Not The Messiah (He's a Very Naughty Boy!)
I wish with all my heart a happy birthday for Ama Nosebrigepinch ^^
On Saturday morning at ten o'clock Stan woke up. He was never an early bird, least of all nowadays, especially since he got used to starting his day with a hangover. The words that had woken him were as usual:
"Big Harry and Mike in the Morning, talkin' about..." Stan quickly turned the audition off, not wanting to start his day with inevitable sounds of diarrhoea coming out of the radio. With eyes half-closed, he gingerly walked to the cupboard, taking a bottle of Jameson cleverly concealed in one of his blue red-poofball hats out of the shelf and taking a sip. He opened his eyes. There were no signs of excrements blocking his view, so he proceeded to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He used to do it after breakfast but now he couldn't risk his family finding out he had been drinking. When he got rid of the alcoholic breath, the black-haired ten-year-old boy drew the curtains to let in some light.
And he regretted having done that.
He couldn't believe what happened. Outside his window there was half the townspeople waiting for him to wake up, among them most of his class, their parents, his uncle Jimbo along with his companion, Ned, the mayor, the Park County Police Force, Professor Mephesto and his assistant born out of a llama, Kevin, the Raisins girls, Darryl Weathers leading most of the town's rednecks and many other people he hardly knew. They started cheering loudly once Stan had appeared in the window, leaving the boy astonished.
"Dude... what the fuck?" he said to himself. The crowd gasped.
"Behold! The lord has spoken!" Kevin Stoley, who seemed to be leading the large audience, shouted. The townspeople cheered.
"What else can you tell us, master?" asked Annie Faulk, who was standing right beside the window with the brown-haired boy.
"Um... What the hell are you people doing?" Stan raised an eyebrow, still wondering what on earth was going on.
"We're seeking the knowledge of the wise one, Stanley Marsh!" the girl with curly blond hair replied. The crowd cheered again, causing Stan to pinch the bridge of his nose.
The boy in the red poof-ball hat wearing a sky blue Terrance and Phillip pyjamas sighed. How exactly did this happen?
"Okay, children, let's take our seats," began Mr. Garrison as usual with his phlegmatic voice. The children sat down, not without making much additional noise. "Now, we're having a group project today, so I'd like you all to sit down in groups of four."
The project was supposed to be about describing an inspirational person. Stan sighed. He knew exactly how it was going to be like. He would choose to write about Brian Boitano, while his best friend would insist on writing about Chef. Cartman on the other hand would suggest doing Adolf Hitler, his life-long idol. The two would start an argument while Kenny would want to describe any chick that was on his mind (and in his magazines) at the moment. This was an obviously individual task and the only reason why Garrison made it a group exercise was for them to make enough noise while he would be watching gay porn on his mobile.
Stan automatically joint his seat with Kyle's as usual, so did Kenny and Eric, causing their teacher to roll his eyes. Garrison told them something about having no originality and ordered them to socialise with other friends. He eventually put Cartman in group with Lola, Craig and Tweek, whom he appointed the team leader, much to his panic. The poor boy landed in a group with Millie, Bebe and Wendy, following a "Woo-hoo!" on his behalf. Kyle in turn became groupmates with Timmy, Nichole and Clyde. Stan on the other hand was supposed to be in group with Jimmy, Kevin and Annie.
"So, uh, f-fellas, what w-would you like to write about very much?" the handicapped brown-haired boy in the yellow sweater asked awkwardly. Stan also felt weird. This wasn't a usual situation. He used to work with other kids.
"I don't know," he replied, putting his hands into his pockets. "Who do you guys want to describe?"
"No idea," Kevin said, unzipping his sky-blue jacket. "Whoever you like."
Everyone looked at Annie. She shrugged.
"Whatever works for you guys," she told them. There was a moment of silence, except for the other groups, which in turn were making a lot of noise.
"This is retarded," Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's just do something about Jesus, or some shit."
"Um..." Kevin started shyly. "I guess Luke Skywalker isn't an option?"
"No, no, no," Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not talking about Star Wars, Kevin. Luke Skywalker is a fictional character, Jesus is real, he lives in our town, for Christ's sake. Let's just do it and get it over with, okay?"
The boys nodded in agreement. Annie giggled quietly.
"This is the same old Stan I like," she smiled. "Always frustrated about everything, while trying to be rational to prove a point."
The black-haired boy raised an eyebrow at her. What was that remark all about? Did Wendy's friend have a crush on him? He hoped Wendy wouldn't find it out and make a scene about it...
"What are you talking about?" Kevin frowned. "Stan's not like that! Stan is a jolly guy that always remains positive despite the negative events around him!"
"Uh, what?" Stan was astonished. What the hell were those two talking about? This wasn't the time to discuss his personality, least of all while he was right there with them.
"Then we must be talking about a different Stan!" Annie glared at the male Stoley twin, taking up the challenge. "The Stan I know is the more cynical one, usually angry with idiots but then he's sometimes sympathetic at the same time."
