I have recently fallen in lust with the pairing KennyXButters. Why? Well, it's a) Fucking SMEXY! b) Kenny keeps on dying and Butters is the closest anyone can get to being an angel Coiwinky-dink? I think not! And c) Um, hmm. . . They're both blonds?

Anyhow, because of this, I have been scouring the internet in search of some good fanfiction for this pairing . . . and there really isn't much out there. So I have decided to make my own fanfiction! I only plan it being about five chapters long, so I don't think I'll have a problem updating.

The characters your about to meet are all needed for the plot, and will not be in every chapter. Believe me, everything will be explained.

I do not own South Park

Dealings of Fate and Death


PROLOGUE: The Game

16 years ago, cloud six, level 2.

Death nervously took one hand away from the five cards being clutched between his fingers, and (not for the first time that night) raised his thumb to his mouth and chewed on the material laying on the tip of the digit. The silk gloves with skeleton bones made out of chemicals painted on them (a gift from his mother) were wonderfully soft, and because of the long ebony sleeves of his robe, his hands looked like bleached bones; reaching out. They were Death's favourite gloves, not because of how well they fit, or the expense of the material, but because the macabre design glowed in the dark (which looked frickin' awesome when he went clubbing!). So usually Death took care of them, but tonight, Death was nervous, and his habits were digressing to what they were when he was his weapon of choice was a stinky diaper instead of a scythe, which as far as his mum was concerned, are just as lethal.

"I'm waiting Steve," lazily drawled a tall man who was bobbing his foot offbeat to an imaginary beat while oozing dangerous levels of sex appeal.

". . . Don't call me Steve. . ." Death hated his human name, and Fate was the only god cocky enough to utter it since he took up his day job as grim reaper five-hundred-and-some years ago; gods can die too.

"Steve. . . Are you in or not?" Death knew it was risky; gambling against Fate, no matter how good the chances it was stupid—like really stupid. But his hand was so good, and Fate, who had been gulping at fireball whiskey all night didn't look all that sober. Plus, even Fate occasionally lost a game of poker, and had in fact lost to Silence earlier. If he won, he would win back all of the lives he had lost, and that included the pretty girl he was planning on going clubbing with next Friday. If he lost, well, Fate had asked for a favour . . . and with Fate, THAT could be VERY risky.

"Death, 'cmon buddy, I gotta pee." Like Fate, Curiosity had been sucking down Depression's special little drink (Depression, Death's ex, had dropped the booze off earlier before running off) and apparently, Curio had consumed a wee bit too much. Five bottles were lying on the long table they were sitting at, just to her left.

"Ok, I'm in. . ." Death had to win, he had a great hand. So he pulled his physical hand away from his mouth and held his cards with both hands again.

"I got—"Curio did something that sounded like a hybrid hiccup burp that had taken singing lessons from dying cats being stepped on (amazing considering her form was that of a eleven year old girl). "—a two o'hearts and and a fo' o' blacky upside-down hearts!"

"Curio. . . What happened to your other cards?" asked Jasper, who was an ex-god of Cats (during the Egyptian period he was a main godess, named Bast but had retired when Curio had accidentally knocked off the nose off of a statue which had squished and killed his mortal form; this very happening was what sprung forth the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'). Jasper always made a point to look after the girl who was older than the Catholic religion and innocently destructive. Curio, who had been enjoying the experience of blowing across the top of one of her previously discarded bottles looked up, and grinned meekly as she pointed to the bottle furthest away from her. "I wan'ed t'see if they'd fit. . ."

". . . Oh . . . kay. . ." said Death, who turned away from the tiny figure who had decided to try and retrieve the sticky cards that were now lying at the bottom of a bottle. With the help of Jasper of course.

Pleasure and Lust; two fraternal twins (both being close to identical, and both showing way more skin than was necessary, even Pleasure, who was a boy) had shared a single hand called theirs next, "three of a kind," before going back to their conversation. Lust not even skipping a beat when she blindly reached out and took the new born Damien, Satan's son, who the old wrinkly man Samson was babysitting. Samson, like Jasper, had folded.

Death looked around, and his eyes once again landed on Fate, who was slouching in his seat, eyes not quite looking at anything. His foot still bobbing.

Victory was near. For the first time in Death's life, he was finally going to beat the chauvinistic bastard. And everyone in the room was going to see it. He laid his cards down, showing a straight flush. He looked up, a smirk spreading across his face only to stop. Fate, who had only seconds before looked barely coherent now had his usual cocky grin, eyes sharp and hard, no longer looking dazed with incoherency. In his hands the cards he had been holding were turned towards Death. Fate was holding a royal straight flush.

"You owe me a favour."

'Shit . . . , 'was all Death could think. Curio got up to go to the bathroom.

End


Yay, the prologue is finished! Just a simple little chapter. My first story! Man, did not think it would be South Park fanfiction . . . and I really didn't think it would be a pairing such as THIS.

What do you think of my characters? What do you think of Death? I based him on an episode of South Park Where the Grim Reaper appeared but still wanted to have some fun with him XD

Review Please.