I do not own any of this. That distinction goes to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.
Kyle's POV
All of us looked at each other, surprised. How the hell can the casket be empty? But I'm sure that's what everyone else is asking themselves. Finally, spoke up. "Empty? How the hell can that be?" he demanded. "It sure beats the hell out of us." one of them agreed. "I'd doubt it," Wendy spoke up. "The only way that can be so is if you guys were trying to lose the body." she finished. "Trust me, we did not try to lose the body. In fact, you can come outside right now and see for yourselves." although he was obviously referring to Wendy. But yet, all of us came following the men outside like a herd of sheep. We were all brought out to the back parking lot where we saw a long, black limousine. The type that one would only see in Hollywood. We then crowded around the back as the men approached it. They told us to move aside while they opened the back doors. Once open, the only thing in there was a beautiful, light brown casket. You ask me what wood it's made of? Fuck off, because I don't know shit about wood. The men grasped onto the golden handles towards the bottom and lifted it from the car floor. They then moved it out of the limo and laid it down on the pavement. We crowded around it, looking in awe on it. "Alright, I'm gonna prove this to you right now." one of the men said and proceeded to open the casket's hatch. For one man, he was able to open it quickly. The inside of the casket was just as divine as it is on the outside. With silk white walls enveloping the interior. However, like the men said, Stan was not in it, nobody was.
We were now looking at the empty casket. Who the hell would take Stan's body? "I'm calling the police! No sick bastard is gonna take my dead nephew!" Uncle Jimbo exclaimed. He then took out his phone and did so. Wendy was standing opposite of me. However I then noticed the girl with black hair sneaking off. Where was she going? Wasn't she gonna help with the search? I started following her to see where she was going. I crutched at a somewhat normal pace while keeping the rhythm of my crutches as silent as possible. They weren't perfectly silent, however she was unable to notice me. She then, however, made a cut into the woods which made my footsteps more audible and my mind more suspicious. Despite the louder "steps", she still didn't notice me. However, I started to get a little behind as I was being too careful with each step. This in turn quickened my walk, while still being careful. I then felt one of my crutches get stuck. I looked upon it and noticed that it was entangled in some heavy shrubbery. I have never seen such heavy bushes before, but I was losing Wendy quickly. I struggled to get the crutch free, but it remained grounded. Just as I was about to lose sight of her, I freed it. I really had to catch up if I were to keep it. I moved my crutches at a almost running pace and didn't give a flying fuck about the sounds I was emitting. And for some god damn reason, she didn't notice. She maintained to go in a straight direction, so I wasn't really focusing too much in terms of what was in front of me. Bump into her? Nah, that's ridiculous. But I guess I should've have been looking the whole time, because when I looked up, I was abbout inches from Wendy. I tried to stop my swinging arms and crutches, but I was just too late and crashed right into her. She hit the ground with me falling on her legs.
As she found her composure, she looked back and found me. She looked surprised at this. She got up, leaving me on the ground to grab my crutches. The raven-haired girl helped me to my feet and crutches. As soon as I was in a standing position, the first thing to exit her mouth was, "Were you following me?" which was more of an exclamation than a question. I nodded my head slowly. She looked at me straight in the eye. "You'd best be getting back to the funeral home. You're parents must be worried sick." she suggested. She turned to walk away when I stopped her. "And what about you?" I demanded. This was enough to make her stop in her tracks. "Don't worry, I told them I was just heading off." she lied. "Well then, where the hell are you going?" I asked. She kept her head turned from me. "That's not important." she replied. She then continued to walk off. I followed behind her. However she must've assumed I would follow her with her bullshit lie and looked back to face me. "Please, stop following me!" she demanded. "Look, I care about you...a lot." I lied. "And well, I have this funny feeling that you're gonna do something...horrible. I'm here for you, just tell me where you're going. I might be able to help." I finished. I must admit, that shit that came out of my mouth was unwanted, but it must be the only way to get the truth. She sighed and looked at me to respond. "Alright," she started. "I'm going to Cartman's." this made me more suspicious. She must be plotting to have him kill her or something. "Cartman? Why are you killing yourself?" I asked almost in a panic. She looked stunned by this. "Oh no,no,no,no!" she reassured. "It's nothing like that." she finished. Really? She's not gonna kill herself? Then why the fuck is she going to Cartman's? "Well, why are you going there?" I asked. The raven hair girl looked at me for a minute, then sighed again. "Don't you get it? He stole the body! He killed him and now he has it!" she yelled. What? "Cartman may have the body, but he certainly did not kill him." I reassured.
