Smoke ~ a Goth Kids fanfiction

The Goth Kids Special

40 minutes elapsed. 

40 sedate minutes of nerves bound up into a bundle as we drove to our mysterious destination. 

Henrietta had some strange beat by Lebanon Hanover playing as ambient noise in the vehicle, Kyle and Stan were muttering to each other, Butters was watching TikToks at too high of a volume, and I was about to get a migraine. I allowed my head to thump against the window as the hearse hit a pothole, and I felt a familiar hand crawl onto my shoulder.

"Babe, are you okay?" Michael (whom we had retrieved from his hovel on our journey to Tegridy Farms) inquired.

"Yeah. I'm fine, just kind of overwhelmed I suppose. That's all." I answered quietly.

"I know. I feel the same way. But at least it's not my psycho dad going after me. I don't know how you're able to handle it." He replied, awkwardly fiddling with his ring as he spoke.

"I'm not handling it. I've barely even begun to. Everything that's happened after I saw that stupid wanted poster has been a blur. I'm just being dragged under by the riptide and I'm not doing anything to resist." I sighed.

Michael turned away, and provided his hand in mine to console my restless mind. He did not offer any words, but his calming presence was enough for me. 

"We're here! Sorry I'm advance for my dad! He can be a bit of an asshole sometimes..." Stan's voice pulled me out of my zoned out state.

"That's totally not insensitive." Kyle stated as he threw the car door open.

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The home was warm, cozy, comforting, and most importantly, was permeated by the disarming scent of weed. I was used to the smell of smoke from Michael's cigarettes, but the herb was something I would have to acclimate to. 

"Wow, I didn't know your house was such a shithole, Stan." Henrietta chuckled, and draped her coat on the arm of his gabardine couch.

"Hey! I mean you're not wrong, but still!" He playfully protested, his smile not reaching his eyes. 

"Guys, shouldn't we all be focusing on trying to get Y/N's father to stop being such a creep?" Kyle volunteered, his snowboots causing the oak floor to creek as he trod upon the vintage boards. 

"Yeah! But let's get some food first- my tummy's a little grumbly." Butters peeped. 

The group agreed, and we relocated to the kitchen, where we all crowded around a round wooden table, cheesy poofs and pop-tarts in hand, ready to plot our master plan.

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Unfortunately, we came up with nothing. 

Our feeble teenage brains were so overwhelmed from the days events that our minds could not handle any more stress... or thoughts for that matter.

I slumped over in my seat, allowing my elbows to prop up my frame. 

"I'm just worried. Worried that if we don't come up with something now, he'll come for me." I murmured. 

"Don't worry. He won't be able to find you here. It's private property anyway. Meaning my dad will wring the neck of anyone who steps foot here without a warrant." Stan added.

Suddenly, a flash went off in my brain- a lightbulb of thought emanated a brilliant idea. An idea that could possibly save my life. 

"That's it!" I exclaimed, my finger hovering in the air.

"What is it?" Michael asked fervently.

"Stan said that his father would wring the neck of whoever came onto his property, right?"

"Uh Huh?" Henrietta leaned forward in investment.

"Well, what if we somehow lured him here? Like without Mr. Marsh knowing? So then he'll freak out on him and hopefully- well let's just say hopefully I wouldn't have to deal with him again." I concluded my plan ecstatically. 

"You know, I think that just might work!" Kyle ceased his pacing and took a serious tone. 

"I hope that-" Butter's comment was cut off by a booming voice from an unknown source pounding through the room.

"Now I think I just might be able to help you... does your father like Lorde by any chance?" Randy Marsh appeared in the doorway, just a dramatic silhouette at first, then as he stepped into a ray of sunlight being projected by the sinking sun, his glory was revealed. He donned a black mustache that resembled a caterpillar, wore a blue, ratty button up shirt, and a strand of hay was nestled loosely in between his lips. I was a tad starstruck at the sight of him, although I regained my bearings and managed to reply with a meek...

"No, unfortunately he hates Lorde."

"Wow, now I really wanna kill this guy." He removed the hay from his mouth and spun it around with his fingers. "Would he be interested in a Marijuana special?" 

"He definitely might be."

"What if we called it "The Goth Kids Special"?" A mischievous smile overtook his features as he placed his hands on his hips.

I glanced at Stan who simply shrugged. I guess we had found an ally in an unexpected place. 

A/N:

Wow! I finally updated! Good for me! I apologize for the lack of content being created currently, along with the quality of this chapter- it's definitely sub-standard to what my work usually is I feel like. Well, o hope you all enjoy where this story is headed. I am sorry for how it jumps around so much- I had no clear direction of where it was going when I began writing, so it had been a bit of a roller-coaster in where it is going. 

Love, Swag, and Happy Holidays🖤

-Dorian/Wolf