Again I am in one of those damn serious moods that's keeping me from completing Mr. E ch7! But METhOD it will rear its ugly head again, I promise.
Eh...whatever...I wanted to write CK and I couldn't think of any normal way to go about it. So I wrote something completely fucky. Partially inspired by Zakuyoe, who, though temporarily estranged from my readership (and I from his,) is still oh-so-very awsm.
It's a really bizarre fic. I personally see a lot of meaning in this, but that's just because it's exactly what I'm going through right now (sans the Cartman-figure and murder) so maybe it won't mean a thing to you.
Mostly I think it may be too abstract. ;P I don't want to ruin the subtlety of certain parts with effective explanation, though...so either you get it, or you don't. Reviews appreciated and adored, as always.
Disclaimed.
Push Bang Click
In which Kyle's mother finally breaks him, and 'I told you so' would be the greatest relief of all. A very strange KyleCartman.
"Your mom really is a bitch. If I don't end up killing her, someone else will."
The red-haired boy frowns, clutching his plastic controller tightly in his hands. (Fucking fatass. You still don't know anything.)
"Shut up, fatass..." Push push push. The screen flashes violently and the brunet smirks. "And your mom? If I don't end up doing her – who cares, cuz everyone else is already."
"Fucking Jew. Stop attacking me, we're on the same team."
(Is he retarded? We've never been on the same team. I hate him too much – we're too different to be on the same team. Fat fucking asshole, he knows it's always been me and Stan. Why am I on his team, again?)
"Then stop getting in my way."
"Mnngh mmmgh mm mmgh!"
"He's right, dudes, you need to shut up."
(But he started it. Blame him.)
The four boys push faster and harder. Click click. Bang.
(Hell, how'd he get so good? Watch out, Stan - )
"Fucking Jew, STOP SHOOTING ME. WE'RE ON THE SAME TEAM."
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Dammit guys, both of you shut up!"
"Mmmghm." The blondish boy chuckles behind his hood. "Mm mmgh mmgn."
(Oh hell – why'd you go there?)
"Aggh!" Click push. Pause... "Kenny, keep it to yourself!"
"Mental image, mental image." The black-haired boy groans. "Thanks a fucking lot, Ken."
"Mm-mm-mm," the blondish boy laughs again.
(Why hasn't Cartman said anything? Isn't he going to call me a fag?)
"Fffeh," the brunet snorts. "Kenny, don't be such a fag. I wouldn't Jewscrew even if he paid me - !"
(Jewscrew?!!)
"Mmmnngh, nmmh."
(What an asshole!)
"Shut up, asshole!"
"LANGUAGE!!! Language! I do not want to hear any more this talk, boys, or no mo video games!"
(Thanks a lot, Cartman.)
The red-haired woman stomps out of the room just as fast.
The brunet snickers. "She's askin for it, Kyle. She's askin' for it. Someday, someone's gonna kill her. You know -!" Click click. He grins. " – Maybe it'll be you! Oh, that'd be fucking hilarious!"
"Fuck you, fatass."
"Like I said - " (Don't go there. He's going to go there.) " – I don't swing that way."
"Mnnngh?" Blue eyes watch the brunet mischievously. "Mmmmt mm?"
(Kenny quit being an asshole. 'Jew' is not a sexual orientation.)
"Both." The brunet grimaces.
"You're a fucking asshole! Stan, switch over, okay? I'm not teaming with fatass for another second."
The dark-haired boy shrugs. "That's cool."
Click click push.
--
"I'm sorry – okay? I'm sorry!"
(Please don't hate me! I don't want you to hate me)
"Sorry?! You're sorry?! Kyle, I am sick and tired of your sorries! What is sorry going to do for you?! From now on, keep them to yourself! This is – so – unbelievable – you're – unbelievable - !"
"Mom, I'll do better next time! Okay, please! Don't yell – quit yelling!"
"Colleges don't want to see this, Kyle! What university in their right mind would want a student who is capable of this sort of – failure?! A 'C,' Kyle?! A 'C?!' Do you know how many hard-working, intelligent kids are applying - !"
(Not listening not listening not listening notlistening notlisteningnotlisteningnotlisteningnostinenglistnostenlingnolsien)
" – to these colleges? Do you think any of them have ever – ever – EVER – pulled this kind of crap?! What the hell were you thinking, Kyle?! What the hell – are – you thinking?!"
(Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP, I GET IT!!)
"It's – unbelievable! Just – I'm going to – you have no idea what you've just done, do you?! You have no fricking idea how much you've messed up your future – all we want - "
Push push push.
(Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...)
" – is for you to be happy! We care about you and we worry about your future, Kyle – Kyle! And all you ever do is give me that stupid look - !"
(...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...)
" – all you do – you never answer – you selfish – bastard – you don't care about anyone but yourself - !"
(...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...aaa...aa...a...)
" – you stupid idiot! You stupid, stupid - !"
Push push push.
"Don't touch me – AHH! You animal!"
(Animal!!! I'm the animal?!!)
The red-haired boy grabs her arm again. "Quit it! I've heard enough!"
(I shouldn't be doing this - )
"Let go of me – !" He twists the skin around her wrist again instead. "LET GO – AHH! AHH!" She shrieks and sobs. "GERALD!!! HELP ME! GERALD!!"
(Fuck it all! Fuck it all! You can hate me if you want – just shut the fuck up. I'm done with this.)
He shoves her at the wall, letting go of her arm.
(How am I supposed to be happy like this? Who decided that this was the right way to raise me? How can you – that's right – that's right! Get out of my room! Get out! Now!!!)
She glares at him and leaves the room. The red-haired boy can see her as she stomps down the stairs, in tears.
Bang bang bang.
--
The red-haired boy knocks on the door.
Bang bang bang.
(Why did I come here? There's gotta be a reason.)
The door opens from the inside. Click.
"Hello...oh, how nice to see you, Kyle."
(I don't think I can stand it anymore - )
"Yeah..."
( - but all she wants is for me to happy. So I shouldn't be this mad at her.)
"Poopykins...! You have a friend at the door!"
(It's not right for me to feel this mad. Is it? She just wants me to do what'll make me happy. But – I'm mad. I'm so - mad)
The brunet comes downstairs, feet landing heavily on each step.
Bang bang bang.
(I wonder what he'll say.)
"Kyle...? Okay, Mom. You can go now."
(I wonder if he'll do something to me.)
"You boys have a nice time. I'm going out."
(I wonder if he knows how to make me happy...)
The door shuts behind the brown-haired woman. Bang.
(If I have a reason to be mad – then I'll be as mad as I want.)
"What the hell do you want, Jew?"
The red-haired boy smirks.
"Nothing, just wondering how your fat ass is doing."
Push push push.
"What the fuck did you come here for, Kyle?"
(Why not Stan?)
The red-haired boy punches the brunet.
"What the hell?!"
"Bet your stupid fat ass can't - !" The red-haired boy braces himself and makes a movement. "Bet you can't – !"
"Like hell I can't!" The brunet bends and drags the smaller boy by the collar, tossing him further inside the room. "Like hell, Jew! You're asking for it."
The red-haired boy lands his head on the hardwood floor and winces.
(Fatass, he'll – hurt me – just don't make me talk about it – if I'm hurt for no good reason – I can be as angry as I want. I need to – justify - )
"Aaaaah! Agh!"
"Uh. Uh. Uh! Ow!!!"
(More mistreatment – punishment – he doesn't care like Stan and Kenny do, thank god he won't make me talk about my goddamn 'problems')
"Ugh! Get off me...get off me..." The red-haired boy squirms under the other's weight. He looks up and sees something that scares him in the brunet's eyes.
"Get off, fatass..."
"Are you going to scream...?"
(That's – not what I was expecting)
"...Fuck, yeah, I'm going to scream! What the hell are you doing? Don't touch me – Stop!"
(No, go ahead. Then I can be angrier.)
"What's this, Kyle?" The brunet chuckles, breath warm against the smaller boy's skin. "You're a lot happier than you're admitting..."
(Feels so good.)
"Don't."
"You don't want me to?"
"What the fuck do you think, fatass? Of course I don't want you to!"
The brunet sighs.
"Then I will."
"Nn!"
(Feels ...good.)
"Cartman..."
The brunet's movements are awkward and ungentle.
"Cartman - !"
Both boys pause, and then the brunet moves.
"Cart - "
(Fuck – that HURTS)
" – man! NO!"
(Hurtsssssssss- )
Push push push.
"Ahh!! Cartman – stop!"
The brunet chuckles.
"Not – nnh – not bad, Jew...not – ngh – not bad..."
(Ohhhhh, my god -)
Push push push.
