Author's Note: *Sigh*, I suppose I should state the disclaimer now, even though it's pretty obvious. I own none of South Park, its characters, or anything related to it. Trey Parker and Matt Stone do, the lucky bastards. Anyway, without further ado, here is my first chapter.
The Forgotten
Chapter 1
Most of them didn't see it coming. There they would be, going about their business on a day that seemed to be completely normal in every conceivable way. But then wham! There they were in some endless limbo, stumbling around mindlessly in a state of utter confusion, never given any information as to where they are or what was going on. Sometimes, though, they would come across someone else walking around the cold and empty space. However, neither of the two hapless souls knew what the buttery fuck pies was going on.
There was, of course, a reason for this. You see, in the world of South Park, sometimes a character will mysteriously disappear for a long time. And sometimes, they don't come back. After a certain period of inactivity from this one particular character, they are labeled as Forgotten and whisked away to the dreaded limbo.
The population of the limbo included Big Gay Al, Mr. Slave, Towelie, Dr. Mephesto and Kevin, Skeeter, Dougie (Or, as he is better known, General Disarray), God, Mr. Hat, Santa Claus, and Satan.
But limbo was about to see some new Forgotten. The names of these particular characters may surprise you. They came all at once, stumbling bewildered around the vast, monochromatic landscape.
"What the hell is going on?" said Eric Cartman, the very first to pipe up. "Does it look like any of us know, fat-ass?" Kyle stated irritably. "I didn't ask you, you stupid Jew!" Cartman retorted.
"Don't start fighting, you guys. We just got here." Stan said, trying to keep the peace between the two. "You're right. We have to figure out where we are." Kyle replied, cooling down a bit.
"H-hey fellas? I think I found somethin'." came the voice of Butters. "What is it?" Stan asked, as they rushed over to where Butters was standing.
"Is that…" Stan began. "A joint?" Kyle interrupted. "What the fuck is a joint doing in limbo?" Cartman asked, though to no one in particular.
"That's not what we should be worrying about right now. We SHOULD be worrying about getting home!" Kyle said, in the normal, irritated tone he took when dealing with Cartman.
"Well, the fact that there's a joint here proves that there must be someone else in limbo. Maybe they know what's going on." Stan pointed out.
"F-fellas, there's something else up here. M-maybe it's another joint." Butters said, about 10 feet away. The boys rushed over to his location.
The next ten minutes or so were rather uneventful, just following the trail of fallen joints. But I will tell you that after these rather boring ten minutes had passed, the boys came across the aforementioned Forgotten all sitting in a circle. The joints, of course, came from Towelie.
"Hey, um, sorry to disturb you, but… do you know what's going on here?" Stan asked the slumped figures. "Ah, fresh meat," replied one of them, which happened to be Dr. Mephesto. He grinned a bit and turned to face the boys. "I suppose I should start with—wait, you?!" Dr. Mephesto shook his head a bit, not fully comprehending the identities of the 4 boys in front of him at this very moment. More heads turned to face the boys (except Towelie, of course), more shocked expressions, more confused whispers.
"Yes. Us. Why is that a surprise?" Cartman asked Mephesto. "Well—it's just that… Okay, let me start from the beginning," Mephesto replied (or, rather, ATTEMPTED to reply), rubbing his temples and breathing deeply before he continued.
"You see, boys, a lot of weird things happen in our town, the town of South Park. And a lot of people get involved in these happenings. Sometimes, they only get involved once or twice. But once they are part of the action a third time, they are bound to the weirdness by 'semi-regularity'. If they are a part of the incidents more than ten times, they are further bound to them by 'regularity'. People who are 'regular' are much more at risk to getting in our… situation than those labeled only 'semi-regular'. So to keep… this from happening, they are subconsciously drawn to these events by whatever means necessary, as is the case with you. But I don't understand it; you should have been set for another 10 happenings. You've come too early; there must be another reason for this…
"I'm sorry; I got a bit off-track there. Anyway, sometimes the 'regulars' or the 'semi-regulars' will not be involved in an incident for a long time. When this happens, we are brought to limbo by some higher power," Mephesto paused to glare at God, saying the next part in his direction. "Who has complete control over the entire FUCKING world and every single one of its inhabitants."
