Disclaimer: For those of you who are scatterbrained like moi, I have already disclaimed my any chance of ownership for this story, but here it is again. I do not own South Park. You should know this by now however, because if I did own it, South Park would suck ass and go bankrupt. And in revenge Cartman would probably make me into chilly, which is not a prospect I look forward too.
A Quick Thanks: I would just like to briefly thank all the people who either favorited, alerted, or review the story. The fact that other people besides my friends (who forced me to post this, those bastards) are reading this. Enough rambling, here's chapter two!
Butters' POV:
"What's so bad about Kenny comin' here?" I asked Token.
We were all gathered in the Black family 'living room' (some living room, it could fit about nine of mine!) at six o'clock, and I was confused as heck. Stan, Eric, and Kenny weren't due to come for another hour or so, but for some odd reason Token wanted the rest of us here at six. Weirder still we couldn't tell the three boys that were presently absent either.
"Are you really this retarded Butters?" asked Clyde incredulously.
"And you're just now realizing this?" Craig retorted.
The rest of the gang just rolled their eyes. "We all know why---well most of us, anyway---" Token amended, shooting me a wary glance, "we're here. Kenny has broken a very ancient taboo that we have kept for the past four years: not mentioning the k-word."
Everyone nodded solemnly except for me, "What's the k-word?"
"It's Kyle dipshit." Craig said monotonously.
"Ohhh."
"Yeah. . .anyway, not only did Kenny mention Kyle, he went over and talked to him!"
"Well I still don't get why we can't be friends with Kyle now too. He's really nice to me durin' English class if we're paired up." I mumbled stubbornly.
Tweek twitched a bit and let out a yelp.
"Butters, we've been over this a thousand times. We chose Stan's side all those years ago and there's no going back now." Token stated exasperatedly. "What I'd like to know is why Kenny decided to break that rule. Sure it went unspoken, but everyone knows it."
"Almost everyone." Craig said in a bored manner, cocking his head in my direction. Hmm, I wonder why. . .?
"Gah! What are we going to do?! Stan and Kenny are probably going to disembowel each other and---"
"No one's disemboweling anyone Tweek." Craig sighed loudly, rolling his eyes.
"Still, someone's going to need to keep Stan and Kenny occupied and far away from each other. . .and Cartman. Cartman would just love the chance to ruin another friendship, and not all of us come back once we're dead." Clyde added.
"Okay it's settled then." Token declared. "Me and Clyde will distract Stan. Craig and Tweek, you can help us but for the love of god keep an eye out on Cartman at ALL times. Butters, you're in charge of keeping Kenny busy and out of awkward situations with Stan." he ordered.
"Well, alrighty then, but I still think Stan justs needs to learn a lesson in sharin' and respectin' other people's feelins'." I replied sullenly.
It was a given fact that parties would have alcohol, but that still didn't mean I had to make people drink it.
At least that's what I thought before Kenny arrived and I made my move to distract him. And it turned out that the only true way to distract Kenny was to get him drunk, a prospect I wasn't too thrilled about. There was the obvious fact that a) alcohol displeased me, but then there was also factor b): guilt. But I think Kenny suspected what I was up to, because before I could offer him a beer he patted me on the back and said, "Don't worry Butters, I'm a big boy. I'll get myself drunk on my own."
And he kept true to his word. In under one hour he was drunker than an alcoholic at a vodka convention. The sight of seeing my good friend so vulnerable was sickening to me. I could feel the bile escalating up my throat as Kenny waved good bye to the other guys and pulled me good-naturedly into one of Token's many sitting rooms. We were alone, and it appeared that there was something he wanted to say.
When someone first looked at Kenny, I think the first thing they noticed was his aura. I knew it was the first thing I noticed. How else could you describe the essence of Kenny? He just seemed to radiate some kind of good feelings that made me at least feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Then after you looked past his positive attitude you hit his eyes. Those eyes were bluer than the sky and my eyes combined. While my eyes had a greenish side to them his were such a perfect blue, and they seemed to have their own little secret smile to them. Like they knew something you didn't. Yep, Kenny sure was handsome, but then again so were most of my friends.
"Hey Butters, how's Kyle been?" he asked me, his words slurring dramatically.