She looked at me, puzzled. Her expression was also in a state of disbelief and shock. "Yes he did, told me that Stan was founded 'in a cabin in the woods' and 'badly injured'. This can mean that he was beaten at the hands of another human being. And that somebody is clearly Cartman." she testified. "No he didn't! I was the one who founded him in the cabin! Three men in trench coats brought me there and they told me to stay in the car. They went in there where they most obviously beat him. I escaped! They went looking for me to try to keep me from telling the truth!" I finished. She remained puzzled. "Well do you know why some people would do this?" she questioned. I thought about it for a minute. I then remembered something. It hit me like a gun shot to the head. "Well, I guess they were hired. I remembered the driver in the car talking to someone on the phone saying 'It's still there' and 'I'll make sure it is disposed of'. And they wouldn't let me listen in." I then dropped my voice as I realized something. I now knew what "it" was. Well, to be honest, I had an idea it was Stan but it didn't exactly hit me that the men were "hitmen". I spoke up again in new realization. "I'd best come with you. We're in this together." I stated. She nodded her head and continued. I followed behind her.
The route proved to be time saving. We arrived at the fatass's house in half the time it normally took through town. The black hair girl arrived at his door with me right behind. She knocked loudly, enough to be heard throughout the neighborhood. Within seconds, opened it. "Why hello." she greeted in her usual, seductive tone. We just ignored her and walked straight in. We didn't hear some shitty show on TV or the obnoxious munching of Cheesy Poofs or whatever the fuck his mom makes him, so he wasn't downstairs. We marched up the stairs as we were sure that if he did have the body, that time might be running out.
At the top of the stairs we walked straight to his door. Once there we busted it open. There we found the fatass sitting by his window looking into a telescope. He then turned around to greet us.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Jew and the girl. I've been finding this little procession most interesting. Especially when the casket opened up empty." he retorted as he started laughing. I approached the telescope and looked into it. I saw the back parking lot of the retirement home. The casket was lying there, open and empty. Police cars covered the parking lot with several police officers interviewing my parents. I moved away and faced the fatass. "Alright! Where is he?" I demanded. Cartman gave me a blank stare as if he apparantly didn't know what I was talking about. "Where's what, Jew?" he asked in a smartass tone. "Where's Stan's body, you fat piece of shit?" I clarified. He once again gave me a blank stare. "How the hell should I know? They're the ones who lost him!" he replied pointing at the telescope. I was about to speak up when Wendy stepped in. "We know about the gang! The one who wear black trench coats!" she announced. "They drive a black 2010 Chrysler 300. They stopped by a quaint cabin in the woods where they beat the shit out of him!" I added. Cartman looked at me with more puzzlement which I know is actually concern and shock. "So drop the fucking cherade and give us the body!" Wendy yelled explicitly.
Cartman stood there for about thirty seconds, probably trying to formulate some fake story. Afterwords, he spoke up. "Guys," he started. "I have no fucking idea where any of that bullshit came from. I'm no therapist, but I'd say you two are in denial because of Stan's death. You think it's okay to inflict blame onto a completely innocent person, me. So get off my fucking back! And admit it! He's fucking dead!" he finished. Wendy started approaching the fatass, when I stopped her. "We'll be back, fatass!" I decreed and followed Wendy out of the room. As we were walking out Cartman spoke over us. "I'll be waiting, Jew." he said.
Once outside the room, Wendy spoke up. "What the hell was that about? He obviously did it!" I looked at her in the eye. "I agree with you. But before we make any hasty decisions, we should go looking. Maybe Cartman hid him somewhere, but he's not gonna tell us. Is he?" I said sincerely. Wendy bowed her head down. "Alright. But let's not waste too much time." she complied. We exited the house.
Cartman's POV
...I think about you everyday
I'd reckon you'd do the same.
There shall be harmony
right in your name.
The fag had read the closing lines of his poem. I suddenly covered my mouth, trying to keep myself from entering a laughing rant. I noticed that everyone else was silent. How was that not funny? Think about it! Stan Marsh is a god damn fag! And they won't give him what's good for him, or at the very least laugh.
The bell had rung, signaling the end of class. I rushed to catch up with Butters, who was filing out. I walked by his side, until we were out of the room, making sure we were out of earshot of the fag. Once out in the hallway, I spoke up. "Hey Butters, what'ya think of that poem Stan read?" I asked him.
"Well it seemed kinda good. But it was confusing." he admitted. I then placed my hand on his shoulder. "Butters, that poem was a lemon. Sweet and tender on the outside, but sour and citrus on the inside." I told the blonde. Butters looked at me with a confused look. "Now what are you saying?" he asked confused. I took my hand off his shoulder, and turned it so he faced me. "Butters, Stan Marsh I'm afraid, is the faggiest fag of all fags." I announced. Butters looked a little shocked by this. "Well, which boy is he interested in? I hope I'm not the one he's into. My parents will ground me." the blonde said. "That doesn't matter, Butters. He could be interested in me, you, or even the whole class! We have to stop him! Fags don't deserve to live, Butters! And with you by my side, I'm sure we can stop it from spreading. Are you in?"
"Yes, Eric." he replied. "I'll start telling people."
It was lunch. I was sitting down at a table alone with Butters. "So, did you tell anyone?" I asked him. He looked up, proud of himself. "Yep. I told the entire second and third grade. The second grade promised they'll tell the first graders and promised to tell them to tell the kindergarden. The third grade promised to tell the fifth grade." he reported. "Good." I replied. "I already told the class and the other fourth grade. We're definitely on our way, Butters."
