Author's Note: Aye! I do not own South Park, Lady Gaga stuff, Rockband, or anything else that is alluded to in here. I would appreciate any reviews (Good and bad...and neutral.) on the story so I can work on my writing skills for the future. If there is any English errors, (which I am sure there are) please note I wrote it in one day and am too lazy to edit it thoroughly and completely. Also, if you have any favorite South Park pairings, I'd be glad to hear them...considering I will gladly admit I have absolutely have no life and will probably write again 'cause it's fun. No matter my lack of skills.

Note: There is some swearing in here. Not as bad as it could be, but it's there...just to let you know. Have a nice day!


"EY! LET ME OUT OF HEYA (here). YOU WILL RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAH!" Cartman yelled as he banged his hands on the door. I rolled my eyes; he'd been at it for over half an hour. "I SWEAR, IF YOU GEYS DON'T LET ME OUT OF HEYA RIGHT NOW AND THE JEW USES HIS JEW MAGIC ON ME TO TURN ME INTO A PLATYPUS, I WILL KICK YOU IN THE BALLS. " That caught my attention. A platypus? Really? That was odd, even for him. I seriously wonder how the Hell he came up with these things.

"Give it up, Fatass. No one's coming."
This just seemed to make Cartman pound at the door faster and louder.
"I CAN'T BE STUCK IN HEYA WITH THE JEW."

"Dude, shut up already."

"…PLATYPUS…." That was the only word that was clear enough to be comprehended. I sighed and walked over to the overweight boy…er…thing and punched him in the arm.

Hey! It worked! He shut up….awh. Knock on wood.

"OW. What the FUCK was that for?" Well, that was a delayed action.
"Suck it up, fatso."

"At least my mom isn't a bitch." I honestly have no idea how he played into that insult out of freaking nowhere. Besides, I mean, my mom isn't that bad. I think.

"Don't call her a bitch! Just 'cause she's overprotective doesn't mean she's a bitch anyway. AND she was never on the cover of Crack Whore Magazine. Like your mom currently is." He glared at me.

"That was one time because we needed money! She told meh so." He said defensively. "Least she's not a Jew that limits my food," Cartman added on second thought.

"It's not like she limits anything you eat, and look where that got you."
"Where?"

"…You gotta be kidding me."
"Oh…I'M NOT FAT; I'M BIG BONED."

"Who do you think you're convincing, anyway?"

This stopped him.

"Damn diabetic sonofabitch."

"You got that right," I said in a smug sing-songy sort of voice.

My tone just seemed to irritate him further.

"Okay. Fine. Let's play it your way, Kahl. I'm fat. What does it matter anyway? How does that make it okay for you to proclaim that you're better than me?" Cartman snarled. He was walking towards me while jabbing at me with his index finger. I was slightly shocked because I had never seen Cartman like this.

He kept coming towards me. "Answer me! Tell me how to better myself to please the great Kyle." He threw some sarcasm in there. I also noticed his accent was gone.

"Dude. I've learned something. Maybe all of us are bad; but the thing is, we try to do right…more or less. Humans are supposed to be intelligent enough to figure out what's just or unjust, and so we try. You don't try at all," I say. Let's hear three cheers for my ability to launch into one of those "I've learned something" speeches. Too bad it didn't seem to be working, judging by Cartman's facial expression.

"There was no need for you to go into one of your gay speeches."
"Yes, there was."
"No."
"Yeeeeees."
"No."
"NO, THERE WASN'T."
"HELL, YEAH, THERE WAS."

And now, we have a glaring tournament between us two. Huzzah. The competition is intense. Who's going to win now? Apparently me.

"I give up, Jew. You're impossible." Was that…could it be…an expression of defeat on Eric freaking Cartman's face?

"What's up your ass?" I ask curiously.

"Hmmm…let me think… maybe it involves you getting us locked in this oversized closet!"
"Not my fault. I was ambushed too, remember?"

How is he blaming me for this? Stan and Kenny had basically shoved us in here and locked the door. They said they were tired of our constant arguing so they decided to try Jimmy's method of lock in. Wait. Those things were twenty-four hours and Cartman and I have been in here for...(I glance at my watch) two hours. God dammit. This is gonna be a long twenty-two hours.

Cartman had fallen asleep and I was on the verge of falling asleep myself when I heard muttering. I tilted my head to listen, though I'm not sure what good that would do. It was Cartman, talking in his sleeping. It sounded like he was arguing internally with himself. Does he ever leave anything without contradicting it? No, of course not.

