Hello everyone! First let me say that I am HONORED by all of your glowing reviews! I seriously can't believe I have as many as I have- and all of them are SO sweet- and I feel like I'm only getting started with my story. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

"Folks, I know that for some of you, the last test was a breeze, but I am TELLING you that this second one tends to be everyone's Achilles heel,"

I half-listened to Dr. DeMejo give his usual be-ready-for-the-test-in-two-days spiel as I jotted down some formulas he left on the board. Dr. D is such a good teacher and usually I follow him pretty well, but today for whatever reason I'm having a really hard time concentrating. Maybe it's because I'm still thinking about all the bullshit that went down last weekend. I'm just hoping my notes are thorough enough so that I can brush up enough and be ready in two days…. I'll be alright.

After Dr. D dismissed class and I was packing up my book, notebook, folder and calculator, I couldn't help but notice Dr. D's eager face, as if he wanted to say something to me.

"Eric?" He asked.

"Yes Dr. DeMejo?" I responded, wondering if I'm in trouble.

"I wanted to talk to you about your last excel homework."

Shit. I couldn't have forgot to turn it in on time again, could I?

"I thought I sent it to you two days ago, Dr. DeMejo." I answered. I have been VERY anal about sending those in advance now since that last time he got on to me.

"Yes, and I got it fine," He said, but he was pausing, as if thinking about exactly how he wanted to say whatever the hell he wanted to say next.

"BUT…."

Ohhh goodie. Here it comes.

"I had to give you an 85 on it, Eric."

My jaw dropped. Is he fucking serious?!

Dr. D seemed to have read my mind.

"I'm being serious, Eric." He said. "And honestly, most of your mistakes were just simple mistakes. I think you rushed through it."

How fucking DARE he say that! …But yeah he's right. I DID rush through it.

I decided to not try to bullshit him. After all, he is the head of the math department. "I'm sorry Dr. DeMejo. I'll take my time next time and not rush through it."

"I'm not worried about your excel homework," He replied. "All the excel homework is only worth 10% of your total grade. But each one of your tests is worth 15%," He explained. "And there's only 3 tests."

I think he's telling me to not fuck up on Wednesday. "Okay Dr. DeMejo," I said. "I'll be ready Wednesday."

"Okay Eric."

As I was walking from class back to the dorm, I couldn't help but re-live the events of last weekend. After I went back home (irate) I somehow was able to pass out last Thursday. Then Friday morning Kyle and I woke up around the same time 7:45-8:15-ish to get ready for our jobs, as usual. He works at a Barnes and Noble-like store that sells all kinds of second-hand books, movies, and music. I work at a insurance company two days a week, really just interning (and getting paid for it, which is kick-ass).

After I took a shower I saw Kyle in the kitchen, who hadn't bathed yet. He managed to change into his pajamas last night and his hair was big and matted. But he still looked like shit.

He was fixing cereal and orange juice.

"Why did you pull that shit last night?"

He scrunched his face.

"What shit?"

I laughed mockingly. "Lemme guess…. 'You don't remember', right?"

The Jew stood there, bowl of cereal in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other, completely still because he was in deep thought.

"You were at Eleven Bar, right?"

"Mmmmmmm-hmmmmmmmm!" I hummed factiously.

"I remember doing a few shots with Kenny, buying Butters a Sex-on-the-Beach, and then dancing," He said.

"I really don't remember anything past that."

"So you really don't remember picking a fight with me at the bar, do you?" My tone was almost musical, as if I was almost having fun with my sarcasm.

"No Cartman," The daywalker replied, seriously. "What all did I do?"

I looked at the ground, shaking my head.

"It doesn't fucking matter, Jew." And then, before he could say anything else, I added:

"Why do you drink so much?"

"I don't!"

"Oh you don't?"

"No, Cartman! I don't!" The redhead snapped. "It's not like I drink everyday."

I smirked. "Even if you don't, when you do drink, you always get smashed."

Kyle shrugged. "How is it any of your business, anyways?"

