Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

In It For The Long Haul	By : saiyanqueenvega Category: +S through Z > South Park Views: 3984 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
In it for the Long Haul
Chapter 6:
“You Hit Me Because You're Right”
Chapter Rating:
PG-13
Story Notes:
Get ready to see some serious violence this chapter guys!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kenny’s POV
As I lean back in my chair in the last class of the day I can’t help but think back on all that has happened in the last four months. It’s Friday, January 8^th today, the last day of our first semester. None of the teachers have any homework for us today and have mostly just let us piss away the day doing whatever. Today seems like a perfect day to reflect on the past while I await my end of term grades.
If there’s one thing that I’ve learned so far this year it’s been that I'm a firm believer in karma. Or at least I like to think that my life for the past few months has been a result of good karma. Of course if someone had told me a year ago that my popularity in high school would be determined by becoming friends with someone like Pip I would have kicked them in the nuts for bull-shitting me. I mean, who would have thought that our little group’s fate would be decided by three quick movements of Pip’s arm and an asshole that everyone hated named Rick Winters? But that’s exactly what happened.
Pip didn’t know what to do with himself for a while. But he never let the popularity he’d gained for decking the biggest douche in North Park go to his head. I mean, sure he went to a fair number of parties to make up for all the ones he hadn’t been invited to in the past, but he never distanced himself from us. He knows that the popularity he gained won’t last forever and he is sticking to those who have proved they’ll have his back...
Stan ended up getting to join the football team. He was the first South Parker to be accepted onto the team in the last ten years. He was our second string quarterback, number 42, for the whole incredible season ending in a respectable third place in our high school division...
Wendy made up for all the friends she ended up losing to what we’ve dubbed ‘the great Pip rift’ and then some. It seems that she’s finally found some friends that are on the same level that she is here...
Kyle did exactly what we all knew he would do. He basked in the popularity for a few days and then stuck his nose right back into his textbooks.
As for Eric and me... we soaked everything up like a couple of sponges. We watched with detachment as Craig got his ass beaten in the typical anti-South Park style, hung out at every party we could possibly cram into our schedule, and enjoyed all the hospitality that the town of North Park had to offer a couple of students that weren’t on the enemy list. But we also spent a lot of nights with just the two of us at his house studying. I think I enjoyed those nights better than the parties...
“Kenny McCormick” my Study Hall supervisor calls, neatly cutting off my daydreaming. I rush to his desk and he hands me a folded computer print out with my name written on it. I hear him call out Eric’s name after mine, going down the row, but I tune it out. I’m too intent on reading my grades.
Student: McCormick, Kenneth
Grade: 9
Semester: 1
Normal level History: A
Developmental level Chemistry: C+
Advanced level English: A+
Normal level Physics: B-
Normal level Algebra: B-
Developmental level Speech: D
PE-Boys: B
Writing: A+
Study Hall: N/A
I read it over again a second time to make sure I’m not dreaming and then proceed to do a victory dance in my chair. I can’t believe it! I passed Speech. Thank you Jesus!
“What the hell is that supposed to be” Eric snickers, sitting back down with his grades.
“I passed Speech. And this is the patented McCormick victory dance of joy.” I retort and then go back to dancing in my chair. I continue for about a minute before I can feel Eric staring at me. “Well?”
“What can I say man, you’re a god.” He breaks out a huge grin. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He hands me his grades and then snatches mine from the table in front of me.
Student: Cartman, Eric
Grade: 9
Semester: 1
Developmental level History: C
Normal level Chemistry: A
Advanced level English: C+
Developmental level Physics: C
Developmental level Algebra: C-
Normal level Speech: A
PE-Boys: D
Youth Psychology: B+
Study Hall: N/A
“Damn dude, why didn’t you tell me you were like a chemistry wiz? I mean you’ve always been good at public speaking so that was a given but... an A in Chemistry!” I slap my best friend on the back in congratulations.
