SOUTH PARK IS A SHOW BY TREY PARKER & MATT STONE
"I like how you are with me / In our future history / And maybe someday down the road / I'll sit back and say to myself / Yeah, I thought so"
"Okay, students, let's take our seats. Before we start our lesson there's something I have to tell you. You may have noticed, but we have a new..."
"Timmy!"
"Yes, Timmy, I was introducing you. As I was saying, we have a new student here with us, coming from N-"
"Timmy!"
"Can't you wait a moment, Timmy? Well, yeah, everybody say hi to Timmy, he's going to be your new classmate, and I want all of you to be kind to-"
"Timmy!"
"...him. Timmy, I hope you behave better in class or we're going to have a problem. So, come on, class, say hi to Timmy."
"Hi, Timmy!" the whole class greeted the new one, as they were supposed to do.
"You can stay there, by Red's side."
"Timmy!" the other replied, shaking in his wheelchair.
Clyde leant forward, making sounds to get Token's attention.
"What's wrong with the new kid?" he muttered.
"Yeah, they didn't even bring him a desk."
"No, dude, I mean, look at him."
Token observed the boy, shaking in his chair as if he had ants in his sweater.
"I know, he's kind of...weird." Token had to admit.
"Shut up, he will see you are staring at him like if he was some kind of freak." Wendy told the two boys.
"He won't notice. Look at him. I don't think he even knows where he is." Clyde replied.
"I thought there were places made specifically for people like him." Craig joined the conversation.
Cartman was also looking at the new kid in a not very friendly way.
"Like we needed a retard." he muttered. "We already have a Jew, a black guy and a poor-"
"Mmhmp uhh, Chhman" Kenny complained.
"This is like a refuge for minorities, I swear to God. What's gonna be next? An Arab?" Cartman continued his grumbling.
Kenny sighed. For fuck's sake...
He looked at the new kid at the other side of the class. He didn't know what to think of him. He kind of didn't seem like if he had no idea of what was going on. He was fidgeting a lot, muttering...Yeah, he hated to admit it but Cartman was right about something: it was hard enough to focus on class to have someone like that interrupting the lesson. He wasn't even sure they could actually talk to him, like he would understand.
Since Jimmy moved to South Park nobody barely paid attention to Timmy anymore. No one noticed; it was even assumed that the two of them would become friends instantly—but Kenny suspected the truth. Being the silent one had made him pay more attention to details and sharpened his hearing. He was mostly sure that Timmy didn't like Jimmy at all. The others thought that the matter was just that Timmy didn't know how to express himself. Bullshit. If one paid attention, they would have seen that Timmy wished he could control his legs to kick Jimmy's balls. And the guy was always invited to their plans, Timmy had to see him everywhere.
That was why Kenny decided to spend some time with him. The guys were talking and had put him aside. He'd better start a conversation or find a way to distract him before he got sad. Or angry.
The thing was, however, that it was extremely hard to have a conversation with him. It was like decyphering an ancient language. All Timmy could say was his own name, and he said with with different intonations depending on the purpose of his message or his mood but that was not enough most of the time.
Silence fell upon them while the others laughed at one of Jimmy's jokes. Kenny had tried, nobody could say he hadn't. Looking at his own feet, sighing, he decided that at least he could make some noise so that Timmy didn't hear how much people enjoyed Jimmy's conversation and jokes. And so, he decided to sing quietly. A song he had heard in the commercials that morning, whose tune he had in his head and wouldn't leave. Timmy turned his head to him.
"...Timmy."
"Hm?"
"Timmy."
Kenny didn't quite understand that. Did it have something to do with his singing?
"Timmy." the handicapped insisted.
"Uh..."
Kenny saw the movement of his hands and thought he had finally understood: he wanted him to go on. In that case, he continued. A little louder this time. He observed from the corner of his eye that Timmy didn't stop looking at him.
"Dude, what do you think you are? Pavarotti?" Cartman passed by them, heading to the public restroom, and couldn't keep his shit to himself, apparently.
The song was almost finished but Kenny ended it right there and looked at his feet. Maybe he got too enthusiastic, right? That was...pretty gay. Yep.