"Hey, I had nothing to do with this. The fact that I'm here proves that." God said defensively. Mephesto nodded his head, still somewhat unconvinced. He then turned back towards the boys and began speaking again. "And we are never seen again. We call ourselves 'The Forgotten', because that's what we are. No-one seems to notice that we're gone. Do you understand?"
"Kind of, but one question: How do you know about all this? I mean, about 'regularity' and what people think—or rather DON'T think—of your disappearance?" Kyle asked. "It's simple. Whoever put us here talks to God, and God talks to us." Skeeter said.
"S-so basically, God t-talks to God?" said Butters, for the first time since he found the second joint. "Yup." Skeeter replied. "It's true," God said. "I speak to the HIGHER higher power."
"But what doesn't make sense to ME, and ALL of us, for that matter," Dr. Mephesto said once more, gesturing towards the boys with his posterior-staff-thing. "Is YOUR presence here. You've been to a lot of these incidents recently."
The five boys looked knowingly into each other's faces, clearly stifling laughter. It became harder and harder for them to do so until, at last, they couldn't control it anymore. They just let out a few muffled giggles and half-chuckles at first, gradually ascending to the type of laughter that causes you to lose your balance and, eventually, your ability to breathe. Eventually, Kyle regained his composure just enough to say "No, not US, dude. Not US. WE weren't there." before dropping to the ground once more. Mephesto looked immensely confused, as did the rest of the Forgotten.
"I'm afraid I don't understand." Dr. Mephesto replied. Eventually, the boys stopped for long enough to piece together their common thought.
"Dude," began Cartman, still shaking a bit. "Why would WE act like that? Why would I become best buddies with the Jew-fag? And, more importantly, why would I become a Jew myself? It doesn't make sense!" As Cartman said this, Kyle looked agitated, but remained silent.
"And why would I repeatedly sell out my friends for fame, fortune, or iPod nanos? THAT," Stan said, becoming a bit more passionate towards the end. "Is what doesn't make sense."
"And going back to what fat-ass said: why would we become friends? We're complete fucking polar opposites!" Kyle added.
"A-and how I been actin' lately, w-well it just isn't me. Bein' all mean to grandma… and everyone else, f-for that matter. I deserve a good groundin', for all the things I've done." Said Butters. "So, you see, it wasn't us, Dr. Mephesto. Those people are imposters." Said Stan, wrapping up their story.
"I understand." Dr. Mephesto said. "Should we tell them about—" Satan began, but was cut off by Dr. Mephesto.
"I know you're anxious to get to that, Satan. But I think it's best if I explain it to the children." "What would that be?" Mr. Slave asked, almost certain of what Mephesto was going to say, but not quite. Mephesto said nothing, but gave Mr. Slave a look that reinforced what they already knew. "Children," Mephesto began, looking very sympathetic. "I need to tell you about fan fictions."
"Fan fictions? What are those?" Cartman asked. Dr. Mephesto sighed before continuing.
"You see, sometimes a copy of us is put into the hands of another creator. They manipulate these copies of us into their own twisted image, often having the copies do horrible, uncharacteristic, and often quite… erm… inappropriate things. And the worst part is this: You are forced to watch EVERY SECOND of it. It's quite horrible."
"How will they force us to watch it?" Stan asked. Suddenly, he felt a light, steady tug from behind, which gradually increased in strength. He looked behind himself, expecting to see a rope or similar object.
Well, there was a rope, in a sense. It seemed that his very essence was being pulled back, causing an insubstantial, almost ghostly brown-red tendril to form behind him, which was growing in length and width as more and more of him was pulled away. He looked around, noticing that his friends were suffering a similar fate. He caught a final terrified look from Butters before he was completely pulled from the ground, rocketing upward and backward at an alarming speed. He watched as The Forgotten quickly disappeared into the whiteness as he traveled to a location unknown. He attempted to kick free, but he saw that his legs no longer existed. Nor did his arms. Nor did anything else. He was simply a floating consciousness in an infinite sea of white. At last, he accepted the fact that he did not know where he was, or where he was going.
And, at that point, he didn't care about either.