In case you don’t know I’m not too bright. Maybe because I’m blonde. A complete understatement. For me, anyways. I’m clumsy. Not really that good looking either. To me, anyways. Most of all, bad luck seems to follow me everywhere. Definition of ‘accident prone.’ Some times it feels like the big guy in the sky has it out for me. But seeing as I’m still alive, he must not want me that much. Maybe he just likes to watch me suffer. So far, I had to go to the hospital three times this month. All together I have seventeen scars, and that’s only on my right arm. A million minor cuts, and so many bruises I don’t even want to get into it. Life hates me. My parents aren’t all that rich either. We would if getting into fights was a job. I really don’t like getting into dept with it though. Makes me sick thinking about it sometimes, ya know? My theory in life sometimes, is: “If two people spend too much time with each other, it could be as bad as not seeing them at all.” Either way, it causes problems. Everything causes problems actually. No. Life IS the problem. I hate life, and life hates me back. I can tell when one of my parent’s fights start. I’ll probably be in my room, trying to figure out homework I’ll never understand, and one voice is heard. Then another. Soon, things are smashing against the walls, windows, anything. The T.v. is gone, not that I really noticed. But one thing I have noticed is my bedroom door. It’s not there anymore. I miss it. I use to be able to ignore the yells and screams a little and half-ass my way through my homework. But things seem to be getting worse. Normal kids hate going to work. I love it. The day I hit fourteen I got a job. That was my birthday present to me. My parents forgot. I did not remind them, it would only start more problems. I’ll probably say this more than once, but I hate life and life hates me back.
I work at one of those department stores. Ya know, the place you buy hardware: tools, nails, and other junk. I call it junk. It all looks the same to me, weather you plug it in or not. It still looks like it wants to kill me. My stomach turns there, but I manage. It’s a relief compared to home. I get lots of cuts and bruises there. But I don’t do a whole lot. Just take in carts, help people load stuff in their cars, and carry boxes filled with God knows what. Knowing my luck, something that wants to stab me in the chest. I’m happy at the end of my shift though. Cartman usually picks me up around ten and brings me home. He always complains how he had to get up and off his ass to come get me, but I can tell he doesn’t mind. If he did, he wouldn’t. Trust me. He has ever since that one day I walked home at night and got sick. I went to the hospital for a week. He visited me each day after school. He was still complaining then. He drives me to school in the morning too. He usually comes an hour early so we can sit down to eat breakfast. If he doesn’t get breakfast in the morning, his mood is ruined and he gets pissed off more than usual.
I snap out of my own little world. My cheek felt hot and I knew it was red because my palm had been resting on it. My eyes flashed at Cartman. He had asked me something, didn’t he? Damn my short attention span. “What?” I said, dumb as ever. I looked down at the yellow smiley face cookie. The eyes and mouth were iced with hardened brown frosting. I always wondered how they got it that way. Sitting besides me was a mug of coffee, black. I won’t take it any other way. If I did, I would shoot myself. I liked it the way it was. It was bitter, yes, but it would not be ‘coffee’ with all the added stuff in it. Plus, it was cheaper. My ear rang with Cartman’s voice again. I wasn’t paying attention . I missed it again. I shook it off and presented him with one of my plain, Yeah’s. I’ve been spending more time with him, ever since Stan turned goth yet again and Kyle is trying to set him straight. But that’s a different story. The good thing about Cartman was, he didn’t have any intention in changing who he was and what he stood for. I didn’t either. I liked him the way he was, just like my coffee. You take away the very essence of who someone, or something, is, it simply isn’t IT anymore.
Cartman was fat, yes. But not in a bad way. It fit him. It suited him. And the clothes he wore only made it look more natural. He had an all powerful attitude, being bigger only made him look tougher. Meaning, people listened to his ‘authority.’ He has the sunglasses to prove it.
I laugh, thinking about him in those ridiculous glasses. Then, look up at him. He did not seem too happy. ! looked down at my cookie. The cookie did. I picked it up and ate a portion off and lifted my gaze at him. The small café did not have many people in today. Then again, it usually doesn’t. I was rambling on in my head again, wasn’t I? “What?” I asked again.
His disapproval grew even more. He picked up his usual chocolate milk and took a sip out of the bendy straw. He set it down and folded his large hands onto the table. Each finger intertwining perfectly with the others. He could probably squish someone’s skull with those. Ya know, like those Friday the Thirteenth movies? Nah, never mind. You probably wouldn’t. “Kenny, I asked three times already. Is your dumb blonde hair clogging your ears or something?” I could tell he was holding back anger. He voice was shaky, but not loud enough to actually be yelling at me. I heard him this time, but that was not what he was asking me was it? I look down, ashamed. Why did I have to be such a loser? “No, sorry. I just have a lot on my mind, dude.” This was true. I wouldn’t lie to him. He was the only real person I could turn to right now. I scratched my right arm and flinched, forgetting a scrape was there. He sighed, his thick chest moving with the motion. He gave me a tired look, as if he were sick of playing a game. He took another bite out of his pancakes and stood, “I’ll be right back. I have to shit.” With that said, he left me at the table and went for the men’s restroom. I laughed again, this time at Cartman’s openness. If he wanted to, he’d take a shit in front of everyone in this place and not give a damn. I liked that. Well, not watching him take a dump, but the way you could read him perfectly. And you wouldn’t even have to. He would tell you what was on his mind. If something pissed him off, you would know first hand by him. He never kept secrets. Not like me… I took another sip of my coffee. It tasted like hot water and leaves, with a hint of bran kinkiness. It kind of reminded me of gum you chewed too long. But it was satisfying either way. It tastes bad before, after, and during each sip, but there was something about it I could not get enough of. Cartman was going to be awhile. Usually about fifteen minutes. I laughed again. I don’t know why. Maybe it was Cartman . I picked my cookie up and chewed the brown smile off. I was the only one who was suppose to be smiling. I put it down at looked at it. Two little round pieces of frosting. My smile grew. “Boobs,” I whispered pointing to it. Cartman would have laughed too if he were here. Maybe not. Maybe I was just perverted. I admit I was.
