What I would do just to see you again

Back when we were kids we always did crazy shit. We sent whales to the moon, we got rid of all the adults in our town, hell we even blew up Barbra Streisand! But, we did other lesser-know stuff too. Behind all the wacky things that happened to us, we were really just four normal kids, and we did normal stuff. I remember playing cards with Stan and Cartman when we were in scouts, I remember swimming in Starks Pond when it was warm enough in the summer, I even remember watching old stupid cartoons just the four of us together. We were just your average fourth graders, I remember doing lots of stuff, but right now, all I could think of was that one question everyone always brought up. We never stopped arguing about it, but that was kind of the normal thing to do.

I mean, everyone wonders who of their friends would be the first to die, right? That was the one thing we'd always argue about, but no matter what, every time we talked about it, they all agreed I'd be the first to go. And that was probably because… well, I already died all the time. Almost every other day or so, so that made me automatically first on the list.

1. Kenny

But, as soon as Kyle brought up the fact that I'd always come back, I could no longer be applied to our death list. That made the fat ass second because we all assumed heart attack would get him or something regarding his weight. So, Cartman was second on the list.

1. Kenny

2. Cartman

After that we'd always turn to Stan and Kyle who would be side by side, they were the tricky ones because we viewed them as a pair, and we couldn't really see one dying before the other because then they'd be separated. It just didn't really feel right to see the apart. Eventually though we decided redhead would be the next to go because he was diabetic. So that made Kyle third.

1. Kenny

2. Cartman

3. Kyle

Then the only one left was Stan, and we all agreed that was the way we'd go, he was always more athletic than the rest of us, and he wasn't falling from an open window twice every week. That meant Stan was last.

1. Kenny

2. Cartman

3. Kyle

4. Stan

And that's really how we pictured it. It's kind of funny though, how fate ends up, somehow fate decided for me to be spending my Saturday in a foldout squeaky chair watching Stan's Uncle Jimbo giving some gay little speech about moving on into heaven. And as I sat in my squeaky fold out chair remembering our gay little death list, I couldn't help but mentally flip off God. Because for once—just for once—it wasn't my own funereal I was attending.

I mean, you'd be pissed off too; one of your best friend dies way before his time, and you couldn't even predict his death correctly. I sat there thinking about how wrong we had been making that list, and how wrong it had been to make it. Maybe one of the times I died I should have brought it with me and made sure to ask god if we had made any mistakes. It didn't matter any more. It's said and done, set in stone, dead and gone.

Of all the times we made that same list over and over again, each name with the exact same number; we had no idea. We had no fucking idea how wrong we were. We had no idea what god had in store for us.

1. Kenny

2. Cartman

3. Kyle

4. Stan

The whole time we were making that fucking list, we had no idea we'd really be going in reverse order.

So as I sat there rocking back and forth in my seat trying to keep my cool, going back on the same thoughts again and again, Kyle was sitting right there next to me. He was still alive. He wasn't rocking back and forth in his seat; he wasn't crying or trying not to look like a pussy in front of the twenty so people there with us; he was stone. Of course I was more than a little surprised that he could sit there not blinking an eye as one by one Stan's relatives gave their speeches about him and Stan just laid there in front of us. I hadn't seen Kyle in a month, no one had. He spent every day locked up in his room and he talked to no one. I was a little relieved he had shown up for the service, for a few days of not hearing any word of him I was getting worried him might have tried to… well, you know.

We were sitting there, the last person was done and had walked away from the front to talk to the adults who were now out of their seats, Kyle and I stayed where we were. I was looking at Stan's picture frame in the small reef of flowers, I knew Kyle was still staring at his coffin.

I was really going to throw a fit the next time I talked to God, Stan wasn't supposed to die. Are you happy now? He didn't do anything, and you killed him! I thought loudly, then found myself just looking up at the ceiling, not God. He couldn't hear me, he was far too busy to listen to little old me, I gave up then looked back at Stan's coffin myself. It was bright white with pretty little leaf designs on it, that's not why I hated it. I hate closed casket funerals. I looked over at that coffin and I saw a coffin, not our lost friend. It was just a big white box with fancy carvings, Stan wasn't a box. I knew he was inside it, it's just that looking at it made it hard to believe that. It made it hard to believe he was really dead, gone, out the window.