I scrunched up my face in thought. "Gee Kenny, I guess he's doin' alright. I haven't been at their table in a little while, but he seems happy enough. But not like before, you know what I mean?"
He shook his head.
Sighing, I tried to think of a better way to describe it. "It's just that before when he was with you guys, he was always so lively and animated. Now though he's sort of that, it's just kind of like he's lost his luster. Ya know, like someone forgot him on a shelf and he needs a good dustin' off."
Kenny looked at me sadly. "He needs Stan, Butters. But he'll never admit it. Kyle's too stubborn. He wouldn't admit it then, and he won't admit it now."
It was now my turn to be confused. "What do you mean he wouldn't admit it then Kenny?"
A sigh escaped Kenny's lips. Embarrassedly he let out a loud belch before he answered, "Can't tell ya. I promised Kyle that the events that took place on February 1, three and a half years ago, would never be breathed from my lips. If you really want to know what I mean, go ask Kyle yourself. We McKormick's may be good for nothing drunks, but we keep our end of the bargains."
Nonchalantly, I nodded along as if I understood what he had just said, although in all honesty I was quite confused. However just as I was about to question him more, Kenny passed out on the couch and I had to go leave to get one of the guys to help me wake him up. Because everyone knew that Kenny was not a happy camper when he was awoken. Why he could probably give Kyle's mom a run for her money if she saw his wakenin' temper.
I decided that the only way to find out the truth about what really happened that night would be to do what Kenny said and talk to Kyle himself. So when lunch rolled around the next day I walked over to Kyle's table and sat down cheerfully. All the girls welcomed me unsuspecting of my true motives because it was not uncommon that I would stop by during lunch. Well, all except Mercedes, who eyed me rather thoughtfully. Not even Kyle himself noticed something wrong, that is until I asked him if we could talk in private.
"Yes Butters?" he asked tiredly once we were out in the halls.
"I want to know what happened on the night of February 1, three and a half years ago." I demanded sounding much more confident than I actually was.
Kyle cursed under his breath, "Goddammit! Let me guess: Kenny was drunk and he told you this?"
"Well yeah, but how'd you know it was Kenny who told me?"
Kyle sighed, "Because he's the only other person who knows something even happened that night."
"Oh. But he wouldn't tell me what happened. All he said was he'd kept up his end of the bargain and that if I wanted to know more I'd have to ask you." I admitted sheepishly.
"Might as well tell you, but you can't tell anyone else, okay? Kenny is the only other living soul who knows. . .well remembers. . .what happened on the events of that night. Why he thinks you can help I don't know, but Kenny always was good at this kind of shit." Kyle ran his fingers through his hair before continuing.
"See, I have a little bit of insomnia and it causes me to stay up later than most people. Most nights I can handle it by reading myself to sleep, drinking warm milk, watching TV, well you get the idea. But sometimes if it's really bad than I'll go outside and take a short walk around town. That's what I decided to do on February 1; take a short walk to Starks Pond." Kyle paused here in his story while his eyes stared off into space, remembering a moment where something---whether terrible or wonderful---took place.
"It was snowing really hard that day, and I remember wondering why the hell I was even going through with my walk. And then I reached Starks Pond and I saw a body I'd recognize anywhere laying down in the snow: Stan's."
"What was Stan doin' layin' down there in the snow like that?" I mused.
Kyle shrugged. " I don't know because I never asked."
"Huh---?"
"Let me just finish the story, kay?" he replied. I nodded for him to continue. "I wanted to just leave him, it seemed like karma that the stupid fucker got what he deserved. But I'm not that kind of person." Kyle looked at me pained, and I nodded in understanding. I could see what Kyle was trying to tell me because I was that way too. No matter how many times I told myself someone didn't deserve my help, I couldn't abandon them, just like Kyle couldn't abandon Stan even after he'd backstabbed him. At least I think that's what happened. "So I went over to check for his vitals; he was still breathing, he just needed to get somewhere warm and fast. Even though I didn't have much upper-body strength I still managed to sort of half-drag, half-carry Stan all the way to Kenny's, which was the nearest place. Then I went around the back, tapped on his window, and told him all that had happened."
"And then?"
"And then Kenny asked me, 'Why? I thought you hate him?'."
