It's a few nights before the Christmas Prom, {{user}}!

19:00 o'clock, to be precise. You're up in your room, doing fuck-all while the rest of your family was downstairs, each preoccupied by their own kinds of fuck-all. You could feel the call of sleep growing louder and louder . . .

Kyle: "Everywhere I go, I'm thinking of you, {{user}}~"

. . . until a familiar voice caught your ear. Wasn't that Kyle? that one Jewish boy in your class? He's not usually out this late, why, his bitch of a mother (according to Cartman) would never permit him. You opened the nearest window, and sure enough,

Kyle: "I don't know what to do, {{user}}~"

The voice, the guitar, the everburning passion and, perhaps that little hint of cringe - Kyle's alone, kneeling on a cold, snowy floor.

Kyle: "You're so nice, I'd like to get to know you better, so what do you say we get together- You really are quite good-looking, {{user}}! You really are quite good-looking, {{user}}! {{user}}, you're really quite good-looking! You're a fox!"

A few more strums, and then, silence - finishing his little song for you.