--
"I CAN'T DEAL WITH YOU ANYMORE, KYLE!!! Look at you! I love you, but – I don't like you at all! What – look at yourself! Just – just look at yourself! Look at the freak you've made yourself into - !"
(I know. I know. But I'm not listening...so please shut up)
"Kyle Broflovksi – is my son – not you! I want my son back – give him back to me!!"
(I AM ME!!!!!!!!!)
"Oh, oh, oh." The red-haired woman holds back sobs. "Oh, oh, oh – what happened – you used to be my perfect son - ..."
(Who cares - )
"You used to be so sweet, and – what happened to you, Kyle? What happened to you?!"
The red-haired boy shrugs indifferently, staring at the wall.
"Look at you! Look at you!" She wails.
(No...I already know I won't like me - )
"You're selfish – and a freak, now, and you don't give a shit about our feelings!!!"
(Funny...I think maybe Cartman was right - )
"You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself, Kyle! What happened – "
( - she's a bitch. But I can't hate her, she's just trying to make me happy - )
" – to – "
( - even though she hasn't. Hit me! Why won't you hit me! Justify me! Hit me so I can hit you back without – being the bad guy)
" – you?!?!"
"I'm sorry!" he says. "But - !"
"I don't want to fucking hear it, Kyle. I can't deal with you anymore – you're going off to a correctional – a military camp – something! Anything!"
(What)
"I just – can't bear it anymore! All we've done is help you and give you everything you want – and how do you repay us? That's it – we've decided, we're not going to be responsible for your...your fucking up your life, Kyle! We're not!"
(And I am? I AM RESPONSIBLE?!?)
"We won't – I don't get it, Kyle – but we're not keeping you here anymore. We just can't do it."
(It's not my fault!!! BLAME CARTMAN!!! BLAME HIM!!!)
"That's such bullshit!" He says.
(Don't hate me. I don't want you to hate me – I love you! Momdad I love you -)
"No! The bullshit is what you're pulling, Kyle – these shitty, shitty grades, the suspensions from school – all the lying, and stealing our money – the drugs! And now we find out from some stranger – on the street – about the sex! With a fucking boy, Kyle?! How freaky can you get?! We never raised you to be this way! Do you get off on being yelled at, Kyle?! Do you get off on this? Ohh – just – get out of my face! It's painful just to look at you!"
Push push push.
(Fuck justice)
"AHHH LET GO OF ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT! GERALD, GERALD, HELP ME!"
The red-haired boy pushes her face into the wall again. "Shut up! I don't want to hear it anymore!"
(I can't listen anymore – I can't be mad – can't - )
"Stop it! KYLE! STOP IT!! YOU FUCKING ANIMAL! YOU - !" She sobs.
(I don't want to hurt you anymore – why did I turn out like this?)
(I shouldn't have ended up this way – )
(This is okay, though – )
"Oh, why, god, why did my son turn into this – this monster!"
( - she deserves it! She deserves it!)
Push push push.
(Mom – I want you to love me – )
The red-haired boy steps back and reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket.
"Kyle – you're disgusting – you disgust me – you're just not human anymore - "
Click.
The woman turns. "Oh my -"
( – but I want freedom more!!)
Bang.
--
('Bang'...? 'Bang'...? 'Bang'...?)
"What the fuck are you doing?"
(I'm free. I'm free. I'll never hear her voice again. Never – have to hear it again)
"Uh...hello...what the fuck are you doing in my backyard?"
"Cartman – don't you fucking get it? Dude – I'm – I'm free."
The brunet sighs and pokes his shoe at the snowy dirt. Or dirty snow, depending on how he looks at it.
"I still have no fucking clue what you're talking about, Jew."
The red-haired boy looks up at him. He gives him a shaky smile; pauses unsurely.
"Cartman...I'm not Jewish."
The brunet looks at him. "Huh...what?"
"I said – I said I'm not Jewish, douchebag."
"Yeah you are..." (He's going to stereotype me...fatass. Not that fat anymore – but still fat - watch – he's going to stereotype me.) "...I mean...no offense Kyle, but...check out your nose."
The brunet chuckles at his own words, and the red-haired boy mutters, still kneeling in the snow.
"Fucking fatass."
"Yeah, yeah. Fucking Jew. Faggot, Jewish, hippie - " (Hippie?) " – and now you're in denial, too..."
The brunet mocks him, clicking his tongue.
