Liebende Rückblende
By SEGAMew
Disclaimer:
South Park and all related characters are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, because they are geniuses and I'm not.
Any historical persons that appear in this work of fiction are loosely based of their real life counterpart and possibly portrayed poorly. Reader discretion is advised.
There is no plans to include any OCs/FCs in this fanfiction. So don't worry if you're anti OC/FC. If there are to be any OC/FC, they will be only background characters with probably a few unmemorable lines.
Last Time in Liebende Rückblende Ch. 6:
Kyle learns that nice SS exists.
Dr. Münch learns that Kyle's blood type is the extremely rare AB-.
Cartman learns that Kenny has no flashback memories to reference back to.
Kenny learns that his black triangle badge makes him hardcore (according to Cartman).
Pairings: Kyman (Kyle x Cartman) and others that will be revealed in later chapters (absolutely no fan pairings)
Warnings: M for harsh language and horrendous gratuitous acts of violence. No lemon/smut/stuff like that because I'm horrible at writing such things. There will be mild lime and adult situations however. I mean come on, it's a South Park fanfic!
Chapter 7: Morgen (Morning)
Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (His Private SS Quarters located in Crematorium II)
Cartman's POV
(Time: 02:30 the following morning after the end of the last chapter)
Ring.
Ring..
Ring...
RINGRINGRINGRING
I reached out from my bed and slammed the annoying as fuck alarm clock against the wall. Why can't fucking alarm clocks ever sound not annoying as fuck? Christ... I got off my bed and headed for the washroom. It's so inconvenient, the washroom is the next to my room on my right (the SS barracks is next door to my room on the left). I entered and pushed a small crate in front of the sink, stepped up, and commence my morning rituals. While brushing my teeth, I looked at myself in the mirror. Ugh, fucking bags under my eyes. I didn't get to sleep until late last night due to the Kenny situation. The asshole couldn't wake up earlier and I couldn't just leave him like that. Of course it would be easier to leave him but...well I couldn't leave him, alright?
I splashed water onto my face and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I hated the smell and feel of this water, I'm used to the water out of my faucet in South Park, it's all filtered and stuff. The water here just smells kinda like pond or something. Not Stark's Pond-like either.
I combed my hair neatly and returned to my room. I put on my uniform while checking myself on the wall mirror. I didn't bother ironing them last night, but they look fine. Whatever. I ate a light breakfast consisting of some soup, sausage, and buttered toast. Downed all that with a cup of the nonMountain Spring tasting water from the tap. I coughed, then wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Afterwards, I tossed my cup and plate in a bucket (I use this to store my used kitchenware so I can exchange it for a new set in the kitchen), grabbed my peaked cap on my nightstand, and left my room.
I was wonderfully greeted by the freezing ass cold Poland air as I stepped out from Crematorium II. Even during the summer, the nights are cold as fuck. The chilly air tickled my chest, causing me to cough in my hand. I pulled my sleeve back to check my watch. It reads 3:10 am. Morning roll call is at 4:30 am so I have like over an hour to get the Jewfag ready.
I traveled down the path towards the guard shack at the entrance of Camp F. After checking in, I headed towards the hospital barracks. Upon entering, I placed my peaked cap on the rack. The interior is lit only by the skylight panels on the ceiling. Well it's night time now so actually, the only thing lighting up the place is moonlight and watchtower searchlights. Even so, it's not hard to spot the Jew's green headgear. Why does that fag sleep with it on, seriously? I don't sleep with my cap on, fuck that. I walked over to his bed and thought about the best way to wake his ass up. Maybe pull on his faggy Jewfro. I slipped my fingers under the side of his hat but for some reason, instead of gripping it, I run my fingers deeper into his curls. It has a sort of springy feel when you push down. Wait, why am I fascinated by his fucking hair? With my other hand, I touched my own straight hair. I know my hair is awesome as hell, but even I can be bored of it at times. I had highlights in my hair and spiked it up one time. I really liked it but it's a bitch maintaining that look so I stopped after a week. I pulled is hat off, it's amazing how much of his hair stays 100% hidden under it. What's more amazing is how he didn't wake up, it's not like I took his hat off gently or anything. I stroked his hair some more before glancing at my watch, which reads 3:35 now. I yawned and sit myself at the end of his bed lying down with my lower legs dangling off. I need a quick power nap, it's too fucking early and the dumb Jew doesn't need more than five minutes to get ready. I put the green hat I was still holding under my head and closed my eyes. The dumb thing even smells like the Jew.
