"I Got Rhythm, I Got Issues"
A story based on "South Park,"
Created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone
Written by Snodin
ACT II: "Once Bitten, Twice Shy"
*
South Park Cemetery, the next day.
It was a beautiful, partly cloudy day, and some of the gravestones glistened in the sunlight. But none moreso than the one placed in the center of the cemetery, the one belonging to Jerome "Chef" McElroy. This grave had many visitors on a daily basis, but on this particular day, only one would show up. And that was Eric Cartman.
The small chubby boy waddled up to the grave of his former mentor carrying a bouquet of red roses, and though Cartman wasn't known for his sentiments, he clearly was donning a sincere frown at this moment.
"…Hey, Chef," he said somberly, facing the large gravestone. "It's me, Eric. I seem to be the only one that remembers you; those other gahs are now hanging out with the new school chef. But you would agree with me when I say that he's just a poor-ass whitey version of you. He doesn't even break into song, that cheap bastard! …Anyway, I just wanted you to know that there's at least one person around here who still misses you. Here, I got you these flowers. Some John came over to my house to leave 'em for my Mahm, but I think you deserve 'em more." He then placed the roses at the grave's base, then he stepped back to fold his hands in prayer. "I hope you're up dere in Heaven now, making sweet, sweet love to all de angels. Amen."
With that, Cartman made the sign of the cross, and left the grave with a slow pace and a tear in his eye.
*
Kyle was certain that he was being followed on his way home that next afternoon. Every once in a while, he would stop halfway down the block and turn around to see, but there was nothing there. He then had no choice but to resume his walk, and once again the paranoia would come over him.
It was just as he reached his own block when his ears had confirmed the sound of little footsteps behind him. Quicker than before, he whipped himself around to see who it was that was following him. What he saw was a small pink parks darting into the alley a little too late. He recognized that parka; it belonged to the young girl named Lizzy.
Kyle's jaw dropped; he wasn't imagining things! He was definitely being followed!
"Tee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!"
Girly giggles came from all around, seemingly surrounding the poor little Jewish boy. It was the girls alright- all of them! Well, probably not Wendy, she was taken. But all the others, he was sure of it, were following his every move. He had to run. Fast. …Even past his own house, to a more safer location…
*
"I wanna make love right now-na-na
I wanna make love right now-na-na
Wish we never broke up right now-na-na
We need to link up right now-na-na…"
In his basic blue tee-shirt instead of the brown coat and mittens, Stan was practicing his dance moves to the Akon sing "Right Now" as it played on the channel MTV3 ½. Already his groove and feet-shuffling were impressive, mostly thanks to the fact that he had been watching dance videos for days now, copying every move he saw.
Ding-dong!
"Coming!" he called out, and moon-walked over to the door. As soon as he opened the door and saw Kyle behind it, he snapped back to his old self. "Oh hey, dude!"
"No time! Must hide!!" Kyle ran past Stan and jumped on the couch before Stan could even take another breath. His blue-hatted friend closed the door and calmly walked over to him. "…Dude, what's up?"
"They're following me! I know it, I could feel their eyes on me! They're like little- Dude, what the hell're you watching?"
"MTV 3 ½," replied Stan. "It's only a matter of time before they switch it to an all-reality TV channel and move the music somewhere else. I just had to brush up on my moves."
"…Why?"
"Dude, listen…" Stan's tone of voice became very serious as he turned off the television. Kyle listened intently as Stan explained, "I've been hearing rumors going around at the school, and the older students are saying that after the dance… they're gonna get some."
Kyle stared blankly at him. "………..Get some what?" he shrugged.
Stan smiled excitedly. "I dunno, but I think it has something to do with their dates! Do you know what this means, dude? If I really dance my ass off that night, maybe I'll get some with Wendy!"
"Dude," doubted Kyle, "you can't even kiss her without throwing up in her face. How're you gonna get anything with that girl?"
"It's okay, dude, I got it covered," answered Stan. "I got a cousin who's got a panic disorder, and she takes Lorazepam whenever she feels an attack coming on. All I need to do is take one of those that night, and I won't be nervous at all!"
"Lorazepam?"
"Yeah."
"…Isn't that the drug that killed Anna Nicole Smith?"
