The Party Killer
Kyle ditched his studying time to go to Stan's party. Little did he know that the so-called 'best party ever' would send his whole life plunging into a dark whirlpool of lies, sorrow, and betrayal that he could never hope to evade...
A/N: Okay, I'm going to attempt an awesome story. I would really appreciate any feedback, negative or positive, because it really helps me to improve my writing abilities. Also, by the way, this whole story is kind of shitty...I know. I wrote it at like three in the morning, so please forgive any careless errors...please?
Enjoy.
Kyle took a seat next to his raven-haired Super Best Friend, who was also the Super Jock of the twelfth grade.
"Hey, dude." Kyle greeted, sending a nod in his direction.
Instead of the usual "'Sup, Kyle?", there was complete silence.
Kyle frowned. The only time Stan ignored him was when he was bragging about a recent party or he was planning one.
"Dude, you gotta come to my party this weekend!"
"Oh, no thanks, dude. I've got homework to do."
"Aw, come on, dude! Parties only happen like once a month!"
Normally, that would be true. However, at South Park High, there was always a party every Friday night.
"Ugh...fine. When?"
"Friday night, duh! You should come early...I've got something to show you."
There were a couple sporadic gasps throughout the room.
Stan spun around to face the awe-struck few.
"Not like that, Jesus Christ, you people are sick!"
The gasps soon turned to tainted giggles and laughs.
Kyle rolled his eyes.
"Excuse me, may I have your attention please?"
Kyle looked up. There, standing in front of the room, was their new teacher, Mr. Mackey.
Despite his fairly polite attempt to silence the class, loud waves of chatter still filled the room.
"EVERYBODY SHUT UP, M'KAY!"
Silence instantly descended upon the room.
"Now, let me introduce myself, m'kay. I'm your new teacher, Mr. Mackey."
Craig's hand shot up.
"Yes, little boy?"
"Are you, like, gay or something?"
"M-M-M'kay, let's move on. Now can anyone tell me the circumference of Barbara Streisand's nose?"
Kyle's hand was the first one in the air.
"Yes, right here in the front."
"Approximately 16.3456920 inches."
"Very good, young man!"
"Nerd!" Cartman blurted out.
Mr. Mackey flashed him a look of disapproval.
"Uh, young man, that is not appropriate behavior, M'kay?"
"Uh, well you can suck my balls, M'kay?" He retorted.
"Do you want an office referral?"
"Do you want to suck my fat hairy balls?"
"That does it! Now you get your fat little buns down to the office, M'kay!"
Cartman simply rolled his eyes, completely unaffected by Mr. Mackey's harsh tone of voice.
"Well, fine! I don't need you, M'kay! I've got my sweet little ducky, Mr. Squiggers!"
Mr. Mackey reached into his back pocket and pulled out a yellow rubber ducky.
He shot Cartman a death glare as he held the toy against his chest.
"There, there, Mr. Squiggers, you're safe, M'kay..."
"Dude, Mr. Squiggers? Seriously, what the fuck?"
"DON'T YOU INSULT MY DUCK, M'KAY! I GOT HIM FROM MY UNCLE, AND HE'S GOT BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN EAT YOUR BULLSHIT!"
"Yeah, like he'd rather float around in a tub with you and your smelly uncle."
"DAMMIT, STOP IT, M'KAY! I DON'T NEED THIS!"
"You liar. How the hell else are you going to afford that hobo living in your basement?"
At this point, the entire class was erupting with laughter, causing Mr. Mackey to curse loudly and and storm out of the room in a fit of boiling anger.
"Good going, fat-ass, now we don't have a teacher!"
"SO? This is totally sweet! Now we can do whatever the hell we want!"
"Yeah, dude, relax, it's not that bad." Stan chimed in.
"Not that bad? D-do you guys know how serious this is? What if the principal finds out? We could all be in deep trouble!"
"God, you're such a fucking Jew, Kyle. Live a little, will ya?"
Kyle sighed. Would his friends ever see life the way he did?
The bell blared loudly overhead, signaling the end of another long chapter of Kyle Broflovski's school days.
Friday would be here before he knew it, and, unfortunately, so would Stan's party.
By the time Friday night arrived, he was already planning to ditch the party to study for his History Test.
But, as all best friends should, he decided that one history test wouldn't matter if it meant you got to spend time with your Super Best Friend.
"Come on, Kyle, have a drink." Kenny insisted, holding an ice cold beer up to Kyle's pointy nose.
Kyle shoved it back into the warm, dry hands, of the drunken teenager,
stating for the fiftieth time that he didn't drink alcohol and that he wasn't going to give in to this rowdy ass get-together.
"All right, man, but you don't know what you're missing."
"Yes, I do, Kenny. I'm missing out on liver damage, brain damage, and addiction.
Gee, doesn't sound so fun now, does it, Ken?"
Kenny shrugged. "Whatever, dude."
