Part Six: I Really Hate 'That's What She Said' Jokes

"Oh my God, they killed Kenny!"

Stan's two-man proclamation was left only half-said. Awkwardly, he entered the room and took a few steps towards Kyle.

"Oh my God, they killed Kenny!"

The lonely phrase echoed through the room, unanswered and haunting.

"Kyle?"

There was only eerie emptiness instead of Kyle's usually indignant reply.

"Oh, my God, they, um, killed Kenny."

Stan was getting really sick of all of the awkward pauses and repetitive phrases that his town was abusing so terribly lately, so even though he was only nine, he fucked this pseudo-serious narrative up the asshole (Mephesto would be proud) and whirled his best friend around to scream in his face.

"OH MY GOD THEY KILLED KENNY!" Kyle's lips and eyelids parted open and blew around like thin rubber strips, which looked utterly ridiculous compared to the self-pitying, sulking funk Kyle was in; Stan meant well, but his earnest vocal cord force was totally killing the mood.

"OH MY GOD FATASS KILLED MY SOUL!" Kyle shot back.

"No, dude, that's not your line at all- you're s'posed to say, y'know," Stan gestured a cue for Kyle.

"Stan, can't you tell that this isn't the time for that? There are bigger things I'm worried about right now!" His voice was manic and tearful, like an underprivileged girl trying to get into an abortion clinic.

"Dude, but we ALWAYS do it now!" Stan argued.

"I don't want to!"

"C'mon!"

"Dammit, Stan, I'm not in the mood for this right now!"

"It doesn't matter- we've gotta finish it. It's happened now, so we gotta do it now!"

"No!"

"Please, Kyle! Do it for me!"

"Gah, Stan, I just- I- I'm not in the mood for this! Shit's just piling up and it's all happening way too quickly for me. I can't deal with this right now!"

"So it's big, huh?"

"It's huge, Stan! It's enormous! I didn't even know anybody could make something get that big before crap just explodes everywhere and-"

Kyle's screaming rant was broken by Token's snickering.

"I hope you guys know," Clyde began, "that was the longest 'That's What She Said' I've ever heard."

"Shit, Stan, and you had to bring these guys along as well?"

Butters popped his head into the window, his bubbly voice perfectly punctuating the overkill of drama kill with a late punch line. "That's what she said, fellas!"

Kyle dished out his complimentary "I can't believe you" stare for a good three seconds. "Stan, I'm going through something totally traumatizing right now. What in the hell did you have to bring these guys in for?" Stan held up his hands in a feeble attempt to placate his friend.

"Look, Kyle, I know you're upset, but we're all worried about you and the best way to derail Cartman is to act as normally as possible." He gave Kyle a gentle shove. "Now say it."

"No."

"Dammit, at least do it for Kenny."

"Like he cares! He's up there in heaven, probably laughing at us and doing whatever he wants! One little exclamation isn't gonna do anything for him!"

"C'mon, Kyle, settle down and do it!"

"Like hell I will!" The little redhead shoved his finger into the tip of Stan's nose and proceeded to jam it into his face for emphasis.

"Cartman just fucked with my synagogue, and now they're all replacing me with him!"

Token saw this as a golden opportunity. "Wow, did Cartman actually do your mom? Is doing Mrs. Broflovski like a family legacy, or something?"

"Shut the hell up, Token!" Kyle turned his attention back to Stan. "So like I was saying, Cartman shoved his lies down everybody's throat and—"

"Whoa, your mom deep throated him?" Clyde's nasally voice floated through the conversation.

"Dammit, Clyde! Stop saying shit about my mother!" Stan's little face, which was not what Kyle's flying spit and heated words were aimed at, received no mercy from the livid redhead's finger.

"Geez, Kyle, stop shoving your finger in my face each time you say something. You're not even talking to me right now!" Stan's poor nose was starting to bruise.

"No, Stan! I'll do whatever I want with my finger!" Kyle jabbed harder.

"That's what she said!" Token shouted.

"Kyle, what the hell! That hurts!" Stan swatted at his friend's hand. Clyde cracked another "That's what she said!" and he and Token burst into uproarious laughter.

"Too damn bad, Stan! You came in here with all this shit," Kyle used his other hand to gesture to the peanut gallery sitting at the window, "So I'm at least gonna get something out of it!"

"That's what she said!" Butters chirped, trying to get in on the hysteria by the window. Token and Clyde ignored him, still laughing.

"Why are you being such a douche? Gah, you're acting like Cartman!" Stan shook his head to deter Kyle from poking his nose.

"I am not," he put his hands down and pumped his head forward for emphasis this time, "anything like Cartman!"

Stan's patience ran out. "Are you sure? 'Cause you sure are acting like it!"

