Hi everyone!

This is the first thing I write in over ten years. I am a little rusty, but I'm sure you'll like this story.

Please be advised that this is a dark story: when I'll be finished with it, it will contain explicit language, sex, violence, drugs, alcohol, murder and other assorted crimes. This is for mature audiences only. At my current rate, you can expect 2 new chapters a week. I'm estimating 15-20 chapters.

For the record, I do not own South Park, nor do I intend to make a profit with this fanfic. I have no connection to the creators and if I knew where they were, I'd be on my knees sucking their balls.

Now, please sit back with a glass of wine, or beer, or whatever rocks your world and enjoy.

Reviews are welcomed!

xoxoxo Clotgirl xoxoxo

What if I told you that everything I ever believed about Eric Cartman turned out to be wrong? What if I told you there's more to him than just a foul mouth?

"He's innocent, Stan! We need to get him out of there!"

"Kyle, with all the fucked up things he's done, what makes you so sure?"

"I just know, OK! He could never do that!"

"How can you just know? Dude! He got away with felonies before."

"It couldn't be him."

"What if it was?"

"Stan! He couldn't be at two places at once!"

My Name Kyle Broflovski, I am sixteen years old and I live in South Park, Colorado. I attend Park County High School and I have about a year and a half left before graduation.

I was raised to have strong family values. I was shown to be compassionate and kind towards others. I was taught to question everything and to look for information myself before drawing a conclusion. There was only one thing I was not allowed to question, and that was the life plan that my parents had devised for me before I was even born.

You see, my mother is not from South Park: She was born and raised in Newark, New Jersey. She was a raging party animal and a heavy drinker back then. Whenever I asked her about it, she'd just say that it was a Jersey thing. My father was working on a case and had to stay in Newark for a few months. That's how they met. They dated for a few weeks before my mother became pregnant with me. When she told my father that she was pregnant, he immediately asked her to marry him but that there would be conditions: she had to move to his home town of South Park with him and be a stay at home mom. As for me, I had to become a lawyer like my father and take over his firm, which he took over from his father. Easy, right?

My friends were all told that they could be anything they wanted to be by their parents. To my dismay, my father had thought of every single detail of my existence:

I would finish high school with high honours, attend Harvard law school where I would also graduate with high honours, work at my dad's firm which I would take over upon his retirement, meet a nice Jewish girl that I would marry, have perfect little Jewish kids with her and raise my oldest child to be a lawyer so he or she could take over the firm once I retired.

I had no say in the matter. No matter how many times I tried to talk to them, they never changed their minds. The last time I tried to talk to them, it was pretty brutal. So I gave up asking and devised a plan of my own.

"Kyle, did you read those law books I brought you last week" Says my father, peeking into my room.

"No, dad and I'm not going to read them. I don't want to be a lawyer: I never did. I find law so boring." I reply, turning towards him.

"Kyle, I thought we talked about this!" My father's face is starting to get pink. He's getting pissed off.

"No, you talked. I said no."

My father breathes heavily as my mom fully opens the door and walks in.

"What? What? What? Kyle, Bubbe. You have to start being reasonable about this opportunity. Do you know how many kids would be thrilled to take over a successful law firm? It is guaranteed to be yours." My mother says as nicely as she can.

"It doesn't matter whether you like it or not, Kyle. In truth, it changes nothing. Very little people get to do what they want in life. It's something that you must accept." My father adds.

I don't care how "lucky" I am. I don't want this. I feel an anxiety attack setting in. I am like an animal in a cage.

"Bubbe, people do what they have to do, not what they want to do. Imagine how chaotic the world would be if everyone did as they pleased?" My mother chimes

"That's right Kyle. Who would want to be a garbage man, or a plumber, or even a gynecologist? Yet, without these people, society collapses. The sooner you accept your fate, the easier it'll be for you." My father adds, as calmly as he can.

The mere thought of being my parent's ass puppet makes me gag. My mom glances my way: I can tell she feels bad for me but I know she has to pretty much do as my father says. She is as stuck as I am.

"You can't force me!" I say out of desperation.

My mom shuts her eyes and bows her head as my father walks closer to me and grabs me by the shirt, bringing my face inches away from his.

"You're right son: I can't force you. But as in everything, there will be consequences. You can either do as you are told, or you will be cut off completely: you will pay your own rent, tuition, food, clothes and our doors will be shut. In other words, we will disown you. Understood?"

I feel tears forming in my eyes. My father lets go of my shirt and marches out of my room followed by my mother. As she exits, she quickly glances in my direction before shutting the door behind her: she looks as though she is on the verge of crying. I feel tears streaming down my cheeks. My father doesn't give two fucks about my happiness. All he cares about is his little plan. He'd rather disown me than let me be happy.

To be honest, I have no clue what I want to do in the future and I think it's pretty fucking stupid to force teenagers to pick a career that they will do the rest of their lives. No wonder so many people are fucking miserable: they either select a program that they know will be easy but boring, or their parents "guide" them like mine.

I sit back down at my desk and look at my laptop screen. I fantasize about leaving South Park. I have always wanted to travel and visit places all over the world. I google places I'd like to visit: I wonder what it's like in Tokyo during rush hour, I ponder upon how beautiful Berne must be in winter, I imagine how incredible it would be to climb Mt. Everest and how cool it would be to eat a poutine in Montreal. Thinking of the poutine put a smile on my face: the first time I heard of it, I was in a KFC gravy hot tub with Cartman dipping McDonald fries in it. He forgot that in poutine, you actually need cheese curds to make it authentic.

I sigh knowing that traveling is not part of what my father has planned for me. I can't afford living on my own, and my father knows this. I am trapped in this shit hole. Unless...

It suddenly hits me: I have to get out of this town right after I graduate. I will never live up to my father's expectations. I will not study law, nor will I ever marry a nice Jewish girl, or any girl for that matter. I have never found the courage to tell my parents that I'm into boys. That too would get me automatically disowned and it would certainly break my mother's heart to find out that her precious Bubbe is gay.

I need to find a way to make money without my parents knowing. They wouldn't let me get a job because they want me to focus on my studies so my grades are excellent. It doesn't matter that I have an A average: any further distraction could bring it to A-.

Here's the plan:

Step 1: Find a part-time job that pays a decent wage. A job with tips would be perfect!

Step 2: Save the money. I could even as my cousin Kyle to invest it.

Step 3: After graduation, hit the road and never come back.

Sure, I will miss Stan and Kenny. No, I won't miss Cartman. Through the years, Stan, Kenny, Cartman and I have stuck together for the most part. I can tolerate Cartman as long as we're not alone together for more than a few minutes. I also love to watch him fucking himself over. But becoming a lawyer and coming out are completely out of question. I feel my throat tightening on itself just by thinking about it. I need to lie down. I throw my hat on the floor and strip down to my boxers in order to crawl into bed.

My mind is made up: I will be job hunting as of tomorrow. I'll work as a waiter or even as a barista because of the tips. I would have to go outside of South Park to work, that's for sure! I can't risk being seen by anyone, especially my family or someone that will let them know. My parents would kill me! I need to be focusing on getting accepted at Harvard since I'll be sending out my application next year. If I don't, my parents will be suspicious.I need to find a job close enough so that it doesn't take me forever to get there, but far enough so that only a minimal amount of the people I know go there. I would have to think outside the box for that.

North Park, of course! I heard that there's a whole new district in the northern part of town. It's called NoDoNoPa.

Working in the afternoon or early evenings would be more suitable to accommodate my sleep and school schedule, but it makes it easier for me to be seen by someone I know: my parents shop or dine there occasionally. Working at night could be a good idea because unlike me, my parents sleep like logs and I've snuck out my window a bunch of times and never got caught. I am pretty limited on my choice of jobs though: I'll need to work somewhere that's open twenty four hours a day, most likely a diner or a coffee shop.

I never defied my parents before and the anticipation of actually doing it is giving me a funny feeling. No, scratch that! It feels fucking amazing. In my whole life, I've never felt so liberated and in control. Yes, yes… I should feel bad but guess what?

My dad would rather disown me than allow me to be myself!

And you know what?

So be it!

I'm high on this feeling of rebellion. Why should I respect people that are incapable of respecting me? As soon as I finish high school, I'm out of this shitty depressing place. Fuck going to College right after graduation. I want to travel the world and see as many places and faces as possible. I want to learn by experiencing things rather than memorizing information. I want to feel connected again. I want to live only for myself. And all of South Park can go fuck itself! Don't like it? Whatever! I do what I want!

Gasp!

I just had a Cartman moment. Why won't that fat fuck get out of my head? That ass hole has a way of getting under my skin to the point of making me insane. The worst part is that other than his dirty mouth and selfish personality, Cartman had changed quite a lot since we were kids. He's a fucking giant! He must be around six foot three inches. He also lost a lot of his baby fat and turned out to actually being big boned. He's also grown quite a bit of muscle, but I still call him a fat ass since he calls me a Jew all the time. Come to think about it, he's been looking pretty good since grade ten started.