Kyle watched indifferently as Kenny chugged the whole glass down in three gulps.
"That's two hundred and thirty brain cells you just killed."
"Well, that's two hundred and thirty brain cells that can go fuck themselves with a big rubber cock, now get your ass out here and have a drink!" Kenny shot back.
"Are you kidding? No way! I'd rather share a drink with a sick person! It's statistically safer than drinking!"
"Suit yourself, dude. But, seriously, you don't know what you're missing. This shit makes you feel like you could take on the world."
"Amen." A drunken Stan added, shortly before collapsing onto the grass.
"Promise me you'll at least try a beer, Kyle."
"No, Kenny!"
Kyle fought his way through the swarms of sweaty, drunken bodies. As he neared the end of the growing croud, he bumped into the very man he was dreading: Eric Cartman.
"Hey, Kahl."
Cartman was completely oblivious to Kyle's rigid annoyance.
"What the hell do you want, fat-ass?"
"Well, now that you mention it, there is something I want...Come with me."
Kyle reluctantly followed Cartman to a deserted corner of Stan's yard.
"Cartman, what the hell is this all about?"
The brunette wore a devious smirk with a bold intensity that threatened to unravel the very fabric of Kyle's composure.
"Well, Kahl...You do remember little Ike, don't you?"
Kyle's fragile green eyes widened at the mention of his brother's name.
"W-what do you know about him?"
"Well...you do want him to live...don't you, Kahl?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Kahl...I have here three thousand dollars. That's enough to buy your brother a new liver."
"W-where did you get that kind of money?"
"Oh, it's none of your business, Kahl."
"Cartman...I need that money."
"Well, Ike isn't going to last very long without a new liver, Kahl, and you know it..."
"Y-you bastard...What the hell do you want from me?"
"Well, Kahl...I have a little problem...and I need you to take care of it for me."
Kyle carried a look of absolute disgust.
"What?"
"...I need you to kill Stan."
"WHAT? NO WAY!"
Cartman's fierce brown slits dug into Kyle's delicate jade ones.
"Do you want Ike to live or not?" He asked nonchalantly.
A plethora of wet, sorrowful tears attacked Kyle's supple pink cheeks.
"Fine...I'll do it."
"That's more like it." Cartman whispered into his ear, flicking out his slick pink tongue to catch Kyle's falling teardrops.
"I HATE YOU!" Kyle cried out, his voice slightly muffled by the pond of teardrops scattered across his face.
"That's nice, Kahl...But would you murder such an innocent little boy just to save your fake-ass 'best friend'..."
Kyle couldn't even force himself to look up at Cartman. The painful blackmail that had been bestowed upon him was just too overwhelming.
"You're fucking evil, Cartman." He muttered under his breath.
"I know."
A wasted Kenny made his way towards the two teenagers, stumbling over several inconspicuous objects as he hobbled.
"Hey, dudes..."
Cartman shifted his gaze towards the drunken adolescent.
"What do you want, Kinney?"
"Well...I came t-to say that we should all just, like, get together and fuck, you know, experiment."
Cartman chuckled at the idea. "You're such a fag, Kinney."
"H-hey now! J-just 'cause I might want a threesome doesn't make me a f-fag."
"Yes, it does, Kinney. Plus, I don't think I'd want to experiment with the likes of you."
Kenny was silent for a moment, but despite his drunkenness, he was able to comprehend the acrimony behind Cartman's insult.
"You're an asshole, Cartman." He stated blatantly.
Kyle rolled his eyes at the nearly pedestrian comment. "Of course he is."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Kahl, did you not want the three thousand dollars?"
"N-no, I do."
"Well, then I suggest you shut the fuck up, Jew!"
Kyle cringed at Cartman's ferocious aggressiveness. No matter what the situation, Cartman always seemed to have the upper hand. He currently reigned supreme over the entire school. In fact, there wasn't one twelfth grader who hadn't been manipulated into doing something for Cartman. Now, it was Kyle's turn to be used, only to be tossed aside at the end of the day, like a rotten piece of garbage...
Despite his usual trustworthiness, Kyle still wasn't entirely sure if he would be able to hold up his end of the bargain or not. It may not have seemed like a big deal to Cartman, but to Kyle, taking a life to save one was just wrong on so many levels. Still, he saw no way out of the agreement. Killing Stan would definitely go against his mental ethics, but letting Ike die would undoubtedly leave his parents in a state of maritally cataclysmic devastation.
Both choices meant the thorough obliteration of his self-respect and peace of mind. He had tolerated years of vicious bullying just to build up the strength to get by every day. Yet, now, here he was, forced to make a decision that would leave him mentally traumatized for the rest of his life.
I have to do it, He thought to himself, I can't let Ike down...
A/N: Well, that's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed. Also, I apologize on behalf of this chapter's short length. I promise the next one will be longer and less horrible. Remember, feedback is wanted, even if it's a little harsh...