"No, that's the Stan I don't want to remember," Kevin stood up and walked up to the window. He looked outside, a tear dramatically falling down his cheek. "Cynicism has almost nothing to do with who he was for years. People point to his years of pointing out and raging against the flaws of society and those around him, misconstruing why. These were never ragings of a cynic!"
"Um, guys, I'm right here!" interrupted Stan.
"Stan used to be the eternal child, not the naive character who Butters is, but as they actually exist," continued Kevin, turning around. "But as we moved on to the fourth grade, he started to dry out. He started fading into the background. Why? He was discarded by the society in favour of his silly father, the rivalry between Cartman and Kyle. Butters in turn killed his childishness I once loved!"
Okay, Stan thought. Now that sounded really gay. Those kids once seemed to be quiet, calm, peaceful people, but now they began to seem as crazy as his friends. Finally a thought struck him. Were they like this all along? It meant that all that time those two analysed his personality without him knowing! That thought was really creepy. It made them... stalkers!
"I guess he did lose his childishness when he started interacting with Butters," admitted Annie. "But then in fourth grade he evolved in the Stan I liked the most, blunt and leader-like. Whenever the town plunges into its usual craziness, Stan acts as its voice of reason."
"Well, at least we agree on something," Kevin smiled dryly. "Stan's a great leader. But it doesn't change the fact that he used to lead more in third grade, before Cartman took on that role. Nowadays Stan is only a shade of his old self!"
"Hey!"
"That's not true, Stan can still lead effectively, but his reasons are different than Cartman's!" argued Annie. "Above all, he is a hippie tree-hugging activist!"
"Am I fucking turning invisible?!" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You guys, just stop it!" Kyle tried to reason from his table. "You'll just have to accept you're both right in your own way!"
"Yeah, calm down, you guys," said Kenny, his voice muffled by his hoodie. "Why don't we talk about some chick instead of Stan?"
"Face it, Kevin, Stan has been changing since long ago and there's nothing you can do about it!" she pointed a finger at her half-Chinese classmate. "Every person has their own right to grow up and evolve! If Stan's bugging you, you might as well fuck off!"
"Nonsense!" Kevin folded his arms. "Stan doesn't bug me! It's only a tool misused by God! I won't blame him for the folly of his creator!"
"What does it have to do with the fucking project?!" the subject of the argument yelled.
Annie however, continued to ignore her idol. She finally snapped, stood up, and while getting red in the face, she suddenly grabbed Kevin by his anorak and pinned him to the floor.
"Don't you dare call Stan a tool, you fucking son of the bitch!" she began to throttle the confused Stoley twin. The whole fourth grade class was now staring at the two ten-year-olds fighting on the floor with their jaws dropped.
"You guys are retarded," Craig Tucker rolled his eyes. "Why are you arguing over one guy from our class, and the most boring one at that. For fuck's sake, he's the embodiment of averageness."
Kevin and Annie stopped fighting. They looked each other in the eyes and then glared angrily at Craig.
"Did you just... call Stan average?" the girl rolled up her sleeves. Kevin punched his open palm, not taking his eyes off Craig. The boy in the blue aviator cap flipped them both off, not without being a little scared.
The two launched themselves at the stoic child. Kevin bit his leg while Annie started to strangle him with her elbow. Tweek screamed in panic. Even Cartman decided to hide under the table.
"Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here!" Stan exclaimed. He wondered why Mr. Garrison wasn't reacting, but it was probably for the best. He would probably come to the conclusion that it was all Stan's fault.
"Urgh! You guys! You-you guys, chill out!" jittered Tweek. Annie grabbed him by his shirt.
"So you think Stan is boring too, huh?!" she shouted into his ear.
"AAGH! No! No! I think he's a very deep, interesting person! Gah!" the caffeine addict cried on the verge of fainting.
"You guys, stop that!" Stan raised his voice finally catching Kevin and Annie's attention. "Don't start fights over my personality, you're starting to become like Muslim terrorists or the Spanish Inquisition!"
"Whoa, I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition." Clyde raised an eyebrow.
"Shut up, Clyde!" silenced him Stan. "Let's just focus on doing the fucking task and then you're free to argue about what you like, I couldn't care less!"
There was a moment of silence. The two children looked at each other with guilt. Finally Annie smirked.
"Hah! You see?" she poked Kevin in the stomach. "I told you he can still be a great leader!"
"He's not leading anything, he's just ordering us to do what he says!"
"That's called leading, dumbass!" Annie punched him. They broke into a fight again.
"Goddamnit!" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jimmy, tell them something!" he said to the unusually quiet handicapped kid. Jimmy was reasonable, maybe he would put some sense into them.
"Well, f-fellas," stammered the stand-up comedian. "I don't think Stan's so cyn-n-nical anymore. N-n-nowadays, he t-tends to be more selfish, such as when he w-was in that N-n-nike commercial."
"What?!" Stan couldn't believe it. Even Jimmy got into the fad.
"Hey, Jimmy, Kev!" Annie came up with an idea. "How about we go around the town after school and teach everyone about the importance of Stan in our lives?"
"W-wow, what a terrific idea, Annie."
"I guess that could work," agreed Kevin.
