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Drillenisse (Teasing nisse)

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Craig always had a dream of moving into a place of his own. No matter how small, he’d appreciate the size of it by the graceful amount of solitude he could enjoy. It would be glorious.

Now that he was finally there, everything was a lot more stressful than he’d ever imagined. Sure, it was just one small apartment, but now he had to wash his own clothes, pay the rent, even do things like buy his own toilet paper. He never imagined being stressed about that, but it was such a foreign concept. His mom usually always bought things like soap and shampoo, and here he was, standing in front of his sink with no soap. Oh well.

Since he was the first kid out of South Park to move into his own apartment, his old friends were stoked. The only thing on their minds lately was his moving-in party. Clyde, Token, Jimmy and Jason were all hyped on it. Craig could care less. Of course he was excited for his own party, but really he felt no urge to party this hard. Clyde and Jimmy said something about inviting at least twenty people. He really didn’t need that. Especially when he forgot to buy soap. This sucked.

Craig dried his wet hands on the towel in his small kitchen, tapping his pocket. Huh. That was odd. His keys weren’t there. He never let his keys leave his pockets. He looked around on the table in the kitchen, but there wasn’t a trace of them. Craig usually never misplaced anything. The only way he’d misplace it is if it was stolen. Craig cringed and wiped at his face. He really didn’t need this. He really didn’t need someone to steal from him. Not now. Maybe later. If he put up a note in the hallway, maybe the thief would be nice and give it back? Craig just didn’t want to go through the trouble of changing his lock and getting a new key. He just got this place.

Craig heaved a big sigh and took another look over at the counter. The keys were there.

He had just checked there, hadn’t he?

Maybe the moving-in party was taking a toll on him?

Whatever the case was, Craig gratefully pocketed his keys and took off towards the shop. He’d remind himself to keep an extra look out for his keys. The last thing he’d want was for them to go missing again.

He checked his pockets for his wallet, making sure everything was in place. He didn’t have his wi-fi up and running yet, but there was plenty of time for him to fix that up. He was ready for his first day in his new apartment. He just needed soap first.

Zipping his coat up, he didn’t mind walking to the store. He was grateful he found an apartment with a nice walking distance to nearby grocery places. At least he didn’t have to drive a long way they usually did in South Park. This really was a bigger city, and it reflected. Not only were there more stores, the fact that he was living in an apartment and not a house was a big change. He usually hated changes in his routines, but all of this were necessary to finally start living on his own. If he wanted to become an ordinary human functioning in society, he had to make sacrifices sometimes. Like buying groceries. He entered the store with one objective: Soap. Reading the headlines up above, he located the hygiene department. Aisles upon aisles of different soaps surrounded him. How hard could soap be, Craig though. Very hard.

He stood with a large dilemma.

Either he could buy the rosy soap, or the neutral. He liked the way the rosy one smelled better, but weren’t those fake smells bad for you? Then again, did he really want his hands to smell all the time? What if the rosy scent went away, or if he grew tired of how it smelled? Better to go with the neutral one. After ten minutes of internally debating the pros and cons, he told himself to buck up and make a decision, or he’d never leave the store.

On his hazardous way to the checkup line, he nabbed an extra toilet roll. Better safe than sorry. The line to checkout was thankfully short. He managed to fish out his wallet with no problem. Flipping through his wallet, he found an extra piece of paper he hadn’t noticed there before. Oh well. He found pulled out his credit card and payed what he owed.

Once he had finally acquired soap (and an extra helping of toilet rolls), he walked himself home, placing the liquid godly fountain of bacteria extermination on its rightful place, and just dropping the toilet rolls off wherever. He’d remember to remove them before the party started. Hopefully. He cracked his back a few times, picking his handmade shopping list out of his pocket and placing it neatly on the table. He picked a writing pen out of his trusty pencil-case and harshly crossed out the words “Soap”.

