Life had never been much of an important thing to me. I don't think it would be for someone who dies every fucking day.

Some say it's a curse, that I should go to church more often to try to get rid of it, and some say it's a blessing and that I should appreciate it more.

Don't believe what they tell you. Take it from someone who's experienced it; it's a curse, but the day I'll start going to church regularly will be the day when hell freezes over, pigs fly, God turns out to be an evil satanic bastard, when world peace happens, and when Cartman loses 100 lbs and is tolerant and friendly to all races and religions. But even then I wouldn't do it anyway. I'd be too shocked to move.

There wasn't really much to look forward to in my life either.

Yeah there was my so called family, but shit, do you really think living with a drunken deadbeat father, a stupid, suck up brother, and a whiny bitch-ass mom is so fucking fantastic? I didn't think so. If you did, then by all means, you can have them.

There were my friends... I guess. Stan wasn't much of my friend. Sure, he came to all of my funerals, and he did that stupid "oh my god they killed Kenny" thing in an attempt to show that he cared, but he didn't. Not one bit. And then Cartman is pretty self-explanatory. That son-of-a-bitch is going to end up cold and alone when he grows up. Probably going to adopt a bunch of cats. And Butters? You're kidding me, right?

And there was Kyle. The one nice thing in my life.

I was always the bravest one.

The first one to lose his virginity? Me. First one to try drugs? You're lookin' at the boy who has the largest illegal drug collection in all of South Park. The first one to sacrifice his life in order to save the world from two million years of darkness? Take a motherfucking guess. In fact, I've sacrificed myself in order to restore power to a hospital that had been snowed in, saving the lives of everyone inside, I died to save the world from 2 million years of Satan's reign, I died to save the Jews, and I died so that I could command God's armies in Heaven and I saved the universe from evil.

But does poor old Kenny McCormick get appreciation? Gratitude? Millions of thanks from all of humanity?

No.

That's because Kenny McCormick is a lowlife, scrawny, poor, ugly, weird, friendless, perverted, dumb, heedless, redneck scum with the drunk father that beats him everyday. That's what everyone in this entire hick town says.

Except Kyle.

I hope you're wondering how I got my magical resurrection power. Too fucking bad if you aren't, you're gonna hear how either way.

I was 5 at the time. Just your average, naive Preschooler. Back then I was still normal ol' Kenny. I didn't die all the time, and I didn't rise from the dead all the time. Those were the good ol' days.

I had to wait a whole year before I could actually get into school. Yeah, I'm older than anyone else. Nobody could tell though, because nobody cared.

Heh, I remember my first day of Preschool as if it were yesterday. Miss Claridge was such a nice lady. Plus she was hot. If I had been as perverted as I were now, I would've had my way with her already. Nah, just kidding, but she was pretty hot. Anyway, that was the day I met Kyle, Stan, and Eric. And Butters, but who gives a crap. Eric was actually kind of nice back then. Sure he was fat, but he made up for it with his coolness. Stan was just plain old...Stan. Not much different from now. And Kyle was as sweet as ever. We were a big hit. I think people liked me back then. I hope they did. I was on top of the world that day. I couldn't wish for anything better. I'd never made any friends until then. Silly me.

Y'know that feeling when you make your first friends? That fuzzy, safe one you get in your heart. It's nothing like love, though. Not at all.

Well, I went home that night, ate my waffles, and headed right to bed.

That night I had a dream. One that I should have taken far more seriously. I know several people who deserved that dream more than me, namely Kyle, but I guess I was "The Chosen One" or something. I dunno.

I was visited by THE God. That's right, motherfuckers, the one and only lord and savior visited me in my dreams. And guess what?

He offered to grant my hearts' greatest desire.

Being the silly child I was, I was too giggly and dazzled to answer straight. I doubted it was real, so I gave a ridiculous answer.

But it was real. It was real, and I was going to make the biggest mistake in my entire life.

I told him I wanted to live forever. To be impervious to anything, living or non-living, that might want to hurt me.

And so it happened. I was invincible. I was... what I am now, I guess. Bullies like Trent Boyett could beat the living crap out of me, and I'd be as good as new. That's how I got him to respect me and my friends. I'm such an awesome friend.

