Disclaimer: All places and characters referenced to the television show South Park are the property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

"B-but why do I have to play at the park all day, dad?"

"Because, son, your mom and I need some alone time today."

"I could just play in our yard or in my room. I promise I won't be too loud or b-bother you guys at all!" Butters beseeched him to reconsider.

"You are going to play in this park until seven o'clock tonight, Butters!" Stephen dictated firmly, reaching across Butters to open his car door. "And if you are a minute late or a minute early, you're grounded mister! Understand?!"

"Y-yes sir," Butters hung his head in submission as he stepped out of the car.

With that Stephen shut the car door and took off in the direction of the Stotch residence.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon. The sky was clear and filled with rays from the late summer sun. The park was surprisingly busy that afternoon, as busy as one would expect a small town park to be, that is.

Butters eyed the park goers in hopes of seeing someone he knew, but no such luck.

Dang! I don't know anyone here. What the heck am I going to do until seven?! He asked himself, surveying the area for points of interest.

Field. Some benches. Public restrooms. Payphone.

The last thing to catch his eye was the small lamppost-like clock in the center of the park walkway.

The hands read 1:15.

1:15? I have to stay here for 6 more hours?!

At a loss for anything to do or anyone to do anything with, he made his way to one of the park benches and took a seat.

As people came and went he kept hoping someone he knew would show up to keep him company or maybe even play a game; but as the afternoon agonizingly drug on and the sun began to set, his hopes faded with the daylight.

Anxiously tracking time, he looked up at the clock.

6:45… I better get heading home! If I don't make it there by 7 dad's gonna be awful sore…

He bolted up from the bench and jogged off toward his house.

'…or a minute early, you're grounded mister!' He remembered.

But not too fast… He slowed down to a speed walk.

After the nearly three kilometer walk, Butters neared his house. The time was unbeknownst to him.

Oh boy… I don't know what time it is… He thought, approaching the door.

I guess I'm just going to have to take my chances that it's exactly 7 o'clock.

Apprehensively, he reached for the doorknob expecting nothing less than an immediate scorning by his father for being a minute early or a minute late or, god forbid, any earlier or later than a minute.

The doorknob clicked and refused to turn any further.

"What the…?" He said aloud trying it again.

Locked

"Oh, geez. I am in so much trouble…," he mused, planning his next move.

He decided his only course of action was to knock on the door and let his parents know he was back. The longer he waited the more trouble he would probably be in.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

…

He knocked a little louder, but there was still no response.

They're probably punishing me by not letting me in or something. He decided, sadly taking a seat on the doorstep.

As another few hours passed Butters could feel himself getting tired. He knew it had to be getting late.

He knocked on the door again and there was still no response.

Maybe I could try a window?

He walked around the house scanning windows in hopes of finding a way to get his parents' attention.

After circling the property he could see there were many lights on.

They had to be home.

Dad will probably yell at me if I pound on a window but gosh darn it; I don't know what else to do.

Butters nervously stepped up to the only window on the house he could reach – the living room window – and started to tap on the glass.

"Mom? Dad? Is anyone is anyone home?"

He stopped tapping and waited.

Minutes passed yet again with no response.

Defeated, he trudged back to the front doorstep of the house.

"Mom, dad, I'm sorry I didn't come back from the park at the right time… Please don't make me sleep outside tonight…," He said aloud to the door, voice filled with despair.

What's the use?

He slumped onto the step and buried his face in his hands.

After brooding for a few minutes Butters devised one last ditch effort plan.

Maybe if I call them and beg they'll let me in…?

He started thinking about where he was going to find a phone to call his house and hopefully convince his parents to forgive him.

I could ask the neighbors…

This approach was quickly discarded.

…But it's pretty late and I'm already in so much trouble; if I wake up the neighbors to use their phone, I'll never be let back into the house.

He was about ready to give up when he remembered: Payphone!

There's a payphone down at the park! I could use that!

This revelation sparked a glimmer of hope for him as he made haste toward the park.

The town was quiet and the streets were empty by the time the park was in sight.

Butters walked up to the payphone ready to dial his house.

He unhooked the black phone and suddenly realized: I need money to use a payphone…

Crushed, he replaced the phone and hung his head low as he slowly walked toward and took a seat on a nearby park bench.

"Gosh, Butters… First you come home late and then you walk across town to use a payphone that you don't have money for… I guess I can't do anything right…," he said to himself aloud, tears welling in his eyes.

"Yeah! Over there!" A voice broke the silence of the night.

Butters quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and looked up to see a group of multiple mean-looking kids approaching him.

6th Graders?! Oh hamburgers!