South Park Box Set
By: Marisa
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to South Park. Or anything else copyrighted. But I do own this idea.
Note: Hello everyone. This is my first South Park fanfic. Now, probably none of you will know who I am, so I will let you know that I have a little problem. I'm really lazy, so if updates are amazingly slow.. Well let's hope they're not.
On another note, and please read this, the reason I called this story Box Set, is because, it's one story, but each chapter is from a different kid's perspective. So it's like a different episode, in a boxed set.
When I read stories, and they go between perspectives, it's sometimes a little confusing. So I decided to chop it up into chapters.
The kids I'll mostly be using are Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny and Butters. I'll be starting with Kyle, simply because.. He's the best.
Now on with the story.
Chapter One: Kyle
I don't even know what's real anymore.
My eyes zoomed through the book laid upon my lap, its pages beaming up at me. Each sentence seemed to bare such meaning, its words each sinking into my soul. It was like each phrase held such significance to my life, their meanings a key to my heart.
The book seemed to give me eyes I never had. It gave me sight that I wasn't born with. An ability to see the truth. But what is the truth? The truth about reality? But is reality all made up?
All made up. Not real. Nothing's real.
Reality. The root word being real. Real, the opposite of imaginary. The truth. True, a fact. But what makes reality real? Does real exist?
What if I'm not real?
There's no proof that I am. What if I am just an image presented to other's minds? Or what if I am the one imagining them, and I created a body to present myself in within my mind. But what makes my mind, or thoughts real? What makes reality real? Is my mind not considered reality? So is nothing real? Is this anyone's reality?
I mean, what if I'm just part of my parents' reality? What if this is all just somebody's dream?
My parents? What about God? Many people believe in a type of God. Viewing God as some superior being must mean he(or she) must know these answers? Is this God's dream I exist in? If it is, what dream is God present in? What happens if (s)he is to wake? Will I be erased from this succession of images?
There could be infinite alternate realities to every reality.
"Kyle," my friend Stan's voice pierced through my thoughts, my concentration instantly breaking. "You really need to stop reading those books."
"Why, are you getting tired of being stuck with the lame computer character?" Cartman asked, triggering a laugh from Kenny.
"No!" Stan barked. "I just prefer to have Kyle as my partner."
"Why? Everyone knows Jews can't play video games." The large boy paused, a smile taking his face. When no response came to his insult, he quickly bolted up and slapped my book out of my hands.
"What the hell was that for, fatass!" I snapped, quickly reaching down for my book.
"Stan's right." He said angrily. "These books are turning you into a humourless waste of space, you stupid Jewish buttpipe. Stan's no fun to kick the crap out of on this awesome game. I'll only be satisfied when I can kick some Jewish ass." He said, motioning towards the Okama Gamesphere.
"What the hell are you talking about!" I snapped, picking my book up and hugging it tightly to my chest. "I beat you every time! And you know what, I don't need to take any more shit from you about my religion." With pleasure, I gladly stole Cartman's line. "Screw you guys, I'm going home."
"Ey! You can't say that!" He snapped back, flailing his arms about like a little child having a tantrum. "I won't allow my copyrighted line to be used by a Jew."
"It's not copyrighted, you fat fuck!" I growled, before whirling around to make my way to the door.
"That's right, run home. No one wants you here anyway. Go off to your, 'other reality.'" With that, I shot him an angered look and immediately exited from his house. I don't know why I put up with him. I really hate that guy.
Negative and positive are the same thing.
As I flipped my book back open to accompany me on short walk home, my eyes fell over this. Negative and positive, the same thing? That can't be true. My hate for Cartman couldn't be positive as well. Unless it meant it's a good thing I hate him. Or perhaps it refers it batteries. But I've tried putting batteries backwards, it doesn't work.
Real and not real are one.
Real.. And not real are one? Then reality and imaginary are one? But, I guess it's real if you have an imaginary friend, because you're doing it in reality, but the friend itself does not exist. But the action, and thought are real. They're part of your conscious self. But what about when you dream, and day dreams, reality is not present there. I'm not following anymore.
The walk home was cold, the wind whipping across my face. I was eager to reach home, but also trying desperately to read my ever-so-interesting book. It was hard to manage, as walking and reading at the same time had always been a hard task for me.
As I approached my house, I could hear several voices from beyond the sturdy walls of the structure. One was a very distinct voice I could recognize anywhere.
"Butters?" I questioned quietly, as I turned open the front door. Almost instantly knowing the majority of the people were situated in my living room, I turned towards it. And my instincts didn't fail me. There sat my mother, Butters, and Butters' mother Linda.
