A Fallen Hero

By I-am-E.L.F

Chapter 1

It started out as a normal Saturday morning. Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and I were thinking off a way to waste that morning. Cartman wanted to see that dead body near Stark's Pond, but the rest of us wanted to light cow shit on fire. Cartman, of course, thought it was stupid, so he left by himself on his four-wheeler.

I had this nasty cough for the past days and I felt weird.

"Are you okay, Kenny?" asked Kyle.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

So, we spent half an hour at the nearest cow farm, lighting their droppings on fire. I coughed again, only harder.

"Dude, you don't sound too good," said Stan.

"I'm fine," I said. "Really."

Then, the lame-wad Butters comes to us and says "Oh, hey guys."

"What, Butters?" asked Stan.

"Eric says you gotta come to his house," said Butters. "It's real important."

"We're busy," said Stan.

"What happened?" asked Kyle. "Did he lose a hundred pounds?" We all started laughing.

"H-he knew ya'd say that, so he told me to tell you, 'Up your ass, Jew."

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So, the three of us went to Cartman's house, and he was all jumpy.

"OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS!" he screamed. "You're not gonna believe what's in my backyard."

"What?" asked Stan.

"Guess!" shouted Cartman.

" A boat?" asked Kyle.

"Better."

"A trampoline?" asked Stan.

"Better."

"A fucking machine?" I asked.

"Better," said Cartman. "Thirty-two aborted fetuses."

We all started at Cartman, then got in an argument.

"C'mon, you guys," said Kyle. "Let's go." The three of us left, but I coughed harder than before.

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Later that night, back at home, my family and I were sitting down, eating another batch of packets of jelly and three frozen waffles. I was feeling kinda weak. I barely ate.

"Is something wrong, Kenny?" my Mom asked.

"Kenny's sad! Kenny's sad!" said my "special" brother Kevin.

"No, it's-it's not that," I said. I was feeling a little short of breath. "I…I…don't feel too—" I gasped for air, then fell on the ground, fainting.

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When I woke up, I felt weaker, but I was in a strange room that I recognized. I was in a hospital room, hooked onto an oxygen machine, an IV, and had some of my stuff with me. I still felt kinda woozy, and I couldn't really see what was going on.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Kenny," my Mom said, with a tear coming down her cheek. "You fainted while eating dinner last night, and we took you here."

"It turns out you have…a muscle disease," said my Dad, not drunk for once. "And it's terminal. It's called Myopathies."

"What?" I asked.

"We need to see some more doctors," said my Mom. "So, be good while we're gone."

About a half hour later...

"There we go," said the doctor, changing my IV. "How you doing?"

"Better, thanks," I said weakly.

"Are you sure you don't want to take off your jacket?" he asked. "It's very warm in here."

"No, that's okay," I said.

"Kenny," said my nurse at the door. "You have some visitors."

"What a lucky little man!" said my doctor. Stan, Kyle, and Cartman came in, and Cartman was holding a gift.

"Hi Kenny," said Kyle. "How are you?"

"I feel better," I said.

"We got you something," said Cartman. "It's a Gobo fighter."

"Dude, don't tell him what it is," said Kyle, laughing a little.

"Sorry," said Cartman. That was the only time I heard him say "sorry" to anyone—especially Kyle.

"Do you have anything to say, Stan?" asked Kyle. Stan just stood there, looking at the floor.

"I—" he started until he left the room.

"Where's he going?" I asked.

Kyle went after Stan to find out. It turns out he was too afraid to see me die. So was I.

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Two weeks later, I was weaker, sicker, and on my death bed. Everyone that was there knew what was going to happen.

"Where's Stan?" I asked Kyle. I hadn't seen Stan since he left, but I knew he would come soon—he just had to.

"I don't know," said Kyle. "He said he'd be here."

I asked on my final breath. "Where is he?" Then, I could feel my throat tightening up, making it impossible to breath. I was gasping for air until everything started to fade away and then I knew…I was dead.

I was surrounded by darkness. I tried to feel around for anything, but I was alone.

"Kenny…" said a deep voice. I saw a tiny light in the distance. I started running over to the light. It was growing bigger and bigger until I was almost blinded. There, I saw a familiar face—St. Peter.

"Welcome back, Kenny," he said to me. "How have you been?"

"Sick and unhappy," I said. "My friend Stan didn't see me before I died."

"You can see him now," said the old angel. He showed me a puddle in the cloud that was filled with metallic water. It changed into a scene in my old church, with my coffin at the alter and Stan at the podium.

"I was one of Kenny's f-f-friends," he said. "But, I let him down because I was too afraid to see him die. I guess I was really afraid of death, not Kenny. I'm sorry, Kenny. I'm…I'm gonna miss you." He started to cry, and I felt I would do the same.

"Stan…" I said. "You're not my worst friend. Cartman is. I lied to him when I said I was his best friend."

"It's okay, Kenny," said St. Peter. "I think I'll look through your file." He took out a thick manila folder and glanced through it. I gulped.

"Well, Kenny. Since your last death, you ditched school for a day, kicked a cow in the bum, and swore countless times," said St. Peter.

"We all make mistakes once in a damn while," I argued.

"Yes, you humans do that," said Peter. He sighed, and then said "I'll let you in heaven if you don't screw anything up."

"YAY!" I cheered. "Thank you! Thank you!" White, fluffy wings grew out of my back and a halo wrapped around the top of my head. The golden gates of heaven opened and I flew in. I knew I was back home.

To Be Continued…