Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.
Warning: language, death
Kyle's Three-headed Best Friend
To say that Rod was pissed was an understatement. No, he was more in the mood to tear the first person who looked at him wrong to tiny little pieces. Whoever had stuck that dead animal in his locker had blown up one of his prospects and now he was in a position he rarely found himself in.
He was going to have to seduce a girl in less than twenty-four hours and get into her pants before midnight. To do that would mean throwing away all the hard work he had put into making himself look like a good guy in front of all the girls and letting himself be taken over by his more primal urges.
Doing that would destroy any cred he had built up but he was at the point where he would abandon it in order to get what he needed.
Slamming his locker shut with unnecessary force, he turned away and rammed right into someone who happened to be passing by him at the moment.
It was a girl smaller than him (really, all of them were smaller than him) with long, raven black hair that was done in a bun and big blue eyes but what caught his attention about her were her lips that were so plump and red that he bet there would be juice in them instead of tissue and blood. When he had run into her, she had been carrying some things for her class but now they were scattered onto the floor, Cartman's laughter ringing in the background at the misfortune.
"Ey, watch where you're going!" the girl demanded of him, revealing the braces she had on her teeth. "Stupid jock not looking where he's going," she muttered to herself as she bent down and began gathering up her stuff though the way she moved made her look lethargic.
Rod frowned down at her, tempted to bite on his lip but resisting the impulse. Hmm, she wasn't bad looking; he could work with this.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said as he crouched down and began trying to help her. "Just in a bad mood and didn't see you behind me. Let me help you with this."
"Eh, it's the least you could do," the girl told him as she stopped collecting her stuff, forcing him to finish up the task by himself. "You should really watch out where you're going."
"Sounds like you're in a bad mood too," he said.
"Yeah, I am," the girl answered. "An idiot ran into me and made me drop everything."
Rod paused, an eyebrow twitching as he figured out just who she was pointing the finger at. "You must not be a morning person if you're being this short this early in the day."
"No, I'm having that time of the month again," she told him frankly, "and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay out of my way, dick."
If ever there was a red light to warn him to keep away, this was it. He may not have high standards but even he knew that you didn't trying to screw a girl with PMS. Too big a likelihood she'd get pregnant and he was in no way interested in opening that can of worms.
"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. Pushing the things that he had collected into her arms, he stood up and left, not wanting to feel his frustration boil over. Maybe it was because he wanted to keep whatever reputation he had intact for the moment or maybe he just wasn't that desperate yet, he didn't know.
…maybe he'd hit her up later, when she was more reasonable.
He didn't get very far when he heard someone call out to him. Telling by the voice, it was obviously a guy and when he looked to where it had come from, he saw four boys approaching him. He recognized three of them from yesterday at his tryout: the black-haired guy who owned him at tackling, the guy who had first thrown the ball at him, and the black kid. Beside the three in the green lettermen jackets was a twitching blond who held a thermos tightly in his hands.
Now what did they want?
It was the black kid who spoke first. "Hey new kid. No hard feelings about yesterday, right?"
Huh? Rod stared dumbly at the four. What the hell was this?
"Yeah, even if it was hilarious to see you do so badly, we just wanted to let you know that it wasn't personal," the brown-haired guy continued. "It's just that you're a new kid and we had to do something that either embarrassed you or had us kick your ass."
Okay, he had no idea what they were talking about.
"And we're nothing like Marsh's group," the black-haired lineman finished up. "Those guys are a bunch of assholes that nobody likes. Unless you like Peru, I'd tell you to stay away from them."
"Okay, I'm lost," he told them, holding up a hand as if to tell them to stop talking. "What are you talking about?"
"Dude, you're kinda dense, you know that?" the raven-haired lineman said. "You can't possibly tell me you didn't notice that war we had a few days ago. We were trying to pull a prank on you but the girls got in our way."
"Wait, that's what that was all about?" Rod exclaimed.
"Well, duh," the black kid said.
Eyeing them suspiciously, he asked warily, "So you're talking to me now, why?"
"Because it'll piss Marsh off," the black-haired leader of the group shrugged. "That guy and his friends are assholes."
"Craig, you already told them that," the brown-haired kid told him.
"And?" Craig asked his friend, looking at the brown-haired kid blandly.
Off to the side, the jittery blond trembled, looking as if he would have a seizure any minute.
