"CARTMAN!" Kyle screeched, his thin pink lips silently acquiescing to a colossal oval-like shape that only the most prominently robust incredulity could produce. "OH MY GOD! You...you killed Stan...You bastard!"
"I didn't have a choice, Kahl!"
"I'm sorry...I just-I just don't know what to say to you..."
"Huh?"
"You saved my life, but you killed my best friend... I-I don't know what to say.."
"Look, Kahl, we weren't here, okay? None of this ever happened. We were both at my house all afternoon long playing Tea Party. Now come on, we gotta bail!"
Kyle had an abrupt urge to protest, but he knew that logical reasoning was practically useless against a verbal opponent as stubborn as Cartman. But still, we can't just bail!, Kyle thought, his angry eyebrows creating dark, conspicuous creases on the bridge of his nose. Kyle sighed and decided it was best for him to just shove his impulses down his throat.
"COME ON, KAHL!" Cartman shouted from the ground below.
A few moments later, a somewhat reluctant Kyle stumbled out of the open window and began descending from one of the support columns atop Stan's porch.
"Alright, now let's get the hell out of here." Cartman whispered stealthily.
And so, the two teenage boys wandered off into the unknown, completely ignoring the tragic events that had so recently transpired. The large, tawny sunset was finally starting to succumb to the overwhelming force of nighttime blackness; It was as if the sky was closing in on them. However, they were utterly unaffected by the mass of swirling darkness that embraced them. The astonishingly pulchritudinous celestial wonderland was unfolding itself right before their very eyes, so fearlessly exposing itself to their uncaring eyes. It was as if it was divulging secrets that had been kept for far too long...
"OH MY GOD! GERALD, GERALD, COME QUICK!"
Gerald rushed over to his wife's aid, clutching a cell phone in his right hand.
"What is it, Sheil-? JESUS CHRIST!" "Call the police, CALL THE POLICE!"
Gerald didn't even have to nod before furiously punching 911 into his device.
"911, What's the emergency?"
"SOMEONE'S BEEN SHOT!"
"10/4...Be there in 3."
"HURRY!"
Just a few minutes after the initial 911 call, several muscular EMTs scurried into the bedroom and lifted Stan's bloody, unconcious body onto a stretcher and carried him out to the waiting ambulance.
Gerald and Sheila followed suit and entered the large emergency vehicle, bawling so loudly that it made the screeching sirens sound like a silent breeze of summertime.
The huge car rolled away into the distance, the shrill alarms still blazing through the night skies, only to be answered by the echos of darkness...