I don't think I could've been happier.. I was unbreakable. I had people in my life I could call my friends. School was going great, I had the class bully on my side, and I was voted the most popular and cutest kid in Preschool. Life wasn't so bad after all. For once in my life...I was glad.

Sadly, that happiness didn't last long. I was at Eric's house, watching Terrance and Phillip with him and Stan. Kyle had caught the flu, so he was at home resting. The phone rang, and Stan went downstairs to answer it. He came back up, his eyes and cheeks saturated with tears.

"K-Kyle's going to...die."

Shocked and baffled, I ran out the room and out the door without saying a word. It wasn't until I got home that I burst into tears. Everything sucked. Life sucked. The common moral, "You don't know what you have until it's gone" was repeated over and over again in my head. but it was true. I didn't ever notice it until then.

I was nothing without Kyle.

Eric didn't care. He had already turned into a neo-Nazi by then. He laughed his head off, claiming that Kyle deserved it for being a Jew. I punched him in the face. Hard.

Stan sent flowers and cried in his room, because that bitch couldn't even put off his phobia for hospitals to see his "best friend." Everyone felt sorry for him. I didn't.

I wanted to die with him, but I couldn't. I couldn't waste my days moping like Stan. Kyle needed me right now. I visited him everyday. I sat next to his bed and read him stories and talked to him about things not involving Stan or Cartman. I didn't bring him flowers. I couldn't find (or afford) any flowers that were as beautiful as him. I didn't cry, and he appreciated it. That's when I started to fall for him, because I realized... it was only Kyle that ever gave a crap about me.

He was the one that lent me all money for my sick porn habits. He was the one that sat next to my smelly old bed in my smelly old room and fed me chicken noodle soup. He was the one that meant more to me than anything else in the world.

And so I prayed. I prayed for the first time in my life. Believe me, it was awkward apologizing to God for never ever talking to him or visiting his "temple". It was even more so when I sat there and begged, practically forced him to keep Kyle alive. To somehow transfer my inhumane powers to him. Hell, I even offered my own life in exchange for his, because I was only poor old Kenny McCormick. Kyle was more important than me. As long as he was well and alive.

Well, it happened. Kyle was alive. There was a one in a trillion chance that he would live, and he did. When the doctors were bedazzled by the results, I stood there, smiling a goofy ear-to-ear smile. It worked. Kyle was going to be okay, and I still had my invincibility shit.

I was a smart kid. I figured, if God could grant two of my wishes, he must be able to grant more. And he did. Immediately, I got free toys, candy, and other useless things. People would be confused, wondering how a kid as poor as me could manage to get all these things.

I was turning into a monster, and God was getting pretty pissed off.

So one night, whilst asking him for another Nintendo DSi, he snapped, and before I could say "Titty Sprinkles", guess the fuck what.

The sonovabitch cursed me.

He killed me. But I wasn't really dead, and yet I was. (I know. I don't even get it now.) Death would follow me where ever I went, but only I'd get hurt. Every time I died, however, he would resurrect me. Kind of like being invincible, 'cept more complicated. I stood there looking at him like a retard, and he left. I had no fucking clue what the fuck he meant, but I didn't think much of it. In fact, I thought it might have been fun.

Not even close.

I don't remember how I died the first time...I think I was crushed by some kind of animal or what, I dunno, but people were freaked the fuck out. "HOLY SHIT, IT KILLED KENNY!" Stan would say, horrified. I think he meant it that time. "Y-You bastards..." was Kyle's whimpered reply. Imagine the commotion when people found out KENNY, the invincible kid, died. I think everyone came to my funeral that day. Everyone cried, especially Kyle, and fuck, I was given enough flowers to last me until I was a thousand years old.

I came back that next day. In Kyle Broflovski's bedroom. In his bed. Next to him. (Dream come true, amirite?)

And that's how it started. The day after that, I was killed by a truck. Less people came. Then later, even less. Then finally, nobody. I wasn't even getting funerals anymore, (which I greatly appreciated. Un-burying yourself is a pain in the ass,) and I lost my fame. My popularity. My respect. I quickly became Kenny McCormick...

The failure.