F*ck You, Kyle!

" Fuck you, Kyle! You are a piece of shit! " Stanley Marsh did not hesitate to give Kyle Broflovski the finger. He couldn't, no. He didn't want to understand him.

The last couple of months had been harsh for Stanley, everything was sounding like literal shit to him. First, it happened when he was listening to the sixth album of Tween Wave. Perhaps Sharon was right, it did sound like crap. Due to his rebellious state and stubbornness, he just didn't want to admit it. Then it happened again and again to the point no one in South Park including Cartman, Kenny and his ' super best friend ' Kyle wanted to hang out with him anymore. They were avoiding him like the plague. Sneaking out to go to places, not inviting him out, hell not even calling or texting him anymore. What a great fucking friend he was. Kyle. Well fuck them.

He didn't need them. He could do anything he wanted now that Kyle was out of his ass, following him around as he was his tail. Yeah, they had to everything together because God forbid if he didn't want to hang out with him or do anything without him, his possessiveness was showing. Immediately guilt tripping him like he was a chick. It had gotten so worse that Cartman was practically calling him ' Stan's nagging dirty jew of a wife '. He didn't need Cartman and he definitely didn't need Kenny. That traitor, back stabbing two faced Kenny Fucking Mccormick.

He thought at least Kenny had the decency to acknowledge him as a person, that he was there, that he was seen and heard but no. He immediately spiraled and started to hang out with Butters, Craig and Tweek. He didn't have anything against them but fuck Kenny! Fuck Kyle too!

He kicked the small pebble on the pavement as he lowered his head and put his hands in his pockets. His mom had became so worried of his state that she sent him off to a doctor and immediately was diagnosed with Aspergers and the only way to get rid of it was, well alcohol.

Stan was never much of a big drinker. Hell, he wasn't a drinker at all. But due to some circumstances he just had to, so he could feel like himself again. That way the world didn't seem so shitty anymore.

A sudden noise coming from a distance caught Stan's attention almost immediately. He cocked his eyebrow to that direction. Slowly the inside corners of eyebrows slanting upward. Oh, there they were. Looking all chirpy and happy, selling burgers, satisfying customers. Stan wrinkled his nose, gritting his teeth with his mouth closed. He sucked in his cheek and curled his lip. " Really?" Stan thought, " Are they seriously doing this right now? Fucking assholes. "

This time. This time Stan wasn't going to let them ignore him. He ached to be seen. He ached for Kyle's attention. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, he definitely didn't know why he wanted that so bad. Maybe it was the fact his parents were divorcing, maybe the fact that the one person who should've been with him for the better or the worse was being friends with his own arch nemesis and selling burgers just to fuck with him. That was so typical of Kyle Broflovski.

A classic cliché dick move. Stan sharply inhaled as he thought about his next move. He had such anger boiling inside of him, if this was a cartoon he would've had fumes coming out of his ears.

He really needed some booze now. He craved for it for the very first time. Who knew alcohol could solve all of your problems?

" Fuck it! " Stan mumbled under his breath and went over to the stand. Kyle was the first one to notice him, he was staring Stan down. He cocked his head and pursed his lips tightly, it was looking like a thin line now. Stolen glances back and forth, actual glances darting on anything but Stan. He excused himself as Cartman gave him a nod. Was he asking for permission now? Worse, permission from the ' fatass ' as Kyle used to call him all the time?