70s fic
The year is 1978. Kyle has just been voted the Queen of Disco after sucking everyone's dick at Studio 54. "Hey Stan," said Kyle, tottering over to Stan on his 4-inch platform heels. "Check out my platform heels. With these heels I am finally 5'8."
Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, partly because he could not deal with Kyle's coke-fueled ramblings, and partly because Stan was also on a coke binge and it was irritating his nose. He was wearing his best pair of white leather flared pants and a tight powder blue T-shirt with the words "Not Just Peanuts" and the sleeves ripped off. "With your hair I think you might be all of 5'11, actually," Stan commented.
"Thanks!" Kyle shook some glitter and confetti out of his hair. "It's just annoying that this damn tiara doesn't sit right on my head."
"Here, let me help." Stan untangled the tiara from Kyle's matted hair. It was a simple plastic tiara, very elegant with lots of little white rhinestones. Kyle always said he didn't like to be too flashy. "There you go, good as new."
Kyle adjusted his Queen of Disco sash. "How do I look?"
"So good," said Stan.
"Can we do speedballs in the bathroom yet?"
"No," said Stan, "let's wait until Tweek gets here."
When Tweek came in he was super excited to do speedballs.
"Hooray," said Kyle, 30 times in a minute, because he was on coke.
"Oh my god, you have to chill you, you are freaking me out," Tweek said, spilling champagne all over his lavender suede pants.
"Ugh, this is so boring." Stan had given up on drinking out of a glass and was now just washing down handfuls of dexies with a bottle of Taittinger he'd gotten by fisting a record executive in the cloak room earlier in the night.
"Okay, well, that's because we're not taking drugs yet," said Kyle, "Jesus Christ." That was when he spotted his ex-lover, the blond lothario Kenny, across the dance floor. "Oh my god, hide meeee, hide meeeeeeeeee," Kyle said about 12 times, slurring his words so no one could understand him.
"If you end up in the ER, man, don't you dare rat me out," said Tweek.
"Tweek, you are such a bad friend," said Stan.
"I'm not your friend! You just said you could introduce me to Warhol if I helped you guys do speedballs."
"That doesn't sound like something I'd say!"
"This scene is depressing," said Kyle, trying to climb over a pilaster. "I gotta get out of here."
"Man, he is freaking out," said Tweek. "It's only 5 in the morning."
"Shhh." Stan put his arm around Kyle's shoulders. Kyle was now sobbing and clawing at his face. "Honey, let's go to the Everard."
"No, I want speedballs," said Kyle, "but oh my god, is Kenny coming over here, he gave me some really nasty herpes, I can't talk to him."
"Man you have herpes?" Tweek asked. "I'm not sharing my needles with you guys! Jesus."
"Fine, we'll just be going."
"Don't you narc me out," said Tweek.
On the way out the door, Kyle and Stan did run into Kenny. "Oh hi," said Kenny. He was well-liked because he had a luxurious, full mustache. "Kyle, how have you been? Have you met my new lover, Clyde?"
"Ugh, Kenny, only you would go out with a loser like Clyde."
"I went out with a loser like you," Kenny pointed out.
"Ugh! Kenny, shut up, we're going to the baths."
"That's great, you do that. Do you guys know where I can get some smack?"
"Tweek's got some," said Stan.
"That's great, thanks," said Kenny. "See you around."
"Yes," said Stan. "See you."
When they got to the corner to try to catch a cab, the sun was already rising. "I hope I never seen Kenny again," said Kyle. And he never did, until he accidentally found out he was sharing a room with Kenny at Craig's place on Fire Island that summer. It was hella awkward. Clyde was very possessive.
Epilogue:
Three years later Clyde died of AIDS.
THE END
Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, partly because he could not deal with Kyle's coke-fueled ramblings, and partly because Stan was also on a coke binge and it was irritating his nose. He was wearing his best pair of white leather flared pants and a tight powder blue T-shirt with the words "Not Just Peanuts" and the sleeves ripped off. "With your hair I think you might be all of 5'11, actually," Stan commented.
"Thanks!" Kyle shook some glitter and confetti out of his hair. "It's just annoying that this damn tiara doesn't sit right on my head."
"Here, let me help." Stan untangled the tiara from Kyle's matted hair. It was a simple plastic tiara, very elegant with lots of little white rhinestones. Kyle always said he didn't like to be too flashy. "There you go, good as new."
Kyle adjusted his Queen of Disco sash. "How do I look?"
"So good," said Stan.
"Can we do speedballs in the bathroom yet?"
"No," said Stan, "let's wait until Tweek gets here."
When Tweek came in he was super excited to do speedballs.
"Hooray," said Kyle, 30 times in a minute, because he was on coke.
"Oh my god, you have to chill you, you are freaking me out," Tweek said, spilling champagne all over his lavender suede pants.
"Ugh, this is so boring." Stan had given up on drinking out of a glass and was now just washing down handfuls of dexies with a bottle of Taittinger he'd gotten by fisting a record executive in the cloak room earlier in the night.
"Okay, well, that's because we're not taking drugs yet," said Kyle, "Jesus Christ." That was when he spotted his ex-lover, the blond lothario Kenny, across the dance floor. "Oh my god, hide meeee, hide meeeeeeeeee," Kyle said about 12 times, slurring his words so no one could understand him.
"If you end up in the ER, man, don't you dare rat me out," said Tweek.
"Tweek, you are such a bad friend," said Stan.
"I'm not your friend! You just said you could introduce me to Warhol if I helped you guys do speedballs."
"That doesn't sound like something I'd say!"
"This scene is depressing," said Kyle, trying to climb over a pilaster. "I gotta get out of here."
"Man, he is freaking out," said Tweek. "It's only 5 in the morning."
"Shhh." Stan put his arm around Kyle's shoulders. Kyle was now sobbing and clawing at his face. "Honey, let's go to the Everard."
"No, I want speedballs," said Kyle, "but oh my god, is Kenny coming over here, he gave me some really nasty herpes, I can't talk to him."
"Man you have herpes?" Tweek asked. "I'm not sharing my needles with you guys! Jesus."
"Fine, we'll just be going."
"Don't you narc me out," said Tweek.
On the way out the door, Kyle and Stan did run into Kenny. "Oh hi," said Kenny. He was well-liked because he had a luxurious, full mustache. "Kyle, how have you been? Have you met my new lover, Clyde?"
"Ugh, Kenny, only you would go out with a loser like Clyde."
"I went out with a loser like you," Kenny pointed out.
"Ugh! Kenny, shut up, we're going to the baths."
"That's great, you do that. Do you guys know where I can get some smack?"
"Tweek's got some," said Stan.
"That's great, thanks," said Kenny. "See you around."
"Yes," said Stan. "See you."
When they got to the corner to try to catch a cab, the sun was already rising. "I hope I never seen Kenny again," said Kyle. And he never did, until he accidentally found out he was sharing a room with Kenny at Craig's place on Fire Island that summer. It was hella awkward. Clyde was very possessive.
Epilogue:
Three years later Clyde died of AIDS.
THE END