Hello, South Park! Mayflower here with another South Park onesie! ...Wait, what do you mean this looks familiar? You say you saw this story last year? When it was actually relevant?
Well, alright, you caught me. Yes, I HAVE posted this story before; it was originally posted the night of May 21st, 2011, the night of the alleged rapture on which this story is based. However, I extended that story by adding a second chapter, with plans of dragging it out into a big, long, epic 'Dante's Inferno' parody. Since we've moved on from this time in history, though, as well as the great Laptop Implosion of 1-12, I've decided against this course of action. I loved this piece as a one-shot, and so I've decided that that's how it's going to stay.
Alright, with that said, let's get on with the show all over again!
LAWYERBOT SAYS: "REPENT FOR YOUR SIN-Wait, the rapture didn't happen after all? Damn."
South Park, both the show and its inhabitants, (c) Comedy Central
Comedy Central (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone
The summary is an excerpt from "The Second Coming", (c) William Butler Yeats
This story was inspired by the doomsday predictions of Harold Camping, who predicted the Rapture to occur on May 21st, 2011.
All characters and events in this fanfiction, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.
The following story contains coarse language, and due to its content, should not be read by anybody.
Ripping winds. Trembling earth. Thunder. Lightning. Screaming. Crying.
I wish something – ANYTHING – would drown out the noises from outside. We all know the end is here. Do we have to listen to it?
But no – the room is dead silent. Well, almost – Kyle's whimpering like a baby, but he's been doing that since the storms started. I've practically tuned it out at this point, and I'm sitting right next to him. Everyone else is silent – Stan, Clyde, Wendy, Bebe, Token, Craig, Butters…even Cartman, for fuck's sake. I never thought I'd see the day where I WANT the fat-ass to start ranting about how hippies and Jews are gonna kill us all.
Then again, I also never thought I'd see the end of the world. I guess our little Nazi's just holdin' his breath and trying to make sure his fat mouth doesn't screw him outta Heaven.
That's probably what everyone's thinking. I know that's why Kyle's crying. ("My ancestors crucified Jesus! Of COURSE I'm going to Hell! God-dammit, I KNEW being Jewish was going to get me in trouble one day! I TOLD Mom it was a bad idea!") Little South Park, Colorado, filled with some of the most moral, upstanding Christians ever. Well, Judgment day's here – doesn't look like Jesus is happy.
You'd think he'd give us a little more slack. Maybe he's still mad about the wrestling match thing? I don't know – I mean, we've saved the guy and his birthday party more times than I can count. And to think, Kyle's birthday would've been this Thursday – maybe this is how Jesus throws a party?
But whatever. I didn't think to ask God what his plans were last time I was in Heaven. (To put it lightly, I was…preoccupied. (To put it as I normally would, I was gettin' some.)) He wants to fast-forward the process and take everyone he wants up to Heaven and leave everyone else to rot, no skin off my back.
Heaven's a nice place, I'll give him that. But Hell's not that bad, either. Satan's a pretty nice guy once you get to know him. …And, you know, he's not pounding butt with Saddam Hussein. Earth's the place I get fuckin' sick of. In Heaven, I was an angel. In Hell, I was a prince of darkness. Here, I'm just a poor boy in an orange coat. That blonde kid who dies every other day. Or at least I would be if anyone FUCKIN' REMEMBERED THAT PART.
I just hope this'll be the last one. Heaven, Hell, who gives a fuck? So long as I don't wake up in my bed tomorrow morning and realize I'm the only person who'll remember this night.
I pull my knees up to my chin and look down at the menorah sitting in the center of our circle. We all ran back to Kyle's house when the storms started – Stan's dad turned his into a Jesus-bunker, and Cartman's was too far away, so it was the best we could do. When the rolling blackouts hit, all we could find was this damn menorah. Terrible symbolism, but I guess you gotta do what you gotta do for light and heat. Though I'd like to see this dinky little candlestick actually burn for eight days straight.
Pfft. If I weren't looking the flames dead-on, I might've missed it. Wendy and Kyle caught it, but for a brief moment, no one else reacted.
One of the candles went out.
Kyle's whimpering silenced immediately. Wendy threw her arms around Stan with a gasp. Eventually, everyone else caught on, and the room was filled with a moment of hard silence.