That should do it. Now Craig just needed some food. Would last night’s leftovers do? Did he really want another night of stale noodles? He forced himself upwards and dragging his feet towards the kitchen. He didn’t mind the solitude of it all, but it was already getting to him, hearing nothing but his own footprints, and tiny paws.


Craig whipped his head towards the noise.

Nothing was there. Not even a mouse.

Craig was alone in here, wasn’t he?

Stripe was being baby-sitted by Ruby while he was out.

Craig must’ve really gone mad at being alone for so long. He just went outside so it couldn’t be cabin fever. Craig would think about that another time. His stomach was rumbling.

He could’ve just been hearing things because he was so hungry. It was already nearing dinner-time.

Rummaging through his refrigerator he found and pulled out a box of leftover. It wasn’t amazing, but it was better than nothing. He popped it into his microwave oven, a small gift from his dad for moving out. His mother insisted that he only needed an oven, but his dad knew him well. As if Craig would ever be bothered to cook anything for himself.

Pulling the hot box out of the microwave, he found a fork and readied himself for a meal made for… well, maybe not a king. The king’s food taster, perhaps? That could do. He never wanted to be king anyway.

There wasn’t a TV in his place yet and his computer didn’t have wi-fi, so the only thing left was to drain the data on his phone. It was either that or eating in silence. Flipping his phone over, he munched on his microwaved dinner as he ate to the dramatic acts of young Youtube celebrities. It may not have been the life he had imagined moving out to, but it was peaceful. Before the video ended, he read the title of another video. There was hot new gossip in the drama department, and it wasn’t like him to indulge himself in drama for the sake of keeping up with news. Sometimes, Craig just enjoyed the nemesis of the youthful hubris. It was indulgent, yes, but he’d much rather get sucked into the drama of strangers than experience it firsthand. One trip to Peru was enough.

Before the new video had completely loaded, there was a three second delay of silence. The sound was there again. The pitter patter of small feet. Craig whipped his head faster this time, barely seeing a quick flash disappear into a hole in the wall.

Aw, fuck.

The apartment had mice. No wonder the previous owners were selling this place for so little. Craig cringed to himself as he paused the video. He had thankfully finished his food before getting up, placing the now empty box on the table. He walked to the small hole in the wall. It was barely big enough for a mouse. What did people even do with mice? He didn’t want to kill them. Maybe he could pay for an animal team to relocate them? Did that even exist? Or was it only on animal planet?

For now, the only thing he could do was to move a metal chair to block the hole. He hoped the poor mice had a food storage. Oh well. It was getting too late for this. He’d deal with this in the morning. The mice wouldn’t die just from one day of not eating. Besides, if they were running around now, they were probably full of food. Craig tapped the chair with one finger and walked back to his couch and vanished food. He picked up his phone and tapped a quick message to his mom.

“mom theres mice in the apartment”

He pocketed his phone and wiped his head. At least he could get a nice rest. It wasn’t that he didn’t like rodents, but he really didn’t feel like domesticating wild beasts. At least not at the moment. Changing into his t-shirt and sleeping boxers, he brought his phone with him to bed. Tapping an alarm in with a yawn, he stuffed his phone beneath his pillow.

He fell asleep to the tap tap tap.



He woke up the next morning to his phone’s alarm. He developed a bad habit of going to bed at ungodly hours and waking up long after noon. What was he supposed to do today? Oh yeah, a party. Token was in charge of the food and Clyde promised lots of booze. Jimmy said he’d bring music, so Craig didn’t really have anything to worry about. He wiped his mouth of excess salvia and stretched. Sand. His entire bed was dusted with sand.

Great. The mice must’ve escaped. Could they chew through metal? They probably could. Craig sat up, and with a groan he dusted a swipe of them off the bed. He could vacuum them up later. His hand passed a soft pile of sand and that’s when he realized. It wasn’t sand. It was crumbs.

Seemed like cookie crumbs. Oh god, he hoped they were cookie crumbs. Whatever. He had to shower anyway.

