Craig of the Dead

11. Craig and the Homos

Stan looked awful. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his black hair was greasy and matted, his hat crumpled in a dirty ball in his lap. He was laying on the ground, looking miserable. The thing that worried me most, however, was his clothes. They were covered in bloodstains on one side, and his face was even smeared with dark red in some places.

"STAN!" I yelled, practically leaping towards my friend. "Are you okay? Did you get bit? Why are you bleeding?" I shook his shoulders violently.

"It's not mine." He mumbled.

"Are you drunk?" Craig asked from behind me.

"Not quite. Working on it." He brought the rim of the bottle to his lips, but I snatched the glass from his hands and threw it across the street. It shattered on the pavement, spraying green shards everywhere. Probably a stupid move for when we would have to circle back and walk through the street, through the broken glass, but right now I had bigger problems.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT YOURS? STAN ARE YOU OKAY?"

"Kyle, you need to calm down." He rubbed his eyes groggily. "The blood, it's not mine. It's from a boy named Bradley who was gay for Butters."

"Huh?" Craig looked completely flabbergasted.

"Wh...what?" Butters stammered. His face had fallen and it went pale. He pushed his way to the front and knelt next to Stan.

"Guys, are you not hearing this? Who would be gay for Butters?"

"Bradley."

"Stan, you've gotta be shitting me right now."

"Better believe it."

"No... Bradley wouldn't be in... unless he was.... there's an awful lot of blood on your shirt." Butters sniffled.

"Yeah, there probably is, considering Bradly bled to death." Stan looked up at Butters, who was tearing up. His face softened, and I could almost see tears forming in his eyes too, but he blinked them back before anyone could notice. "He, uh, wanted you to know that he loved you. You were the one thing that kept him going. He missed you a whole lot..."

"I thought Bradley was bi-curious? How could he love me if—" Butters said between tears.

"Bradley just said that, he's actually gay. Gay for you."

"He... lied to me?" Butters wiped his face with his sleeve.

"Not just you, to everyone. Even himself, I think. I guess he just thought if he said it enough it would just become true."

"Where did you bury him? Could I visit his grave maybe? Just to pay my respects to an old friend?"

"When would Stan find the time to dig a grave?" Craig said sarcastically.

"No, Butters, he was bit. I didn't know what to do with the body so I locked it in a cell at the mental hospital. That way, when he reanimates, he won't be able to hurt anyone."

"What?" Butters asked with wide eyes. I shuddered at the thought. Thinking of the sterile padded room with one red puddle on the floor and some kid's corpse lying in the middle of it. I could still remember my stay at the institute. It was a while ago, but recalling that time still gave me nightmares. Not being able to move, nurses coming in to force pills down your throat every couple of hours. The blindingly white walls mocking you as you sat there. By yourself. Alone, for what seemed to be forever.

I looked at Stan feeling a sudden rush of joy at seeing my friend. He was okay. He had survived. And so had I. I wasn't alone. Even though I had yet to find Ike and Kenny, at least I had my Super Best Friend, and we would get through this together.