Stan's Playlist: playlist/2uG26ANbPmdSyEWOwzUHf7
(with the exception of the Strawberry Migraine song. They are not a real band)
"You Don't Get Me High Anymore"/ Phantogram
I'm noticing that I've been verging into songs that don't necessarily reflect how I feel about you, but they've been playing in the background during certain memories. This one was when Phantogram sent me an email with like… 5 seconds of their new album and I freaked the fuck out because we were driving so you drove around an IHOP parking lot trying to find a wi-fi spot so I could watch the video. This was the song.
"Walk with to the end… stare with me into the abyss… do you feel like letting go? I wonder how far down it is…"
Stan was singing softly, bass guitar fumbling in his fists, one foot dangling off the couch. Sharon was in the kitchen making a paint-by-number, Kyle was hiding in the corridor. He was coming back from the bathroom, heard Stan, and stayed around the corner so he could listen. Stan never wanted to sing in front of him. He observed when Stan thought he wasn't, and it was in places like this, in the hallway, around the corner, out of sight.
Sharon poked her head in. "Stanley, where's the dog? I haven't seen him."
Kyle jolted, stepped forward as if he was just now walking back to the living room.
"He's been sunbathing outside. I didn't wanna bother him." Stan plucked some strings.
Kyle lowered himself onto the arm of the couch.
"Please don't sit on there, Kyle. It's still kind of busted from Randy sitting on it," said Sharon.
"Oh," Kyle stood up. "Sorry."
"You're fine." she turned to Stan. "I'm going to let him in. He'll get too hot. It's supposed to be in the 90s today."
As soon as she left, Stan put his Fender aside and grabbed Kyle by the waistline, pushing him onto his lap.
"Why would you sit on that hard-ass arm when you can sit on me?" He glided his hand around the back of Kyle's neck and tugged him into a kiss.
"It's not that much different. You're always hard, too."
"And whose fault would that be?"
They heard the sliding glass door from the kitchen, the sounds of Sharon walking outside.
Kyle took Stan by the shoulders and forced him down to the side, climbed on top, kissed him hard, sliding his fingers into Stan's tank top, up his soft stomach.
"Dude," said Stan in between kisses. "My mom might walk back in any second."
"That just makes it more fun."
"You're the fucking devil."
A piercing shriek came from the backyard, causing the boys to clash teeth and bolt up from the couch. "God damn it, bad dog!"
They rushed outside to see Sharon holding Sparky back by the collar. He was drooling, pulling toward something in the grass, paws paddling in the air.
"What's going on?" Stan reached for Sparky.
"There's a dead rabbit." Stan gave Stan the collar. His face dropped.
Kyle stepped forward.
"Ugh," he muttered, pulling his tee-shirt over his nose. The putrid and sweet stink of sulfur pushed to the back of his throat, gagging him.
"Jesus, is it that bad?" Stan asked.
"Don't look," Kyle warned.
There was a rabbit corpse, the bottom half already devoured the end of its spine stuck out. No doubt Sparky caught and killed it.
Stan peered over anyway, glimpsing the bloodied fur and vacant, black eyes. He looked down at Sparky, who was still panting, tail wagging.
"Mrs. Marsh, if you have a shovel and a garbage bag, I'll get rid of it for you," Kyle walked back over to Sharon and Stan, coughing a little. "I need a mask or a towel around my face, though."
Stan started to drag Sparky away. "I'm going to go hose out his mouth."
Kyle walked home, took a shower to get the stench off of him, and came right back. Now they were laying on Stan's bed, watching Vine compilations on his laptop, when Sparky lumbered in through the cracked door. Stan groaned as the "Doberman-wolf mix" (as Stan always claimed him to be) jumped up on the bed with them, wagging his tail.
"What's the matter, Stan?" Kyle paused the video right after "I saw you hanging out with Caitlin yesterday!" "Rebecca, it's not what you think!" and propped himself up on his elbows.
Stan sighed. "I just can't believe how he mangled that rabbit."
"He's a dog, Stan. That's what animals do. They hunt." The canine stretched, squatted down on all fours and put his head on Stan's thighs, tail still thumping on the mattress. Stan didn't move. "Dude, he wants you to pet him."
