Tales of Two Cynics

Plot Summary: She's an outcast, even ostracized by the outcasts. Her sharp mind and even sharper tongue doesn't make her a popular person. She's Henrietta, and we'll look at the world through her eyes and sees how she befriends Kenny McCormick and how high school drama is just as common as air.

HDM: It was an idea or two, don't worry BB will still continue, but I have ADD and I'm getting bored a bit so I'm doing this for a bit. This is a little lighter than BB, more dark humor and satire than angsty goodness I love to write. I do not know about the pairings or if there will be any...this story doesn't really have much romance.

POV: 1st and 3rd, I will say which one it is in the beginning. The first chapter or introduction is Henrietta's. It will mostly be cut into half...one half of the story in one POV and the other half in another POV...so you get 2 viewpoints on the same day.


Chapter I

Fighting Brings Friendship

Henrietta's POV

The school cafeteria is the watering hole of the savanna known as high school. Here we see the jocks and popular kids huddles together in the center of the room so everyone can envy their greatness. Next we have the different cliques at their respective tables. We have the art freaks, the druggies, the nerds, the ethnic, the Goths, the scene kids, I could go on and on. It's funny when you hear of kids saying they aren't in a clique or a gang when they stick together in their inner circle tighter than glue. I can say honestly I was in with the outcasts, the Goths. What do you call someone who is kicked out by the outcasts? Outcast of outcasts, it sounds like a catchy title of a horrible emo band.

My name is Henrietta.

I'm sitting in the back of the cafeteria with my music blaring obscenities. I've thinned out since grade school but not significantly, I grew breasts and they hide anything extra. I have dark mocha colored hair because the black has faded and I'm too lazy to re dye my head. I have layered hair and it's down to my shoulders but it is pulled back in a clip because I don't give a fuck what I look like in school. I have hazel eyes rimmed with thin black eyeliner on my lower lid and red shadow on the upper lid. I have a Children of Bodom t-shirt and faded blue jeans severely ripped and frayed on the bottom. I have black and red Chucks to match my wonderful ensemble.

I admit I'm vain even when sometimes I don't think I have the right to be. Who else would say so much about themselves? I think before this story should even go on I should talk about grade school and move up to why I'm sitting as far away as the Goth kids I can possibly be.

It actually started after Stan Marsh left the group to go back to his friends.

I don't want to say that the boy completely changed my life but it made me re think my life and why did I hate it so much. I decided that wallowing in my own self-pity was pretty immature. At that point, my parents cared and loved me, although their actions to this day still disturbed me. I wrote horrible poetry to be honest, and it wasn't even about it being too dark or angsty, it just plain sucked. I mean, Poe and Dickinson didn't write about romantics and humanism but it was still amazing.

Being a 'non conformist' had a lot of fucking rules that I could and could not do. I couldn't paint or write anything but dark or depressing, I couldn't wear anything but black and wear heavy makeup, I wasn't allowed outside when it was sunny for long periods of time, and I couldn't talk to any 'conformists' unless they were a potential recruit. I can't tell you how many times I had to listen to Marilyn Manson blaring out of the stereo and how much coffee I drank before I would throw up at the mere smell.

The breaking point was when Red (yes, even we don't know his name) tried to make a move with me. We were outside Denny's smoking a cigarette a couple of years back, I'm going to say right before high school. He was bitching about his parents and I was just listening as usual.

"Hey, you look really good tonight, Ri" he added, changing the subject all together. I some what blushed at the remark, I'm not used to compliments. I had a crush on Red for a year; he was the typical Goth boy, even the nail polish and some eye shadow. "Thanks Red..." I say out of lack of a better use of language.

He had a t-shirt with 'I like my coffee black, just like my metal' on the front and Mindless Self Indulgence on the back with Tripp pants and boots. He looked me up and down. Now, even though I did like this kid, no one treats me like meat. He pushes himself onto me and sticks his tongue down my throat. I bit his tongue and kicked him in the balls. I threw my cigarette butt right next to his recoiled body.

