#LIKE GENUINELY SO KIND AND GOOD SORRY I KEEP NERFING U BABY

[boxwinebaddie]

ok i am salty that i had to cut my favorite flashback out of pep 13 because it was too long already, so if you want it, here is sweet sixth grade stan marsh saves the corner store ( next the world! )

depression tw gun tw ( i think that’s it )

Raj remembered it like it was yesterday.

He was flanked on all sides by broken glass with the brick they’d used to break his store window taunting him at his feet. Dented cans and busted bottles piled around the store, lifeless like bodies…as lifeless as his eyes were when he took the excruciating death march back to the cash register that had been raided by reckless, rabid, rabble rousing high school boys.

…Everything was gone down to the penny…including his wedding band.

The only thing in that heap of shit that had true value to the shopkeeper.

They’d left his drawer untouched. How very kind of them. Where next to a picture of his slaughtered family lay the very thing that slaughtered them. To protect the store. Which was no more. As he held it in his hands, though he wasn’t a particularly funny man, he humored a dark thought as he took off the safety, lifted it to his temple, ready to meet his family and his maker

When…

Ding-Dong!

“CAN’T YOU READ? THE SIGN SAYS WE’RE CLOSE— ”

“Oof. Not very well, unfortunately.”

The voice had admitted sheepishly.

“My teacher said I have to take remedial English next semester…But! Oh! I’m sorry, sir! I had no idea. I was just riding my bike home when I heard a commotion, so I wanted to make sure that everything was alrig—“

Gulp.

Raj had frozen in fear because a pair of…alarmingly large eyes the color of sapphires were staring down the barrel of his gun. The preteen had dark hair and a small white scar just above his left eyebrow. He was wearing a boy scout uniform and a little green bracelet that had been woven with great skill and gentle care…one that…Raj feared he’d have to be b u r i e d with.

The strange boy opened his mouth slowly.

And for a second, he was a little worried the kid might scream and the cops would come running. After all, a middle aged, brown shopkeeper holding…a defenseless, mostly white he presumed, the kid was kind of racially ambiguous, middle school boy…at gunpoint wasn’t the best look.

…But he just sighed in relief, looking totally elated.

“W h e w! Thank god. You know, I was totally going to flunk my math test tomorrow.”

Raj was dumbstruck.

What…the fuck? Was this kid forreal? If he was then he wasn’t very good at school or pleading for his life, evidently.

“ — But, uh, ‘scuse me, Mister? I don’t mean to be inconvenient or anything; I’m not really sure how these things work or if you get one phone call like when they put you in jail…But would you mind waiting a second so I can call my mom?”

I don’t mean to be…inconvenient? He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. The boy digressed.

“This isn’t one of those ‘You let me call my Mom, but I actually call the police’ type of things, I swear. I’m a Boy Scout and Boy Scouts never lie!” He pointed to his sash with a big, proud grin.

“It’s just…It’s Lasagna Night, sir, and if she knows I won’t be there, she won’t have to make the meatless one with the vegan cheese in it that she makes special just for me. It’ll…It’ll save her a lot of time and trouble. Please?”

Then the kid shot the shopkeeper with a fake, nervous finger gun, which was a very stupid thing to do when someone was pointing a very real, loaded gun at you, but his humility and candidness had completely disarmed the man with the firearm.

Figuratively and Literally.

— Because Raj had stopped pointing the gun at Stan — he had, however, started sobbing hideously and piteously into his sleeve, to which most people would get uncomfortable or start to freak out, unsure of how to navigate such a strange, sullen and…snotty human emotion. But Not Stan. No. Never Stan. Who had thrown a hand over his shirt pocket in faux surprise and breezed a beautiful, pleasant laugh which was closely followed by the comic relief went with saying,

“Oh man, I always knew I was ugly, but I didn’t know I was t h a t ugly!”

Shortly after, Raj wordlessly watched as out of the goodness of his heart, the strange child knelt down on the dirty, dusty floor of the store and started picking up huge shards of glass…

…with his bare hands.

“Here, I’ll help you. Trust me, this is nothing.” He lowered his voice, wincing.

“You should see my room.”