Time was going by slow, and I did not have a fancy little cell phone you could flip out and play the little demo game ‘Bejeweled.’ I could not even look through a digital phonebook. The only phonebook I had was in my head. I knew Cartman’s number by heart. I recited the number in my head a few times before a waitress stopped by the table. She took my half eaten cookie plate along with Cartman’s. She held both in one hand, balancing it. I watched amused. It was not long until I was staring at her chest. They were huge, but they weren’t real. I can tell when a rack is real. Take Bebe, THOSE sons of bitches are real. She stared at me and smiled. She was about to say something, probably asking if I needed anything else. I didn’t. “Check please.” I said before she could get a word out. I gave the fake breasted chick a dirty look and tightened my hood with the small orange strings for my defense. She was looking at my face. I hated when people did that. I’m not good looking. I know that. She simply nodded and was on her way.
I snatched my wallet out of my pocket, even if the check was not presented to me yet. I looked inside. A few dollars. I really wanted to surprise Cartman, showing I DID have money to pay for us both, but I didn’t. I watched it with a grimace, like it was my wallets fault I did not have anything inside… hardly. “Put your poor money away,” It was Cartman. He was back. He was staring at me like I offended him or something, “We’re out in public, we don’t need to see you flashing your poor ass money. Now, stick your Goddamn wallet back in your poor ass pants!” He slapped a twenty on the table and went to my side. He was guarding me until I put my money away. I watched him in defeat. There was no arguing with him, but I kind of got the vibe that he did not mind paying for my breakfast either. Like I said, if he didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. I shoved the worn out wallet into my orange pant pocket. “Now, come on. You’ll be late to class AGAIN! Then, I’ll have to drag your poor ass out of detention, AGAIN! If that happens, So help me God, Kenny. I’ll kick you in the nuts!” He wouldn’t. He shouted it anyways to make a scene like he always did. Cartman leaving without a big scene wasn’t logical at all. He left me. I followed. I always did. Like a puppy follows its master. No matter how brutally they are treated, they always are loyal to their master. As I am, loyal to Cartman. He’s really the only one who has listened to my problems. I could tell he was listening, even though he might not show it. Shy? Cartman? Never. He has always just been weak at showing true emotion. Then again, he always says ‘hippies’ are the only ones who show emotion. I don’t want to be a hippy. I heard the little ding from the door. Showing we were outside. I could tell. It was freezing. I walked faster and went to his side and held onto his wide arm. It was warm. He was always warm, to me anyways. I let a few shudders slip by, but my temperature rose a little from the other’s body heat. He didn’t do anything. He never did. Anyone else he would call gay, but he always ignored my touch.
His car beeped. He had an automatic door opener. I ran from him to the passenger’s side and opened the door. I sat down and buckled my seatbelt, holding myself since the car was now cold again. I waited for him to get in too I could cling to him once more.
It was a few seconds after I got in until he got to the door and opened it. The breeze hit my face, but Ignored it for now. He sat down, causing the car to shake a bit. I didn’t mind. I was so use to it by now, I would have never known it did anymore. He shut the door and put the right key into the ignition, starting the car up. The heat was blasting hard out of the vents, but only cold air came from it. Meaning, the car needed to warm up. He twisted the knob until it was to the windshield. The air blasted through the vents of the windshield. My arms wrapped around his one and I rested my head on it. He was so warm. It gave me the chills sometimes. I kinda wish moments like this would never end. I really hated school. Nobody really liked me. The stuck up bitches. It didn’t matter, not as long as I had my best friend. He took his arm away from me. I whined. It wasn’t fair. He was warm. I looked up with a disappointed look. I forced my head by his body, but his hand went to my head first, stopping me. His hand went down, so my chin was resting on his fingers and his large thumb came up and traced the under lining of my eye.
He shook his head, “You didn’t sleep again, did you?” He released my chin and placed his hand on top of the steering wheel. I kind of figured he knew what my answer was.
I didn’t. I think too much. He became aggravated and rubbed at his eyelids, “What am I goin’ to do with you, McCormick?” He gave a petty look my way and searched his pocket for two singles and handed them to me, “At least eat lunch today. I swear, if I find you outside smoking instead, I’ll kill you.” His enthusiasm wasn’t in his sentence like it usually is. It sounded more serious. I shoved his hand away and turned so my back was facing him, “Yeah, whatever.” We were constantly having difficulties with this subject. I hated lunch. No one to sit with. No one, but snobs. I shivered once, more so from the cold. The car seriously needed to warm up faster. “Fine, I give up. I could care less if you starve your little poor ass self.” He flicked the bucks my way anyways and put the car in drive. We were on our way to one of the places I hated most. Note: I said ‘one,’ I hated my home more. After a few minutes of being stubborn, I gave up. It was too damn cold. I turned back around and put my arm around him, laying my head on his soft stomach. It wasn’t that comfortable, but it was comfortable enough. The damn Cd holder between us was jabbing into my side. Without it, it would be like fucking heaven, not that I know what that feels like. My eyes stared at the red coat before I buried my face into the warmth. My eyes closed. I was so damn tired. So fucking, Goddamn tired. Before I knew anything, the car was stopped. We had to be in Hell, I mean, school by now. I pretended I was still sleeping. I wanted to rest as much as I could, and Cartman usually give me five minutes before actually getting out of the car. My hood was pulled off just slightly as he began to massage at my head. My eyes remained closed. I almost laughed. He really thought I was asleep, didn’t he? I could have pissed myself laughing, if it didn’t feel so good. I cuddled closer to his chest, feeling his heartbeat on my forehead. I noticed. It was going a lot faster than usual. I must have pissed him off. But was he still mad at that? Was he even still mad? There were voices outside, not close. Far away. I didn’t want to leave. It actually felt like nothing would kill me when I was close to Cartman, but once we go our separate ways. Then, what? Maybe I was just paranoid. I heard him sigh. His hand lifted. That wasn’t a good sign. I didn’t want to leave this car. I had to, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want him to ‘wake me up.’ I threw my arms around his thick body, well as much as I could. He knew I had to be awake now. “Do we have to?” I muffled out from his jacket. He had to know what I meant. It took him awhile to answer. At first I didn’t think he heard me. I almost looked up to see what was up, but I returned my head to where it was once I heard him, “Yes.” It was that foreign seriousness again. His hand reached the back of my neck and he played with a few strands of my blonde hair. I pulled my body up, but my head felt groggy. I went to go sit in my seat, but instead, fell forward from dizziness. I swung my arms around his neck in defense and landed with my back on his lap. It was a better land than I thought. But looking up, we were face-to-face. When my arms were around his neck, I must have pulled his head down with me. He watched me for awhile. What was he looking at? my sunk in anorexic looking face? That, or the huge bags under my eyes. I let him go and put my hood on. I tightened it so I wouldn’t have Cartman suffer with looking at me. I got out of the car. We were at school. Meaning, all that ‘close friend’ stuff we were doing before had to stop. I wasn’t allowed to hold onto him, or even smile in his direction. Not that anyone could tell. I saw him get out of his car. It beeped, indicating it was locked. He looked my way again before shoving the keys into his pocket. He did not bother taking his hand out from the pocket. Instead, put his other hand in the one on the opposite side. He began walking. I followed. I was sick of this. My life was so repetitive, it wasn’t even funny. Couldn’t anything different happen in my life? Instead, could I just keel over and die? On second thought, I wouldn’t do that to Cartman. He was all I had, and I was all he had. But was this life? Is this all there is? Then, what? Get old, work, sleep, work, sleep, piss, pay bills, work, sleep, sleep, piss again, and die? It made me wonder sometimes. Wondering if there was something more. Something better.