Getting up, he walked to his closet and picked out his clothes for the party. The party wouldn’t be in another hour. He had plenty of time. He closed off the door to his bedroom, hoping no one would enter it. Who was he kidding? They probably would. Whatever. It was their own fault if they wanted to fool around in his bed. They could be grown ass adults and take their punishment.

He made his shower as quick as he possibly could. By that, it meant that Craig probably stood in there for a good 20 minutes. No rush on someone who just woke up. That would just be torture. He did himself another favor and brushed his teeth in the shower. It wasn’t a virtue he allowed himself a lot, but Craig liked the little dangers in life.

He stepped out and toweled his hair off. He’d deal with the wet floor later, as it left tiny puddles at each of his footprints. When he reached the kitchen, he sneaked a glance at the metal chair. It was moved out of the way. Of course it was. Mice were fucking clever as shit. He turned on the electric kettle and slumped over the counter. He really hated parties. Parties were Clyde’s deal not his. Why did he have such god-awful friends who dragged him into this? The water came to a boiling stop and automatically shut itself down. He pulled a cup out of the pantry and a spoon from the cupboard. Sneaking two spoons of coffee into his cup without looking, he poured in some boiling water to his cup. Instead of black murky water, it became a gross slimy light brown blend. Craig failed to notice this, and went to the refrigerator to pour in a big spoonful of milk. He stirred his mystery liquid with the spoon while setting the milk back. Milk helped cool coffee down faster, so he took a big sip from the elixir he was hooked on since the start of high school.
When the liquid finally reached his taste buds, Craig noticed. He spat out the putrid drink, creating a brown spray. He hastily poured the fake coffee into the sink, one lip cringing upwards in disgust. The milk must’ve been sour since the liquid was full of clumps. Disgusting. He stomped towards the refrigerator, whipping the milk out again. The expiration date was fine. With a careful hand and nose, he took a whiff of the scent. It didn’t smell bad. There was one final test he could do.

He carefully let the milk run into the drain. It was completely fluid. Not a single bump. He put the milk back with a sour frown. That was odd. If it wasn’t the milk that was bad, then what could it be? It couldn’t be the coffee. He drank it the day before. Unless the mice had somehow gotten a hold of it. He doubted it, mostly for his own sanity’s sake, but still took it upon himself to check it out. He opened up his bag of coffee. It seemed like it always did. Crushed up weird brown shapes. He leaned his nose down to smell it, but before he could, his phone rang off. Great. He forgot his phone in his bed.

He sealed up the bag and jogged to the bedroom, retrieving his beeping phone. Before Craig could even say his usual greetings, Clyde was already going off on him.

“Baby, we’ll be there in twenty minutes. Get dressed!” Craig couldn’t even chew Clyde out for the inappropriate nickname or his odd psychic powers before Clyde had hung up on him. He hated him. What an asshole. He looked at the time. The guests would be there in thirty minutes. He really had to get dressed. He loved Clyde for reminding him. What a good guy.

He looked through his closet for a decent set of clothes. Something that said: “Come in and get hammered,” but also, “please leave by 9.”

He found the perfect mix of clothes and pulled them over his head when the doorbell rang. Craig jumped at the sound, but carefully strode to his door to let in his friends. He had hoped it would just be them, but they promised Craig they’d at least try to find him a girlfriend. You couldn’t get a girlfriend if you didn’t socialize. Craig wasn’t particularly interested in either.

Token, Clyde and Jimmy entered. Clyde carrying at least 10 packs of pizza and Token carrying a whole square of beer. Jimmy had a few more bottles slung around his shoulder in bags. Craig welcomed his friends inside, making sure to close the door behind them. When his friends made themselves comfortable, they immediately started cleaning up his place. He usually always kept his rooms spotless, but he was too emotionally drained at the thought of Clyde pushing girls in his direction that he couldn’t bring himself to do a simple task like throwing out the leftover box from the night before. A part of him felt lucky that his friends cared enough about his image to care, but another part of him wondered if they were only doing it because they were forcing him to hold the party. It was probably for the party.