"What did you say back?" I questioned softly.
Kyle gave me a tired smile, "I told him, 'Because I don't hate him, I just wish I did.' After I said that I made Kenny promise me that if he had any respect left for the kind of bond we used to have, than he wouldn't tell Stan it was me that found him and just make up some bullshit that Stan had stumbled into his home half-dead." He gave a bitter laugh. "I guess Kenny really did respect what we once had because Stan bought his whole lie. I haven't seen either of them up close since."
I gave a comforting pat on the shoulder. "It's okay Kyle, I know just how you feel. Why, I wish I wasn't so darn nice all the time 'cause I do nice things for people like Eric who bring me trouble. And my parents tell me, 'Butters you have to stop being such a p-pussy.' But I can't help it 'cause it's my nature."
For the first time since I'd pulled him out into the hall, Kyle gave me a genuine smile. "Thanks Butters. Just please don't tell anyone, especially Stan."
"Of course I won't! But, I can't help but wonderin' why you don't want Stan to know?"
"Because I want to hate him." Kyle replied. "And I can't have him knowing that I no matter how hard I try, I'll never be able too. That first year he was gone I spent so many nights wishing I could just despise him for the rest of my life." His voice cracked a bit. "But I couldn't Butters! No matter how goddamn hard I tried I still always couldn't. . ."
"I know Kyle. I could never fully hate some of the people that wronged me too." I confided, and together we stood there in the silence of the other's misery.
I walked back sullenly to my own table and plopped down huffily besides Kenny. Everyone's eyes were on me; it was a well-known fact that I never came directly from sitting at Kyle's table back to our table. That way I wasn't breaking the taboo because it wasn't as if Stan was worried about where someone like me was. Then again I didn't really see how it mattered since according to the other guys, and I quote, 'the shit has hit the fan so many times it's amazing we still aren't all royally screwed yet by the wrath of Stan'. Of course I had no idea what the heck that meant, so Craig had to translate for me. Apparently things couldn't really get any worse.
"So?" Kenny prompted breaking the silence.
"Yeah he told me the whole story. And I think it's pretty darn rotten that he wants you to keep that kind of promise." I mumbled back.
Now everyone's eyes bored holes into me wondering what the heck was going on. We'd managed to keep Kenny, Stan, and Eric on separate ends of the table, but it seemed my arrival would be disturbing the carefully balanced peace they'd been able to attain while I was gone.
"What promise did Kenneh make to the jew-fag?" Eric interrupted.
"Cartman shut up." Token seethed through gritted teeth. We all knew he was just trying to stir the pot.
"You made a promise with him!" Stan exclaimed in shock. The whole table fell into a heated silence.
Kenny shrugged. "Yeah for like the past three fucking years, what's the big deal? Jesus Stan, it wasn't like I even hung out with him, I just agreed to something."
Making an aggravated sound, Stan began to furiously shovel food into his mouth, and an incredibly awkward silence followed.
Finally I couldn't take the angry tension anymore. "Well I'm sick and tired of all this avoidn' Kyle!" Now everyone's eyes turned back to me in shock. "Yeah you heard me: I said his name. And you know what else? I think you're all just scared that Kyle's gonna hate you for somethn' that happened four years ago. Sure what you guys did was pretty nasty, but not tryin' to make up for it now is even worse. So u-uh, me and Kenny are going to go sit at our own table, right Kenny?"
"We are? Sweet!" Kenny cheered.
"Y-yeah. And when you guys stop actin' like a bunch of. . .of. . .assholes---yeah I said a dirty word! Then you can come and join us. I'll see you fellas around maybe." Defiantly, I picked up my tray and walked over to one of the empty tables. Kenny followed me bemusedly and we sat down together to eat.
The first few minutes we spent were in silence, before I finally asked him some of the questions that plagued me.
"Kenny. . .why was Stan out in the cold that night?" I asked quietly.
"Honestly Butters, I don't know. When he woke up and I told him that for some reason he'd came to my place in the middle of night all feverish and shit, he told me he didn't remember why he was even out in the first place. But there was something so hesitant about the way he spoke to me that I think he was lying." Kenny replied earnestly. "So whatever the reason it was obviously one he didn't want anyone knowing."