"Well, anyway, what lunch do you have?" the black kid asked, doing his best to cut through the awkward silence that had occurred.
"First one," Rod shrugged.
"That's cool," the black kid said. "How would you like to eat with us today? It must be getting tiring sitting with the girls all the time."
"I don't stay at one table the whole time," Rod said, feeling relaxed by this point though he still had an itch that could not be fixed by scratching it. "I like sitting at many different ones."
"Hey, that's all right," the black kid told him. "Just know that if you ever feel like it, you can sit with us."
"I'll think about it," Rod said. "I gotta be going. I guess I'll see you around?"
"Where else would you see us?" the brown haired kid asked, oblivious to the looks Craig and the black kid were giving him.
Suddenly, the blond kid cried out, "Oh my God! Oh God! This…ack!...this is too much pressure man! Too much pressure!"
"Tweek, get a grip," Craig told the blond, sounding for once a bit concerned. "Relax. Drink some coffee."
Rod watched in disinterest as the blond, Tweek, struggled with the thermos he held before the brown-haired guy stepped in and opened it for him. He continued to watch as the blond sipped at the thermos where steam could be seen coming out of it. Personally, he thought this was weird and so made a note to himself that this Tweek was not to be pursued.
It just didn't seem to be worth it, man.
"Excuse our friend," the black guy said apologetically. "He gets edgy if he doesn't get his caffeine fix. You'll get used to it after a while."
That's what you think, Rod thought to himself. Still, no sense letting this lucky break go; here were some guys who were satisfied with yesterday's humiliation and were extending an olive branch of sorts. Far be it from him to not take it; it could come in handy later on.
Eyeing Tweek one last time, he said, "I'm gonna to be going to class now. I'll see you guys around."
"Cool," the black guy said, turning around to tend to the spastic blond.
The moment those eyes were turned away from him, Rod was out of there. He took large steps as he looked around for someone, anyone really, that could help him out with his growing problem. He passed by everyone, from guys to girls who he sent a charming smile at to that one androgynous guy he had seen the other day and still, nothing seemed to jump out at him.
He was beginning to think he might have to hit on that androgynous guy, he was getting that desperate, when something caught his eye and he had to slow down to get a good look at it. Was that Bonnie? She looked so sad for some reason…
Lips curling upwards, he thought to himself that she could use some "cheering up." Rod-style, of course.
Forcing himself to relax a bit, he strolled up to the sad looking blonde who gave out a heartfelt sigh. Wow, she looked down about something. He schooled his features to try and reflect sympathy, knowing that it would take him far in this kind of situation.
"Bonnie?" he ask aloud, "You're looking a bit down. Something wrong?"
Bonnie jumped and spun around, looking at him wide-eyed before slumping in on herself, as if she had been expecting someone else. Rod refused to frown at this, instead letting himself settle beside her, leaning against the row of lockers the girl was at.
"Talk to me," he told her gently.
It seemed like those were the magic words as Bonnie sighed deeply and then looked straight up at him, her eyes slightly watery but not at the point that tears would be beading up.
"Sorry, Rod, I'm not having a good day," she said softly.
"Something happen?" he asked, giving the impression that he wasn't going to be letting this go.
"It's nothing," Bonnie tried to say. "I'll be all right."
"Can't," he shrugged. "You look like your dog died. I can't in good conscious let you wander around today like this. What do you have to lose? Tell me."
"Well…" Bonnie sighed. "Have you heard yet? That Kenny and Brittany Love are going out?"
"First I've heard of it," he told her. He made a mental note to himself to get more involved with the rumor mill so that he could stay up-to-date with what went on around this place.
"I…I was kinda hoping that Kenny would ask me first," Bonnie mumbled, her face reddening slightly as she looked away. "I've had a crush on him for so long…but I could never do something about it."
Ah, so that was it. "Do you really like that guy so much?" he asked her. "You know, I could go talk with him…"
"Don't!" Bonnie exclaimed, shocking Rod slightly with how emotional she sounded. "I…I don't want to interfere. Kenny…Kenny deserves to be happy…even if it's not with me, right?" Her voice cracked at those last words but Rod was feeling anything but sympathetic.
If anything, he was starting to get a good idea of what was making this girl tick.
"You know, even if it does make Kenny happy, that doesn't mean you have to be unhappy," he told her gently. "Tell you what, meet me out in the parking lot after school. I want to see if maybe I can cheer you up."