Ever since that day I've been by myself. Sometimes I think about going back to the Goths, I mean they are the only people I've ever associated with in my life, aside from my family. Then again, I'm glad I'm not with them. I mean, I feel much liberated from their dark chains. Sure, I didn't go through a Meta Noia and I'm a completely different person, I just wear blue jeans and Queen. It doesn't seem like much of a change from an outsider's point of view but it is to me.

I am getting some of my poems published in a local magazine once in a while and I have my artwork up on deviantart being sold weekly. Sure, some of it is dark but a lot is just me being a cynic. What's wrong with liking Johnny the Homicidal Maniac and also loving funny shows like Venture Brothers?

The bell rings horribly loud, allowing us to leave the smelly cafeteria. I have a free eighth so I just leave through the back doors. I walk toward the student parking lot towards my little black Neon. Right before I go to the car I heard shouting. I turn to see that there's a fight going on. I was going to ignore it like any normal person would but I saw Red fighting. I push my way through to see that he's fighting Kenny McCormick. Kenny is pushed right into me, knocking us both down. I land on my ass while he lands between my legs.

"Get off!" I yell, mostly out of shock. He quickly gets up and offers his hand. I oblige as I glare at Red. He storms away with his Goth posse and the rest of the crowd drift away. "Are you alright?" Kenny asks me. "Yeah I'm fine, hey why were you fighting Red anyway?" I ask casually.

"He was being a dick and saying shit about someone named Henrietta and I told him to shut the fuck up and one thing led to another..."

"What was he saying about her?"

"Just that she's a conceited bitch and that she'll come crawling back...why do you want to know?"

"I'm Henrietta..."

His face washes out and gave me almost an apologetic look. "Sorry about that...geez I feel like an asshole..." he scratches the back of his head. I just laughed it off. He eased up as well. We walked toward my car and all the while I couldn't help but stare at him. He had his dark blonde hair in a low ponytail. He had facial hair on his chin and a little on his upper lip but it gave him a distinctive look. His eyes gleamed an unnaturally bright blue. He wore a gray-blue t-shirt and light blue jeans and a dirty pair of white sneakers. He's attractive, and he looks like he knows this fact.

"Is there something on my face?" he breaks my concentration and like the ass I am I'm caught staring. "Uh, nothing..." I reply stupidly. He laughs at my comment. "Hey, you're funny..." he points out to me like I've never known.

"Not always, people mostly think I'm a bitch..." I reply curtly, making him some more. This guy has a real sense of humor.

"Well, here's my car...do you need a ride?" I ask him casually. I didn't hear an answer; instead I see him already sitting in my car smiling at me. I'm outside of my car, standing there like an ass...just staring.

That's how our friendship began...whether it was by fate or just sheer luck; I haven't a clue.

Kenny's POV

I use school as another location to sleep half the day away. The good thing about is that the cafeteria food is easier to put down than the stuff I have at my house. I'm sitting in the hallway outside the cafeteria, actually. I don't really associate with anyone in seventh lunch. Most of the kids are just dicks anyway.

Cartman is walking through the halls toward the bathroom when he spotted me, unfortunately. You could consider us friends if you ignore our constant bickering and lack of friendliness. Then again, we don't have anyone else so we tolerate each other's presence. Doesn't that sound like such a healthy relationship?

"Kenny, you dickhead! Where's my money?" he barks at me. I let out an exaggerated yawn and looked up at the lard ball. He's about five eleven and at least three hundred. He's wearing a Broncos jersey and extremely baggy pants. His pudgy hand is extended, showing that he wants my payment now.

See, I gamble and I drink...a deadly combination. Cartman's my bookie and my beer supplier so now we've been a teeny bit nicer to one another. I slip him two twenties into hand. His sausage fingers wrap around the money and it disappears into his jeans pocket.