"…can't be bi…you are….am not…prove it…screw you…see, you are bi…"

I wonder if Cartman has multiple personalities or something.

… HAHA. It took me a minute to realize the irony of this. I got nothing against bisexuals or anything, but this situation is too funny.

I should piss him off with my knowledge of the irony. Should do it now or later? If I do it now, I'm gonna regret it 'cause he won't go back to sleep. Hehe. Screw it.

"Hey, hey Fatass!"

"…stupid Jew…" Cartman rolled over, still asleep. I shake him and he sits up quickly. "What do you want," He said the question more like a statement than a question.

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" He looked at me wearily.

"You woke me up for that."

"Nope. I woke you up 'cause you're bi."
"No, I'm not."

"Sure. You dig chicks and dudes and you're not bi."
Suddenly Cartman was in my face.

"Say that again and I will kick you in the nuts."
"I think it's so ironic that you're bi." Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, and stupid…I think to myself. He tried to kick me, so I block his foot and throw in a few punches of my own. No idea why I was fighting him, but whatever. Somehow, I ended up pinning Cartman to the floor and panting, "I win."

He struggled for a bit before giving up and then looking me in the eyes and saying, "No, you don't, Jew."

What is he talking about? I just won a fight and am pinning him down. I also know his secret. How is that not winning? I closed my eyes in frustration, and that's when it happened. Cartman played his last card by lifting his head and pressing his lips against mine. I didn't even comprehend what was going on or whom it was, but out of instinct, I kissed back. Then, Cartman drew back and grinned.

"See. I win." I was completely and utterly confused.

"What the fuck, Cartman?" My voice cracked. I really hate when that happens; I don't think anyone can take me seriously when it does.

"To clear things up, I don't like you, Kahl. I just sped things along so that now you are confused beyond believe. You kissed back. You have some gay-ness in you. I WIN." Cartman lectured me with a smirk on his face. He couldn't be right could he? I didn't it, did I? I looked at him with a shocked expression on my face for a few minutes before I whispered, "I hate you, Fatass." A tired, older expression came onto Cartman's face. "I know; I hate you, too."

I awoke with a jolt when I heard a creak of a door opening and the sounds of feet on the floor. Blinking because of the light, I squinted to see Stan and Kenny at the frame of the door. Immediately, I held up my middle finger, stood up, and stalked out of the room. As I left I heard Stan whisper to Kenny, "I'm guessing it didn't work," to which Kenny responded with, "mmh hmmt! (No shit.)" They ran to catch up with me.

"Look, Kyle, I'm sorry, dude. Do you want to come over, spend the night, and play video games tonight?"
"No."

"MMH?"
"Man, you are pissed. "
"Really? I hadn't noticed," I said sarcastically. They stopped walking with me.

"Mphum mmm umph; mmm mphad mmh mphm mmmph (Suck it up, we said we were sorry)" At these words, I froze. "Fine. I'll be there," forcing a smile, I added, "Be prepared to have your asses kicked."

When I rang the doorbell to the Marsh's home (for Stan's mom's benefit), I heard a few shouts from Kenny, Stan…and Cartman? Oh, no. They didn't. They better not of. The door opened.

"You know you don't have to ring the door anymore, right?" Stan inquired.

"I thought your mom wanted me to."

"Yeah, but she's not the one who has to get the door."

"Oh, so don't ring the door bell to save you from your own laziness?"

Stan paused, "Seems about right." Despite myself, I grinned as I walked into the house. That smile disappeared immediately as I saw that Nazi sitting on the couch. He could barely fit on it.

"You seemed to forget to mention HE was here."
"Mmh mmmph mmmhp. (We left it out on purpose.)
"Way to be blunt."

"EY! We gonna play some video games or what?" The moron yelled, holding up on of the Rockband games. The three of us resigned to our usual places, with Stan and me on the guitar, Cartman on vocals, and Kenny on drums. I zoned our for a bit while Cartman was choosing the song and only being snapped into reality when I heard the familiar intro of Lady Gaga's, 'Bad Romance.' Of course.

I want your ugly

I want your disease

I want your everything

As long as it's free

I want your love

I want you love, love, love

I want your love

I swear, that douche bag chose that song deliberately to mess with my mind. Any person who knows me can tell anyone that I always listen to the lyrics of a song above all else. Therefore, Cartman knows it too. He's screwing with me. Ass.

At the end of the song, I glared at Cartman, threw down the guitar, and hissed at Cartman, "I need to talk to you." I grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him into Stan's backyard while Kenny and Stan looked at me with surprise.