Almost as a reflex, they all snapped their heads back to see me enter without my own introduction. "Oh bubbie," my mom called out to me. "the Stotchs are here."
"I see that, mom." I replied apathetically, watching Butters watch me. I expected my mother to yell at me for my poor manners, but when no insults came, I relaxed.
"You see, Kyle, Butters' mom and dad are going away for the weekend and I offered to let Butters stay here. It'll be great, you can hang out with your little friend!" Oh great.
"He's not my friend." I stated boldly. Of course, I was ignored completely, which is usually the case with adults in South Park.
"He'll be staying in your room for the weekend, so.." She said, raising up from the sofa, along with Ms. Stotch, "You can go take your little jammies and other sleep things up to Kyle's room." She looked over to the blonde, and smiled happily at him. This caused me to leave my mouth hanging. My mother hated everything, it was rare when smiled at anything. No kidding unreal and real were one, since what I witnessed was real, and yet it was hard to believe. Of course I'm just being a jackass though.
"Now, you kids run upstairs, Linda and I are going to have a cup of coffee for a minute." At that command, Butters immediately hopped off the couch.
"Oh, uh, this is gonna be real fun, eh Kyle?" The blonde smiled at me, a bag clutched tightly in his right hand.
"No, it won't be fun." I rolled my eyes and made my way to the staircase. I loved how my mother always consulted me on who was coming over.
"Oh, we can play Snakes and Ladders, and watch The Fox and the Hound. Oh Kyle, it's uh, such a sad, sad movie.." The boy wheezed, as he dragged his bag up the stairs. He must have been considerably weak to have been dragging a plastic bag.
"I don't want to play Snakes and Ladders, and we are not watching Fox and the Hound." I replied irritably.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting on my neatly made bed, playing Snakes and Ladders with Butters, as we watched The Fox in the Hound on my old TV which sat on my dresser.
"Oh, uh, Kyle I think this is gonna be your uh, fourth time losing if I recall correctly."
"Well you know what? I don't really care. This game is stupid, and I refuse to play anymore."
"Is the movie making you touchy? Because don't uh, w-worry, it makes me really sad too. It's hard to uh, continue with a game when you see the little fox being hunted around like that." The boy said, twiddling his fingers together.
"No, the movie is not making me touchy, wait, I'm not being touchy. I just hate this game, and I hate this movie!" I gritted my teeth together, and without thinking, quickly knocked the pieces off the board.
"Oh…" Butters sighed, observing the blank Snakes and Ladders board. "Well uh, don't worry. If you find the pieces, I remember I was on 87 and your piece was on 21."
"No, Butters." I said, my anger raising. "I don't want to play this stupid game!"
"Is uh, something wrong?" Butters questioned, his eyes quickly meeting mine.
"Nothing is wrong." I confirmed, folding my arms over my chest. "You may as well go to sleep. I don't know what else we can do."
"Oh, well uh, okay. What are you gonna do, Kyle?" What was with this kid? Constantly asking questions. But then again, he's always ordered around. I guess he'd want to know what he's doing, so naturally he'd ask lots of questions.
"I'm going to read." I stated, raising up and walking towards the TV. I quickly flicked it off, the last images of a male and female fox vanishing. I retrieved my book from beside the TV, and sat quietly on a comfy arm-chair situated beside my bed.
"What book is that?" The blonde asked, reaching into his plastic bag for his pyjamas.
"It's a book about life, and reality. You wouldn't get it." I reassured him, flipping open the book to where I last left off.
"Do you uh, think you could read me a bit of it when I come back with m-my jammies on?" I sighed. Why was life doing this to me. Was this the torture I had to go through to reach the answer to my existence?
"Fine."
"Ooh goodie!" He exclaimed, hopping up and rushing to the bathroom down the hall. I thanked at least he wasn't going to get changed in my room. I didn't know if Butters was gay or not. And bringing that subject up in my mind made me feel a little uncomfortable just sharing a bed with the guy.
I don't exist unless I think I do. But what if I don't?
Existence. To have life. But life is just a word created by humans. What really is life, what keeps our soul tied to our bodies? Do I have a soul? What is a soul? An entity separate from the body? But do we have proof they exist? Do we have proof what we lead is a life? Maybe I think we are just something's imagination. I don't know. I don't know what to think. But my mind never rests. I wonder if the other guys have this problem?
All the stuff I've been reading; I really don't think I exist.