"I'm afraid he'll bite my hand off."
"Don't be ridiculous. He loves you."
Stan sighed again. He knew Kyle was right. Gingerly, he patted Sparky's head. "I've just never seen him do that before. Like, I've seen him chase squirrels and stuff, but I've never thought about what would happen if he actually caught one."
"Well I guess you have an idea now."
"I still don't really like it."
"What's he supposed to do? He doesn't know any better. All he knows is to eat, sleep, fuck, and protect you. It's natural. If Sparky had been the size of that rabbit, and the rabbit the size of Sparky, the rabbit would eat Sparky. It's like that dumb fish game we used to play in the computer lab where you played as the small fish and kept having to eat fish smaller than you to get bigger."
"I just couldn't imagine taking another life so I could keep living. It would break me."
Kyle half-smiled. He scratched Sparky behind the ears. "Animals don't have those kinds of morals. Especially wild ones."
"We're animals."
Kyle leaned down and kissed him, cupping his cheek. "Yeah, we are. If your mom hadn't been around, I would have nailed you on that couch earlier."
"Oh, I know." They kissed more, the air conditioning humming through walls, Stan taking the Old Spice Lavender that Kyle just showered with. Sparky shimmied a little, rubbing his nose on the comforter. Kyle pulled away and planted a soft kiss on the tip of Stan's nose.
"I love you, Stanley Eula Marsh."
"Ugh!" Stan shoved his palm into Kyle's chest and rolled his eyes, "I love you too, Kyle David Broflovski."
"Yeah, I set myself up for that one," Kyle laughed.
Stan nestled his head into the pillow, "So, I have a question for you, Kyle David Broflovski."
"Ha, what?"
"If it meant you could stay alive, would you kill someone?"
"Are you being serious?"
"Yeah."
Squinting at Stan's face, lips straight, eyes focused, Kyle could see he was serious about being serious.
"I mean, that's never going to happen. But… yeah, if someone was threatening me to the point where it was my life or theirs, I would kill them."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"It does… but, if I'm dead, then I won't be able to be with you anymore."
"What if it wasn't even a stranger? Like, what if Cartman was ever released from juvie and came after us?"
Kyle turned cold, his blood stopping in his veins. "I would kill him."
"I don't like the way you said that just now," Stan said, his voice slow, apprehensive, "If you killed him, you would stoop to his level."
"I don't care for that argument. For someone like Cartman, there are no levels. He goes by his own rules. If he ever tried to hurt you, or me, morals be damned. I wouldn't hesitate."
"Damn, okay Kyle. But that will never happen."
"Still, if it did." Kyle unpaused the video.
"I won't hesitate, bitch!"
"In My Life"/ The Beatles
There are
Places
(i remember)
All my life
Life
Though some have changed
Some
Forever
Not for better
Not for better not for better not for better not for better not for better
This song is on every fucking love playlist
I'm an idiot Kyle
I should just die
They were in Stan's car, for some reason, speeding down the dark dirt road. Kenny pushed his toes into the pedal down, down, down, down, but they only seemed to float under the sky, satin black robes stretched over swaying fields.
"Ooooooooooo," Kyle's voice rose in his throat, crinkling like an old camera film. He was looking out the window.
"Ooooooooooo," he started again as if Kenny couldn't hear him the first time. They were driving so fast, and he had no idea what from. Something, something.
"Ooooooooooo," Kyle started again, looking at Kenny now, a cigarette in his hand. His fingernails were gone- every time he changed his grip, drips of bleed slithered like crimson worms down his white fingers.
"Ooooooooooo beautiful for spacious skies," he waved at the roof, sending blood and smoke all over the dashboard. "For amber waves of grain," He slapped his palm on the window. "Get it, Kenny? Because there are fucking fields."
"Yeah, I get it. Put your seatbelt on, Kyle."
Kyle took a long drag, inhaling until his eyes were the same color as the orange glowing circle. "Why? I don't want to be here."
"I want you to be here. So, please. Put it on."
"Make me."
"I'm driving."