My head bowed a little. I wanted to hold Cartman’s arm. I always feel that at school. It was a wall. An unsaid rule that was made. Something he and I understood perfectly, without words. What would happen if I broke that boundary? What would happen if I broke that rule? Did I want to find out that much? Why? There wasn’t a point. I trailed behind. I always did. I always followed Cartman. There were rare moments when I didn’t, but I usually did. I even agree with him, even when I know he’s wrong and full of shit. The beauty of this friendship was, Cartman’s right. End of discussion. You could say I’m a follower. But who would go against the one person who does everything for you. I was always in his debt, even if he did not expect anything back. “You working tonight?” He said. That must have been his question from before. I heard it loud and clear now. “No,” I shook my head, even if his back was turned to me. I felt stupid after it. I shouldn’t, since he didn’t see. Why was I worried about it then? I continued, “I do tomorrow. Why?” I waited, eager to what he would say next. “You,” He started, not finishing until he looked over his shoulder and his eye contact met with mine, “want to hangout for a lil’? I finally got a second controller so you can play 360 too.” He was always so damn casual. It was all the time too. Well, not all the time. If anyone else was with us he would have said, “Kenny, you’re coming over to muh house. So, get yo poe’ ass over to muh house after schoo’!” Since no one was around, he didn’t feel the need to make it a big deal, I guess.
Either way, I was relieved to hear that from him. Now, I knew I could hang with him until late so I can avoid the fighting. I usually fall asleep there. Next to him, watching t.v. Or a movie. I smiled, but because of my hood, it probably only showed the bottom portion of my eyes rise up. He knew my smile, and I knew his. He knew my answer before I said it. I wanted to hug him, but that was off limits. He broke eye contact now and continued, “After schoo,’ meet me by my car. If I’m not there, just wait.” He always told me this. He acted like I wouldn’t come back after school. It really sucked though, not having any classes with him that is. Made it harder for me to see him. “Of course,” I answered back, watching his back now that I was no longer staring at his eyes. Bored with his back and his red coat my gaze fell lower. His ass looked sweet. His jeans gave it a little lift today. Other days he’d wear baggy ones. But every once in a great while, I’d get my eye candy. If I had it my way, I would glue those pair onto him. It showed off a little more. I liked what he wears under his poofy coat, but I only get to see if I come to his house. Which was today. I wondered what he was wearing. I was smiling like a complete idiot, but no one saw. Since no one CAN see, I would continue with my little fantasy. I’m not gay, honest. If you look long and hard enough, Cartman has his own charm. He was hot.
“So, why didn’t you sleep THIS time?” I heard him say. He acted like I did this more than once. Well, I have, but still. He didn’t have to make it sound so… demeaning. He treated it like one of my other habits.
I shrugged. I didn’t want to go on with this conversation. Couldn’t he talk more about his 360? It was easy for him to brag on and on about one of his video games. But no, we had to bring this up again, “Just thinking.” “Thinking?” One word question. Meaning, I had to answer back with what I was thinking about. I hated that. We were now on the side walk. School was so close, it made me cringe. “I had a nightmare,” It sounded stupid. Something a little two year old with a nightlight would say. It was the truth though. I have become paranoid lately. “About…?” He was still questioning me. What was this? Twenty-one questions? It was starting to get offended by him getting into my personal business. “About dying,” I said plain and simple. I wasn’t going to add anything onto it, but I figured talking about it might help a bit, “I keep having dreams where everything wants to kill me. But I wake up right before I actually ‘die.’” It sounded even stupider out loud.
“Kenny,” He turned looking right at me, “You have the weirdest imagination I’ve ever known.” It was an insult. Right after he said it, he laughed as if it were a joke. I was serious. He didn’t seemed to be buying it, was he?
I shoved my hands in my pockets and passed him with a dirty look. Does he have to make a joke about everything? I guess, I was just a little frustrated lately, but there was that sense of danger around me more and more. Scared, I guess. You could put it that way.
He must have understood I was no longer joking because he followed me. He followed me. Why does that sound odd? He turned me around and gave me an even dirtier look than I had given him. Don’t know how? I was the one who didn’t have a shower this morning. “Jesus Christ, Kenny. Don’t be such a Goddamn pussy!” He mouthed each word perfectly, but the sound came out scratchy from his throat. He was letting anger out on me, I was already a verbal punching bag as it was. I pushed him off to get my own space back. My personal belongings are mine only (unless I share), but mine aren’t something you can see at this moment. I backed up, trying to gain it back. His pushiness was pissing me off and his words weren’t exactly fun either, “Leave me alone, you fat fuck!” I shouted back. My frustration was building and needed to get something out. Even if it was negative. He always turned red when I called him that. You call him that and all Hell breaks loose. It wasn’t a good thing for me. My space would probably be invaded a lot sooner than I thought. He would hate me now for that. Sure enough, I was right. He grabbed me by the coat collar and forced so we were eye to eye. “I swear! Call me that again, you poor son of a bitch!” Son of a bitch? He was calling my mom a bitch? Like I cared. That only effected Kyle. My nerves seemed to calm, but I humored him. I would never learn, would I? I repeated what I had called him as if each word were their own separate sentence, “You. Fat. Fuck.” I gave him a proud victory smile, even if I was the one who was going to pay for it. He let out a few raged snarls right in my face, but he threw me down. He didn’t even look back to see if I was hurt or not. Which I wasn’t. But still. He just walked away with a familiar shout of, “Screw you guys, I’m going to class!” ‘Guys?’ Talking to me like I was more than one person, or I made him so angry he couldn’t think straight. I looked back at him. He left me on the ground, like the poor piece of crap I was. The poor perverted piece of crap with a bitch for a mom. I watched the ground and coughed a few times. I was nasty enough to have saliva linger off my lips. I looked back up at him. Those jeans still made his ass look totally sweet. Jesus What ‘s happening to me?
