Title: K-Word Kyle
Summary: Kyle hates, more than anything else in the world, to be called a "kike." What will happen when he gets pushed over the edge? One-shot.
Rated: T for some strong language
Pairings: What do you mean, pairings? This ain't no fluffy slashfic! Geez!
Notes: This is my first South Park story, so I think everybody's in character. Anyway, thanks for reading and for any reviews you leave.
It was a winter wonderland in South Park, Colorado. Last night, it had begun to snow, which quickly turned into a flurry and then, by four that morning, a blizzard. By the time Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, and Kenny McCormick met at the school bus stop that morning, an amazing eighteen inches of snow had accumulated on the ground, and the snowfall was still going strong.
The three friends stood silently in the snow, not saying a word. Four minutes and twenty-three seconds later, Kyle broke the silence.
"The snow sucks," he complained, taking off his orange coat to shake the snow off of it. "Look! It's getting in my favorite jacket!"
"Shut up, you little kike," yelled Cartman, not giving a crap about the stupid Jew or his stupid jacket.
"Hey, don't you call me a kike, you fat bastard!" Kyle shot back, now starting to get angry.
"I'm not fat!" argued Cartman, with a slight hint of whining in his voice.
"Well, then you're overweight. Now shut your mouth or you just leveled up to Level Obese," threatened Kyle.
Now Cartman was on the verge of exploding. "I'm not fat!" he insisted. "I'm big-boned!"
Kyle scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You always say that!"
"Well, at least I don't celebrate Hannukah and miss out on all the fun, huge-ass Christmas presents I get every year even though I'm a foul-mouthed jerk to everyone I see, you little, homosexual, Jewish..." Cartman had to stop to catch his breath.
"Don't you say it!" warned Kyle.
"Oh, okay, I won't say it," Cartman lied, suddenly gaining a cheeky anime smiley face.
"Really?" Kyle gasped. "You won't?" Kyle became so overwhelmed with emotion that he ran up to Cartman hugging and kissing him, tears dripping down his cheeks. "Oh, thank you, thanks so much, Cartman!"
As they hugged, a man walked by and stared at them. "Gay, fairy lovers... what faggots," he muttered under his breath, walking away quickly.
But during the "lovers'" embrace, Cartman took a deep breath, aaaaaaannnd...
"KKKIIIIIIKKKEEE!¡!¡!"
Cartman belted the word out so loudly that it echoed across the greater South Park metropolitan area.
"KKKIIIIIIKKKEEE... KIIIIIIKKKEEE... iiikkkee...!"
Over at the Broflovski house, Sheila was watching The Price is Right and patching a hole in Ike's pants leg when the slur found its way into the living room.
"KKKIIIIIIIIIKKKEEEE!"
"What-what-what?!" Sheila was so offended by this that she slid off the couch and fainted. Just then, by sheer coincidence, the Price is Right "losing horns" sounded on the television.
Kyle pulled back from Cartman and began to growl louder and louder. Cartman backed away slowly, repeating nervously, "Nice Kahl... good boy... who's a good boy, Kahl?" Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He tried to flee from his violent friend, but Kyle lunged at him, grabbed onto his arm, and began biting him, barking madly.
"I'm so sorry I provoked you, Kahl!" Cartman apologized, now scared out of his wits. "Please, don't hurt me, Ka-Ka-Kahl!" he stuttered.
"Kikish Kyle?!" misheard Kyle, steam blowing out of his ears. He let out a roar and proceeded to bite him even harder while punching him in the face.
"W-w-what the fuck are you doing?" Trying to defend himself, Cartman tried to shake Kyle off him, but Kyle latched onto his arm tighter than ever. So he started to try to slap him off of him, and eventually, he succeeded when he accidentally slapped him in the nuts. Kyle let go of Cartman's now-bleeding arm and fell to the ground, doubled over and screaming in pain.
Cartman pointed and laughed tauntingly as Kyle held his scrotum and cried. "What a baby!" he cackled. Kyle eventually got it together and the two got into a major fistfight. Well, at least Kyle fistfought. Cartman was just hitting him to try to get him off of him. Cartman began to get close to tears himself. "No, NO, YOU'RE NOT A KIKE, YOU'RE NOOOTT A KIIIIKEEE!" he tried to reassure, but failing miserably as this only made things worse. Eventually, the fight got so intense that the two boys somehow kicked up a giant cartoon dust cloud. Debris went everywhere, so Kenny pulled the string on his parka and tightened his hood to keep it from getting on him and killing him.
