South Park © Matt & Trey.
Thanks for nice feedback :) R&R ~
Once I arrive at Shakey's Pizza, I greet Eric who looks like he's in the middle of yelling at a new employee. "Yo, lard-ass!" I wave, loosening the drawstrings of my hood.
"I thought I smelled piss, but it's just the poor boy," he says, turning towards me.
"You're funny as ever."
"You know it." He shifts his gaze back to the kid, "Get back to work." The kid nods, looking relieved and petrified at the same time. Hah.
"So, poor boy," Eric says, "What's up?"
"The usual," I shove my hands on my pockets, "And dude, I'm not even that poor anymore."
It's true. I got my shit together after moving out of my parents' house… Well, I got some of my shit together… Well, okay, fine, I don't really have any of my shit together… but I do have an okay amount of money at least.
"Kinny, you'll always be a poor bastard to me."
"Don't call me a bastard," I frown. Honestly, that is one of the few insults that packs a punch for me. Dad calls me a bastard sometimes. I grew up hearing it. I'm not sure if he really thinks I am a bastard, or if he is just calling me one for the sake of it.
Ah, well…
"Whatever," Eric snorts.
I guess it's just like this with him. Love-hate. He's got my back, though, and I know it. He's proved it more than once… But that's a story for later.
"So," I start, "Did you hear about Kyle?"
He gives me a look, "No. What about the Jew? I haven't seen that fag in years. Did he die or something?"
"What? No! He's coming back here," I say.
"You're seriously?"
I snicker, "Yes, I'm seriously."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Stan told me yesterday. Apparently he'll be teaching at the high school."
"It'll be fucking weird," Eric says.
"I know," I shrug, "that's what I was thinking, too."
"Why would he wanna go back there?" he asks. "I think that place sucked the life out of all of us."
I chuckle, "Yeah. Kyle got just as much shit as every other kid there. Stan once told me he was a professor at a fancy-ass university in New York. I don't know why he'd want to teach at some shitty high school here rather than a place like that."
"Different folks, different strokes."
"I guess that's true," I agree. "So how's Red?"
"Fine," he says.
He doesn't really ever talk about his relationship with Rebecca. He's pretty closed up about it, as if it's all a big secret. I bet he's secretly a softie and doesn't want it getting out… Well, probably not.
"That's good."
"Yeah," he shrugs. "So, Kinny, why are you here? Did Craig kick you out again?"
"I offered to leave," I say defensively.
"Why? You live there too, don't yah? You help pay the bills?"
"It's weird being there while the two of them are having alone time."
"Right," Eric makes a face, "I always forget those two are an item… So fuckin' weird."
"They've been together since we were young."
"Do you think I really pay that much attention to Craig the fag and his schizoid?"
"Point taken," I laugh.
Craig the fag… that's a good one.
"So, you gonna loiter around here all night?"
I shrug. "Nothing better to do."
"Come on then," Eric says, giving me a hard slap on the back and causing me to lurch forward. "Let's go get a drink."
"Don't you want to keep an eye on the newbies here?"
"They'll never learn with me up their asses all the fuckin' time."
"True enough."
Eric digs his car keys out of his pocket as we make our way out of Shakey's. I'm glad he has a car. It's cold enough when the sun is up, but when the sun goes down it's fucking freezing. Plus, it's snowing again. Yeah, summer is definitely dead and there is still another month of break left.
"We're having a fucking gorgeous winter this summer," Eric grumbles sarcastically, voicing my thoughts.
I snicker, "Yeah, it's tropical."
He snorts as we settle in his car. "Try not to make it smell like piss in here."
"Fuck off, man."
He just shoots me an annoying and peevish smile, pulling out of the parking lot.
It only takes a few minutes to get to the pub, but if we had to walk it'd probably take a fuck of a lot longer.
Inside the bar, my dad's sitting with Skeeter and Randy Marsh. They all look pretty shit-faced, so they don't notice us walk in.
Skeeter is the most ignorant fucker I've ever met, and no offence to Stan, but Randy is just plain retarded. Hell, my old man is no better than either of them, but he's my dad after all. I can't talk too much shit, he did raise me. And sure, he could've done a better job… but who am I to talk? I'd probably fuck up a kid worse than that.
I guess Stan's off tonight, because I don't see him behind the counter. That's probably for the best. He gets beyond humiliated when his dad is drunk. I don't blame him and neither would anyone who has seen Randy Marsh after a few too many beers.
I take a seat at a booth at the opposite end of the room while Eric gets our drinks. I told him to get whatever, because fuck it. I'll drink anything.
"Do you ever feel like we're getting really damn old?" Eric asks once he returns and hands me my drink.
"Yeah," I laugh, taking a long sip, "But then I remember that we're only twenty-five."
"Did you ever think you'd be doin' more with your life than just this?"
