Holy shit, I updated a long since dead fic. It's a miracle! Or, actually, I recently played South Park Stick of Truth and got a little nostalgic. I'm not the same writer I used to be four years ago, but I tried my best to capture the same spirit I wrote with back in the day. I miss all the friends I made while in this fandom, and I may not hear much from them anymore, but I'll always care about them. Love them all in a way I can't really describe. And maybe I'll complete this fic yet. Who knows. But it felt good to touch these characters again after so long.

Chapter 10: The Amateur Bologna Pony Show

Kyle was there before the pizza, which really threw off how this interaction was supposed to go. It was supposed to be something like he walks in ready for 'the talk' and I'll just be leaning casually over a big slice of 'za and kind of shrug and hold it out to him. He'd take it after a little hesitation, and we'd both have time to calm our nerves and feed our bellies before confronting The Situation™. He would be weepy and I'd be the stern yet calming presence (the Mr. Rogers type of character) and I would guide him sagely through these confusing times and changes. It played out really well with testing audiences—everyone was crying by the end, screaming encore and whatnot. But Kyle had to go and show up early...I don't know how to work with these people.

So, in an alternative sequence of events, the front door chimed, and as I eagerly jumped out to greet my pizza maker, I was instead face to face with the graven expression of Kyle Broflovski. He didn't look like shit or anything, but he wasn't good neither. Distant. Literally. I stood there holding the door open, ass long since frozen off, and he continued to wait a few feet away until I deliberately waved him inside.

Once inside, I caught Kyle's eyes surveying the immediate.

"I swear on my dead body, I wasn't lying about the pizza," I explained before he could be a grouch about it. "It's just not here yet."

Whether or not he believed me remained a mystery because there was no response. Instead, Kyle shuffled over to the counter and silently leaned over on his elbows to stare down at an ad promoting dollar movie rentals.

I was being ignored? Circling around the counter to see his face clearly, he didn't even grant his marvelous friend the skimpiest of glances. And up close, his nose looked...not the greatest. It was mottled with purple and yellow bruising, slightly swollen, but otherwise not broken.

"Sorry about your face."

"Yeah, I know." He was surprisingly casual in his response, eyes floating up to look at me as he spoke for the first time since he'd arrived.

How broken is this young man before me? Calling him over for pizza, I half expected that he would ignore my request entirely. Obviously, that wasn't the case, but I at least expected some...emotionally charged words. Nothing though? For the first time, Kyle and I were going to have a leisurely conversation? Fuck that.

"So…" No use beating around the bush. Time to jump out of the fire and into the pan as they say. "You okay?"

Kyle's expression fell to the countertop again as he airily replied, "Don't I look okay?"

I laid my head on the same countertop so he was forced to look at me. "That's gotta be a trick question with a nose like that."

Kyle scowled in his first show of genuine emotion. "You know what I fucking meant, Kenny."

I tried my best not to laugh at how easy it was to crack his facade, settling on just smiling at the fact that he was acting more like his usual self. I straightened back up, pleased to see Kyle pick his head up rather than continue to ignore me.

"You want the honest answer?" He didn't respond, but I gave it to him anyway. "You've been acting like you're fine, and it's creeping me the fuck out."

Kyle took a deep breath and nodded, pulling his hat down in front of his eyes.

Instinctively, like I was faced with a sad dog, I pressed my hand to his head, stroking a thumb through his curls.

Kyle began to slump down until his head rested face-down on the counter. He wasn't crying. But he wasn't not crying.

"You already know what happened." His miserable statement was muffled by his hat.

"Yeah."

"It was just like you said, wasn't it?"

"...yeah."

Kyle didn't speak for a while, taking a few more deep breaths.

"Sorry."

The apology sent my guts sinking to the pits of hell. I didn't deserve an apology, did I?

I dropped my hand away as Kyle picked his head up. His eyes were bloodshot but there were no tears. He looked tired. I don't blame him. It was probably a long couple days.

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my pants. You know, I was kinda hoping I would be wrong. A lot of good could come from my best friends getting together. Even if they weren't into threesomes, maybe they'd let me watch. It'd be quite the spectacle if nothing else. I don't think either of them would know what they were doing for the first few tries. It'd be like one long porn blooper featuring two assholes I really care about. Now I don't even know if they'll be willing to talk to each other anymore.

Ah, I just made myself sad I think?

"What are you gonna do?"

"I don't know. I haven't really been thinking about the future too much. I've been...you know..." Kyle waved his hand around loosely, his voice with an edge of bitterness to it. "I'm just glad to get out of the house. It's too noisy."