Suddenly, out of the blue, he asked, through his tight parka, "Hey, where's Stan?" His question was answered when he saw him trying to walk in the blizzard.
"Ugh, damn it," grumbled Stan, falling face-first into the one-and-a-half foot deep product of last night's cold front from Canada. "I can't walk any further! I hate snow! Look at me, I'm up to my fuckin' knees - Oh, my God." Stan was shocked to see two of his friends in an intense fight and Kenny not doing a thing about it. He ran up to him. "Kenny, what's the deal here?"
"Oh, hey, Stan, you're just in time," said Kenny through his parka.
Stan brushed the snow off his clothes and sighed as Kenny continued to ramble on and on about how he was almost late for the bus and how Ms. Crabtree would have a fit if she had to stop for him. Stan finally interrupted, "No, I mean, why are they fighting?"
"I dunno," Kenny shrugged, "but you almost missed the bus. Look." Stan was exasperated that nobody was answering his question. He looked in the direction Kenny was pointing, and sure enough, the bus was coming around the corner to the bus stop.
The bus stopped and the doors opened. Once again, Ms. Crabtree was driving. Everyone dreaded her for being a strict, loud-mouthed bitch. She was almost like a drill sergeant, only... well, bitchier.
"GET ON THE BUS, YOU LITTLE MAGGOTS!" she screamed.
"Gee, with the snow piling up this high, you'd think they'd cancel school," Stan commented.
"WELL, WHY WOULD WE DO THAT?!" Ms. Crabtree leaned in and shoved her face into Stan's. "WE HAVE SNOW SO MUCH, WE STILL HAVE IT PILED UP HIGH IN THE FREAKIN' SUMMER!"
As Ms. Crabtree spoke, spittle flew into Stan's face. "Well, you do have a point..." Stan squeaked, timidly, trying to wipe it off with his mittens.
"NOW GET ON THE BUS AND TAKE YOUR SEATS!" directed Ms. Crabtree. As Stan and Kenny climbed onto the bus with the other boys and girls, Ms. Crabtree finally noticed that Cartman and Kyle were fighting. She grabbed them both by the necks and dropped them hard onto the bus floor. "WHY WERE YOU TWO HITTING EACH OTHER?"
Both boys, now severely beaten up and bloody, began to talk at once.
"He called me a kike!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Yes, he did!"
"Well, not on purpose!"
"SHUT UP!" ordered Ms. Crabtree, going red in the face, kicking the two boys into vacant bus seats far away from each other. She pointed to Kyle. "YOU, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"
"He called me a kike!" Kyle yelled, pointing to Cartman, who was sitting near the back of the bus.
"WHAT!?" Ms. Crabtree shouted.
Not wanting to get into trouble, Cartman said, "Oh, he was taking his anger out on me because his mom wouldn't let him stay up to watch Dick Van Dyke."
"WHAT?!"
"Oh, uh, um, Kyle got mad at Cartman, because you have a nice dick," Kenny joked, snickering. The entire bus broke out in laughter.
"I HAVE A NICE DICK?!" Ms. Crabtree roared. "I DON'T EVEN HAVE A DICK, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHOLE!" She picked up Kenny, whose last muffled words before she tossed him out the window was, "It was just a joke!"
As Kenny broke through the bus window, broken glass fragments pierced him in the eye, somehow killing him instantly. His dead body soared through the air and he landed head-first in a mountain of deep, deep snow. Almost instantly, rats began to crowd around Kenny's corpse and nibble on him.
As Ms. Crabtree started up the bus, Stan gasped, "Oh, my God, Ms. Crabtree killed Kenny!"
"You ba - wait, didn't Kenny cause his own death by saying that..." Kyle lowered his voice to a whisper so he wouldn't have to endure the same fate as Kenny. "Ms. Crabtree has a nice dick?"
"Kenny, you bastard," Stan whispered back.
"Wait," realized Cartman. "We're not even real. We're just construction paper held together with cheap glue from a dollar store. Even our world is just construction paper and glue! So, isn't the author of this fanfiction in charge of whoever dies?"
"You're right...Brianna Fogg, you bastard!" shouted Kyle, shaking his fist.
"You just insulted the author, Kyle!" yelled Cartman. "Well, if she's a bastard, then... then, you're a kike!"
"Why, you little...!" Kyle lunged at Cartman again.
"Wait, I didn't mean..." That was all poor Cartman could get out before Kyle tackled him and began ripping his construction-paper body to shreds. Stan just sighed and sunk down into his seat, hoping that they would get to South Park Elementary before another person died.