"Naw, dude, she took a whole bunch of drugs. Besides, I'm only taking this one. It won't hurt at all."
"I dunno, dude, that sounds risky."
"Well it's worth a shot anyway. …So Kyle, you mind helping me out? I mean, since you're like the hot sh*t at dancing now, maybe you could let me in on your secret. Would you, ol' buddy ol' pal?"
"My secret?"
"Come on dude, you can tell me! How did you get so good?"
"…Well… I do play DDR a lot."
"Uh-huh? …Here wait, lemmie get this down." Stan quickly took a pencil to paper and wrote aloud, "Play lots of DDR…"
"And I've watched Napoleon Dynamite about a hundred times."
Again, Stan wrote aloud, "Napoleon Dynamite… Kay?"
"And… I guess Fingerbang helped too."
"Fingerbang? …Oh yeah, that's right! I noticed you got your rhythm in control when we started that pop group! Dude, how did I miss that?"
"It's no big deal," frowned Kyle with a modest shrug.
"It is a big deal," replied Stan as he jumped onto the couch beside Kyle. "This is the one thing you can use against Cartman. Have you noticed how jealous he's become of you ever since you beat him in the dance-off?"
"…No?"
"You always wanted to get back at him for ripping on your religion. This is your big chance! You gotta use it, or else he's gonna find a way to beat you. And I know you don't want that to happen."
"…But… I told you, I can't face those girls."
"Dude, they're just like us except they got vaginas. What harm can they do?"
Ding-Dong!
"I'll get it." There are times when we regret what we say; for Stan, this was such a time. When he opened the door, he gasped at the sight of at least a dozen young girls at his door, all with the same zombie-like stare. "…Uh… C-can I help you?"
"Is Kyle there?" asked Bebe, who assumed leadership of the mob it seemed. "We already tried his house, and he's not home. So we just figured…"
"Uh, h-hold on a second." Stan left the door half open, leaving the girls outside. He hopped over to the couch where Kyle sat with fear plainly in his eyes. "…Dude. They're here."
"What?" whispered a terrified Kyle. "How many?"
"I dunno… All of them, I guess. You better hide."
"Holy crap, dude." Kyle wasted no time in jumping off the couch and running for the kitchen.
Stan had no other choice but to go back to the door and reopen it. "…Uh sorry girls, you just missed him. He-" WHAM! Stan was thrown off his feet as the girls forced their way inside, nearly trampling him. "Shout out if you see something green!" ordered Esther.
They ran into the kitchen and started throwing every door open, even the refrigerator, until Millie opened the doors under the kitchen sink. "Here he is!" she cheered, seeing that Kyle had somehow wedged himself behind the sink pipe.
"AUGH!" he screamed, as dozens of faces came toward him like rats to cheese.
Just then, Stan came running into the room with a broomstick, waving it around like a samurai weapon. "Back! Get back!!" he roared, swatting girls like flies as he advanced toward the sink. He managed to get in between Kyle's hiding spot and the zombie-like girls.
"Outta the way, Jew-lover!" growled Nelly jealously.
"Dude, he's not my boyfriend," said Stan defensively, lowering his broom.
"Oh no? Then why are you keeping him all to yourself?" asked Lizzy.
"I'm not!" Stan backed off, allowing the girls to move forward.
"Get him!" shouted Nelly again, and all at once the fan girls toppled Stan, dug into the sink, and pulled out Kyle.
As he was carried out via mosh pit, Kyle looked back at his friend furiously. "DUDE! How could you sell me out like that!?"
"I'm sorry, dude! They used their mind tricks on me!" cowered Stan in the corner.
"Remind me to kick your ass later!" shouted Kyle as his fangirls carried him outside through the back door.
*
In Stan's backyard, the girls had Kyle cornered against a wall. There, he tried to shield himself with his mittened hands. "What do you want from me??"
"We just wanna see you dance again," smiled Bebe innocently. "Just one more time. Please, Kyle?"
"Yeah. Pleeeaaaase?" cooed the other girls.
At a loss, Kyle sighed and rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. Just one."
"Hit it, Heidi!" ordered Bebe, pointing to the one girl of the group with a boombox.
Heidi, the girl with the soft brown hair and green jacket, switched the radio on to the tune "Love-Stoned," by Justin Timberlake. Kyle paused to catch the rhythm before shuffling his feet and making smooth turns to the song. The girls gathered around in a semi-circle to watch and swoon.