"I don't know. Probably not," I admit. "When I was young, I mean really young, I wanted life to take me somewhere more thrilling than the end of another boring day and another boring death. I always ended up dying and missing the best part of the adventure."
"Yeah."
"I wanted to be like fuckin' Midas, and have everything I touched turn to gold. People told me that was aiming pretty damn high, and I said it was good to aim high. I don't know if I actually believed any of the shit that came out of my mouth, though." I laugh, remembering my young self.
Eric laughs, too. But mostly in a way that says he thinks I'm an idiot. I guess I kind of am.
"What about you? Did you ever think you'd be doing more?" I ask.
"Not really."
"I think it suits us," I say. "I mean, you gotta do what you love, right? Some of us just aren't interested in the kind of shit that Kyle was."
"Fucking amen to that."
I take another long chug.
I remember when I started drinking. I was twelve. I was pretty good at hiding it, but I ended up slipping up. It was inevitable. I never did listen to Kyle's constant warnings to "stay hydrated".
My parents were disappointed. They even said it. I think they were under the assumption that I was going to be better than them. I guess they don't understand how a child's mind works. I grew up watching them, thinking the things they did were okay. If you say one thing and do another, then your kids will probably follow in your steps either way. Monkey see, monkey do. Isn't that right?
I was fourteen the first time I slipped up. I remember when my parents came home I was lying naked on the cold bathroom tiles. I had spent most of the night getting sick in the toilet bowl and then deciding to go ahead and rest on the tiles, because they were cold and my body felt far too hot.
I got drunk out of my mind in the back of a lame all-ages club and took something that was given to me. Not my most brilliant moment. I lost Craig and had to make new friends.
I don't remember everything that happened after that, but I'm sure it wasn't anything to be proud of and these new friends weren't so friendly after all.
I thought I'd be awake by the time my parents got home but I wasn't. It's as if time passes much faster when you are intoxicated. My mom was speaking to my dad. Her replies were short, as if she wasn't really listening to what he was saying. I know that she probably wasn't.
The voices and footsteps grew closer and I tried to collect myself but I couldn't lift a damn muscle.
"Kenny?" they called, probably after noticing I wasn't in my room. "You home?"
I let out a groan. I was scared of being found out. I was scared what they would say to me. I think I was shaking at the time, but I don't really remember.
My mom almost bawled when she seen me and shied away from the state I was in.
"Kenny?" my dad gaped.
I rolled over to face the other way; I didn't want them to see me like that. My dad threw a towel over my body and yelled. Kevin came to see what was going on. He probably thought it was a riot.
"You've disappointed us," my dad said before walking out of the room.
I tried to say some sort of apology, but I think what came out of my mouth probably sound like gurgled nonsense. If I had been a little less drunk I probably would've retorted, "Well you guys disappoint me all the fucking time."
They left me in the bathroom, but I don't really blame them. I wouldn't have wanted to touch me either.
Not a thing was said about it in the morning. If they did say something, it would've been hypocritical. They couldn't ground me or punish me. I knew it, and they knew it.
Kevin laughed at me for it later, while Karen just looked sad. I think she wanted me to be better than Kevin and because of that, I only ended up disappointing her even worse. That's when we began to drift apart. She stopped coming to me with her problems, and I stopped checking on her before she went to sleep. To her, I was just like our shitty parents and shitty brother.
Kevin has always been a lot worse than me, though I suppose, in the end, we're both just like our father. The three of us are all stupid, violent drunks who hurt all the people we care about.
It seems like so long ago that happened.
After that, it just became normal for me to return home drunk or get stoned in my bedroom. It just became normal for me to bring strangers into my room and let them do what they wanted with me. I knew my parents wanted better for me, but it just wasn't going to happen that way.
Still, I never touched the hard stuff.
I just sell it.
I don't think my parents wanted me to, but I insisted I was cool with it so they eventually relented. I think they assumed that if I didn't deal through them, I'd go elsewhere and they'd rather keep tabs on me.
It's late when I leave the bar. I had another drink after Eric ditched, but fortunately, I'm still sober for the most part. If I wasn't, then I'd probably be unconscious somewhere or in the midst of yet another bar fight. My track record is pretty bad lately and it's only getting worse. Maybe I even would've ended up in my dad's face yelling hate words at him… that would have been a mess. Stan has called me out on my shit a few times, but I just tell him to shove it up his ass.
Ah…
I have a feeling I should've left with Eric because it is seriously fucking cold out here. Shivering, I tighten the drawstrings on my hood and put my gloves on. It's still fucking snowing. I'm beginning to really hate the snow.
"Kenny?" I hear a voice behind me ask as I walk past Stan's neighbourhood, "Is that you?"
And somehow, the soft and gravelly voice sounds a tiny bit familiar.
I spin around find myself standing in front of a pale man, but the first thing I notice is the curly, red hair framing his face.
"Kyle?"
