Kenny knew today would be a good day.
He woke up this morning to the sound of the garbage truck knocking over the two tin cans he set out the night before. He knew he should be mad that the cans were knocked over, once again, but he was thankful to just wake up to a noise that isn't well…noise.
Craig's letters has taught him to enjoy the little things in life. Kenny doesn't think it's just the letters. Craig has always taught him to slow down, take a minute to care about things a little more.
Of course, back in grade school, Craig certainly had a different way of showing it, but thinking about it now, Craig's crude, rude, and mean remarks really spoke to Kenny.
Kenny once told Craig that he reminded him of Kyle. Kenny can remember Craig's snort of disgust. He gets it. Cartman has constantly been the class bully and say-all since third grade, and Stan has constantly "excelled" or "Stan'd Up" for what he believed was good the for class, most always ending in some type of destruction or death.
Kenny's death specifically.
But there is no real reason for Craig to hate Kyle. Kyle was the voice of reason, the hopeful second thought for most of the adventure they went on. Kyle was different from the two stronger personalities Kenny followed. Kyle still listened to Kenny. If anything, Kyle spoke to Kenny like he wasn't some piece of trash that was always dying. When Kenny asked Craig what he didn't like about Kyle a long silence followed.
After that, Kenny and Craig finished their blunt and went for a swim, not another word was mentioned.
Getting Craig to budge on anything was near impossible. The one small victory Kenny had was begging him to try tuna. He finally placed a small piece on his saltine and took a bite.
It's still pretty unclear if Craig liked it or not.
Kyle and Craig might've seemed like an unlikely pair to a lot of their friends, but Kenny definitely isn't a normal friend to either. Neither one of them danced around the subject of Kenny and his life, but they both dealt with it in their own ways. If anything, it was the bit of cynicism in Kyle's voice he would use with Kenny and only Kenny.
It reminded him of that little bit of compassion in Craig's that he would use only with Kenny.
Ken,
We recently took a moment of silence to 'remember' and to 'reflect' on the crimes we've committed. They chained us up and walked us out of our cells and lined us up facing each other.
Really, Ken, I have no idea if these guys are my cellmates, we've never seen each other before.
Paired us up and chained us together. Had us talk to one another. My guy told me its to honor some Jewish holiday or practice or something like that. No idea how to spell what we were celebrating. The type of name that when you said it, it was like you were trying to get rid of that itch in the back of your throat.
Really, neither one of us said anything, but that got me thinking about something else Jewish.
Kyle Brofloski.
Remember that time when you told me to give Kyle a chance? That he wasn't like Stan and Cartman, but to think of him like a Jewish version of you? God Ken, now that almost made me laugh.
But there I was, at one of Token's parties that just everyone had to be at, searching for Clyde because it was after midnight, and Clyde after midnight turns into some sort of beast.
None of that werewolf bullshit, I'm talking a drunk blubbering, vomiting, mess.
I can find Clyde inside the house, in a room, door closed with a girl hostage that probably was down for a little freaky Clyde beast at the beginning of the night. Or I can find him hugging a bush outside next to what he thinks is the pool, but really just the dog's water dish.
That night, I found him on the side of the garage, facedown, ass-up and arms out. I remember pulling him up for a better look only to face a drunken Stan Marsh, handcuffed to Clyde.
Stan started running his mouth, slurring what he probably thought were clever insults at me, trying to get me away from him and Clyde. Not sure why or when the two were handcuffed to each other.
Well whatever, either way, it was hard enough taking care of a 17 year old tilting the scales dangerously close to the 300-lb mark, possessed by a demon baby that only blubbers to communicate let alone having that possessed baby demon attached to what must have been this demon baby's older toddler sister.
Everything out of Stan's mouth wreaked of sass and definitely some crass. I was too occupied helping Clyde puke out his to listen to what Stan was ranting about.
Stan must've been jealous and started pounding on my shoulder, wanting me to coddle him, like it was his turn next to get a lullaby from Craig.
I never sang anyone to sleep ever, Ken.
Only you.
You would beg and beg and beg. This demon baby must possess all my closest friends.
…I even miss the demon baby…
…anyways…
I literally had my hand raised Ken. Like when our dads would feel nice enough to give us a warning instead of skipping to the straight beating.
Who came to Stan's rescue, but Kyle Brofloski. Didn't say much to me, just helped pick up Stan, and together, we walked their inebriated ass' to the deck. Not a word was spoken between Kyle and I, just the gentle soothes that we both gave to our respective babies.