Nearby, the attention was caught by one Eric Cartman, as he was walking home from his visit to Chef's grave. As he watched Kyle's fan base grow all the more, he became increasingly jealous. "God dammit," he muttered before resuming his walk home.
Kyle was quick to finish his routine and gave the girls a sharp look of disinterest. "There. You happy now?"
Heidi switched off her radio and replied, "Not quite yet. We need to know which of us you're taking to the Spring Dance, hot stuff."
They all jumped up and shouted at once. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Pick me! Pick me! Please pick me!"
"I'm not going to the dance!"
"Awwww," mourned the girls in unison.
"But you have to," insisted Bebe. "Everybody loves the way you move. Don't you… like being liked?"
Kyle's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't care what everybody else thinks. If I did, then Cartman would've been dead a long time ago. And besides, I don't really know who to take with me, 'cause… well, I really don't like any of you girls… in that way, I mean."
"What about that home-schooled girl? Didn't you like her?" Bebe pointed out.
Kyle's faced seemed to flush pale at the mentioning of that "one girl." "…I… I gotta go." Without saying another word, he pushed his way out of the crowd and bounded out of the yard.
The girls glanced at each other, as if his reaction seemed to worry them.
*
The Miller residence, that evening.
Underneath the small brown house lied a very large basement, to which Mr. Mackey had gained access to thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Miller. With him going down the steps were the parents of eighth grader Victor Miller, as well as Mr. Adler the school shop class teacher, armed with a camera.
"I can assure you, Mr. Mackey," said the concerned father, "our son and his little friends had learned their lesson from last year's dance."
"M'kay, well I just need to make sure they're not hiding any liquor down here, m'kay?"
Mr. Mackey was welcomed to a stack of wooden boxes, all labeled "FRAGILE." "If Victor's hiding anything down here," said the father, "it'd be in one of these crates."
"M'kay. Uh, Mr. Adler, would you hand me the axe please?"
"Sure thing," said the short stocky man with the band-aid on his forehead, nonchalantly pulling an axe from behind his back and handing it over to the school counselor.
"Wait, what're you doing?" asked a concerned Mrs. Miller.
Taking up the axe, Mr. Mackey replied, "We need to do this quick and painless, m'kay Mrs. Miller? Uh, Mr. Adler, be ready with that camera so we can send the evidence to court. M'kay?"
"Sure thing." Mr. Adler loyally readied his large-lensed camera while the concerned parents stepped back.
Like a lumberjack, Mackey took his axe to the first large wooden box, and chipped away both wood and hay that covered the inside of it. The others watched with baited breath, as the scrawny counselor reached into the box, and pulled out… a black umbrella. Mr. Adler's lens flashed just as the umbrella opened up over a dumbfounded Mackey.
"Ah!" sighed Mr. Miller happily. "It's just our summer stuff. No worries then."
"You mean," frowned Mackey, "all of this is really just… stuff, m'kay?"
Mrs. Miller calmly replied, "We haven't seen this stuff in so long, we almost completely forgot about it! But thanks to you, we now know for certain that there's no liquor here at all."
"But… But shouldn't I open up the other boxes? M'kay? Maybe they're…"
"Aw, not to worry Mackey," assured Mr. Miller. "We'll just search our boy's room and ask around. No need to get all worked up over nothing now."
As the parents left the basement, Mr. Adler scooted over to Mackey with his camera. "You know, we could always use the picture for our school yearbook."
"Uh… No, that's m'kay," muttered a humbled Mackey, still holding up the open umbrella.
*
That same night, Kyle Broflovski fidgeted in his bed as he drifted off into a dream, one that started out nice, soft and rosy in pigment…
He saw himself sitting at the foot of a large tree atop a green hill, while butterflies danced in the air. He seemed to be having a picnic with someone, as there was a checkerboard blanket beneath him and a picnic basket nearby. He reached for an apple, when his hand met with another. He looked up, and there she was: Rebecca Cotswald.
She looked just as she did when they first met; her brunette hair was soft and curly, with bangs that seemed almost perfectly circled. Her green jacket's tint matched the flaps of his shapka's, with a purple collar. Her pants were an even lighter green, and her legs always seemed folded. Her nervous lip-biting mannerism was the same too, as was the way she would fold her trembling hands to her mouth. She looked so pure, so shy… so perfect.