Location: Hell's Pass Hospital
Christophe's POV
I made a point to ignore Monsieur Gregory until he apologizes for that remark about the people of my country. We are a proud nation but God selected us to be the butt of all his sick jokes. 'The French are cowards.' 'The French fight only on the sidelines.' 'The French smoke a lot.' 'The French are rude, selfish people.' The nerve of these stereotypes written by that asshole called God! This is why everyone are bitches, God's bitches for they follow his decree and believe anything he says.
My joke of a group are walking down the hallways of Hell's Pass Hospital to visit the ugly fat one, the one in constant poverty, and the unfortunate Jewish one who are all apparently in a coma. I personally don't care enough to learn what their names are, especially the ugly fat one. Something in the back of my mind tells me that he is one you absolutely can't depend on. You see right here, is the reason why God is an ass fucking dick. The French one, moi, gets called a coward, which I am not. But he, the most name calling he ever been subjected to is being called a fatass, which is true.
Anyway, the member of the group not in a coma wants to join us just in case his group members don't wake up. I don't care either way, Monsieur Gregory would probably appreciate another nonFrench member in the group.
We entered the room to find the Monsieur Marsh watching some sort of television program. The monitor is a bit peculiar though, it has more than one antenna poking out at the top and there are various cables hooked up to a variety of other machinery in the room. The other members of my group greeted him, but I didn't. I really don't have any business to be here, I'm something like a tag-a-long. No, it's NOT the same as that French stereotype of always fighting on the sidelines. I pulled up one of the cheap hospital chairs by an even cheaper desk and sat down. I pulled out a pack of my cigarettes and my lighter. Leopold saw me and frowned.
"Oh um... You shouldn't be smokin' in here, Christophe..."
I leaned against the chair after putting an unlit cigarette in my mouth, "Excusez-moi, I am not zmoking. Does zis look like I am zmoking to you?"
Leopold did that annoying hand knuckle rub he usually does when he's nervous, "N-no, I guess not...sorry."
"One more zing. Do not call me by my christened name my foolish mother gave me."
"But doesn't Gregory call you that?"
I stared firmly, "To you, I am ze Mole."
"O-okay..."
Leopold went back to converse with the group. While I didn't interact with them, I keep my eyes and ears opened. Not because the French are cowards who escape at the first sound or sight of danger, but because intel collection is another one of my many specialties.
As I listened to the group, I obtained information that the equipment in the room are unique experimental equipment that reads the dreams of people and outputs what they're dreaming onto a monitor. That explains somewhat why the monitor is showing an image of the fat one donned in that despicable uniform. It figures he would be the one to enjoy something sick that like that and dream about it. Also another nugget of information I gathered is that if someone dies in the dream, they die for real. I'm sure God will get a laugh out of learning what are their causes of death when they see him.
Leopold and Gregory seemed to be concerned about them dying, especially Leopold. Them he suggested something incredibly asinine.
"Um... Could we save them by havin' the Mole infiltrate the flashback and pull 'em out somehow?"
I shook my head, "No, I will not do zomething zo utterly stupeed."
Gregory sighed, "I'm afraid sending a someone into a Nazi operated concentration camp is suicide," He looked at me with a smirk forming on his lips, "...especially a Frenchman."
I stood up from my chair, causing a screeching noise as it suddenly slide against the floor. The loud noise made Leopold flinch.
"I 'ave you know zat I abzolutely despize guard dogs. Ezpecially German fucking Shepards zat every zingle military of ze world zeems to love uzing!"
Monsieur Marsh spoke next, "How do you guys understand him at all?"
Gregory shrugged, "As someone who has worked with him for years, you get accustomed to it. His accent and his French cowardice both."
I clenched my fist and almost bit off the cigarette in my mouth. I yelled out "Va te faire foutre!" and stormed out the room.
Butter's POV
Oh geez, Christophe looks awful sore. What did he hollered out I wonder? It doesn't sound very pleasant at all. I headed towards the door.
"Maybe I should talk to him."
Gregory however walked in front of me, "No, I'll speak with him."
I rubbed my knuckles, "You sure? I mean, you two haven't been gettin' along."
