Chapter Text
“Butters had a scar on his face, too. He had forgotten for a second.”
This might’ve been the only waterfall in Colorado that didn’t freeze in the winter. The chlorine smell lingered under the onions. It was trapped in time, ignoring every season. Casa Bonita hadn’t changed since Butters was a kid. South Park had changed, his friends had changed, the whole world had changed. But Casa Bonita hadn’t changed. And Butters hadn’t changed.
And with his friends all here, it felt just like it did back in fourth grade. Before Stan spent all his time with Wendy. Before Kyle got too busy to hang out. Before Craig and his friends stopped sitting with them because of Eric. Eric Cartman hadn’t changed.
“Butters?”
The waterfall rumble grew louder and louder. Butters always felt weird in these little moments where everything was back to normal. It wasn’t all good back then, but it was real. Now everyone was behind a curtain. Everything was underwater. Rumbling.
“Butters, dude, stop spacing out,” Kenny said, with a little slap on the shoulder.
Kenny hadn’t changed, right? He was still nice to Butters. He still wore his parka inside. Sure, he was spending way more of his time with whatever girl he was screwing that month. But that was bound to happen. He’d always been a player, and girls had always thought he was handsome. He was tall with messy gold hair. But he was still Butters’ best friend. It was normal for best friends to get less and less time together as they get older.
“Oh, sorry,” said Butters.
“N-now that you’re out of your F-Fallujah flashback…” Jimmy joked. Butters barely heard Jimmy, but he was sure it must’ve been funny, so he chuckled.
“We were asking if you were going to Heidi’s for Halloween,” said Craig. Normally, Craig and his friends wouldn’t be here, but it was Stan’s birthday. Everyone likes Stan.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am.” Butters actually hadn’t thought about it. He had forgotten Halloween was coming up. It used to be his favorite holiday. He always liked wearing costumes. Usually, he would make up his own characters. His mom always said he had a great imagination. At one point, he even had a sewing machine. It was probably somewhere in the attic now. Maybe he was changing. No, certainly not. Halloween was changing. He hadn’t even come up with a Halloween plan yet.
But if everyone was going to Heidi’s, he must be going to Heidi’s. If that was what his friends were doing, that was what he was doing, of course. “What are you fellas going as?”
“Tweek and I are-” Craig started, before Tweek butted in, shouting, “It’s a surprise!”
“It’s a surprise,” said Craig.
Eric coughed, mumbling “dick-and-a-butthole,” under his breath.
“We are not going as a dick and a butthole. Fatass.”
Tweek laughed. It felt weird when the other boys ran off with their girlfriends, but Butters never felt that way about Craig and Tweek. Maybe because Tweek was a boy, so they still hung out with the other boys. Or maybe because they’d been dating for so long. But so had Stan and Wendy.
On the far end of the table, Wendy skipped back and sat down next to Stan, smirking. Wendy was beautiful. The bright pink fountain light was playing with her black hair. She was in a really pretty purple dress made of sweater fabric. Butters often thought about how incredibly different her life must be from the boys. Like a different animal. But he looked away. Butters liked Wendy just fine, even if she was standoffish. He didn’t mind her being here. But it was another reminder that this was a fluke. They’d go back to school to their separate lunch tables, their separate friends, their separate girlfriends.
“Why? What are you going-” Craig started, but he was interrupted by a screaming trumpet as a full mariachi band surrounded the table. Butters clenched his teeth and curled his toes.
“Wendy, come on, I specifically asked you-” Stan said as the band bellowed an energetic rendition of “Feliz Cumpleaños.” He leaned over to kiss her. Butters looked away and poked at the last of his enchiladas, too full for another bite.
“Are you done with that?” Kenny asked.
“Oh, sure Kenny. Have as much as you want.” Butters passed over his plate. Kenny hadn’t eaten much, just a single taco. And a lot of the free chips and salsa.
The waitress brought out two plates of sopapillas for the table.
“Fuck yes,” Eric shouted, as he shoveled them onto his plate.
