Isn’t that what little girls have?
Stan sighed, and tucked his hands underneath his head. Maybe so, but here he was having one right now. Though, none of them really called it a sleepover. It was a get-together. A party, maybe. ...Nah, scratch that last one. A party was supposed to be exciting and fun. This, however, was not. Cartman had suggested the idea, insisting on them spending the night at his house on Friday. None of them had anything better to do, and it was pointless to argue with Cartman, so they agreed. Now here they were, duffel bags carelessly dropped in one corner of the room, basking in the uncomfortable silence. The most excitement they’d had all night was when Kenny showed them some…questionable magazines he’d brought with him (Stan had gone beet red, and proceeded to one of them at Kenny’s head).
Finally, unable to take it any longer, Stan sat up with a frustrated sigh. “Cartman, did you actually have anything planned for tonight, or did you just want us to come over here, and waste our time?”
Cartman looked up from his Nintendo, and raised an eyebrow at Stan questioningly. “I thought we were just enjoying the silence, dude,” he said plainly.
“Well, I’ve had enough silence to last me the rest of the night. Come on, let’s do something before I die of boredom!” Stan insisted, flopping back onto the air mattress.
Kyle, who had been quietly reading for a good portion of the evening, closed his book, and turned towards Stan. “Didn’t you bring anything to do?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Kenny said, his voice muffled by his ever-present parka. “How did you expect to stay entertained?” He had been looking at the previously mentioned magazines with unmatched fascination.
“I thought we were actually going to do stuff together. You know, what people usually do at things like this?” Stan answered in a flat tone.
“I have an idea!” Cartman announced.
Stan sat back up again. Cartman had gotten that familiar expression, the one that meant he was up to no good. An expression Stan knew all too well. But, he had nothing else to do, so he asked, “What?”
“Hold on, let me go get it!” Cartman quickly set down the Nintendo, and opened his closet.
The three boys exchanged glances as Cartman rummaged about, until…
“A-HA!” Cartman exclaimed, and stepped back from his closet, a huge grin on his face. “I found it!” In his hands, there was a top-hat.
“...A hat?” Kenny questioned.
“Not just any hat, a Dare Hat!”
“Dude, what’s a Dare Hat?” Kyle asked, looking at said hat suspiciously.
“A hat filled with dares!” Cartman explained, reaching into the hat, and pulling out a handful of paper slips. “You use it to play a game! It’s called I Dare You! It’s pretty much Truth or Dare, but without the truths.”
“Why’s that?” Stan asked.
“Because those are lame.” Cartman gave Stan a deadpan look, and dropped the slips back inside the hat. “We each take turns picking a dare, and we have to decide how many points it’s worth. Whoever gets ten points first wins. If you’re really being a pussy, you can not do the dare, but that means someone else can take it from you.”
“What happens when one of us wins?” Stan asked.
“The winner gets a prize!” Cartman exclaimed, before sitting down on the floor, and placing the hat in front of him. “So, you guys in?”
The other three exchanged glances again, before shrugging, and sitting in a circle on the floor by Cartman. How bad could it be?
“Yes!” Cartman cheered, before grabbing the hat. “I’ll go first!”
“Wait, how come you get to go first?” Kyle asked.
“Because I said so,” Cartman replied.
Kyle rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything else.
Cartman pulled out a slip of paper. “Crack an egg on your head.”
There was some slight giggling.
“I’d give him three,” Kenny said.
“Two and a half,” Stan offered.
“Point five,” Kyle said with a completely straight face.
“POINT FIVE?! FOR CRACKING AN EGG ON MY HEAD?!” Cartman shouted, making Kyle giggle. “I’ll do it for two and a half!”
“Alright!” Stan said, clapping his hands and standing up. “Let’s do this!”
All four of the boys went downstairs, and into the kitchen. Cartman opened the refrigerator, and pulled out the egg carton, making sure to select the best looking egg. Then, without any warning, he smashed it against the top of his head.