"We'll be fine. I know how to talk to him."
"Well if you say so..."
Gregory left the room. I turned around and took a seat by Kenny's bed. His trademarked hood is pulled down but his head and face is all bandaged up. He kinda looks like one of those mummies on the History Channel. You can still see some of his blonde hair sticking out though. Stan told me that Kenny jumped out the window to force himself into a coma so he can help Eric and Kyle out of the flashback. But it doesn't seem like it's going as planned. I was thinking an expert like Christophe could do something like Kenny was trying to do, but he doesn't seem interested at all. I'm really worried about my friends. I want to help them...
Location: Auschwitz II - Birkenau (Hospital Barracks)
Kyle's POV
I've been sleeping all day yesterday so I couldn't really sleep later that night. I closed my eyes and doze in and out, but I wasn't really doing the whole REM sleeping thing.
I heard the door opened and shut in the middle of the night...well I think it was the middle of the night. I kept my eyes closed and feigned sleep, I didn't want to deal with whomever is in the room...
...
..
.
And of course, this whomever was standing right by my bed, and definitely reeks of Nazi aura. Though, it kind of smells familiar too. This person slipped his hand under my ushanka and stroked my hair. The hand is sort of small, like a kid's.
Wait, a kid?
Whoever this person is, they yanked my ushanka off, felt up my hair some more, and sat at the end of my bed. Eventually they laid down and stopped moving. I heard them snoring lightly. This snore was also very familiar...
I opened my eyes and sat up to see Cartman sleeping at the end of my bed and using my ushanka as a damn pillow. What the fuck? And why was this fatass feeling up my hair?! I grabbed the top of my Jewfro with both hands and blushed while thinking of all sorts of reasons why would he. Most of the reasons were so gay, I refused to acknowledge them.
Pushing the thoughts aside, why was Cartman here? I was about to wake him up but then decided against it. I don't really want a knife in my other arm, fuck that. So I sat there and watch him sleep. How can he sleep with that uniform on? It has to feel uncomfortable with that belt (which sits over his outer shirt and not his pants, talk about German fashion statement) and all that shit he has on it. It even makes me uncomfortable looking at all that. It wouldn't be surprising if he actually has his pistol somewhere on him right now. I cringed thinking about it, so I decided to do something. I scooted closer to him and began undoing his belt. Wait, how the hell do I undo this thing? It's just the circular buckle with the Nazi eagle symbol with a clapse on both sides of it, and both have the leather belt looped in it. How the fuck do I undo this?! This is way different than the normal American belts I'm used to... Belts belong on pants.
Well I give up. With only one arm in fully working order, it's not worth the effort. I turned my attention to my ushanka that his fat head is on top of. Out of all the things in the room, he had to use my ushanka as a damn pillow? Then I remembered him touching my hair. Why was he doing it? Does it look weird? My Flashback Mom had a darker red hair so maybe my hair closer to that...
I gasped and held my head. It's that depressed feeling again. Why the hell does it come up every time I think about my Flashback Parents?! No...it comes up when I remind myself that they are dead. They're not real so why the hell it's affecting me like they are? I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms on top and laid my head in them. I have to push these feelings away before Cartman wakes up. The last thing I needed was him going-
"Aw, why are you cryin', Jewfag?"
Damn it.
I didn't lift my head off my arms, "Fuck off, I'm not crying."
My head was pulled out of my arms by the fatass. I really wasn't crying, and even if I was, there's no way he could tell with the extremely dim lighting in the room. Cartman snorted and shoved my ushanka back onto my head.
"If you're gonna be a fag and cry about it, you can have the damn thing back."
I pulled down on the dog ear flaps of my ushanka, "You're an asshole."
"Says the one who was tryin' to undo mah belt."
I looked away embarrassingly, "I was trying to see if you had a loaded gun."
"Of course I have a loaded gun, I'm a fuckin' SS."
He threw something out in front of me and I looked down. I jumped backwards when I saw that it was the pistol he said he was carrying. The fuck, he could have gotten me shot or worst! He put it back into his holster.
"Unlike morons you see in action films and in real life, I only turn the safety off if I intend to blast someone's brains. Though..." He eyed me, "...tryin' to undo mah fucking belt is a good enough reason to."
