Cartman
"Oh my god, you killed Kenny!" Stan said as usual whenever I saw Kenny die.
Yes, he had died once again, and I was getting pretty sick of it.
"You bastards!" Kyle exclaimed per usual.
Then he looked at me because I wasn't saying anything. I was blank, not showing any concern for my friend who had died.
"Well, Cartman, aren't you gonna say anything you fat fuck?" Stan asked.
"Yeah, asshole! He's our friend!" Kyle said.
"Am I your guys friend? Cause so far you've called me a fat fuck and an asshole." I said. "He dies all the time anyway." I said. "Who cares?"
"What do you mean Kenny dies all the time?" Kyle asked.
I rolled my eyes. Ugh, there we go again. I seemed like an uncaring asshole when really, it was getting pretty old to me. I knew dying hurt Kenny, but Kyle and Stan didn't know and never believed me and called me delirious. They thought I was in a disturbed mental state of mind, and so did my mom when I told her, but I didn't have fucking problems like people in therapy or anger management.
"Dude, don't roll your eyes at me!" Kyle said. "What do you mean Kenny dies all the time? Are you having another episode?"
"I'm not having another fucking-" I stopped myself. "No. It's kewl. I'm kewl, Kyle. I'm just stunned."
"Oh, that's alright, dude." Stan said. "People react differently to death. Kyle didn't even care when all I saw was shit and neither did you."
"I'm sorry, Stan. Let's get over it." Kyle said.
"Sure." Stan said.
"Yeah. So can we get ice cream?" I asked. "That makes me feel better."
"Sure, let's go get ice cream." Stan said. "Should we just leave him there?" He asked.
"Yeah, dumbass, or they'll think we killed Kenny if our DNA gets on it!" Kyle said.
"And I cannot go to jail." I said. "There's a new Nintendo WII game coming out next month."
"You'll probably just go to jail for something else, fuck ass." Kyle said.
"I'm gonna ignore that." I said.
Ever since that therapist called me fat to try and see if I ever really did have anger problems, my mom took me to a different therapist who didn't call me fat. I was pretty sure she told him not to because of what had happened last time where I made his wife commit suicide by thinking he was some sort of pedophile who talked to little boys online. And that wasn't even the worst thing I had done! I saw my dead friend Kenny die over and over again and my friends knew nothing about it. I was the only one who knew.
"Doctor, why do some people see ghosts?" I asked.
"Well, Eric," he said, "people are more prone to see a ghost when they are in an altered state of consciousness."
"But I'm not in an altered state of consciousness. I really do see Kenny die all the time." I insisted.
He didn't believe me.
"Hey, Damien." I said when I had walked up to him.
I hadn't really talked to him since he was the new kid. He was almost always in the background after he had his temper tantrum and claimed he was from a lawyer of hell. Maybe I could relate to him in some way, since Kenny went to hell.
"What do you want?" He asked.
He had changed since he was the new kid.
"You're from hell, right?" I asked.
"Yeah, but I still have to go to school." He said.
"Well, none of the other guys know that Kenny dies all the time and I'm having trouble relating to them right now." I said.
"So?" He asked.
"So?!" I scoffed. "Come on, dude. You can't still be mad at me for not inviting you to my birthday party."
"I'm not. I just don't like you." He said.
"I know. I know you don't like me." I said. "But I was wondering if I can visit the seventh layer of hell to see Kenny 'cause he's my best friend and I miss him."
That would probably work. Sympathy for the devil.
"You want to visit the seventh layer of hell?" He asked. "Why?"
"I just told you why, dingus." I said. "Or are you not really from there?"
"I am." He said.
"Well, if you're the prince of darkness," I said, "then prove it."
"Fine. I will." He said.