Bipolar:
It was lunch. Of course I didn’t listen to him. I was stubborn about that. Plus, I ruined every chance I have for escaping my Goddamn house tonight. He was probably pissed as Hell. Not that I cared. Well, maybe a little.
I was sitting at a back exit. There were no teachers. There was no one. Its not like they checked anyways. At least I was alone for a minute.
I closed my eyes and my body drifted downwards a little, but I caught myself. I needed sleep, but I wasn’t going to get it tonight. I know I would keep thinking about how I pissed off Cartman. I sighed. I could have handled that better. I really could have.
“I knew I’d find you out here, McCormick!” Shit! Without much thought, I hid the square behind my back. I couldn’t have been caught. Aw, damn. Who didn’t have that much of a life to come and get me in trouble.
I looked up. It was Cartman! Shit. I was worrying about fucking nothing again. “What do you want?” I said, uninterested and brought the smoke back to my lips. He really knows how to scare someone shitless, “Shouldn’t you be in class or something?”
“Oh!” His voice rang out in high pitch, but the rest came out normal, “And I’m getting that from someone who is skipping the easiest class alive!” He sat next to me and set a sandwich, applesauce, and a carton of milk on my lap, “You better eat, damn it! For some gay-ass reason, the snack line is two dollars more!”
I looked down at what I was given, then, looked his way. He wasn’t looking back. That made me feel bad. I mean, he didn’t have to do that. I had no choice, but to eat it now. I was kind of hungry anyways. I unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. It was pretty good. I mean, good for school anyways. I swallowed and looked his way again, “Thank you.” I tried to make it sound like I meant it. I did.
“Yeah, yeah,” He rested his cheek on his palm as if he were bored to death. “Sorry, I guess.” He started. It sounded more persistent, but I knew he meant well, “You know, about your dream, or something.” I knew why he said it. He didn’t need to explain any further.
This made me smile. Did he feel bad too? It made me feel a little warm just thinking about it. I looked around. No one. Sweet. I wrapped the arm, that was closest to him, around his and rested on him. My head found his shoulder. He was still warm, “It’s ok.”
He shifted a little, but it was towards me. He ignored what I was doing because no one else was around. Sometimes I wonder about him though. He would probably let me do whatever the hell I wanted as long as no one else was around, but he never does anything back (Unless I‘m sleeping, like the time in the car). He just sits there.
“What class are you skipping?” I was done with what I was eating (Well, as done as it was ever going to be) and my other arm went around the front end of his body. I squeezed at his tummy fat and giggled as if I were the one who was being tickled. Squeeze. Squeeze. Squeeze. It was amusing and somehow making me hot.
Again, he just let me go on with what I was doing and decided to answer my question instead, “Algebra.” He shrugged, “I don’t get numbers anyways. If I don’t understand what’s going on now, it doesn’t matter if I skip one day.” I must have struck something because he let out one laugh that sounded more like a whisper.
He was talking about Algebra two. I wasn’t even understanding that class. Not that I’m a wiz kid like Kyle, but still. “Yeah?” I said, looking up at him, “I’m still goin’ be out here tomorrow. What do you say to that?” I smiled a bit.
He looked down at me. It looked serious, until he gave me a smile back, “Then, I’ll have to get my ass out here again, you ass hole.” The words sounded bad, but his tone of voice was more playful.
I buried my face into his arm. My face was red from remembering him, period. It wasn’t long until I found another reason to frown again. I held him a little tighter, “Don’t you get sick of life?” An obvious change in tone and subject, “It’s so repetitive. Wake up, go to school, go to work, sleep, wake up, school, work, skip sleep, school, work, school, work, weekend comes, sleep…” I would have kept going if Cartman wouldn’t have stopped me.
He ruffled my hair with those large fingers and gave a shake at the head, “Enough. I get it.” He placed his hand on his stomach, his finger tips just barely touching mine, “I guess, I’m lucky. You never give me a normal day, McCormick.” His lips uncovered his teeth. His smile was a lot more bright. This would be a rare occasion. Like an eclipse. He would make sure it was the last thing you saw. Unless, you’re me.
McCormick. He’s been calling me that a lot lately. Hasn’t he? Or is that just me? I guess, I’m still paranoid. My shoulders went up and I continued to hide my face in his large arm. Warm. I pressed my lips against the material of his coat, wishing I could get to flesh. Not likely.
“You like life too much to be worrying about that crap,” He sighed, “and stop thinking so Goddamn much. You just make problems when you do that.” He removed his arm from my comfort like the time in the car. Why does he always do that? Well, I guess, he would have to since, I would probably be clinging onto him for the rest of the day if he didn’t. He looked right at me and took both strings, of my hoodie, in his grasp. He pulled them so only my eyes were shown, the way I like it. Then, tied it. He gave a playful punch to my cheek and stayed where he was. He looked me in the eyes, constantly shifting his view at one eye to the other and so on. He was trying to look at both at the same time, “Don’t do anything stupid over ‘life.’ Its just a game someone made because they didn’t have one.” A smirk appeared.
It wasn’t the exact answer I was looking for, but if you think about it, it kind of did make sense. I mean, the players have lives and the creature makes the rules. One rule, he can’t play, or something. Or maybe I’m thinking of Monopoly or Operation. I think, I think too much, “Well, can I use your ‘Life’ car? I’m too poor to buy one of my own.” I was thinking of the same game, right? The little white cars. You start out with a blue or pink piece and you get a car as the little marker. I think, after college you get to marry someone and they get to sit in the passenger’s seat. Hard game to explain. I’ve never played it all the way through.
He put his finger to his chin as if he had to think about it for a second, “Well, I don’t know? Then, you’d have to marry me and be my bitch. You think you’re up to that, McCormick?” He folded his arms over his thick chest and watched me with victory. He thought I would say no to that offer, didn’t he? He stood up and began to walk.
I stood too and followed. My hand grabbed his and I looked at him with a grin, “That’s Mrs. Cartman, to you.” I corrected my last name for him. I actually couldn’t believe I thought of a come back that fast. Maybe it wasn’t a come back. Maybe it was something else.
He kind of gave me a face like he was totally weirded out. Like I had a huge ass booger just chilling on top of my head. He closed his eyes and shook his head, giving a smile. He pushed me a little and broke our hand connection, “Well, ho. You better get in that kitchen and make me some kids and a pie!” He went back to walking like he was the tallest man alive again.
