I wake up, smiling at the sigh of Kyle, Butters and Stan still asleep.

It's gonna be a good day. Nobody can stop me.

I take my parka, throwing it on before putting Stan's alarm clock on, to 5 minutes from now.

"Oh shit, snow," I whisper.

I smile and open the door, Sparky runs into the room, going to sit on Kyle's face. I have to hold back my laugh as Kyle, calmly, shows his middle finger at me before taking Sparky with both his hands, putting him on Butters' face.

"Morning," he whispers.

I nod and help him stand up. He just sips his coat, just like me, too lazy to change out of pj's.

"Would you be so kind as to turn, I wanna change my jeans," Kyle whispers.

I roll my eyes, turning on my heels.

"Okay," he whispers.

I turn back to him.

"Hey. With good luck, Sharon isn't up," I whisper.

He rolls his eyes and brushes hair out of his face.

"Fine," Kyle whispers.

"Butterfly is a heavy sleeper to sleep with a dog on his face," I whisper.

Kyle nods, opening the door again. We, quietly, walk into the living room to find Randy kicked out of bed... again.

"Fucks sake," Kyle whispers.

Kyle takes the empty whiskey bottle, putting it into a bag full of ones alike to it.

"Okay. I put the alarm clock on," I whisper to Kyle.

Kyle chuckles a little.

"My ears don't work in the morning," Kyle says.

I laugh silently as well before taking a glass of water.

"So? Game's tomorrow?" I ask.

"Yup. I get to watch yours and you can come to mine. It's going to be awesome, Token and I have really tried to hype the team this season. Craig, obviously, isn't very hyped, nor is Tweek. I swear, the two are on just so they can be with each other since 'everyone has to be in two clubs.' I mean, if you're gonna let us make a basketball team, why the fuck would you keep giving the gym, the only place with hoops, to the sports you could play outside?" Kyle whispers.

"True. It's idiotic, but, hey, at least you and the team will have it in the bag, like always," I whisper.

"I sure hope so. Token says that too. God, I wouldn't make it without the guy there," Kyle whispers.

"There is a reason you're both captains," I whisper.

The faint noise of an alarm sends both of us into laughing fits. In two minutes, Stan and Butters come down the stairs, Stan with his hat on his head.

"I'm having a bad hair day, okay?" Stan asks.

He notices his dad.

"Morning father!" He yells.

No answer.

"Oh noo, they want to rise taxes again," Stan says, on a bored voice.

Randy wakes up immediately.

"What?" He asks.

"A pill and half a glass of water?" Stan asks.

Randy nods and Stan goes into the kitchen to take those things.

"I woke up with a dog on my face," Butters says.

"Oh Leo, what a shame," Kyle says, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

I laugh.

"No worry, Butterfly. It's a dog just wanting to either get out or wanting attention," I say.

Stan comes back, giving his dad the things he offered.

"So. Game is tomorrow," Stan says.

"Yeah. I'll totally come, I actually got to go to 'see, if there is too much conflict and to resolve it.' We all know, why I want to be there," Butters says.

Stan nods, looking at the clock.

"Fuck. We should get going," he says.

"Oh yeah, snow," I say.

"I just mean, there is so much snow that going on the bus might even be slower," Stan says.

Kyle nods, opening the door. The cold air immediately comes in.

"Weird. Just four nights ago, it was fairly warm," Butters says.

"Climate change, Leo, that's all I can say," Kyle says.

I start putting my shoes on.

"Would you please go? It's too cold," Randy says.

"Sorry dad," Stan says, putting his other shoe on.

I nod, leaving outside.

"The games are inside. Right?" Butters asks.

"Fuck. I think so?" Kyle asks.

"They wouldn't make us play in the cold," I say.

"We've had to do it before with you always having the goddamn gym. We normally would practice throws, but all of us, at one point, have broken one part of our body," Kyle says.

"Well sorry that we are at the gym," Stan says, rolling his eyes.

"Isn't football pretty much everyone just being crazy after a ball? Why can't you play it outside? I don't understand," Kyle says.

"It's a tactical game," I say.

"Or is it just strength? From, what I see, it's literally trying to get a ball in one direction," Kyle says.

"One direction? Don't use the shittiest bands name in a sentence about the best game," Stan says.

"Is one direction even a thing anymore?" Kyle asks.

"Didn't they all break up? Yeah, i think they did. It was years ago anyway. I wouldn't remember," I say.

"But anyway. What's basketball, if our game is strength?" Stan asks.

"Basketball, letting you know, is all about doing everything as a team and unlike your little game, about using light and fast steps and then using strength and planning skills to get the ball into the hoop," Kyle says.

"To be honest, both of those sound stupidly complicated or just boring," Butters says.

"What sports do you like?" I ask.

"Wife carrying, but baseball is fun enough, which Craig agrees with me about," Butters says.

"Wife carrying? Kyle, come here," I say.

"No. Stan, save me," Kyle says.

I take a hold of Kyle and raise his a little, walking a couple of steps.

"There," I say.

"Fucking asshole, that hurt," Kyle says.

"You're really light. Stan, try. He is surprisingly light for being so tall," I say.

Stan takes a hold of Kyle and rises up.

"Holy shit. I've lifted weights heavier than you," Stan says, putting Kyle down.