Pinku Cat Cafe [South Park x Reader]

I Pushed Out The Baby But I Don't Know Who The Father Is

"Ugh, he's still going?" Craig grumbles. It has been a long time... every time someone has tried to go next, Trent gives them this deathly glare that makes them cower and give up on their little activity.

"He's scary," Bradley says quietly, purposefully not looking in that direction so he won't get the evil eye. He just slowly sips his sprite. You're pretty sure that the caffeine in the soda won't help his anxiety very much. You won't tell him that, though. You don't want to upset him.

"Why don't you do something about it if you're going to complain?" You ask with a furrow of your brow.

"No way in hell. I don't sing in front of people, and Tweek would have a panic attack."

You look at Bradley. He simply shakes his head. You sigh and rub your temples in thought. Sure, you could do something about this, but you don't have your costume right now, nor your staff. You also have never sung in front of people before, so you don't know if you're even decent enough to challenge this guy. Besides... what can be more niche than the goth music he's singing?

Niche... niche... you could always do an anime opening, but you think that it would be a little too much considering most of the people in this town only speak English... shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Wait. You may have an idea. You stand up and raise your hand right as the DJ asks if anyone would please take the stand next. As expected, the blue eyes of Trent Boyett narrow at you and a scowl comes upon his features. Not wanting to back down, you do the same expression right back at him.

"Oh, thank God. Come on up, young lady," the DJ breathes, to which you nod and take the stand next to Trent. You look at him expectantly and hold your hand out. You're handed the mic, albeit begrudgingly. With your other hand, you fish out your phone and show the man in charge the instrumental you want.

All is silent for now. Everyone is staring at you with wide eyes, even your rival. You bring your mic to your lips and take a deep breath till the music starts.

"In college, I spent all my days— my back, my shoulders, thighs exposed in most material ways, to make it through the night! I tried protection but did it stay on? Well it didn't, that is why I've got lug around this fleshy nine month whore-ish crown!"

"The father, Jacob, Jason, or Dean; Who knows? Who is the face? Who is the man who planted the seed inside below my waist? I'm trying to eat healthy, this baby has some picky taste! You probably would like to know the— ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!"

The bass and guitar increase, and you don't dare look at the crowd. Instead, you're singing your heart out to this absolutely raunchy rock song.

"Five ways that I'll reach around this fucking instrument without a second chance to write this song, about the man who put his dong inside of me! Why can't I see the face that's looking longingly up at the eyes who can not cry about the child that is a—"

"Lie straight to the face of mom who thought I had it with a blond with Christian morals and the fix, but it's from anonymous dick! I pushed it out and with a pout, I looked at her face short and stout! I couldn't recognise the eyes the baby had— I'm freaking out!"

"I squeezed put the baby, was it Tyler, Mark, or Brady? Man, my memory is hazy of the man who helped me make this creature! Did I have it with my teacher? Then again he's just some scholar guy that I blew!"

The instrumental kicks in once more, as there are no lyrics for a good thirty seconds. You open your eyes and find shocked expressions all around. Your eyes lock with your rival's and a smirk comes upon your face. 'Your face is red from the embarrassment of these lyrics, right? Embarrassment that no one knows these lyrics so they can't one up me, right?' You think.