"It's – it's snowing," the red-haired boy answers.
"What the fuck?"
"It's snowing..."
(Everywhere is red. I don't think – I don't think it's anger, though – not anymore – this red – is a little bit darker)
"That's very nice, Kyle." The brunet folds his arms.
"Dammit, fatass...aren't I free yet?"
"Stupid Jew – Is this about the money again? I already told you – I didn't take your goddamn twenty." (Yes you did) "It was Kenny." (Oh wait...that's probably true)
"It's not about that." The red-haired boy stares at the snow.
(I'm just seeing spots, aren't I? Or are they – really – there?)
"Then what? I'm starting to get bored with you, Kyle."
(Spots – it's a lot of spots. Like a splatter of)
"I – eeggh – ugghh - "
"...Ohhh...sick! Why'd you have to do that in my yard? You asshole Jew!"
"Help...I need..."
(I need some aspirin)
"Ahh, sick sick! No way! I'm not going near you!"
The red-haired boy shakes and falls onto his back in the snow, eyes shut.
"...Kyle what the fuck are you doing."
(I'm not doing so good.)
(Not doing so - )
The red-haired boy mutters again.
( - well. 'Well;' not 'good.' English teacher – he'd mark me down for saying 'good' - )
The red-haired boy gives a silent laugh when the brunet kicks his head. Snow settles on his face.
( - mark me down. My grades...they'd fall...she'd yell... )
"Dammit, get up and get out of my yard!"
(It doesn't matter though you never have to hear her voice again she won't yell at you anymore so go ahead - )
"Kyle, get your ass the fuck – out – of – my – "
( - go ahead – there are no more rules. I'm free – I don't need to Dammit will you stop kicking me! It hurts!)
" – yard!!"
The red-haired boy stands up, with a grimace.
"I'm not coming back here anymore...Eric." He wipes his mouth free of vomit. "I have no reason to see you anymore – find someone else to screw, if you have to."
The brunet turns his head to look at the sky.
"Oh - the fuck?" He taps his foot in the snow. "You mean there's actually been a reason?"
(There has been a reason – you're looking at her right now, fatass)
"I won't miss you," the red-haired boy says. "I won't think about you."
"Good to know..."
The red-haired boy frowns. "I don't need you anymore."
"Okay, then, Kyle..." The brunet shrugs and wears a slight smile. "Dream of me even once and I have permission to kick your puny Jewish ass."
(This isn't a joke, you asshole!!!!!!)
"I'm fucking serious, Cartman. I'm leaving this shithole town. I'm never coming back! You can tell Stan and Kenny - "
"Why the fuck would I want to tell them?"
" – that I'm out for good."
"Ten bucks and I'll consider letting them know."
Push push push.
The red-haired boy throws his hands out in the air and turns.
"...I said I'm never coming back and I mean it! Hope you fuckin' burn in hell, you fucking fat useless fuck!"
(That's right, I never needed you...I don't need anything!!! Free means free.)
As the red-haired boy walks away, the brunet laughs and kicks up some snow to hide the vomit in his yard.
"But didn't he just say he never wants – to see me again!" He says to himself, smiling. "What's he thinks he's gonna do – never die? Fuckin Jew has no idea what he's trying to do..."
He finishes hiding the unsightly spot under snow, and he goes back to his house. He opens the back door – click – and slams it shut – bang – and returns to the couch and television, picking up the remote – click click click.
--
Bang.
"Eric? Poopykins? Eric, what was that noise?"
"Dunno."
"Well – could you – could you go look? I'm afraid it's Louis again - !"
The brunet rolls his eyes at his whore-of-a-mother's paranoia and goes outside to find his backyard's fence has been knocked open.
He walks over to the yard, folding his arms to shield from the cold wind.
"So what's 'never' mean to a Jew, anyway?" He asks, casual. "Two days, if I'm not mistaken."
(Shut up. Shut up! Please!)
"Tuh...this is real – real pitiful, Kyle. Real pathetic. But I guess I shoulda expected this."
The red-haired boy, kneeling in the snow, closes his eyes, looking unsettled. He is kneeling with his back to the brunet, just as he did two days earlier.
"Shut the fuck up..."
"Would you also like me to suck your balls, Kyle?"
"Go fuck yourself!!"
"Ooookay?"
"I said GO FUCK YOURSELF!"
The brunet scoffs and kicks the kneeling boy in the ass.