Butters chose this moment to insert an awkward "That's what she said!", but other than Token and Clyde, who were telling Butters that he was stupid because he totally had no idea what "That's what she said!" was used for, his desperate grab for attention was completely irrelevant to everything else going on. Everything else, of course, involved the Super Best Friends letting their minor squabble escalate into World War III.

"Listen, man, if you had to deal with half the shit I've gone through today, you'd wanna pound something, too!" (This particular phrase would have been a perfect "That's what she said!", but sweet little Butters had no idea what he was doing and his wiser friends were currently distracted by his naiveté.)

"That doesn't mean you have to, though!"

"No, but I can't really resist an open invitation quite like your face!"

"Oh, so, you're just gonna take out your frustration on everybody around you?" Stan was not only letting his antsy feelings of worry for Kyle skew his judgment, but he was also(both literally and figuratively) sore about the earlier nose rape Kyle had performed and didn't think to edit his next sentiments before letting them out of his mouth. "I guess it runs in the family!"

"Don't judge who's around me! Your taste in people you choose to hang around with is awful! Your girlfriend is a bitch and so is your mom!" Although Kyle actually kind of liked both women, he felt he had to sling mud on something.

In the background, the window spectators gave a collective "Ooooooh."

"So you admit he's your brother!"

Next thing anybody knew, Kyle had punched Stan in the nose. Token excused himself to go call an ambulance for Kenny.

"Dude, that wasn't even a real insult!"

"I don't care! You're being an asshole!"

"You're being a Cartman! That's even worse! That's a fat asshole!"

"I AM NOT FAT!"

Perhaps it was the dust suddenly caught in his throat, or perhaps it was the stench of the owner of the room infiltrating his nostrils, but Kyle's voice suddenly adopted the characteristic Eric indignation, which, as Stan very well knew, Kyle could not do on command. Five pairs of eyes trained themselves to the little Jew's mouth.

"Holy shit, dude, maybe you really do need some alone time." (Had Kenny been conscious, he'd have screamed to Stan that he'd told him so.)

As Stan retreated towards the window, Clyde came forward and put a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "I remember being the fattest kid in South Park." He removed his hand and followed Token down the ladder.

Butters felt he owed it to his distraught classmate to say something encouraging to Kyle as well, seeing as they were both frequent victims of the little Hitler's schemes. He fiddled with his hands for a moment and mustered up the most inspirational thing he could think of to say.

"That's what she said?" After about five seconds, Butters registered the angry looks he was getting and shrunk back to the ladder like a beaten dog.

Stan was, of course, still the last one to go. He gave Kyle a pointed look before finally hopping over the windowsill. Kyle watched him go.

"Oh, God," he looked up at the ceiling, "What should I do?"


It had kind of been like a kiddie softball game- it wouldn't have really mattered if the annual Screwing of the Kyle maneuver had been a success or not because they'd all go out for ice cream afterwards anyway, but this time Eric had been the MVP (on a team of one.) Not only that, he surmised that he'd managed to convince the other team to jump covenant and switch sides over to his dugout and then he had used the commotion to trample his sole competition. He'd done it so well that the previously opposing team now sitting with him in the ice cream parlor (as predicted) and recounting some of his most choice plays.

By opposing team, he meant Jewish Community. And by choice plays, he meant merciless wordplay of the Hebrew language. And by commotion, he meant he'd totally decimated Kyle on his home turf.

Man, baseball comparisons were kickass today.

"So, Kyle," began the rabbi, licking at his rum raisin, "What do you plan to do with your almost miraculously messianic ability to read Hebrew? Are you going to devote your life to speaking to the Chosen People and inspiring them?"

One would have expected sly Eric to reply with some humanitarian bullshit that'd do most parents proud, but anyone who expected that kind of thing severely underestimated his manipulative prowess. Meaning, since the humanitarian route was everyone's expectation, that Eric Cartman was much slicker than thought humanly possible.

"I'm but a humble child of God. I can't possibly impose my gift upon others and make them do my bidding by tricking them- what if I make a mistake or falsely represent Him?" His reptilian smile would have made Darth Vader's breath go on mute. "For now, I just want to spend time with my beloved mother."

Sheila took the bait and let Eric percolate into every family quirk and secret the Broflovskis had, and Eric blended in perfectly so he could suck the marrow out of all the things Kyle had never mentioned- including baby pictures. He even stomached the awful Jew-tainted cooking he was served without adding two extra sticks of butter and some pop tarts to every meal. He grinned between mouthfuls of rye bread (the grossest stuff on earth) and wondered how the real Kyle was dealing with a weekend full of shit weather and Mexican Train while he was learning everything Kyle had never wanted him to know.


Kenny opened his eyes in the hospital and found Butters and Stan standing there in front of him.

"Hey, Kenny! How are you? It was a false alarm- you didn't actually die this time, you just got knocked out and a couple of bones broken." Butters grinned. "In'nit great?"

Kenny cursed and slipped back under the covers. The warm glow of Heaven had already worn off.