This wasn't the first time I had felt that. Ever since Stan died I could never really grasp it, I guess the only person I could ever picture really dying was… me. Kyle had no problem grasping it, he knew from the second we all got the news Stan was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Kyle was always closest to Stan, they were inseparable, and now for the first time in our lives they were broken, and they would never be brought back together. Ever.

I actually remember that day a month ago, it was a Saturday, kind of like this one. It wasn't a day you'd wake up and think, "hey, I think today might be the day my best friend dies". It was more of a wake up and want to take a stroll around the block kind of day. I remember the sun was out and shinning, it was the hottest day of the month so far, meaning still pretty cold because it was September. I was over at the pond reading Play Boy's, it was a really nice day. The skies were clear, the birds where singing, probably the greatest day of the whole year; it was also Kyle's and my worst day of our lives.

So there I was, sitting on a log near the water reading when I got a call from Jimmy saying to come down to the intersection in front of the high school. I really hated that intersection, it made my skin crawl every time I had to cross it to get to school. The traffic lights were defective, and there was a really sharp turn before the light so lots of people accidentally ran it because there were no signs indicating the most dangerous intersection in South Park was just a turn away. I ran over there as fast as I could, a little crowed had gathered around the area watching the paramedics push someone in the back of an ambulance as I arrived.

There was blood and other stuff all over the place and people whispering and someone was screaming as they ran up behind me. That person was Kyle. He pushed through the crowd of people and ran out into the middle of the street at the ambulance, but a policeman stopped him and wouldn't let him pass. The ambulance started up and drove off, Kyle fell to his knees and just sat there the next hour with out moving. I didn't get close to him, I knew he didn't want to talk to me, all he wanted was Stan. At the time we didn't know Stan was already dead, Kyle knew thought. Some how the spiritual connection connecting them was broken, and he felt it. Something happened to Kyle that day, something snapped. I stood there watching him from a distance, he slowly stood up and ran home, and no one had seen him since then until now.

Kyle got up then; he walked over to Stan's coffin and ran his hand along the side of it. I stood up and walked over behind him, he was staring at Stan's picture, it was taken by the school for our last library cards. Just Stan smiling with his same old hat against the dull blue background. It was supposed to remind us of the happier times when we were together, it didn't. The only thing it reminded me of was that he was dead. I remember the day we took that photo, none of us were really happy, we were forced to wear nice clothes and fake smiles posing for a picture that didn't fill the void, it never would, couldn't they see that? A picture paints a thousand words, but a picture isn't Stan. It isn't our friend, and it can't bring him back or stop the hurt.

It was kind of funny though, Stan and I weren't close like he and Kyle were, we were good friends, but we didn't exactly give two shits about each other. We didn't spend each waking moment thinking about each other like I knew he and Kyle did. There was never anything special about us. We were just friends who said hi as we passed each other going to class; we'd never be able to do that again. I wasn't supposed to feel like I had lost a part of myself, but I did. I wouldn't give a second thought if I had to decide between hanging out with Stan or watching internet porn at Cartman's, but you know what they say… you never know what you got until it's gone, right? And if I felt this bad, Kyle must have been dead inside by then. In a way he had died long before the funeral. He died when Stan did.

"I loved him." A voice said almost in a whisper waking me up from my thoughts, it was Kyle.

"Dude?" I asked in the way I wanted him to repeat himself, this was the first time I had heard him talk the whole service, none the less since the last time I saw him.

He was looking down at the casket now, "I loved him, I loved him." He repeated, then looked up beyond Stan's photo at the stained glass window of Jesus hanging from his cross behind Stan's box. "I loved him."

I realized then what he meant, I always knew there was something more to them, but something told me Stan never knew. Kyle went on repeating himself like a broken record, broken he was.

"Kyle, calm down." I said in a low voice grabbing his shoulders and I shook him gently a few times, he just kept looking up into the distance.