When his brown eyes met with hers, Kyle seemed to have fallen under a trance. All of time stood still; everything was blurry except for Rebecca's perfect face. That face began to draw closer and closer to his own, as if beckoning for a kiss. How could he refuse? She was the girl of his dreams, after all- nobody was smarter than her, not even he himself! He closed his eyes and puckered up…
"URK!"
Kyle's eyes popped open as he found himself lifted off the ground by his chest. No, it was worse- Rebecca, whose innocent face was now smiling maniacally, had thrust her hand into his chest while he was caught off guard! There was a pause as the scene suddenly faded to red, just as Rebecca gave one hard tug and literally pulled out Kyle's heart! Kyle himself fell to the floor, blood oozing out from his underside, while Rebecca stood back and held up the heart, which was still beating! Thump-thump! Thump-thump! Thump-thump!
"Hey!" came a familiar feminine voice nearby. Rebecca turned around, and saw that a massive gathering of young girls showed up out of nowhere, led by Bebe Stevens. "That right there belongs to me!" she defiantly said, pointing to Kyle's rosy beating heart. "Give it here, bitch!"
Before she could defend herself, Rebecca was suddenly overpowered by Kyle's new fan base, all grasping for the small beating heart. "It's mine!" "It's mine!" "Give it to me!" "You're not holding it right!" "Here! Gimmie!"
Kyle, meanwhile, slowly staggered to his knees- he was still alive, but clutched onto the hole in his chest weakly. He tried to reach out and wordlessly tried to beg for his heart back. But no one would listen; no one even cared to look back at him to see if he was okay. He watched in horror, as the girls played tug-o-war with his fragile heart, until it started to get pulled out of proportion… until at last, it was ripped to pieces.
"AAAAAUUGH!" he screamed himself awake. He was suddenly back in his room, and it was dark and quiet. Panting, he paused to press his hands to his chest to see if his heart was still there. …Yes, it was, and it was okay. He sighed deeply as he laid back against his pillow.
But just as Kyle felt relaxed, a face popped up at the end of his bed!
"AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGH!!!" he screamed again, louder and more horrified than before.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" screamed Cartman, as he was taken by surprise and fell on his back.
"….CARTMAN!? WHAT THE F*CK?!" roared a now furious Kyle, as he rose to his knees to see that his intruder was the annoying fat kid.
Cartman jumped back to his feet and gasped, "Ya didn't see me! …And I'm not takin' yer PSP either!" As he lied, Cartman grabbed the closest thing he could, which was Kyle's PSP. And then, as fast as he could, Cartman ran for the open window to make his escape. But as soon as he set foot on the windowsill, he lost his balance and fell like a rock. "Wa-woah! WAAH!"
Thud.
"Butters, you stupid asshole! I told you to put the trampoline over HYAH!"
"Uh-I-I-I'm sorry, Eric! I thought you said 'left.'"
"Ah DID say left, you butt-pipe!"
"Th-that's your right."
"No, it's YOUR right!"
"I know I'm right."
"NO! …Augh, ferget it! Yer fired!"
Now that he was truly alone, Kyle sighed again and laid back against his pillow tiredly as the argument outside went on. It would appear that Kyle was aware of Cartman's inexplicable hobby of intrusion, and with half-open eyes he came up with this simple conclusion: "…I have got to get bars on the window."
*
South Park Elemrntary, Monday morning.
"Okay, children, settle down," ordered Mr. Garrison to an already-settled class. "Now, before we begin today's lessons, I have some very important news concerning the dance this weekend."
Bebe quickly raised her hand.
"Yes, Bebe?"
"Where's Kyle?"
"He called out sick this morning."
"Did he get diabetes again?" asked Craig.
Mr. Garrison rolled his eyes. "Craig, Kyle was born with diabetes."
"That lucky bastard," frowned the kid in blue.
"Do you kids wanna hear about your stupid dance or not?" Garrison impatiently asked.
"Yes!" was the unanimous reply.
"Fine, then." Garrison then pulled out a small piece of paper and read it. "As you know, we've taken our ideas for the spring dance to the school staff, and it seems that a new poll was sent out throughout the school. And it looks like one of your ideas has been accepted as this year's dance theme!"