“Your hair is still wet, what the fuck?” Token remarked eloquently, probably worried more about the risk of an ear-infection than his image. Token was so nice. Clyde threw the damp towel at his face. Clyde was such a dick.

“What’s the point of you guys hooking me up with some chick from South Park, anyway? I’ve dated almost all of them and they all hated me. The feeling was mutual, but still,” Craig rambled on for an unusually long time for him.

“Well, guess who just got single?” Jimmy let out a classic smile. Craig rolled his eyes and toweled off his hair without a word.

“H-H-H-…” Jimmy stumbled still on the same letter. Craig didn’t mind. There was nothing to do but get used to it.

“H-…. He-… H-, H-…” Jimmy was still going. Clyde and Token were busy cleaning up Craig’s messes.

“Heeee-… Heeei-…” Jimmy struggled. Craig had no rush. He only had his own party. He could stand there listening to Jimmy’s struggles all night if it meant no girls. Clyde was wiping down Craig’s watery footprints while Token was making room for the extra toilet paper in the cabinet.

“Heei-… Hei-… Heid-…” Craig’s hair was dry now, but it was okay. He could pretend to do something while Jimmy was talking. Or, trying to talk. Clyde boiled the electric kettle, but it popped after a few seconds. Craig had just heated it some minutes ago, of course it was still warm. Token was looking at the electric kettle as if it was a new and foreign object. He probably only had a coffee maker at his house.

“Heidi… Guess who just got single? Heidi Tur-… Heidi Turn-… Tuer- …” Clyde prepared two cups, one for himself and Token for their hard work in Craig’s apartment. Craig was going to warn them about the bad coffee, but they would find out soon enough.

“Heidi Turner. Guess who just got single?” Jimmy proudly proclaimed.

“My name’s not Heidi. Who?” Craig teased him, his voice carrying its ever monotone, but nasal pitch. Jimmy didn’t like it when people took the role of the comedian from him, but he accepted Craig’s challenge.

“Very funny. Heidi Turner is single. You know who she is right?” Jimmy spoke as if Craig couldn’t remember every single student that went to their grade. He was right. He had no idea who Heidi Turner was.

“And I care, because…?” Craig already felt like drinking a beer.

“Haha, Craig were you mad at doing your groceries?” Token held up his cut off piece of paper that he used for his groceries. In big bold letters was written the word “M A D” over his writing. It wasn’t his writing.

“Token knock it off, it’s not funny.” The way Token’s smile faltered at his words only meant one thing. Token didn’t do it.

Then who did?

Was there someone mad at him? Did the mice gain sentience?

“Haha, Craig why does your coffee smell like Christmas?” Clyde stuffed his nose into Craig’s coffee. Craig didn’t know what to say. He had no idea that Christmas had a certain type of smell or that was the problem with his coffee. He still had no idea what that meant. First the mice, then the note and now his coffee was fucked up? On top of the party and the boys pushing girls on him again? Why couldn’t he catch a break?

Just then, the doorbell rang. Craig didn’t need this. Not right now. He didn’t need a swarm of drunk kids barging in on him when he was stressed about his home being infested with angry Christmas rats. Clyde was in charge of opening the door and letting people in. Jimmy went into work-mode too, pulling out his iphone and Bluetooth speaker. Everything about this was a horrible idea. Craig opened up the pizza tray and swiped a piece. As delicious as his old leftovers were, there was just something about warm pizza. Token pulled a face at Craig when the sound of a bunch of footsteps walked into the door. God, he didn’t have the energy to deal with people right now.

“Great to see you!” Stan’s voice boomed out at the same time as the music finally started. It was an upbeat tune. Craig’s house was haunted by rats and now it was haunted by party-happy youngsters. Craig was too old for this.

