Nothing makes you feel more welcomed somewhere than having a couple of big-ass lasers pointed at you with an angry robotic voice shouting at the two of you to top it off.
"You are a minor approaching an area with controlled substances. Step away from the door or you will be terminated."
That's inconvenient. You never had an issue getting inside on your own, as you were a trusted 'customer' and were set as an exception in the machine's system, but it clearly wasn't the same for Dovah, who was still 17.
"I can get inside on my own if you wa- or you can go rummage in people's cars and start making a burrito out of nowhere, that might work as well." You started talking and turned to look and Dovah only to see him minding his own business and making a burrito out of stuff stolen from a parked car, which seemed to be a normal occurrence for him, as he had been taking stuff from every single place you were visiting with him, even Jimmy's house, but still. Kind of... odd.
Before he started to assemble his creation, he handed you his phone which had a notification written on it. Figuring he wanted you to read it, you did.
Cartman's post said, 'Don't worry about the security system, Butthole. I'm like 60% sure those guns are totally fake.'
You stared at it silently, wondering if you had read it right. You blinked once, twice, and the text never changed.
You decided right then and there that once Cartman arrived there, you'd try and push him into the lasers so he can confirm his 60% theory. Will he turn into swiss cheese, will he not? Only time will tell.
A terrible smell snapped you out of your second murder plan with Cartman as the victim. Facing Dovah, you took a step back, your free hand covering your nose. That taco he had made was a biohazard.
"You... you're not going to eat that, are you?" You asked. He looked at you, then at the burrito in his hand.
In a matter of seconds, he had stuffed the entire thing inside his mouth and eaten it. 'Ew.'
➤𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎: He just obtained the ability to stop time thanks to that monstrosity. Hurray.
'I- how.'
You didn't even have the time to blink after that pop-up appeared, once your eyes opened again, the lasers and security system got disabled.
"You and your tacos scare me, dude." You said. "How can tacos give someone superpowers?"
He shrugged. 'It's Morgan Freeman's recipe, not mine. Go ask him :D'
"I think I'm fine with not knowing," you started, "let's get in now."
Just as you're about to enter the store, someone you wished had appeared when the lasers were still active made his appearance.
"Ah, New Kid, Metis! I see you've also come to assist in assuring Classi's cooperation." Cartman made his entrance, ignoring your death glare.
He walked next to you, in front of the door and motioned for you two to get inside with his hand, "Please, after you."
Dovah made his way inside, but you remained outside to speak to Cartman.
"You're so goddamn lucky I don't have a Raccoongram account or I would've blasted your ass after that tweet you sent to Dovah." You smiled one of your most threatening smiles as you said this.
"What the fuck did I do now?" He complained, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"60% sure the guns are fake? Remember saying that?" You put your hands to your hips, "They would've turned him into swiss cheese, you moron."
"If he actually walked there and got killed by the lasers then it would've been natural selection. No one's that fucking dumb!"
"You're not wrong." You sigh. "Still would've loved to push you into the lasers to test them out tho."
"You b-" You shut him up by putting a hand on his mouth.
"Sorry but I don't feel like listening to you scream, you ray of sunshine." You took your hand off of him and open the store's door, "Let's just get in."
You heard him mumble something under his breath as you got in, but ignored him the same way you did when he, a few seconds later, screamed about how stupid it was of you not to have a Raccoongram account for your hero persona as everyone does. "IT'S FOR PUBLICITY, GODDAMIT!"
He could never force you to have one, anyway.
𝘙𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵 (𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦) - 𝘎𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘑𝘢𝘢𝘯𝘪
0:00 ❍───────── 2:28
↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺
"Oh, hey Eric." Greeted Towelie, who had just gone up the counter. He probably hadn't seen you yet as you were behind both Dovah and Cartman.
"Oh wow, Towelie! I thought you went to rehab."