“I was actually more focused on the English grade. Do you think that I can get $50 out of Kyle today on the way home?” he asks me, already calculating what he’s going to buy with Kyle’s money. He deserves every penny too. At the beginning I thought that his bet with Kyle was just beyond Eric’s abilities to win. His slow reading was a crutch that we had to spend nearly 30 hours a week overcoming. And I spent the night in Eric’s room more often than in my own when we had midterms and finals in English, helping him cram all of the assigned books into his head.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Eric and I head to our lockers after the final bell he is bouncing ideas off of me about what to spend his money on. He has chosen to ignore my warning that Kyle doesn’t technically have to give him any money until June 3^rd in favor of inventorying everything he wants that costs $50.
“So what are the plans for this weekend?” I ask trying to steer his thoughts in a different direction.
“Well mom has another checkup in Denver tonight, so I’ll be there for the whole night...” I spin the combination on my locker and pop it open in silence. “Other than that I don't have any plans until that party at Lee's tomorrow night. Why?” I dump everything into the top of my locker and snatch the sweatshirt that I use as a jacket out of the bottom.
“I... I suppose that I’ll just end up going home and writing some poetry or something tonight then.” The thought of going home instead of spending time with Eric makes my stomach queasy for some reason. But I try my best to erase the miserable look from my face by the time I pull my head through my huge green ‘jacket’, but I’ve apparently done a poor job of it.
“Well your coming with us too dumbass” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, shoving me along toward the door and the waiting bus. “We’re leaving as soon as I get home, and we won’t get home until around midnight. I’d rather have someone along to talk to than sit alone in that damn waiting room. I fucking hate hospitals.”
I’m smiling again by the time we board the bus home. As we walk down the isle toward the back seats I notice, with a no small bit of satisfaction, that Token is sporting like the 4^th black eye he’s gotten this year. I slide into the last set of seats and Eric drops next to me. Pip and Wendy are already sitting there talking.
“Hey Kenny, hey Cartman” Wendy greets us.
“Eric, Kenneth! How did you chaps fare with your end of semester grades?” But before either of us have a chance to answer Pip, Stan rushes onto the bus followed by Kyle. They both scowl at us for taking their favorite seats before taking the spots in front of us.
“Alright Cartman lets see it” are the first words out of Kyle’s mouth. Eric quickly plasters a very convincing unhappy look on his face.
“Look Kyle... I don’t have the money, alright. Can we work out a...payment plan or something?” I have to give Eric props for fabulous acting. If I hadn’t already seen his C+ I would have thought he’d lost his bet too.
“No way Cartman. You lost, and you’re going to have to just march your ass home and break into your savings jar or something. Our deal was that you’d pay me $100 if you didn’t get a C or better in English.” He pauses for a moment and reconsiders. “I guess I could be talked into just $50 up front. That’s all the slack I’m willing to give you... If you don’t get the grade by the end of the year you’ll still owe me the rest!” Eric pulls his grade sheet out of his pocket and heaves a sigh. It’s all I can do to stop myself from laughing.
“Fine Jew. I suppose that IS only fair. Here. Read it out loud for all I care.” He hands Kyle the sheet. Stan cranes his neck to read it too. It’s about fifteen seconds of both sets of eyes darting back and forth before the smirk falls from Kyle’s face. I see Stan’s eyes dart up to meet Eric’s. A quick smile flashes on his lips before he goes back and re-reads it again just to be sure he’s seen things correctly.
Kyle’s face goes through shock, then anger, and finally rests at a neutral expression for several moments before he bursts out laughing. “Cartman, you’re such an asshole.” he laughs.
“What does it say?” Wendy asks looking confused.
“Advanced level English. C+.” Kyle reads, still laughing a bit. He looks back up at Eric with something akin to respect shining in his eyes. “You did it?”
