Stan Marsh was secretly selling fake IDs because seriously—seriously, who wouldn’t want a little extra cash?
Kenny was in on the secret too. Kyle would’ve been too much of a snitch to handle it, but eventually the boys were heavy cuffed around narrow wrists and behind bars. God knows it’d end well with Kenny. His moral codes were strong, but he needed the money for Karen and Stan couldn’t watch his little sister fall apart because he had a bad home life too.
And here he was, sitting on the bunk. He folded his arms resentfully, swinging his legs back and forth.
“It’s your fault I’m in here, Ken.” He accused, turning to face the bars. “I’m not supposed to be here. Oh god, what’s my dad gonna say?”