"I never got the chance to tell him…" He said blankly trailing off.

I took Kyle outside for a minute for him to get some air, he was having a moment, and I didn't want him near anything Stan or church-related for a while. I went ahead and sat on the curb in front of the crematory, Kyle continued to stand just looking up at the dark sky. We were out there almost an hour before they called us back in because they were going to burn Stan's body into little ashes then shove them in a jar.

I stood brushing the dirt off me then pulled Kyle back inside where we followed the Marsh family to the room with the ovens. Stan's mom Sharon was trying to comfort her husband as he bawled right in front of everyone. Shelly was standing by her boyfriend; she no longer had headgear, she was crying too, but was trying to hide it. My parents and brother were there too, but they were in the back minding their own business, Kyle's parents and Ike were also trying to comfort the Marsh's, they were always the closest to them because Stan and Kyle were best friends. Cartman and his mom didn't come; Cartman had a planned trip to the Denver marine amusement park and was definitely not going to postpone it just to go to Stan's funeral and cremation.

The employees pushed Stan's box into the oven then closed the door behind it, then the fire was turned on and we all saw through the little rectangular window his coffin engulfed in the flames. We stood there for the first hour just watching, and then slowly people started to leave. I left after and hour and fifteen minutes, everyone was going back to the church next door where the service was held. I sat in one of the back rows getting a full view of the Jesus stained glass. A few minutes later and the Marsh's join the rest of everyone who came in the church, that meant Kyle was the only one still over there.

I got up a while later and joined the others in the front and started a conversation with Ike who was only a little traumatized by the whole thing.

"Ike," I said sitting down next to him, the adults were in their own conversations around us, but they weren't paying us any mind, "how's it going? How has Kyle been the past few weeks?"

He looked over at me and sighed, "You know Kyle, he can't really get over himself."

I leaned back against my chair, "Really? Well, he did lose his best friend—"

"All he lost was himself." Ike said loudly interrupting me. "I don't really get it, I was never this worked up when Kristen died."

That was one of Ike's friends who had died around two years ago in a skiing accident. I don't really remember him being too worked up about it, I guessed Ike wasn't really the emotional type. Then again, I don't think he and Kristen were that good of friends, but I don't really know that much about Ike's personal life.

"I know, I'm just worried about Kyle, I mean, he and Stan were best friends, maybe even more than best friends." I said whispering the last park, luckily he didn't catch it.

"I still don't think it's that big of a deal." He admitted.

I'm kind of big on right to free speech and being able to voice my opinion because it allowed me to call Cartman a big fat ass, but saying Stan's death was no big deal made me want to sock the kid in the face.

"What do you got against Stan?" I asked loudly, and probably more forcefully than I intended.

He looked over at me with a weird look on his face, "Nothing, I just hate funerals…" He said; now I really wanted to punch his lights out. "…It just… reminds me of Georgy, you know?"

Right. Georgy. That little midget goth that moved away a few years back. I never really thought too much of the goth kids, they were just there. I guess going to a funeral hearing nothing all day but stuff about death would remind you of your middle school crush who just happened to love it. The Broflovski's have weird taste in guys. Not that Stan is weird or anything, god what the hell.

I admitted it; I hated funerals now too. Especially Stan's. He just happened to be crossing the street on that block at that time, and that truck just happened to not know there was a stoplight right around the corner. It really could have been anyone; I was now really wishing it would have been someone else, anyone. Especially me. Then I'd just come back and attend my own funeral. Then maybe I wouldn't hate the damn things so much.

I left Ike alone then, well, more like he left me. He went over to talk to his mom or something, I sat their leaning up against the back of my chair with my legs crossed and my hands behind my head. Everyone around me was talking in whispers, why the hell did everyone whisper in churches? Were they afraid God might hear them? No, he was too busy anyway to hear them, even if you started screamed your prayers he'd be too busy killing teenagers before their time with guilt-tripped best friends who have little secret things for them. Is that really how you got your kicks? Maybe you should meet my good friend Eric, I'm sure you two could have a lively conversation over a nice cup of BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT.