“Yep, I did it. And I believe you owe me $50.” Kyle doesn’t even hesitate before digging his wallet out of his back pocket. I can hear Pip, Stan, and Wendy congratulating Eric but I’m too engrossed in the look on his face to really listen. This proud look. This happy look. This look that only I had ever seen on his face before this....
Kyle pulls out two twenties and a ten and holds them out. “It’s worth it to see you finally try at something Cartman” he says before placing them in Eric’s hand.
We spend the rest of the ride home reading each other’s grades and talking about what our parents will say.
Stan was feeling confidant about everything except his Environmental Studies grade...
Student: Marsh, Stanley:
Grade: 9
Semester: 1
Normal level History: B
Normal level Chemistry: B
Normal level English: B
Normal level Physics: C+
Advanced level Algebra: B-
Normal level Speech: B+
PE-Boys: A+
Environmental studies: D+
Shop: A
Wendy and Pip were both sailing pretty smoothly through everything and didn’t have any worries.
Student: Testaburger, Wendy
Grade: 9
Semester: 1
Advanced level History: A
Normal level Chemistry: B-
Advanced level English: B+
Advanced level Physics: A-
Advanced level Algebra: A
Advanced level Speech: A+
PE-Girls: B
Environmental studies: A
German: B
Student: Pirrip, Philip
Grade: 9
Semester: 1
Advanced level History: A+
Normal level Chemistry: B
Advanced level English: A
Normal level Physics: C+
Normal level Algebra: B
Advanced level Speech: B+
PE-Boys: B
Spanish: A
European History: A
And of course no one was really all that shocked at Kyle’s grades. He IS the study bug of our group after all.
Student: Broflowski, Kyle
Grade: 9
Semester: 1
Advanced level History: A
Advanced level Chemistry: A+
Advanced level English: A
Norman level Physics: A-
Advanced level Geometry: A
Advanced level Speech: A+
PE-Boys: A-
Health Studies: A
Biology 9: A+
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cartman’s POV

There are only two feelings in the world better than the feeling of knowing that I have Kyle’s money in my pocket. The feeling I had when I first read that English grade... and the feeling of being in love, as gay as that sounds. The feeling of being in love was a short lived thing really, and having a crush on Stan’s girlfriend was probably not one of my shining moments. But once Wendy worked through her ‘sexual tension’ life went back to normal, or as normal as things could get back then. And I got over the feeling fairly quickly too after being forgotten.
But I’m going to hold on to this new feeling of triumph and achievement. The feeling of proving to all my friends that I am not stupid... I know that I probably have a ridiculous grin on my face as Kenny and I trudge through the snow toward my house but I can’t make myself care. I’m on top of the world. I have $50, I have the respect of the only five people I’d ever call friends, I’ve got a weekend free from homework, I have Kenny, and I have an invite to an awesome sounding party on Saturday night.
“And you thought he wouldn’t cough it up Kenny” I say, crinkling the three bills in my pocket.
“Are you going to try to spend it while we’re in Denver?” he asks me as we turn up the walkway to my front door.
“Probably. I’d rather do anything than wait inside that place. I’ve been in hospitals way too much for a 15 year old. I was thinking of picking up a few more games for my Playform 64.” I still keep the gaming system that predates Stan’s Gamesphere because the games are still pretty cool, and you can pick up cartridges for only $10. I swing the front door open and the two of us enter quickly to escape the cold.
“Is that you snookems?” Mother calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah mom. Me and Kenny, he’s going to come along.” We enter the kitchen to find Mom sitting at the kitchen table making sandwiches. “You didn’t have any of those did you mom? You know you can’t have anything to eat before those tests” I remind her. I wish she WOULD eat a few sandwiches. She’s lost a lot of weight over the months...
