Whoever said love hurts is a genius.

Whoever said love is wonderful is still a goddamn virgin.

I swear to god, I've never had such bad headaches as I have had this past year and a half. It starts at the very back of your skull and stretches.

Ugh.

My feet are swollen like nothing else and they huuuuurt.

My stomach feels like it's gonna shoot out my ass any second.

But the worst this is my jaw.

Oh my god.

If it's not from smiling so freaking much, it's from other... Activities. Heh. I'm not saying that love is equivalent to sex or some bullshit like that, but it's a nice addition.

"It's all worth it in the end," you say. Well, aren't you a little stuck up bitch? I'll have you know that it is not always worth it in the end. I know my fair share of chicks that think "Oh! I love him! Sexy times!" and end up pregnant.

With a baby.

I hate babies.

Which means I should be glad I'm a dude, right?

Wrong.

Because, apparently, some genius decided that they could figure out a way to make guys have behbehs (behbehs mean babies, in case you don't know your ghetto slang).

Hence my dilemma.

Perhaps I should elaborate?

Well, eighteen months ago, I met one of the best guys ever. One of those guys that come and sweep you right off your feet with suave looks and a sexy voice.

I'll tell you, I'm a sucker for sexy voices.

Anyway, we got talking at someplace or another (my sister's graduation: he had a brother that would be going to the same school) and then we were friends.

And then we were having sex in the back of his car.

What.

I swear to God, I almost killed that bastard.

Except I was sorta kinda in love with him at that point, so it would have been kinda stupid.

Well, this bastard - that I had happened to fall helplessly and irrevocably in love with - was the whizkid that figured out a way to "fertilize" guys.

Yeah.

And he'd taken a special pill that very day.

Double yeah.

Saying I was pissed would be an understatement.

I tried to bite his dick off.

But, it was a glorious dick, and I just couldn't find it in me to punish it for its owner's asshole-ery.

Still, I was pissed, so I stormed off and decided to never ever speak to him again.

That lasted a whole two hours.

Him and that goddamn voice...

He actually tried explaining the whole thing to me once. He said something about stem cells that had womb cells or something close to them had been injected in my ass and that his sperm had activated the egg and now I was pregnant.

Honestly, I really didn't care about the Goddamn logistics of how I got pregnant. I just wanted a shitload of ribs.

I'm pretty sure I said that to his face.

Now, I'm not gay. I don't have a single homosexual gene in my body. But I live in a po-dunk mountain town called South Park, a few miles north of nowhere plus a lot of Mexicans.

In this town, anything can happen.

Like turning the straightest guy out there queer (or at least bisexual for one guy) and getting him knocked up.

Fuck my life.

But don't get it pregnant.

Let's skip all the shit in between then and now. It's all full of fights and sobbing, and me dying after I shit out that baby. And here we are, my life as of late.

Most of the people around me don't care that I'm a dude that had sex with a dude and now has a baby. Either that, or they've seen it before.

Wouldn't surprise me.

Her name's Kit. Kit Broflovski.

I was not pleased she got her father's name.

But I had been dead at the time, so I didn't have a choice in the manner.

Me and Kyle have been getting along pretty well. We've got a pretty nice house, courtesy of his job as something or another. Pretty soon, we'll be getting out of this hick town and we'll go somewhere cool.

I'm thinking England.

He says Israel.

Freaking Jew.

Well, that's about it in my life.

This is Kenny McKormick, signing off.

Stay horny, folks.

AN: Absolutely a one-shot. Probably. Not.