Author's Note: Reviews are nice…
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"Four, five, six…faster beetch! You call zat a pushup!" I sigh and look over to where Cartman and Mole were. Mole was holding a shovel dangerously close to Cartman's head, while the other was on the floor doing the most painful looking pushups I have ever seen. With both of them making so much noise (Cartman's panting and wheezing while Mole was ranting and screaming) I was having a really hard time concentrating on my homework. I spent most of yesterday playing video games and watching TV at Kyle's house, so I hadn't gotten any of it finished.
I was already getting a headache from trying to understand fucking Shakespeare, and listening to those two was making it worse.
"Goddammit, be quiet!" I know I sounded like Kyle, but seriously I just want them to shut up. They've been like this all morning; I'm surprised Cartman hasn't collapsed from exhaustion. Then again, if I had a maniac pointing a shovel at my head, I would probably find some extra stamina, too.
"Why do you have to use my house? Can't you go to Cartman's!" I yell, frustrated. They weren't that annoying, really, it was just the Shakespeare that was making me cranky, plus I hadn't had anything to eat for breakfast again.
"I told you, my mom's having Mr. Mackey over again—there is no way I am staying to see that."
"Ugh…" Okay, so he won that round. Seriously, his mom needed to stop being such a whore so I can do my homework in peace.
"Queet slacking, fat boy! Pushups, now!"
"Ay! Don't fucking hit me with your shovel, you French piece of shit! OWWW! Son of a bitch! OWWW! "
I sigh. Today is going to be a long day.
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I'm walking towards Kyle's house again. It seems that every time I get bored I always head over to his place. It's probably because he has video games and TV, while my house doesn't even have electricity most of the time. Mole and Cartman were still in my room when I left; I hope Mole doesn't kill Cartman through over exhaustion. That would ruin the whole point of him doing this in the first place.
…It's kinda scary how much Mole seems to enjoy "training" Cartman. At least, that's how he puts it; it looks more like torture than training to me.
Once I reach the Broflovski household, I ring the doorbell. Instead of Kyle answering it, I see his mother open the door, not really looking surprised to see me. After a while, she had gotten used to me visiting her son all the time (I tried to spend as little time at home as possible, so I went here instead) and she didn't really seem to mind when I showed up on her doorstep without warning.
"Oh, hello Kenny… Kyle's in his room upstairs, with a friend."
"'Kay, thanks," I say, making my way to the stairs. When I reach the door to his room, I raise my hand to knock, but stop when I hear a sort of muffled groan coming from inside. What the hell is going on in there? I place my hand on the doorknob, and slowly turn and push the door slightly open, careful not to make any noise. I peek through the small opening and see Kyle on his bed…with Stan…HOLY SHIT!
I can feel my jaw drop, and before either of them can notice me, I shut the door. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. I shake my head, trying to force the strangely hot, yet slightly nauseating images of Stan and Kyle going at it, out of my head. I mean, I've always suspected that they were both gay for each other, but seeing it was a whole lot different than just thinking it.
I head downstairs and walk outside; I don't think Kyle would want me there, not when he's busy with Stan. I'm trying to think of someplace else to go, not really paying much attention to the road. So when I cross the street, it's no big surprise that a bus just happens to make a turn into the road, right when I'm crossing it.
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Sometimes I wonder if God hates me. That was probably the thirtieth time I've gotten run over (only counting the times it happened in front of Kyle's house). Maybe it was cursed or something.
Damien was sitting next to me on a couch; we were both at Satan's place, watching a movie and eating popcorn. I wasn't really paying attention to the movie all that much. Damien had picked it out, and it was way too emo for my enjoyment.
"So…where is your dad?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation. Even if I have to listen to his squeaky, high-pitched, ear grating voice, it's still better than watching this gay ass movie.
"He went to the ninth layer of hell, I think."
"Huh?"
"Remember when I came to South Park the first time, I told you I was from the seventh layer of hell? Well, that's where we are right now, and Dad went to the ninth layer of Hell, which is underneath the eighth layer, which is underneath the seventh."
"Oh…right…" I pretend to understand.
"He's not gonna be back till tomorrow, I think."
"Wait, so I'm stuck here until then?" I couldn't go back home unless Satan was there to send me off. I didn't know the way to Earth from Hell, only he and Damien did, and somehow I don't think Damien would be all that willing to help me leave. I don't even know why the thought of staying here overnight bothered me so much; it was just…something about that stupid emo boy really, really got on my nerves. I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but—
"What do you mean 'stuck here'? What, you'd rather be at home, sleeping with rats?" He glares at me, interrupting my thoughts.
"No, I just, um… ugh, never mind." I turn to the TV, deciding to ignore him and watch the rest of the movie, even though it was really gay.
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End of Chapter Four
