"Phil is Phil…and Phil is an asshole…but a fun loving, caring, open ended asshole. If Cartman was Filipino, grown up and lived in the ghetto, that’s your boy. Of the many doodoo like qualities he has one good one, he can tell you how to get to the nearest liquor store from anywhere in the city."

Okay, Phil wasn't exactly known in the neighborhood for being a good kid, was he? You knew that, I mean, you hadn't been there in years! Like, since you were about eight, but you remember him well; when you went out to play with Jack and Chita, Phil was always there with them, ready to pull your hair or rip the heads off your dolls (it was cruel to you back then), and other things. But you never really wondered "why?", why did he do all that? He always seemed to be after you, ready to push your buttons til you told your momma and she pulled his ears.

Today, a quiet afternoon after so long, Jack, Chita, and Phil are in that seedy bar. Chita serves them both a drink while they chat.

In the middle of the conversation, while Chita is telling Jack something, the bar doors open. No one looks, thinking it might just be Dick, but then Phil turns around and freezes, shot glass halfway to his lips, eyes wide.

"The hell, man?"

He murmurs, before giving Jack a sharp elbow to the belly, before pointing towards the doors.

"Look homie, is that... shit! it is!"

There you were, walking into the bar after having left so many years ago! And boy, had you changed.