It was funny, I felt like maybe Kyle and I were a lot like each other like you said a few years back. We both had a lot in common. The way we could work in silence together, getting the vomit out of hair, clothes changed, head ache medicine swallowed. We both did what we were supposed to do and not a bit more.
There were small differences, mostly between Clyde and Stan. Clyde wanted to be cuddled and was unashamed. Stan, he had a harder time accepting how he felt, even when he was drunk. It was like he'd remember who he was, or who he thought he was and would let loose on Kyle.
Scream all these mean things, I could see the look in Kyle's eyes that read hurt.
Think about the eyes of Ruby and Karen, kind of like that.
He would stay silent, still forcefully cleaning Stan's arms. Must've hit a tender spot, though. Stan took his shoulder from the arms of Kyle, causing Clyde and I to sway a little in their direction. Stan's water glass, filled by Kyle, was slightly spilled by Kyle. Stan raised his free arm at Kyle. I guess I could say in Stan's defense that I had no idea what he was about to do. From experience, alcohol matched with one confused "man" is never a good mix.
I didn't do much. I simply nudged the guy off balance and ended with a quick slap of the wrist.
I watched my mom do that Ruby when she would throw a tantrum for no reason.
I half expected Kyle to be mad, and half embarrassed. Never in a million years would I have thought Kyle's reaction would be,
"Thank you."
It had to have been near four in the morning by then. The boys in handcuffs had made themselves comfortable on the stomachs of Kyle and I. I would say that both boys weren't strangers to such a position with their best friends.
I knew there would be no grief from Kyle. He and I shared something that night… maybe we shared an understanding of each other.
Once snores filled the open air, I felt myself relax a little. It had been a long night and I figured Kyle was fighting sleep, too.
"All I ever wanted was to pick apart the day."
Kyle's words broke the silence. I glanced to my left and saw that Kyle had that 'wide awake' expression in his eyes. As if moments like this were the only times he got an actual minute to think.
I offered him a cig with my free hand and he took it, in return lighting both of our cigarettes.
My silence urged him to go on.
"All I ever wanted was to pick apart the day, put the pieces back together my way."
I knew how he felt. I'm sure neither one of us really enjoyed cleaning up one idiot alone, even worse, having another idiot to work around.
Stan and Clyde being the idiots.
Kyle and I mostly enjoyed the silence that we gave each other. I got the feeling that it was hard to come by for both of us.
Every so often Kyle would say something cryptic, not nonsense though.
Even though we were the only two conscious human beings around, I felt like Kyle was speaking in some type of code, some code that he knew only I would understand.
"You and I seek similar stars, but can't sit at the same feast."
My hum of agreement seemed to be enough for him.
Although we both somehow were enjoying the twisted evening we were having, we knew that some form of action had to take place.
Stan would not be exactly happy to wake up, not have a clue where he was or why he was handcuffed to Clyde, sleeping on Kyle who is sleeping shoulder to shoulder with Craig.
Yeah, something had to be done.
I watched Kyle physically think hard about how to get them both out of the handcuffs. I heard mutters of "Stan's gonna kill me!" and "Why would he do something so stupid."
He must not know Clyde very well.
Thankfully, I do. I searched in his shirt pocket and found the handcuff keys, a piece of chewing gum, and two condoms. Funny. The condoms, not the gum.
Once the two boys were separated I had Clyde in my arms baby style, Kyle with Stan's weight on his shoulders. We gave each other the slightest nod and turned our separate ways.
Before I let him walk away I told him he should let Stan wake up to him on his chest.
Told him he should let him know how he feels. Something about the way Kyle spoke to me made me feel like he needed someone to be honest with him, too.
And you always tell me how much Stan and Kyle belong together, blah blah blah.
Kyle started blushing and going off about Stan's dream is to become some sort of athlete, some type of leader or something. Even more blah blah blahs….
I decided to try my hand at the cryptic message game, "His origami dream is beautiful, but man, those wings will never leave the ground without a feather and a lottery ticket, now settle down."
I wonder if he ever told Stan how he really feels…
"All I ever wanted was to pick apart the day
Put the pieces back together my way…
…You and I seek similar stars but can't sit at the same feast…
…His origami dream is beautiful, but man, those wings will never leave
the ground without a feather and a lottery ticket, now settle down."
"Daylight"- Aesop Rock.
