College Days (A South Park Style Fanfic)

I Hope You Die

"I hope you flip some guy the bird
He cuts you off and you're forced to swerve
In front of the Beatles' tour bus
A Bookmobile and a Mack truck"

One of Stan's favorite bands, sadly, was The Bloodhound Gang. Infamous songs and dirty, addicting lyrics, he enjoyed their sharpness musically. And from the app the bar used he chose "I Hope You Die", a comfort song that he can play to over and over again.

"God, this awful band is usually a sign of distress." A familiar voice said next to Stan.

Kyle sighed and tilted his head, looking at his friend with worry.

"I'm sorry, Stan. Why'd she go?" He asked politely.

Stan sighed and took a swig of his Jameson, clearing his throat and looking back at the ginger.

"Because I need help. I don't let her help, cause I don't have a clue how to open up." He answered quietly, almost run down. The alcohol was starting it's effect and made Stan's cheeks rosy.

Kyle opened his mouth to say something, then paused. He watched as the alcohol kicked in and made Stan relax the tension in his shoulders.

"She's not wrong for that. I mean, dude, you've been drinking for almost a decade, and you don't help yourself. You let yourself go, and for what?" The red head exclaimed, leaning in close.

"This is her trying to wake you up!"

"Alright well it's working, is that what you wanna hear? The both of you?" He replied smartly, exhaling sharply afterwards.

"You two are the same, just, different genders."

"Yeah that's why you're a real sucker for me, huh? Fuck off, Stan, we care about you but you wanna be a jack off."

"Well I'm so fucking sorry I can't control how I feel!"

"You can, you choose not. You choose to use others strength to continue on diminishing yours."

Stan fell silent while looking at Kyle. It was cold, hard truth that Stan needs drilled into his head.

"Come on, let's grab Beefy Melts from the bell and smoke."

Stan nodded and scratched his head, following Kyle outside and into his car. They got in, started up the music, and went on the road.

Stan lit up another cigarette and let his arm hang out the window, looking outside to the stars.

"Ky, we should jam again soon. I've been...itching for my bass." Stan suggested, tapping the ash off of his cigarette.

Kyle gave a second then nodded slowly. He hasn't touched his guitar in ages, Stan taught him since he preferred the sound of bass.

"Well, I think Kenny has his set in that storage room he rents out." Kyle replied with his eyes on the road.

"That works...that's my first step."

Kyle grinned weakly, hearing probably the smartest thing to come from Stan in years.
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In his room, Stan continued to drink and watch tv. Shirtless with basketball shorts, he let the fan hit him on high.

Kyle knocked before entering in with Kenny, glancing at his body then the TV. Kenny made himself at home, launching himself into Stan's bed.

"So, band together again? You got time now as a single man." Kenny questioned the drunk.

Stan nodded and sat up, sniffling and clearing his throat.

"Yeah man, I mean, it's a great escape and good money. We can score girls." He answered Kenny, scratching his slightly hairy chest.