"That's so sweet of you," Bonnie said to him, sniffing. "But I'll be okay. You don't have to do anything."
"Hey, what are friends for?" he asked, giving her one of his patented heart-throbbing smiles that he was pleased to note had some effect on the girl. "I'll come find you, okay? It's Friday, why be miserable over the whole weekend? Let's just do something and have some fun while doing it? What d'ya say?"
He didn't need to hear her say anything; he knew his answer from the look in her eyes.
Bingo.
Things had been quiet today, Stan found, which instantly made him suspicious. Whenever it was quiet in this town, it was sure that something big was going to happen.
Was there something different today? Looking around the classroom, he only saw the other kids and Mr. Garrison at the front giving another of his bullshit lectures so there was nothing new there.
"Alright, class, take out your assignment from yesterday," the sexually ambiguous teacher said. "I'll call you up one at a time and take role at the same time."
Yep, same old boring stuff. Wait, Kyle wasn't in his seat. His eyes pinpointed the empty desk with ease and he finally realized that his best friend had yet to show up today.
Was he sick and dying again? Damn it, he knew he should have double-checked that kidney he stole from Cartman! But…if he was sick, he would have known how bad it was by now if it was that bad. Did he have a doctor's appointment? Probably but he did recall a time when Kyle found he had been infected with AIDS, once again courtesy of Cartman, so he pondered if there was anything new about Cartman that might contribute to Kyle's current absence.
Nope. Not a damn thing.
Then what else could it—
The door to Garrison's class suddenly opened and there stood a panting Kyle whose face was flushed red with exhaustion. Had he run all the way here and if so, why hadn't he called earlier to ask for a ride?
"Well, well, look who's late so early in the school year," Garrison said. "I'm disappointed in you Kyle. I thought you were the type that always showed up early."
"Sorry. House trouble," Kyle panted breathlessly.
"I bet it's trouble," Cartman snickered. "Did your ass pirate boyfriend get his dick stuck up your ass, Jew?"
Before Kyle could go off, Garrison snapped at him, "It's too early Eric. Keep that mouth of yours shut for at least another twenty minutes, alright? You can rip on Kyle then." Turning back to Kyle, "And since you're up at the front, you can have the honor of being the first to turn in their homework."
The redness of Kyle's face had changed from being tired due to running to being pissed at Cartman and now it was red from embarrassment. Yes, Stan could tell which color red was which when it was on Kyle's face. It wasn't weird or anything, just something you picked up after spending so much time with the same person.
Garrison frowned at Kyle and began tapping his foot on the floor irritably. "Well? Is something the matter, Kyle?"
"Ehm…my…my dog ate it," Kyle said under his breath, bowing his head low.
"Excuse me?" Garrison said, staring at Kyle.
"My dog ate my homework," Kyle said a little louder, wincing as some people giggled at the oldest and lamest excuses used to get out of turning something in. Stan was ashamed of his best friend; couldn't he have picked something better? It was obvious that he hadn't done it.
Wait, Kyle didn't do his homework? Stan could kinda see why his best friend would have trouble because of Damien and all but Kyle was a stickler for doing his work early. Not doing his homework was something the Jew would never do.
"Kyle, I expected better of you," Garrison stated, frowning at Kyle in disappointment. "That's the oldest excuse in the book. It's so old that my father used it. At least you could have given me some bullshit excuse that involved Muslim terrorists kidnapping your family and sodomizing you so that I could feel at least a little bit guilty about refusing it. Really, son, you are practically asking for an F."
"Um, my dog followed me to school," Kyle said quietly. "I think I can hear him from the window."
Now that he mentioned it, Stan could swear he heard some strange breathing sound coming from where the window was. It was probably some smoker or a Goth kid smoking by the window, no big deal.
"Is that so?" Garrison asked, eyes narrowing at Kyle. "So I should be able to go to that window over there, lift up the blinds, and see this dog of yours, am I right?"
"Yes sir," Kyle said quietly, head bowed.
"Oh, you sound so confident," Garrison mocked. "You know what, since you've been so honest this whole time, I'll go take a peek out the window and see if I can't find that dog of yours." As he spoke, Garrison approached the window, his hand reaching for the string that would lift the blinds up.
Much to Stan's puzzlement, Kyle did nothing to try and dissuade Garrison from going through with his mockery. Did Kyle know something he didn't?
"C'mon class, let's all look at Kyle's dumb dog," Garrison jested as his hand gripped the blinds' string and pulled down on it.
