Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. School only started a couple weeks ago and already I have a ton of projects and homework. Next time I'll try to update faster! I decided that this chapter is where the slash begins yay! and I also put it back to Kenny's pov. I wonder if maybe I should try writing some chapters in third person……?

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I still couldn't believe Cartman had actually agreed to my plan. I knew that he'd been pretty suspicious at first when I suddenly started acting like I cared about him and his well-being (which I always have, really, just not enough to actually do anything about it, at least, not until now) but I hadn't known that he wanted to find out the real reason I was doing this that badly. Maybe he had some kind of sixth sense nobody knew about.

It had been at least a week since he told me "Fine, I will!" and agreed to let me help him lose weight but so far we had gotten nowhere. Cartman was really frustrating when it came to getting him to exercise and I had already started to give up any hope of succeeding when I remembered someone who could help. Not Damien though. I was getting desperate, but not enough to resort to brainwashing. I'm only using that if the situation gets really hopeless.

I looked down at the address written on a piece of paper I was holding, hoping I was on the right street. I walked along the sidewalk till I found a house with the number 810 above the door. That had to be it. I walked up to the house a little wearily, hoping that that someone was home, and rang the doorbell.

"'Ello?" a boy that looked to be about my age, seventeen or eighteen, maybe, answered the door. He had a French accent and there was a cigarette between his lips.

"Kenny?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?" I had met Mole a long time ago, during the war with Canada. He had been killed by guard dogs and when he died he had landed in Hell (most people do), which was the same place I had been during the war. I talked to him for a while there, before I left and got into heaven. I've only talked to him a few times since then. He's the only person (besides me) that's died and come back to life, even though it only happened to him once and he only came back to life because I asked Satan to return everything back to normal.

"Um…I need your help with someone…"

"I don't do assassinationz, zough I theenk I could find zomeone—"

"No! I mean, that's not what I meant. I need you to help get Cartman to lose weight and—"

"Why would I help ze fat boy who killed me? I still haven't forgotten zat it was hiz fault I got attacked by zose guard dogs!" Mole scowled at me. He looked pretty pissed off, not that I blame him; I don't like guard dogs either. I decided to tell him about the deal I had made with Satan. After all, what difference would it make if he knew? Mole looked a little bit surprised at first, but asides from the initial shock he took it rather well.

"Eet makes enough senze I suppoze. I wouldn't put eet past ze fat boy to do zomething like zat," Mole says after I finish explaining. His accent was starting to get on my nerves.

"So you'll help then?" I really needed him to say yes. I knew next to nothing about good diet and exercise; mainly because my own diet consisted mostly of frozen waffles and I never did any exercise outside of P.E. (exercising would just make me skinnier, something I did not want, since was already underweight and scrawny due to being underfed). Plus, Cartman never listened to me. Whenever I told him not to eat something or to go get some exercise he would just yell at me saying something like "It's my body, I can do whatever I want with it, you poor piece of shit!" or something like that. Almost as if he had forgotten about our deal. I couldn't force him to do anything either, not because I didn't want to but because he was about six times my size while I was built like a fucking twig. Mole was required to stay fit though; he had to with his job. Digging holes all day required lots of muscle and endurance.

"If I did 'elp you, what would I get in return?"

"Umm…you could torture him with sit-ups and pushups?" I asked hopefully. He seemed to think this over, and then gave me an evil grin.

"Good enough," he said, the expression on his face making me feel sorry for Cartman already. I grin back at him, glad he had agreed to help. Cartman might not listen to me, but I knew if he ignored Mole he'd just get hit over the head by his shovel.

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I'm sitting in Kyle's living room, watching TV. Even though I haven't done any real physical activities, I'm still exhausted. Just watching Cartman do all those painful looking exercises made me tired, and listening to Mole's grating French accent had given me a headache. I decided to leave them on their own and met up with Kyle. I think he must have been pretty sick of hearing me complain about always having to eat waffles, because he had invited me over for dinner.

I turned my head, looking over at the kitchen. Mrs. Broflovski was busy cooking while Kyle was going through the fridge, looking for something to drink. He came back and sat down next to me a few seconds later, handing me one, too.

"Where's Stan?" I suddenly think to ask. I had just realized that he wasn't here, which was really unusual since those two are always together, they're practically attached at the hip. The only times I saw one without the other is when Stan had football practice or when Kyle had his basketball practice.

"We don't have to do everything together, why do people always ask me that whenever they don't see me with him!" He was glaring at me now, a look he normally saved for Cartman. Hmmm….I wonder what happened between those two? Maybe they were having another fight or something. They seemed to be having those a lot more lately.

"Did something happen?" Obviously, but I decided to ask that question anyway, just to make sure. Kyle sighed and stared at the floor, trying to avoid my gaze.

"No…nothing happened, why?" Liar, I could tell.

"You two have always been really good friends, and now all of a sudden you're fighting when you always used to get along so well. What happened between you two?" I repeat my question. Kyle still wasn't looking at me. Frustrated, I grab his shoulder and force him to face me, and when I see his face I try not to laugh. His cheeks were a deep shade of red and I suddenly understand why he had avoided looking at me.

I guess I wasn't trying too hard not to laugh because Kyle immediately shouted, "What's so funny?"

"Y-you!" I choked out, laughing. I had finally figured out why Kyle was acting the way he was. I had my suspicions before but I hadn't been as sure of it as I was now. "You like Stan don't you? Admit it, you do!"

"WHAT! I DO NOT!" Oh, Kyle when will you learn? It's so easy to tell when you're lying.

"Sure, Kyle, I believe you."

"Godammit, I'm serious! How the hell did we even start talking about this?" I shrug. I don't remember either. I'm about to ask him another question, but Mrs. Broflovski's voice calls us from the kitchen.

"Boys, dinner's ready!" Kyle and I both get up and start heading toward the kitchen. I looked over at Kyle and let the subject drop for now, but I wasn't through with him yet.

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End of chapter three

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