"Okay geez, I'm sorry okay? I'm not comfortable with you sleeping on my bed with a fucking loaded gun on you."
He rolled his eyes, "The fuckin' safety is on, you dumb Jew."
I sighed, "Whatever. Why are you here in the middle of the night?"
"Didn't that asshole SS doctor tell you? I'm assignin' you to your workin' party."
"Dude, what time is it?!"
He pulled up a sleeve to check his watch, "Almost 4 o' clock. Roll call starts in half an hour."
My eyes went wide, "FOUR?!"
He rubbed his ears, "Any louder and you might be able to wake the dead in this room. Anyway c'mon, I'll take you to the sauna to wash up, then take you to your station."
"Dude, it's fucking four in the morning..." Wait, did he say 'sauna'?
He got his cap and placed it back on his head and opened the door, "I'm well fuckin' aware, now hurry your ass up. Fuckin' wastin' mah time."
The fatass left the room. I held my head and shook off any lingering sleepy feelings, then got off the bed and headed to the exit. I flinched when I felt how cold it was outside as I opened the door and stepped out. I kind of want to go back under the sheets where it was slightly warmer. I shut the door and faced Cartman, who was facing away from me and coughing into his sleeve. I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, dude. Are you okay?"
He cleared his throat before replying, "Yeah, it's nothin'. The cold pisses me off in the mornin'. Follow me."
The cold pisses him off? Don't we kinda live in a pissant mountain town that is forever cast in some sort of permanent winter? Whatever. I followed him further into the camp. I saw various inmates and SS roaming about. Not a whole lot, but enough to notice them. The inmates look so depressed, unsurprisingly. I would be depressed too if I have to wake up four in the morning to get ready for roll call. Fuck, I would probably shoot myself if it wasn't against my religion.
After Cartman spoke with the SS guard on duty, we exited the fenced in area of the hospital section and took a left down the dirt path. We walked past between two red bricked buildings with tall chimneys then eventually took another left. Soon we arrived at a another red brick building, but this one has considerably more windows and chimneys than the previous building we passed.
Cartman walked up to a door and unlocked it, "C'mon, we don't have all mornin'."
"No need to remind me how fat you are."
The fatass pulled me in and tried to throw me on the floor. Luckily I caught myself before my face landed on the concrete floor. Cartman locked the door and turned on the indoor lights. He went to a corner of the room where there were a couple wooden tables and boxes over. He motioned me over while he opened a box and got out a piece of paper and a pen. He turned to me and handed them over.
"Fill this out."
I glanced at it and frowned, "Dude, I can't understand this, it's in German."
He looked at the paper, "You have a problem with German, you fuckin' Jew?"
"Uh yeah, I can't fucking understand German."
The fatass scoffed and set the paper on the table and uncapped the pen. He pointed at a line, "Your last name then first one. Obviously I'm talkin' about your flashback ones. You have one, right?"
I took a few moments to recall, "It's Ezekiel...Ezekiel Bartkiewicz."
Cartman threw the pen at me, "Fuck, this is why I wanted you to fill it out! How the hell am I supposed to spell Ezekiel Barfsandwich?!"
I bent over to pick up the abused pen on the floor, "Hey, I didn't pick my name! Plus, your name isn't exactly easy on the tongue either!"
"At least mah first name is still Eric. And it's not ten thousand letters long!" Cartman took the pen from my hands and scribbled on the paper, "You're now Kiel B."
I read his awful handwriting, "Are you trying to make my name Kill Bill or some shit? Gimme that pen!"
I pulled the pen from his fat fingers and added the rest of my flashback last name. I decided to just leave my first name as Kiel since he didn't leave me much room to fix it on paper. Oddly enough, I know how to spell my last name.
"Okay, Cartman, what's the next line say?"
"Born on, and the line beside that is asking when were you born."
"How the hell am I supposed to know?"
"I'll let you in on a little secret... We don't really give a shit when you're birthday is."
"Ugh... Okay um..."
I wrote down 'May 26, 1934'. Dude that would make me super old in real life! But I'm not sure where was I born... I guess I'll go back to that later.
Cartman read the next one with a little difficulty, "I'm not totally sure about the next one. Probably asking what sex position or somethin'."
I read the word he's having issues with, "What does 'Stand' mean on its own?"
"Stupid, it has a lot of meanings."
