beside him would surely lower his stats. He frankly didn't care for the boy that much either; they were never really friends to begin with.

"I'm not going to say names, but, gosh, I'm really confused right now," Butters started, fiddling his fingers in his lap. "I saw two guys holding hands today! I-I...I know these people too! I couldn't believe it."

Butters picked his head up from his prior dejected position, waiting for Kenny to respond or perhaps even give him some advice, but Butters found that his chances were low. Kenny was too busy staring ahead at something, licking his lips in impatience.

"Kenny, d-did you hear me?" Butters questioned. Kenny suddenly snapped his head towards Butters, his eyes set in an unexpected feral glare.

"So what if they were holding hands," he hissed softly, throwing his cigarette to the ground. "Just because you're innocent, doesn't mean that everyone else is. Fuck off dude." With that, Kenny got up from the ground and stormed off, drawing his hoody over his head. Butters simply stared after him, wondering what he did wrong. He was hoping to get some few settling answers from Kenny, but that idea just blew up in his face. Was anything going to make sense to him anymore?

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Kenny didn't need to deal with ignorant people like Butters. He didn't need to explain anything to him or give him any advice for that matter-- he was a slut, not a therapist.

"Fucking Butters," Kenny cursed under his breath, kicking a lone pebble on the ground. The pebbled skidded across the pavement and crash landed into a nearby pile of grass clippings. It was his Saturday, he didn't need to be feeling frustrated. The only reason he was feeling fidgety was because right after he had left that brunette girl to make it to his next appointment (some skimpy blond that lived on the nicer side of South Park), she had canceled on him, and get this, he was already at her front door when she told him the bad news. The least she could have done was call him ahead of time so that he didn't have to go around wasting his fucking time losing his change, sitting on cracked curbs, and listening to Butters confused mutterings on gay people.

"Hey Kenny."

Kenny immediately perked up at the sound of his name, because not only was it in fact his name, but the way it was said...

"Busy right now?" Bebe asked slowly, walking towards him with a horde of shoe bags hanging from both her elbows. "I'm really tired and I could use a little bit of, well, you know. Get my drift? I have the cash here and now to make things easier." She smiled seductively at him, licking her soft pink lips that were coated with tons upon tons of lip gloss. This only sent lusty sensations straight to Kenny's dick and he couldn't wait to say yes. Hell, he loved it when he collected money on the weekends. Of course, being the professional businessman that he was, he didn't let any of those erotic emotions show on his face, and he finally answered her with a cool and sultry, "Anytime, anywhere babe."

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Mondays were always enjoyable for innocent little Butters. To him, it was a start of a new day, the start of a new week, the start of new smiles and cheerful attitudes.

"Heya Clyde!" Butters chirped brightly.

"Fuck off Butters," Clyde shot back, walking away stiffly with Token Black trailing behind him. Butters nearly ran into the lockers beside him, but nonetheless continued his leisurely walk before school hours. He always liked to do this on Mondays: he would get up extra early, eat a quick breakfast, and go to school thirty minutes before the bell rang just so that he could take the time to walk around and admire the crisp morning atmosphere. Today wasn't any different; he didn't know why people always seemed to "fuck him off", but Butters was a happy person and he took it as a sign of their paying attention to him, however that worked out.

Just as he was about to enjoy the morning mountain air, his happy thoughts crumbled into a grainy heap of left over ashes. Ahead of him were the two people that plagued his thoughts like the Black Death all weekend long without so much as an ounce of private time to himself: Craig and Tweek.

"Hey, f-fellas," Butters greeted them, trying his best to sound cheerful and to not sound like a demented loser who couldn't get his words out straight. Unfortunately, Butters had already been labeled that. To his gratification, they weren't holding hands.

"Hey," Craig replied lamely, ruffling his black hair so that it mussed over his head like a storm cloud.

"Hey Butters. Argh!" Tweek greeted as well, his head smashing into the locker next to him. The loud crash reverberated off the remaining lockers and caused many heads to turn, before they averted their focus back to their own ministrations once they found that Tweek was the one to blame; they were not surprised. Craig turned to the jittering boy and blushed out of embarrassment; he wasn't prepared to handle Tweek's spazzes this early in the morning.

"Um, how was the PDA?" Butters suddenly asked, snapping his eyes away from them. Craig tilted his head and let a wry smirk grace his lips, his eyes shining like cobalt.

"It went well, right Tweeky?" he responded, flipping his head to look at Tweek.

"Gah! No, it was horrible! People kept on staring at us! Argh!" Tweek explained through multiple trembles, his eyes twitching like a grasshopper's legs. "Jesus-- Craig, don't ever make me do that again man! Ngh!"