"Yeah, I did, but now I'm back in South Park. Clean and sober almost a year. No drugs at all. And I tell you what, I don't miss it!" The living towel started with a smile, his tone turning to harsh, together with his expression which turned super serious, as he emphasized the last part.
"And you work here in a pot store?" Cartman asked. The confusion was understandable. Why would someone who was done with rehab start working in a store that sold the exact thing he went to rehab for?
"Cannabis, Eric, and yeah, it's great! Now I get high, helping people cure their insomnia, back pain, migraines, and stress, naturally!" He looked happy about his current situation and you couldn't help but smile too. You had a feeling, though, that it wouldn't last for long. "Did you know that ancient Chinese gave cannabis to their infants for teething?"
"Wow." What a wonderful, completely not useless, fact! The more you know.
"I have an addictive personality, so I'm cool without it. And now, I got a kid with my lady, so, better to stay on the straight and narrow, you know?" He explained with a smile.
"You have a kid, right." The scepticism in your leader's voice was clear and it showed itself on your face as well.
'How do towels even repr- you know what, if it's true I don't even want to know.'
"Turns out I had one the whole time! I was too high to realize." What.
"Now, I'm holding down a job and paying the rent." You mentally congratulated the guy, happy to know he had it all: a family, a job, a house (on rent)... good for him, good for him.
"But I'm also doing good, helping people find the herbal remedies they need, to combat all the modern stresses of a job and TAXES and TRAFFIC and a WIFE breathing down my neck about the apartment and 'Towelie! We got a leak!', 'Why can't you fix it?!' 'I'm not a plumber, bitch! I'm a towel, not a fucking plumber!' " He got progressively angrier and angrier as he kept going. You took your words back, you're not so sure that was good for him.
"Towelie, buddy, we're soooo happy to be hearing about your life," you started, pushing through your friends so you're in the front and now visible to Towelie, "but we're here for something, and that something is getting Classi's prescription."
With all due respect, you didn't want him to start talking about his entire life story, therefore you had to stop him.
"Oh, Y/N! It's good to see you again!" He started, having calmed down a bit, "Is it for Classi with a Y with a cl-"
"Nope. Classi with a dick hanging off the I that's fucking the L out of the A-S-S."
"Oh, that Classi. Sure, I got her order!" He turned around to search for it and turned back with an orange contain with a white lid, which he took off to make sure nothing was wrong with its content. Much to everyone's displeasure, something was indeed wrong and one of his anger fits started.
"Wait... what the fuck? Who put the Chillax Kush in with the OG Mellowbliss?! What the fuck, you [redacted]?! People don't wanna mix their mellow with their chill! They'll get all fucked up! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!" He started shaking as he got progressively more agitated and the volume of his voice raised.
"Hey hey, Towelie. It's cool, relax..." Cartman put his hands in front of himself, trying to calm the towel.
"Yeah, bud! It's totally fine, good thing you checked! There's no need to get angry!" You tried to chime in as well, hoping you two would be able to make him relax, but to no avail. He was already too angry and there was no way of calming him down.
"No, it is not fucking cool! I'm trying to run a legitimate business here and my back hurts. I can't sleep, I got no appetite, this shitty town is so fucked up." You nodded at the last part. South park? Pure hell. "We gotta buy all our product from fucking sixth graders! And who knows what the shit they're putting in it! And then to top it off I got a couple of little-dick-lickers coming into my store," he repeatedly banged his fists against the counter in rage, making some of the weed fall on the grounds, "telling me to fucking relax! Fuck you! You relax! You're a towel!"
He jumped over the counter, making the three of you step back and then run near the store's door, trying to avoid getting hit by the now enraged towel.
"Are we seriously going to fight a fucking towel?!" You screamed, getting your bo out and readying yourself to beat up a towel who was threatening you. How you wished that was the weirdest thing you had ever done in that town.
