-1Oh and if you haven't guessed by now, any racist views expressed by the characters (namely Cartman) are not the views of the author (who, by the way, is not Cartman)
I hadn't even gotten through my seventh bag of Cheesy Poofs before someone knocked on the door. Groaning, I tossed the bag off to the side and answered it. I was surprised to see a certain missing Broflowski staring pointedly at me. "You know," I said, "Your mother is looking for you." He walked inside the house, brushing past me. I closed the door and Kyle swung around glaring at me. "Well, Cartman?!"
"Well what?" Kyle's eyes shot daggers at me, "You almost got me to believe that I was evil, that my entire people were evil, just because of some psycho's movie!" I smirked, was I actually hearing this? "Yeah, Mel Gibson turned out to be a crazy asshole, so what? That doesn't mean his movie was historically inaccurate. Ask any historian Kahl, they'll tell you the same thing, the Jews killed Jesus."
"That isn't true fatass!"
"Look it up, Kahl. The whole world isn't Anti-Semitic, Kahl. The authors of the history books and the historians have no reason to lie. Maybe the Jews didn't directly kill Jesus, but they were responsible." He faltered, causing me to smirk. I started to usher him out of my house, "Go on Kahl, go back home to your bitch mother. Go home and look it up. Oh, and Kahl?"
"What?"
"I'm not fat, I'm big-boned." I said, and shut the door when he stepped outside. "God damned Jew, if he calls me fat one more time, I swear to God…" I let my threat hang.
The next day was a Monday (ugh), and I went to wait for the bus. Kenny was the only one there. I was used to Stan being late, but usually the Jew was here by now. "Where's Kahl?" Kenny shrugged, "I don't know, maybe he slept in." Eh, like I even cared. "Man, Mondays are the worst." I said, a statement to which Kenny eagerly agreed to. Stan came running up, panting from running so fast. "Oh good… the bus isn't here yet." He said. "Dude, where's Kyle?" Kenny asked. "He called me last night, said he wasn't coming in. Didn't say why though." He answered as the bus pulled up. They clambered on reluctantly. "Did he sound sick?" Kenny asked. Stan just shrugged. "Well I for one couldn't give half a rat's ass. Half a Jew-Rat's ass." I chuckled at my joke, the others didn't even crack a smile. Those two, I swear, they have the worst sense of humor ever.
"BRIING!" The phone screamed at me. "Jesus." I said, rubbing the sleep from eyes so I could see the clock. "Arg! Who the hell is calling me at three A.M.?" I picked up the phone, "You know what time it is asshole?!"
"Stan?" I blinked in surprise, "Kahl, what the fuck? This is Cartman, Jew-Rat."
"Dang it all!" He said, and hung up, "The hell?" I said, before shrugging it off and going back to sleep.
I yawned, stretching out my arms to inconspicuously whack Kenny over the head. He punched my arm in retaliation, "Ow! Kenneh that hurt! That's a bad Kenneh!" He just laughed… bastard. "Man, Tuesdays are the worst." I said. Kenny sighed, "That is what you said yesterday, about Mondays." He said. "Yes, Kenneh, and that is what I will say tomorrow, about Wednesdays. And the next day, about Thursdays. But not the next day, because Fridays are cool."
"Whatever dude. Hey, you know what's weird? Kyle called me around three A.M. this morning looking for Stan. What's up with that?"
"I know, me too. Since when does he forget his faggy friend's number?" Kenny shrugged, "Do you know if he's making it to school today?"
"I don't know. I don't keep tabs on the damned Jew." Kenny rolled his eyes. Stan came running up to the bus stop. "Dude, why are you always so late?" Kenny asked, "Huh, what?" Stan said, trying in vain to stifle a yawn. "Guess that answers that question." I said dully. "Hey, your boyfriend call you last night?" Stan scratched his stomach lazily, he was so used to my age-old quip that he hardly missed a beat before answering: "No, why?"
"So, he called Kenny and I, but not you, the guy he was actually trying to reach? How does that make sense?"
"What? He called you guys last night trying to reach me? Strange." Stan said. The bus pulled up, "Guess Kahl isn't coming." I said, boarding the bus. "I'm kind of concerned about him." Stan said. "Yeah, that's a shocker, you concerned about your boyfriend? Gasp!" Stan rolled his eyes. "I worried about him too, though." Kenny said. Oh great, here we go. "Well, I'm not. Personally, I don't give a crap what he gets himself into." I said, contemptuous. "Well, duh, since when have you cared about anything other than yourself?"
"Shut up, Clyde! We're not talking to you!" I said, as Kenny snickered. I swear to God kid'll laugh at anything. He must, if he can laugh at those accursed Rob Snyder movies. "Do you think he's sick?" Asked Stan. "Makes sense, why else would he have been so disoriented last night?"
"Yeah, and why else would that bitch let him stay home?" I said. "I don't really think Mrs. Broflowski is that much of a bitch, she's just concerned."
"Clyde, you don't even know what we're talking about!" I yelled at him. The idiot always does this. He's so desperate, God. "I think we should call him." Kenny said. "I think we should go over to his house." Stan suggested. "I think we shouldn't care." I growled. "Well, I think we should give him some air."
"…GOD DAMN IT!"
"Ah, another day without the Jew, I could get used to this." I said, plopping down on the couch, only to have to get back up again when the phone rang, "I swear to God that phone is hooked to a trigger in the couch." I answered the phone, "What?"
"What did you do to my bubalah?!" Yikes, bitchzilla is on overdrive tonight. "I didn't do anything." I growled. "He's depressed! He hardly eats! He won't sleep!"
"And you think I have something to do with this, why?"
"It's always your fault! No matter what's wrong with Kyle, it's always has something to do with you!"
"Thank you for your comments andor complaint, I'll be happy to patch you through to your dial tone now, if you would just wait a few seconds."
"NO!"
"Whoa-ho. Calm down." Crazy bitch, blew out my eardrums. "I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! AND YOU WILL NOT HANG UP! NOT UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!" I would have hung up right then and there if I wasn't so shocked. Another voice appeared in the background, Kyle's, but I couldn't tell what he was saying, "But Kyle," Mrs. Broflowski (who will now officially be forever be referred to as Extremely Loud Bitch, in my mind) argued. "What?" I asked, and the line went dead.
