Kyle slowly opened his eyes. His entire face was sore from last night. He'd felt as if he'd never get to sleep.

He turned onto his side to stare at the posters on the wall, as if they held some answer as to what to do now. He just had to get up and go to school, he guessed? It was so fucked up. This was so fucked up. How was he expected to go back to school after what happened yesterday? He'd seen a lot of death; South Park in general had seen a lot of death, a disproportionate amount considering the meager population of the town, but this was different. This was one of his best friends, and, as cruel as it was to say, that changed everything.

Except he had to go to school as if it hadn't changed everything.

"Kyyyyyle! I don't hear running water up there! Go get ready, you're going to be late!"

Kyle cringed as he heard his mom yell at him from downstairs. On a normal school day, he'd be up as soon as the alarm went off. He was sort of a morning person. He just... just couldn't find it in him today.

"KYLE!"

"Coming, mom." He murmured. He forced himself out of bed. It felt like there was some outside force, playing with his body like it was an action figure, making him move towards the bathroom.

All in all, it fucking sucked.

Kyle went and had a morning shower, went to the bathroom, washed his hands, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, put on lotion... the rest of the household had sort of become used to his morning routine, but since he got up later than usual, he found Ike banging on the door and telling him to "Stop being such a girl and come out already."

It was still sort of gross that everyone else seemed to think that doing those things was girly, and not normal, but today he couldn't really bring himself to care. Why did it matter if he brushed his hair? It wasn't like anyone was going to see it anyway, and if it got tangled into a horrible mass, he could deal with it later. When he didn't feel like garbage.

He got dressed. Skipped breakfast, because he was running late, and wasn't really hungry for waffles anyway. Grabbed his backpack, and his homework, which he had done, because even with the death he had standards, and made his way to the bus stop.

It was another cold day in South Park, Colorado. It never seemed to be anything else. Spring and fall were week-long sneezes, and even in the summer, it only ever reached 50 degrees. The snow cover was so thick by now that it never left the ground. Kyle shuffled through the frigid weather to the bus stop. He hoped desperately that the bus would come early, not just because of the weather, but because he didn't want to make small talk. He wasn't in the mood.

He took his place in line.

"Hey, Kyle." Stan called. He seemed fine, at least. Kyle knew how torn up he'd been at the last scare.

"Hey." Kyle replied. He couldn't really bring himself to sound alright.

"Hey, Kyle, are you on your period or something? Did you find out you paid ten cents extra for something you could have gotten for a dollar? Controlling the media getting old?"

There was a brief silence as Kyle stared at Cartman.

He wanted to say he didn't believe that anyone could be so heartless, but it was Cartman. He wanted to say that he couldn't believe that anyone in the world would be so callous, so unfeeling, that they would blurt out Jew jokes at a time like this, but it was Cartman. And he wanted to say that he didn't start contemplating murder, but it was CARTMAN. The fat asshole was always a thorn in his side, but Kyle had even less patience for it than normal, and—And he hadn't even shut up. He kept going.

"What? Look, Jew, I understand. I do. But it's okay! You can just steal that ten cents back from normal, God-fearing Christians, and everything will be okay. Now, you have to understand, if you do that, I'll be forced to stop you, but I'm sure you're used to dealing with-"

"Listen fatass, if you don't shut your goddamn mouth just THIS ONCE, I'll shut it for you! How the fuck can you say that!? Stan, why the fuck are YOU just sitting there and letting this fat fuck say all that?!"

Stan looked taken aback. Well, fuck him! These weren't normal circumstances, and if he was just going to let Cartman say all that bullshit at a time like this, Kyle wasn't going to take it sitting down! Stan was already muttering something about how he didn't like getting in the way of them, and how Kyle really had to calm down, and how he didn't know what had gotten into him, and Kyle desperately wanted to tear into him, too.

Stan was his best friend, sure. Stan was a great guy. But this was on another level, and it wasn't the time for his apathy, or self-centeredness.

"FUCK YOU, KYLE! I'm not fat!" The familiar words came out of Cartman's mouth and Kyle felt sick. Somehow, hearing something so familiar at a time like this just made everything worse. Stan was looking at Kyle with serious concern as he trembled and clenched his fists. Kyle could already tell Stan was going to take him aside at some point during the day, when it wouldn't make a scene, and tell him to calm down, or, or that he was being a dick, or something.

"Look, Kyle, it's pretty fucking offensive that you're taking something I'm genetically predisposed to, and making fun of it. Real mature."

Cartman continued to talk, and Kyle tuned out. He knew it'd be something despicable. He knew that, in other circumstances, he'd be all over listening and pointing out every single way the words out of Cartman's mouth made him look like a disgusting fat idiot. It was just that, right now, the snow that had crusted on his socks and was starting to melt into them was looking way more interesting than that.

