Hanson Cabin; Alcove B1. Sunday Evening [ 06/19 ].
"H-hey, Dad!"
Butters was laying belly-down on his bed, his legs up in the air and kicking idly as he talked on the phone, connected through to South Park, talking to his father.
Well, to the voice mail, anyway.
"Happy Father's Day! Boy, I sure hope you and Mom had a good one. Sorry I got your voice mail; I guess you guys are out doin' something real fun to celebrate!"
Actually, they recognized the number and just let it go. Ahem.
"I sure miss goin' with you to Benningan's this year! If you go, and you should, make sure to have some chipolte wings for me! I've gotten to do lots of fun things here at camp, including bein' real responsible with two whole jobs, one at a fix-it place and one at a post office, so I made sure your present comes. I'm also working for the radio, my very own show, can you believe it? And we've been going lots of really great places, too, oh, boy, you should see some of these places, Dad! And today, there was even a bunch of half-nekkid men all wrestlin' around in a rink like at that one place you always go t---"
"Butters?"
"Oh, h-hey, Dad, you are home! Happy Father's Day!"
"Why, thanks, Butters. Say, that's real nice of you to call and everything. But you just caught me and your mother on our way out, but looks like we caught us right on our way out the door."
"Really? Wow! That's great, Dad! You guys goin' out to Bennigan's?"
"Er, yes, Butters. We're going out to Bennigan's. In fact, we better get going. You know how busy it can get."
"Gee, whiz, Dad, you shoulda made a reservation on a busy night like tonight. That way, you won't even have to wait with the little glowy thingy or anythi--
"We'll catch up with you later, Butters. You're being good, I hope. No need to ground you?"
"Ground me? Hamburgers, Dad, of course not! I'm being real good, staying away from drugs and alcohol and se--"
"That's good, Butters. You have a good night now, you hear?"
"Thanks, Dad! I will! Happy Father's Da--"
But then Butters realized he was talking to dead air and, whistling a little to himself, shut off his phone and picked up his comic book. Boy, his parents sure were eager to get going to Bennigan's. Or so he thought, considering when Stephen Stotch got off the phone and his wife asked who it was, he explained that it looked like Butters was still alive after all, to which she commented that that was nice, and they went back to watching their movie.
Don't get them wrong, they loved their son a great deal, but one of the best parts about these summer camps was that it meant that he wasn't around. Sure, they missed him, but sometimes the independence was just too nice to let go.
[[ like I could not do a father's day post for Butters. Open! ]]
Butters was laying belly-down on his bed, his legs up in the air and kicking idly as he talked on the phone, connected through to South Park, talking to his father.
Well, to the voice mail, anyway.
"Happy Father's Day! Boy, I sure hope you and Mom had a good one. Sorry I got your voice mail; I guess you guys are out doin' something real fun to celebrate!"
Actually, they recognized the number and just let it go. Ahem.
"I sure miss goin' with you to Benningan's this year! If you go, and you should, make sure to have some chipolte wings for me! I've gotten to do lots of fun things here at camp, including bein' real responsible with two whole jobs, one at a fix-it place and one at a post office, so I made sure your present comes. I'm also working for the radio, my very own show, can you believe it? And we've been going lots of really great places, too, oh, boy, you should see some of these places, Dad! And today, there was even a bunch of half-nekkid men all wrestlin' around in a rink like at that one place you always go t---"
"Butters?"
"Oh, h-hey, Dad, you are home! Happy Father's Day!"
"Why, thanks, Butters. Say, that's real nice of you to call and everything. But you just caught me and your mother on our way out, but looks like we caught us right on our way out the door."
"Really? Wow! That's great, Dad! You guys goin' out to Bennigan's?"
"Er, yes, Butters. We're going out to Bennigan's. In fact, we better get going. You know how busy it can get."
"Gee, whiz, Dad, you shoulda made a reservation on a busy night like tonight. That way, you won't even have to wait with the little glowy thingy or anythi--
"We'll catch up with you later, Butters. You're being good, I hope. No need to ground you?"
"Ground me? Hamburgers, Dad, of course not! I'm being real good, staying away from drugs and alcohol and se--"
"That's good, Butters. You have a good night now, you hear?"
"Thanks, Dad! I will! Happy Father's Da--"
But then Butters realized he was talking to dead air and, whistling a little to himself, shut off his phone and picked up his comic book. Boy, his parents sure were eager to get going to Bennigan's. Or so he thought, considering when Stephen Stotch got off the phone and his wife asked who it was, he explained that it looked like Butters was still alive after all, to which she commented that that was nice, and they went back to watching their movie.
Don't get them wrong, they loved their son a great deal, but one of the best parts about these summer camps was that it meant that he wasn't around. Sure, they missed him, but sometimes the independence was just too nice to let go.
[[ like I could not do a father's day post for Butters. Open! ]]