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🔻Invisible cricket🔻

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park
Title: invisible cricket
Words: 2820

The orange rays of the late sun peaked through the side of the curtains, casting an oddly shaped spot of light on the carpet. It sort of resembled a duck, if the duck had a broken wing and a retarded frog on its head. His eyes were drawn to it, held prisoner on its brightness although he wasn't even seeing it at all. His mind had wandered to a distant place, creating a blank expression on his soft features.

His best friend resided in front of the couch, lain out on his stomach with his legs bent upward. His hands clutched each side of the script set before him as he continued to read the lines out loud, oblivious to the fact that he was the only one listening to himself.

"...For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Silence.

"And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Kyle repeated, keeping his eyes on the script. His lips drew into a thin line as he was greeted once again by the irritating sound of nothing. His legs hit the ground with a thud and he focused up on Stan's zombie-like stare. "Stan!"

He jumped, slammed immediately back down to reality.

"That's your line."

"What line?" He blinked.

Kyle let out a slow hiss of breath. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? That's your line, Romeo."

Stan glanced down at the piece of paper on his lap. "Oh."

"Oh?" Kyle repeated. He pushed himself upward. "I'm taking my time to help you, and you aren't even trying! You're the one who's been out sick for two weeks and needs extra practice, not me. I know all my lines, all yours and all Wendy's. Tell me, have you memorized any?"

Stan blinked again, eyes still unfocused. The paper seemed to stare back at him mockingly, but he didn't even glance at it. "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Stan's blank stare never wavered, even as a smile crept up Kyle's face. "So, you were listening."

Eyes glazed, his head shook slowly. "No."

Kyle frowned. "Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? You're acting like a zombie. Snap out of it."

Stan swallowed, shook his head as if to clear it. "I was just thinking... of..." He swallowed a second time. "Do you think what Cartman said actually meant anything?"

"Nothing Cartman says means anything." Kyle didn't hesitate to reply. "No, no. I take that back. It means he's a dumbass."

"But what if-"

"I really do want to give you a blowjob?" Kyle finished, one eyebrow raised. He shrugged. "So, what if I did?"

Stan's eyes widened, to which Kyle couldn't help but laugh. "Even if I did, I wouldn't try anything."

"Do you?"

Kyle smirked. "Do you want me to?"

Stan grunted, eyes narrowing in annoyance. He knew that smirk. He wasn't taking this seriously at all. "Kyle, I mean it. Everything he's said so far has actually happened."

"Why are you letting this bother you?" His tone was a mixture of demand, patience, and frustration as he slapped his hands down onto the script.

"Why isn't it bother you?" Stan questioned back. "You're the one who's always pissed at what Cartman has to say."