I fell behind a bit, but I caught up. My arm swung underhand and I grabbed at one of his nice ass cheeks. It made my day, “I can’t have your man babies without you, sweet ass.” I was feeling evil at the moment. What could I say. He wore those jeans today. He was asking for it.
He practically jumped back from my grip. He rubbed at his ass as if I fatally wounded it. Wouldn’t be surprise if I didn’t. His cheeks turned that God awful scarlet again and he stared at me with all intention of killing me, “No, Kenny! That’s a bad Kenny!” He shouted, pointing at me like I was a dog, who had just peed on the rug, or something.
I just laughed. My triumph march started now. One of my rare moments where I got to lead Cartman.
The bell rang and he left with a shrug. Probably what I get for violating him, but he’d be back to normal by the end of the day. It was time to go to class for actual learning. The class Cartman had already skipped. Algebra II. Kyle was in the class.
Kyle was a teacher’s pet and he would always get the answers right. Not to mention the little shiny stickers on the top of his papers. I was happy to just survive the class. It kind of made me mad. Kyle always got so much attention. Even if some was negative, he still got it.
Most of the negative stuff was from Cartman. I hated that. Once Kyle was in sight, he would ignore me and go straight for, what he liked to call him, ‘Jew-boy.’ Kind of made me feel left out, or just the background or something. I even thought Cartman had a crush on Kyle the way he picked on him before. Since I said that, he backed off a little. Now, just simply passing him in the hallway and spouting out ‘Jew’ instead of his birth name. Still made me mad though.
I almost envy Kyle. He’s fucking the opposite of me. Smart, bright, rich, talented, and did I mention happy? He even has a prettier face than half the girls in class. He was somewhat short, and had a skinny figure, making him look even more girly. And his voice is so God damn perfect. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cartman wanted to bang him. I already knew Stan wanted to. Ever since Junior High. Ya know, the beginning. The time where guys start to go through a little thing called puberty. He’s been eye fucking the shit out of him since thirteen. What? Was I the only one who could tell? Makes me think. Did Kyle go through woman puberty instead? Might as well slap some tits on him and call him a girl. Freak.
I sat in my desk, pulling out a random notebook. I sighed as I looked at my pencil that looked like it was sharpened all the way down to the damn eraser. I smacked it on my desk with a frustrated noise. Mad. I was mad. If only I could look that way through Eric’s eyes. No, I was a no good ‘poe piece of crap!’
“Here,” That soft voiced chimed at my eardrums. I wanted to just rip them out of my skull and throw it at the person I knew who was standing in front of me. ‘Here,' I’m a girl. Blah blah blah! Let’s go shopping and help each other put tampons in our asses.
I looked up. There was a pencil between his two delicate Jew fingers. God, did I just want to rip those fuckers off. Guess you wouldn’t be able to finger any of your millions of boyfriends tonight. Always in my business and shit. Jesus.
I took the pencil with a smile, a fake smile should I add, “Thanks, Kyle. You’re a life saver!” Yeah. I’ll shove this ‘My Little Pony’ pencil right through your eyelids and see what happens. I began to doodle a little circle on a clean piece of notebook paper, “So, talk to Stan in awhile?” I wasn’t really interested, but I was getting kind of sick of Kyle looking at my little circle thing. I drew two dots. EYES!
The Jew boy sat down in the desk next to mine. He’s gonna be here awhile, huh? He let out a wimpy ass sigh as if sitting down was some kind of damn workout. He flashed his bright emerald eyes my way and gave me his ‘serious’ (cereal) look, “Yeah. Nothing’s getting through to him, dude.” I flinched. His voice, God! Sounds like a girl saying ‘dude.’ I mean, a preppy girl saying ‘dude.’ I have nothing against girls who say ‘dude,’ unless they’re really high pitched, like the juice (Jewish Douche) over here. “I mean, I keep trying to tell him he doesn’t need to be goth. I don’t know? He’s just so different, now. I don’t think me and him should be friends anymore.”
I swear, if I was drinking something, would have spit it all over my desk. Did he just say he WASN’T going to be friends with Stan anymore? “What?!” I couldn’t say much else. Kyle has finally given up on something? Probably preached the preaching out of him.
“Yeah,” He gave a sad look to the top of his desk, not looking up, “I kinda feel alone, you know? My best friend is gone and I have no one.” He looked my way once again, “Do you think its alright if I hang out with you? Well, you and Cartman.” Goddamn puppy dog eyes. You couldn’t say no to those things.
Then again, I couldn’t exactly say yes to them either, “I don’t know, dude? It’s Cartman’s house. You might have to ask him.” It was perfect. If Kyle asked Cartman, he would proudly say no to him. Then, we could hangout with no Jews in sight. Perfect.
“Sweet,” He smiled, “I think I’ll do that.” He stood up, obviously taking someone else’s seat when he sat next to me. He waved at me and went back to his own seat.
I waved back with a smile, but my smile was based off my victory. I should be the one saying ‘sweet.’ I focused my eyes back to my notebook. I wrote my name in big cursive letters. Then, Cartman’s. I thought about the whole marriage thing. Or should I say ‘Life’ thing. I wrote my first name. Good so far. Then, added Cartman to the end. ‘Kenny Cartman.’ It didn’t sound half bad. It almost sounded better than my own name. I could probably even abbreviate it. KC. Casey. I continued to draw. Two little stick figures, holding hands with heart around them. I drew a circle on the taller one, making it clear it was Cartman with the belly. My smile widened.
“Kenny. What is the next step in finding the function of 2 pie over 6?”
My head shot up. Another question went one ear and out the other. I looked around the room, then, at the clock. It was already thirty minutes into the class. I usually don’t drift off for that long. What the hell was a function? I stuttered out a few um’s before shrugging. This wasn’t the first time it’s happened so I didn’t feel too embarrassed.
The teacher just shook her head and gave me a look. “Mr. McCormick, see me in the hallway, now.” She went back to the board and erased it. She began writing the homework on the board. The homework I wasn’t planning on doing. She turned, “Ok, class. Do problems 10 through 32 on your own in class. You may work with a partner if you would like.” Her attention fell to me now. I guess, I should follow her.
The hallway. It looked dead. I never seen it so vacant before. There’s a huge difference between classes, huh? I made myself comfortable by leaning against the lockers. I didn’t look her way. It was going to be another lecture, wasn’t it?
