-1Here comes Kyle angst-fest. Watch as Cartman gets exceedingly more pissed off about it! Remember kids, an angst-filled Kyle is near impossible to argue with. And we all know how much Cartman loves that!

"Wednesdays are the worst." I said, just to piss Kenny off. "Just shut up, man." Mission accomplished. I heard footsteps dragging their way toward us. "So, Kahl, finally decided to drag your-" I stopped, taking in Kyle's appearance. "Dude! You look awful." Kenny said. "I'm fine." Came the weak response. I could hold it in no longer… I burst out laughing, "You… you look like… Tweek on a coffee deprivation!" And he did, with those bags under his eyes, weirdly buttoned shirt, and apparent inability to bear the weight of his own skinny ass. Kyle glared at me. "Where's Stan?"

"He's always late." Kenny said. A minute later a snow-covered Stan came jogging up. "What happened to you?"

"Fell. What happened to you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." Liar, what about last night's little call, hm? There's obviously something wrong with you. "Okay, we were just getting worried about you, or at least Kenny and I were."

"Just a cold." Screw that, you're not sick. "Oh, okay." Super-Awesome-Best-Friends my ass. Even I can tell he's lying. Whatever, I don't think I really care, anyways, I thought, boarding the bus that just pulled up.

School was rather amusing with Kyle's random screw-ups. He had forgotten when and where his classes were, so he had to follow Stan around like a lost puppy for the first four periods. Then Kyle had to borrow some of Stan's money for lunch, because he forgot his own, (I suggested he use his Jew Gold, but all I got for my helpfulness was an elbow in the ribs) and when he paid for lunch, he left it up at the counter. He didn't bother to go back up and get it. But the amusement stopped at the last two periods, the ones I had with him. At first, it was still funny: Stan had different English and World History classes, so Kyle had to follow me instead. Just to piss him off, I threw an arm around his shoulders. "What do you think you're doing?" He snarled. I smirked, "I wouldn't want my little Jew pup getting lost, now would I?" He glared at me, and I allowed him to shrug my arm off. We entered Mrs. Bradford's class. Mrs. Bradford was pretty cool. She encouraged class discussion about our current core novels and short stories. And since she abhorred any sort of banning of the English language, she allowed us to cuss while we did it. Normally Kyle and I squabbled back and forth in these discussions, but it was intelligent squabbling, so Mrs. Bradford allowed it. Mine and Kyle's seats were the farthest they could possibly be from each other, Mrs. Bradford had learned it was best that way. Our current unit was one of my favorites: the Holocaust. And what was even better, was that Mrs. Bradford, who was a strong believer in getting both sides of the story, decided we've already heard enough of the Jewish point of view, and decided to read books and stories through the Nazi's eyes. All I knew was that it pissed Kyle off and it made me a very happy Neo-Nazi. "Cartman, why don't you start us off today." Mrs. Bradford asked, "In chapter eleven, why do you think the H.J. let that Jew go?" I sighed, I rather disliked that scene. "Well, personally, I think it was because he is a traitorous little chicken-shit."

"How so?" She asked me. "It was his duty as a soldier to protect the Fatherland by destroying the enemy. And since the Nazis believed the Jews were the enemy, for the Hitler Jugen to have let the Jew go, he was essentially betraying his country. I don't think he was feeling any sort of sudden morality, he was simply to squeamish to kill someone. So, in short, he is now a traitor to his country because he was to frightened to kill the enemy during the war." Yeah, that little speech ought to have ruffled his feathers, any moment now… Now, here's where it stops being funny. "I disagree with Cartman. I think the Hitler Youth was starting to feel some degree of sympathy. I mean he was young enough not to have been completely brainwashed by the Nazis." You see, that was exactly the kind of response I was hoping for, but it wasn't Kyle who said it. It had been that idiot, Bradley. There was mostly preps and jocks in this class, so the resulting conversation was pretty shallow and barely within the subject. Mrs. Bradford looked rather disappointed that Kyle and I seemed to have suddenly become shy. In desperation to add some intelligence to the brainless chitter-chatter that was floating around the classroom, she called on Kyle to put his views in. She was probably thinking something along the lines of: There, now we'll get something worth talking about. Unfortunately, she was to be disappointed. "I don't know." He responded. Kyle and I were silent for the rest of the class, and poor Mrs. Bradford, for the life of her, could not figure out what was going on. To say the least, I was pretty pissed off. I tore off a strip of binder paper and scribbled angrily: "History class next. Room 810." And dropped the note on Kyle's desk as I left.