By the time Butters was able to get through the hands, there was just one fragment of a sopapilla left. Butters took it cautiously and ran his knuckles together for a second before eating it in one small bite.
“Here dude.” Kenny casually tossed one of his two sopapillas onto Butters’ plate, then went back to whatever he was talking about with Tolkien. It tasted sickly sweet, and for a couple of seconds it felt quieter.
Butters wanted Craig to finish his sentence. “Why? What are you going as for Halloween?” But Craig had started some other conversation with Clyde and Jimmy that Butters was only catching pieces of over the din of words and waterfalls and mariachi that was rising again. And Butters didn’t even have an answer to the question he wanted Craig to ask.
While everyone else talked with someone, conversations he couldn’t quite penetrate, Butters finished Kenny’s sopapilla, and his eyes turned to the dancers up on the cliffside. More beautiful women. But these ones were meant to be watched, so he watched. Something about them helped him tune everything else out.
Everyone finished, and checks were passed around. Butters paid his check and left a little extra tip. The party all got up and shuffled towards the arcade, past cliff divers and fountains and trees and lights. He didn’t remember this place being so overwhelming when he was a kid. He lingered behind the rest of the group, walking slowly, eyes on the faux-rainforest themed ceiling. The group dissolved as pairs and trios split off.
“Butters, Kenny, come on!” Stan shouted as he made his way to Black Bart’s Cave, flanked by Wendy and Kyle. Stan was still a good friend, even if he wasn’t around a lot. He and Wendy disappeared into the cave, Kyle straggling behind.
Kenny grabbed his arm and pulled him along. “Come on, dude.”
Butters hesitated for a second. Black Bart’s Cave used to scare him so bad. He had a recurring nightmare about it after his first time here. The skeleton was crawling after him on all fours, while the cave got smaller and smaller until he had to crawl on his belly. Sometimes the skeleton would turn into his dad.
“Okay! I’m coming!” He and Kenny ran.
The two of them entered the cave together, but this time it felt different. After a few steps, he could barely hear the brass instruments and fountains and screaming patrons. And there weren’t a dozen colored lights pointed at his eyes.
“Boy, I remember it being so much scarier,” Butters said as he stumbled upon the skeleton, presumably Bart, guarding his treasure.
“Yeah man,” Stan shouted from up front, “And longer. Was that the whole thing?”
Sure enough, Butters could already see the end. Stan, Wendy, and Kyle made their way out. But Butters just stared at Black Bart.
“Hey Butters, you good? You’re acting weird.” Kenny was still smiling, but it felt different. He never asked about Butters’ feelings, or anyone’s feelings, as far as Butters was aware. Did Butters really seem that down in the dumps?
“Oh, sure, I’m fine. It’s just, really nostalgic is all.” That was what he was feeling, right? It was hard to say. For the last few years, it had been like he was watching himself in a video game. But that wasn’t bad. He’d been happy. He was happy today.
“Yeah, it’s fucking weird,” Kenny agreed. He opened his mouth like he had more to say, but didn’t. Butters had to look up at Kenny, at his freckles and the scar along his jaw. Butters had a scar on his face, too. He had forgotten for a second.
They quietly made their way through the cave to the light, where they saw the last stragglers of the party trailing into the arcade. At least all but Stan and Wendy, who were in line to get their pictures taken in cowboy outfits.
Everything else may have felt smaller, but Loco Luis’ Video Game Villa still felt huge. Kenny made a beeline for Vomit Cop, while Eric waited behind Clyde to play Thirst for Blood. Butters wandered around alone, eventually settling on Fish Quest.
He was always great at Fish Quest as a kid. It was easy. One button. You just pressed to make your unicorn jump, and you didn’t press to make your unicorn fall. You flew through the gaps and avoided the obstacles. Easy.
His unicorn started flying, and it just kept going. Minutes passed. This game was only hard if you stopped and thought about it. As long as you didn't think about it, you just zoned out and let it happen, your fingers would know what to do. Butters wasn’t thinking about how much time had passed, but it had been a while. Kenny and Tolkien wandered over to watch.
“Butters, quit hogging the game!” Eric was right behind him. “We’re all waiting in line!” How long had it been?