Instead of seeing a clear day with the sun up and reflecting off the white snow, the window was blocked off by a large animal of some kind. Stan couldn't really tell what it was but he could large red eyes that he could swear flames were licking out of, coal black skin and fur, and the largest set of teeth he had ever seen an animal have from which a loud, guttural growl hissed at Garrison.
Stuck and embedded in the teeth were various pieces of shredded paper.
The whole class was quiet and Garrison stood there, staring at the beast that was glaring back. Slowly, Garrison lowered the blinds, fixed himself then walked back towards the front of the room where he cleared his throat.
"I guess I could see about giving you an extension to Monday," Garrison told Kyle, not sounding in the least bit ruffled by what he had seen. "Just don't let it happen again."
"Ey!" Cartman roared. "Why does the Goddamn Jew get an extension and I don't? It's not fucking fair!"
"Well Eric, if you had an unholy hellbeast follow you to school and eat your homework, I might extend to you the same courtesy," Garrison said. "Until then, you shut your fucking trap, don't use the fucking F-word, and turn in your fucking assignment just like everybody fucking else." Turning back to Kyle, he said calmly, "Please take your seat."
"Thank you, Mr. Garrison," Kyle said quietly as he scurried over to his desk.
Now, you are probably wondering what Stan was thinking at this point. Well, there were two things on his mind. The first of which was how did Kyle find a "dog" like that? The second was where could he, Stan, get one?
This day was just zipping by, wasn't it? It was lunch and Rod found himself wondering where he was going to sit down. Sure, he had that invitation from earlier to sit with Craig, Tweek, and those other guys, but he was leaning more towards female company.
He had a prospect lined up but he wanted to ensure that he was going to score that night. So when he saw Charlie all alone again, he found that he couldn't resist one more chance to bag her.
He was never a person to resist his urges anyway.
"Are you trying to get a Darwin award or something?" Charlie demanded as he took a seat right next to her. "I have never seen anybody try so hard to make themselves extinct."
"Hey, I like what I see," he shrugged not repentant in the slightest. "Besides, I'm not afraid of that psycho you call a boyfriend. I've been here for what, a week, and he shows himself now? I can handle him, you'll see."
"You don't have the balls to do that," Charlie quipped right back at him. "Handling Bain is a full time job. You lose sight of him for a minute, he's probably gutting some poor schmuck that pissed him off."
"What do you see in that guy anyway?" he asked, ignoring what she was saying. It was the same thing all over again. Really, all the stuff said about that shrimp had to be hype. No one that short could be responsible for half of what he was accused of. "If he's done any of what people say he has, shouldn't you consider going out with someone more safer?"
"Crazy people are my type," she said dryly. "And for the record, I fucking hate asshole like you who think they are God's gift to the world but can only shoot blanks when it counts."
Okay, that was taking it too far. He began to wonder if maybe he should teach her some discipline…
"Already 'itting below ze belt? You must be nearing ze end of your rope," Christophe said as he took a seat at the other side of the table. "I can see where you are coming from. Zis is really getting old. Oh, by ze way Charlie, ze wheezle will be 'ere momentarily."
"How long have you been in this country?" Rod suddenly demanded, having enough of being bashed and dismissed. "Why do you still have that fucking accent?"
Christophe glowered at him but Rod did not heed the warning signs that maybe he had taken things a bit too far. He wasn't going to let these nobodies boss him around, not anymore. Who the fuck did they think they were that they were so high and mighty?
"Are you fucking high?" Charlie demanded, also looking offended for her friend. "Or maybe you're just drunk?"
"You know, I can think of a million uses for that mouth of yours," he told her, not caring what he was saying. "Not one of them includes talking."
Charlie looked like she wanted to kill but for a second, her eyes lifted off of him, as if looking at something behind him, but then returned to him, the venom not lessened a bit. However, his attention was soon drawn away from both Charlie and Christophe as a large hunting knife found itself in the table, the blade uncomfortably close to his person.
His eyes widened at the sight and slowly, he raised his gaze up and found two different colored eyes boring into him from a distance of a few inches away. Bain was staring at him blandly but slowly his lips quirked upward and his eyes seemed to glow evilly.