A chorus of gasps and cheers filled the room.
Cartman looked at his hand, and flung the bits of egg and small pieces of eggshell off of his fingertips and onto the floor. “Ugh!” He groaned in disgust. “Dude, it feels like fucking jizz!” He quickly ran to the sink, and began rinsing his hair.
This only prompted laughter from the other three boys.
Once Cartman’s hair was free of egg and eggshell, the boys returned to his room, and sat back down. “Worth it!” Cartman said, before picking up the hat, and holding it out to Kenny. “Kenny, it’s your turn!”
Kenny waited a moment, before he took the hat, and pulled out a paper slip. “Attempt a backflip,” he read.
The boys exchanged nervous glances.
“Six,” Kyle said.
“Five and a half,” Cartman said.
“I agree with Cartman,” Stan said.
“I’ll do it for five and a half,” Kenny said.
“Okay, but… Where are you going to do it?” Kyle asked.
Kenny pointed to the air mattress. Then, he quickly got up, and took his position, obviously wanting to get this over with. He didn’t do anything for a few moments, before finally saying, “Give me a count down.”
“Okay… Three!” Stan started.
“Two!” Kyle continued.
“Just fucking do it already!” Cartman shouted.
Kenny’s legs pushed up, and he was sent into the air, turning over just slightly, and… FLOP! Kenny landed on the mattress face first.
The group hissed in sympathetic pain. “Dude, are you okay?” Kyle asked, concern coloring his voice.
“I’m good!” Kenny confirmed, flashing a thumbs up.
“Well, since it said attempt a backflip, not do a backflip… Five and a half points for Kenny!” Stan cheered.
“Aw, sweet!” Kenny got up and fist pumped the air. “Remind me to jump a little higher next time!”
Cartman rolled his eyes. “Stan, it’s your turn!”
Stan took the hat from Kenny and pulled out a slip of paper. “Tie string to your wrists, and let somebody puppeteer you,” he read.
“...Where do you even get these ideas, dude?” Stan asked Cartman, shaking his head.
“Come on, that’s a good one!” Cartman whined. “I’d say you get two points.”
“I say three,” Kyle said.
“Two and a half,” Kenny said.
“Fine, two and a half sounds good,” Stan decided. Just then, something hit him on the side of his head. “Ow!” He looked down, and noticed it was a ball of string. He glared at Cartman, who was smirking.
“I get to puppeteer you!” He announced.
Stan grumbled, but didn’t say anything back.
Cartman immediately got to work, cutting off two long pieces of string, and tying them around Stan’s wrists. He stood up, and took a moment to admire his handiwork. “Alright, get up,” he ordered.
Cartman took the ends of the pieces of string in his hands, and began to move them around. As he did so, Stan’s arms were forced to move as well. He began walking from one side of the room to the other, dragging Stan along with him. A few minutes later, he stopped, and dropped the strings. “It was cooler in my head,” he grumbled, sitting back down, and cutting the string off of Stan’s wrists.
“As long as I got my points,” Stan mumbled, rubbing his wrists. He picked up the hat, and offered it to Kyle. “Your turn,” he said.
Kyle tentatively took the hat and reached inside, pulling out his slip of paper. “Slide down the railing of the stairs,” he read.
“Yes!” Cartman cheered. “I get to see you in pain!”
Kyle socked him on the shoulder.
“I say he gets six,” Stan said.
“Five,” Kenny said.
“I say five… But, if he falls off the railing, zero!” Cartman declared.
“You’re on!” Kyle shouted, walking towards the stairs.
The boys cheered, and turned to watch.
Kyle walked to the top of the stairs, and sat on the railing. Then, he pushed himself off, sliding all the way down with ease. He jumped off, and smirked triumphantly. “Five points!”
“Oh you son of a bitch, you got so lucky!” Cartman shouted, crossing his arms.
Kyle just tossed him the hat as everybody sat back down.