“No sweetie. These are for you and Kenny.” She hands each of us a ham sandwich. Kenny accepts his hesitantly, but chews it down in four bites. Free lunches at school just aren’t enough to fill someone up who doesn’t get anything else at home. I know that half a peanut butter sandwich and milk wouldn’t do it for me... “You can have a second one if you’d like it” she adds, seeing Kenny's first sandwich disappear so fast. Kenny obliges, grabbing a second sandwich.
“We got our grades today mom” I blurt out, unable to contain the need to feel that happy feeling again as it begins to flit away. I pull the sheet out of my pocket again. “Here.”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kenny’s POV

I feel a bit like I’m intruding, chewing away at a sandwich while Eric’s mom reads over his grades. I try my best to blend in with the wallpaper as a mother showers her son with praise while a feeling of pride wells up inside me. I slip silently from the kitchen to the entryway closet and retrieve a downy coat. After giving them a few more moments I call back to them. “Come on you guys. We don’t want be late.” Both of them emerge from the kitchen and I hold up Ms. Cartman’s winter coat for her to put on.
“You’re such a good boy Kenny” she says as she pulls her arms into the sleeves. “But you’re going to need a jacket too. Especially if you two plan on going out while you wait on me. Eric sweetie can you get your little friend one of your old jackets? I’ll start the car.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Eric wasn’t kidding when he said we wouldn’t be getting back into town until really late, or early depending on how technical you want to be. At 1:18 in the morning we pull up in front of the hovel I’m forced to call home. I don’t really want to be here, I’d rather stay tonight at Eric’s. They really need someone right now after hearing more bad news... HE needs me.
When we’d finally met back up with Ms. Cartman in the hospital waiting room at 10:00 she’d been as pale as a ghost and looked too disheartened to even try to put on a cheerful face. The doctor explained to us that the chemical treatments she had been getting to try to slow the diseases’ development hadn’t worked, that the virus had developed an immunity. He told us that Liane Cartman was looking at one year, two at the most, left judging by the rapid spreading.
I’d felt sick, like I wanted to vomit but couldn’t. I had to watch Eric brake down for the second time in my life. But this was much worse than the first time. The look in his eyes was like someone had just swept everything he held dear out from under him and scraped his heart out of his chest. It looked like a physical force had hit him. He simply crumpled into a chair wide eyed, too crushed to even cry. So I did. I cried. Ironically, Eric’s mother was the one that took the news the best.
The ride back to South Park seemed like the longest three hours of my life. Eric sat in the back with me, stiff as a board and staring ahead, unblinking. After about half an hour of watching him like that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pulled his head into my lap and stroked his hair like I’d seen done to comfort a child once on TV. After a few minutes he started to shutter slightly and I could feel tiers dampen my pants. He eventually fell into sleep, leaving me to think. Was there any way that I’d feel like this about anyone in my family? …No, I decided. They didn’t really care about me the way Eric’s mother loved him. But I cried for her because she was the family I wanted. And I would cry like this for Eric because...
That moment, riding back from the hospital was most likely not the best time for the revelation that I had. I suppose you just can’t control things like that... But I’d felt the need to clarify any doubts about my sanity, and there was only one person I could really talk to at the time.
“Ms. Cartman?” I asked quietly as to not wake Eric.
“What is it dear?”
“If someone was in love with your son...do you think that person would be able to see him through all this?” I saw her eyes flicker to me in the rearview mirror.
“I think so... I suppose that he’ll need someone to help him when… I’m gone.” She sounded like she was finding it difficult to talk about it. “But… he has you. You’ll help him when I can’t, won’t you Kenny?”
“What would you think if… if I was the one in love with Eric?” There. I’d admitted it out loud, and to his mother of all people. I think I’m in love with my best friend. I saw her eyes flick toward me again in the mirror but she didn’t say anything. I craned my neck so that I could see her expression. She was smiling!
And now, more that two hours later, I’m trying to force myself to leave the car. I pull my groggy friend into a hug. “I’m coming over first thing in the morning, alright?” I whisper into his ear. He nods sadly and I let him go, opening the door into the chilly night.