I took a step closer, his Jew-nose almost touching mine. "Because when you're starting a huge argument with me in public, that's when it becomes my business."

"Look Cartman, for whatever I did and said last night, I'm really sorry." His eyes seemed genuine, but that didn't faze me one bit.

I sighed. "You're always sorry, Kahl. Each and every time."

The redhead quickly placed his cereal bowl and glass of OJ on the kitchen counter, next to the sink.

"I was drunk, okay Cartman?" He pleaded. "You gotta give me a break sometimes."

I breathed heavily, figuring it would once again be a waste of my time and energy to try to explain to the Jew that I do nothing BUT give him breaks every time he makes an ass out of himself publicly. Without saying another word I decided to go back to my room and work on my hair more before I left for work.

TUESDAY EVENING

"International business, huh?" I chuckled, slicing up the bread the waitress just dropped off.

"Is that why you study French?"

Kyle nodded, waiting anxiously on me to be finished slicing my bread so that he could get started.

Here my roommate and I were, dining out at of the fanciest five-star restaurants in South Park. There was a strict dress code and Kyle and I were both wearing suits. He was wearing a navy blue one with a matching tie and I was wearing black.

"I guess it was an excuse. I've always thought French was a beautiful language."

As I placed the bread knife down I found myself covering my mouth, coughing. "coughcoughFAGcoughcough"

"Whatever, fatass!" The redhead snapped.

Then I noticed how it seemed like everyone around us were couples all dressed up for a night on the town. I guess that would make sense, this being a fucking over-the-top restaurant, way up high on the 18th floor of some fancy snob-ass building. People who dine out in duos here are either couples or business partners. Hopefully people think me and Kyle are the latter.

"So," the redhead cleared his throat, as if making an attempt to continue our almost-civil conversation. "You chose math, right Cartman?"

I took a bite of the bread with butter on it. "Yup," I said with my mouth full, not giving a fuck about manners for a second. I was fucking hungry, and everything in this aristocratic restaurant smelled fucking amazing, dammit!

The Jew made a face, but then tried not to let my lack of bad "table manners" ruin the night. He is SO easy to read.

"After you graduate from South Park, are you planning to get your Master's?"

I shook my head after just biting down on another piece. "Nope!"

The Jew screwed his face. "What? But why?"

"Because I'm going to be an actuary," I explained. "And all I need to do is pass a few exams once I have my Bachelor's."

"What's that?" He asked.

I slammed both of my hands on the table. "Jesus Christ, Kahl!" I'm pretty sure a few heads turned towards our table.

"You're Jewish and you don't know what a fucking actuary is?!"

I'm also pretty sure I heard a few scowls around me, but whatev's. These rich assholes will get over it.

"They use a lot of fucking statistics, Kahl!" I yelled. "They can predict where businesses are going based on historical data."

The Jew's green eyes looked big, as if processing all of this new information.

"Ohh…" He thought aloud. "But why do you want to do that?"

I took another chomp out of the bread. "Because, they fuckin' make bank."

"Like how much?"

"Easily six figures," I replied. "Some are even millionaires….. And I am going to be one of them."

At first the Jew was quiet. Then he stifled a chuckle. My eyebrows furrowed.

"What's wrong, Jew?"

"Oh nothing," He said, then he let out a giggle. "It's just- you plan to be a successful, millionaire-status, mathematician? Haha! " He asked, now not bothering to confine his toothy grin.

I felt my blood pressure rising. Fucking Jew! "YES Kahl," I responded. "Why is that so fucking funny?"

He shook his head and tried to breath for air. "Ohh, it's hee hee not funny, it's just ha ha…. I mean it's so-" Then he could no longer contain himself and he just busted out laughing, much louder than he usually is.

And then I heard him.

My eyes popped open as I heard Kyle's loud, obnoxious and drunk laugh coming through the front door. I looked over at my alarm clock which read 5:06 a.m. It's 5:06 Wednesday in the morning.

MOTHER. FUCKER.