"Look, back me up here, is Kyle being a huge Jew dick, yes or yes? Kenny?"

Kyle's head jolted upwards as if he'd been electrocuted. He stared at the end of the line.

Kenny was there, late as always, mumbling something through his parka about how Cartman was a fatass AND Kyle was an idiot.

There was no sign that he'd been torn apart by wild dogs the previous day. There was no sign that he'd been cremated, that there'd been a funeral. There was no sign that the parka he was currently wearing had been burned with the rest of him, had been shoved in a little golden urn. There was no sign that his eyes had been torn out, and his stomach ripped apart. There was no sign that the body had been so mangled that they couldn't even show it at the funeral.

"Kenny!?" Kyle reached over to pull Kenny's hood down, to check his face, to make absolutely sure there weren't any scars. Kenny struggled, yelled some muffled obscenities, and managed to shove him off with a little help from Stan.

"Dude, are you okay?" Stan asked as he let go of Kyle. Kyle managed to tear his eyes away from Kenny. Stan was staring at him as if he'd threatened to kill the president, or something.

"No, of course Kyle isn't okay." Cartman said before Kyle could even try to explain himself, or ask Kenny what the fuck was going on. Cartman tented his fingertips. He looked as if he was imitating a businessman he saw on TV. "Obviously, our little Kyle has gone through some serious changes. The sight of Kenny must have triggered something deep within him. Something he can't explain. Kyle, have you been overly interested in Butters, lately? Watching the Disney channel a little too closely?"

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman, I'm not gay." Kyle said. That distracted him for a moment, but it was brief, and he found himself staring at Kenny's gloved hands. He'd seen them torn off with his own eyes, and in his head, he could still hear the crunching...

"Seriously, Kyle, are you okay?" Stan asked. This couldn't wait for lunch anymore, obviously.

"Dude, of course I'm not okay. Are we all just going to stand around and ignore the fact that Kenny's here?"

Stan blinked. After a moment, he realized that Kyle wasn't going to clarify what the fuck he was talking about, and he just had to respond to... whatever the fuck that was. Kyle hated that he could read that on his face so clearly.

"...Uh. I mean, I know Kenny skips school a lot, but it's not that big a deal? Dude, chill out."

"Not that big a deal!? Stan! You were at the funeral yesterday! You SAW the body!"

"My god, he's experiencing a psychotic break. We have to pull him out of school, get him hooked up to machines, make sure no one else at school is exposed to his insanity!"

"Shut up, Cartman, I'm not crazy. Crazy isn't contagious, anyway, otherwise we'd have gotten it from you years ago. Look, Stan, help me check Kenny for scars, maybe, maybe he was cloned, or something."

Stan said nothing. He was still staring at Kyle. Kyle stared back, waiting for him to give some sign of recognition, anything at all. There was a pause before Stan took a step forward and awkwardly took Kyle around the shoulder.

"Look, Kyle. Maybe you... SHOULD stay out of school? Just for a day? Uh. Go to a doctor, or something."

"What!?" Kyle exclaimed, moving back. "No! I'm not crazy, dude, just listen to me!"

"I know, I know!" Stan assured him, moving his hands as if he was trying to calm an animal. "Look, dude, I know, you're not crazy, I've known you for years. Just. Maybe you're sick, or something? I dunno, dude, this is some serious shit."

"Stan, I swear to god I'm not crazy." Kyle said. This was starting to freak him the fuck out even worse. The combination of the stress from yesterday, and Stan acting like he'd gone batshit, and Kenny—Wait, Kenny! That was it!

"Look, Kenny. You know what I'm talking about, right? You have to. You don't just. You don't just forget about being torn apart by wild dogs, right?"

Kenny had been silently watching this entire time. The small sliver of his face that was visible through his hood was pale, though it was impossible to tell if it was from what was going on, or just the fact that it was cold as fuck.

After a moment, he gave a small, helpless shrug.

Kyle's face fell. Cartman made a hissing noise through his teeth.

"Ooooh, Kyle, bad news. You're a hundred percent insane. See, even Kenny agrees. Maybe even a hundred and two percent insane."

Stan glared at him. For a moment, before Stan said anything, Kyle felt a brief glimmer of hope that, maybe, even if he didn't remember, Stan believed him? It was sort of a stretch. There was no way that Kyle would believe himself, if he couldn't remember, but maybe Stan had a little more faith?

"Look, Cartman." Stan said. "You better not tell anyone at school about this and make it a big fucking deal like you always do. Let's just forget about it. If you don't tell anyone, I'll give you five bucks later."

"Deal."

Kyle stared at the ground. Kenny stared at Kyle. The bus arrived.