By animeninjaNIPPON
OK, this story was inspired by an odd series of events: as I entered a relationship triangle much like the one that is to come, I realized how much my little town and friends are like South Park in almost every way, shape, and form...(guess who ends up as Kenny?) And when I had a dream about how the details of this fic should be played out, I just knew what I had to do, despite my other six or so fanfics that still need updating (and I will update and finish, I promise!). The title of this story was taken from the song "Walk Away, Renée," which has more to do with my own life but still relates to this story.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own South Park or any of its characters. If this story is a little OOC or clichéd-to-Hell, then that's because I'm neither Matt Stone nor Trey Parker and therefore cannot write a perfect South Park story. But enjoy this anyway.
As soon as I got of the bus, I immediately felt a chill run down my spine - like I'd just been cursed.
I don't know why I came back to this shitty little town, really. I mean, of course I know - but what the Hell was I thinking? Once I turned sixteen, I walked out the door of my little crap-shack and left South Park for good - until now.
I got off the bus bearing only a thrift-store duffel bag full of belongings, which sure as Hell was more than I departed with when I fled South Park. Now, two years later, I was no better off than I was back then - I was still poor as shit, feeling sick from something or other all the time, and alone. But that last one was about to change...or so I hoped. And that was the ONLY reason I came back to South Park.
"Fuckin' stupid HIPPIE!" I heard a familiar voice screech. I looked to my left in time to see Eric Cartman giving the finger to some passer-by who'd apparently bumped into him.
"Eric?" I wasn't expecting him to be at the bus stop, but then I figured it made sense, since I didn't know where he lived anymore.
So, what was I smoking when I made this arrangement?
It started last Monday. I'd just got off work from my most recent dead-end job, and I had a few quarters in my pocket. When I passed by a beat-up old payphone, something possessed me to make a call...
"Hello," replied a sweetly effeminate voice after I dialed the number of the only person I was interested in talking to.
"Yeah," I answered back, "Is Eric Cartman there?"
"Just a minute." I heard her call for him, and in a few minutes he growled into the receiver. "What?"
"I-It's me," I responded nervously. "Kenny."
"Kenny?" he repeated, bewildered.
"Yeah...Kenny McKormick."
"Where the Hell are you?"
"At a payphone."
"I know that, dumbass - I mean, where do you live?"
I filled him in on where I was and the vague details of what I'd been doing, and he told me a few of the things that had happened back in South Park - aliens had abducted Butters, the high school's North Park rivals had torched the gym, and Kyle was going out with Bebe.
"Bebe..." I tried to bring her back to memory. "Oh yeah - she had nice tits..." I gave a laugh in mock humor. "You with anyone?"
"I don't need a girlfriend," he snapped. "I got better shit to do."
"Boyfriend?" I asked in a smart-ass tone. He responded by telling me to go fuck myself and calling me a fag.
"Only by half," I retorted. Eric knew that I swung both ways, he just didn't care as long as I didn't bring it up. But what he did next is what really shocked me.
"Everybody around here is bi these days - Stan, you, that fat bitch who teaches art - "
"Did you say Stan?"
"Yeah, or so those goths say. Wouldn't surprise me if that Jew was, too..." He was clearly referring to Kyle, but I was thinking about Stan. Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind and a smile crossed my lips.
"He single?"
"Wha? Are you fucking SERIOUS?" I was about to say "no," but then Eric continued, "'Cuz I can hook you guys up."
I almost choked on my own spit. That didn't sound like something Eric Cartman would say, unless he had some ulterior motive. But I wasn't really thinking about it at the time, so I just said, "Sure, OK" into the receiver like it was no big deal.
"Uh, yeah..." There was a pause. "So...when?"
"I dunno..." I kicked at some glass shards on the ground as I pondered a date. "Friday?"
"This Friday?"
"Yeah."
"OK then."
"Thanks." That was the first time I remember being genuinely grateful for something.
"Uh-huh."
After that conversation ended, the week went by rather quickly, and then the next thing I knew, I was back in South Park. And from the looks of it, not much had changed - the buildings were still the same, the streets were still dirty, the -
"...Kenny!"
As soon as I realized that my name had been called, I saw headlights coming my way. I froze in terror and jumped too late. The speeding automobile slammed into my ribcage and shook my whole body. I felt and heard everything snap painfully. Yes, I'm back in South Park, I thought, staring at the rivulets of red on the asphalt before everything faded to black.
End of part one
Updates on this will probably be sporatic, since I've got a lot on my plate, and also because I'm kinda writing this as I experience it. But I pretty much know where this is going, with or without life's little helper...