Now I've found this challenge called the 100 Theme Challenge. I picked the "Emotion" List. I am going to write the bulk, if not all of the emotions, as fanfics of SP. Not all will be the same character, though. This first one is actually number 100, Death. Who would be better to write this than Kenny McCormick? So here you go.

Being crushed to death. Being choked to death. Drowning. Bleeding out. Naturally dying. Shot in the head. No matter how I died, it always fucking hurt.

Going to Heaven. Going to Hell. Stuck in Limbo. Never the same twice. Sometimes I'm surrounded by hot women. Sometimes by demons. And once, by gay men. Like I said, never the same twice.

But my most painful death was not one I can truly remember. If I think about it, I die. Simply put. How does death feel, you ask? Why, you came to the right fucking person. It was only yesterday that I died. It was a simple, quick death, but painful all the same.

I was walking with my new group. I had dropped being in Cartman's group since they had lied to me my whole life. See, the thing is, I believed no one remembered me dying but they found a sick way of amusing themselves. They knew that I died constantly and never told me. But one day, Craig and his gang told me how everyone did know. Now I hang out with them.

Tweek was being the normal spas he was, yelling about government conspiracies and all that shit. Craig was trying to get him to shut up, having not had much sleep last night and seriously getting annoyed. Clyde and Token seemed oblivious to it. Normal day, right?

Then this fine-and I mean smoking hot-bitch decides to walk on past. Me, being the delious man whore I am-and I'm proud of it, mind you-I decided to ditch the dudes and try to get some action. So she's got this flowing brunette hair that perfectly framed that fine rack of hers. I mean, there was no way you could not look at them. Even Big Gay Al would get hard from these.

I easily persuaded her to let me have some fun in a hotel room. Turns out, she was a whore as well. Score. When we get to the hotel, we head to a room she already had reserved. Now we get in there and there's this fucking fat ass sitting on the bed eating some sort of chips. This dude was hardcore fat ass; he was bigger than Cartman. It's hard to out do mother fucking CARTMAN!

So of course I look over to my new bitch with a look that says 'what the hell?'. Now let me explain the situation. You are with a smoking hot girl with plans of banging her on your way to a hotel room. When you get into the hotel room, however, there's a fucking fat ass. Now this fat ass is easily over 400 pounds and only in his boxers which are suffocating his junk. I know because he's hard from whatever he's watching. And you know what he's watching? Fucking Barney the Dinosaur. Not a pretty sight.

"Oh, you didn't think you would be the only one on me tonight, did you?" She smiled at me, touching one finger to my nose. Ok, she out whored me... big time... Her voice attracts the attention of the fat ass. He turns and smiles at me, his teeth full of chips and obviously not brushed for a long time.

Now here's where it gets good. She sits on the bed and takes off her shoes. I'm still standing at the door, mindblown. "Well, are we getting to it or not?" She asks me, narrowing her eyes as she places her purse on the bedside table. I nod slightly. I drag myself over to the bed with exetreme difficulty. This was not happening. The fat ass continues to sit at the foot of the bed, saying that he's getting ready. By that, it means that he wants us to start so he can get hard and then join us.

That plan is good with me. So here I am with this fine bitch, making out. My pants are already off and her shirts off. I'm glad her eyes are closed because I can't stop looking at her melons. They are just fabulous. I start to take her pants off when I noticed something I didn't like. This was no girl. It was a transvestite. To make matters worse, that's when the fat ass finds that's when he should climb onto my back. I'm suffocated because my only way of breathing is now plastered in between the biggest rack I've ever seen. I would have been okay with it if they didn't belong to a guy and there was a gay fat ass, fucking me in the ass.

So, yes kids. That's what death feels like. You didn't think I was describing how I died, did you? To recap, dying starts out like any normal day. Something good seems to happen. Then some event shows you otherwise. Then you are left there, dying, thinking that there's one good thing between the millions of bad things. That is what dying is like.

So there it was. I have a few others typed up already, but only about three more. This challenge is really fun and you should try it.

This story is and always will be finished. Do not follow this story, please. You can still favorite and review, but following is definitely not the way to go. Thanks for reading,

Shadow_Right