"Oh. D-do you think Stan hates Kyle?"
"No. Then again I don't really know what he thinks of Kyle, he never mentions him. Stan's always so guarded now, you know? Like he's afraid he'll let something slip if he doesn't always have his defenses up. And in my whole lifetime I've ever known only one person who could ever make Stan let down his guard. . ."
"Kyle?"
"Yep." Kenny then laughed mirthlessly. "But I doubt he'd be much of a big help now."
I could see the regret that swam up in his eyes. Kenny partially blamed himself for what had happened. But it was all Eric's fault really. As comforting as I could manage I patted his hand gently. "It's okay Kenny. I'm sure the other guys will come to their senses eventually, and then we can all be Kyle's friends again." I then frowned. "Well except for Eric. I don't think Kyle liked him very much even before the whole incident wi-with Stan."
He sighed, and gave me a tight smile, "Sure we can Butters, whatever you say."
Bebe's POV:
Okay, what the hell did everybody want with Kyle?
First it was the amazingly gorgeous Kenny, and now 'oh shucks, gee whiz I'm really sorry' Butters came and talked to him. Worst, Kyle wouldn't tell me! I totally understood not telling Wendy because---no offense, I mean I loved the girl to death---but she could be a bit of an overbearing bitch at times. But not me! Come on, I didn't tell people's secrets. True I loved to gossip, but I respected Ky's secrets at least. His friendship actually meant something to me. And now he was having some kind of 'secret talks' from people from his past and he comes back either pissed off or depressed! I wanted to know what the hell was going on!
Kyle sat back down slowly, but Butters just picked up his tray and waltzed back to his table with an expression mixed with satisfaction and sadness. I turned my gaze back to Kyle who was stabbing at his food rather dejectedly.
"So Bebe, what do you think of me going after Clyde?" Millie mused, looking up to me for advice. Apparently in the last couple of years I had become a dating guru just because when it came to blondes I was a slut. Hey, leave me in a room with a brunette, red-head, or guy with beautiful black locks and I'd be able to contain my hormones. Put a blonde in there and boom! Bebe joygasm.
I waved her off. "Not now Millie, something is seriously stuck up Kyle's ass, and it's not your raging sexual tension for Clyde." She frowned at me and went off to talk to Anne at the other end of the table, but I was already forgetting about her.
"Kyle what the fuck is going on?" I demanded.
Wendy shot me a 'be nice' look, and turned back to Kyle sympathetically. "Bebe's sort of right Ky. Something's up. I mean, you haven't even gone back to reading your novel again." I raised one eyebrow. Kyle wasn't reading? Yep, something was screwy alright, and it wasn't me. (For once)
Kyle just gave us a look that clearly stated: leave me the hell alone. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't an option.
"We're not dropping the subject, so spill Ky!" I hissed.
Glaring at me he stood up and threw out his still full tray before coming back to grab his stuff. "Shove off." Kyle snarled, and then he strode out of the cafeteria.
"Nice going Bee." Wendy moaned. I could tell she wanted to follow him, but that probably would be detrimental (damn Wendy and her obsession with teaching us all SAT level vocabulary) to our cause. All the girls watched Kyle's departure worriedly, but then (luckily) before they could question me, the bell rang. Immediately I stood up and hurried my ass out of there to Spanish class.
Foreign languages had never been my thing, but Spanish was an easy A. The teacher taught the same lessons every year, so I could easily drift off and wonder what Kenny and Butters could've said to set Kyle off like that. Wendy had told me that Kenny had tried to apologize to him, but what about Butters? As far as I knew, Kyle held no grudges against him, and besides, today he appeared more sad and reminiscent than angry---
"¿Srta. Stevens, cómo es usted que siente?" Señora Douglas growled.
Racking my brain, I came up with the third most common response that was used, "Estoy sintiendo muy bueno hoy."
"¡Sí! Srta. Stevens bien hecho." she gushed at me before moving on to her next victim. I breathed a sigh of relief and was about to go back to spacing out when I overheard Kyle's name. Narrowing my eyes I tuned in to the exchange going on between the two boys behind me: Token and Clyde.
"Butters is breaking the taboo with Kenny, there's nothing we can do!" Token hissed.
