Chapter Text
Matt laid on the couch, leg propped on his knee, a book in his face hovering over his nose. He was deep in his reading, barely registering the background noise he’d put on tv, but he finally glanced aside to look at the clock on the wall. 7:57 pm.
He sighed.
Tomorrow it was all back on, all over again. He put the book down and pulled out his phone, doom scrolling the news one final time for the evening before forcing himself right side up on the cushions. The world sucked. The Epstein files sucked. The weather sucked. The cock teases for World War III sucked. The president REALLY sucked. But hey, at least tomorrow, exhausting as it may be, he’d be back at the studio, finding a way to laugh through all of it.
And that really was the beauty of South Park. The gift of finding joy in life again, coupled with the weird masochistic side of him that loved overworking himself to exhaustion followed by the high of accomplishment. (And the money they got for it was okay too). And really, he was truly grateful for Trey. If it weren’t for his unstoppable mind and creativity, and natural annoying director soul, South Park probably would’ve been long over by now. He had no problem admitting that. He smiled to himself. Just like Trey had no problem admitting Matt was an absolute essential to the team that was Parker & Stone.
He put his phone away and focused on the television screen, sipping his wine. The South Park: Post Covid special was on. He chuckled to himself as the scene played out, Kyle growing absolutely furious for no reason at Cartman’s happy life and marriage. Felt good to him, knowing that he would be in the spirit of writing for their goofy show again in no time. He sipped some more wine, then smiled to himself as he held the drink on his tongue. This would go great with some weed.
He kept his eyes on the tv as much as possible while he dug out those special birthday gummies Trey gave him from the dresser drawer. He rushed back to the couch and popped 2 in his mouth. Interesting flavor. The show continued on. He laughed to himself as the scene where Kyle had to listen to Cartman fuck his wife in his own house played on. He laughed and he laughed… and then the room started spinning.
He continued laughing, (he thought?) but however many minutes were ticking on, he couldn’t really comprehend what was happening anymore. He saw images of grown up Stan moving before him, drinking, yelling, belly out, grumbling, and then- visions of Trey…
Visions of Trey with blond hair, Trey with a scruffy gray beard, Trey with a mullet, Trey with a crepe hair beard, Trey in spandex that hugged his tone, Trey in a dress that showed his whole front half, Trey high as fuckin balls on acid, Trey low as a California sinkhole from heartbreak, Trey skinny and sweating on stage, Trey chubby and sweating on stage, Trey grumbling in Casa Bonita, Trey swooning in Casa Bonita, Trey laughing at his own jokes, Trey crying during Les Mis, Trey doing the 6 7 meme, Trey showing off his young hairy chest to a camera, Trey in a swim suit, Trey in a winter coat, Trey kissing him and shyly resisting tongue, Trey pulling away from a tender kiss on the cheek, Trey calling him a fag, Trey saying “Fuck you, man” when Matt bailed on a talk show they were meant to go on together, Trey saying “Happy Anniversary man… And I love you.” at the concert, Trey drunk, Trey sober, Trey sleeping, Trey blushing, Trey, Trey, Trey, Trey, Trey fucking Parker…
The next morning, before his alarm even went off, Matt awoke from his pillow, feeling as though the room must still be spinning even though it was pitch dark and still night outside. He moved, moaning quietly, and clumsily reached out for his phone to check what time it was. 2:45 am. Fuck, man… he tried to sit up, holding his head in his palm, careful not to disturb his wife, and realized something felt weird. He stuck the phone under the covers and turned up the brightness slightly.
“Oh, shit…”
He blushed, grateful it was too dark to see, and glanced beside him to make sure he was alone in the waking world right now. His pants were a sticky white mess. What did he dream about? He didn’t dream of her, that he can recall. The last thing he remembered was just watching South Park, digesting the literature he read, and eating a couple of gift gummies from Trey-
He furrowed his brow.
Less than 48 hours later, Matt was back at South Park studios. Today was all about brainstorming and laughing, literally to create nothing but good feelings and new ideas for new shows. And he was always professional about that, but for some reason, it was hard not to continually think back to their Post Covid specials. Why? He couldn’t say. Maybe it was just because he rewatched them while tripping balls the other night, but there was something about them that was really nagging at him ever since. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten what happened in the episodes, he remembered them well. What nagged him was the sense that there was something else going on in them that he didn’t see before. Something he couldn’t recall from when they were written. He knew this wasn’t the time to be thinking about old episodes, so he tried his best to silence the thoughts. But every time he looked at Trey that day, the thoughts just kept nagging at him…
“By the way dude, I had some of those gummies you gave me for my birthday?”
“And?”
“What the fuck is in those? I tripped so hard, I still can't think straight!”
“A little Trey Parker Magic.” He said coyly with a wink.
Matt smirked. “Fuck you. A little tegridy?”
“Some of it.” Trey mused.
Hours passed, and it was well into the evening, around 9pm LA time.
Matt thought back to what Trey said about that “birthday special” and really wished he'd had more of a warning before he took those gummies so casually the night before. The crazy trip was really irritating him. He hated being so distracted. It was never a good feeling to have so little to say in the writer's room, that was where he needed to really bring it. And he did not intend to go home this early in the evening without contributing more than that.
Given that he couldn't think straight without figuring out his problem though, he decided to step out, drink his coffee, and play the special again on his phone to try and jog a memory.
He leaned on a railing outside and sipped his brew. Post Covid was a really good special, he thought. The irony of Stan being detached and Kyle being overly attached was solid. The irony of Cartman being happily married to a Jewish woman while Kyle was stuck being alone was awesome. The resentment Kyle felt about the whole situation was solid. Watching Kyle and Cartman finally fight each other was solid. Everything about this episode was solid.
So why did it bother the ever loving shit out of him after last night? It was like something in here was screaming at him but he just couldn't figure out what. Matt wasn't angry in real life like Kyle. Why did it seem like he should be? Something about this wasn't logical. It was like a math problem where the answer was right but the equation was all wrong somehow. The scene where Kyle was angry at Cartman for having sex with his wife was somewhat reminiscent of something that happened on a trip they'd taken in real life, but he wasn't angry about that…
Suddenly something clicked. Suddenly, the backwards nature of everything made perfect fucking sense. And not in a good way. And now, suddenly, he felt he needed to have a little talk with his old pal Trey Parker…