Disclaimer: I don't own anything...DAMN DISCLAIMERS!!!
A/N: Hey y'all! Thanks for all the neat-o reviews. Anyhow, this is part two of Just Over the Hill. The mystery continues...enjoy...
Just Over the HillPart Two
The next morning was cold and foggy. Stan lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't want to get up, but he didn't really want to rest either. He couldn't, after the dream he just had. It was about Kenny...Stan shuddered with the horrible memories of the night previous images pounding in his brain. He heard the mail boy ride up on his bike and throw the paper at his door.
"Paper." Stan muttered, sitting up in his bed. Without even bothering to put some pants on, he walked down the stairs and toward the front door to retrieve his paper.
"What are you looking at?" Stan glared at his image in a passing mirror. He had gotten into the habit of talking to himself.
"Huh? Is there something you want to say?"
His own cold gray eyes and shaggy black hair were his own, but the words he spoke next weren't.
"Help me."
Stan took a step back from his reflection. Why had he said that? Was he going...no, not yet anyway. That was too early. His pupils dilated. He felt a coldness run down his spine. What was going on?
"Stop it. You just shut up. Shut up!" Not conscious of what he was doing, Stan took a vase off the table next to him and furiously threw it at the mirror. His reflection shattered into a million pieces all over the carpet.
"Damn." He muttered, opening the front door. Cold wind greeted him as he reached down toward the paper.
"Mysterious Illness Sweeps City of San Francisco." Stan read the headlines aloud. He quickly scanned the page:
"...64 babies born to healthy mothers were all dead less than two minutes later. Officials still trying to find cause of deaths while families mourn. Detective Theodore Cornwell believes the illness is another form of the Black Plague that killed thousands in Europe during the fourteenth century..."
Stan's eyes widened. Was this the same illness that was in South Park? Was it spreading? Stan gulped and closed the front door, then winced in pain. He had stepped on a giant piece of glass, slicing his foot. He cursed and went upstairs to find a Band-Aid. He dropped the paper on the floor near his couch.
The phone rang.
"Stan, it's me and your mother calling. We've decided to, uh, stay in Hawaii for a couple more days, after all, you need quiet to study for your college paper, right? We love you son, call us back soon. Hey, look at the bellydancers-"
Just as the phone call cut off, the doorbell rang. Stan put down the Band-Aid box to open the front door.
Once he had opened the door, he was surprised to see who it was. "Shelly?"
"Yeah turd, who'd you think it would be? Look, are mom and dad home?"
"No, they're in Hawaii."
"Oh." Shelly looked sad for a split second, but she quickly resumed her mean nature.
"So, get kicked out of South Park college yet, moron?"
"No, not yet."
There was silence for a few seconds.
"...Okay, I'm gonna cut to the chase. I need to...get something from the attic." Shelly pushed past Stan and started toward the attic.
"Hey, wait-what are you getting from the attic?"
"Just some of my old junk. I, uh, have a friend who wants some of my old baby toys."
Stan heard Shelly open the attic opening. He sighed and sat down on the couch, but quickly stood up again when he realized he was sitting on his newspaper. Hadn't he dropped the newspaper...on the floor? Maybe Shelly moved it.
"But I didn't see her bend over to pick it up. Well, maybe she did it and I didn't realize it. But why would she do that? This is such a stupid conversation, so just shut up about it." Stan told himself, picking up the newspaper and throwing it on the floor again. He was just getting comfortable again when he yelped.
"A picture...of Kenny? Why the hell would Shelly leave a picture of Kenny on my newspaper?" Stan picked up the picture slowly. On the photo, Kenny's hood was off for once, but he wasn't really smiling for the photo. In fact, it looked like he didn't even know he was being photographed. He was concentrating on something to his left, it looked like.
Stan turned the picture over. On the back was a phone number. Stan dropped the picture as Shelly came running down the stairs carrying a box covered with a blue blanket.
"What is that, turd?"
"Shelly, why did you leave a picture of Kenny on my newspaper?" Stan asked her right out. Shelly raised one of her eyebrows in confusion. Stan angrily picked up the picture of Kenny.
"This picture! Are you trying to piss me off, or what? You know, if that's what you wanted to do, you could have done something less harsh." Stan was practically crying now. All those memories of Kenny came rushing back to him.
"Stan, I didn't put that picture there."
"Who did then?"
"I don't know, but it definitely wasn't ME!" Shelly proclaimed.
"Well, it wasn't me, either!"
"...I'm going now. Tell Mom and Dad I said hi."
"Whatever."
"Bye, turd."
She pushed open the front door with her foot and walked toward her car.
Stan growled and kicked the newspaper and the picture to the other side of the room."
"Why don't you stay there?" Stan yelled at the pair. He flipped on the television.
"...and now, here with us, is Doctor Wendy Testaburger with information on the mysterious illness that has struck San Francisco and the lesser known town of South Park, Colorado. Doctor Testaburger, what can you tell us about this horrible sickness?"
The camera switched angles to show Wendy sitting at a table with papers in her hands.
"Well, what we know so far might be important to finding a cure to this ailment. First off, we know that the illness can happen to anybody, healthy or not. Secondly, it seems to happen randomly, usually to only half of the babies in the hospital's we have been observing so far. All of the children, sadly, don't live past two minutes. We hope to find a cure for it soon."
"Do you have a name for this new illness?"
"We at the office have been calling it TMS, or two minute syndrome, because, like I mentioned before, the infants don't live past two minutes."
"Do you have any advice to soon to be mothers out there, in hope to prevent any more deaths?"
Wendy stared straight at the camera and was silent for a moment or two. Stan could almost hear what was going through her brain: there's no helping anyone, no advice I could give.
"Um, well, eat fruits and vegetables, and try to avoid any friend or family member who's baby might have had the illness, as we're not sure if it's contagious or not."
"Thank you, Doctor Testaburger, for that overview of the illness. In other news, a teacher at..."
Stan closed his eyes at this point and drifted off into a deep sleep.
Part Two End