fandomhighdorms | Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

Entry tags:

Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

Roy's stuff was all packed up, ready for him to head out tomorrow. He'd found a cheap apartment in a crappy part of New York, and he had a job lined up working at an outpatient rehab clinic. Heading group therapy. He still wasn't sure why they thought he was the man for the job, considering some days he still didn't feel all that recovered himself, and he probably would stay in it exactly until he found something else, but...maybe he could help some people, you know? And he needed the money for rent.

In the meantime, he had one last thing he had to do before he left town: make chili. He'd been wanting it, and...well, it was always funny when someone tasted it for the first time, so he hoped some unsuspecting kid would drop by. Even superheroes have their evil streaks.

((Last post for Roy in Fandom, woe!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Aw, it was all little and cute. He almost hated to do this to the kid. "It sure is," Roy said. "You want some? There's plenty." He added a few more dashes of Tabasco to the pot. You know. Just in case.

As soon as the question of whether or not Butters want any was proposed, his eyes went wide and his head started to shake. The tapping became more furious and the stutter more pronounced. "Uhh, um, no, thank you," he said. "I...don't really like chili too much. Had a bad experience with chili once. Well, not me, but, hoo boy, believe me, it was bad. Bad enough to turn anyone off chili, I bet."

"Oh," Roy said, looking kind of disappointed. "You already met Ollie, huh?"

"Ollie?" Butters asked. "Who's Ollie?"

Pause.

"That's not a nickname for Warren's girlfriend, is it?"

"Karla? No, Karla just can't cook, and everybody knows it except Karla." And the unsuspecting. She and Roy had that in common, except for how Roy knew exactly what kind of culinary napalm he was peddling. "Ollie is...long story. Did Karla make chili? So glad I missed that."

"No," Butters said. "Not Karla. Not that I know of."

Still, the thought made him shudder and made him realize that maybe his experience wasn't so bad.

"I'm talkin' about this one time, when my friend Eric made chili. Haven't been able to eat it ever since. All it does is make me think of how he chopped up Scott Tenorman's poor parents an' put 'em right there in it and then made Scott eat it right up like it was nothin' at all."

Roy stared. And then he stared some more. And then he finally managed to find some words. "Your friend?!"

Butters hesitated.

"Well," he allowed. "Eric's not too good of a friend. He's kind of a jerk."

Understatement, one of Butters' well-known talents.

"That sounds like something the Joker would do. If he were even more crazy." Maybe if Roy was from the nineties and not the seventies.

"The Joker?" asked Butters, thinking this didn't sound very good. That almost sounded like some sort of superhero identity name, and he knew the Coon wouldn't want more competition again...

"Crazy clown guy," Roy said, his brain operating on autopilot. "Lives in Gotham. Fights Batman a lot. Your universe probably doesn't have to worry about him."

When he heard crazy clown guy, Butters' mind went to one place.

"That's not the Imaginationland guy, is it?"

"No," Roy said, "no, that doesn't sound familiar."

"Oh." Butters looked instantly relieved. "Oh, good. I sure didn't want to go through anything like that again. No way, nuh-uh, no thank you!"

"You...sound like you've had a very traumatic life." To be fair, so had Roy, but he hadn't come out like this kid.

"Oh, gee whiz," said Butters, blushing a little as he ducked his head. He scuffed his toe on the floor. "Not at all. I'm real lucky. I have a nice home and parents who love me and I get to go to school here on Fandom Island, and I've got my good friend Stan here, and two great jobs, one where I get to be a Postman! I'm bicurious and sure proud of it and I don't even have my sex addiction anymore and I've even managed to avoid all the drugs and alcohol and sex with loose women so far! And, hey, you know what? I don't even fall asleep to my own screams anymore, neither! Even if I sometimes still wake up to 'em, but I'd say I'm pretty happy."

...

This kid. This poor kid.

"Stay away from the drugs, kid," Roy finally advised. "They'll fuck you up. How does your roommate feel about the...screaming."

"Oh, yes, sir!" said Butters. "I sure plan to. That stuff is no good. And I don't think he's really notice. I try to keep it nice and quiet; sometimes I'd get grounded if I screamed too loud in the mornings and woke up Mom to early and everything. She needs her beauty sleep."

...grounded for screaming.

Right, well, Roy was leaving so he couldn't help this kid, but... "Have you considered...I don't know, counseling?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Fifth Floor Common Room, Thursday Evening

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject