I don't own South Park. I wish I did, seriously, but I don't.
The book that is being narrated in the first chapter is entitled, Dr. Dolittle's Puddleby Adventure, by Hugh Lofting. I honestly have nothing against him except for the fact that the book is a bit boring.
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"It was about this time that the Dog Ambulance was started. This institution (the idea, you may remember, was originally Jip's) belonged to and was organized entirely by the Club. It was the first thing of it's kind in history. And I felt that a description of it and the events that accompanied it's inauguration could quite fittingly be included in my book, Tales of the Home for Crossbred Dogs. One consulting Jip I found that he agreed with me and we decided to put it in following the Dalmatian's Story." I glanced up. "'kay, so what was the summary of that paragraph?"
The pale-faced boy scribbled quickly down onto the notebook he had balanced upon his left knee. He paused, and gnawed on the eraser for a few seconds. "The narrator is telling the reader that information about the Dog Ambulance should be included in his book." He cleared his throat, one fist pressed against his chest.
"You doing okay?" I asked, wincing slightly and watching as the boy squinted his eyes together in a strained expression, trying to keep himself from coughing.
He opened one eye. "I fucking hate Dr. Dolittle. I think Hugh Lofting's sucky-ass writing skills is making the infection worse." He cracked a grin. "Help me. I'm dying."
I poked him in the shoulder with the corner of the book, smirking. "Sure you are. Leave me something nice in your will."
He flashed me the thumbs up. "Gotcha," His grin faded, and he sighed. "Goddamn. I hate having to miss so much school."
"At least you got me, dude." I shrugged. "I mean, since you're so anal about studying… God, I'd LOVE to have a lung infection right about now."
"Shut up… God, 9th grade sucks. Being sick sucks."
"Yeah." I nodded, smirking. "It does."
"I honestly don't give two shits about the Dog Ambulance." The boy leaned up against the headboard of his bed with a sigh. "I just have to get the homework done or else it'll just accumulate all over the place. My chest hurts like a bitch so it's so hard to concentrate…"
"Aww, poor baby." I simpered, "Poor you. It must suck to miss to much school."
My companion laughed, and then clutched his chest. After closing his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth, his head hung, he finally mumbled, "Ow."
"Dude, maybe we should just call it a night." I closed the book, and heaved myself off the bed. "You need rest."
He shrugged. "I... um…. You sure you don't want to stay?" He cocked his head up at me, his eyes rather pleading. "I mean… I don't have to stop studying yet."
I grinned and leaned down to him. "Come on… you need to sleep. You're sick and you need to get better. And grinding your brain down to a liquidized pulp probably won't help your immune system… please?" I brushed a lock of curled hair from in front of his eyes, and gently tugged the notebook away from him.
He didn't tear his eyes from me, but nodded shortly. "Will you be back later?" He blurted, kneading a corner of his blanket between his fingers.
"Sure. If you want."
"I want." He said, smiling slightly. "Definitely." He reached up and gently touched my cheek. His hand was icy cold, but the touch send a rush of warmth through my body.
"Okay. Be back at 6:00." I promised, then leaned down to press my lips to his. He returned the kiss hungrily, as I ran a hand through his coiled hair. I loved the feel of it. We broke apart, and locked eyes again. "See you then." I whispered, running a finger over the outer shell of his ear. I felt him shudder vigorously.
"Okay." He managed to gasp, as I coursed my index finger along his jaw line. God, how I loved making him squirm.
I finally pulled away, giving him a final mischievous wink, and picked up my backpack. "Bye." I headed for the door, grinning, and began to edge out the room.
"Stan?"
I glanced back. "Yeah?"
"I love you."
I smiled. "Love you too, Kyle."