“Back at cha,” Craig tried to say, but his mouth was stuffed full of pizza. Wendy flipped a disgusted lip at his manners, but he really couldn’t care less. Kyle and Kenny weren’t far behind, and with them they brought Bebe and Heidi. Bebe promised Red and Kevin would join later. Clyde’s elbow jabbed so hard into Craig’s rib that he briefly wondered if going to the E.R. with inner bleeding was a good enough excuse to miss out on your own party. Craig tried not to let it bother him. So what if his friends kept trying to hook him up with girls? So what if they all left him after they found out what an unenthusiastic dude he was? So what if they were all offended that he never pushed for anything sexual with any of them? Hell, even holding hands seemed awkward.

More people entered, and Craig had no clue who they were. Clyde really didn’t undermine the number of people he had invited. There was at least 20 people. Craig stole a beer from his own party and tried to get as hammered as possible. He hid out in his own kitchen, trying to drink away the memory that two youngsters he didn’t even know were doing dirty things in his bed. He’d have to bury those sheets. Burn them, and then bury them.

“Hey. You’re having fun?” The voice of one dirty blonde girl woke him from his arsonist thoughts. She looked like a Christmas angel on top of a tree. Craig could tell why the boys tried to push them together. She was serene in a way that wasn’t hostile at all. She’d didn’t seem like the type of girl to take things one sexual step at a time. Instead she’d wait at the bottom of the stairs for someone to take her hand and drag her up, step by step.
That’s what she seemed like. Craig knew the rumors. He knew she was a two-timing, lying slut. At least, that’s what the girls called her.

“As much fun as one can have here,” Craig tried to say. Instead, it came out a jumbled mess of incoherent words and grunts. Okay, so maybe he had another beer before the one he was holding in his hand. What was the difference? He put the beer down on his kitchen table. He wiped his eyes with one hand, embarrassed at his own behavior. He wasn’t usually like this. He liked parties. Just not today. What was happening today?

“Oh my god! Nisse!” Heidi burst out in a joyous laughter. At first, Craig assumed that she had fucked up the word “Nice”, and was about to go off on her for finding joy in his misery, but then he looked down. His beer was gone. It was replaced by a small half-circle cookie. Not like a moon, but like a sphere cut in half.

“What the fuck?” Fell clearly out of his mouth. He was drunker than he thought.

“Who used to live here?” Heidi was beyond amused with this new knowledge. She picked up the small treat with her hands and studied it. Craig wasn’t sure if it was consumable for humans or for dogs.

“I haven’t eaten pebernødder for a long time!” Heidi said, her unnatural stumble through the Danish giving away that she wasn’t a native speaker. Not to Craig, though. It made no difference to him.

“OH man, is that a pepernoten?” Clyde’s voice was too close to his ear for him to handle. He snagged the treat out of the girls hand and stuffed his face with the single button.

“My mom used to make these all the time! You know, before she,” Clyde did a gesture with his hand sliding over his neck. Leave it to Clyde to make the death of his own mother a morbid thing. Craig was beyond confused. He didn’t want this.

“I wanted to help you wingman, but you got this,” Clyde spewed a little bit of Christmas treat into Craig’s hair. Craig chose to ignore Clyde as hard as he could, answering Heidi’s questions instead.

“I’m not really sure… Why?” Craig instinctively clutched his hand to feel up his beer, but forgot that it had transformed into a peppernut cookie. This was bullshit, he wanted his beer back, magic or not. Clyde walked backwards away, almost stumbling into everything he passed. Craig was a bit too boozed up to tell if Clyde had it worse than him, alcohol-wise. He probably did.

“Well,” Heidi cast a quick glance at Clyde’s odd way of leaving, hoping he didn’t die underway, “did their last names end in –sen, or maybe –son?” She flipped her hair away from her when she was done, bending down lower to inspect the crumbs left behind. He never did think too much about their names, but it did ring a bell. Craig’s gaze traveled from her head to up above her, noticing movement directly behind her. Up on the shelf, right on the electric exhaust hood of the stove, walked a tiny human.