I ended up accidentally falling asleep in my chair, but no one noticed because my hood was up. About two hours had passed, everyone was still in the church making conversation except for Kyle, so I decided to get up and go look for him. It couldn't be too hard, he seemed to be where ever Stan was, so I guessed in the crematory. I walked over and let myself in, I saw him sitting in the hallway in a chair outside the cremation room full of ovens hunched over gazing at whatever it was he had in his hands pressed up against his chest.

I went over and sat next to him, he didn't look up, he just kept looking at the thing in his hands which I could tell by now was an urn. He was holding the remains of Stan, I guess three hours was all it took to burn the rest of him and put him in that little jar, not to mention freezing it. He was holding it like it was his precious or something, he was sniffling. I could tell he was trying not to cry, Stan was dead, and now he wasn't even Stan. He was just ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

I wanted to hold Stan too, he was my friend as well, wasn't he? But something told me Kyle needed time before he could give it up. I saw a little drop of water fall on the lid of the urn, Kyle was crying. He was crying and he was trying to hide it and he wanted to be alone. It would have been best if I had left him alone, but I wanted my turn with Stan's urn.

"Uh, hey Kyle," I said leaning over getting a better look at it, "would you mind if I got to hold—"

He didn't give me enough time to finish before he just handed me the urn, no fighting it, no questions asked. He held it out to me in his left hand, his head still down, I pried it from his grasp and held it for a minute; Stan wasn't a jar either. Kyle just coiled up his arm and it let it rest on his lap next to his other one, I could see through his hair he was staring down at his hands wide eyed with his mouth slightly open. We wasn't crying at the moment, but it wouldn't last. He wouldn't let go that easily.

I held the urn up to my face to get a better look at it, it was just a normal urn… it just had our best friend inside it.

"Hey Kyle, remember that one time when Cartman thought my ashes was cocoa mix so he drank me?" I asked trying to get him to laugh or something. "You remember that?"

He was silent for a minute, "Yeah, I remember." He said seriously, apparently it was not the time for jokes. "Kenny, I know you're uncomfortable here, you can go if you want, I don't mind."

That actually sounded pretty good, but I didn't believe for a second Kyle would be alright if I left. Looking back on it, maybe it would have been better if I had left then, just left him there to be miserable, maybe then I would have kept my mouth shut and prevented the whole thing. But, at the time, it seemed that the better thing to do was try to make him feel better.

"Kyle, you want to talk to me about it?" I asked holding out Stan's jar for him.

He didn't say anything, he just took back the urn into his arms petting it lightly, he was messed up. I had to think of something fast to say or else he might run back to his room and lock himself away from society with Stan's jar for eternity. At least then the rest of us wouldn't really have to worry about him then, as long as he was with Stan we were all pretty much sure he'd have all he would need. I had to do something though, I couldn't just sit there watching him drown himself in misery.

"Kyle, I'm sure he's in a better place, we just have to accept he's gone and move on, alright?" I said putting me hand on his shoulder; he immediately cringed at my touch and tensed up. "We just have to remember what he was, at least the years he had with us were good ones, right? We had fun, we saw sights, saw a few girls on the side, right?" Maybe I should have left that last part out, Kyle didn't give me any sign it had hurt him, but Kyle was always good at hiding how he felt.

I mean, he had no reaction when he saw Wendy at the funeral, but of course the dead's only ex-girlfriend would show up; after they broke it off they were still friends. I didn't get that at all, how could someone you dated become your friend afterward? Saying "Hey, we can still be friends" after a break up is like your dad saying to you, "Hey, your dog died, but you can still keep him". Kyle never really liked Wendy, even after she and Stan broke up, so it was a good thing she kept her distance. I bet she could tell Kyle was the most emotional one there, including out of the Marsh's.

When Wendy showed up she didn't cry or anything, she wasn't grieving, she just came to pay respects. I guessed she didn't really love him anymore; not like Kyle did. Getting back to him, he still hadn't said a word back to me or moved.

"Just think of all the good things you did together, like when we all went fishing, or when we were in that cult?" I laughed a little after that last one, Kyle didn't think it was funny. "Or what about the time he took a dump in the elementary school urinal? You remember that?"