"See, Kahl? Told ya no Jew candle's gon' burn eight days straight! This one didn't even last a few damn hours!" Cartman snapped.
"CARTMAN!" the boys groaned. I just snickered (thank God for this hood – I'd be catching so much grief for laughing this whole thing off if the boys could see my face). Leave it to Cartman to sneak in one last Jewish-joke before Armageddon.
For once, though, Kyle didn't look phased. "That doesn't make any sense," he said quietly, moving closer to the menorah. We all knew what was coming – anyone who's sat next to Broflovski on a test knows how to see the wheels turning in those green eyes of his. "The wick's still intact, the wax shouldn't be interfering, the air's not humid, there's no way any of us could've just blown out one by accident…"
That's when the second went out. Then the third.
"Oh, Jesus, that can' be good!" Butters finally piped up, fidgeting with his hands as usual.
"Guys, they're candles," Stan tried to reassure everyone, wrapping an arm around Wendy. "Candles go out. It doesn't mean anything."
Candle four. Candle five.
"Yeah, no, that definitely means something," Clyde pointed out nervously.
"Oh, my God, what do we do?" Craig asked nervously.
"We fucking die, Craig, what do you THINK we're fucking gon' do?" Cartman snapped.
"Oh, Jesus, I don' wanna die!" Butters cried.
"Guys, no one's dying yet!" Stan yelled, trying to regain control. Poor Stan – he's always been the perfect leader, but being captain of almost every team doesn't win you brownie points with God.
Candle six. It might just be me, but it sounds like the storms from outside are getting closer.
…No, wait, definitely not just me. The storms are getting closer.
"This is all yer faul', Kahl!" Cartman snapped, hopping to his feet and starting to pace in a frantic circle. I don't think I've ever seen Cartman so scared before. Good God, I was going to cherish this moment. "If you 'n yer fag Jewfags didn' crucify Jesus, he wouldn' get pissed off 'n destroy da earth!"
Kyle wasn't listening. His hands were clamped over the earflaps of his hat, eyes shut tight and lips moving in a frightened murmur. I couldn't make it out exactly, but it sounded like Hebrew. Probably a last-minute prayer.
He (and everyone else) jolted back to reality when a crack of lightning outside shook the house. To think, I probably would've been standing outside, ready to take that hit if Stan and Kyle didn't grab me on their run for shelter earlier.
That's when candle seven went out.
"Stan, no matter what happens, you're still the best super-best-friend a kid could have and we've had really great lives up 'til now!" Kyle cried, clinging to Stan's arm.
Stan freed his arm and loosened his hold on Wendy to instead grab hands with Kyle – the two have been glued at the hip since as long as I've known them, probably longer. It'd be a shame if they didn't go out the same way. "I know, Kyle," he agreed, trying to keep a smile on (though even the dimness of a single candle didn't cover up that tear running down his cheek). "Wouldn't change it for the world, super-best-friend."
"Guys, I'm sorry about all the shit I've pulled!" Cartman blurted out. "I'mma dick, I know, an' I'm sorry!" Eric Cartman – professional brown-noser.
"If we're spillin' things last minute, I don' really hate you guys," Craig added to the mix. "If we survive this, I would totally hang out with you guys after school."
"What school? It collapsed!" Clyde pointed out.
"Aw, I love every single one'a you guys like my very own big brothers!" Butters sobbed. "Oh, Jesus, I can' do this! I don' wanna see anyone die!"
It seemed like everyone who was going to share their piece did, so with a little sigh, I got up, lowering my hood. When I have something important to say, I usually make it easier for people to hear it.
"Well, we just had a real touchin' moment," I said calmly. "May as well throw my two cents in." I turned to look at my best friends. "Stan, Kyle, thanks for the memories. You two are the best friends a kid could ever want. Cartman, fat, little Nazi that you are, I couldn't picture life without you, either. It'd be too boring." I walked into the center and picked up the menorah. I love being the showstopper – this time, the gag isn't on me. No more killing Kenny for the fun of it, no more calling those bastards out.
"Good luck, you guys. Hopefully, I WON'T be seeing anyone on the other side."
With a puff of my breath, the final candle went out.
Everyone's fate is in God's hands now.
Thanks for reading, everyone! ...Again! XD
§ Tucker's Mayflower, signing off! §