"Hooray!!" cheered the class.
"It seems that eighty-five percent of the school has decided to go with… this." Garrison then held up a large plaque to the class with the title of the dance theme. "Ooooooooo," purred the students.
Putting down the plaque, Garrison went on to say, "Now there's no rule that you have to bring a date to the dance, but you will be introduced by order of Singles and Couples."
"Kick ass," smiled a confident Cartman. "I already know who I'm goin' with."
He was lying.
*
Almost immediately after school, Cartman went to work on asking various girls to the dance. Whether Kyle would show up to the event or not, the fat boy just had to be one step ahead of him. But it wouldn't be easy.
"Hey Bebe, you wanna go to the dance with me?"
"Eat fish, fatass."
"Well screw you too, bitch! …Hey Heidi, wanna-"
"Leave me alone, bubble-butt."
"…Hey, Lola, once you know fat you never go flat!"
"Bite me."
"…Esther?"
"Get lost."
"Lizzy?"
"Keep walking."
"Nelly? …Ay, Nelly, where're you going? Woah, woah, WOAH Nelly!" She took off before he could even catch up to her.
By five-thirty, Cartman was at the bottom of the barrel as far as girls to ask to the dance with. He had no choice but to knock on the door to the last available female. As she watched from the doorway, Cartman pulled off a well-planned speech: "It is with great humility that I happen upon your doorstep and request that you attend the South Park Elementary Spring Dance with me, for I believe you and I are truly destined for each other. We have the same goals, you and I- we both hate hippies and assholes, and we share the same interests in world domination. So if you would consider my offer, my dearest soul mate, know that I will make that night the grandest night of your young and beautiful life."
Shelly Marsh paused with a certain look of confusion in her eyes. "…..Are you freakin' serious??"
"Please, Shelly!" begged Cartman as he fell to his knees and clasped his hands. "Nobody else will go with me, and I'll look like a total idiot if I go alone! You gotta do me this one huge favor!"
"I don't dance for anybody, especially for fat little turds like you!"
"I'll give you fifty dollars at the end of the night!"
"What time do I pick you up?"
*
It turned out that Kyle was not sick that day, he was just avoiding the girls again. But one day was enough for him; he couldn't ignore his studies like most kids, and he knew he would have to face his fears sooner or later. All he needed was some guidance. What he needed… was a school chef.
Jeff had moved into Chef's old house- perhaps it was face, or just plain irony. Whichever the case was, that's where Kyle ended up going to that evening. He rang the doorbell, and sure enough, the tall skinny white guy with the apron and chef hat answered the door. "…Hello?"
"Hey, Jeff."
"Oh, it's you. What're you doing here, kid?"
"I came to ask for your advice," confessed Kyle. "May I come in?"
"Uh… okay, I guess."
Gone were the 70's-inspired décor of the old Chef; in its place were retro furniture including a Chia Pet on a table beside the television, Troll Dolls lined up on a cabinet in the living room, and a soft white couch instead of the big leopard-spotted one. "Wow, this place is different," commented Kyle.
"Yeah, I'm a child of the 80's," replied Jeff. "So what did you wanna talk to me about, kid?"
"You can call me Kyle."
"Okay, Kyle, what's on your mind?"
The young boy sat on the couch as if making himself feel at home. "Well, you know the school dance is this weekend, and I was wondering if you could help me with some girl problems."
"…Uh… Shouldn't you be asking your mom or dad about this?"
"Well, you're the school chef. We always used to talk to Chef about our problems."
"…Look, Kyle… I'm not 'Chef,' I'm just Jeff. I really don't know how to help you with your problems, I just make lunch food."
Kyle's mouth gaped in profound disappointment. "…But… I- I thought…"
"Look I'm sorry, but I really can't help you."
Kyle hung his head in sorrow. "…Cartman was right. You don't care at all about us."
"No, no. I do care."
"No you don't. If you did, you'd stop complaining about being just an ordinary chef and listen to what I have to say. The old Chef would make us feel better before, during and after lunch! He was an all-around nice guy… and you're… You're nothing special." Jeff felt hurt by this comment, but Kyle ignored him as he got up to leave. "I'm sorry I wasted your time; I won't bother you anymore. Goodbye, Jeff."
