Honestly, fuck this.

Then it all begins.

(Five thousand words excluding these notes. FIVE THOUSAND! This is for the starting chapter. I would never do this for any other chapter. As well as that, there are headcanons in here. If someone complains about that song, fuck you, it's great.
-Eko.)

The silence fills the classroom as Wendy and Butters, the student council people, walk in after their clearly long moment of being elsewhere.

"Alright, so.... our Santa Claus got sick, like the one our school promised to do...."

"I can go," I say.

"No, you have things to do here for the play."

I nod and look around the room for someone.

"Sorry, I'm already in something else," Stan says as a lot of people look at him, honestly, he has the same excuse as me.

Slowly everyone starts backing away and trying to think of something they have to do.

"Kenny?"

"I don't have a minute to spare. Speaking of which.... what homework do we have? I have to go now."

"The pages we read."

"Thanks!"

He speeds out the room.

"Honestly.... is nobody gonna do it?" Wendy asks.

"I can—," Clyde says.

"You already have a lot, babe."

"Eric?" Butters asks.

"No."

"Oh c'mon, it's good for you to do some kind of a job."

"I said no. I have a right to say so."

"Yeah but I also have the right to tell the principal about how you haven't done work experience this year," our teacher says.

"So what?"

"That'll lead to a lot of trouble for you."

I laugh, oh I have to see this shit.

"I'll fight you if you don't," I say.

"Fucking Jew..."

"Indeed. Now, I did a double to keep the register up... which was shit. So I will sue you for emotional damage."

"Oh is money are you give a shit about?"

"No, your suffering is way above money in my life, I have a scholarship coming."

"Oh fine, I'll do it," Cartman says.

"Thank you, Eric," Butters says.

"Yeah thank you, Eric," I say, saying his name with the most hatred I've heard in my own voice for a while.

"Now, Eric, we need you to try the costume and learn everything. Your next chosen class will be notified."

Stan and I both chuckle.

"Which one gets the camera that day?" He asks.

"Dude, we have phones."

"I wanna hang it."

"Why?"

"Because it's blackmail material."

"Ah now you're talkin'," I say.

I get my bag.

"Let's go, drama next."

We start walking, both. Stan took drama with me because I wanted to take it and I took music with him because he wanted that one.