Seventeen hours ago I woke up from the floor of my empty room surrounded by cardboard boxes and a backpack, but luckily the floor was carpet. The reason is, my family had finally decided to move away from South Park after sixteen years, and yesterday my dad argued with mom about how every single piece of furniture, clothing, and kitchen wear should be packed up and ready to load on the Penske trucks tomorrow afternoon. This included the mattresses and the blankets. "Craig! Come on, we're going to get McDonalds for breakfast!" My mom called me from downstairs.

"Okay, give me a minute." I called back. I walked across the hall to my bathroom to quickly wash my dry face with water and brush my teeth with my finger and the minimum amount of Crest toothpaste we had left, since dad even packed the full or half empty tubes of toothpaste. I didn't change the night before because I thought it be too much of a hassle to get clothes this morning while everyone was rushing to load the boxes into the truck.

"Craig!" My mom called me once again, this time more irritated.

"I'm coming!" I fixed my bed head for the last few seconds I had, and wjen I ran downstairs, I found my family waiting in the car for me. I climbed in the back seat with my little sister

My dad adjusted his mirror to look at me. "Boy, what the hell took you so long?" Really, he couldn't just turn around and face me

I ran my fingers through my hair irritably. "Dad, I took literally two minutes washing my face and brushing my teeth."

"Why do you need to brush your teeth? The hell, we're going to McDonalds to eat."

"My mom huffed. "For god's sake, just drive! I'm hungry." Dad turned on the ignition and started driving.""Mom, I want hot cakes and sausages, and scrambled eggs, and orange juice, and a muffin." Ruby counted her fingers. "What do you want, Craig?"

I wanted her to shut the fuck up, but instead I told her that I just wanted an egg mcmuffin.

Sixteen hours after eating at McDonalds, we arrived in Chicago.

The house we moved into has three stories. A grayish-bluish house with the most hideous green door I've ever seen. It had half assed carvings designed into it, so If that door was ever vandalized I think I'd be relieved.

I picked the attic as my room. It was small, but bearable. The thing is, there's another platform of the roof outside my window. It's my own 'fancy veranda'. I have a good view of our small yard, and the other neighbors yards, along with their garage roofs.

My Chinese neighbors we're fighting. I could hear them because they're window was open, and whatever they we're cooking smelled amazing. The packet of Malboro cigarettes I had was almost empty. Three days of driving to Chicago with your family doesn't really give any teenager the chance to freely smoke, unless I wanted my dad to beat the shit out of me. My mouth formed an 'O' and I exhaled the bitter-sweet nicotine. The solidarity up here was nice. In the basement, my dad was setting up his bow tie collection that I had yet to understand. Ruby and my mother we're arguing over a room, whether or not to make it Ruby's room or a meditation room. I had no desire to breath in a house pervaded with Indian incents.

Earlier today while bringing in the boxes, my neighbors introduced themselves. The married couple was nice. The wife was quite attractive, not to be creepy. I mean, there wasn't a single gray hair on her short, brown hair. The husband though, greeted me by saying, "I'm sure glad a family moved in. Another child abductor would've really busted my balls." His voice was chillingly calm. They also mentioned they had a son about the same age as me.

I paused smoking for a moment when I heard distant grunting. I got up to search where the sound was coming from.

What the hell?

What was my neighbor doing slicing a samurai sword against a tree? I shifted closer against the edge of the roof to get a better look of him, but crouched down so he wouldn't notice me. This guy was swinging a real samurai sword around, kicking the air, and making karate chops toward nothing.

I'm starting to wonder whether I liked this neighborhood or not. Of course it's more calming than the hell hole of South Park. One day you'll be buying ice cream with your friends, then the next minute a giant, destructive, robotic Barbra Streisand would be singing a duet with Jesus in the form of Neil Diamond. Or a talking towel would be smoking marijuana.

"Craig! Dinner!" My mom called me.