However, he found a smile on Timmy's face when he raised his head.
"Timmy."
Kenny got that. Timmy thought that was very good.
"...Thnks." Kenny smiled under his parka, even if Timmy couldn't see it.
"Timmy..."
Mysterion couldn't believe any word the other said. He couldn't be alright. He had a few cuts in his face, one of them hadn't stop bleeding yet. Wonder Tweek invoked the power of the hydrogen peroxide to disinfect them while Mysterion watched, his arms crossed and a expression of upset in his face. He was still so angry that he would have punched a wall. Who the fuck threw rocks in a superhero game? And at the one boy who had the least mobility! That was disgusting. That was immoral. Fucking animals, that's what they were!
Wonder Tweek left the soaked cotton on the ground and inspected the wounds with a worried look—oh, well, that was his usual look, so perhaps it wasn't that bad.
"I-I think I should go home and get a few strips."
"Okay, we'll be here."
Wonder Tweek left hurrily and Mysterion took a step towards Doctor Timothy.
"You okay, Doc?"
"Timmy."
"...I'm sorry I couldn't do anything..."
"Timmy."
"Yeah, I threw a few punches but you still got hurt."
"Timmy."
The handicapped placed his hand on Mysterion's arm. After a moment of silence, he grabbed both Timmy's hands and looked at him to the eyes.
"I promise you one thing, Timothy: this is not happening ever again. Ever, you heard me?"
Timmy smiled as much as the tiredness allowed him to.
"Timmy..."
Mysterion's severe expression softened a bit.
"So...yeah, are you coming, Timmy? To say goodbye to Kenny?"
Timmy thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Timmy. Tim Timmy."
Jimmy raised his eyebrows, then looked away.
"...Oh..."
"Uhm, what did he say?" Stan asked Jimmy in low voice, not to offend Timmy—he just...didn't understand a word he said.
Jimmy paused before answering. "He says he's going to s-see him tomorrow at his house to give him s-s-something..."
The other three boys looked at Timmy, not knowing what to say. Not even knowing how to look at him.
"...Jimmy...Are you sure Timmy knows that Kenny died this morning?" Kyle muttered to Jimmy.
"Y-Ye-Yeah, I told him myself."
"But are you completely sure that he...?"
"I'm telling you: I explained it to him ca-ca-ca-carefully. He is 100% aware that Kenny is d-dead."
Well, seeing him, the boys were not completely sure about it. That was not the face of a boy who knows that one of his friends has died in a horrible accident. It was more like the face of someone who is getting ready to sit in front of the television and watch his favorite show. Completely unaffected. Happy, even.
"Well, we can't wait for his brain to process it. We have to get going, guys." Cartman said, checking his watch.
"Yeah, well, we'll...tell Kenny you said hi...See you tomorrow." Kyle said before walking away.
"Goodbye, Timmy."
"Bye, Tim-Tim."
"Timmy!" Timmy waved his hand and closed the door.
"...I'm kind of glad the funeral isn't open casket..."
"That poor bastard..."
"And poor Timmy...He's going to have a very hard time when he finally realizes..."
He wouldn't have to wait much.
Soon after closing the door, Timmy's smile vanished. He turned on the television but barely laughed at Terrance and Phillip throwing farts at each other. Horrible thoughts were flying over his head, and he couldn't shoo them away, no matter what he said to himself. Having dinner, during his shower and in bed, trying to sleep, they haunted him. Making him want to run to the funeral, open the coffin and see Kenny. Stay in his house, beside his bed, and wait. Cry.
When morning finally came, he didn't even have breakfast. As fast as the motor of his wheelchair allowed him, he crossed the town to arrive to its most depressive part: the McCormicks' house.
Feeling his heart race, he rang. No one answered. He rang again. Still nothing. Timmy was starting to feel very nervous now. Which one of those windows was of Kenny's bedroom? He had to see him. He had to be sure that he...
The door finally opened. Timmy held his breath.
It was Kenny. Since his parents were passed out on the floor, he had to leave his breakfast aside and open the door himself.
"Hm, Hmmy. Hi." he greeted Timmy.
