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I’m Kyle Broflovski, and I’m just trying to take a shit in peace, but nooo, my fucking best friend has to ruin it by screwing his boyfriend in the next stall. The goddamn walls in the South Park High bathroom are so thin you can hear every moan, every whisper, every slap—Jesus Christ, it’s like they’re putting on a live porno.
I bang my fist against the stall wall, hard enough to make it rattle. “Yo, Stan! Craig! Can you two not fuck somewhere else? I’m trying to take a crap in peace here!”
There’s a pause, a muffled grunt, and then Stan’s voice, all flustered and fake-innocent. “Uh, what? Dude, it’s just me in here! I’m, um, uh, jerking off! Yeah, watching porn on my phone and jerking off!”
I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t pop out of my skull. “You think I’m fucking stupid, Stan? I can see Craig’s dumbass Converse under the stall gap, you moron!”
Another pause, then Craig’s low, deadpan voice cuts through. “Tch. Chill, Broflovski. Not my fault these stalls are built like paper.”
“Paper?! You’re banging so loud it’s like you’re trying to drill through the goddamn wall!” I snap, pinching the bridge of my nose. I swear, I just wanted five minutes to myself, but no, I’m stuck listening to Stan and Craig turning the bathroom into their personal sex dungeon.
“Dude, relax,” Stan says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice, the bastard. “You’re acting like you’ve never heard two guys going at it before.”
“I’m trying to take a crap, Stan! I don’t need a front-row seat to you sticking your dick in Craig’s ass!” I yell, loud enough that I’m pretty sure the whole bathroom echoes.
From the other side of the bathroom, I hear a familiar snicker. Fucking Cartman. Of course he’s here. “Heh heh, Kyle’s jealous ‘cause he’s not getting any,” he calls out, his voice dripping with that smug, asshole tone he’s perfected over the years. “What’s wrong, Jew? Mad ‘cause Stan’s plowing Craig instead of you?”
“Shut the fuck up, Cartman!” I shout, slamming my hand against the stall again. “At least I’m not a fatass who gets off on eavesdropping!”
“Eyyy, I’m just here to take a piss, Kahl,” Cartman says, and I can hear him zipping up his pants at the sink. “Not my fault your bestie’s turning Craig into his personal bitch.”
Craig’s voice cuts in, dry as ever. “Call me that again, Cartman, and I’ll shove your head in the toilet.”
“Pfft, you’re too busy getting railed to do shit, Tucker,” Cartman fires back, cackling as he heads for the door. “Have fun, you homo hobos!”
The door slams shut, and I groan, rubbing my temples. This is hell. Actual hell. I hear a shuffle from the next stall, then Stan muttering something to Craig, too low for me to catch. Probably some sappy bullshit, knowing Stan. Those two have been glued at the hip since they started dating last year, and it’s fucking unbearable sometimes. Like, good for them, I guess, but do they have to screw everywhere?
“Seriously, you guys,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “Can you at least wait ‘til I’m done? I’m begging you.”
“Fine, fine,” Stan says, and I hear the rustle of clothes, like they’re actually stopping. Thank God. “We’ll, uh, take it somewhere else.”
“Yeah, like your mom’s bedroom,” Craig deadpans, and I can’t help but snort. Dude’s got a mouth on him, I’ll give him that.
“Fuck you, Craig,” Stan says, but there’s no heat in it. I hear the stall door creak open, and then the sound of their shoes—Stan’s beat-up Nikes and Craig’s stupid Converse—shuffling out.
“Later, Kyle,” Stan calls, and I can hear the grin in his voice. “Enjoy your shit.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, but they’re already gone. Finally, some peace. I lean back, trying to salvage what’s left of my dignity, when the bathroom door swings open again.
“Yo, Kyle!” It’s Clyde’s voice, loud and clueless as always. “Dude, you’ll never guess what I just saw! Stan and Craig were, like, totally making out in the hallway! It was gross, man!”
I groan, louder this time. “Clyde, I don’t give a shit! I’m trying to take a dump here!”
“Jeez, fine, Mr. Grumpy,” Clyde says, and I hear him turn on the sink, probably checking his hair in the mirror like the vain idiot he is. “Oh, by the way, Token and Jimmy are waiting outside. We’re all grabbing burgers later. You in?”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose again. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just get the hell out.”
“Cool, cool!” Clyde says, way too chipper.
“Just go, Clyde.”
“Alright, alright, I’m going!” Clyde says, and I hear the door swing shut again.
Finally, silence. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and try to focus. Fucking South Park High. Fucking thin-ass walls and Fuck my life.