“Shut the fuck up, Cartman; he’s gonna set a high score,” Kenny said.
Butters didn’t really hear. He let the nineties Europop ballad streaming out of the machine drown it out.
“Butters, don’t be such a fag!” Eric shouted. This time, Butters’ concentration broke, only for a second, but that was enough. His unicorn slammed into the cliffside and fell.
61783, the screen blinked. It only goes to 99,999. Butters pressed the buttons to select L, then B, then S. Second place in the history of the machine. That was pretty good. As a kid, he never got better than 15,000.
“Nice going, asshole,” Tolkien said.
“I didn’t make him do that.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Butters said, “that’s my highest score.” Between the noisy restaurant and the sopapilla, Butters wanted to sit down. Plus, he was a little dazed from however long that Nineties song had been playing on repeat. Fifteen minutes? Twenty minutes?
“See. Whatever. My turn.” Eric cut in front of Butters and put in his quarters. Butters found a bench in the middle of the room and pulled out his phone. It was almost ten. He hoped he’d be back from Denver by eleven for his curfew, but he doubted it.
Stan and Wendy were over at the skee ball, taking turns. Kenny was taking out targets in the El Chupacabra shooting gallery. Craig was buying Tweek a little stuffed penguin at the ticket rewards station. Butters’ eyes wandered up to the top row, where a giant Hello Kitty plushie dressed in a unicorn onesie was sitting. How many tickets did that cost?
He hadn’t grabbed his tickets after his game. He’d been too distracted by Eric interrupting him and the noise and crowd. Maybe he had been a little out of it today, but right now he was determined. He needed that Hello Kitty plushie.
“Eric?” Butters said, marching up to the game. “I need my tickets.”
“Oh gosh, Butters. I see. Well, how am I supposed to tell which tickets are yours?”
“Well uh, maybe we could split these in half?”
“I don’t know Butters. I played a lot of rounds. That doesn’t seem fair.” Eric was doing that innocent voice he did. That may have worked on Butters when he was little, but he could see through it now. Still, he didn’t want to fight with Eric. That never ends up well.
“Well, how about you just give me 500. That’s how much the thing I want costs.”
“What thing?” Eric asked innocently.
By this point, some of the boys overheard the argument. Kenny walked over first, but Stan and Wendy soon followed.
“Umm, well-” Butters wasn’t sure how to wiggle out of this one. He just wanted his tickets. He could always play again, but what if he didn’t do as well?
Then an idea hit him. Maybe he didn’t have to be as good as he was last time. Just better than Eric.
“How about we each play again, and whoever scores higher gets to keep all the tickets.”
“What are you, ten? It’s just tickets, you dildo.”
“Don’t be a pussy, Cartman,” Kenny said.
“Yeah,” Butters echoed, letting himself get swept up in the moment, “are you chicken?” Butters felt a chill the second he said it. Maybe that was a mistake. Eric was smarter than him. More of the boys circled up: Kyle, then Craig and Tweek.
“Shut up!” Eric shouted as Clyde, Tolkien, and Jimmy walked up. All eyes were on him. “I’ll take your bet, you little fudge packer. And you know what? Let’s make it interesting. How ‘bout this? Whoever wins gets the tickets, but… whoever loses has to wear whatever the winner picks to Heidi’s Halloween party!”
It was quiet for a bit. Kenny and Stan shared a look before letting out an awkward little laugh. Eric had a look on his face like he was about to do something terrible. But whatever. He’ll be easy to beat.
“Fine by me,” said Butters. “Am I first?”
“F-fellas,” Jimmy chimed in, “I’m gonna f-flip this coin. Butters, y-your heads. C-Cartman is tails.” Jimmy flipped the coin and let it fall to the ground. “T-tails it is.”
Something about this felt nice. It felt homey, even with Eric being a jerk. Obsessing over little things. All the boys in it together, everybody invested. Some childish part of Butters really wanted that plushie, but the grown-up part of Butters was glad to have the attention of all his friends.