It only takes me seconds to reach the door. As I pull it open I’m not surprised to see the soft flicker of our old television. I close the door behind me and observe Kevin. Stoned again it would seem. There’s nothing THAT attention getting about infomercials. Whatever, he’s stoned at least three nights a week now-a-days anyway. I head strait to my room and strip for bed. If I’m going to get over to Eric’s in the morning I’ll need to get my rest. I pull on my sleeping sweat pants and turn out the light.
I toss and turn for probably 15 minutes before deciding that it’s just too fucking cold in this house. Apparently SOMEBODY spent the heating bill money on beer again. I feel around on my floor until my hand brushes up against Eric’s loaned jacket. I quickly pull it under my sheet and wrestle into it. In a moment I’m much warmer, and as an added bonus I can smell Eric all over the jacket. It doesn’t take long before I drift off to sleep snuggled into it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I’m awakened by the sound of the front door slamming. Oh, it must be 2:00, bar closing time. I close my eyes and try to force myself back to sleep. But a minute later I can here things in the kitchen being slammed around. Dad’s looking for scotch. The noise subsides in a bit. Apparently he’s found something. But the noise has roused my mother because I hear their bedroom door squeak open, followed by her footsteps stomping toward the kitchen. Well shit, there goes any hope of getting any sleep tonight... Shouting starts before I can even finish the thought.
“-lazy ass and find a job instead of going out EVERY night Stuart?!” I pull my pillow over my head in an attempt to shut out the arguing. All I manage to accomplish is to muffle the words. Well all except the really loudly shouted ones...
“.........BITCH.....DRIVING ME TO DRINK....”
“...STUPID..........WORTHLESS.....TWO A.M.....”
“.......NIT PICKING.........LEAVE....”
“..........EXAMPLE.......YOUR SON......ALL NIGHT....” That causes me to snap my eyes back open again. Please Mom! Don’t drag me into this, it’s been a long night. But my hopes are in vain as I hear shuffling footsteps approach my door just before it bursts open.
“What the HELL is this I hear about you staying out all night!!” my father yells as he fumbles for the light switch. Once he finds it I’m blinded momentarily. “Where the fuck WERE you all night?!”
“I should ask you the same thing!” I fire back, rubbing my eyes until I can see properly again. He’s found the Jack Daniels apparently, because he’s got the bottle clutched in his fist.
“Don’t talk back to ME you little shit! I’M 38 years old, you’re only fifteen!” I don’t bother correcting him that I won’t actually be turning fifteen for another five days. “ANSWER ME!”
“I was in Denver with Eric and his mom alright. Let it rest.”
“And you didn’t think to ask US first!” he says taking another step into my room. And I’m so tired I don’t think before I speak.
“You’ve never cared about where I go in the past. And I would have CALLED, but we don’t have a phone!” As soon as the words leave my mouth I wish I could shovel them back in.
“YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BASTARD!” he snarls striding forward and grabbing a hold of my wrist with his empty hand. One heave is all it takes to yank me out from under my sheet and into the air dangling in front of his face from his grip.
“Just let go of me and GO TO BED Dad!” I yell as he scans me with an angry eye. I can smell the foul smell of alcohol on his breath as he begins to seethe with anger.
“WHO’S CLOTHES ARE YOU WEARING YOU DIRTY LITTLE FAG!?” He shakes me back and forth in the air. I claw at the painful grip he has on my wrist but I don’t justify his idiocy with an answer. The painful grip disappears as he tosses me to the floor. I land hard on my shoulder.
“You fucker!” I hiss in pain, dragging myself to my feet, ready to make a run for it.
“I’ve told you before that I won’t STAND for that kind of SICK BEHAVIOR from a son of mine!” His fist connects with my face sending me back onto the floor. I can feel a stream of blood trickle down my nose and I’m suddenly reminded of Eric punching Stan all those months ago. “I Didn’t RAISE you to be a cock sucking FAIRY!” My father continues to yell.
