A/N: Okay, so in hopes of attracting more people to this story, I have posted the next chapter. They are short, but that's because these are more of introductory pages. I might have a couple of these if I'm going to focus on that person for a while in the plot. I really, really, truly encourage you to review this. For shiz.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, seeing as how that's pretty extreme for someone who's only in high school. I do not own the book Pretty Things - which is where the quote at the beginning is from - Sarra Manning Does. Sadly, I don't own Converse... It would be pretty awesome if I did though. I don't own DC either. Yes, yes, Georgie is from Stephen King's IT. He was Big Bill's younger brother - the first to be killed that feeding session. I love that book. Which, coming after that sentence makes me seem like a total sicko, but Que Será, Será.


When the World Comes Down…

A South Park Tale.

Chapter Two

"Now, sweetie, no need to be alarmed, nothing to worry about, but that would be my penis."

Approximately ten minutes and fifty-three seconds after the sweet Marsh sibling tête-à-tête, the second of our ever-favorite quartet was finishing his healthy helping of scrambled eggs. Kyle Broflovski's mind was elsewhere though, as he pissed about how many teachers would misspell his name this year…

As the ginger stood up from the crowded kitchen table – cluttered with plates of eggs, waffles, pancakes, hash browns, orange juice, turkey slices, coffee, and several pages of the daily paper – the sophomore looked over at his adopted brother, Ike, who was busy prattling away excitedly about how he was going to ask Mrs. Garrison to set him a desk next to his latest friend, Georgie. This left Kyle to wonder what kind of a person Georgie was and why anyone would want to still be called Georgie when in the fifth grade.

The Jew chuckled the whole way up the stairs at the thought that it might be the Georgie from that one geeky horror about the clown that ate children. He barely paused mid ascent as he had a dull, been-said-a-million-times thought, 'In South Park anything can happen.'

When he reached his room, he checked his watch to see if he would have time for a few pages of Pretty Things before he headed out to wait at the bus stop. Unfortunately he only had about ten minutes – far too short a time for him to really get into the soap lathered plot that filled the pages of the girly book – so he grabbed his messenger bag and shoved open his closet to find his favorite pair of Chuck's. While doing so, he happened to glance at the dusty shoebox near the back of the medium sized invert and scoffed at the thought of the pair of DC's laying inside gathering dust and a rank smell. For Kyle Broflovski has an innate hatred for thick, fat, skate shoes. He thought his mother knew him well enough to know that.

After sitting there for about two thirds of his ten minutes, mentally tearing up the shoes and burning them, Kyle was rushing out of his room growling about the misplacement of his beloved Converse. He had to settle for the high tops that Stan had gotten him back when he absolutely loved that breed of Converse shoe. Now he found them to be completely annoying – what with trying to get them on and trying to get them off without spending a half hour of his OCD-run time lacing them exactly right. All the same, it still made him smile at the thought of his feet saying 'explicit content' like he was some sort of really awesome R rated movie – the kind with lots of sex and violence.

"Kyle, my bachor! Why are you going so quickly? You're leaving without saying goodbye! Did your friends tell you that you're uncool for adoring your mother? They tell you that you shouldn't kiss your dear sweet mother? I don't want you hanging with those boys anymore, you hear me?" The infamous Sheila Broflovski has struck again.

Kyle looked down at his mother who he had outgrown – both in height and patience – and said, "Mom, I do love you, but my friends have had no terrible influence on me. I do it to myself." His voice sounded stern, but he smiled sweetly at the stout, dramatic woman. Finding that substantial enough, the crafty teen adjusted his glasses, kissed her on the cheek, and stepped passed her and down the stairs.

Upon reaching the door, he shrieked as he saw Ike walking out in his shoes. Kyle was about the tackle the boy when Ike gave him a wink and shot out the door to get a head start towards the bus stop. 'That's okay,' Kyle thought, 'with all my training in track, I can catch up with and beat the crap out of him, yes yes.' With that he dashed out the front door, wondering how a boy six years younger than him could possibly be comfortable in size ten shoes.


Sok~Munki: Okay, so I like this chapter for many little reasons - like the whole R rated movie thing. Call me vain, but I love my writing - most of it.

Please, for the love of all that makes this world go round, review this if you were so kind as to read it.

Oh yes, I know that Sheila doesn't normally call her son 'bachor' but I wasn't sure how to spell what she normally calls him. It sounds like bubela, but I doubt that's how to spell it.

Kyle with glasses = hawt.