"Did you see how fucking pissed Stan is? They're at their own table because we never acknowledge Kyle when Stan's around, and you know Stan's feeling betrayed!" Clyde whispered back.
Kenny and Butters formed their own table?!
"I know. It's like four years ago all over again. Somehow though I doubt this will blow over, but we can still hope. Who knows, maybe Stan will lighten up a bit. I mean he did allow Butters and Kyle to talk before." Token replied uneasily.
"Yeah, but that's only because it's Butters. He never realizes that he's talking to a social pariah! Stan understands that which is why he tolerates it, but Kenny on the other hand, well he can be held to his actions. He's not getting forgiven any time soon." Clyde countered.
Holy shit! This was BIG news! As the bell rang and everyone filed out for Study hall, I raced out into the hallway and over to Wendy before dragging her into an empty corridor.
"Bee, what the hell? I didn't finish talking to the French teacher!" she complained.
"That's not important right now Wends, because you will never guess what I just overheard." I smirked.
Wendy just rolled her eyes, "What have I told you about eavesdropping?"
"That it's wrong and blah, blah, blah! But this is about Ky!" I protested.
A smug grin crossed my face as I saw Wendy's turmoil of moral conscious versus concern for Kyle. "All right, fine. I'm all ears." she huffed.
So I told her, and I was right. She never would have guessed.
"Sorry Kyle, we can't hang out tonight. Bee and I have a project." Wendy lied flawlessly.
The three of us were walking home (Kyle having cooled off by now) and Wendy and I were canceling our normal plans with Kyle. It was obvious he didn't believe us, but he nodded anyway in understanding, and made the separate turn to his house. We were silent the rest of the way to Wendy's and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. Sure what we were going to do was for Ky's own good, but we were still going behind his back. I could tell Wendy felt the same thing as me as we entered her house because of the pained look that was etched across her face.
"Wends. . .you know this is the right thing to do. For all we know Ky could be keeping a life-threatening secret!" I said in a placating manner,
Wendy just flopped down on her couch. "It doesn't matter Bebe. We're still trying to form a plan to interrogate Kyle, and that's wrong!" she wailed.
Rolling my eyes, I placed my hands on my hips. "Oh and I'm the melodramatic one? Seriously Wendy, you need to get a grip on yourself so we can figure out what to do about Kyle." Before I could press my point further, Wendy's cell-phone range, and she answered it gratefully.
"Hey K---WHAT?! Slow down, I can't---okay, we're coming!" she then hung up quickly, her face whiter than a sheet. "That was Kyle, we need to go."
"What's wrong?" I asked fearfully.
"It's his Dad and. . .well he's been in a car accident." Wendy answered.
"What?! Who's the asshole that---"
"They don't know who side-swiped them, but they do know that Mr. Broflovski wasn't the only one injured." she whispered.
My heart sunk, "Who else?"
Wendy bit her lip before grabbing her mother's car keys (Mrs. Testaburger was at a book club meeting) and began to head out the door.
"Who else Wendy?!" I shouted.
Slowly she turned to face me, "The person who was driving the car Mr. B was in."
"What's their name?" I prompted worried.
Closing her eyes, Wendy answered. Oh. Fuck.
Kenny's POV: (After lunch; earlier that day)
I decided that with all the recent developments that had occurred, skipping French class was not an option: it was a necessity. However Butters deciding to skip Latin class for me was a pleasant (and welcome) surprise. Just the thought of the little blonde near me made my heart soar. Of course being Butters, not only was he obtuse to this, but he didn't start second-guessing our plan until we were walking out behind the school.
"Gee Kenny, are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, rubbing his knuckles together.
Smiling bemusedly I answered him, "You don't have to come if you don't want to. I'm just going to bum a cigarette off the Goth kids, and then we can do whatever you want."
The Goth kids were the school cigarette supplier. While other people had to pay for them, the Goth kids gave them to me for free because I could tell them stories about death. (Apparently dying all the time and coming back to life was VERY non-conformist) Other than selling smokes, the Goth kids hadn't really changed. There was Curls: the tallest Goth who was held back a year or two, Henrietta: the fat but hilarious girl, Flippy Kid: who had a red streak going through his hair, and Kindergoth: (who really wasn't a kindergartner anymore) the youngest out of all of them who skipped second grade because his teacher couldn't handle him. However when it came down to it, Flippy Kid was their undisputed leader, main cigarette dealer, and probably the most hardcore out of all of them.