“You didn’t raise me at ALL you asshole!” I accuse as I work my way up onto my knees. I’ll be harder for him to hit if I’m not standing. “YOU WERE TOO BUSY OUT BEING AN OUT OF WORK ALCOHOLIC TO RAISE ME! Eric’s mother raised me better than you ever could ha-” My rant is cut short as he tackles me, leaving me once again flat on my back.
“I WON’T BE TALKED TO LIKE THAT BY A QUEER!!” He grabs a hold of a chunk of my hair and slams my head onto the floor. He does it again, and again, and again. My head feels like it’s about to spilt open and I can feel a wetness in my hair by the time he finally takes a break to continue screeching at me. “ARE YOU FUCKING THAT FAT FREAK OF NATURE? IS THAT WHY YOU’RE ALWAYS TURNING UP IN HIS CLOTHES!? I’LL KILL THAT BASTARD!” Anger boils in my blood. I ball my fist and for the first time in my life I throw a punch at my father. I catch him in the jaw, but it’s not enough to dislocate him from where he’s stooped over me with his hand unoccupied by the J.D. bottle balled in my hair. So I do the only other thing I can think of. I scream right back at him.
“IT’S MY LIFE!! Weather of not I’m sleeping with anyone is NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN FUCKING BUSINESS! But yeah dad, I think I might be GAY! You’re just going to have to deal with it!!” There is this murderous look of hatred in his eyes as he pulls his arm back and slams his fist into my face again. This time he scores on my eye. I bite back a yelp of pain and turn my face to the side to avoid getting my nose broken by the next blow. I struggle to get up and escape him but he throws his weight onto me and pounds his fist into me again. He catches me right in the ear. All I can hear is a ringing sound as he brings his fist up and pounds it into my ear again. After around the sixth time his fist slams into the side of my head the ringing suddenly stops and I can’t help but wonder if he’s finally managed to beat me to death. Will I come back this time?
“Don’t you ignore me!” The yelling sounds strange now somehow... “You’d better take it back! You’d better tell me you’re NOT a fag damn it!” It almost sounds like his voice is coming out of bad speakers or something. Dad apparently takes my silence as defiance because he socks me again. I can feel blood trickling down through my hair, he hits me again. Blood is running down from my cheek, he hits me again. And I can see a pool of red forming on the floor from my ear, he hits me again.
“I....I.” I feel like I’m suffocating but I force out the three most important words I can think of at the moment. “I....love Eric.” The bottle of Jack Daniels that my father has been clinging to this whole time is slammed against my face. I can hear the strangely muffled crash of glass breaking and feel the familiar pain of glass imbedding itself into my skin as things around me go black...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cartman’s POV

When I fell asleep last night I knew that I would be doomed to bad dreams. Luckily for me I can’t really remember any of them in detail now. But I know that they were bad because I feel unrested, like I didn’t sleep at all really. It’s still dark out but the darkness seems to fit my mood... My eyes sweep across my room until I finally let them rest on my clock. 6:13. I wonder if Mom got any sleep last night. I strain my ears, willing them to hear any signs of movement around the house...
People each make different sounds when they sleep, and for some reason when I’m laying awake at night I pick up on the sound easily. I’m told that I’m a classic soft snorer. Kenny makes a tiny whistling noise when he breaths in his sleep. Jew boy sort of hums when he exhales and Stan makes the stereotypical buzz saw noise. Even Pip makes a sort of chirp, though I’m not sure quite how it works. But my mother is a silent sleeper. She doesn’t even really breath loud enough to hear. So after several minutes of listening and hearing nothing I give it up. It’s a lost cause since my door is closed anyway. I throw my covers off and swing my feet to the floor. The light switch eludes me for a short amount of time before the room is showered in brightness and a yawn escapes me as I shuffle quietly into the hallway. Her door is cracked open a bit so I put my eye to it and look in on her. Sound asleep, thank god. But now that I’m up I head for the bathroom to get the taste of unbrushed teeth out of my mouth...