"That wasn't very kosher of you," Bain's velvety yet scratchy voice spoke as he yanked the knife out of the table. "I have nothing against what you just said, pretty boy, but it is to who you said it to. Allow me to inform you that I'm the only one allowed to say such a thing to Charlotte. Now, unless you would like for me to carve off your face right here, right now, I'd advise you to leave and keep away. Otherwise, it'll be you I cram into your locker, gutless of course."
"That was you?" Rod exclaimed, eyes widening.
"Our little secret," Bain replied, tapping the end of his knife against his nose. "However, there is one thing I am curious about. Why are you using Eric Cartman's locker? The raccoon was for him and the intestines were suppose to be for you. Care to explain?"
"You're a sick son of a bitch," Rod growled at the smaller teen.
"Who said you could call him that?" Charlie spoke up from behind him. "I'm the only one who can call him a psycho."
"Perhaps we should carve out that tongue of his," Bain suggested with a smirk. "Frenchie, light up a cigarette while you're at it. We'll need something to cauterize the wound."
"Fuck off," Christophe said lightly though there was a cigarette lighter being fingered in his hand.
Abruptly, Rod threw himself away from the trio, giving them all a look of horror. "What the hell are you people?" he cried out.
Giving him a creepy smirk, Charlie answered, "We're the fear that keeps you awake…"
"We're the shadows on the wall…" Bain picked up, taking a step towards him.
"We're the monsters they become…" Charlie continued.
"And you get the idea," Bain finished smoothly. "Now, let's play a game of surgery. I'll be the doctor, Charlotte will be my nurse, and you'll be the patient. What's your malfunction? Well, we'll have to figure that one out by cutting you open, won't we?"
Rod was fleeing for his life less than a second later.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
Rod hadn't stopped running until he was at the back of the school, his heart hammering within his chest as he tried to figure out just what the hell had happened back there. That…that had been fucking freaky, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
If that bitch was so happy with that freak, fine by him. She could fucking have him and make freaky babies that were cannibals and had webbed feet for all he cared. He still wanted to teach her a lesson, though, one right out of Rod's School of Tough Love where he was the professor and she was his prop.
It was a fantasy that seemed doomed to remain a gleam in his eye.
"What's with people coming out here all of a sudden? Have those conformists already forgotten that this is our turf or something?"
"Would you look at this one? Looks like a freakin' Greek statue and most likely has the personality of one."
"What? Plain, white, and stiff?"
"You got it."
Slowly, Rod turned his head towards the source of those voices and found five black-clad teens sitting around wherever they wanted, four of them handling lit cigarettes while another had a sketch pad set up against his knees. The longer Rod stared at them, the more he was able to pick out other features, such as the black eye shadow, the pale skin, the bags under their eyes, and two of them had dye in their hair, one of which was red streaks while the other had a single patch of blue.
It took him a minute but he recalled having seen similar people back in Oregon. What had they called themselves? Oh yeah, Goths.
"Better keep an eye on Kuran," the fat, female Goth said, speaking to the red-streaked Goth and the curly-haired Goth. "This conformist might try to steal him away."
"I'd like to see him try," the Goth with red streaks in his hair stated, placing a hand on the shoulder of the Goth with the sketchbook in his lap.
"Yeah, you like what you see, conformist?" the tall, curly Goth said, looking at him pointedly. "Well too bad, all you get to do is look. No touching."
The Goth with the sketchbook, the person Rod believed to be this "Kuran" guy, shifted uncomfortably under all the attention. He said nothing, though, and just kept his eyes down.
"Fuck off losers," Rod growled at the Goths, flipping them the bird and stomping away, not wanting to deal with territorial Goths right now.
"Oh, how conformist," the fat Goth chick commented, rolling her eyes at his back.
Okay, officially, this day was turning out to be bad. He wanted to punch something, anything, as long as it could release the tension he could feel building up inside of him. He swore to himself, the next person that got close to him, he was going to punch their lights out. He had had it up to here with all this shit.
Who the hell did these mountain town assholes think they were? Did they really think they were any better than him? They were hicks, all of them. Fucking rednecks who fucked their sisters and made a bunch of freaky babies. Did they not know their place? Did they?
He heard the clacking of high heels against the pavement so he was aware that someone was coming up behind him before they were able to say anything. Tired of being snuck up on and taunted, he spun around and grabbed the shoulders of the unlucky guy that was going to be served up a nice, hot meal made of a knuckle sandwich.