Kyle turned, placed his elbow on the headrest. He stared at Kenny until he drooled. He ceased blinking. Kenny kept pushing. They had to get away. Of what, he still wasn't sure, but the feeling weighed down his stomach.
"This is it," Kyle said softly, still drooling, focused on Kenny.
"What?"
Kyle opened his mouth again and Kenny heard static. A dark figure stepped out into the road. Kenny swerved and drove directly into a ditch, sending Kyle through the windshield. Glass shattered around the top of his head. Kenny swore he saw his neck twist all the way around.
Kenny loosened his hand on the steering wheel, the pads of his fingers dragging down on the leather, resting on his knees.
"Oh no no no no no no…" he whispered, heart thumping.
He glimpsed in the rearview mirror. The figure, towering in stature, unnaturally still, collapsed into crumpled fabric and dragged itself across the gravel, back into the amber waves of grain.
Kenny pulled the handle, stepped out, breathing heard, not feeling his legs, wondering if they had just been severed off somehow, and he had become mist.
Illuminated by headlights was Kyle's body, mangled, stalks of grain bending over him like they were staring and whispering to one another, telling the soil: work your way up, disintegrate the flesh, we'll take him now.
His head was turned to the car, his eyes peering directly at Kenny. He walked, dropped to his knees beside him, picked him up and put his head to his chest.
Nothing. Empty. No beat. No sloshing stomach sounds. Nothing.
"Kyle!" he cried out, put a hand on his cheek, "I am so, so sorry, I am so sorry, oh my god."
Whispering behind him: You'll get over it eventually. Time lets the blood dry.
Static poured from Kyle's mouth again, shocking Kenny awake. Fizzling gray and white lines glowed on the small Panasonic television in their family room. He'd done it again. Coming home from work, completely exhausted, not even remembering driving home, he dove onto the couch and passed out during a Twilight Zone marathon.
(well fuck its no wonder)
(i hope i never dream dream that again)
"Gut Me"/ Strawberry Migraine
For the brain corrosion,
The boy with the yellow sleeves,
Make me an ocean, don't
Don't make me grieve
Go bring your
Halloween somewhere else
If you can't be with me
In my Hell
Okay, okay, so again, the lyrics don't summarize our relationship. But this was the first song they played when we came out to our parents and ran off to that concert. Everything felt so simple and so complicated at the same time. We were constantly breathing each other, and our parents told us we needed to chill, that this "puppy love" stage wouldn't last, and they were partially right. I'm glad that we're not shy around each other anymore. I'm grateful that we're comfortable together. Instead of puppies, we're like two old basset hounds sleeping next to each other on a patio. I feel like I'm home when I'm with you. Really home.
One time you told me that you get scared around me sometimes because you can't tell what I'm thinking.
I'll be honest, I wish I could know what you're thinking too.
We threw away Stan's mattress today. It was like disposing of biohazardous material, the way the blood was dried on that quilted pattern… I could barely stand to look at it.
I think I heard him. I think I heard him as if he were inside of it, trapped in the springs, calling "Kyle, Kyle, Kyle…"
There's no way I'll be able to take this much longer. No fucking way. I'm not strong enough. I'm too weak. Always been weak.
"Zero Gravity"/ Kerli
If you can, listen to this one with headphones on, because the bass is absolutely fucking killer, and I know you're a sucker for a good bass.
All the pain in me
No more needs to be expressed
Feels like I can breathe
You lift a burden off my chest
Traces of sadness
No more chain me to the ground
I am limitless
Ever since you came around
I'm as light as I can be
You got me feeling weightless
You take me on an odyssey
You got me feeling weightless
You make me float free
My love for you is endless
No ties are binding me
Oh I'm in zero gravity
Strands of hair curtaining her face, Karen McCormick bent over her chemistry homework, clenching her jaw, pencil never stirring. The people in Tweek Bros. lounged about, drowning in wooden chairs typing on their laptops. Kyle had already sucked down his drink (quad espresso, easy vanilla, extra ice, no cream). Karen had yet to touch the frozen hot chocolate that Tweek put rainbow sprinkles on for her. "This is how Craig's little sister likes it."