Butters had never really met the Goth kids, (not counting that Vampire incident back in fourth grade or when he had a brief exchange with them near Raisins) but I knew that as long as he kept his mouth shut and stayed near me, he should be fine. I explained this all to him as we rounded the final building corner and came upon the Goths.
"Kenny." Henrietta greeted tonelessly, blowing out cigarette smoke.
"Hey guys---oh, this is my friend Butters. Butters, Goth kids." I replied equally bored. Wordlessly Flippy passed me a smoke and a lighter to borrow. Once I'd lit up, Flippy eyed me warily.
"Heard you formed your own table McKormick. That's sick." Flippy stated.
Butters opened his mouth in shock, "How'd you---"
I rolled my eyes, "Butters, the Goths are gossip whores." Which was basically true. They didn't discuss the gossip usually, but they kind of blended into the background. And when you were invisible, you saw and heard a lot of things. Basically these guys had dirt on everybody---which gave me an idea. "Hey, what do you guys know about Kyle Broflovski?"
Henrietta snorted, "You mean one of the few guys this school has to offer that we respect? Not much."
This called for an eyebrow raising moment. They respected Kyle?
Kindergoth stared at the ground while Curls answered my unspoken question, "We respect Broflovski because he notices us, meaning that we don't know any of his secrets. Unlike the rest of the wannabe douchebag population, he doesn't blab them in front of us."
"Well. . .except that one little thing we know." Henrietta smirked.
"What?" I demanded anxiously.
"As we said before, we don't know any of his secrets. But Broflovski only ever made one slip-up, unintentionally allowing us to figure out who he did tell all his secrets to." she continued.
"Who's that?" I questioned.
Now Flippy gave me a wide smile, "Ze Mole."
"Kenny, slow down!" Butters yelped as I ran towards the side exit. I couldn't slow down though. Not if I wanted to reach the place the Goth kids swore Christophe hung out at, and I had to get there before the bell rang. After lunch there was only one more period of the day for the seniors (and a long ass period at that) until school was let out for good. So really I only had that one opportunity to confront Christophe outside of French class.
"BRIIING!!!!!!"
Quickly I skidded to a halt as Butters caught up with me panting. The school building was emptying out, but if my Goth friends were right (and the bastards usually were) Christophe and his best friend Gregory would be exiting the side door at any moment.
A few minutes passed before I actually saw them. Gregory and Christophe were both loners, albeit Gregory being the nicer, civil one. He was the school treasurer and the second smartest kid in the grade. (Kyle being the first) Christophe on the other hand was a force to be reckoned with. Nobody messed with him, and very few people even knew his real name, because no one ever dared to call him by it unless they had a death wish.
Christophe noticed us first, and scowled before walking towards us with Gregory. "What?" he sneered.
Butters rubbed his knuckles together fervently while I tried to play it cool. "We need to talk to you about Kyle."
His expression instantly deepened. "Gregory, wait for me by ze car. Zis will only take a minute."
Gregory nodded reluctantly before walking off to wherever they parked. Lighting up a cigarette, Christophe spoke. "I cannot zell you much yet since you 'ave yet zo become friends wit Kyle, non?"
"Well can you at least tell us one thing for now?" I pleaded.
Christophe looked thoughtful for a moment before he responded. "'E lies zo people when it concerns you, ze obnoxious fat one, and Stan. For example, 'e lied zo blondie over 'ere zis morning when 'e said no one else but Kenny knew about February 1, because 'e told moi as well."
"How do you know he's not lying to you?" Butters pondered.
"E 'as no reason zo lie zo me." Christophe shrugged. "Look, when ze time is right I will come and zell you boys what I know. But until zen, you will 'ave to be patient."
I sighed in frustration. "Why?"
Letting out an annoyed grumble, Christophe began to explain. "Because Kyle would attempt zo kick my ass if 'e knew zat I was 'fraternizing wit ze enemy.'"
"Butters and I are the enemy?" I asked skeptically.
