South Park Oneshots & Texts

Plan B - Kenny x Reader

"I still don't understand why we have to drive so far for weed," you complained to your best friend as you fly down the highway, passing the guide sign for the city limits of Middle Park.

"Because Jake is out of town and this is the only other guy I know of who sells weight... he's our only plan B," your best friend (bff's name) explained yet again.

"But why do we need weight? We can make it, like, another week or whatever until Jake's back."

Jake was your best friend's neighbor and usual plug in Middle Park, where you all lived. Back in eighth grade, Jake started smoking weed, and naturally selling it, but a plug can't be everywhere at once, so for a free eighth here and there, you and your best friend started selling alongside him. Being the pretty, honor roll students that you were, no one suspected a thing. You also found that a lot of girls at school preferred to pick up their weed from a female plug.

As you all grew older, Jake made some higher connections in the industry, and became the middle man between you two and a larger, more organized product distributor in the area. To keep a low profile, Jake stopped selling entirely, and left it in both of your hands to sell the stock.

"He's in Costa Rica for two weeks, we don't have enough to make it that long, especially with finals coming- fuck!" She hit a bump in the road. "Besides, this guy that we're going to see is legit. He's basically part of the royal family of drugs in South Park. His parents cook meth, and Kevin, the guy, sells weed."

"Whatever you say," you mumbled as you watched the moonlight sparkle off the freshly fallen snow, the white-capped evergreen trees whizzing by. You had told your parents that you were going with (bff) to a movie at the Bijou in South Park, and only had so much time to get there and back without arousing suspicion. Even at 18, they kept a close eye on you. Rightfully so, since they knew that you got high sometimes, but they didn't know about your job, nor the money you made.

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, checking for the millionth time that the $1600 in your bra was still there. It was.

The car exited the highway and the twinkling lights of South Park appeared in the distance. For such a dumpy little town, it was pretty this time of night.

The car came to a slow stop in front of a baby-puke green house that looked like it was left over from the filming of a horror movie.

"You sure we're in the right place?" You asked.

"Yep, this is it." 

You stepped out of the car hesitantly and felt a nervous twinge in your stomach. If this went bad, it would go really bad. That was the downside to being girls that sold drugs - you were easy prey in an environment dominated by predators. But that's why you were packing.

You patted your chest again, but not checking for the bills this time. In the inside pocket of your oversized jacket was a tiny revolver, all six chambers loaded.

You followed your best friend up to the door as she knocked. She was the more outgoing one of the two of you, and you usually let her do all the talking.

"Yeah?" A tall man with a mustache and a red hat answered the door with a beer in his hand.

"We're here to see Kevin," (bff) answered.

"He's in the back." The man slammed the door in your faces and you shrugged at each other, following the walkway in front of the house to the gate between the house and the garage. It was open, and you stepped into the alley behind (bff). Being in the tight alley made you feel claustrophobic, which wasn't helping your anxiety.

Through the exit of the alley was a backyard fire, with several boys sitting around it on various cinderblocks and lawn furniture.

"Kevin?" (bff) called out.