To which Stan started helping the older man spruce up his store, setting things back on shelves, sweeping, singing along to songs that he put on his Spotify playlist…until the place was spotless.

Devraj Vishwakumar could tell exactly what type of person Stanley Marsh was by the things he had placed on the hard plastic check out counter.

A bag of treats for his dog, Sparky,

A pack of cigarillos for his father ( Stan had told Raj that he personally didn’t endorse smoking or anything that harmed human beings or the planet, but he had also said he didn’t really have a choice in the matter and didn’t breathe a word more about it after that ),

— A large bag of sour gummy worms, a medium sized Fresa and a small bag of Chewy Chips Ahoy cookies for his very dear, but ‘annoying’ ‘super’ ( genius ) best friend who had diabetes but was too stubborn to monitor his sugar intake,

A Home and Garden magazine for the little old lady who lived down the street, but had a hard time walking to the store on account of her multiple sclerosis,

And two bouquets of flowers, one of which was for his mother, who he loved very much.

In assessing the amalgamation of things on the counter, Raj’s brow furrowed. For His Mysterious, Middle School Boy Scout Benefactor had bought something for everyone

…everyone but himself.

He’d remembered asking the helpful preteen if he wanted to get himself anything at all from the store and that if he did, of course, it was on the house like everything else was for saving the shop and his life, but Stan simply shook his head, shrugging earnestly and effervescently.

“Getting stuff for other people makes me happy. Buying stuff for myself makes me feel ‘weird’ and really, I have everything I could possibly want! I live in a nice house. I have a family who have their ups and downs, but at the end of the day, are mine. I have lots of friends who, for the most part, care a lot about me, even if some of them have a funny way of showing it.”

“I…I live a good life, sir. What more could I possibly need?”

He’d proclaimed with the biggest smile on his face, but if one listened closely, there was the smallest hitch in his lovely, singsong voice, a note of sad, stinging pain that he hadn’t quite swallowed back in time, trapped behind his teeth. See, the boy with the big, kind, sky blue eyes hadn’t bought anything that day because he wanted something that Raj couldn’t sell him.

Stanley Marsh wanted desperately to be happy.

And unfortunately, money could not buy happiness.

Attempting to change the subject, the shopkeeper had asked if the other bouquet was for the boy’s girlfriend, to which Stan had cringed visibly, looking a little embarrassed. “She broke up with me a couple days ago..”

“I guess it was our anniversary. I forgot…Not my brightest and shiniest moment as a boyfriend. And don’t get me wrong, she’s totally the best and I miss her to death already…but Mister, you reeeeally gotta give her a cool down period before you try barking up that tree again. Trust me.”

Now, while forgetting you and your girlfriend’s anniversary, the store keeper reasoned, would have been a very compelling reason for anyone else’s girlfriend to break up with them, Stan had explained offhandedly to Raj that he and his ex-girlfriend, soon to be current girlfriend again, Wendy Testaburger had broken up over twelve times since they were eight, so the date of their anniversary changed almost every year. It was getting hard for him to keep track. Poor kid.

The second bouquet, Stan had clarified, was not for someone who was special in Stan’s life, but for someone who was special in the life of the convenience store clerk.

“For your wife.” Stan’d said with a flash of white teeth. Raj shook his head. “Your husband?” He offered. No such luck. “Your boyfriend? Girlfriend?” His smile faltered at the uncomfortable silence. “Children?” The silence deepened and deafened. But Stan filled it. He held the bouquet out to the disgruntled man with a goofy grin. “For you, then.” He winked and Raj laughed.

The stony-eyed shopkeeper was not a man who usually opened up, but he felt safe with the young stranger, whose kind and wholesome spirit reminded him so much of his lost son.

Speaking of…

“I lost everything. All I have is the store.” He admitted morosely. “Other than that I have nothing. I have nobody.”

To which Stan held his palm up as if to say ‘hold on a second’, before he had zipped! over to the freezer section and slapped something down on the counter enthusiastically. He gaped unwittingly at the old man, hand on his hip, like he was being totally unreasonable. It was so theatrical and cartoonish due to the dilation of the boy’s eyes that it was almost comical to Raj.

“That’s so not true!” He protested playfully. “You have me…”

Stan gestured to the item he had placed on the counter with a dramatic flourish.