"…Kyle, wait!"
The boy stopped and turned around to face him.
Jeff took a gulp and went for it: "…What exactly is your problem?"
Kyle couldn't help but smile a little, knowing he had gotten through to Jeff. He walked back to him and replied, "Well, I used to like this girl named Rebecca Cotswalds, but she broke my heart a while back- and it was during another dance, believe it or not. And now, all the girls wanna be my date for this dance, and I dunno who to go with because I'm afraid that any one of them will tear out my heart and dance all over it."
"Oh! So you're what they call 'once bitten, twice shy.'"
"Huh?"
"That's a song from an old metal band called Great White. But what it means is, you're just scared of getting hurt again. But Kyle, you need to get over this Rebecca girl and try to move on, or else you'll never get to find the Right Girl."
"And how do I do that?"
"With closure."
"Closure? What's closure?"
"Just talk to this Rebecca chick and tell her how you feel. Then when you realize she's as over you as you're over her, you'll feel better."
"…I should go talk to her? …I'm kinda scared to."
"Here, lemmie show you something." Jeff then walked Kyle over to a desk drawer full of vintage 80's rock CDs. "Uh-huh…. Here we go," muttered the school chef as he fished out one album after another. "Pat Benatar… Bon Jovi… Joan Jett… Alice Cooper… a-a-a-a-and… Def Leppard. Can't forget them."
"What're you doing?" asked a curious Kyle.
"These are some of the best Get-Over-Your-Ex bands out there, kid. I'm gonna lend these to you to help you on your way." As he said this, Jeff gladly handed the albums over to his new protégé. "Just be careful with 'em, okay?"
"Wow!" cheered Kyle as he held the albums. "Thanks, Jeff!"
"No problem." He then walked Kyle out of his house. But before the boy walked off for good, he stopped him. "Hey Kyle… That old Chef you talked about. He was a cool guy, wasn't he?"
"He was," replied Kyle somberly. "The coolest guy ever… But, you're pretty cool too."
Jeff couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, kiddo."
*
Cartman was lucky to have known a boy as gullible and willing to cooperate as Butters Stotch. Together, they snuck into South Park Cemetery in the dead of night, carrying a sack full of occult items. They came to a stop at Chef's grave, and Cartman pulled out tall wax candles, a Wicca pendant, and even a book which they believed contained ancient spells- it was actually a Harry Potter book, but Cartman would never admit to it.
"Okay Butters, you light up the candles and I'll read the chapter on Spirit Channeling."
"Uh, why're we doing this again, Eric? Sh-shouldn't we leave Chef's soul in peace?"
"We can't let those hippies replace him with that oddball cracker," hissed Cartman. "Besides, I need Chef's help to get back at Kahl!"
As Butters started to light up the wax candles with a borrowed lighter, he protested, "I think we should leave well enough alone."
"I don't pay you to think."
"…You don't pay me at all."
"Just shuddup and get those Goddamn candles in position!"
"Alright, fine…" Butters had the lit candles circled around the grave while Cartman donned a black robe and the Wicca pendant around his neck. He then checked his watch and waited until it struck midnight.
When the hour came at last, the candle flames flushed from yellow to blue- either because there was true magic involved, or perhaps they were props all along. Cartman raised his hands in the air and started to pray ritualistically: "Oh, great Spirit of Chef, I command thee to rise up from the ashes and inhabit this perfectly fahn body of mine! Give me your soul, your rhythm, your jazzy blackness! Hear me, oh Great Spirit! Infuse me with your great talents!"
Crackle-BOOM! Went a bolt of lightning in the sky.
"Ha! It's working!"
"Actually, they were calling for rain," replied Butters softly.
Cartman ignored him and held up his so-called Spell Book. "I hold tha powa! Give me your strength O Spirit! Hazzah!!"
There was a brief moment of silence as the candles were blown out by a frosty wind.
"…Well? Did it work? You feel black yet, Eric?"
Cartman lost face as his arms went back down. "…Meh. I guess we'll have to wait and see. Come, Butters, we have much preparations to do before we kick that Jew boy's ass back to Loserville."
Clouds started to part as the boys exited from the way they came. The full moon glistened upon Chef's gravestone, and if one stared at it long enough, they would swear that it slightly moved for a moment.