Kyle was sitting with some friends of his and the fag was sitting alone in the corner. However, that changed when I saw him get up and approach Kyle. I couldn't hear what he was saying due to all the sound and commotion in the cafeteria. The two then got up and exited the cafeteria. "Hold on, Butters. There's something I need to check out." I told him. I got up and followed them out side. They stood about seven feet from the doorwa, and I hid behind there trying to listen in.
"What's going on? You haven't talked to me all day!" Kyle said almost like he was having a heart attack.
"You know that poem I read this morning?" he asked him.
"Yeah, it just seemed like a bunch of metaphorical and crap."
"Well, to be honest, I wrote it about you." Stan told him. No way! It's Kyle! I knew it was only a matter of time!
"What?"
"Kyle, I know this seems wrong but...I love you!" No fucking way! For about a minute or so, there was nothing. Maybe it was one-sided. Then the Jew spoke up.
"Stan...I love you too!" There it was! The deal is sealed! There's not just one fag in here, but two! This day just keeps getting better and better.
I then heard footsteps. They were coming back in. Fuck. I rushed as fast as I could back to Butters. Not to escape from them, but to report the news. But then, I stopped in my tracks. I suddenly came up with a better idea. I've always hated the Jew, but he loves Stan. So perhaps, rather than killing them both at the same time, we can kill Stan, and have Kyle wallow in pain. And then we kill him. Genius. Just genius.
Kyle's POV
We rounded the corner from Cartman's house. I turned to Wendy. "Alright, if I were Stan, where would I be?" I asked to myself, but also talking to Wendy. Wendy turned to me. "Your house, probably. Was there anything suspicious in your house before you left?" she asked. "How am I suppose to know? All I did was stay in my room and get dressed. I didn't pay attention to details." I assured. "Well then that's the first place we go to!" the raven hair girl announced.
My house, 1002 Bonanza Street, was nearby from Cartman's house. We quickly jaywalked across the barren street to the dark, empty house. My mom always keeps a spare key under the welcome mat. I picked it up and unlocked the door. Once inside, we turned on the lights. We separated and spent about thirty minutes turning the house upside down from the attic to the basement. Wendy covered upstairs and the attic, while I search the main floor and the basement. But we found nothing. We then met again in the foyer with the house a wreck. My parents won't be home for a few hours, so I didn't care. "Where do we search next?" she asked. I thought about this for a minute and then spoke up. "I'd guess...Stan's house." I said almost sounding like an idiot. We then exited the house and made our way to 2001 Bonanza Street, which was a longer walk but still short.
Luckily, Stan's house also has a spare key. We opened the door and turned on the lights. This time, we alternated with me searching upstairs and the attic and her searching down here and the basement. I immediately approached the top of the stairs to search the parents' bedroom, nothing. I search the bathroom, nothing. However, I heard a soft sound while searching in there. It was soft sobbing. I immediately got out and went into my friend's room. In there, I not only saw the body, but the body...was alive.
Stan's POV
I woke up in a small, compressed space. I suddenly remembered the harsh brutality of the beating and rape. I wanted to die, whether by asphixiation or dehydration. I'd stay in that space as long as it takes, nothing mattered. I didn't know how the mean men proceeded me in here anyhow. Probably right now, under six feet of dirt and all sorts of shit. In fact, to prove a point, I pressed my hand against the top of the space. However, it wasn't solid. My hand grew more and more free, until at last. I was able to sit up. I was in a car, similar to the dreaded, 2010 Chrysler 300. But I could tell it wasn't, it was relatively longer. It still had the black windows, but that car could never fit a huge thing like this. I then realized that it was a coffin. Why the hell would the men bury me so formally? I then looked down, and saw myself in a suit and tie. Why would they waste a valuable suit on me. I brought my hand to my head, and I could feel my poofball hat. At least they were able to keep that, to my relief.
I moved out of that coffin and noticed two doors leading to the car's exit. I pulled the handle and they opened. I ran out, to get as far away from that crime scene as possible. I didn't want to be reminded of it. I already want to die. I ran straight for the woods, which was next to the parking lot. Once I was in the clear, I removed the suit and tie. Within a minute or so, I was only in my underwwear. It was as cold as hell in the afternoon, but I didn't care.
Within a few minutes, I was back at my house. It was empty as can be. I opened the door, and locked it. I could easily tell that it was just me in here. Even in the serendity of my home, I was still freezing from all the running. Usually, I didn't mind that, but this time I was really cold. Cold to the point of getting a high fever. I ran upstairs to my room, and pulled on the first thing I grabbed. Pajamas and a blanket just wouldn't cut it. So I ended putting on my usual clothing even though it was like, 5:30. I then huddled under my blanket. I tried falling asleep, but the beating and rape quickly caught up to me. I buried my face in my pillow and starting crying. I don't deserve to live, beats the hell out of me why I couldn't have just stayed in the coffin.
To Be Continued
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