Kyle Broflovski groaned, as he looked at his reflection in the dirty mirror of the men's washroom. The washroom stank of piss, and the walls were covered with questionable stains, but Kyle was in no mood to be a germaphobe at this point. In fact, he could have thanked the restaurant management for keeping a restroom so close to their bar area; he had just rushed into the restroom to puke, and it was at that point that he decided to end his short-lived relationship with beer.

As Kyle washed face with some icy-water to break his drunken state as much as he could, he constantly told himself to stay upright and awake. He had lost too much of his dignity, and he wasn't willing to sacrifice any more by passing out on the ground for some fake symbol of manhood.

He could clearly remember how Eric Cartman had egged him on and forced him into drinking. There was some ridiculous insult about Kyle's faith in there of course, and somehow it got him into it.

"Fuck off, Cartman" Kyle mumbled to himself, with anger and resentment as if Cartman was standing next to him and laughing at his demise. He looked up at the mirror once more and saw how awful he looked. His normal, flaming, curly and wild hair was even more wild then it was when he got into the bar, and his skin had gone white, revealing the dark circles under his jade eyes, which seemed to look tired and dull. Even his favourite t-shirt had gotten ruined in this mess; it was a lime-green t-shirt, which had "Weezer", printed on the front in white letters and had been ruined from something he accidentally spilled on his frantic trip to the restroom. It was such as shame as well, had gotten from his very first concert not too long ago.

Kyle frowned, and made his way to the paper towel dispenser to wipe off the cool water droplets that clung onto his face and hands. It was then he noticed someone's phone number scrawled on the dirty wall next to the lyrics of some song he couldn't remember.

Without any thought or question he pulled out his shiny, jet-black Motorola KRZR and dialed the number, curious as to who would pick up on the other end of the line. The phone had rang several times before a kind, feminine voice had answered.

"Hello?" the voice asked.

"Mom?" Kyle hopelessly answered. It was then he realized that the voice didn't have such a strong accent like his mother's did.

"Excuse me?" The voice questioned with confusion, "Who is this?"

"Kyle, Kyle Broflovski" Kyle murmured, nearly slipping up on the pronunciation of his own last name.

"Kyle?" the voice suddenly piped up with the spark of knowledge, "You mean Kyle from South Park High?"

Kyle nodded slowly, and answered, "Yeah, that's me. Who are you?"

"Kyle? You remember me, don't you? I'm in two of your classes!"

"Well," Kyle smiled, "Whoever you are, you sound pretty."

"O-oh!" the voice sounded surprised, and Kyle could practically hear the girl on the other end feel flustered at the sudden compliment, "Well, thank-you!"

"No, thank-you," Kyle laughed softly, "You lovely, girl, you."

Suddenly, the door to the restroom swung open with a loud creak. Appearing from the entrance was Kyle's best friend Stan Marsh, who had just been worried sick over his friend's current condition. Upon reaching eye contact with the other teen's indigo eyes, Kyle flipped his phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Stan!" Kyle said with more enthusiasm than was necessary.

"Dude, Kyle, are you alright? You came rushing in here looking like you were about to hurl,"

"Even though I did hurl," Kyle began, "I'm okay. I'm like, totally fine, y'understand?"

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers before finally saying, "Dude, I'm gonna drive you home, alright? Party's over for you."

"But, but, but it's only just begun!" Kyle waved his arms in the air, not realizing how immature and juvenile it made him look. Stan sighed, and dragged the tall and lanky, Jewish boy out from the restroom. Eventually the two made it outside and into the cold, fresh air after receiving a bombardment of insults and laughter from Cartman. It was a good thing Kyle was blind drunk, and Stan's concern for Kyle was greater than his need to punch the living daylights out of the fat ass, or else the two would have promptly broken both of his stubby legs.

After some more juvenile protesting on Kyle's part, the two had finally made it back to Kyle's place. When Stan had been greeted by Kyle's overprotective mother Sheila Broflovski, he gave her a quick explanation as to what had happened, and hoped to God that she would let this go by as a simple mistake on not only Kyle's part, but on the rest of boys' parts (mainly Cartman for forcing the poor boy in the first place). After a waving goodbye, Stan drove back to the restaurant, wondering whether Cartman had ended up in the same predicament as Kyle.

After being led to his bed by his mother, Kyle practically fell on his bed and decided to sleep without even making a shred of effort to clean himself up. After all, beer did make some people exhausted, Kyle just supposed he was like those other people.

Before drifting into the blissfulness of his dreams, he couldn't help but wonder who that girl he called in the restroom was.