I look into the cafeteria to see if I know anyone and I saw this girl by herself in the back. She had dark brown hair and a Children of Bodom shirt on. She had a pretty face and a full body. Cartman waves his hand in front of my face, snapping me back into reality.

"The race is tomorrow and you're betting on Retardo..." Cartman sneers.

"Retardo? Who the fuck names their horse Retardo?" I ask him.

"Someone who's fucking retarded as well. Don't worry, it's a 50/1 shot so you'll reel in some cash."

I don't really question Cartman's judgment. He's been correct the past five times and besides, I wouldn't put my life savings on one horse. The bell rings so everyone starts leaving or going to his or her eighth period. I walk out the door and toward my house when I run into the Goth kids in front of me. Red, who's the biggest dick and pothead in this school, keeps bitching about this girl Henrietta.

I don't know why it bothered me so much. Maybe it was because I wanted a reason to pick a fight with him. Maybe I felt sympathy for the girl being called 'a worthless cunt' over and over again. Maybe it was because I know how it feels when people bad mouth you when you didn't do anything. Or, I'm just a stupid jackass who loves to pick a fight...I like that answer.

"Dude, shut the fuck up you pussy..." I yell at him. He turns toward me and flips his hair. His posse gives me all the same death glare.

"You shut up McCormick, I wasn't talking to you." he spats back.

"Well maybe I don't want to here you bitching another second..." I sneer. He pushes my shoulders back. I swing my fist and I connect with his cheek. People wrap around us as we continue to fight.

He shoves me backwards; making me hit someone. I heard a girl's voice yell, "Get off!" I look to see it was the same girl from the cafeteria. I quickly get up and extend my hand, helping her up. Red decide to quickly leave the fight area and so did everyone else.

I talk to her for a bit and I found out that she was the Henrietta that Red was cursing about. I don't see why he was so cruel about her; I mean she wasn't a bitch to me. I remember her back in grade school. She had short black hair, wore all black, and was kind of heavy. She doesn't look like that anymore. Well, it is about a six year different. She doesn't have so much black makeup and no corsets and crosses. She looks, almost normal...I say almost because there's something about her that's just bizarre.

She has been staring at me for a while. I break her stare quickly with one word. I don't think it was so bad; I'm actually flattered. Mostly, I try to blend in with the crowd so I'm not so noticed. It's kind of nice to be noticed. She asked me if I wanted a ride but out of mere habit I am already in the car. She's staring at me outside the car, almost dumbfounded of my assertiveness. I couldn't help but smile.

"So, you're not with the Goth kids?" I ask her casually.

"No, I'm such a non conformist that I'm not conforming to their rules..." she replies, her sentence dripping in sarcasm. She had the monotonous Goth tone down pat that it's not depressing it's satirical. She smiles at her own comment as I flip through the radio.

"Any reason why you left them?"

"Red's a dick and everyone there has no identity. Frank, the taller Goth, left the group because he moved. I talk to him on AIM sometimes."

"Yeah but why did you leave?"

"Um, I couldn't stand hearing the suck ass dark poetry."

We both laugh at the comment. She turns down Main and we continue bashing on the Goth kids as if we knew each other for years. It is kind of nice to talk to someone who's so refreshing from the average norm. She drives up to Dunkin Doughnuts and orders a mocha latte.

"You want anything?"

"Uh, just a strawberry smoothie..."

"It's below freezing and you want a smoothie?!"

"Yeah?"

She parks the car in the driveway so she could fix her latte. She starts mixing the whip cream around her straw. "So, you still like coffee?" I ask stupidly. She looks up at me and shoots me a smirk. "No, just the whip cream." she says simply. And sure enough, she just eats the whip cream.

This will be a... wonderful friendship...

End of Chapter I


HDM: Love it or hate it, tell me please. This is a practice chapter...I'm trying out this new way of storytelling.

XxHDMxX

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