I scratched the side of my head with the bottom of the pen, "I think... it's asking for martial status, because the block next to it asks 'Kinder', that's German for kids, right?"
"Whatever."
I sighed and put in "single" and "0" for the number of kids. Cartman suddenly took the pen and scribbled out "single" with "ledig".
"Okay it wants your last place of residence."
"Well normally I would say South Park, Colorado..." I then noticed him writing 'Ghetto', "What the fuck, dude?!"
He flashed me a smarmy smirk, "Well, 'Kiel', if you have a better answer, let meh know," He read off the next line, "Okay, so next two are religion and nationality. I'm gonna put...stupid Jew in both."
I punched him the shoulder, but not hard or anything. I'm really fed up with this racist prick. He whined in pain and rubbed his shoulder. He took the paper and pen and shoved it on one of his pockets.
"Fuck you, Jewfag! I'll fill the rest in for you, whatever!"
Cartman looked past behind me, presumably at another corner where my next adventure awaits.
"We're goin' down this corridor, come."
I grumbled as I followed the fatass through the corridor. To my left there are ton of windows, probably the same ones I saw earlier. To my right, I see some brick walled structures with entrances or something leading to another room. It was pretty dark so I can't tell what is in those rooms.
At the end of the corridor is a smaller room. From the corner of my eye, I think I spotted all sorts of sharp tools such as razors and scissors. I paled, imagining what sorts of torture went on in this room.
"Hey, Jew."
I turned my attention to Cartman and flinched when I saw him holding a pair of scissors.
"Remember that time when we joined the Blaintology Cult?
"Dude, we mustn't talk about that."
"Psh, whatever, it's not like The Super Best Friends was the highlight of that day!"
Cartman opened and closed the scissors as if testing it, then looked towards my hat... well more like my hair.
"Your faggy Jewfro has to go."
I gripped firmly on the flaps of my ushanka,"So that the fucking Nazis can sell it? Fuck you!"
Cartman glared at me, I glared back. After a short while, he tossed the scissors on the floor.
"These scissors are super crappy anyway. It's worst than usin' left-handed scissors. Let's go."
We moved on to the next room. Above the entrance there is a writing that says "Untersuchungsraum". Huh, wonder what that means? There is a small wooden table and a chair off in the corner.
Cartman went over to the chair and sat on it, facing me, "All right, Jewfag, strip."
I hesitated, but eventually raised my fingers to the top button of my coat. Cartman made no effort to give me a little privacy.
"Um... do you mind?"
He rested his elbow on the table and put his head on the palm of his hand. He yawned before answering, "Nope, don't mind at all. Proceed, Jew."
I frowned, my cheeks glowing red. What the fuck, is he going to watch me undress? I turned around so my back is facing him and started to undo my coat. It is proving a bit difficult since my injured arm still hurts like a bitch. I doubt Cartman is going to rewrap it either.
Cartman impatiently whined, "Geez, Kahl, don't be a little pussy and hurry the fuck up. It's not like I haven't seen your damn circumcised dick before!"
"Fuck you, fatass! It's hard to do this with one arm, okay?!"
I heard the sounds of rapid bootsteps and was spun around, now facing Cartman. He flashed me a look I didn't quite catch and began unbuttoning my coat. Before I got the chance to complain, he pulled my coat off and threw it on the table. He grabbed my ushanka and tossed that on top of the coat, then pushed my head down so I'm bending over towards him. He pulled on the bottom of my shirt and yanked it over my head, adding it to the pile of clothes.
"Kick your shoes off."
I did as he asked without thinking much about it. However, I was caught off guard when he immediately pants me as soon as my shoes are off. Now I'm totally nude in front of my on and off nemesis. Who is wearing an SS uniform. I covered my face with my good hand in disbelief.
He placed a bar of soap in my hands (when did he grab a bar of soap?!) and smacked my butt towards the doorway with the word 'brausen' written at the top, "Hit the showers, you dirty Jew. You have two minutes to shower now since you wasted a lot of time already."
I stepped into a rectangular room about double the size of the room I was just in. Looking up towards the ceiling, there are steel pipes running across everywhere with shower heads dangling down.
I yelped when freezing cold water hit me suddenly. I jumped backwards and away out of the line of cold fire. I wanted to wait for it to warm up but I felt a sharp pain on my back. I cried out and turned around to see Cartman holding his riding crop with disgustingly smug look on his fat face.