Cartman caught it, still fuming. He reached in, and pulled out a piece of paper, reading it to himself first. His face went pale.
“What does it say?” Kyle asked, just now walking back into the room.
“...Eat a ball of wasabi,” Cartman read quietly.
It was so quiet, you could’ve heard a pin drop.
“Seven points,” Kenny said.
“Six points,” Stan said.
“Six points,” Kyle said.
“...Alright, I’ll do it for six!” Cartman exclaimed. “I’m not a pussy!”
The boys got up, and moved to the kitchen once again. After a few minutes of rummaging around, Cartman found the wasabi in the fridge. He squirted some onto a spoon, and quickly shoved it into his mouth.
The other three boys cringed.
Cartman slowly set down the spoon, and turned away from the three.
“...Does it burn?” Stan asked.
A fist pounding on the counter was enough of an answer for him.
A few minutes (and a lot more pounding) later, Cartman finally turned around again. “...I did it,” he said in a hoarse voice.
The boys all cheered.
“As for this,” Cartman began, turning towards the tube of wasabi on the counter, “GET THIS OUTTA MY SIGHT!” He shouted, chucking it across the room.
Kyle burst out laughing.
Once the boys had returned downstairs, Cartman passed Kenny the hat. “Your turn,” he said, voice still a little bit scratchy, his hands massaging his chest.
“...Why are you rubbing your chest like that?” Kenny asked.
“Because it’s burning!” Cartman rasped.
Kenny shuddered, reaching inside the hat and pulling out a slip of paper. “Eat a jalapeño pepper,” he read. He looked at Cartman again. “Naw, I think I’m gonna pass on this one,” he announced.
“Why?” Stan asked.
“I already can’t handle spicy stuff,” Kenny explained. “And after seeing what Cartman’s going through… No thanks.”
“Are you kidding me, man, that shit’s nothing compared to the wasabi!” Cartman shouted. “And besides, I’m probably gonna win now!”
“So, it was worth it, then?” Kenny asked.
Kenny gave Cartman a deadpan expression.
“I say he gets four points if he does it,” Kyle said.
“Me too,” Stan agreed.
“I say he gets three,” Cartman said.
“...Fine, I’ll do it for four,” Kenny caved.
And the boys were back in the kitchen.
Unlike the wasabi, Cartman found the jalapeño pepper quickly, and pulled it out of the fridge. He handed it to Kenny. “Enjoy!”
Kenny glared at him, but popped the pepper into his mouth, minding his parka. His hands curled into tight fists, and his eyes squeezed shut.
“Feelin’ the burn?” Stan questioned.
Kenny nodded, one hand coming up to fan at his mouth. A few minutes later, he sighed in relief. “Did it,” he announced. “I need some water after that.”
After Kenny had been sufficiently hydrated, the boys went back downstairs. “Stan, you’re up,” Kenny said, handing over the hat.
Stan took it, shaking it slightly to mix up the slips. He then reached in, and retrieved one. “Do a handstand for at least thirty seconds,” he read.
“Four,” Kenny offered.
“Three,” Kyle said.
“Four if he does it, zero if he doesn’t,” Cartman said.
“You’re on!” Stan grinned, standing up. “I’ll do it against this wall.”
“I’ll time you,” Kyle said, taking out his phone to use as a timer.
Stan nodded, pushing himself onto his hands. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t last fifteen seconds before he fell forward onto the floor.
All the boys (excluding Stan) laughed.
“Shut up!” Stan yelled, blushing brightly as he moved back to his spot. He threw the hat to Kyle.
Kyle snickered one last time, before taking out a slip of paper, and reading it to himself. His face grew significantly paler.
“What’s it say?” Kenny asked, leaning over and trying to see.
“It… It must be a mistake,” Kyle said, handing the piece of paper to Cartman.
Cartman looked it over, and smirked deviously. “Nope, that’s what it’s supposed to say!” He exclaimed, giving the paper back.
“Dude, what does it say?” Stan asked.
