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Summary
As Leo skipped back inside Walmart, the butt of the shotgun carelessly bouncing against his thigh, Stan stayed behind, looking at the streets. At the zombies. None of them moved, of course. Snow days in South Park were not as fun and forgiving as they used to be when they were children. But they were still here. Frozen in place like old monoliths. Monuments of a life he often feared he was cursed to remember. He could only be relieved he did not recognize them.
It would have been easier to forget. Forget that there had been something worth living for, before the Weirdness. Like Cartman seemingly had done, gleefully so. Ah, but when had Stan’s brain ever agreed with him?
(The end of the world had started in South Park. Because of course it had.)