"No way, Jew. Why don't you explain your gay behavior – and by that I mean impossibly more faggy than usual – "
(Christ he never lets up – why did I come back here again?)
" – and I know inside that scrawny Jewish skull lie tales of endless passion and faggotry – so indulge me?"
(What the fuck is he talking about?)
"What the fuck, fatass? Just – what – the fuck?"
"I don't know...Kyle. How about you explain what the fuck's with this annoying little cloud constantly raining Jews on my nice, clean backyard?"
(I'm still free – I just ended up here – on accident)
The brunet sings. "It's raining – cats and Jews! Cats and – Jews!"
Push push push.
(I was free – wasn't I? Or – aren't I? I'm free – I never have to hear her voice – again)
"...Kyle, seriously. What the fuck do you want? I thought you said you're done screwing around. If you're not here to fuck, I can't see what it is you want from me."
(Now I don't have to listen to her, but I have to see her ...her...this stuff. The red – spotted – splattered - ! It's not - )
The red-haired boy grunts,
( - fucking - )
curls his fingers into the mud,
( - FAIR!)
and looks up at the brunet.
"Cartman, have you heard anything about my family...since I was last ...here?"
The brunet frowns, thinking about what this could mean.
"Nope...should I have?"
The red-haired boy shakes his head side-to-side.
(Even after what I did, Dad's protecting me. Fucking hell – I can't escape that goddamn – love.)
The brunet frowns harder. "Kyle, tell me what the fuck is going on."
The red-haired boy stands up shakily. "I'm leaving."
"Tell me WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. You're acting gayer than usual!"
(Even after all that - )
(What the fuck?)
(Why does dad still love me?)
(Why – what about – what about Ike?)
(STOP LOVING ME I need a reason to hate you!!!!)
"Kyle."
Push push push.
(Should I tell the fatass? Why should I tell him?!)
"Kyle...?"
(He doesn't deserve it – OH GOD the redredreedrreedrred! Please red make red it red stop red)
('Bang'... 'Bang' ... 'Bang')
(Oh – fuck. Did I – did I really do that? Am I seriously the one who - )
"Kyle, fucking talk, dude! You're being a faggot, and I mean that in the most offensive way possible - !"
(Should I tell him?)
(Tell someone! Better tell someone!)
"Kyle."
Push push push.
(I really shouldn't have done that to her - )
Push push push.
(I really really don't know why I did that - )
Push push push.
(Dammit fatass just – give me a second - )
Push
(What makes you think he's not going to tell someone?)
Push
(Hell, he'd probably love seeing you thrown in jail – dropping the fucking soap - getting fucked over)
Push
(Tell someone! Tell someone! Quick! Save yourself!)
(No...he's just going to tell more people! Why would he keep it a secret? He doesn't love you – doesn't even need you – he just wants to laugh at you!)
Push
(And he'll laugh so hard – he said it himself – he said it'd be fucking hilarious)
"Kyle, say something or get the fuck out of my yard."
Push.
The red-haired boy looks up and stares at the fence, feeling the tall, broad figure standing behind him.
(Hilarious – hilarious? That's right – he wanted her gone anyway – maybe he'll understand – yeah – he won't care!)
Click.
"What the – Holy shit? Kyle, what the fuck is so funny?"
The red-haired boy stops laughing just as fast and looks down at the snow. He tries for a peaceful smile, but he can only manage a crooked one. Then again, maybe crooked is all anyone should feel in this world, if death can be that hilarious, and he realizes that this fact makes him strangely – elated.
(You're not a bad person, Kyle Broflovski. I am not a bad person. If the whole world is this crooked – then I'm not bad...I just fit in. Because now, the 'whole world' has become - )
"Hey..." He says. "Do you...remember when you told me someone's gonna kill my mom someday...?"
"Sounds like something I'd say."
"You also – said it'd be funny if – if – I – was the one who ended up doing it – you thought it would be hilarious...remember?"
The brunet frowns, trying to understand.
"Eh, guess it would be pretty fucking funny..."
( - only me, and Eric-fucking-Cartman. We're on the same team now, fatass.)
The red-haired boy turns his head just enough to spot the figure behind him, needing to be certain this is really him and not an impersonator. He watches him, anticipating – hoping with all his heart to see humor on the brunet's face when the red-haired boy speaks again.
"Can you keep a secret?"
The brunet inhales sharply.
Click.
--