Why did I just think that? I must be tired due to all the excitement about tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be glorious.

I'm sitting at the table with my family for breakfast and Ike keeps picking on me. I swear to God, my brother can be such a little shit sometimes. He finds it hilarious that my fate is pre-determined while he can pretty much to whatever his heart desires. He loves to rub it in my face and it infuriates, motivating me further to find a job. I'll go to NoDoNoPa right after school to see who is hiring.

"Finally" I say when I finally see Stan's car pulling up in front of home.

I grab my stuff and say goodbye to my family as make my way to the door. I run to Stan's car. Kenny is sitting in the front today, which forces me to sit in the back next to the fat ass Nazi.

"Good morning!" I exclaim as I put on my seatbelt on.

"Morning Kyle" Stan and Kenny reply in unison.

"Sup Jew?" Cartman replies with a smirk.

I let out a long sigh.

"God damn it Cartman! It's not even eight in the morning and you called me a Jew already? Can't you shut your mouth for once?" I say, slightly irritated.

The Giant glares at me, his smirk is growing. He's getting ready for another one of our legendary arguments. Stan and Kenny let out small little sighs of annoyance. I'm pretty sure I heard Stan say "God damn it not again".

"Well excuse me princess Khal! I call you a Jew because that's what you are. I'm not the one who eats Kosher, you are. If you have a problem with being a Jew, it's you parents you should bitch at, not me."

I look at him dead in the eyes: his hazel eyes have little sparks of gold in them and they get wider in anticipation of my response. I'm starting to believe that he gets turned on by confrontation. I look down at his smirk: it has evolved into a full-fledged grin. He infuriates me. My gaze returns to the golden sparks in his eyes.

"Shut the hell up, Fat ass!"

"Don't call me Fat you son of a bitch"

Yeah, he has a point. I will need to come up with new insults for him. He's not fat anymore and I'm still a Jew. My emerald eyes are locked with his.

"Don't call my mom a bitch"

"But Khaaaaal, your mom is a bitch!" Cartman says in his annoying little voice, his eyes narrowing in on mine

"Enough!" Stan snaps.

Cartman and I take our eyes off of each other and turn our attention to the reflection in the rear view mirror of a pissed off Stan.

"Seriously! You guys do that all the fucking time! Can the two of you please grow up? It's starting to get embarrassing, especially when you guys lash out at each other in public. We aren't eight years old anymore! Jesus Christ!" Stan continues, his face growing red.

"Yeah! You guys should just have sex and get it over with." Adds a chuckling Kenny

I sigh and decide to stare out the window, in silence. I start daydreaming about leaving this shit town as I hear Cartman muttering "Shut up Kinny." I can't wait until the end of the day. I told my mom I was going to the library after school and that I'd only be back around dinner time. My ass was covered.

The rest of the day is pretty uneventful: at lunch break, Stan asks me to hang out after school, so I lie to him and tell him I had to finish my biology project: I wasn't going to postpone my job hunt. He finally convinces me to go by after dinner to play video games for a couple of hours. "It'll cheer you up" he says to me. I wonder if I look as miserable as I feel.

The final bell rings and it's the sweetest sound I've heard all day. I wave my friends goodbye and start heading towards the library. The bus stop to go to NoDoNoPa is right next to it. I never walked so fast in my life. Once I finally get on the bus, my heart starts pounding in my chest. I am a nervous wreck, but I have to do this. I need to do this if I want a chance at being happy.

Now that was very disappointing.

Once I got to NoDoNoPa, I walked into 3 coffee shops and got turned down for the night shifts. Something about not being able to let underage employees work past ten o'clock at night. I was offered late afternoons and week-ends by Starshmucks. I said I'll think about it.

I spoke to the manager of a diner called Harley's. He offered to take me as a bus boy for early evenings and weed-ends. When I asked him about night shifts, he also tells me that he won't hire underage employees to work past ten o'clock at night. I said I'll think about it too.

I got home just in time for dinner. I barely say anything at the table. All I hear are my parents praising Ike for his perfect score on last week's math exam. My mother asks me why I'm not touching my food. I let her know that I'm not hungry. I guess I must truly be getting depressed. I excuse myself from the table and inform my picture perfect family that I will be going over to Stan's house to hang out for a bit. My mother glares at me – she hates me leaving the house after dinner on a school night. I tell her Stan and I wanted to study for the upcoming English exam together. That seems to soother her.