She closed the door behind her. “You realize why I brought you out here.” I coarse I did, bitch. The exact opposite reason why Kyle isn’t.
“I’m achieving poor homework and test grades. My grades have dropped 'drastically' and I’m in danger of failing your class.” I recited. This was the same old thing, wasn’t it?
“Well, yes. But I’m sort of concerned about your behavior. You don’t get along with the other kids in class, you always appear tired, and you haven’t turned in a single assignment since day one. Are there complications at home? I’m here to listen.” She smiled. She was a dumb broad. Actually getting into my business!
I looked away. I didn’t need her Goddamn counseling. Things were fine. I just hated math. It’s totally gay.
“I see, You’re not going to talk are you?” She gave a sigh and looked through her papers as if she was doing something ‘important.’ “Well, there are people all around you that can help, if you need it.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I didn’t even look her way. My eyes felt red. Why the hell would some bring up that Goddamn subject in school? What was the purpose? Life was way too complicating for this bullshit. I walked back in the classroom, the door swinging open and making a loud noise. Frustration again. I went to my desk, and to my surprise, I saw Kyle in the desk next to it. All ready to do these pointless problems. I just wanted to sleep. Couldn’t I just be invisible for two seconds. I sat and hid my face in my arms.
“Kenny?” Kyle said cautiously. He better, or I’ll rip his balls off.
“Just leave me alone.” I said, not wanting to bother with any of this anymore.
“Come on, I don’t need another friend doing this to me,” He always played his part so innocently. He knew I was in a bad mood. And I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it. The last thing I needed was one of his speeches.
“That’s fucking it!” I stood, the desk almost flying to the other side of the room. I flung my book bag over my shoulder and left the room. Fuck that, I left the school.
I went to the one place I could. I put my bag down and made a seat on the nose of Cartman’s car and lit up. Why was I getting so frustrated lately? Everything just seemed to annoy me. I laid down, my head against the windshield. I watched the sky. It was totally white. Not like the days where you look up and see little puffy clouds and can make pictures out of them. I cried my eyes out. No one was watching, so it didn’t matter really. Besides, I had calmed twenty minutes later.
What was that teacher trying to say? I’m crazy? Sounded like it. I am not. No fucking way! I was just irritated. With everything. I rubbed my eyes. They were sore. I wanted to sleep. I did.
I woke up not too long after. The students were swarming out of the school to their cars. Wanting to go home. Me, wanting to go to Cartman’s. I rubbed my eyes again and noticed my body floating. “What the fuck?!” Was I high!?
No, Cartman was picking me off of his car. “Why are you so early?” The answer hit him, “Goddamn it, Kenny! You skipped class again, didn’t you?” He opened the back door and placed me in the back seat, where I could lay. He gave a disapproving shake of the head and looked at me, “You have to sit back here. We need to make room for Jew-boy.” He got in on his side and closed the door.
My eyes were plastered open. Kyle!? They started to burn. Cartman had actually said yes?! But this was our time to hangout. I wouldn’t be able to hold his arm. Sit in his lap. Sit on his back as he lays on the floor. Lay on the couch together as we watch T.V. I was mad. Even more frustrated. I folded my arms.
Sure enough, the curly red-head came to the car. He opened the door and sat inside. He looked my way and smiled, “Hello, Kenny.” He met the other in the driver’s seat, “Cartman.” A little happy don’t you think?
“Jew,” Cartman said back with a smirk.
I didn’t even bother to respond.
We drove back. I stayed in my laying position, my back facing the front of the car. My forehead felt the soft seat. I pulled my coat closer to my body, freezing. I blame Kyle.
The whole ride I could only think about how my day was ruined. My day off with Cartman was ruined. All because of Kyle. I was pissed. I really felt like stabbing his brains out with that ‘My Little Pony’ pencil now. Wait. My notebook. I fucking left it in class, didn’t I? I was a scatter brain. What if someone sees it? SHIT! I had something else to worry about now.
Well, I didn’t have anything to worry about, right? I mean, it’s not like I was actually in love with Cartman. It was just an inside joke. About board games. Yeah, that’s right. I’ll have fun explaining that to people.
“Thanks for letting me join, Cartman!” I heard Kyle’s voice. I shivered. Your fault, Jew. All your fault.
Cartman didn’t say much to that. I didn’t plan on him saying anything anyways. Just a low noise showing he was actually listening to him. Then, screaming at a car who was in his way.
“He’ll be fine,” I heard Kyle say next, in a softer pitch voice. He must have been talking about Stan or something. I really could care less. Anything that comes out of his mouth is gay anyways.
The real shocker was I could hear Cartman’s voice, now loud and clear. That seriousness in it again, “I know.” He shifted in his seat. I don’t know where he was looking. I didn’t bother. Maybe to see if a car was in the next lane, “He just seems so depressed all the time. I wouldn’t know how to help him.” Defiantly, they were talking about Stan. They had to. I mean, I didn’t know any other depressed people.
“Just be there for him,” Kyle’s voice was unusually soft. Was the fucker flirting with Cartman!? I nuzzled my face closer into the seat. I didn’t want to think about that. It made everything hurt.
“I am, you ass wipe!” Yay! His anger was back, meaning Kyle was pissing him off again. Maybe he’ll get so mad and kick him out, “You think I’m not!?”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant, dude. You’re doing a great job right now, but if it gets worse…” The girly voice came back.
“It won’t get worse! Ya hear me, Jew-boy! I’ll make sure it doesn’t!” Cartman shouted louder.
What Kyle said next was strange. Usually he would scream back at him, but instead, he was calm. He even sounded happy as he said it, “You must care about him a lot. You’re a good friend, Cartman.” Did he just say that? I was defiantly going to rip his ball sack off now. Who the Hell did he think he was?
He made another incoherent noise. More of a, ‘Oh God, I can’t believe he said that out loud’ thing. I was thinking the same thing in my mind.
The car stopped. We must have been at his house already. I pretended I was still asleep. Just curious if they would try to wake me up or just leave me there.
Sure enough, that large hand nudged me in the back .Not hard, but it didn’t matter to me. I still didn’t move. It was a contest. How far would Cartman go to wake me up.
Obviously, not far. He got out of the car and opened the door for the backseat. He leaned inside and picked my ‘sleeping’ body up. He put me on one of his shoulders.
I didn’t move. He was so warm. I’d be a retard to move.
“Aw. So cute, Cartman,” I heard that Jew voice again. I wanted to bite his whole face off. Kill him, God. Maybe not that, but still.
