The Synagogue

Whil-o-whisp

Fandom: Goth Yaoi Love (red Goth x Curly Goth), South Park

Word Count: 1,184

A/n: Wow. I've had this in my head for a while now. Ever since I made Red Goth Jewish, in Hate, (or, his family jewish... per se) Red Goth is Asher Thorne Johnson, Curly Goth is Eric Nickalus Reeves.

Disclaimer: I own little ortgot, yes I do... yes I do *eats Ortgot* Mmmmm yeeessss Iiiii doooooo~

Stupid Judaism. Stupid Jewbilee. Stupid mom. Why can't the world just see how shitty this all is and freaking give up? Or at least stop roping me into this shit. It's all retarded anyway. 'Lets all be friends and fire freaking rainbows from our asses as we skip merrily to Jewbilee'. Fuck I hate this. Wasting a perfectly horrible Saturday to go to this stinking place to worship a god I don't respect or believe in. God? That's a laugh.

"Now Remember during Jewbilee we will be making macaroni sculptures for Moses, as well as remembering our savior, who released our Moses from the-" Make it stop, please. "Conch many years ago after the Anti-semantic Jewish leader-" I hear this every year. Every Saturday we go over this crap. "Trapped Moses within the conch, Kenny McCormick, who died for our Moses." I go to school with that fucking faggot, why would I want to remember him during the freaking summer. Fucking hell I need a smoke.

"Jewbilee is an exciting experience. My father, my grandfather, myself AND my little brother have all gone since we were children, and it brings the family closer." Well, Kyle Broflovski, I think your little brother would much rather be watching the Jim Lehrer News Hour than listening to you prattle on and on about how fucking great your Jewbilee is, you conformist asshole. Get a freaking life. Where the hell did this Synagogue even come from anyway? There are only maybe twenty Jews in this entire Hick town.

At least Nickalus is waiting for me when this is over. And I hope to high hell that he has some cigarettes for me, because that bitch of a woman I spawned from stole mine. Fuck her. Fuck her till it bleeds. Some Vodka might be nice too. Hell, why not go to the graveyard while we're at it. Supposed to be a new Moon and its overcast anyway.

"You should really pay attention Asher, sweetie, I'm thinking of letting you go there this summer so me and daddy can have our vacation."

You should get a fucking life and stop noticing I exist. You force me to go and I swear I will kill you in your sleep after I ruin your freaking reputation as only a gay Goth kid can. Kyle isn't fooling me, even if he's fooling these lemmings we call grimly 'Nazi Conformist Cheerleaders'. He's not even fooling his little brother. He'll be a minion yet if Lucas gets his gothic little hands on him. He'd look dashing in Black. And it'd piss that Asshole of a big brother off like nobody's business. Oh what fun.

I hope the entire synagogue heard my cell vibrate, Mother, just to piss you off even more. She glares at me as I pull it out, sinking down into my seat to read the new text.

Nearly Done?

-Nickalus

My Mother hisses like a leaking pneumatic lock when she's pissed and trying to be quiet. Maybe I should tell her that. I should also tell her that her boobs don't fool anyone, much less my father who paid the fucking bills for them.

If only. These asshole conformists just keep blathering on. Got Vodka?

It only takes him a couple moments to reply. He's probably at a stop light or bored out of his goddamn mind. Its not like he'd wait for a text from me of all people. That'd be conformist. And why the hell would I wait for his text? Why would I simply sit and stare and for that little buzz. No, only freaking love struck conformist teenagers do that. I'm just bored out of my mind you asshole. Shut up.

Yeah…got plans?

-Nickalus

Even over text he knows the effect of a well-placed pause. Man's a writing genius. If only he could speak like he wrote. Put those words to that mouth and he could change this sheep filled world. Well, like they'd ever listen to them. They're assholes. Retards. Sheeple. They don't want to change.

Graveyard. Vodka. Cigarettes and Siouxsie and the Banshees. You up for it?

It took him almost ten minutes to reply and like a fucking conformist, my body betrayed me, my mind, my only sanctuary, betrays me. My blackened hollow of a heart speeds up and I fear he might deny me this, tell me that I was being a conformist (I am NOT a goddamn conformist). He's probably driving. Hasn't even seen the text or has but hasn't been able to look at it. That's it. He's probably got Emilie Autumn or Siouxsie and the Banshees playing full blast to drown out the retarded rap his fellow drivers depend on.

He's probably got the drivers window of his mothers dark blue Mazda rolled down to vent the smoke that passes from those lips, driving one handed to keep the ashes from the upholstery. One less thing for her to bitch about. One day I want to fuck in that car, just to piss that bitch off. Fuck, one of these days I just want to kiss him, even if that's all I ever get. That was so conformist. Only conformist little britney wannabes wish they could kiss or fuck in the back of somebody's car. Freaking Jesus. I might as well be one of them.

Only a conformist bitch would think of such things.

Freaking Jesus Christ, this is dragging. Maybe, if I can get Kenny in here with his old jacket, a fire will start and burn this whole place down.

Right. See you Then Asher.

-Nickalus

I could almost jump for joy if I had that much happiness in my shriveled up soul. That, for those who don't speak Nickalus, is an 'I have nothing else to do so why the fuck not.'. Now I'm willing to get through this without completely killing myself. Nickalus will have a bottle of his stepfather's Stolichnaya, his Siouxsie and the Banshees' Tinderbox album, and the box of Lucky Strikes he bought this morning waiting for me, I can ditch my parents so they can pretend they love each other and find some whores to screw, forget all about me, and I can have some peace.

As peaceful as a Goth can be, nestled between gravestones of conformists past, the night dark and dying, morbidly disinterested with the goings on of a world I gave up on in the womb, piss ass drunk, with an equally drunk, equally disinterested and just too irresistible gothic boy that makes me feel the most emotion I have in my shriveled, dying soul. What more could I ever ask for from this shit-tastic world I happen to live in.

I won't say that I have fallen in love with him. No, love is something my blackened heart cannot feel, but my mind and what little else is left of me needs him more than I need any cigarette, any vodka, any alcohol, anything in this world. The horrible thing is, I will never tell him. Or maybe thats the good thing about this. He will never know.

A/n: well, I hope you enjoyed this! TOODLES!