"We have to try," the girl smiled. "An you guys will all help us, right, Tweek?" she added, pulling Tweek's hair. The coffee shop's owner's son shrieked as much out of panic as out of pain. Their classmates looked at one another worriedly.
"Yeah! Sure! Gah!" Tweek jittered. "Whatever you say! Aargh! Just leave me alone!"
"You've gotta be kidding me!" Stan closed his eyes in frustration. He was now sure that he was surrounded by idiots. He expected the events to go somewhere horribly wrong and he wanted no part of it. He was fed up with always getting into situations like that. "You guys are retarded, I'm playing X-box," he told the class, stood up, walked out of the classroom and slammed the door.
The children all looked at one another awkwardly. After a moment of silence Mr. Garrison raised his eyes from his desk.
"Say, was that the door?" the teacher asked.
"Now, Stanley, I told you what would happen if you created your own cult?" Sharon scolded her son.
Stan was standing (no pun intended) in his room, ready for the usual lecture from his mother. The curtains were shut and the windows closed, but you could still hear the crowd cheering outside for him. Of course Kevin and Esther had shown to be... a little obsessive about him, but he didn't expect them to start a whole new religion basing on their obsession. He peeked through the curtains and saw Cartman sitting behind a table which had mysteriously appeared on their lawn. He was selling Stanley Marsh T-shirts! Fucking fatass, he always had to make business out of everything...
"Pay attention when I'm talking to you, Stanley!"
"Sorry, mom," Stan looked back at his mother. "It's just that I didn't create this cult, my friends did!"
"Now, Stanley," Sharon put on her understanding-motherly face. "I know that being ten must be difficult for you. You must feel that you don't get enough attention from us and you turn to mass media for help. But you must realise that if you do something like that, you will just end up masturbating in San Diego again. Now we don't want to repeat that again, do we, Stanley?"
"I guess not." Why did she have to bring back the most humiliating things in his life, thought Stan. "But you must understand that this time, it wasn't my fault!"
"I'm sorry, Stanley, but I must tell your friends to go away."
"But they're not my friends!"
"Shh!"
Stan decided to be quiet and watch her mother open the window carefully. When she drew the curtains, she was immediately greeted by the crowd calling her the messiah's mother. Sharon couldn't help but feel a bit proud, but she didn't let herself be carried away and quickly regained her composure. Stan could vaguely hear Kenny McCormick's muffled voice telling her mother to "show her tits". He hoped she hadn't heard it.
"Now, listen, people!" Sharon started. "I would like you all to leave my son alone. He's not the messiah, he's a very naughty boy and I won't let you stalk him!"
"Excuse me," called out a voice Stan could recognise as belonging to his school councillor, Mr. Mackey. "If it's not personal, are you a virgin, m'kay?"
"Now stop that, stop that!" she said sternly. "We're not having a Life of Brian rehash here! Look, people, don't you see it? It's fine if someone in your life inspires you, but it doesn't mean you have to live your life praising them! You can't take your obsessions to the extreme. That's what my husband does, and believe me, it is usually extremely difficult to clean up afterwards..." She lost her focus for a while, but woke up after a moment. "Where was I? Oh. Anyway, if you focus just on one person, you might end up being obsessive and judgemental. What you should do is find inspiration in other people, not only my son!
There was a moment of silence. The townspeople needed a moment to take it all in. Stan decided he needed to thank his mother. Maybe adults weren't so useless after all, he thought.
"You know, she's right," admitted Stephen Stotch, Butters's father "I mean, we're grown up people, what are we doing, stalking some ten-year-old boy? Butters, why did you tell your father about this cult?" he pointed a finger at his son. "You're grounded, mister!"
"Aw, hamburgers," Butters rubbed his hands together.
"Now I see it!" smiled Red. "We shouldn't make Stan the designated role model, we should find good in all sorts of people and base on them!"
"Totally!" agreed Bradley Biggle, her alien superhero classmate. He looked around and spotted someone interesting. "Hey, how about Kenny? Why do you think he wears that orange hood all the time?"
"Huh?" Kenny raised his eyebrow. This couldn't be good.
"Hey, yeah! He's kinda mysterious. We could make him our new messiah!" decided Clyde.
"Or rather we could, if he weren't running away just now," deadpanned Craig, his forehead and leg bandaged after his fight with Kevin and Annie.
"What?"
The children glanced at the street. Kenny was indeed running away through the Avenue Des Los Mexicanos. Clyde commanded his classmates to follow him, they needed a messiah, naturally. Unfortunately the poor boy had been run over by a van before they were given such a chance. Various parts of his body were rolling all over the place.
"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Token. "They killed Kenny!"
"Ugh! You bastards!" shouted Tweek at the van's driver.
Poor Kenny, Clyde thought. He even didn't get to be their messiah. Unless...
"Hey, but that means Kenny died for our sins!" the brown-haired boy said with a smile. "He is our messiah after all!"
"So that means his body parts are now relics!" Heidi returned the smile, picking up Kenny's arm. "Let's take all this back home and start a new cult!"
"Yaaay!"
The children cheered and started picking up Kenny's limbs. It was just another day in the quiet, little, white-bread, redneck, mountain town of South Park.