fandomhighdorms | Third Floor Common Room, Monday Evening

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Third Floor Common Room, Monday Evening

Just like he'd done a thousand times before, Topher walked into an empty common room, flopped down in front of the TV, hit the power button, and hoped it would give him something watchable.

It wasn't that much of a changer-upper, then, when instead of giving him something watchable, it gave him a spelling bee. Not even an impressive one. As far as Topher could tell, it was just a random elementary school.

After his fourth attempt to turn it off, he just left it on and ordered some wings, munching on them as he watched. Damn, those kids could spell.

[[idk. my sister is telling me a story about a spelling bee. OPEN LIKE A COMMON ROOM, anyway.]]

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Butters walked into the common room...

...and promptly noticed that it wasn't the second floor one. "Aw, hamburgers," he swore, stomping a foot and snapping his fingers and settling into pouting. "It's happenin' all over again."

Just when he thought he'd beaten...whatever it was that seemed fond of taking him to other common rooms when all he wanted was to go into his own.

Topher paused with a wing halfway to the dip.

"...you have a thing about spelling bees?"

He could understand that. They were a little bit lame.

"Aw, no," said Butters, shuffling over to the couch and plopping down on it with a big sigh. He shook his head. "Not spellin' bees, although you know home schooled kids always win those things. Naw, I'm just upset because I was doin' so good! Every time I wanted to go to the second floor common room, what with that being the floor I live on, I would just get up, and go. But now it's back to puttin' me in other common rooms, like this one, all over again. Maybe it's because it's a new semester. I thought I finally had it beat, I did."

Topher pondered that predicament. "Does anything cool ever actually happen down there?"

"Well, sure," said Butters, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Lots of cool stuff. That's where all the good TV shows always play. I mean, up here, all you have is stupid spelling bees."

"Hey," Topher objected, feeling weirdly protective over the spelling bee he completely hadn't wanted to watch in the first place. "That kid just spelled caoutchouc."

Butters pondered this.

"...Can you use that in a sentence?"

Topher snorted. "Nope."

"What is the origin?" Butters asked.

"Spanish maybe?" Topher had no idea. "C-a-o-u-t-c-h-o-u-c. Google it?"

"Definition?"

See, now Butters was just being silly.

Topher held up his phone. "Google," he reiterated. "Popular search engine."

Don't be mean to Butters, Topher, it wasn't nice.

"I don't think that's correct," stated Butters, who then giggled a little, and shook his head in amusement at Topher. "Clearly, you've never been in a spellin' bee yourself!"

"That would be true," Topher agreed. "Science fairs are more my thing. I'm guessing you're more a spelling kind of guy?"

"Only because I'd be grounded if I didn't got to them," Butters shrugged again. "But, like I said, the home school kids always won. And science fairs can be dangerous. One time, my friends back home, they tried to breed an elephant and a pig, to make a pot-bellied pig, but it didn't work very well, just like that old Loverboy song. You know how it goes...♪ Pig and elephant DNA, just won't slice! ♪. Anyway, it turned out that some other kids in the class were trying to clone my friend Stan for their project, and the clone, why, he went all crazy and rampaged through the town. They had to kill it, and his sister took the blame, although we all know Terrance did it. And then Terrance wound up gettin' first place for his five-assed monkey."

And people wondered how nothing at Fandom phased Butters.

...

...

"That is not how to make a pot-bellied pig."

FYI.

"....I messed that up," Butters said. "It was a pot-bellied elephant they were trying to make; the pig was already pot-bellied, and Kyle wanted an elephant, but it was too big, and so his mom, she's a real bitch, said no, and so he thought they could make one, but it didn't work. Eric's pig's babies just wound up lookin' like Mr. Garrison, our teacher. Boy, that was a real weird science fair..."

"That is also not how to make a pot-bellied elephant," Topher continued. "Also, hi, crazy ambitious for an amateur science fair. I bet you haven't even won any awards."

Neeeerd.

"N-not for science, no," said Butters, looking sad for a moment as he tapped his fingers together a little nervously. "That wasn't my project, neither. I did a diorama on how all the unicorns died out on account of Noah forgettin' to take 'em on the Arc."

Topher sighed and pinched his forehead. "That's also not legit science," he informed Butters. "Possibly less legit than the other thing. Come on, dude."

"Um." Butters shifted a little. "What about the one time I froze my buddy Eric so that he could wind up in the future and not have to wait for the Nintendo Wii to come out? Is that legit science?"

...

"No."

Oh, Butters.

"You might want to stick to... asking questions about how to spell things," Topher advised. Not very gently, no.

Oh, but see, now Butters was on a roll. His mind was opening up to all sorts of scientific possibilities.

You brought this on yourself, Topher.

"But what about...what about...the government genetically engineering Towels that never get wet, even if the towels are all part of some alien plot to take over the world? Is that legit science?"

Topher thought about that.

"Well, it depends on what kind of world you come from," he granted after a minute. "If your physics is... really, really weird, maybe that can be a thing."

"Yeah," said Butters thoughtfully, "Towelie started out as a real good Towel, but then he just kept getting high. He used to be real fluffy and absorbent, then he got crusty and unable to absorb even the smallest bit of water. We thought maybe he'd clean up once he had a girlfriend he really liked, and she got pregnant and had a little washcloth, but, nope. No such luck. Poor genetically-altered alien space Towel...."

...

"Are you on drugs?" Topher wanted to know.

"Oh, no," Butters said emphatically. "No way, sir! Drugs are bad, mm'kay? Besdies, I'd be grounded if I went on drugs, especially after my parents went through the trouble of hiring a fake Older Me from the Future to show me what would happen to me if I was addicted to drugs and sex and other bad things."

"Then you're from a pretty weird world, bro," Topher counseled Butters. "I'm almost jealous."

Except he liked logic, so no, he really wasn't.

"It's not that weird," Butters protested, "it's not any different than here, really."

Which was weird, Butters. Just so you know.

"You know this place is a little insane, right?" Topher checked. "Sometimes we turn into girls."

And sometimes horses.

"I know!" Butters bit his lip to contain his excitement, hands folded together and brought up happily to his chin. "It's the best!"

Topher let out a squawk of indignity. "Is not!"

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Third Floor Common Room, Monday Evening

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