If I had stopped to think about what I was saying, maybe I would have come to the conclusion this wasn't helping him, more like opening up Kyle's old wounds.

I leaned closer to hear him whisper something quietly, "Just go Kenny. Just leave me alone. I know you're trying to help, but it's not."

I sat back up in my seat then, now he was just pissing me off, so I fought back, "You know, I don't see why you're so upset over this, it's been a whole month." I felt him tense more, I was really making him angry. "I'm just trying to help you, dude, just because you feel guilty you couldn't save your boyfriend doesn't mean you have to make me feel bad." He hadn't done anything yet, he was really good at holding in his emotions. "Damn, if Stan could see you now, I wonder what he'd think."

That's when Kyle lost it, he jumped up from his seat accidentally knocking it over and stood above me holding Stan close to him in his hands, "SHUT UP KENNY, SHUT UP!" He screamed clenching his eyes closed and his fists tighter around Stan's jar. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

I stood then meeting his height and I shook a fist in the air, "Why the hell are you so worked up? You're not the only one who cares about him, you're not the only one here, you just put yourself above everyone else's feelings because you need to to tell yourself Stan cared about you the most! You're just a selfish bastard!" I yelled, that made him open his eyes wide just staring at me, tears streaming down his face from both eyes, oh god that was horrible. "Kyle," I called, he was running for the door now, "Kyle, come back! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!" I managed to catch up to him before he could slip out the door and I grabbed him by his wrist. "Listen to me!"

"Let go of me!" He screamed trying to pull away from me, it was a good thing Stan's jar was in his other hand or he might have dropped it. "Let go of my fucking arm!"

I pulled him away from the door back to our seats and sat him down, "Kyle, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I just got… caught up in myself."

He didn't look at me; he had his head down again with his hair hanging down in front of his face. I let his hand go; it just fell to his side, then I sat next to him again. We sat there in the silence a while, I thought it was probably best I hadn't said anything, it might have been a month, but if Kyle still needed time then all I could do was give him some.

"Kyle, if you ever want to talk about it—"

"I don't, and I won't. Ever." He said softly, interrupting me.

I bit my lip, he needed time, but maybe a little push wouldn't hurt, "I know you won't, but if you ever want to just come over to my house and just sit together, we don't have to talk or anything—unless you want to. If you ever just want to not talk with a friend." I said, I didn't put my hand on his shoulder again, it would be too soon. "If you just don't want to be alone, you know my number."

He sighed, "Thank you, Kenny, really, I know you're trying, but I don't think I'm going to be going out much anymore, my mom agreed to home schooling me… it would just be too painful."

"I totally understand dude, still, if anything ever comes up, just stop by anytime, you're always welcome, you know that." I said, maybe a breakthrough was finally being made with him.

"I know." Kyle breathed simply. "I just want to be alone now."

I stood then, "No problem, I'll just go, call me later, or not, I'll leave you two alone." I said squatting in front of him so I could see his face, he didn't look like I had made any kind of a breakthrough, something told me I hadn't, I believed it.

I wanted to make Kyle feel a little better, if I didn't our whole conversation would be pointless, I wanted to walk away knowing he wouldn't go home crying himself to sleep. I had to say something amazing to get some kind of reaction out of him, so I just said the first thing that came to my mind.

If I had known the effect my word would have on him, I would have never said them. Or, maybe I would have. It was mixed emotions, but at the time the only thing I was focused on was making happy that moment, not the long run. But really, how was I supposed to know that by saying that it would have such a big impact on all our lives—and afterlives?

"Well, you know the next time I die I'll tell Stan you said hi."

Kyle froze that moment; he stopped crying and looked up at me from Stan's jar. He was smiling. That was not a good sign, he had just thought of an idea, something so horribly bad and righteously good at the same time. Behind that creepy smile and his glossy, red eyes was some crazy, twisted thought I had brought into existence. That was the reason the moment he looked up at me I had regretted saying anything.

"No, I'll tell him myself."


This is going to be a long one, trust me.