"Kahl. Kaaaaaahl. KAHL. STOP IT. I can walk on my own, thank you very much!"

"You. Bastard. You decided to screw with my mind in that room, and now you decided that you're going to go even further with it. Stop it. Right now. It's not funny."
Cartman grinned. "You sure?"

"Yes,"

"You positive?"

"Yes."
"Are you…HIV positive?"

I hit him and mentally smack myself for using the same words that I did when he gave me AIDS through a blood transfusion.

"Just stop. I'm straight, and you're making a fool of yourself." With that, I turn and walk back towards the house and I knew that Cartman was following.

Stan and Kenny were waiting in the living room and when we entered the room, they looked up and blinked.

"What song d'you guys want to play now?" Stan asked.

I shook my head and muttered, "I don't want to play."

"Mmmph, mmkph. Mpmpmh mm mmmhmp?"

"Kenny, just take of the fucking hood already. It's getting on everyone nerves," I snapped at Kenny. He rolled his eyes before taking it off.

"Fine. What do you want to do then?" He repeated.

Stan grinned, "We could invite some more people and have an extreme version of truth or dare or something outside."

Cartman grumbled, "God damn, you're such a girl, Marsh."

Stan's expression darkened a little bit but he new that Cartman was on board. All he had to do was convince Kenny and me before he knew he had his little truth or dare game. In this one instance, Cartman was right-Stan was acting like a girl.

"Guys, if we invited Wendy and Bebe, they'd probably bring some other girls…and you know how that would go. So what do you say?"

Kenny, at the prospect of seeing anything female, nodded eagerly and I just reluctantly nodded. "Great!' Stan exclaimed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to dial our classmates.

In the end, our "game" had a fair turnout. Wendy, Bebe, Heidi, Rebecca (my first kiss), Red, Craig, Tweek, Damien, Token, Pip, Butters, a life size cut out of George Clooney, and a few others showed up. I have no idea why we invited Damien, considering he turned Kenny into a platypus (what's up with platypuses?) and was the son of Satan, or Pip, considering we hate him. I have even less of an idea where the Hell George Cloony came from or why the Hell he was there. Ah, well. Whatever, I suppose.

I didn't really pay attention during the game but the first to go was Craig, who chose truth 'cause he hates exciting things and I have no idea why he showed up.

"Truth."
Kenny, who still had his hood off, said immediately, "If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?" He totally got that off wikipedia. Craig flipped him off and sat there for five minutes saying nothing. Most everyone playing the game looked at him until he sighed and said in his monotonous voice, "I guess I would have shoulder-length hair, would never wear skirts, and…uh…would do what the girls do?" Pip applauded and said, "How specific!" I never knew he could be sarcastic. Craig then dared Damien to pray to Jesus for five minutes…in which Jesus actually showed up and got a good laugh. Damien ended up "truthing" Stan and asking him if he had to spent all eternity with someone in the room, who would he spend it with. Stan said me, and then was dragged off by Wendy, who proceeded to break up with him again and leave, along with the rest of the girls. But the game went on, regardless. Much to my distress. Stan then tried to truth or dare Tweek, who abruptly and unsurprisingly yelled, "NGH…TOO MUCH PRESSURE. I DON'T KNOW," and just twitched there for so long that they allowed him to skip the dare/truth, but made him truth or dare someone, namely Cartman. Cartman chose dare…he had to draw one the names of occupants of the room and make out with them for three and make it seem real. This, of course, was not Tweek's idea. This is one of those moments when I could kill Kenny, mainly because no one deserved that form of torture. After a few minutes of screaming, Cartman drew a name out and I was slapped into reality when he read my name aloud.

"What? NO. NONONONONO," I blurt out. "There is no way in my life-time I'm letting this fatass come near me, let alone kiss me." The others were looking sympathetic Kenny was smirking, God damn you, Kenny. "YEAH. I don't wanna kiss the Jew, either!"

"Cartman, you have to do it," Kenny said in between outbreaks of laughter. Cartman glared at him before walking over to me, shoving the wall of Stan's house, and with anger in his eyes he shoved his mouth over mine. It was odd, though, because soon as he touched me, his anger melted. I heard a yell from the rest of the guys, "Make it convincing! That includes you, Kyle!" I opened my mouth to protest, forgetting for a moment that I did, in fact, have a person on my face and Cartman slipped his tongue into my mouth as I opened it. I shuttered, and he deepened kiss. I couldn't help it; I let out a moan of pleasure. I forgot yet again whom I was kissing and began to kiss back. God dammit, God DAMMIT. His hands slipped up my shirt…I pushed myself away and looked at him.