"Well, you've come to the right place if you're looking for quiet. Don't think this place has had a proper business dealing since even before Blockbuster died out. Actually, have I ever told you my theory that this place is actually a front for dealing out to the local meth-heads?"

"Everybody thinks that Kenny, it's just no one wants to fuck with the meth-heads so they leave it be." Kyle pushed himself upright, pulling his hat back on. "I'm sick of standing around."

"Need a chair?"

"I need answers." Kyle looked at me, eyes darting between mine. "What am I supposed to do, Kenny? What the fuck am I supposed to do right now? What the fuck do I do?"

He stopped there, but I imagined the question still echoed through his mind. And man oh man, I really don't have the answers.

To my relief, at that moment came the perfectly timed interruption as a pizza-face pizza-boy let himself in.

"Pizza for Mr. Scotchdale."

"That's me!" I hoisted myself over the counter, holding my hands out like a father eager to get his hands on his newborn baby boy fresh out of the oven.

Feeling the warmth radiating off the soggy box cradled in my arms, I think I finally understood what it felt like to be a father. To think such a small thing could bring a man so much joy and purpose. I was the luckiest man on earth.

I quickly signed away some of Scotchdale's money, turning to Kyle who clearly hadn't taken the same emotional journey I had.

"Want the first slice?" I slid alongside Kyle and set the box down, flipping it open to release the potent aroma of mostly grease. The way its juices glistened under the fluorescent lights was exactly the kind of lewd sight I was always horny for.

It took the use both hands for Kyle to pick up a slice and balance its several weighty toppings without dropping anything. I balanced a slice of my own, watching Kyle tilt his head back to lower the sloppy slice into his mouth from above. The structure of Mami pizza was the exact middle between solid and liquid, and it only took a few chews before he swallowed the thick mix of meat, vegetables, and cheese.

It was really the only way to eat Mami pizza, and I followed suit, taking deep gulps of the only pizza that would deliver to such a shady establishment.

It wasn't too long until we'd both finished, standing side-by-side, licking away the orange grease stains on our fingers as we were faced with filling the silence again.

See, if we'd eaten the pizza first we wouldn't have to figure out how to ease our way back into the conversation. I couldn't trust Kyle to do it, so I said the first thing on my mind. "I was on your side you know."

Kyle took the tip of his finger out of his mouth, wiping both his hands on his pants instead. "That doesn't make me feel better."

"I didn't think it would." Finding something to do with my hands, I began shredding the pizza box so it might fit in the tiny garbage we kept behind the counter. "Have you figured out what you're gonna do?"

Kyle shook his head.

"What happened?"

"He told me how he felt. He cried so much it felt like I was the one rejecting him. He actually got so worked up he made himself puke right there on my bedroom floor."

"Gross, man."

"I fucking know it." Kyle stared into nothing for a while before he continued. "I'm not sure if I regret telling him or not."

I swept the bits of cardboard I'd created into a tiny pile and brushed my hands off. "Well, if it's an option, I'd say forget about being regretful. Regret is a bitch nobody needs. Just move on. Improve yourself if you have to, but always move on." Perfectly perfect advice.

"That's easy for you to say, Kenny. You don't really care about anything anyway…"

Like receiving a kick in the nuts, my mood went into the negatives. You know, there once was a time when it actually didn't bother me that I wasn't taken seriously. I even kind of reveled in secretly knowing how wrong everyone was. Nowadays though, it's just...annoying? Like, can we not act like I'm here strictly for entertainment purposes? Haven't I taken their problems seriously? Even most recently, haven't I tried my best for Kyle? And he has the nerve to say I don't care?

"It takes work to not be negative all the goddamn time, Kyle 'I never learned to cope with not getting my way' Broflovski. Like...real work. It's not easy, but I act carefree by choice." Man, this was awful. I am not the speech guy of the group for a reason. It's too much pressure to make yourself vulnerable and try to make a 'this is what I've learned' moment, but goddammit if I gave up whenever I felt too much pressure I wouldn't bother getting out of bed in the morning.

Kyle looked on with a degree of uncertainty. It was almost insulting to watch him come to the realization that I'm a dynamic character with a number of dimensions perhaps not visible upon first glance. Almost. If anything, it would be bad timing to act bitter right after I said I try to act carefree.

"And here's the trick." I moved around to reach under the counter and pulled out a shoddily marked video cassette. "This is a sex tape."

Kyle reeled away with vigor equal to a man confronted with the suggestion of season finale spoilers for his favorite show.

Waving a hand at his dramatic reaction, I continued, "It doesn't matter who it's showing-"

"Yes, it does?"

"-What matters is what you do with it. First, I could choose not to mention it and allow this serious discussion go on uninterrupted." That would be the miserable option.