"Aaaw is the water too cold for the wittle Jew? Too fuckin' bad. There's no hot water runnin' through these pipes right now so get used to it."
I growled at him, then turned around and stood under the water. I used the anger building up inside me to distract me from the cold water as I soap myself up. The gauze wrap on my arm unraveled and fell down, drenched from the water. I gasped and held my arm as the soapy suds made contact with the wound. This morning sucks so much. So fucking much.
"You know, Kahl. You're lucky you got the entire shower room to yourself right now. Normally these are packed with about a hundred new arrivals from all over Europe."
I let out a shaky breath, "Lucky me..."
Cartman walked closer, but avoiding the water, and aimed his crop towards me.
"Though, knowin' the little filthy Jew slut you are, you probably love it when other Jewish men look at your soft juicy Jew body. Mmmm yeah, I'm sure they'll love to stare at Kahl for he is very..." he traced the tip of his crop along the edge of my cheek and stopped under my chin, tilting my head so he could look at my face, "...wunderhübsch."
He swiftly turned around and walked back into the room before I could process what he just said. My mind is just so fucked right now from the cold and the Cartman overexposure.
The water shut off as suddenly as it turned off. Cartman's voice called out to me from the exit end of the shower room.
"C'mon, move your Jew ass! You should be thankful I gave you a full five minutes worth of shower time under that freezin' water. Everyone else gets about a minute."
I gladly headed towards the exit while hugging myself to retain whatever warmth I have left. I was shaking harder than Tweak on his worst days, and that's saying something. I stepped through to the next room and was wrapped in a not so soft towel.
"We're almost done here."
Cartman escorted me down a corridor that is almost the same as the other one. There are windows to my left but the brick walls and entrance aren't present on my right. I shook my head in an attempt to fling the water out while still hugging myself in the towel as I follow him.
We stopped into a room that's a slightly smaller than the first room of this building, but still was huge. He walked towards the left side of the room and pulled out the famed striped pajamas prisoner's outfit from a storage closet. He came back and threw it on the floor.
"Get dressed."
He leaned against a wall and watched me, this time with a riding crop in his hand. Ugh, is he serious? Not wanting to get hit by that stupid thing again, I rubbed myself with the towel to dry up the best I could... which isn't good at all. I winched every time I moved my left arm wrong, it stings so bad. It's been less than 48 Holocaust time hours since he fucking stabbed me. A little bit of blood seeped out from the cut now. Frustrated, I sat on the floor with the towel over my head and shivered from the coldness, intensified from my nudity and dripping wet in icy cold water.
I heard Cartman's footsteps approaching me. I braced myself for the inevitable crop attack, but it never came. My towel was removed from my head and draped over my shoulders and back. He then sat down and held my hips and positioned me so my back was pressed against his body (with a towel separating us so we didn't actually touch). Immediately I felt warmer with his body heat against me. I shivered less, probably less than Tweak levels.
"Gimme your arm, Kahl. The one I stabbed."
I move my left arm towards him and he held it with one hand. With the other hand, he pulled out a handkerchief from one of his shirt pockets and wrapped it around my arm. He was oddly gentle as he did so. The complete opposite of when he inflicted the wound two days ago. Maybe he felt bad he stabbed me? I can't read his expression from here. Suddenly I am reminded of that one time when I got a bad case of carpel tunnel and he massaged Ben-Gay onto my wrist. He was oddly gentle back then too. But then again, I was in so much pain I probably wouldn't be able to tell if he was being rough with the Ben-Gay application.
After he finished the wrap with a knot, I pulled my arm away to inspect it. It's pretty decently wrapped. Guess he learned something at boy scouts after all. I muttered a 'thanks', he responded back with a simple nod. I was about to stand back up when he wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned his head against the back of my neck. My face flushed, what was Cartman doing?
"Dude?"
"...wunderhübsch..."
That word again, where does Cartman learn all this German anyway? Or better yet, any other language he seems to conveniently know? He's not poor like Kenny, but I can't picture his poor mom buying Rosetta Stone for all the major languages.
"You're a little Jewslut, y'know, Kahl?"
I blinked, "H-huh?"