“...Have everyone in the group tickle you for at least one minute,” Kyle mumbled.
Everyone was quiet.
“No, I’m passing this one,” Kyle announced.
“Oh, come on! Are you too much of a pussy to handle a little tickling?!” Cartman scoffed. “Girls do this all the time!”
“Yeah dude, it’s not that bad,” Kenny agreed.
“Would you do it for the win?” Stan asked.
“It wouldn’t even work! I’m not even ticklish!” Kyle exclaimed.
“...Dude. You really expect us to believe that after that reaction?” Cartman said flatly.
“Shut up!” Kyle yelled, punching Cartman on the shoulder, his cheeks bright red.
Cartman just laughed.
“...Fine, I’ll do it,” Kyle grumbled. “But only for the win!”
“Alright!” Cartman cheered. “Now, lie down and put your arms above your head.”
Kyle glared, but did so.
“I’ll time you,” Stan said, getting out his own phone.
“This sucks,” Kyle grumbled.
“Relax, it’s not like we’re gonna kill you!” Kenny exclaimed.
“Alright, your time starts...Now!” Stan yelled.
Kyle immediately shrieked as fingers dug into his armpits, and his arms snapped down reflexively. Unfortunately for him, they were immediately tugged back up, and pinned down by a massive weight that could only be Cartman. Laughter began bubbling past his lips, and he squirmed around. “O-ohoho myhyhy Gahahad! Stahahap!”
“Dude, you’ve been going for less than ten seconds,” Stan said, chuckling to himself. His fingers started to idly poke at Kyle’s ribs and side, making the other twitch.
Kyle was really beginning to regret his decision, and he tried to squirm away. “P-plehehehease! Ahahahaha!”
“Aw, look. He’s begging,” Cartman teased, finding this entire situation to be immensely entertaining.
“Sh-shahahat uhuhuhup!” Kyle tried to yell, but his helpless giggling ruined it. His cheeks felt hot, and he could tell his blush had darkened. He could feel his shirt being tugged up, and then somebody’s fingers digging into his stomach. He let out a screech that sounded like it belonged to a bird instead of a human, and began thrashing as much as he could.
All three of the ticklers flinched in surprise. Kenny, who was the one to start on the belly, let out a thoughtful hum, and he stuck a finger in Kyle’s navel.
“Dude, I think you found his sweet spot!” Stan said incredulously.
Cartman was too busy cackling in amusement to join the conversation.
Kyle was in hysterics. His entire body was shaking, and he kicked his legs fruitlessly. He squealed as he felt something wet and warm trail over his stomach. “K-KENNY!” He shouted. “W-wahas thahat yohour tohohohongue?!” He managed to look up enough to see Kenny tugging his parka back over his mouth, a smile lighting up his eyes.
It felt like years before Kyle finally heard the timer go off (he was sure they’d set it for longer than a minute), but when it did, he felt the torturous sensations come to a close.
Cartman was more reluctant than the others, but he stopped begrudgingly.
Kyle let out a sigh of relief, and he lay on the floor for a few more moments, before slowly sitting up. “Alright Fatso, what’s my prize?” He asked, trying to rub the blush out of his cheeks.
Cartman rolled his eyes, before turning around and rustling through his closet. There were some thuds and bumps, and a weird squeaking sound, before something was tossed outside.
Kyle caught it, and looked it over. It was a ball of aluminum foil with his name crudely scribbled on it in red marker. “...What is this?” He asked.
“Your prize,” Cartman answered flatly, sitting back down. “You get the Ball Of Lame. You know, instead of getting your name in the Hall Of Fame. Get it?”
“THAT’S IT?!” Kyle shouted exasperatedly.
“Yep. Maybe if you weren’t a Jew, you’d get something better,” Cartman said, shrugging his shoulders.
Kyle threw the ball to the ground, and lunged at Cartman with an angry yell.
Stan sighed, and threw his arm over his eyes. This was what he got for asking to have fun at a sleepover...