“...And Ben and Jerry. See, that’s three people!”

Ice Cream.

Stan had placed a tub of ice cream on the corner store counter.

Now, Stan didn’t really like sweet things — he was sweet enough as it was — but he’d always made an exception for p e p p e r m i n t which cooled his mouth down, but also made him feel like he was breathing fire.

Mint chocolate chip was his favorite because it made his lips tingle and always numbed the pain. It was also his favorite color. Green. Like his super best friend’s eyes. And just as outwardly cold, but internally comforting.

With that in mind, he’d offered a kind, listening ear to Devraj, who owned the corner store and several secret solitary sadnesses — as well as a slightly bent, kind of sticky, plastic Taco Bell spork so he could eat his feelings. It was pretty gross, but terribly touching.

His unlikely boy-hero had thoughtfully and patiently attended to Raj as he relayed his tale of woe. His humble beginnings in India, his opportunistic trip to America which had soured when tragedy struck and his wife Jiya and his son Kiran, who was about Stan’s age, were violently murdered in a robbery just days before Raj had pooled the store’s entire savings into buying their plane tickets. He’d told Stan the shop had fallen into debt…and now victim to thieves…but that he was very relieved and grateful that Stan had stumbled upon his store and saved the day.

That, again, speaking of, the man had ended by saying…

“Hey kid, I didn’t catch your name.”

The ‘kid’ in question perked up, laughing a little.

He’d told Raj he could be pretty forgetful sometimes.

“Oh! It’s Stan. Stan Marsh. Well, Stanley, I guess, if you’re feeling formal, which, please don’t. You’ll make me nervous! Haha. Uh, Marsh, comma, Stanley when we're taking attendance or if you’re super fucking — sorry — super freaking OCD like Kyle Pile is. Stanley Randall William Marsh on my birth certificate or if my mom is really mad at me — I’m super late, so that's what the flowers are for — but my Dad is kind of a tool, so if it were my choice, I’d be Stanley William Nakumura Kimble which is my grandpa’s first name, Sobo Mimi’s maiden name, that’s my grandmother, and my Mom’s maiden name,

But…Just Stan to my friends.”

“You can call me S t a n.”

He’d raised a fist up for Raj to bump.

“But wait! Before I go: I want to give you something.”

Raj squinted as he spoke.

“There’s this thing my super best friend and I always tell each other when we're feeling low and life isn’t going the way we want it to. It always helps me feel better when I’m feeling sad and, well, I—I thought it might help you too.”

The boy’s voice was whimsical and wonderful.

“From all the pain you that you feel,

All the suffering you have endured,

And all the hardship you will face in this lifetime and the next…

Past, Present or Future.

Mr. Vishwakumar,

I hope you h e a l.”

With that, the selfless and kindhearted boy had done something quite unexpected. He’d reached across the counter and wrapped the troubled old man running the store in a gentle, but tender embrace, then drew a small, thoughtful heart on the back of his shoulder blade with his finger.

That was ‘Stan’.

However…This was surely NOT the thoughtful boy, the prize of their neighborhood, who had come in the very next day beaming bright as he returned Raj’s stolen ring. That day the man manning the helm of the corner store had cautiously asked him if he had done something bad to get it back to which Stan had told him that he’d just threatened to tell the high schooler’s moms and they fessed up to everything. He hadn’t even lifted a finger. He was into nonviolence.

He’d said:

“I’ve found that when you speak softly people have to listen closer to what you’re saying plus…” He winked. “I hate yelling, don’t you?”

This could not be the same boy who had pawned his PS3 to get Raj’s ring out of the pawn shop then started a GoFundMe and school wide fundraiser to ‘Save the Corner Store’...which he did in fact, save the store…twice. And every single day he came through that door.

He was Raj’s saving grace.

That was the sweet, soft, special Stanley Marsh…who was like a son to him.

But the boy behind the counter was a stranger.

#flashback #I LOVED THIS FLASHBACK I WAS MAD #ALSO STAN IS SO CUTE AND SO UNSERIOUS WITH HIS LIFE HES MY ANGEL BOY #LIKE GENUINELY SO KIND AND GOOD SORRY I KEEP NERFING U BABY