The year was 2006. South Park high had been on the moon for ten years, and it's occupants had felt the toll.
They were all dead, except Kenny.
For ten years, ten damned years he had wandered this blasted mineral deposit, feasting off the remains of his peers and photosynthesizing for sustenance, not a bone left unlicked or dark matter molecule left unsuckled.
He sighed as he gazed upon the empty void entrenching him. So vast; and the earth below him so infinitesimal, so weak, so tragically redundant against the gaping call of the void.
Sometimes…he could remember. He remembered the days of lolligagging in the oxygenated atmosphere, playing video games with his friends, (all gone now. Dust in the zero-gravity. Just like his dreams.) the endless hours recounting tales of debauchery, ah yes, how he could remember those bittersweet morsels of youth…
But alas.
He sighed again and floated melancholic to the grand crater, where he could behold his shrine.
An offering not to any divine symbol but only to himself, he had constructed a sigil of the shattered remains of his peers, accented with the locker doors of each individual, still pristine, for rust, decay, fear, had no place in the void.
Kenny, therefore, felt very out of place.
Despondently, He beheld his shrine, ruminating at his handiwork, the perfectly geometrically sound cross-sections of skulls and pelvises, clavicles and ulnas, blood and tears, that created the holy pentagram of lost youth.
But Kenny did not much care for this lavish display of sorrow, for there was only one bone he truly treasured, one he treasured so deeply he kept it in a secret crevice away from the prying eyes of the void.
He floated to the next crater, where there was, among the transplanted school, a single rock covering a hole in the ground.
He lifted the rock and let it reverberate in the zero gravity before it gently placed itself once more on the cold, gun-metal dust of the ground.
He gazed at it lovingly.
There it was…The treasure.
He smiled, and a single droplet floated away from his tear duct as he lifted the skull and pressed it tenderly against his cheek.
"Oh sweet, sweet cartman. How I long for your flesh against mine…."
He brought it towards his lips and slowly licked across the surface of the cranium, feeling every bump, crack, gristle of forgotten sinew.
He thought sentimentally of his lost childhood once more, his wasted adolescence, all the moments he could've spent with Cartman, bare-chested and wild-eyed in impassioned frenzy across the sheets of his bed…
He unzipped his jeans and gently stroked his giant, bulging cock, waxing over the feel of that magnificent cranium, so smooth, yet so deliciously sporadic in it's bouts of brazen texture…
He ran his thumb around the rim of the eye socket in preparation, then slid in his cock, gasping in ecstasy at the pressure at which the bone squeezed his massive girth, in and out, in and out, again and again, with every thrust Kenny ascended further into nirvana, further away from the doom of the void, further into Cartman's mammoth embrace, his sweet, succulent lips, his bellowing rolls of flesh, his velvety voice like the wind chimes of nectar and honey, ambrosia to Kenny's shriveled soul…until finally, he released his load into the bowl of the cranium.
…
He looked upon the withered face of his unrequited lover.
Then, he came back, his fantasies of adrenalized love just seconds ago alive and flowing through his veins, were SUDDENLY just that, fantasies; and he was once more alone.
On the moon.