A wobbling table was the only one left. Kyle took one of the cardboard sleeves from the counter and crammed it under a leg.
"Do you need help? You've written nothing in two minutes," he asked, applying chapstick.
She rattled her head.
"Can you even see anything?" Kyle joked, though it really seemed like she couldn't see well.
"Kind of." Karen tucked a tendril of chestnut hair behind her ear. It fell in front of her face again.
Kyle reached into his pocket and yanked out a hair tie. "Here," he said, placing it in front of her. "Sometimes I need my hair out of my face, too."
She took the tie and pulled her hair back. "Thank you. I forgot mine."
"No problem." He looked at her now bare face: the delicate eyebrows, hooded blue eyes, lips upturned into a smirk. "God, you look so much like Kenny. It's insane."
"I hope you mean that in a good way."
"For sure. Sometimes I wish Ike and I looked more alike so that people would believe we're brothers."
Flipping the pencil over and erasing the previous equation, she said: "All that we love deeply becomes a part of us."
"Wow, you sound like Kenny, too."
"That was Helen Keller," Karen smiled, wiping eraser shavings off her paper with a skinny arm. "But really, it doesn't matter if people think or don't think he's your brother. You've loved him like a brother, so he is… I guess I sound like Kenny, figures. I have to listen to him talk all the time."
Taking the lid off the plastic cup, he tried to glance at what she was writing. They had only been there twenty minutes and would still try to hide her thought process in graphite.
"Kenny's been talking a lot more these days. It's nice." He tipped the cup forward, pouring ice into his mouth.
She furrowed her brow. "He's always been a talker. At least to me. No one ever listens."
Kyle bit down on the ice. All the times Kenny was wordless during social gatherings, if not quiet; often he'd lean to Kyle and make a comment or ask a question- retract as soon as someone else noticed he was talking- pull his hoodie back over his face and become a statue.
"Kenny's a good guy. He deserves to be listened to."
"He probably wouldn't want to be heard all the time. Kenny hates the spotlight."
All the time he knew Kenny, he was never the guy to vault into the center of anything. "He says things when it matters. Speaking of things that matter… are you going to let me see the question you're working on?"
Karen sighed, slumped back, and pushed the paper toward Kyle, "I guess I have to at some point."
"I'm sure it's not that bad." He looked at her drink. "Your whipped cream is melting, dude."
Karen laughed. "Dude? No one's ever called me dude before. Someone has called me a bitch, but not a dude."
"Who called you a bitch? You're only 15. No one should call you a bitch."
Drinking her frozen hot chocolate now, Karen shrugged. "Usually it's other girls at school. But I've been called a whore too. It evens out. I like dude, though."
Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. He was already forgetting how savage high school kids could be. "Okay, well, I'm a whore too. A whore for science. Let's look at this homework."
Karen snorted while Kyle smoothed out the packet in front of him: "Okay, this doesn't look too bad- oh, you can only have two electrons in the first shell."
"Mr. Garrison said it's four."
"Well, Mr. Garrison sucks. I've had to teach myself so much shit. And then try to teach it to Stan."
Karen pursed her lips and looked down at her lap. "Stan was nice."
"Yeah, he was. And smart, just like you." Kyle erased the four dots she had and glanced up to see that Karen was still looking down, blinking hard. "So, if it's sulfur, it has 16 protons and 16 electrons. The first shell will have two electrons, then eight, then six…" He drew three circles before noticing sniffling coming from Karen. "Are you okay, Karen?"
"Yes," she whispered, wiping her eyes.
Kyle got up, walked over to the customer prep table, and returned with a napkin. Moving his hand toward Karen's face, she gasped, flinching with her shoulders tense.
"Sorry, it's just a napkin."
"Oh, thanks." She took it and dabbed under her eyes.
Kyle sat down across from her, hands on his knees. The remaining ice in his cup was melting. "Did you think I was going to hit you?"
"No… Just a reflex, I guess."
"I have the same one, unfortunately…"
Karen said nothing, continuing to wipe her eyes and nose.
