Butters' heart pounds in his thin chest, and he can taste bile starting to pool in the back of his throat. If he was going to throw up, he almost wished it would happen already, but dinner remained an uncomfortably heavy knot in his stomach that occasionally tipped over at the most inopportune moments. His mother had made meatloaf tonight---Butters favorite---but he had been so nervous about the dance that he had barely tasted it. Getting through the family meal had been truly agonizing. Butters carried most of the conversation during dinner time, trading his parents' feigned interest for genuine encouragement as he chatted about school, the stupid shows he watched on TV, the local news, anything. He talked so much that he often found himself stuttering, one unrelated non-sequitur flowing seamlessly into the next, until he had no idea what he was rambling on about. Butters didn't care. He liked to talk, and it was better than the alternative---silently consuming Mom's special meatloaf while desperately trying to pretend there were no oceans between them. Butters did his best to keep up appearances, but he was just too worried. After twenty minutes, Linda Stotch finally noticed, focusing her gaze on her only child. “Honey, is everything okay?” Butters had jumped in alarm, belatedly realizing that he had been staring silently at his plate for the past few minutes. Stupid. “Y-yes, mom! I am fine. I'm fine, really!" "Are you sure? You look a little...tired." "I'm starting to see dark circles under my eyes, that's it." Stephen observed, scrutinizing Butters closely. It seemed like the only time his parents had spoken to each other these days was when they were arguing of the last... half of a paper Butters... slept, building up his energy to deal with whatever Eric Cartman had in mind for him, but he was too high to sleep. Butters floated in a euphoric daze from the which he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up. He sat on the floor next to the bed, with a stunned grin on his face. In his hands was $2500 dollars, his share of the prize money that the Titty Twisters won after sweeping away. the dance. Two hours had passed, and he still couldn't believe it. Butters carefully stuffed the money into his backpack and then stuffed it under the bed. He quickly reconsidered and ended up stuffing the money into the mattress, where it would stay until he found it a better place to hide them. Satisfied, Butters found himself reaching for his journal, skipping the final entries onto a blank sheet of paper. Note from Ben Affleck/: We won. We won.