He took his arms off my waist and got up. I almost whimpered when the warmth left my body. He took the towel and kicked the prisoner smock at me, then returned to his leaning position against the wall
"Do you like mah strong arms around you, Kahl? Mah big boned body against your back? Me whisperin' tender things in your little Jew ears?" He grinned, "Usually you would go into your little Jew fits well before that point."
"S-shut your fat face, Cartman!"
"You have one minute to put your new cloths on."
Well, it's not much to put on. Just a loose fitting button up striped shirt and pants. Made similar to pajamas but the material sucks, like a potato sack or something. It's easier to put on now that I'm not shaking like a human vibrator. My hair is still wet but it's not as bad as before. I felt something tossed at my bare feet. Looking down I saw my shoes, so I put them back on. I looked around to see where the rest of my cloths are.
"Dude, where's my cloths?"
"You won't need those anymore. They're gonna be disposed of."
I glared at him, "What?! No way, they're mine!"
He pointed his crop towards me, "Jews aren't allowed personal property without proper authorization. You're lucky enough I'm allowin' you to keep your shoes."
I clenched my fist, "Why can't you authorize me to have my cloths then?"
"Because fuckin' kikes don't need them, understood?"
I nearly attacked him for calling me that extremely offensive term. However, I only took a step forward when I remembered back to what happened when I attacked that SS doctor on day one. I backed away holding my injured arm and looked down, away from Cartman.
I answered quietly, "I-I... understand."
He paused, then marched right up in front of me and grabbed my hair. I cried out as he pulled so I was looking at him.
"What was that, Jewfag?"
I tried to think, what's wrong with my answer? Then it occurred to me that he probably wants me to address his rank. I looked straight into his hazel eyes and voiced my response with more confidence.
"I understand, Scharführer Fuhrmann."
Cartman smiled and let go, "See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"
Actually it was, that rank combined with that damn name is just begging to be a tongue twister.
"Wait here."
Cartman went back into that corridor. A minute or two later he returned with my beloved ushanka and put it on my head.
"You look less of a retard with this anyway, 'Kiel'."
Notes from SEGAMew_
Well, I did it, I redid Chapter 7! I was unhappy with how I did it the first time so I rewrote nearly everything with a little more historical accuracy as humanely possible! Don't worry, all the hot scenes are still there :) Just added substantially more fluff between Cartman and Kyle, making this chapter the longest so far!
Don't worry, I still have the original Chapter 7 saved on my laptop. Maybe I'll upload it separately somewhere or something.
Also, I changed a few things in all the previous chapters so it reads better and the layout of the camp makes more sense. Some scenes were altered slightly so I recommend all of you to re-read Chapters 1-6 if you have previously read them prior to June 23, 2014.
Christophe is an interesting character to write for. By interesting, I mean almost a blank slate. All we know from his movie appearance is that he hates God, guarddogs, and being grounded. And he smokes a lot. So I decided to add more to his personality and have him react negatively to being stereotyped, especially by Gregory. Also, sorry for all you Gregory fans if I portray Gregory as an asshole! He sorta was with his 4.0 grade average and good looks. Gregory was even less to work with. I liked Pip better as the Englishman/Gentleman of South Park. Right-O!
Remember to comment, review, critique, complain, whatever!
Translation Notes_
Excusez-moi - Excuse me or pardon me.
Va te faire foutre! - Basically "Fuck off!" in French
Stand - Status. The form is indeed asking for your martial status.
Ledig - Single/Unmarried
Kinder - Children
Untersuchungsraum - Examination Room
Brausen - Shower
Wunderhübsch - Wonderfully pretty. Cartman actually says Kyle is wunderhübsch in the Funnybot episode as well :)
Replies to Reviewers_
_symphknot - Some form of kyman came! What do you think? :)
_Marty - Kenny and Cartman Super Best Friendship... Maybe there is, maybe there isn't, wait and see ;)
_AriJustAri - Ha I figured it was you! And thanks~
_Guest (ooo a mystery person!) - Maybe my story will upgrade Kyman into an OTP for you bwahaha...
_YetAnotherGirl - Ghetto Kenny makes the best Kenny! He doesn't come off as a hick like his parents are to me =P
_deathNspikes - That Cartman, he's such a little joker! As for how will the Kyman be integrated, it shall be integrated overtime, evolving as the story evolves. A little bit could be interpreted right in this very chapter!