Butters stared at the two with a critical eye, his nerves still standing on end. He didn't know why the thought of them holding hands bugged him so much, but he wasn't going to ask himself that-- he couldn't. It was best that he just forget the matter entirely and go about his happy life without his thoughts straying to Craig and Tweek and their business together.

"Why aren't you holding hands right now?" Butters asked warily, scratching his chin. Craig turned to Butters, squinting his eyes and letting out a deep sigh, as if hating what he was about to say.

"School's off limits," he explained hurriedly, shifting his weight to the side. "Tweek wouldn't be able to concentrate on his studies if I did that."

Just then, the sound of the bell ripped through the hallways, causing each boy to jump at its loudness. Tweek crashed into the lockers again.

"Geezus dude, you're gonna' fucking kill yourself," Craig reprimanded Tweek, punching his best friend in the shoulder. Butters quickly scurried away from the two, his books in his hands and his book-bag trailing behind him. He didn't understand Craig and Tweek's relationship, but he was starting to form a concept, even though that concept wasn't entirely formed out yet.

"Hamburgers...."

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"Butters, would you be a dear and go take the TV back to the supply closet? Here's the keys," Mrs. Pearum asked politely, walking over towards Butters' desk and plopping the set of keys in front of him. He nodded up at her and collected his things, strapping his book-bag around his shoulder before he said his final goodbyes to his teacher. She dismissed him with a nod of her head while he went to the front of the room, grabbed hold of the mobile TV cart, and dragged it to the classroom door. Usually, teachers weren't allowed to let students out before the bell rang, but school had ended two hours and thirty minutes ago and he was just here for Driver's ED (the staff didn't care if students in night school were let out early or not).

Humming happily to himself, Butters strolled the cart across the campus, weaving in through narrow hallways and passing by left-over teachers who had yet to go home. Butters never understood why teachers left school so late, wasn't it killer for them?

"Good thing I don't want to be a teacher," he reassured himself, his fingers fiddling with the wires hooked to the back of the TV. "Finally, the 300 building, I made it!" He flipped his cellphone out of his pocket and quickly checked the time. It was still ten minutes until six so he had plenty of time to stash away the TV cart and make it safely out of campus without a staff member telling him to go all the way back to night school.

As he dragged the TV cart down the hallway, the supply closet loomed nearer and nearer, and finally, he was standing right outside of it, keys dangling in his hands and eager to get the darn door open so that he could make a hasty retreat. However, just as he was about to jam the key into the lock, a startling noise coming from inside the closet made him halt in his tracks. The sounds coming from inside were muffled, quick, and rather odd and Butters couldn't help but cock his head to the side and furrow his brow as he tried to place the sounds with visual images. In the end, nothing came to mind, and he decided that ultimately, he needed to put the cart away or else he would get in trouble. He sure hoped there wasn't some rabid beast in there; he hated it when animals just darted out and scared the living crap out of you.

With a shaky breath and trembling hands, Butters very slowly and quietly pushed the key into the lock and turned it in one swift motion. With that, he grabbed hold of the door knob and yanked it open. With a gasp and a yelp, Butters dropped the supply keys, where they clashed to the floor in a metallic clang of sounds.

"Butters, what the fuck are you doing?! Shut the fucking door!"

Butters inched back, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, he couldn't even begin to comprehend it! Was he dreaming, was this all a terrible, terrible dream? Butters shook his head once, then twice, and found that no, he wasn't dreaming at all.

Kenny McCormick was glaring murderous daggers at Butters, his lips twisted up into a feral snarl. His blue eyes shone with such a blinding force that the supply closet practically lit up with light, revealing the two ensnared bodies that were entwined together rather impossibly.

Wendy Testaburger was currently pressed up against the wall, her naked legs spread open while Kenny's body was wedged in between them. Their hair was all mussed and sticking in every direction, too wild and uncontrollable to decipher which belonged to which, despite the blatant color contrasts. Butters couldn't believe it one bit-- Kenny McCormick and Wendy Testaburger were having sex, until Butters decided to rudely intrude in their love making.

"Oh gosh!" Butters exclaimed, pressing his hands to his face. "K-Kenny, I'm so sorry! I didn't know that you guys were in there, honest--!"

"Just you fucking wait!" Kenny spat, removing himself from Wendy's legs and bending down to gather his pants. Butters watched as Kenny began to pull the jeans up his thighs, his fingers fumbling with the zipper as he hurriedly tried to get it up.

And Butters booked it.

TBC...

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-Sesshyfanchick