"Budtenders, get in here! It's time to give these kids a fucking consultation!" Towelie called for help, and two employers appeared from the back of the store. Poor Miles and Todd. Bad day to work with an enraged towel.
"A towel AND two hippies!" Cartman exclaimed in frustration, getting his claws ready to... hopefully destroy the towel.
Would that be considered murder?
𝘗𝘰 𝘱𝘪 𝘱𝘰 - 𝘓𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘗 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵. 𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘶
0:05 ❍───────── 2:59
↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺
There's only one thing you can do if the raging towel you're trying to destroy seems to be invincible and unable to get even one single millimetre of its surface torn. That one thing is hitting its weak spot, and if that weak spot is getting high, then you'll get it high.
Is it morally wrong to make someone, or something, in this case, relapse simply because you're getting fed up with its continuous 'You like that, you stupid towels?' and 'I can do this all day. Because I'm a super-absorbent towel, motherfuckers!'? Absolutely. If you do that you're the worst kind of person.
The real question is, though: do you really care? No, not really. If the powers of three people combined won't work on a damn towel then the only option you have is getting it high so you can finally get the prescription you need. Moral compass? Never heard of it.
That is the way by which you three, who now reeked with the smell of weed, managed to finally make the towel calm down.
"Ay, this is for Classi. I threw in a couple of hash nuggets and some Granddaddy Purple Shatter on the house. Come by anytime for a hookup." He handed the medicine to you, who pocketed it instantly, wanting to get out of the store as soon as possible.
"Yeah, thanks, pal. See you." You hastily walked outside, finally able to take in one good breath of fresh air. It's a miracle none of you got high from all the fumes inside the store.
"Well done, New Kid. Now get that over to Classi." Cartman forcefully took the medicines out of your hand and gave them to Dovah, motioning for him to hurry up and give them to the woman. You just looked at them confused, especially when Dovah actually walked away with them in hand.
"Uh, I was part of the mission too, you know?"
"Of course I know, I'm the one who gave you the mission in the first place!" He scoffed and turned to face you fully then extended one of his hands to you, "Now give me your phone."
"What? No." You refused, "Why would I give it to you?"
"You NEED a Raccoongram account!"
"What, for my superhero persona?"
"Yes!" He kept motioning for you to give him the phone, "It's for marketing purposes!"
"I want nothing to do with your series or whatever you're trying to do though?"
"I. DON'T. CARE. Hand it to me, you asocial bitch." He demanded, "You'll need it for missions and updates anyway, we post important stuff there sometimes."
"Okay, first thing first, ouch." You took your phone out of a bag on your utility belt and handed it to him,"Second thing second, you... do know that's not really smart, right? I mean I assume you do, but writing everything on there? With everyone in town having an account? That's fucking stupid."
"Whatever you say, Metis. Whatever you say." He ignores you and starts tapping everywhere on your phone, quickly downloading the app and making an account for you AND your hero persona. You had no idea how a decent picture of you in your current 'hero costume' happened to be on your phone, but alright, he somehow gave a decent profile picture and description to both of your accounts.
All of that without forgetting to make you follow both The Raccoon and his normal account with your profile because obviously, he wants the follows.
"There. Use them." He shoved the phone in your hands and turned around, "Remember to give us good publicity with the Metis account or you're out of the franchise!"
He walked away after that, no words added.
'Oh no... out of the franchise... why would I ever want that to happen... o h n o o-'
Ignoring your not sarcastic at all thoughts, you decide to make your way to your home, wanting to take a fast shower and maybe change your pants and shirt with another pair, still black, so you can perhaps stop smelling like you just did drugs or something and so your parents won't kill you when they see you at dinner. Good thing they worked in the afternoon.
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵 - 𝘛𝘐𝘊, 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴
0:05 ❍───────── 2:05
↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺
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𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄?
➤【𝒀𝑬𝑺】 『𝐍𝐎』
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╔═══━━━ • ━━━━═══╗
𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃
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