Grabbing the person's shoulders was as far as he got as he immediately recognized the features of a girl and his aching libido put a stop to whatever pain he was planning to unleash. He blinked dumbly at the girl until the name "Devin" popped up in his head. Hey, wasn't she popular around this joint? And wasn't she one of the big ones that gave him googly eyes? Yes, here was a girl who knew where she stood, someone he could work with. Wait, her mouth was moving up and down; that meant she was talking, right?
"Rod? Rod! Are you okay?" Devin asked worriedly and Rod gathered up what wits he could quickly.
"Oh God, a friendly face," he moaned dramatically as he gave her a look of exhaustion, as if he had been walking through a desert without water. Without a further thought, he released his hold on her shoulders only to wrap his arms around them and bring Devin into an embrace. "You have no idea what this means to me."
"That's because you've been hanging out with the weirdoes," Devin giggled at him, lightly hugging him back. "Why don't you come back to our table and hang out with us?"
"I just wanted to make some friends," he told her. "I guess that's blowing up in my face."
"No, you just need to know where you belong," Devin told him, smiling at him sweetly. "And I can tell you that; you belong with me and my friends. Forget about Wendy and that freak Charlie; they're nothing but trouble."
"You're so nice to me," he said softly, turning them around so that he had Devin slightly pressed against the school building. "You make me just…want to…" Not finishing his sentence, he crashed his lips onto her and delved his tongue deep into the chasm that was her mouth.
He felt her gasp but instead of pulling away, she leaning more into him, her hands clutching on him as if she wanted more. Who was he to deny her that? Fuck all those others, this is what he needed.
Pure, primal lust.
He gripped her wrists and held them slightly above her head, maneuvering a knee between her legs and he broke off from a lips in favor of raining little butterfly kisses over whatever patch of skin he could reach.
Yes, yes, this was so much more familiar now. It was what he knew without a doubt, what he felt safe and secure doing. Maybe…maybe he could squeeze in a quickie. If he distracted her long enough, she wouldn't care that he would be giving her a good reason to limp. He needed this so very much, so—
He froze as he heard a loud, unnatural growl come behind him. He could feel Devin tense up against him and slowly, he turned his head around to find a large dog head glaring at him, hackles raised and teeth showing. Then he noticed to the left and the right of the head that there were two other heads, each one subtly different from one another but all three glaring straight at him and Devin.
…fucking cockblock…
Cerberus bowed his three heads, his tail tucked between his legs as he knew he was in trouble. The small human whom his master had given him to was giving him this look of disappointment and he couldn't help but feel ashamed.
"First my homework and now the school," Kyle grumbled, not needing to raise his voice since Cerberus could hear him quite clearly. "Why didn't you stay home when I told you to?"
"Dude, don't be so harsh on him," Kyle's larger friend in the red poof ball hat said. "He got us out of school; we have the rest of the day off!"
Cerberus's right head so wanted to chew on that red poof ball.
"Stan, he crushed half the gym and tore a hole into the kitchen, not to mention he ate all the black forest sugar-free pudding," Kyle listed off, ticking each point on a finger. "It's not even my lunch and I was so looking forward to getting some pudding, man!"
Maybe if Cerberus regurgitated the pudding, perhaps his new master wouldn't be mad at him anymore?
"Forget about the pudding, man, I want to know where you got the dog," Kyle's other friend in the orange parka said. Cerberus couldn't really say if it was orange since he was colorblind and all. "It must have cost a fortune."
"Damien gave him to me," Kyle said, his head lowering slightly as he looked away. Was his new master uncomfortable? Well, his old master had told him that he had to make sure his new master was happy at all times. Could Cerberus gnaw on a leg and settle the matter?
"Kyle, I know you're gay and everything but I think you should find yourself a better boyfriend," the mortal in the red poof ball hat said. "There's no way this can be healthy for you."
"Alright Stan, you try telling the Antichrist of all people 'no' and see how far that gets you," Kyle said to his friend.
Cerberus' old master could be scary when he got pissed off.
"C'mon Stan, live a little," the mortal in the parka said as he climbed up onto one of Cerberus' legs and began scratching behind the ear of the left head. "I think it's pretty cool having the guardian of the underworld as a housepet. No one will ever break into your house again and if they do, they'll have to get past this guy."
"Kenny, I think your priorities are messed up," the mortal with the red poof ball hat said slowly. "This is getting too serious. We gotta find some way to get rid of Damien before he turns Kyle into some unholy demonspawn and tries to impregnate him or something."