I didn’t hear Cartman say a word. Maybe he was tired. I knew I was. Maybe a little sleep couldn’t hurt. I’d probably feel better if he were there next to me though. I’m not gay, honest. I just feel a lot safer when someone is in the room with me.
Kyle hummed a high pitched tune. Who knows what it was. Probably some Hanukkah song, but he trailed behind a bit. Watching us, most likely. I didn’t dare open my eyes. I couldn’t even if I tried.
We were inside, I could tell. It was a lot warmer. It smelled like home. You know, how you go to someone’s house for the first time, you notice it smells weird. But if you’re at a house you’ve been at forever, it doesn’t even smell. The distinct smell of home.
“I’m takin’ him up to bed, get my Goddamn 360 started,” Cartman said rather quietly, but still had a sense of rudeness. It could have been louder, I wouldn’t have minded. I wasn’t exactly asleep just yet. I felt him move and heard him climb the stairs.
I held on tighter. I hated heights. I pretty much hate anything that has something to do with death. I didn’t mean to, but I whispered to him, “If I’m too heavy, I can walk.” I didn’t want to bother him. He should be playing his game by now. Instead, he has to carry me up when I was very capable of doing it myself.
I heard a grunt, “What the hell are you talkin’ about McCormick? You’re as light as a fucking Goddamn angel!” His voice rose once he knew I was awake, but not loud enough for Kyle to hear. His sentence was so rude, so hurtful, until his last word. That was a weird thing to compare me to. Was he sure he didn’t mean to say, ‘…light as a poor piece of crap’ or ‘…light as a skinny ass bitch?’ Angel?
I wouldn’t say anything. I wouldn’t. I was quiet until he dropped me onto his bed. I cuddled my face into the pillow and pulled the covers over my body. Warm. I smiled, still starring at my eyelids, until I opened them to take in one more vision of Cartman.
He sat down, pretty cautious of my skinny legs. I wouldn’t have minded. He didn’t look my way. His hands folded into each other and he brought it to his chin. Was he going to talk to me or play with Kyle? I thought his intention was to play 360.
I waited. What did he want? His facial expression was so… different. Maybe it was just the lighting. It was dark in the room and the hallway light sunk in from the halfway opened doorway. He looked way older and mature compared to his menacingly evil face.
“Death, Kenny,” It wasn’t really a sentence. Maybe he was about to tell me what death was, “You have these dreams often?” His eyes didn’t move, or even blink, “In your dreams, other people are the ones killing you…. Right?” He said that, as if it were hard for him to say. Was this on his mind all day? I felt bad. I made him worry about this. I should have kept it to myself. He wasn’t done, “I mean, You’re not dreaming about killing yourself. You know, suicide.”
My eyes shot open, wide. How was he even saying this? “No way! Of course not!” I shouted almost instantly, “Are you going to take me seriously at all?!” I pulled the covers over my head. I didn’t want to deal with this right now. It was bad enough he invited Kyle tonight.
He pulled all of the sheets off me. He glared hard at me, almost speaking through his teeth, like they were glue together or something, “This IS serious! Look at you!” How could I? I was me. I wouldn’t see the same thing as Cartman. I knew that. He calmed himself down a little before going on, “You worry me sometimes, McCormik.” I just noticed. When he says my name, it was as if the R was silent. Now that I mention it, he never pronounces anything with the letter R. Or does he? He said the word ‘worry’ pretty normal.
What he said almost went right passed me because of my thinking. But I managed, “Why? Because I had a dream, you think I’m a suicidal maniac!?” My arm lifted to punch him in the face. He had no right to assume something like that. I was not suicidal!
My fist didn’t reach its destination. It was stopped by that big hand of his. It was almost as big as my face. If he wanted, he could pick me up by the head. I wouldn’t like that though. His attention was on me now. He was looking right at me, “I never said you were one! But you’re so confusing, you make me wonder!”
“Well, now you know,” I stole my hand back from him and turned so my face could rest on the pillow. I didn’t want to look at him. He wasn’t Cartman. He wasn’t acting like himself. He was acting normal. He was acting like that good for nothing Stan, before he turned Goth, “I hate you, Eric.” I used his first name. It fit, and it showed I was serious about what I had said. He didn’t do anything really after that. He hardly moved. I guess, I went a little too hard on him, but that was life. If it was rough, get a helmet because this friendship is headed for a rocky road. After five minutes or so, he stood and walked out. I felt bad. I felt like I was in the darkness. I felt alone. I sniffed in. The scent from the pillow. It was Cartman. It was nice. It was calming. He smelt so amazing. I hugged the pillow and smiled. It widened. I stole a glance of his ass before he left the room.
Wow, I must be bipolar.
I woke up. It was dark outside. It was dark before I went to sleep, but that was because of all of the damn clouds. It was night. I looked at the glowing green numbers on the clock. They read 8:13. Already? I wasted this day. I rubbed at my eyes. They felt a little better. Better than before at least. I decided to get up, but I took the comforter with me. I put it over my shoulders and headed out the door, into the bright hallway. I could hear the video game from downstairs. Some shooting game. Kyle was still here. I could pick up a “That’s not fair!” from him.
I slowly walked down the stairs, peaking my head into the view. I forgot my hood wasn’t on. My hair must have looked like a total mess. I just watched them play, but my eyes were mostly on Cartman.
He was sitting on the floor. One knee up (his right leg) and his other leg was curved under the arch his right leg made. His finger pressed the buttons fast and stressful. His eyes were on the T.V.
He was still wearing his jeans, but now I could see his shirt. It was red, but over it was a thin jacket, a darker shade of red. He wasn’t wearing his hat either. His brown hair was showing. His long bangs were combed to a side and his hair had a little spike to it. I wonder if he does his hair that way, or if it’s just perfect like that all the time.
His eyes looked up at the stairs for a second, then back down at the T.V. screen, as if he hadn’t seen anything. He stopped what he was doing and looked where I was again, as if I were some kind of ghost.
Kyle was heard in the background, screaming something like, “Yes! I finally killed you, fat ass!” The controller went flying from his hands, doing a little happy dance.
He wouldn’t stop starring at me. I began to blush, then hide my face with the covers. I was contemplating weather I should walk down the stairs or back up them. I couldn’t exactly read the expression on his face. Maybe I should just leave. We were just starring each other down. Was this my hint to get the fuck out?