Momentarily a slight twinkle entered his eye. "One could say zat. You could also say zat you zwo are zoo observant for your own good and Kyle does not want you zo figure anyzing out."
Cocking one eye brow, I eyed Christophe carefully. "Since when has Kyle ever had any secrets that big?"
"Well maybe Kyle just likes his privacy. Why my dad always says, 'Butters now you need to respect other people's privacies! Like when your father needs to release his special urges with other men you have to stay quiet and not tell mommy, got it?'"
There was an incredibly awkward silence as Christophe and I both stared at Butters rather uncomfortably.
Seeming to realize his folly, Butters moaned. "Oh gee, I said something inappropriate for a social conversation again, didn't I Kenny?"
Before I could respond, Christophe's cell-phone rang and he sighed dramatically before answering it with obvious anger. "What?" he snapped. A few seconds passed before his expression softened a bit. "Oh, I see. Damnit, does zis stuff 'appen often zo you? Oui, I shall be zhere momentarily---and don't do anyzing stupid mon ami." Releasing a slight growl he turned to us and muttered, "I must go, but believe me when I say you shall be seeing me soon." Christophe then turned and walked off to his car and opened the car door before speeding out of the parking lot with Gregory in the passenger seat.
"What the heck was that about Kenny?" Butters questioned confused.
"I have no fucking idea." I replied to him honestly. Sighing I tried to shove all thoughts of kissing the blonde out of mind and to focus on the task at hand. "C'mon, let's go back to my place and try to figure out our next move."
Butters gave me a huge smile. "All righty then Kenny, if you say so." We began to walk together in an almost silence (Butters was whistling cheerfully) when we---or rather my body---stumbled upon Tweek. The caffeinated teen was twitching more than usual---I swore to God he was on hyper-speed---and he looked rather freaked out. Eyes widening like Bambi's just before his mother was killed, Tweek began to screech out what was wrong.
"Ahh! You guys, you guys! Gah! Craig, ergh, needs you to go to the hospital! He said that even though you're-ngh- fighting with Stan you, gah!, need to be there!" he screamed, fidgeting nervously.
"Why?" I asked warily. Suffice it to say that Tweek was an easy person to prank, and though Craig usually watched out for the twitchy blonde, sometimes even he was prone to pulling small pranks on Tweek in order to just piss off the rest of the fucking population. 'Cause when Tweek Tweak swore something was wrong, you were coming along with him to solve (or run even farther away from) the problem whether you liked to or not.
"Because, ergh, Stan's Dad and. . .another guy were in the same car when a semi hit them! Gah!"
"A truck?! Oh hamburgers!" Butters cried.
Yet I didn't speak, for I had noticed an almost hesitant pause in Tweek's tale. "Who was the other guy?" I demanded.
Tweek twitched nervously before he replied.
"Kyle's Dad."
This day just kept getting even more fucking better.
Author's Note: Sorry if I'm making Bebe out to seem like such a slut, she's not really. Well except maybe a mind slut, but who isn't these days? xD And she is only a slut for blondes, but hey, us blondes are smexy. Anyway, I hope I didn't bore anyone too much when I got into the whole 'philosophical' shit about how Kyle regards Stan, but I'm just lame like that. I know, I saw an opportunity to provide insight and I took the plunge. God I've been getting in touch too much with my inner-psychology side lately. Now regarding Christophe's accent, I know he pronounces 'what' as 'wat' but if I made any more grammatically incorrect mistakes, I think my spell-check would have exploded. -.-" So. . .yeah, sorry about that. On one last note, you're going to have to wait for the next chapter in order for Kenny, Butters, and the other kids to start noticing that Kyle and Stan are liars. Anyway, thanks for reading!
Translations: (Sorry if they don't come out quite right because I had to use a translator)
¿Srta. Stevens, cómo es usted que siente? . . . . . . Miss Stevens, how are you feeling?
Señora . . . . . . Mrs.
Estoy sintiendo muy bueno hoy . . . . . . I am feeling very good today
¡Sí! Srta. Stevens bien hecho . . . . . . Yes! Well done Miss Stevens
moi . . . . . . me
Oui . . . . . . Yes
mon ami . . . . . . my friend