A/N: So sorry for such a late update, guys. And it's effing SHORT too. Ugh. But I wanted to get this out as soon as I could after I started writing again so y'all would know I'm still alive. Hehe, anyway… between the holidays, a family tragedy and a Tweek-centric fic (complete with Creek!) in the works as well, I had a tough time with this. My next update will be much sooner (and longer, hopefully!).

Enjoy! As per usual, if you see anything wrong with anything (grammar/spelling, personality, writing in general, etc, etc.) please feel free to point it out. I'm aiming to improve!

Maniacx3: Thanks! I'm glad you like it.

Bethany C. MacKenzie: Hehe, yes, I did. It's a weird thing with me... whenever I start to like characters, I always look up their names and have fun with their meanings. Thanks; I hope you continue to like it... but if you stop liking it, make sure to tell me why. xD Thanks for the review!

SangSeiku: Thank you! Most of my ideas suck ass, so when I actually think of a good one, it's a big thing for me. xD I'm glad you like it!

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I need help figuring out what happened to Death; but who do I turn to? I don't know anyone who would know even half as much as I do - surely no mortal could be of assistance. I sigh as I continue my meander through the streets of South Park. My first thought had been to kill myself (obvious, right?) but I quickly dispelled that idea. I'm not sure what might happen if I were to die and Death was not there, or if another being had taken his place. I might never return and that really isn't something I'm quite ready for.

I kick aimlessly at a stray cat that I pass and consider my options. I could always ask Kyle if he can think of something intelligent for me to do; he's one of the smartest guys I know. Nevertheless, I really don't think he could be much help in this particular situation. Chances are, the most I'll get from him is a lecture for keeping my connection with the Immortal Realm a secret for so long. I could talk to Stan or Butters, but frankly, between either of them and Kyle, I think I'd be better off with the Jew.

I'm awoken from my reverie when I collide painfully with something hard. I step back in surprise and then look up to realize that I had walked myself right into the front door of Eric Cartman's house. I blink - is this some sort of sign? I glance downward in uncertainty before raising a brown-gloved hand to knock on the wood.

"The Immortal Beings send messages and signs to their mortals every day, but very few notice them as often as they're sent," Death told me once.

"Why don't they make themselves more clear if they want them to obey their wishes?" I had asked, frowning.

"It is one of the many laws that we must obey. Interaction with those on Earth is quite limited. The Almighty God wouldn't want us lesser gods interfering too much with life. Hence, we can enforce our whims on those mortals that believe in our existence, but only to an extent. When you see something unusual or if the unexpected happens, follow through with what it leads you to; it could very well be precisely what you're looking for. I am not the only immortal on your side, young one."

Mere seconds later, the door opens a there stands Cartman himself, bearing a large donut and an even larger scowl. I grin cheekily at the snack in his hand and he immediately becomes defensive.

"What are you looking at?!" he snaps, his frown deepening. Suddenly he catches the glint in my eye. "Ay! This is my donut," he growls, pulling it further from me as though I was just about to snatch it from his hand.

"Never mind that; look, I need your help with something big," I say and, after catching his skeptical eyebrow raise, I continue with, "don't make me beg dude, this is really serious."

He seems to understand my urgency, for his next move is to step back from the doorway and motion for me to do the same. I enter his warm, inviting house and follow him up the stairs to his room. Upon entering, he pounces on his bed and, nibbling on his donut, turns to face me.

"Well?" he asks sharply, eyes scathing, "What's your 'really serious' problem, Poor Boy?"

I sigh softly and bite my lip. Where to start? What to say? I spend several long moments in contemplation. He growls in impatience and I decide to keep it simple.

"I- I- I need help finding someone," I stutter out, nerves getting to me.

"...and who, may I ask is so important that we find?"

I lick my lips. "Death."

His eyebrows shoot upward. He has the strangest look on his face now; he looks to be somewhere between totally freaked out and quite awed. At this point I'm not sure If I should say anything to him now or wait until he himself has remembered how to speak.

I decide upon the latter. It takes only a few moments for him to regain his composure. He grins toothily at me, a dark glint in his eye.

"And what the fucking hell makes you think I'll help you, you poor piece of shit?"

I frown. His sudden hostility has me suspicious. I get the strange (but irrational, surely) feeling that he knows something of the situation. His haughty expression falters for a moment.

"Whatever you know, tell me now," I say. He knows something, I'm sure of it now. What, I have no clue... it probably isn't even important. But it could be and I need to know all that I can.

"No," his eyes narrow, "I want to know what's going on first. You barge into my house, dirty my carpet with your disgusting Welfare-contaminated shoes and start asking me about Death - I want an explanation and I want it NOW." He huffs and crosses his arms in a childish pout.

I growl softly. Here we go...