Girls love Kyle. I love reviews. 3 We're a perfect match.
Like every other living thing on this planet, Kyle Broflovski had an ass. A rear end, a booty, a butt, but the only important term for it was ass. Because an 'ass' is what all the giggling high school girls called it. Or, more precisely, a 'tight ass', with emphasis on the tight. Kyle, of course, with a loving boyfriend, Stanley Marsh, and a homosexual agenda, took the compliments as high school girl chatter and nothing more for quite some time. That is, until the notes started to arrive. It happened the same every time, and, much to his and Stan's annoyance, and grievance.
No less than four girls scurried up to the pair, who were at Kyle's locker, and pooled around them, as if one of the boys had just pissed himself an ocean of females. The noise was dreadful. One of them shoved a note, neatly folded and colored with a pink highlighter, in Kyle's face, before leaning up to his ear and whispering, 'I don't like you, they just dared me to at Catherine's sleepover last Saturday.' Before blushing, waving, and promptly getting the hell out of there, thereby disproving everything she had just said.
"Goddammit. Another one?" Stan sneered after the horde of girls and went back to looking through his boyfriend's locker. The dark haired boy hated the fact, the number, of how many of the resident girls were lusting after Kyle, though, to be honest, it just made the Jew more valuable to him. He wasn't quite sure what would happen if he and his auburn haired sex God were to come out to the girls, although he desperately hoped if, and when, they did, the interest in him would be lost.
Kyle merely nodded, without glancing at Stan, and tossed his newfound love note into the plastic bag, where it belonged. With all the other notes. Stan reached in after it and upon retrieving it, opened it and began to read. Kyle tried to grab it from him, but didn't succeed.
"Dude!" He griped. " Don't you think that's a little disrespectful?" Stan glanced at him for a moment before tossing the note back in, obeying like a dog on a tight leash.
It wasn't until later that night that Stan's contemplation of the thirteenth love letter took its dreadful, dreadful, toll. So far, there had been poems, jewelry, gifts of all sorts, and just about everything else they could think of, but today's had crossed the line. The girl had given him a voodoo doll of herself. With a note that said that he could do whatever he wanted to her. The boys, being boys, had set it on fire and thrown it into Stark's Pond. Either way, the message of the girls was clear: We all just love your ass, Kyle!
And so, it was the next day, on their way to lunch, at the arrival of the fourteenth love letter, that Stan snapped. He took the note from Kyle's hands, put it into his back pocket, and stared the mob of girls in their confused, dumbass faces. "You all worship Kyle, right?" He growled.
The girls had slowly nodded, exchanging glances.
"And you adore his rippling abs, right?"
Approval all around.
"You're infatuated with his curly hair, and his toned legs, and his sexy smile, I know, but, the thing you love most about Kyle, is. His. Ass. RIGHT?" He snarled. He didn't wait for any nods this time. "Well. So. Am. I."