A lump in his throat prevented Timmy from say hi. He decided to go straight to the point and give Kenny that book he promised to lend him the other day. He could have it as long as he needed. He trusted him—not like others he knew. Oh, and an apple pie his dad had cooked the previous day. His parents wanted him to know that he would always be welcome to eat at his house.
Kenny turned around for a second, then, when he was sure that there was no one watching, he took the magazine out of his jacket.
"Hmm!"
Timmy raised an eyebrow, leaning forward, then wrinkled his nose, letting out a protest. That was gross!
"Thht's nhh gwss!" Kenny frowned. "Thhy ah bwthfwh."
Timmy asked Kenny to hold the magazine closer to him, so that he could see it well. Well, yes, Kenny was right: the woman was very beautiful indeed. And he had to admit that he couldn't help his eyes fixing on her nude breasts and the bush between her legs.
"Hmmh hh mhmhh hmm hmmpth..." Kenny chuckled.
Timmy couldn't say the same. He had no idea of what he would do with those, but he still felt terribly attracted. It was weird, wasn't it?
"Timmy." Timmy had to admit. And he did it just because Kenny was his friend.
Kenny blinked perplexed.
Timmy hadn't given his first kiss yet? But...everyone he knew had done it years ago!
"..."
"Ts hkay, ddh." Kenny calmed Timmy down. He didn't want to make him feel bad about it, like the other kids would have done if they knew it.
"Timmy?" Timmy asked him.
What did it feel to kiss a girl? Phew! Good question! How could he even describe it? It was like...flying...He didn't know. He guessed Timmy would find out when time came.
"Timmy...Timmy."
"Ddh, yh nt gay. Hmm hpphm hhmph hmmp."
"...Timmy?"
"Hm?"
Timmy showed him what he meant. He grabbed his hood to expose his blond hair but, most importantly, his face, placed his hands on his bare, warm cheeks and kissed his lips. Kenny shook a little, muffling an exclamation, but he didn't resist. When Timmy moved away, he saw him smile.
"...Timmy!" the handicapped concluded.
Kenny chuckled. That was...definitely gay. And he needed lots of practice. But he would keep the secret. Timmy was a good guy, he sure didn't mean to do anything bad.
He hoped his lips were a good start.
That was the jacket he usually wore; he hadn't chosen anything special for that night. Dennis' joints were still inside of the pocket. Well, he would take one as a commission. After a first long drag he turned his head towards Timmy and smirked. He knew he didn't like that stuff at all. He cared a lot about health and stuff. Huh. As if a cigarette was the worst thing that could happen to him. But he was careful not to smoke in his face.
"...I heard you're going to college..."
Timmy smiled. Kenny could have sworn it was a distant, forced smile.
"I knew you could do it, man. Where did you get accepted?"
"Princeton."
"Not bad."
"Nuh-uh."
"...It's...pretty far from here."
"..."
"So...I guess this is a goodbye..."
"...Timmy."
"Yeah. Right. More of a 'see you later'. Darn, most of you guys are leaving. Don't tell me I'm going to be left alone..."
"Timmy?"
"Me? Pfft! I don't know. Whatever I can, I guess. Not that I have many choices."
"Timmy. Timmy."
"Are you kidding? No, I'm not that good."
"Timmy?"
"What happens in Romania stays in Romania. Nah, really. I don't see that happening."
"...Timmy!"
"Hm? Oh, no, come on, you already-"
"Timmy." he insisted, poking a finger in his own chest.
Kenny chuckled softly. Well, yes, having into account that thanks to Handicar he had founded the camp for decades, he could influence the director to hire him. Him, or anyone he wanted. The odd thing was that he hadn't been in charge of the whole thing. He had the brains to do it, Kenny was sure of that.
"Well, all right. We might as well try. Thanks."
"Timmy." Timmy smiled and opened another can of alcohol-free beer. It was evident that he had no intention of joining the party inside. Neither did Kenny. Being with Timmy, the silent Timmy, was a cure after stressful, noisy days. At least he was helping him find a job which didn't require breaking his spine, not like the others, who looked down at him, were used by their parents as a bad example or mocked him for not even finishing high school.
