Eric Cartman was quietly asleep on his desk when he was awoken by a pencil being stabbed into his side, followed by a "Wake up, fatass!" whispered at him.
"Kyle, you stupid jew!" He whispered back.
"Hey, you're lucky I fucking woke you up! The teacher looks pissed at you!" Kyle argued. The 16-year-olds glared at each other for a few seconds, then turned their attention to the teacher. No one noticed that after every conversation he had with Cartman, he blushed. This time was no different. He glanced back at his friend quickly, and luckily it was not detected. Stan, however, saw that Kyle wasn't really paying attention to whatever the hell the teacher was saying.
"Kyle? You ok?" He asked quietly.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…. Just thinking about shit…" Kyle responded. Then the bell rang. Kyle rushed out of the room and dashed to his locker. He gathered his things, for the just finished class had been 6th period. He attempted to sit alone, but Cartman just had to sit next to him.
"What's up, kike?" Cartman asked rudely.
"Shut the hell up, Cartman! Stop using the fucking 'K-word'! Its fucking racist!" Kyle hissed, trying not to shout. Cartman simply pretended to not hear Kyle.
"What was that? I think you were choking on a tampon, jew." The heavy-set boy said calmly, irritating the red-head even more.
"FUCK OFF, CARTMAN!" He spat. Surprisingly, it went unheard.
"Get the sand out of your vagina, Kyle!" Cartman said, putting his hands up in a false 'I surrender' motion. Kyle turned away, mumbling about things, when a small envelope fell into his lap. He turned around and saw Wendy, Stan's girlfriend.
"Kyle, you're invited to my party! My parents are out of town, so anything goes! Oh, and you're invited, too, Cartman…" Wendy said with an obviously fake smile. Before Kyle could say anything, Wendy was talking to Stan again.
"Hey, jew, looks like its party time tomorrow!" Cartman exclaimed. "Of course, you can't drink anything without throwing up. Alcohol sensitive pussy…."
"Hey, shut the fuck up, fatass! Ok, at this party, I'll drink…. 3 shots of whiskey."
"Hah! 3? Well, if that's all you can do without dying, I guess that's what you'll do."
"You're on, fat fuck." Kyle retorted. The bus stopped at where Kyle, Kenny, Stan, and Cartman always got off. They exited, all of them anxious for the party. All, that is, except for Kyle.