"It's okay if you're frustrated, Karen-"
"-I have to go to the bathroom," she sprang and ran around the corner, flip-flops squishing on the wood-paneled floor.
Tweek peeked out from behind the espresso machine. "Is she okay?"
Kyle shrugged and shook his head. He approached the counter. "Can I get a bagel for her or something? She seems a little shaky. I don't think she's had lunch yet."
Craig emerged from the back, pulling an apron over his head. "We have quiches now, you know."
"Yeah, would she eat a quiche?"
"I guess."
"Cool," Craig pulled one out of the fridge. "Nice septum ring, by the way. It makes me want to wave a red flag in front of your face."
"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Craigory."
Kyle meandered around, watching the other patrons drink and chat, or read the newspaper. All the people he had known at one point or another. He stood in front of the community board and read over several flyers: "Chester's Lawn Service," "Estate Sale on Verner Street," "Making Time for God." Kyle rolled his eyes at that one. The appeal of atheism was trickling, drop by drop into his brain, though Kenny's situation warbled any logic he was used to. "Golden Broncos Summer Survival Camp" then "Now Casting: Titus Andronicus:"
The Park County Theatre Company is now casting for William Shakespeare's famous (and infamous) first tragedy. Please come prepared to read several roles. We will hold auditions at the South Park Community Center Friday, June 23rd and Saturday, June 24th from 5 pm to 7 pm. Actors of all ages, race, and gender are welcome.
"Fuck, that's tomorrow." Kyle muttered.
"What's tomorrow?" Karen's tiny voice behind him.
"Oh, um, auditions for this play." He put a finger on the flyer. "It's Shakespeare. It's not my favorite play by him. I think Othello has a more solid structure… but this would be cool to be a part of."
"You like Shakespeare?" Karen asked, her voice incredulous.
"Whore for science, slut for Shakespeare."
Karen grinned, though her eyes were still watery and pink.
"Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?" Kyle put the back of his hand on her forehead. "You don't feel warm."
"I'm fine. I'm just not… good at science."
"That's not true. You just have a shitty teacher that plays Love Boat reruns instead of actually teaching." He guided her back to their table, where Craig had already set down two quiche slices on olive plates. "We'll figure this out."
She sat down, chewing on her lip. "This is for me?"
"One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well."
Karen picked up a fork and drove it into the spinach and bacon concoction, "Virginia Woolf."
"Damn right."
"I'm sorry I cried in front of you."
"Don't be. Sometimes we have to fight to understand things. It's hard. I've cried in front of people that I didn't want to." He pulled out his phone to see a message from Kenny. "Oh, it's your brother."
"Tell him I said 'holla'."
12:40 pm- Kenny: So how many dumb science puns are you feeding to my sister
12:42 pm- Kyle: I'm saving them all for you, actually :P
12:43 pm- Kenny: Ughhhhhh… why are you such a goob
12:44 pm- Kyle: I'm a WAT?
12:45 pm- Kenny: GOOB. WEINER. DORK.
12: 47 pm- Kyle: Your sister's a genius btw. She's over here quoting Helen Keller and shit… it's almost scary
12: 48 pm- Kenny: I know she is. I think she got nerfed by being put in this family
12:49 pm- Kyle: :/
Kyle: Also she said to tell you holla?
12:50 pm- Kenny: Tell her I ain't no hollaback girl
12:51 pm- Kyle: ...really? Am I really the goob here?
"He's said he's not a hollaback girl… what kind of inside joke is that?"
"We just both really, really like that song."
Kyle laughed, "Yeah, apparently. How's the quiche?"
"It's really good… thank you."
"Okay, I'm glad. I know I can't think straight when I'm hungry. Not that I ever think straight to begin with."
"Ha, neither does Kenny." Karen said without thinking. She gasped, and dropped her fork.
"Wait, what?"
"Forever"/ Trevor Something
I always feel high when we listen to Trevor Something because all of his songs sound so dreamy, like they're from another planet. When I'm with you, it feels like I'm in a miraculous dream, but the best part of that is that it's not a dream, it's our reality. And I'm so happy that it is.