Kenny grabbed another beer. With alcohol, of course. That thing Timmy drank could be healthier but it tasted like piss to him. They were surrounded by quite a few cans, now that he noticed.
"Timmy."
"Hm?"
"Timmy."
"Ah! So you finally...?" Timmy's grin made him laugh. "No way! When? Why didn't you tell me, dude? I didn't think you'd..."
"Timmy Tim Timmy." Timmy explained. Oh, yeah, Chef's rule. Not before, nor after: seventeen. Kenny had forgotten about it.
"So, how was it?"
Timmy shrugged.
"Timmy."
"But you could...?"
"Timmy!"
"Hahaha! Sorry, I just didn't know about the logistics. And...who was her?"
"Timmy."
"Ah. I don't think I know her."
"Timmy Tim."
"That's good, man. Find yourself a good girl. You deserve it."
"Timmy."
"I don't know. All the gals I've ever found were fucking crazy."
"Timmy Timmy Tim."
"Thanks. You know, Tim? You," Kenny pointed at him with his middle finger, from the hand which was holding the can, "should be my husband. You can't change a lightbulb or cook for shit but at least you have parking permit."
"Timmy! Tim Timmy!" the other joked.
"Oh! You fucker!" Kenny got rid of the can and the joint and pounced on him, jockingly trying to push him out of his wheelchair, while Timmy screamed.
They had a good laugh, they really did.
They needed it. Something to push away the thought that they were going to miss each other so, so much.
His back hurts after so much time inclined over his desk, writing. It is time for a little rest.
Timmy leaves the paper aside and grabs the phone, which he keeps inside of a drawer when he is studying to avoid distractions. He has a lot of notifications to read.
His parents are mostly sure that this Thanksgiving Uncle Jordan will be joining them. Francis is telling him proudly that she was able to talk on the phone at work and not freaking out—sweating, stuttering a bit, but she has improved a lot. And Craig sent him a few photos of a party the gang had recently.
He spends a lot of time watching those photos, smiling. He hasn't been back to South Park for a long time...well, since he left. His parents are the ones who come to visit, to save him trouble. He is surprised about how much people has changed in so little years. He would have said Token was with a different girl last time he saw him. Clyde...what did he do to his hair? It looks sweet! As for...wait, that was Scott Malkinson? Wow!
Next photo. Yes, that is Cartman—still a fatass— and that, he supposed it is Kyle, because of the hair...That has to be Stan and...
No way. The guy next to him couldn't be Butters. He had Butters added as a contact and he looked nothing like that guy. That guy was quite fit, nothing like Butters, who was slim and very androgynous. And, unless Butters would have gone through some kind of ugly phase, he would have never had those tattoos done in his whole body or had that haircut.
Is that...?
Timmy feels his heart beating so fast. He wanted to mutter something, but no word could describe the surprise. His mouth remained slightly open for a moment; then, a smile formed.
Well, well. Puberty was awfully kind to someone. No more hiding under a parka, huh?
He is so happy for Kenny. Seeing him so confident, so—why not admitting it: handsome. He has heard about him but he hasn't actually seen him in a long time. Although Kenny hasn't been much in touch with him either, Timmy has heard through other people that Kenny had actually worked at Lake Tardicaca for six months, and that he did a great job that earned him the managers' trust, but one day he left it all to pursue what many thought was a screw-up. Perhaps it was, but Timmy can't help feeling glad to know that he had listened to him after all: he is sharing his gift. And it seems he is not doing too bad.
He looks at his phone again, biting his under lip. The fingers of his free hand tap on the table.
What the heck.
He dials and waits still biting his lip, and now his nails too. Yeah, Kenny would laugh if he saw him like this. He has never been that intimidating. He can't remember the last time he texted him and hopes it wasn't too long ago. Well, what does it matter if it was? More reason for him to call.
"Timmy! Hey! Sorry it took me so long to answer, man! This table's a mess!"
Timmy smiled as if he has the boy in front of him. He is glad to see that nothing has changed. That the feeling he sed to get when Kenny was near is still there.
THE END