"Thanks Stan, that really makes me feel a lot better," Kyle said dryly. "What a way to remind me that I'm the Antichrist's bitch."
"You're welcome man," the mortal in the red poof ball hat said, patting Kyle on the shoulder. Cerberus raised his right head, searching for any sign that his new master might be in danger. Nothing so down went the right head as the left continued to be petted by the mortal in the parka.
"Speaking of bitches," the mortal in the parka said, "where's yours, Stan?"
"Wendy 2?" the mortal in the red poof ball hat said. "Eh, she got spooked when she saw Kyle's new dog. I think I need to be looking for her. Hopefully she didn't get too far."
"You are such a dumbass," the mortal in the parka chuckled but it wasn't loud enough for the mortal in the red poof ball hat to hear. Cerberus, though, heard it clearly.
"Alright Kenny, you can stop playing with Dip," Kyle said. "Get on down here before you get yourself hurt."
The mortal in the parka blinked at Cerberus' new master in confusion. "Dip? I thought his name was Cerberus?"
"The middle head's name is Cerberus," Kyle explained patiently. "The left head is Dip, as in the evil dog from a Catalan myth, and the right head is Marley from that movie Marley and Me."
"Whatever," the mortal in the parka shrugged and jumped off of Cerberus' leg.
Smacking its lips, the left head, Dip, closed in on the mortal in the parka and gave him a great big lick in appreciation for the ear rub. It took talent to give a good one and Cerberus hadn't had a good one in a few millennia's.
"Aw, he likes me!" the mortal in the parka crowed.
"If you give him a belly rub, he'd be your best friend," Kyle snarked back.
"Ooh, ooh! Brownie points with the guard dog! I'm in!" the mortal in the parka said. "Now, how can I get this pup on its side and—huh?"
On the side where Dip had licked him, smoke was rising from Kenny who looked at it curiously. Suddenly, he began screaming in pain as the saliva that had been left on him from Dip's lick began reacting like acid and ate him up. In no time at all, there was hardly even a pile of mush on the ground where the mortal in the parka had once stood.
The mortals just stared at the sight for a moment before the mortal in the red poof ball hat screamed.
"Oh my God! Cerberus killed Kenny!"
"You bastard!" Kyle bellowed in response, waving a fist in the air.
Uh oh, it looked like Cerberus was in trouble again.
"Only in South Park would they cancel school because a three-headed dog wrecked half the building," Charlie grumbled to herself. "I swear, this town must be a portal to Hell or something."
"I think it's fascinating," Bain replied from beside her. He was oddly calm for some reason and while that put Charlie slightly on edge, she did wonder why he seemed so loose. "I've always wanted to see the great Kerberos in the flesh; to think I always thought the only way I would was if I died."
"Don't you mean Cerberus?" Charlie corrected.
"No, I mean Kerberos," Bain stated. "It's the original Greek form of the name. Cerberus is the Latinized form of the name."
"To-ma-to, to-mah-to," Charlie rolled her eyes. "Only you would be that anal about names."
"You probably wouldn't be saying that if you knew the meaning of your name," Bain smirked back at her. "Personally, I think it's appropriate given your personality and behavior."
"You actually found time to find out what my name means?" Charlie asked, giving the smaller boy a strange look.
"Your name means 'free woman,'" Bain said as if he hadn't heard her. "Charlotte is the feminine form of the name Charles which means 'free man.' Your nickname means the same thing except it means free as in beastly in nature. You and I both know how feral you can be, dear Charlotte so I really appreciate it that you are 'free' so to speak."
"You have a lot of time on your hands," Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, you also looked up what your name means? I bet it means evil or vicious or something."
"You'd be wrong there," Bain answered. "It actually can mean one of three things. The first is 'bone' as in being tall or lean. In Middle English, it means 'welcoming' and 'hospitable' though in Old Norse it's 'straight' or 'direct.' The last one is my least favorite; it's French for 'bath.' Roman baths to be precise but we all can't be 'free' like you, can we?"
"Well, you're definitely straight and direct," Charlie mused. "You sure as hell ain't welcoming or hospitable. You probably do bathe regularly but you know what, I prefer bone. Especially since you like breaking them."
"You flatter me," Bain said coolly. "You want something, don't you? Why else would you try and butter me up like this?"
"You're so paranoid," she teased. "Do I really need a reason to compliment you?"
"Yes," Bain said without hesitation.