“Yeah the name was like, Andersen, I think?” Craig crossed his arms, staring directly at the guy. He could be no bigger than a thumb. Heidi followed the trail of tiny crumbs, huffing in affirmation.

“They were probably Scandinavian. They must’ve had a house-nisse that they left behind, and you just happened to move in here where he lived. He should’ve moved with them, but he probably didn’t know the previous occupants were leaving so soon.” As Heidi droned on, Craig kept his gaze at the tiny person. He wasn’t letting it out of sight this time.

“How does… a nisse look like?” Craig was drunk, yes, but probably not drunk enough to be seeing things like this. Probably.

“Well, they’re like tiny people. No bigger than a thumb. They usually wear red hats.” Yeah, then it was definitely a nisse on the top of his cabinet. Craig pointed a finger at him.

“You mean like that one?”

Heidi whipped her head around and looked right at the tiny nisse who stopped in his tracks, like a deer caught in a million floodlights. Heidi was speechless. Craig was just a bit impatient. First mice and then Thumbelina’s.

“Well… is it him or not?” Craig almost felt the need to tap his foot. How long could it be for her to tell him if it was the culprit or not. He just wanted his beer back, and to find out why he was mad at him. This was his house, and he didn’t feel like sharing it, magical creature or not.

“H-Hi. We mean you no harm. Is there anything we can do for you?” Heidi’s suddenly timid nature surprised Craig. As expected from a two-timing back stabbing bitch, suddenly changing her entire demeanor in seconds. The tiny human whipped his head back and forth between the girl and the boy in the room. He suddenly lifted a hand and pointed directly at Craig. What an honor. The tiny thumb-sized human had chosen him as a sacrifice. This was giving him too many Peruvian vibes for him to deal with, drunk or not.

“What are you so mad about? I’m the one who should be mad. You took my beer.” Arguing with a tiny magical creature wasn’t the best idea Craig had, but he was tired of being polite. It was his party, he was hammered and he had an unwelcome guest. He had a long day, and he hadn’t even had a single cup of coffee yet. The tiny boy moved with shaking hands, as he stood rooted in spot, but pulled an even tinier book from his pocket. A voice so small that Craig had to focus on it to fully hear it came out of the boys mouth.

“Litteratum, litterotum, skavillike villikke vok, acceleratum, decelleratum - bum!" At the last word, the tiny nisse covered his eyes. He transformed in front of them, turning roughly their size. Dark green vest covered a green button up shirt. A soft grey pair of shorts cut off, showing off white tights. He wasn’t wearing normal dress shoes, but wooden clogs. On top of his blonde little angelic head was a red hat, softly pointing upwards. His blonde hair framed his face just right, leaving all of Craig’s focus on his soft features.

Holy shit, he was so cute.

“Uhm, thanks,” the blonde nisse said, fixing his hat and correcting his shorts. Fuck, Craig had said that out loud didn’t he? Oh well, it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing he had done.

“Oh, you speak English?” A girl said in the room. It was Heidi. Craig had completely forgotten she was there too. Couldn’t she like, leave real quick?

“Yeah, you kinda have to when you live in America,” his words were stressed out in random places, and his eye twitched every once in a while. Were they all like this? Or was he just unique.

“Craig Tucker,” the dark haired boy said, basically stabbing his hand towards the magical boy.

“Tweek Tweak. Nice to meet you.” He seemed more confident now that they were roughly the same size, but he still had nervous tics every now and then. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but Craig felt like giving him a big hug.

“Look, I’m like, really hungry. Do you have any food, like any at all?” Tweek’s timid nature was almost too much for Craig to bear. He didn’t even know that was a thing he liked, but apparently he was all over his cutesy way of acting. Craig did this notion where he tipped his head in the direction they had to go, but it looked a lot worse than he intended with his level of intoxication. Tweek didn’t understand his cue until Craig turned around and took off in one direction. Craig really hoped there was more pizza left, or he was going to look so uncool in front of his new friend.

