Chapter Index

1. Prologue: A Night in the Slammer 2. Vivisection Now! — The Race to First Base 3. Vivsection Now! — Jersey Rising 4. Summer Awakening — A Rush of Blood to the Little Head 5. Summer Awakening — Girls, Girls, Girls 6. Summer Awakening — Summer Nights 7. Summer Awakening — Bringing on the Heartbreak 8. The Broflovski Effect — The Slow-Emerging Buttefly 9. The Broflovski Effect — How to Have A Successful Not-Date 10. The Broflovski Effect – The Epussany 11. The Broflovski Effect – The Church of Ladies' Intimate Teachings 12. The Broflovski Effect – The War Between CLIT and COCK 13. The Play's The Thing – An Unholy Alliance 14. The Play's The Thing – The Immaculate Conception 15. The Play's the Thing – The Three and Three-Quarter Year Itch 16. The Play's the Thing – Dangerous Liaisons 17. The Play's the Thing – Reclaiming the Art of Keeping a Secret 18. The Play's the Thing – Climax and Resolution 19. Epilogue: Intervention

The door to the town jail scraped open against the concrete as Stan found himself unceremoniously shoved into a cell, followed by Kyle and Cartman.

"Wait, you can't do this!" Stan protested. "We haven't done anything wrong!"

"You were fighting. I think you'll find that falls under aggravated assault and actual bodily harm," Sergeant Yates announced gruffly. "Besides, I owe a friend of yours a favour."

Cartman clenched his fists. His chins quivered like jelly as he shook with rage, making the developing bruise on his jaw look like a Magic Eye poster. "What! Which black asshole screwed us over? I'll have their nuts on a goddamn platter!" He started to take off his dinner jacket, as though to prove he meant business.

Sergeant Yates grinned cruelly. "Take a guess," he said, casually tossing Stan an unopened crumpled envelope.

"See you in the morning, boys," he said with a smirk, before locking the door to their cell and walking away.

"Damn it!" Stan hissed, sinking down onto the lower bunk bed. Kyle paced across the room, wide-eyed with panic.

"I'm screwed; I'm screwed; I'm screwed," he chanted, his voice nasally from the blood-stained bandage wrapped around his nose.

"It's just one night," Stan snapped, unfastening his cummerbund. "God, quit whining!" He pulled the letter out of the envelope and struggled to focus on the scraggly writing; he could only fully open one eye.

"You're one to talk," Kyle spat back as he continued to pace maniacally, the blood on his dress shirt drying to brown. The vomit, however, stank as strongly as ever.

"I have every reason, you bastard!" Stan shouted.

"You leave him alone, butthole," Cartman snapped. Both Kyle and Stan stared at him in shock.

"What the..." Stan glanced from Cartman to Kyle and back again. Kyle and Cartman exchanged a curious glance before Kyle trained his attention to Stan.

"Just read it out loud," he said, rubbing his bruised neck. Not in the mood to make things any sourer, Stan obeyed. He lay back to hold the letter closer to his good eye and winced as his bruised back made contact with the mattress.

"It says, 'Dear guys. Sorry to do this to you, but I promise, one day you will thank me. Someone needed to lock you in a room together to sort things out without beating the living shit out of each other. Only wish I could be there to see it. Have fun! Kenny.' Oh, and there's three kisses," Stan finished. He folded the letter into a paper airplane.

-Friggingodess-

"Goddamn it, Kenny, you poor piece of crap!" Cartman yelled at the bars of their only window.

"Don't speak ill of the dead, fatass," Kyle yelled back. They all fell silent at this cold reminder. Stan aimed the paper airplane at Cartman.

"Yeah, real mature, Stan," he drawled as the airplane hit him in the ear.

Stan felt the weight of the mattress shift, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Kyle at the foot of the bed. His shoulders were hunched dramatically as he tried to fit his head under the bunk, then gave up and rested his head in his hands.

"Dude," he said softly. "I'm—"

"Don't." Stan cut him off almost immediately, feeling hot tears build behind his eyes.

"What the fuck happened; he cheat on you?" Cartman queried suddenly, his eyes narrowed like slits. Stan felt his stomach knot up in rage.

"No." Kyle answered in an irony-free way that surprised Stan. He let out a long sigh. "I can't believe this; we're completely fucked! We're going to get a criminal record and..."

"Kyle, relax," Cartman said. "We're not getting a criminal record. There's been no paperwork. We haven't actually been arrested; Kenny's just being a dick from beyond the grave."

Stan propped himself up on his elbows and eyed Cartman warily. "What's going on? Since when have you said even a single sentence to Kyle that hasn't included the words 'stupid' and 'Jew'?"

"Since when have you tried to break his nose?" Cartman retorted smoothly.

"Oh, he didn't just try; he succeeded," Kyle announced dryly. "And we could still get a caution."

"Since when do you care about stupid cautions?" Stan shot back.

"Since... It doesn't matter."

"Anyway, he totally deserved it, Cartman."

Cartman laughed at this. "Oh really? What, did he refuse to pound your tender little ass? Or wouldn't cuddle you afterwards?"

"Shut up, Cartman," Kyle said wearily.

"Yeah, why are you so obsessed with the idea of us two fucking? We're both straight," Stan said, glaring at Kyle. "Totally fucking hetero, right?"

Kyle began to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. "If you're going to do this all night, Stanley, I swear to Abraham I'm going to knock you out."

"Oh, what are you going to do, throw your AP calculus textbook at me?" Stan immediately felt his stomach know up in pain once more. She takes AP calculus, too.

"Shut up you pair of fags." The phrase fell from Cartman's lips so quickly that it sounded like a single word.

"Cartman!" Kyle stared at him, uncomprehending. Stan stared at them both, increasingly aware he was missing a crucial piece of this particular jigsaw puzzle.

 

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