The first time Kyle saw death was when he was a toddler. He remembered standing in the front yard in the evening, barefoot, tricycle tipped over, its tires covered in mud and grass, the pink and violet tint of the sky, and an opossum scurrying into the street, only to be hit by a van. Flattened flesh and gore-matted fur stretched across the concrete, the creature's mouth open with its tongue out and black eyes squinted. The van kept going.
Whenever he thinks of that day, he remembers the stench of twisted and exposed entrails. Every time he meets someone, he wonders what their innards look like.
"Kenny can't die," he said to himself, cleaning Stan's dashboard with a wet rag, doors wide open, radio playing softly. Sparky was nearby on the lawn, lounging in a kiddie pool. "Kenny can't die," the more he said it out loud, he figured, the more he could get used to it.
"What's the big deal? I think it would be pretty cool not to be able to die" Kyle put a hand on Kenny's shoulder.
"Pretty cool?! Do you know what it feels like to be stabbed?" Kenny turned and got in Kyle's face, "To be shot, decapitated, torn apart, burned, run over-"
"-Kenny, Kenny, calm down!" Stan interjected.
Kenny ignored him, "It's not pretty cool, Kyle! It fucking hurts! And it won't go away, and nobody will believe me! Remember this time, try and fucking remember!"
He moved across the room, put a pistol to his mouth.
The car jolted. Someone had just landed on the roof. Sparky barked. Kenny slid down the windshield on his knees, facing Kyle.
"Speak of the devil," Kyle muttered. Sparky laid back down as soon as figured out who it was. "Can you calm down with that shit? Someone's gonna see you."
Kenny pointed at the spiderweb shatter, "Windshield's cracked."
"Yeah, I know. That the only thing you notice?"
Kenny looked at him for a moment, fists up on the glass. "No," he said, studying Kyle's face, "You're sweating bullets."
"Well, it's hot outside," Kyle shrugged.
"Turn the A/C on for a sec."
Kyle almost laughed. If it wasn't painful, he would have. Kenny rolled off the hood and climbed into the passenger seat, "Is it broken?"
"Stan bought it broken."
"The hell did he do that for?" Kenny turned the air conditioning knob up, only for nothing to come out.
"He just… I think he just wanted to do something big by himself like he wanted to prove he could be independent. I was always coddling him… like a fragile porcelain doll or something. Also, I think he just felt bad for the car because no one else wanted to buy it."
Kenny reached over and pressed the hazards button and both the blinkers chimed in rhythm, pushed it again to turn them off, "Yeah, sounds like Stan."
They listened to radio commercials about restaurants, car dealerships, sex shops, trade schools, all of them interchangable. A couple of days before, when Kyle threw up in front of Kenny for the first time was still very vivid in their minds. Their blood was everywhere, from Kenny's chest and Kyle's mouth. Kenny drew a steaming bath and threw Kyle in, clothes and all, tossed variegated colors of leaves and flowers in with him and made him stay in there for two hours.
"Kenny, who else knows about… you?" Kyle had asked, as Kenny poured more hot water and oils over his hair. Incense burned his nostrils.
"Just Karen. And you now. And…"
"And?"
"...Cartman."
"Cartman knows?!"
Kenny had to explain everything from the beginning. Being younger and just waking up in his bed when it happened, then gradually the pain of the injuries stuck around for awhile after the tree incident and whoever was there could enjoy the spectacle. Including 10-year old Cartman.
When Kyle returned home feeling like an overcooked pork chop, he tried to smoke out of his bedroom window. Black bile came up and he put the cigarette down. He didn't want it anymore.
Sparky stood up again, wagged his tail as a patrol car rolled up the driveway. The driver immediately zeroed in on the boys. He walked out and approached them.
"Are ya'll memebers of the Marsh residence?"
Kenny pointed at Kyle, "He technically is."
Officer Goldberg, as his uniform dictated, he leveled his gaze at Kyle. The other officer walked around. "Where'd that bruise on your face come from, son? You been fightin'?"
Kyle rolled his eyes. He hated the accusatory tone cops took up sometimes, "No. It was an accident."
"Okay, okay. What's your name?"
"Kyle Broflovski."
"And you?"
"Kenny McCormick," Kenny went to shake his hand. Officer Goldberg didn't take it.
"You two were recently at the River Funeral Home?"
"Yes, sir," they both replied, hearts beating fast, synchronized.
"Well, unfortunately, everyone there is dead."
Kyle peered at them, he gripped the rag tighter, "Is this some kind of fucking joke?"
"No, son, everyone that works there is dead. They've been dead since before the Marsh funeral, stacked up on each other in the attic like old Cabbage Patch dolls."
…
COLORADO JUDICIAL COURT
Re: Kyle D. Broflovski
Your official court date has been scheduled for July 13, 2017, at 2:30 pm to appeal for the name change process. Please bring your birth certificate and current driver's license or state ID. You must prepare a statement disproving criminal intent and reasoning behind a legal name change.
Contact the court 48 hours in advance if you cannot make your appointment.