Butters arrived back in my room rather quickly, I assumed he more rushed to get here, to hear me read, how exciting. Well actually, this book is exciting. I feel I will find my identity and the meaning of life through these words.
…
What am I thinking, I don't even know what to believe anymore!
"So Kyle!" He exclaimed, laying himself upon my bed. "Are you still gonna read? 'Cuz you know, my mom, she uh, she s-sometimes r-reads to me before I went to bed, but she said 'only when you're good Butters, you only g-get bed time stories when you're good!'" He paused. "Have I been good, Kyle?"
"Yea, sure Butters. Whatever." I scanned the page I was on for a good place to start. "Why are you so interested in this book, anyway?" I asked inquisitively.
"Oh, well uh, I sometimes kinda wonder about life myself." I eyed the book intently, though my ears remained open for select words. "I wonder why God would have me be born now, and here, why? I mean, there are so many better places. I mean, I l-love my family, regardless if my mom t-tried to kill me, and if my dad beats me regularly, I'm sure people would die for thee uh, love I get!"
"Butters," I interrupted, feeling obligated to now talk. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh nothing." He sighed.
The rest of the night I read to him. Surprisingly, Butters listened well. I would of thought he'd interrupt a lot or something, but he didn't. And he wasn't asleep. But by the time Butters had fallen asleep, and I'd nestled into my bed in hopes to do the same, my mind had loose thoughts swirling around, begging for answers. The thinking wouldn't stop.
What if thinking about it is the only thing keeping my space-time together?
The space-time continuum. A 'reality' that exists within a four-dimensional continuum. My thoughts could power my reality. Without a brain, I'd be dead. Of course in medical terms, it's probably something like, every organ needs each other to keep going. But what if I had no thoughts? I'd never think to eat. Sleep. I would die. And if I don't think of answers, I will just continuing thinking. But when I find answers, I must find new questions or I will have nothing to think about! … Wait.
Urgh. This knowledge is killing me. But is it really knowledge, or just questions and accusations I create?
After a while, I must have drifted off to sleep, because before I knew it, I found myself waking to Butters' singing.
"A loo loo loo…"
"Butters," I moaned, rolling over to view my digital clock. 9:38 AM. "Why the hell are you awake so early!"
"Oh, uh, this is a little late for me. I'm an early-riser, at least, that's what my dad says." Any feelings I'd felt of friendship yesterday night were now completely erased.
Sometimes I think I can see time slowing down, and my own existence fading.
"H-hey, Kyle." The boy said, sitting himself at the end of my bed, though his eyes were on a wall. "Your book really spoke to me. Those words were uh, in my dreams." This didn't surprise me. This book had found its way in my heart too. Maybe if Stan or Kenny would listen to this, they'd understand as well. I wouldn't even bother with Cartman. But Stan was like me in a way. Except I often viewed it as I was more in touch with my thoughts, while he was more in touch with his emotions. But something like the wonders of life might appeal to him. But alas, I have yet to get him interested in these books. "It really makes me, uh, you know, question my existence. A lot of times, people just.. ignore me. I wonder if my existence is always there, you know?"
"Butters, you're always there. Just sometimes people ignore people because, they don't like you." I said bluntly.
"Yeah but, it wouldn't be hard for me to disappear… And if I forget I'm real, maybe I can di-disappear." Hearing this from someone other than myself showed me how stupid this sentence sounded.
"You can't just forget you're real. You're real no matter what. Thinking you aren't won't do anything. If this is a dream and you could pull yourself from it, it would be a little different. But ignoring yourself, well.."
"I've never really had a friend. Maybe no one can reach for my heart because it's not there."
…
"Butters, what are you talking about?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But it's like, s-sometimes everything feels so surreal." This was giving me a headache. I mean, it's was 9:40 in the morning for Christ's sake!
"Butters, please do yourself a favour and go to sleep. You're losing it." I inhaled a deep, breath of air, it felt good to let my lungs expand.
"No one wants you here anyway. Go off to your 'other reality.'"
Butters is losing it? That snapped me right out of a peaceful sleep. How must I sound to my friends? Crazy? But… until a moment ago, I really believed all this.
Belief..
Does this make me crazy?
Just a little start to my story. It'll get really good from here on.. Hopefully. If you didn't like this, or found it boring, you probably aren't reading this. But I'll go on. I just wanted to experiment with Kyle because to me, he's always the one getting lost in his thoughts of reality, and often tends to over think things. Also he's my favourite South Park character. Anyway, I hope someone will look forward to the next chapter. Please review! It wouldn't kill ya.