Kenny would be coming over this morning, I remember while brushing. When Kenny says he’s coming over ‘in the morning’ that insane ass munch usually means somewhere around 7:00, even on the weekend when any normal kid would want to sleep in. So after rinsing my mouth out I head to the kitchen in search of omelet ingredients. Making breakfast will keep my mind off of things I’d rather not think about right now...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kyle’s POV

When I was still in 4^th grade I jumped off of my roof to stop a serial killer. Well... actually there was a bit more to it than that. Since the whole police department of our town seemed to think that Cartman was some sort of psychic detective at the time no one would listen to me when I discovered who the killer really was. So I jumped off of a roof, fell into a coma, and then claimed to have psychic powers too. It all worked out how I wanted in the end, except for one thing. Those psychic powers that I made up sometimes seem real.
It only showed up once right after the killer had been caught. I somehow managed to cause a shelf to fall and some light bulbs to explode, but I managed to convince myself that it was some sort of coincidence. After all that’s what ANY so called psychic phenomenon really is, right? But as I’ve gotten older I’ve started to feel things. When something bad happens to someone I’m close to... I can tell somehow without actually having any knowledge of what’s wrong. Like when Cartman’s mother was first diagnosed with AIDS, or when my cousin Kyle was killed in a plane crash. I could FEEL that something awful had happened before we got the terrible phone call. I’ve never told anyone about the strange power. Not even Stan.
But the dream that I just awoke from.... I’m scared and I’m not sure what to do. I try to slow my shuttering breaths and remember all that I can. The dream was about Kenny. Kenny was dying... No, he was being murdered! That sickening feeling that something is wrong with the force is back too, confirming that it wasn’t just some nightmare. What should I do? Shit shit shit!
I throw my sheets away from my body and grab my phone. I dial in the only number I can think of when things concern Kenny and snag a pair of pants off of my floor while I listen to the rings. I’m hopping on one leg while pulling on the pants when I finally get an answer.
“What the hell are you calling my house at...6:30 in the fucking morning for Jew?” I struggle to maintain my balance as I continue to pull on my jeans.
“Cartman you need to meet me at Kenny’s right now!” I finish with the jeans I slip my feet into my bedroom slippers and start groping around for a sweater.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cartman hisses from the other end of the line.
“Something bad has happened to Kenny. Just trust me!!” I sound hysterical, even to myself. Finding a button up shirt, I throw it on. “Just hurry Cartman. I’m leaving right now!” I hang up my phone and race down the stairs. I grab my mother’s cell phone from the charger and my jacket and race out the door, praying that Cartman takes me seriously enough to come.
It’s below freezing, I realize as I’m exposed to the air outside. I fumble to pull my hood around my head as I sprint toward the poor side of town. I can feel water seeping through my slippers after a few blocks but ignore it. I can’t get the image of Kenny in a puddle of blood out of my mind... As I reach Cartman’s street I see him exit his house ahead of me. Fore some reason the feeling of dread I’ve been feeling lessens slightly at the sight. He starts jogging in the direction I’m headed and I call out to him. He slows and allows me to catch up.
“Kyle I swear if this is some sort...of Jewish April Fools.. sort of thing I’ll kick you in the nuts!” But under the harsh words I can see worry on his face, along with signs that he didn’t get much sleep last night.
“Just call it a feeling I have Cartman. If I’m wrong you can have a free shot.” We run the last blocks to the train tracks in worried silence.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Poor Kenny…. That’s all for this chapter. I know, I know. Another cliff hanger. Sorry. But stay tuned for the next installment… Chapter 7: ‘The Thought Provoking Poetry of Kenny McCormick’
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

In It For The Long Haul