"Shit!" I hissed. "Be right there!" I called back. I threw out the cigarette and climbed back into my room, grabbing a bottle of axe spray from my toiletry box.

Downstairs I saw pizza on the table. "Jeez mom, we stopped at enough fast food restaurants along the road trip, are you trying to get me fat?"

"No honey, I still need to go shopping, this is probably just for today." She sniffed the air, confused. "Are you...wearing cologne?"

I shrugged.

"Damn it son, we get back from a three day trip and you wanna spray yourself with cologne instead of shower?" My dad chewed his pizza.

I grabbed a slice of pizza. "I wanted to save yourselves from fainting of my repulsive stench."

My mom reached into her purse, handing me her card. "Here, when you finish eating go to the grocery store two blocks down and get the usual."

"What is the usual?"

"After all the times you empty the kitchen pantry, you don't know what I usually buy?"

I shrugged.

She sighed. "I'll make a list."

After I ate, I made my way to the grocery store two blocks down. I strolled down the sidewalk, observing the neighborhood. It was pretty small, and it was just outside the actual city with a dim vista of the skyscrapers. I finally reached the convenience store, and a man with a possum shirt who shined the window to the video store next to the store glanced at me. Then said, "Don't think I've ever seen you before."

A bit startled, I asked him. "How would you know?"

He chuckled. "Kids from my school always come this store for chips. It's junk food paradise in there." He continued sprayed the bottle of Windex.

"I just moved in."

He nodded. "Oh hey, you start school tomorrow?"

I shrugged. "Unfortunately. "

"Don't be." He smiled. "My school's really cool, they won't beat the new kid up."

I nodded awkwardly and walked inside the store. I realized I didn't even introduce myself or say goodbye.

Inside the small store, the cashier looked up from his playboy magazine and greeted me. "Sup, dude." He had a beard and a red shirt with a picture of a man that resembled him and the word 'PIZZA' in plain font. I nodded towards him and made my way through several small aisles to find the 'usual'.

After going through every aisle, I set down the groceries that fumbled in my arms.

The cashier closed his magazine. "Dumbass, you would've grabbed a cart."

"Carts are against my religion."

He snorted. "What religion is that?"

"There's this section in fine print in the back of the Bible, it goes like, 'thou shall not carry baskets in grocery stores with bearded dudes', or something."

"Oh yeah I think I know what your talking about." He scanned the bread and milk. "You know it's not everyday a teenager comes in here buying milk, eggs, and other essential goods."

"It's for my mom."

"Well aren't you an angel?"

Just then the store's door flew open. The person who stumbled in the door was panting, as if he ran for his life to get to a grocery store, like he was in dire need of Cocoa Puffs. But I recognized his fucking messy blond hair and enormous flickering eyes.

"Hey Tweek, what's the matter?" The cashier asked.

He would twitch and mutter inhumanly sounds. "I need a first aid man! I'm fucking dying!"

"Woah man, calm down, I don't see any blood on you."

He ran up to him. And that's when I remembered this twitchy human being was my neighbor with the samurai sword. He probably cut himself while fighting his battle to the death with his tree. He held up his outer wrist to the cashier. "Paul, I'm telling you! Look at that slash right there! I'm going to get infected, die, all because you didn't help me!" He screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Paul.

Paul paused for a moment to look at my neighbor, 'Tweek', in the eye. "Look me in the eye and tell me your going to die."

Tweek twitched.

"My dad was in Vietnam. Wanna know what happened to him?"

"You told me before."

"Tell me."

"His nose got shot off."

"That's right. Now if you got the balls to say your going to die for some cat scratch, I'll really give you something to cry about."

Tweek would simultaneously utter undecipherable sounds quietly. "But-"

"But nothing!" Paul reached for the shelf behind him and set down a box of Dora the Explorer band-aids. "Here, you use this to aid that 'wound'. "

Grunting, Tweek took the band-aids. "Fine, but if I don't go to school tomorrow, I'm holding you accountable."