"Second, I could do what I do best and offer a special viewing of-" I squinted to read the jotty handwriting on the side. "-Hardy's Roundup."

I laid the tape down. "Third, is what I'm doing now I guess?"
Kyle looked at me incredulously. "What are you doing right now?"

"Well, I'm still offering a special viewing of this sex tape, so that part isn't much different from the second option. The difference is-"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"Not finished, Kyle."

Kyle crossed his arms but seemed ready to respect my request.

"Anyways," I twirled the tape around the counter absently. "The difference is...we're actually going to do it."

There was a beat of silence before Kyle asked, "Do what?"

It's like he wasn't even listening to me. "We're actually gonna watch it. It isn't going to be just a throwaway line that is used to ease the tension—we're gonna watch this porn and live in the moment. That's the trick."

"You know, it's shit like this that makes it seem like you don't care. How is watching a porn supposed to help me?"

"It's not about whether or not it's a porn, it's about making yourself to say yes to something other than being upset."

"Well, what if I don't want to watch a porn because it's gross? Isn't there another option?"

"We already finished the pizza."

"You have other movies. We're in a rental place."

"Are you being contrary because you're uninterested in pornographic cinematography in general? Or is me that's making you tentative?"

"Duh, it's because you'll be there!"

"You don't trust me to be there?"

"It's weird."

"Uncomfortable about maybe having a boner in front of your friend? Because if it's that, then there's nothing to be embarrassed about—they're a perfectly natural thing. And it's not like it hasn't happened before. We all went through middle school together, didn't we? Our bodies were going through so many changes, our dicks would come to attention regardless of the company we kept. We just ignored it and lived our lives. What happened to those days, huh? Why can't we have a little chub together anymore, huh? No harm in it, really."

Kyle was already beginning to calm down. He looked more energized, a little less morose, and generally better. Good. At least he wasn't focused on the negative anymore.

Closing his eyes, he actually asked, "What happens after it's over?"

"Uh…" I didn't think it'd go this far. I know I sound like I know what I'm doing, but I don't plan this shit. Not really. "I guess that's up to you."

Kyle opened his eyes, still red around the edges yet determined. "Okay. We're gonna watch it."

"Oh my god."

Kyle glowered and I know I shouldn't have said that out loud, but I didn't think he'd agree.

"Oh my god." I said it again, picking up the videotape and staring at Kyle with hope probably glistening in my eyes like an anime character. This was gonna be a treat.

Kyle's scowl was unmoving, but he didn't take it back. The opposite in fact. "Hurry up already," he said, moving around the counter to enter the little office.

"Oh my god." I catapulted over the counter for the second time today and spoke to god for the third time as I switched the sign to closed and hurried back to the room where Kyle was taking up the only chair available. He still looked a little resentful.

"It won't work if you're a grump about it!" My fingers jittered as I popped in the tape and played with the TV and VCR power buttons.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna sit too?"

"Yeah, give me a quick second. Could you be any more impatient?" I scampered out of the office again, grabbing the trashcan and flipping it over as a makeshift seat.

I shut the door behind me as I entered the office one final time. Kyle stared at the screen, not really acknowledging the situation anymore. Pressing play at last, the little TV was immediately filled with a close-up of 'The Bone Ranger' (an old man dick, if I need to be crass about it).

"Aw, come on…" Kyle groaned, shaking his head.

I leaned to flip off the lights, moving my trash-throne to sit right next to Kyle. I'd already watched the film on another lazy day of work, so I wasn't too surprised by its sudden start. I mean, it was amateur. No setup, no plot to follow, just the basic dick and ass.

The camera was static as the owner backed away to show more of his torso and what looked like a motel room. He has a bit of a belly on him and a lot of dark gray hair over his legs and chest. Cute how he's wearing a little cowboy vest and boots though—hence the title Hardy's Roundup I guess. The audio was crappy, more static than anything. The main lead made a few strokes toward the camera before turning around. This is the first time you'd notice there's been a woman there the entire time, but you can't see anything except her legs as Mr. Scotchdale (is it really a surprise that it's him?) starts thrusting—no prep or anything. In all honesty, it's the least attractive porn I could have shown, but sometimes it's about the journey, not the destination.

Once the initial shock wore off, Kyle threw his face into his hands and shook his head. "Gross, dude. And I don't even know why I didn't expect this. Come on...didn't you want me to take you more seriously?"

I couldn't help but crack a smile. "Kyle, you can't be too critical of someone's first try or you'll discourage them. Mr. Scotchdale has directed several more films, and I can vouch for their overall improvement in visual quality along with his development using more complex themes."