Eric stepped up to the machine and put in a quarter, and his unicorn took off. Butters didn’t even really watch the screen; he let the Europop fill his head. He knew what he needed to do: clear his mind. No thoughts, just blank. Like meditating. The song looped over, then looped over again. Eric must really be trying.
“Oh god-fucking-dammit!” Eric shouted as his unicorn fell from the cliff face into the chasm.
18643, the screen lit up. That was pretty good.
“Try to beat that, queefbreather,” Eric whispered.
This was his last quarter.
“C’mon, you got this man,” Stan assured him.
“Kick his fat ass, Butters!” Kyle echoed.
Butters tuned it all out and stared at the screen. He was already in the mindset; he had been letting the song suffocate all his thoughts. His unicorn jumped up, and the game was on. He flew steadily, face still, eyes never moving. The crowd may have been cheering; he couldn’t tell. High, low, dash through the obstacle, low, low, high, low, dash. He was like a machine. This was the only thing in the world right now.
Eric taunted him, but Butters didn’t even hear the words. Low, high, high. Eric wasn’t here. The crowd wasn’t here. It was just the game. The song was about to finish its second cycle when Eric heckled him again, this time quieter.
“You don’t stand a chance, asslicker.” Focus. Focus. Ignore him. Ignore all of them. No thoughts. Just the game. High. Low. High.
Then, finally, just a whisper. An intimate and cruel whisper. “I can’t wait to show everyone what a homo you are, maybe I’ll make you wear some faggy little makeup, or maybe a faggy little dress.”
Butters swallowed and tried to refocus on the game. Something about how Eric was whispering to him felt violating, but he wasn’t sure why.
“Cartman, back the fuck up!” Kenny shouted.
“Fine, fine,” Eric muttered, and Butters stopped feeling his opponent’s shadow over his shoulder.
But his words were still right outside of Butters’ ear. His breath got caught when Eric mentioned a dress. What was that about? I mean, sure, the thought had crossed Butters’ mind. How would he look in a dress? Would he be pretty as a girl? But that thought crossed every guy’s mind. It was a normal thing to think about. He thought about it a lot, like anyone.
But he wasn’t supposed to get excited thinking about it. Curious, sure, but not excited. So why was his heart beating faster? And why was his forehead getting sweaty?
Butters’ mind was going a mile a minute. He remembered the first time he saw that episode of “Boy Meets World.” The one where Shawn dresses as a girl for the newspaper. He watched pieces of that episode on Youtube ten more times that week. He remembered scrolling past “Tootsie,” and “Sorority Boys,” and “Some Like It Hot” while trying to pick a movie, but being afraid to ask to watch them in front of his parents. He remembered hundreds of TikTok searches that he would do late at night and then delete from his history while he was supposed to be sleeping.
And then the song stopped. His unicorn rammed right into the cliffside.
14319, the screen flashed.
“Whoah dude, what happened?” Stan said.
“Cartman was fucking with his head, that’s what happened!” Kenny shouted
“Am I not allowed to talk to my friend Butters?” Eric asked, taunting. “Did we say that was against the rules? No? Cool then. I’m going to grab my tickets and buy my Casa Bonita sweatpants.”
Everything got fuzzy; he was still trying to wrap his head around exactly what happened. Did he get lost in his memories and zone out? Or did he hit that wall on purpose? No, he wouldn’t have hit it on purpose.
“Butters, dude, ignore Cartman,” Kenny said.
“Yeah dude, nobody cares about this stupid bet,” Stan added. “Cartman cheated. You don’t have to go along with whatever fucked up thing he has planned.”
A slight chill came over Butters as he turned around. It was the same kind of chill he felt every time his parents left the house, or every time he locked a door. Like a jolt of freedom shooting up his spine. It was a freedom he never really acted on. He never did anything different because he was alone. But he could’ve, that was the important part.
The arcade didn’t seem so loud right now; the lights didn’t seem so bright. He couldn’t even hear the waterfall anymore. He wasn’t underwater. This Halloween, he was going to do something different, whether he was ready or not.
“It’s fine, fellas. Whatever it is, I can take it.”