"Ew." Stan and the rest looked like they felt really bad for me…'xcept for Kenny.

"I quit," If they really thought they could make me continue that bitch of a game they were crazy. Then I pointed down that street, "I'm going home. Later."

Cartman's Point of View

Well, that was amaz- I mean, disgusting as Hell. I really hate that Jew Rat, you know. I mean, he's so…hate-able what with his…curly, red, fro of hair, his emerald green eyes, his skinny body. He's hideous. Fuck Kenny. For real. After he made me do that unspeakable act, Kahl won't leave my mind alone. I swear it's that Jew magic. GOD. I really should go break into his room and look for something to black mail. Actually, I think I'm going to go do that now. Grabbing my backpack and camera, I climbed out of my window and walked down the street whistling R.E.M's "Losing My Religion," as I went. Don't ask why, I got no clue. I've broken into Kahl's house to many times to count. Finally, I got to the window, looked through, and jumped into the room. Once inside, I heard the shower running and grinned. This is going to be too easy.

SHIT. Why is Kahl so...so…composed? This is fucking impossible. I've looked in his dresser, closet, desk, and bookshelf. There is nothing. I hate you, Kahl. In exasperation, I collapsed on his bed only to find somethings hard and square under my back. Softly, I muttered obscenities as I pulled the book from under me. It's the school yearbook, so I flipped to my class's page. I scanned the page up and down and saw little notes scrawled by each picture in Kahl's handwriting. For example, by Kenny's picture it said- "He's a good friend, just not somebody you can talk to. He's a free spirit," and by Stan's picture it said, "Super Best Friend. 'Nuff said. I'm lucky to have him in my life." I never realized how…sensitive…Kahl is. What a girl. My eyes searched the page for my picture and "comment" but then noticed the comment was whited out and the picture was cut out. Weird.

That's when I glance at everything else that was on the bed…scissors, glue…and a notebook. I picked it up gingerly and opened to the last used page…which had my yearbook picture on it. Wow, dude. Instead of a small little analysis in the yearbook, he actually had to write an entire fucking page with a comment thing. I've always hated reading, but whatever. It read:
Eric Cartman is a manipulative bastard. He is also quite the narcissist. I think I'm gonna blame his mother for this a bit…she doesn't really act like a mom, does she? Ms. Cartman spoils fatass beyond believe…and that made him a fatass. He's also bisexual, but denies it, which is rather funny. Actually, the irony of it is screamingly funny. I hate him with a passion, but I enjoyed it when he kissed me. Pathetic. He also has nice eyes…Eric Cartman is a bastard.

It proceeded to call me a bastard, a manipulative bastard, and a fatass some fifty other times. Stupid Jew. Wait. BACKTRACK. He liked it when I kissed him and my eyes? What the Hell? And I'm not bi! So, I was repeating "What the Hell" so many times that I didn't notice when the shower stopped running…I still didn't notice when Kahl walked into the room. However, I did notice when he yelled me…I did not jump though.

"CARTMAN. WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM…is that? Oh-"
"Yes, Kahl, I know." I quickly composed myself into extremely manipulative mode.

"Know what?" He asked half-heartedly.

"That you totally have the hots for this guy," I smirked.

Kahl looked up and his eyes blazed. "I do not!"

"You do! You said you liked it when I kissed you!"

"Doesn't mean I like you!"

"Does too!"
"Does not! And besides, you can't deny you liked it too!"

"Watch me."
"You're a hypocrite."

"Probably. But I'm a loved hypocrite."

"Where the Hell are you from?"
"Does it matter?"
Awkward silence follows. Fantastic.

"Fine. I like you. You happy? Now, get out," Kyle muttered.

I felt a grin spread across my face. "What's that Kaaaahl?"

He straightened up, looked me in the face, and said strongly, "Fine. I like you. You happy? Now, get out."

Why is my "laughing at Kahl's humiliation," feeling disguising itself as a happiness feeling? Seriousleh, you guys. That's messed up.

I burst out laughing. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. THAT IS SOOO LAME."

In two steps, Kyle was right. In front. Of me. It was kinda freaky. Then he kissed me!

God dammit, God dammit. Why am I kissing back? I hate the Jewrat! Why am I so happy? Why are my arms around his neck? Why is he smiling into my mouth? He ends the kiss and I stagger backwards.

"Told you that you liked it," Kyle said chuckling.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

"Shut up, Jew!"


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