Kyle looked back up at the screen with an exaggerated wince. "Ugh. I feel bad for her."

"Oh, totally." I patted Kyle on the shoulder before pressing stop on the tape and powering off the TV.

The room fell to darkness with the exception on the sliver of light creeping in through the edges of the door. We sat the silence for a little bit, reflecting on what we'd just witnessed. I think it went well.

"Kenny?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if I feel better. I'm a little angry at what you've just subjected me to. And I'm still maybe a little mad at you for making me tell Stan. And I'm mad that-" He exhaled deeply. "No. No, I'm not mad. I'm just sad."

I couldn't think of anything to say so, for the first time, I said nothing.

"How do you do it?" He continued with a crack in his voice. "How do you choose to feel better?"

I've never been one for stage fright, but the conversation was steering a little too close to subjects I purposely didn't dwell on. "I-I don't know how to have this conversation, Kyle. That's what the porn was for."

"Kenny, this isn't a fucking joke!" I flinched away from his sudden loud outburst. "I trusted you to at least try and help but all you did was show a stupid ass porno with your boss in it. Do you think this is funny? Or do you hate me? Because I don't get it."

"Dude, chill out. It was just...to distract you. You can't feel sad if you're not thinking about what makes you sad!" I tried to lift the mood with an excessively cheery tone to punctuate my point.

I couldn't see Kyle clearly in the dark, but what little light seeped into the room highlighted a painful expression.

"That's bullshit." His voice dropped down to a murmur.

Bullshit? "Like you have any better fucking ideas, Kyle!" What a fucking joke. "And who the fuck do you think you're talking to? You don't know a goddamn thing about being sad. I'm sad all the goddamn time and you don't see me crying about it. I don't remember the last time I let myself cry. I just...get over it. So, get over it Kyle—Stan doesn't love you!"

Kyle barreled his entire body into mine, sending us heavily into the door.

"Fuck-" I was barely able to gasp before Kyle sent a sledgehammer fist just under my ribs. Again and again and again.

Gritting my teeth, I caught an opening where I could grab one of his arms and push him back. We crashed into the desk as Kyle fought to free himself. I finally released when he bit my arm, but quickly retaliated by kicking hard into his shins. Kyle battered forward once more, digging his nails into my shoulders as he tried to grapple me to the ground. I returned the favor, pulling his hair and twisting downward until I felt his weight shift. One good hit and I was on top of him, my knee pressed to his chest while pinning his hands above his head.

Kyle thrashed around, cussing and roaring about how much I 'fucking sucked.' I hated him. I hated him. I hated him.

I wanted to punch him so bad.

I couldn't punch him though.

I didn't want to punch him.

"Oh jesus, I'm so fucking sorry, Kyle."

I let him go, surprised that he stopped fighting too.

My hands blindly reached to cup his face.

"I'm sorry! I'm such a goddamn mess. I'm a piece of shit. I don't know what that fuck I'm even doing right now. I'm so sorry." I shouldn't have done this. This wasn't me I wanted to be. I love my friends. I just want to be happy with them. I don't want to be sad.

"I don't get it," Kyle said, voice raw after all the yelling. "Why does Stan get to cry? Why does he get to be sad? Wasn't I the one who was hurt? Why do I have to choose to be happy?"

I didn't have the answers. Lying there on the floor in the dark, I couldn't think of one good reason to be happy. My friends didn't love each other, I'd hurt Kyle, my sides hurt from the punches, I had nothing to look forward to, I still had to go home to a shithole at the end of the day… Kyle was right. Why did I have to be happy? Why couldn't I admit how shitty I feel for once?

Still on top of Kyle, I brought my head down to rest against his shoulder. His arms came up to wrap around my head in a tight embrace. I know that I've said I hate being negative, but in a fucked up way...it felt good. It felt really good just to be sad and stay sad.

Kyle and I stayed in that position until all pain experienced was just an ache. I rolled off, sitting with my back against the door while Kyle remained on the floor. I wished I could go to sleep right there, but that wasn't possible. I had to close up shop, or my boss would kick my ass. Then I'd have to go home. Then...who knows. I wish I didn't have to go home.

"When do you finish with work?"

I looked at Kyle, eyes having adjusted to the limited light. He was staring at the ceiling.

"Ten."

"Wanna stay the night at my place?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Several minutes passed.

"Mind if I stick around until then?"

"Go ahead."

"Good."

I have plans to give this a happy ending, but it all came out angsty instead. This feels like the peak of the overall drama though. The boys got their feelings out, and now it's all about the resolution baby.

Review if you'd like. I'll probably send a personal thank you because you're amazing. *mwah*