Just inhale the smoke and let yourself go
To a realm that's unknown you won't be alone
Were leaving this place to infinite space
Our kind is embraced thank god and give grace
Take my hand and we could do this together
Don't be afraid this will make everything better
I want this feeling forever
I want this feeling forever and ever
"Butters, can you hand me the light?" Kenny crossed the front of the shop and dove under a car.
"Here," Butters slid the light under.
"God, everything is rusted to shit here."
"That's what she said."
Kenny laughed, scratching some flakes off with a fingernail, "Yeah, that's one rusty taint for sure."
"Can you see what's wrong?"
"Not yet. I'm not surprised… As soon as I saw this bitch get towed in, I knew we were fucked."
"Why even bother?" grumbled Butters.
"Buying cars is a hassle… but still, seriously, fuck this Plymouth dude. Fuck!"
"What?"
"I think I cut myself."
"Oh no."
"Wait, no. It's only a scratch. I'm fine." Kenny scooted out. "We need masks. Something is starting to stink."
"The masks don't smell great either," Butters commented.
"I'd rather smell the styrofoam than whatever roadkill is stuck in here."
"You think that's what the problem is?"
"Doubt it. But just in case, I could go without having squirrel guts raining on my face."
"That's fair," Butters popped open the hood and inspected the engine as Kenny climbed back under, fully masked, "So, I guess you and Bebe are done, huh?"
"We never began, Butters. It was just a casual thing."
"She seemed to really like you, though."
"Really liked my dick would be more accurate. And she wasn't the only one I was with anyway. But it doesn't matter. Her and Wendy are halfway across the ocean by now."
"Good to know that you're a walking STD," Butters giggled, then stopped at the realization. "Wait, did you touch Heidi when we were broken up?"
"No," Kenny lied. He made a mental note to tell Butters the truth when he wasn't trapped underneath an elevated car.
"I didn't think so," Butters leaned in to see the coolant levels. "So, uh, how's Kyle been?"
"Good, I guess. He quit smoking, got a nose piercing, I'm pretty sure he's going to shave his head next. You know, the usual stuff." He dug his hands into pipes.
"I hope he stops smoking for good."
"I think he will this time. He had extra help." Damn… Should have worn gloves. I'm so unprofessional. He liked the feeling though. When the problem touched his skin, Kenny knew how to fix it. What protection did he really need anyway? Thinking back to the blood he hacked into the bathroom sink (dying for real this time i might be going soon goodbye you guys) and the blood that came from Kyle's fingers in the dream, to see his neck twist over and over again, to see him dead in the field. Kenny's own blood buzzed like a hornet's nest, dread burrowing further into his belly.
Butters slammed down the hood, stealing Kenny's breath away. He convulsed, wheezed.
"Kenny? Are you okay?"
"I'm f-fine," Kenny crawled out, his chest tightening. Butters pulled the mask
"Whoa, you're really fucking pale."
"Pale?"
"Your lips are purple- Kenny?"
Swelling of static filled Kenny like a balloon. Butters's face disappeared, everything switched to black.
For 45 seconds, he dreamt he was floating downstream, all of his friends and family squatting on the banks, watching with their knees hugged to their chests and their eyes somber.
He woke up to Butters pressing a cold cloth to his forehead, "Oh thank God. I called an ambulance."
"No, no, cancel it." Kenny tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Pain surged up and down his arm, forcing him back down.
"Just stay. God, you're sweating bullets."
"What's happening to m-me?"
"Kenny, I think you're having a heart attack. I called Kyle, too."
Ambulance sirens called in the distance. "Fuck, no. Don't. He's with my sister right now."
"I already called him. I'm sorry…"
"From Here to Mars"/ Coheed and Cambria
Honey, it's in the stars
And you're my everything from here to Mars
And every word I say I truly mean
Dear darling, I hope I'm being clear
'Cause there's no one like you on earth
That can be my universe
Kyle. Babe.
I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will always love you, and I'll always want you to be happy. Never be afraid to be yourself. Never feel stupid for standing in the rain and watching how droplets form puddles.
I can't wait to see the amazing things that you'll do.
Happy birthday.
I love you so much.
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