*
"I hate myself for loving you
Can't break free from the things that you do
I try to walk, but I run back to you
That's why I hate myself for loving you…!"
Kyle laid back on his bed and banged his head to the sound of Joan Jett and The Blackhearts, while his little brother Ike bounced around excitedly. After a few minutes of listening to the hard-core rock, Ike jumped on the bed and threw himself at his big brother. "Slam dance!!" he cheered.
"Ike, lay off!" Kyle brushed him aside. He then waited for the song to end before turning off the CD player beside him. He sat up and calmly announced, "Okay… I think I'm ready. Ike, I'm going out for a little while. You're the man of the house while I'm gone, okay?"
"O-kay!" As Ike watched Kyle head toward the bedroom door, he blurted out, "Were baba gone?"
Kyle looked back to him and smiled, "I gotta see a girl about closure."
*
Humming the tune "Bringing on the Heartbreak," Kyle skipped over to the Cotswald residence. He gently knocked on the door, unsure of who to expect. Nervously, he clasped his hands.
The door softly opened, and out peered the young boy Mark, Rebecca's protective brother.
"Uh, hi! Mark, right? I'm Kyle Broflovski. I dunno if you remember me, but I was wondering if"
SLAM! Went the door.
"…I guess he remembers me." Bravely, Kyle knocked on the door again. Mark opened it again, looking quite miffed, so Kyle was quick to say, "Look, I know you blame me for your sister becoming a total tramp, but you have to know that I had no intentions of messing her up like that! All I wanted was to be her boyfriend; I had no idea she would like kissing guys so much! So please, I'm begging you to forgive me!"
Mark softened his brows. "…Well, I guess it has been a while since the Bay of Pigs Memorial Dance. And it is unfair to blame you for what happened, so I guess you have my forgiveness."
"Great."
"Is that all then?"
"Well, actually, I was kinda hoping your sister was home."
…….SLAM! Went the door again.
Feeling defeated, Kyle bowed his head and started to walk away. He only stopped when he heard the door opening again. He looked back, and there she was! It was Rebecca- not the leotard-wearing tramp, but the old Rebecca, back in her modestly green clothing.
"Re-Rebecca?" gasped Kyle in surprise.
"Yes?" she smiled slightly.
How relieved Kyle was, seeing that she had reverted back to her old self! He practically ran to the door in his excitement, but stopped just at the doorway. "…Okay, look. I know it's been a while since we've seen each other, but I think we need to find some kind of closure before we move on with our lives."
"Okay… What was your name again?"
"Kyle."
"Oh, right. Kyle…"
"…So. Are you ready?"
"I guess so."
"Good…" Kyle clenched his fists and turned on the fury. "I hate you! You broke my heart back in third grade, and turned me into a total pussy in front of my friends! I may forgive you for that someday, when I'm older- maybe! But right now, I need to move on and find someone better. And you need to learn how to control yourself, you crazy bitch! So this is goodbye! Oh, and this time I'm slamming the door on YOU!"
SLAM! ……cree-ee-ee-eek. Frustrated, Kyle slammed the stubborn door again. He then took a deep sigh and started down the doorstep.
To his surprise, Rebecca reopened the door and peered out. She didn't look hurt at all by what he said. "Kyle? …Are you okay now?"
After giving it a thought, he looked up at her and slowly cracked a smile. "…Yeah. …Yeah, I think I am. Thanks, Beck."
"Glad to have helped," she smiled before gently closing the door.
Kyle left the area a new man, or rather a new preteen. His heart started beating as if for the first time in ages as he skipped down the street. …He felt like dancing.
*
TO BE CONCLUDED…
Kyle has temporarily taken Stan's place at the classroom podium. "There's still time to cast your votes for the Spring Dance Theme in Act III," he says to you the viewer. "Here they are again, in case you missed them:
PIRATE/NINJA LOVE AFFAIR
CELEBRITY COUPLES
I LOVE DISCO
SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE (Couples dressed as Shakespearean characters)
FAIRY TALE COUPLES
Kyle smiles, "If you wanna be a part of this, just leave your vote in a Review, or go to Snodin's main page and click on the appropriate Poll. The final act is coming soon, so get your votes in NOW. See you at the dance!" *waves*