Thankfully, Craig found an unopened pizza box and shoved it into Tweek’s hands. He scrambled to grip a tight hold of it, careful not to drop the last bit of food at the party. Opening the box with one hand, Craig sneaked a glance at the insides. Fuck. It was a pineapple pizza. No way Tweek would wanna eat that. He should’ve known. No one here at the party, drunk or not, were gonna eat pineapple pizza. This time, it was Tweek who turned around and took off, walking back into the small kitchen. He propped himself up on one of Craig’s barstools, placing the box on the table to the beat of the music. Craig had forgot that it was even playing. He leaned over the opposite end of the table, propping his head up with one hand on the surface. Tweek looked amazing, even when stuffing himself with one slice of pizza after another.

“Usually, the people who live here bring me a food sacrifice, but they left? I thought they were you, so I left you a note saying I wanted food, but I forgot it means something else, oh God, I hope I didn’t scare you with it. I wasn’t mad, I just wanted food.” Tweek talked with his mouth full, but Craig didn’t notice. He just nodded, entranced by Tweek’s illuminating presence. Where had he been all his life?

“You blocked up my hole, that was a pretty dick move, I’ll tell you. The rules said I had to burn something in your apartment, but I couldn’t really make myself do it,” Tweek admitted. Craig wasn’t listening, or he’d have been concerned with the almost-arsonist.

“I don’t know, maybe I just have a soft spot for…” Tweek finally looked up, noticing that Craig was openly staring at him with a love-struck smile.

“Dark haired guys,” Tweek finished, taking another bite out of the pizza in his hand. He nibbled it until it was gone from his hand and fished up another piece. He hid his face beneath the box, trying not to reveal his reddening face. He had anticipated shock, maybe terror from his reveal, not adoration.

“Hmm? Sorry, I didn’t really hear what you said?” Thrown off his hypnosis by Tweek’s increased shyness. His sly smirk was now a full on smile. He was as wasted as could be, but he also hadn’t eaten all day. His stomach reminded him of this when it grumbled.

“Do you cook?” Tweek asked, peeking his eyes up from the box.
Craig shook his head, still head over heels.

“Maybe, we can like, switch roles? So like, I cook for both of us, you know? And you like, protect the house, or something?” Tweek stuttered the words out, nervously fiddling with a lock of hair.

“I like you,” Craig drunkenly slurred back. Tweek grinned back at him.

“I’ll ask you again tomorrow when you’re more sober.” Tweek finished off his words, leaning in to kiss Craig’s forehead. Just as Tweek came close enough, Craig moved just enough for their lips to brush together. Tweek leaned back, his face red as a tomato, and scrambled off the barstool.

“Litteratumlitterotumskavillikevillikkevokacceleratumdecelleratum - bum!!" Tweek said much faster, louder and with more panic. Craig watched with fascination as the blonde boy became smaller in a second, until he disappeared out of his line of sight.

“See ya,” Craig said out loud, hoping Tweek could hear him when he was that small.

“Craig, where have you been? The party’s almost over!” Token, Jimmy and Clyde came in, surrounding Craig from all sides. He hummed, turning around to his three friends with a secret smile.

“You guys… I’m in love.” Craig’s drunken outburst raised the eyebrows out of all three of them.

“W-With H-H-Heidi?” Jimmy nervously stuttered out.

“No, fuck Heidi, what the fuck?” Craig sneered out. Relief washed over his friends faces.

“Oh thank God. We didn’t want your heart broken, man. Cartman just appeared and like, I’m pretty sure they’re back together again. They’re in your room. I hope they’re just talking,” Token’s face visibly cringed.

“Who’s the mystery lover, huh?” Clyde leaned against the counter next to him. Craig looked over his shoulder. A tiny little red dot peeked out from one of his pantry shelves before closing the door in a silent hurry.

“I don’t even know, man.”