He calmed his face a little, his eyes looked back at the screen. I was about to walk back up the stairs until he spoke out, “McCormick, get yer scrawny ass down here!” He seemed that he had short patients with me. I understood, since I did say I hated him. I regret it now.
Kyle looked at Cartman who just busted into a shout, then up at the stairs when it registered in his brain he was talking to me. His happy face was wiped away. Did I always have to ruin things for other people? It always seems the moment I walk in a room, everyone’s expression turns so vacant.
I walked down the stairs so quietly. I was almost afraid to. I hugged the blanket closer to myself, giving me some sense of protection at least. I went over to Cartman, as if he commanded me to sit next to him. I kept a close distance though. I flinched when I sat, maybe thinking he would hit me or something.
He pointed a thick finger Kyle’s way, “Jew. Warm something up for him.” He eyed him. Not blinking once. Serious again. This wasn’t fucking him! I’m pissed. When he acts this way, it makes everything in my rib cage ache and my throat begins to burn. I hated it. Cartman not acting like Cartman was the worse thing. It’s just as bad as putting nasty creamers and sugar in coffee.
Kyle froze where he was. He looked down at those eyes, which were looking at him so intently. He nodded once and walked towards the kitchen. What the hell was wrong with everyone? Kyle never listens to Cartman without a fight. He noticed Cartman wasn’t done talking. He stopped.
Cartman’s eyes weren’t on Kyle as he said this, “And I think you should leave after you’re done.” He closed his eyes now. Why were they acting so strange?
Kyle went into the kitchen.
It was silent for a second. I didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at me. I put the blanket over my head and pulled it close so only my eyes were visible. My defense.
“Do you really hate me?” He asked. He had this sadness I couldn’t even describe, “What do you hate about me?” He looked down, placing his hands on his knees.
“Dude, I didn’t mean it. I was mad. I just…” I couldn’t finish. I didn’t even know what I was saying to start with.
Silence.
I scooted closer to him, he moved away. Had I hurt him that bad? I looked at him now, “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t touch me, Kenny. Just don’t touch me,” He stood up looking around, wondering where he would go next. It was his house. Maybe he was searching something else.
“You let me before. What’s the difference now?” I stared at him. What has gotten into him? Then again, I wasn’t exactly acting like myself either.
“I realized something,” he said. Realized? Realized what!? I’m not fucking gay!
I took the covers off me and stared at him for a long moment, “Well, are you going to tell me, or is this a secret between you and the Jewish piece of shit?!” My anger was rising. My heart was racing. Everything in my chest began to ache.
It was as if he never heard me call Kyle a name before. Maybe I haven’t. Not out loud at least. But it sounded natural to me. “I didn’t tell him,” His gaze was on the window now.
I walked over to him, resting my head on his back and wrapping my arms around him (to my best ability). I was instantly pushed away. I stood there alone. My heart was now pounding in my temples and my whole body began to ache. I wanted to fucking cry. What the hell was this? Could I not find someone to give me comfort? The comfort my parents never gave me? I just needed someone to hold me. I wanted that someone to be Cartman. “I fucking hate you!!” I shouted. I repeated myself. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t think. He was pissing me off. Kyle was in the other room. No one was looking. Why couldn’t I hold you!!
“Just say it! What do you hate about me!?” He screamed at the top of his lungs. Kyle must have known we were fighting. He was just ignoring it.
I fell to my knees and leaned forward so my forehead was on the scratchy carpet. “I don’t know!? I don’t know!? I don’t know!? I don’t know!? …” I kept going. When I repeat something, it’s constant. Like a fucking broken record. I didn’t know why I hated him. Maybe because he wouldn’t let me hold him? I don’t know? Why wouldn’t he? It didn’t make any sense. I just wanted to put my arms around him. Feel him. He was always so warm. He always felt like he cared. He was the only one on this fucking planet who cared (about me). To everyone else I was nothing, to him. I was at least something. I needed fucking comfort too! I needed it, now!
What the hell was this? This wasn’t me. I must not have had my cigarette. Too bad I already had five. I was acting like a little kid. My toy was taken away and I’m screaming and crying to have it back. I must look ridiculous.
I heard the door shut. Kyle must have left. He knew when he wasn’t wanted. Good. He better.
“Stop crying,” I heard him say. What a retarded demand. How could I stop? If I could, I fucking would, don’t you think?
But somehow, my body started to give out. My sobs stopped and my body just fell to the ground. How does he fucking do it? Every single time. He tells you to do something, it happens. Always. I choked on air a few times, but that was it. My cheeks weren’t even wet. I was dry crying? Yeah, if that made any bit of sense.
I heard him move around. I didn’t look up. He was messing with his 360. After, I heard the springs of the couch. He was sitting down. I guess, he understood I was just a fool. Just a Goddamn retard laying on his floor. The poor piece of crap, just chilling in the middle of his carpet.
I looked up. He had a bowl in his hands. He stirred it with the silver spoon. Soup. Must have been chicken noodle. It smelled like it.
I was suddenly very hungry. Recap of what I had eaten today: coffee, a smiley face cookie, and a couple bits of a sandwich. My stomach growled, but I stayed where I was.
“McCormick! Don’t make me force feed you! I will!” That was a big hint for me to get up on the couch and eat the damn soup, wasn’t it? He was in a pissy mood, but that was my fault.
I stood up and slumped onto the couch, not amused. I folded my arms and looked away from him. I was stubborn. I was not going to give him an easy time.
Cartman always had his ways though. He took a spoonful and blew at it, cooling it. He took his large fingers and pinched my cheeks together, causing my face to look like a fish’s. He shoved the spoon between my lips and poured the liquid inside. I swallowed hard, then, struggled to get free, “Stop it! Let me go!” He let go and I rubbed at my boney cheeks.
“I warned you,” He smirked. He looked like himself. He even sounded like himself, “Now, we can do this the easy way,” He stirred the noodled broth quicker, “or the hard way.”
I knew the hard way. I didn’t want to do that again. I sat closer to him and opened my mouth wide, as if I were at the dentist. God, hate that place. Do they always have to drill holes in your teeth?
He placed the spoon in my mouth a second time, third, fourth, fifth. I’m just ignoring the fact the Jew prepared it. He watched as I swallowed it as if he were entertained by it. The phone rang when I was going for the sixth spoonful. He put the bowl down on the table, then got up from the couch, “God damn it!” He walked over to the phone and picked it up, “W
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Comments:
I think this was well-written. I don't watch Southpark so I wondered if there were inside jokes I was missing! I'm glad you're back to posting.
Posted: Jun 14, 2008