"All, right, alcohol is bad, mm'kay?" mumbled the school's guidance counselor, Mr. Mackey. He was doing a session on the dangers of alcoholic beverages. The problem was, he did something just like that last week, and it was exactly the same, except it was about drugs last time and not alcohol.
"Alright, beer is bad, mm'kay?" he continued, writing "beer" on the blackboard with a piece of chalk. "Uh, whiskey's bad." He wrote that on the board. "Uh, you shouldn't drink whiskey..."
"Boooooo!" screamed Kyle, throwing crumpled-up papers at Mr. Mackey. "This is just like your last session!"
"Shut up, ki - er, Kahl," hissed Cartman.
"No way, fat-ass!" Kyle yelled. "This guy sucks!"
The rest of the class looked at each other and quickly agreed. They threw stuff at Mr. Mackey until he was forced to ambush into the hallway. The 3:00 bell rang, so it was time to go home.
"Yeah, I gotta go home, fellas," Butters drawled in his country accent. "I'm grounded again."
"What for now?" sighed Cartman.
"I went to see Mr. Peabody and Sherman," Butters frowned.
"Dude, why would you get in trouble for seeing a movie?" asked Stan.
"It's rated PG," Butters explained. "I'm not allowed to see anything rated over G without a parent."
"Well, I don't think G-rated movies even exist anymore. It's all PG and up now. And your parents are pussies!" said Kyle. "Trying to shelter you from the real world. They should be ashamed of themselves. Anyway, what's wrong with a little 'mild action' and 'rude humor?'"
"What? My mom and dad are WHAT?" Butters got angry. "Well, then... Stan's parents are stupid for making him wear that hideous blue snowhat!"
"My parents are stupid?" Stan repeated. "Well, then, Cartman's obese!"
"I'm obese? Well, then..." Cartman couldn't hold it in anymore. "Kahl's a kike!"
Kyle was speechless. While the other three were just joking around, Kyle took it seriously. "I-I'm a kike..." he stammered. He growled and almost attacked Cartman, but stopped himself. Suddenly, he didn't feel like tearing Cartman to shreds. He didn't even want to go home and bawl his eyes out. He just stood there, mouth agape.
"Kyle?" Stan came running up to him, snapping his fingers in his face, but Kyle remained unresponsive. "Come on, Kyle." His voice held worry, panic. "Please. You want to go get a burger, from McDonald's?" Usually, this always cheered him up, but not today.
"Let me try... Kahl." Cartman came up to him next. "Come on, this isn't like you to turn down a burger." There was no response. "Kahl... listen, I'm sorry I called you a kike... please, will you forgive me?"
But still, there was nothing. "Well, okay..." he said uneasily. "See ya later." So, the three boys began to walk towards the door. Slowly, Kyle's eyes filled with tears, and he trudged sadly behind Stan, Cartman, and Butters.
Once they were out the door, the other kids got on the school bus to go home, but Kyle went the opposite way, walking home all by himself. His throat burned painfully as he struggled not to cry.
I'm no Kike, he thought indignantly; hell, I'm hardly even a jew.
He didn't like being called slurs just because he was a different religion than the other kids, and to him, "kike" was the worst word in the world.
But as he sat down on a park bench, he realized something as a smile slowly grew on his face. It doesn't matter if I'm a kike. And it doesn't matter if I am Jewish. I'm still a person. Being a Jew doesn't make me a non-society member. And Cartman, Stan, Kenny, all of them, they're still my friends!
"They're still my friends!" he shouted out loud, causing passerbys to look at him awkwardly.
Upon Kyle's realization, he slowly wiped away the tears of now-former pain and made another realization. "Cartman doesn't need to apologize to me. I need to apologize to him." So, he changed direction, and soon, was standing on Cartman's doorstep, ringing his doorbell.
Cartman's mother opened the door. "Hi, come in, Kyle, come in!" she greeted kindly. Kyle's grin stretched even bigger and wider as he ascended the stairs to Cartman's room.
"Oh, hey, Cartman," Kyle said cheerfully after his friend opened the door. "I just wanted to talk to you about something." So, Cartman motioned for Kyle to come on in, and he shuffled into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
Almost immediately following that were sounds of kicking, punching, and anguished shrieks of, "No! NOOOO! Stop it! Roll the colorful credits and end the show! END THE SHOOOWW!¡!"
And the author downright refused to.
THE END