I bid my family goodbye and head for the door. As I walk, I feel a crushing pain in my chest as I am starting to realize that working at night won't be an option. I'll have to get really creative to get away working in the afternoons and weed-ends. Maybe wear a fake moustache or wig, or something along these lines.

I sit down on Stan's couch as he puts on Call of Duty. We start playing. My super best friend's house is very quiet: his parents went to Denver to watch a musical called The Book of Mormon. It's supposed to be really good and it won like 9 Tony awards or something. His sister is upstairs spending time with her looser ex-boyfriend Skylar. She used to date that retard when she was 13 and he was like 23 at the time. If you ask me, he's the textbook definition of a douche bag. Stan and I remain in silence for a good fifteen minutes before I feel his stare on me.

"Dude! What's going on with you lately" He asks with concern in his voice.

"Nothing! Why do you ask?" I reply, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

"Kyle, I know something's up. You keep to yourself more than you used to. You barely speak, you barely eat and… I don't know dude! You just seem to be moping around constantly lately. I want to help you."

Shit! I can't tell him what parents want to force me to do, and I sure as hell don't want him to know my plan to get away. I need to think of something fast.

"Stan, I appreciate your concern. I am grateful that you care about me enough to notice and ask me about it. The truth is I've been having bouts of insomnia lately and I haven't slept decently in weeks."

I hate lying, but with what I want to do, I'll need to get used to it. I still feel really bad lying to Stan but I have no choice.

"Kyle, you never told me you had insomnia. Did you see a doctor about it? How long has it been going on?" Stan asks, genuinely concerned.

"Hum, it's been going on for over a month and I'm seeing a doctor next week." I can feel my face turning red. Lying to Stan makes me feel terrible compared to lying to my parents.

Stan looks at me with one eyebrow raised. I hope he takes the bait.

"In any case Stan, can you please, huh, keep quiet about this? I don't really want people to know about my business."

Stan immediately nods "Of course dude! I totally get it. Don't worry: your secret is safe with me. Honestly, I'm glad you told me about it. You've been acting so strange lately that I thought you were going through major depression. I didn't want to see you become one of those faggy goth kids."

I burst into laughter at that last one. Look who's talking. "Ah! Come on! Me? A goth kid? That's so not like me Stan! I love how you're the one that joined them after Wendy dumped you for the first time."

Stan laughs at that too. I still lied to my best friend and I feel a sting of shame in my heart and my cheeks going red again. I feel as though I'm going to cry. I excuse myself from Stan's presence and run to the bathroom upstairs. I splash some cold water on my face and look at myself in the mirror. Despite the hint of shame lingering in my belly and the sting in my eyes, I can't help but be proud of the way I handled that situation.

I had to do what I had to do in order to keep the suspicion down. I succeeded.

Walking out of the bathroom, I overhear a conversation between Shelly and Skylar.

"Oh! Skylar, if only I could get the job, you and I could move out in no time. Sure, it's a late night shift but who cares if I would minimum five hundred bucks per night."

"But Babe, you're too young to work at Vatican! You're not twenty-one yet."

"The owner doesn't care about the girls' age and it pays under the table, you turd!"

"Babe, I don't want you working as a shoot girl! Seriously, young guys are pigs! They'll grab your ass constantly. No girlfriend of mine will be treated like a piece of meat!"

"Oh! Skylar, I guess you're right… I love you"

And off to smooching they go.

I freeze. Maybe this is the job I am looking for: no one would recognize me as a girl. I'd have to find out what this place is all about first though. It sounds like it's a bar or a night club or something. I looked at myself in the hallway mirror: my face has features that are feminine enough, but my hair is a mess. I pull on a curl, to see just how long it is: it goes down to my shoulder more or less. When I let go, it bounces back to my ear. Unless I straighten it, it's not long enough for me to pull off being a girl. Being five foot seven, it's not like I would come off as a freakishly tall chick and I could learn how to do my make up on youtube: all I need is girl clothes and shoes.

I suddenly hear footsteps coming up the stairs

"What's taking you so long?" Stan asked as he turned the corner to face me.

"Oh! Nothing, Stan. I fell asleep on the John." I lied again. I just want to go home and work my plan. I try to look as helpless as possible.

"Holy crap! Go home and try to sleep properly dude! I'll give you a ride." He says gently taking my forearm and leading me back downstairs.

I nod in approval. Lying to Stan is something that I just need to get used to. He can't know about my plan. Despite the pinch in my chest, I needed to get out of here anyways because I had research to do on this Vatican place in NoDoNoPa and I also couldn't bear to keep lying to Stan like this...Not for the time being at least.

I hope you enjoyed.