"And you wonder why I call you a bastard all the time," she grumbled.
"But I'm not a bastard," Bain said innocently. "I do have a father who's alive and kicking."
"Thanks for the indirect insult," she spat back.
"You play with fire, Charlotte, you're going to be burned," Bain replied casually. Sunlight glinted off the blade of Winslow as Bain took out his favorite knife and admired it.
"Really, where do you keep that thing on you?" she demanded. "I know every place on the human body you could hide something like that and somehow when I search you for it, I never find it."
"You of all people should know about sleight-of-hand," Bain answered. "You can't always believe what your eyes see. They play tricks on you from time to time."
"Funny you should say that," Charlie smirked at him. "If you had been paying attention, you would know where we are right now…and what time it is."
Bain looked at her funny, not comprehending what she had said. "You've lost me."
A car drove past them and took a left into a nearby driveway. Bain eyed it curiously but Charlie didn't need to see it to know whose it was…and who was in it.
"You've lived in South Park your entire life so you should know whose house this is," she said to him.
Bain gave her a deadened looked and said with a monotone, "It's your house."
A door to the car burst open and a bundle of blonde hair came rushing out, slamming itself against Bain with a force that almost made him stagger.
"I missed you Bain!" Tammy cried out in excitement as she squeezed her arms around Bain's waist. "I haven't seen you in a long, long time! Come in! Come in! Come play with me!"
Charlie saw Bain's eyes widen slightly and she found herself shaking in laughter at the look of betrayal Bain was shooting at her. She smirked back at him, clearly telling him that he not only was at fault for this but that he was on his own.
In the last story (how's that for breaking the fourth wall, hmm?) they were in, Bain had tried pulling the "turn your family against you" ploy but before he could really get into it, he had nearly drowned and gotten amnesia. Unfortunately for him, he had enamored Tammy so that while he was amnesic, he couldn't refuse her and ended up making her more smitten with him. Ever since he got his memory back, he'd been trying to avoid her house like it was quarantined.
For being such a smart guy, it was hilarious to see when he fucked up so badly.
"Ooh! That's a pretty knife!" Tammy cooed, her eyes set firmly on Winslow. "Is it for me?"
Bain's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets at even the thought of giving his favorite knife away and Charlie knew it galled him for that suggestion to ever be brought up with him. Now, she knew he wanted to bluntly tell Tammy flat out no but at the same time Charlie knew that he couldn't. It was probably some remnant of his amnesia or something because no matter what, Bain would never raise a hand at Tammy.
No really, she had seen him once try to hit her but he could never raise his fist up more than a few inches before dropping it down helplessly. Had it gone any higher, Charlie would have snapped that arm off him but since he never could go through with the physical abuse, Charlie felt that it was alright to leave the two of them together.
Bain was more afraid of Tammy than Tammy was of him. He wouldn't admit it but you too would be scared if a six-year old girl had an obsession about you.
Hmm, did it get a little chilly out here? She could feel the waves of anger radiating from Bain as he continued to glare at her, even as Tammy dragged him into the house, but she also knew that it got colder up in the mountains sooner than most places.
Eh, it was probably a cold front coming in, no worries.
Stan shifted uncomfortably in front of Brittany Love as the girl stared at him. It was like he had just told her a relative of hers had just died but he was only telling her that Kenny was currently unavailable but if he could, he would like to take her out tomorrow evening to make up for tonight.
He didn't know why but it felt as if something was taking hold of him and making him do this, even though he could faintly remember something bad happening to Kenny but he couldn't make out just what it was…
"But…but he said we were going out tonight!" Brittany protested.
"Yeah," Stan agreed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "but something came up. That giant dog that came to school today kinda kidnapped him. I think. Anyway, we're going to go save him and everything so don't take it personally or something."
He left before she could get another word in. He hated this, having to cover for Kenny whenever he was throwing a bitch fit. He was so lucky that it was "bros before hoes" and not the other way around.
Just come on, what was so bad about being licked by a three-headed dog? That didn't give you a reason to run home screaming like a little bitch.
By this point in time, Stan had completely forgotten about his friend's death as a supernatural force wiped his memory clean and replaced it with something else.
Thus when Kenny woke up that next morning, he would be so pissed off when he was asked why he ran off like a pussy instead of, you know, being eaten alive by acidic dog drool.
Kuran Montri: O.o-Fox-fire-o.O