It was early morning. Kyle walked up to the same old bus stop he'd been waiting at everyday for what seemed like forever. Although it wasn't really much of a bus stop. More like the side of a deserted old road across from a retarded goat farm. And yes, the goats there actually were retarded, which probably explained why half the residents of South Park were retarded as well; it must have been retard hormones in the milk. Snow covered all bits of green and the air stood thick and cold. Like usual, three other boys were already there waiting. Well, not quite the usual, considering Cartman was usually the late one. Today was a little different, though.

"Hey dudes." he greeted. Cartman glared back with no expression, Stan gave him a shivering nod. Kenny just blinked, tucking his hands into his pockets. A few minutes passed by silently, without a sign of the bus. Not that anything was ever timely in South Park.

Eventually, Kyle decided to bring up what had been bothering him all night. When there was a mystery on his brain, it just didn't leave until he found answers.

"You know, I found my birth certificate in my mom's file cabinet last night." he began. Though when he spoke, the stupid cold air would get up his nose and burn it. This was why nobody bothered talking in the morning. They all looked on into the distance in their usual bored, early morning expressions. Nobody cared.

"So, it said I was born in 1989. Weird, huh? They must of screwed up on my birth date."

"Well, half the people in this town are retarded, jew." Cartman said.

"Muphh mee meh moat milk."

"Yeah, on my records it says the same thing." Stan added.

Kyle rubbed his chin. "Well, that's weird."

Just then the old bus pulled up from down the road. Mrs. Crabtree screamed at them to sit down and shut up. Heaven forbid the chilly air outside freeze off some of the ass she sat on every day.

Kyle was last to arrive at the bus stop the next day too. He'd spent the whole morning sneaking through the records in his mother's file drawer while they were all downstairs eating breakfast. He didn't want to look too suspicious.

"Dude!" he yelled to his friends, running to the bus stop. "You're not going to believe this!"

They all gave him a blank and empty stare, not unlike the faces of the retarded goats across the road, as they chewed on their grass in ignorant goat bliss. He took that as a sign to continue.

"So I was looking through some files again, and I found my parent's birth certificates too. It said my dad was born in 1956. And on Ike's papers, it said he was born in 1994."

"So what?" Stan replied, shivering. It was way too cold to be thinking about numbers and dates right now.

"So, my dad is only 41 and Ike is 3! Don't you see? All of these birthdates are off 14 years!"

Cartman gasped in horror. "Oh my god! It's a sign! The apocalypse is supposed to happen in year 2014, I saw it on TV."

"What does that have to do with what I'm saying?" Kyle shouted.

"I'm just telling you guys!"

He gritted his teeth at Cartman's stupidity. "There's not going to be an apocalypse! Stop believing everything you see on TV! And guys, there's definitely something weird going on here."

"Like what? Maybe their computers weren't working when they made the records. It's not that weird, Kyle." Stan argued.

"Yeah, but back when my parents were born there weren't computers. They had to write everything by hand. The same mistake can't happen that many times."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Whatever, just don't drag me into this one."

He sighed, then looked to Kenny and Cartman. Kenny shrugged.

Cartman looked equally indifferent, which was quite expected. "Totally don't care." he mumbled.

Later, that weekend.

"I'm not going down there by myself! What if I get raped?"

"How is a ghost with one leg going to rape you, Stan?"

"I don't know Kyle! Maybe ghosts don't need legs to rape!"

"Just stop being a pussy, and go already."

Stan's heart raced as they made it down the steps of his dark basement. He didn't like coming down here unless it was an emergency. Grandpa had told him many times about the dead one-legged crazy man that died in the corner of the basement and had been haunting it ever since. Supposedly, according to legend, the man only came out to rape little children. Of course Grandpa was a bit senile, but that didn't seem to calm his nerves one bit.

He inched down the steps slowly, holding the dim flashlight ahead of him but afraid to look and see what the light uncovered. Suddenly, something jabbed at his back and he flinched a foot in the air. It was Kyle, pushing him to move forward.

"JESUS, DONT DO THAT!" he screamed.

"Well you're not really moving!"

"I'm going as fast as I can." he said cautiously, continuing to inch down the steps, taking his sweet precious time.

"BOO!" Kyle shouted suddenly, nearly inducing a heart attack in his friend. "AHHH!" he screamed and flew down the staircase. He halted to a stop at the little hanging light bulb above the basement sink, then yanked the rope to turn on the light and backed into a wall, panting.

"Wow, do you really believe there's a ghost in here? Thats retarde-" Kyle was cut off when suddenly the light bulb started to shake, along with the shelf leaning against the wall. Everything started to vibrate like something was shaking it back and forth. The shaking got more and more violent. Stan froze in terror. It was almost like..

"Woo! Shake it!" they heard a voice call from upstairs. Oh god. Stan pinched his nose. "W-what was that?" Kyle stuttered, actual fear in his voice this time.

"It was my parents..." he explained, ashamed. "They get drunk and dance to disco music every weekend." The creaking sound in the floor above them became louder, which explained the shaking of everything below. Remnants of bass and awful music could be heard through the basement.

Kyle sniggered. "So that was the ghost, eh?"

"Shut up, dude! You were scared shitless too!"

Kyle frownded. "Let's just find the papers already." He started browsing through the cabinet against a cinderblock wall, hunched down with a flashlight in search of Stan's family certificates. It felt strangely criminal to be noosing into people's personal files, but he needed to find some answers.

Finally, he located a small folder with several certificate papers inside. He reached in and pulled the papers out. There was Stan's, Shelly's and even his parent's and grandparent's certificates. Perfect.

"Are those it?" Stan asked.

"Yep, these are it dude." Kyle began to search through them, looking at the birthdates on all of them. Just as he predicted, on Shelly's birth certificate, it read 1986. On Randy and Sharon's, it said 1959, and 1961. On Stan's grandpa's, it read 1898. "NO fucking way dude!"

"What?" Stan replied.

"You're grandpa was born in 1898?" Kyle asked, raising an eyebrow. "How the hell is he still alive?"

"Hm, I don't know. He...is pretty old."

"He'd be well over a centenarian, Stan! I told you, something strange is going on here. I'm going to find out what, too. Somebody's got to have the answers."

"Like who? Half the people in town are retarded, and Chef is dead. Who else is left to ask?" Stan shrugged.

Kyle thought for a moment. Stan contemplated for a moment as well. They looked at each other, having come to only one conclusion. "Dr. Mephisto!"