I jumped out of bed and swung open my bedroom door to see what I had already predicted in my mind; Kyle shit-faced as ever with a pretty drunk Kenny trying to prop him up and help him walk.

"Heheheh, shhhhh!" Kenny laughed. "Don't wake them up!"

"GOOD MORNING!" Kyle yelled, then laughing historically.

I marched right up to my asshole roommate.

"Good FUCKING morning, KAHL!" I spat in his face.

Despite his drunken stupor, the Poor Boy tried to get in between us, quickly seeing where things were going.

"Heey mannn," He said, "I'll take care of him, he's just being too-"

I pushed Kenny to the side and once again got in the Jew's face.

"Do you have ANY fucking idea what time it is?" I asked.

He couldn't even look at me straight, he was closing one eye to see me.

"It'ssss not a big deal, Fatass." He said. He hiccupped.

"Oh yes it is, Kahl!" I remained in his face, not budging. "It's a BIG fucking deal when it's the night before your test for your inferential stats class!"

"Fuck YOU and your…. Fucking…. STATS!" Kyle yelled while closing his eyes a good bit.

Then I noticed Butters coming out of his room, and he walked over and stood by Kenny.

"Fellas?" He said, scared.

The Jew hiccupped. "You think you're- some how SHIT- with your math and everything!"

While I was still staring down Kyle, I could see Kenny slowly maneuvering to his bedroom to pass out.

"No Kahl," I responded. "It's just called a good work ethic, which you know nothing about. Maybe one day when you grow a fucking brain you'll understand, you stupid Jew!"

The drunk asshole crocked his head to the left.

"Does saying that make you feel better, Fatass?"

I heaved a pissed off sigh of relief. "Does saying WHAT make me feel better?"

Kyle giggled in a dark way. "You know, all your anti-semantic remarks?" He giggled a little louder. Then the tone of his voice got lower.

"It must make you feel better about not having a father."

Everything got really quiet.

That- ASSHOLE. I wanted to hit him SO hard- more than I ever had in my life before- and for the first time ever I was questioning myself for not doing what I actually felt like doing.

I took a step back, calculating my thoughts.

"Kahl." I said in a calm tone.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember Kevin?"

"Stan's friend?"

I nodded. "Yes, the frat boy."

My asshole roommate shook his head.

"Yes, we used hang out with him, a year ago."

I felt a smile slowly spreading across my lips.

"No, you used to Kahl." I explain. "Kevin and I still hang out."

The redhead's eyes widen. "What?" He said.

"Oh YES Kahl," I started pacing slowly. "Remember that one time we all went to Bobbie's and you puked IN the restaurant, at the table?"

The Jew slowly nodded.

"He told me he never wanted to hang out with you after that," I said, walking back and forth slowly. "He was all like, 'Oh, that's your roommate? How do you live with someone like that?!'"

I studied the Jew's expression. He looked dumbfounded, and so did Butters.

I continued to pace. "So every time you've invited him to "go out", he has intentionally blown you off, all this time." I stopped pacing.

"And Kevin's not the only one."

"N-no, you're just- you're…." My alchie roommate was struggling to respond.

"Ya see Kahl," I now walked straight up to his face. "No one fucking takes you seriously. They have no reason to,"

His emerald eyes were widened, deep in fear.

"You bring everyone down, Kahl." I said.

"No one wants to even be near you."

For a second we had a staring contest. I stared into his emerald eyes with my cold brown ones, making sure I was saying "fuck you!" through my eyes.

Then I saw the tears forming.

And just like that, the Jew turned around as he sobbed, ran to his room, and slammed the door.

"Oh no Eric," Butters said. "Now he's really upset!"

Kyle's sobs were fucking annoying. He was absolutely wailing.

"But did you just hear what he said to me, Butters?!" I pointed to his door.

"I should be fucking upset too!"

"Well, geez…" The blonde struggled with the right words. "I-I know what Kyle said wasn't right, Eric. B-but maybe you should go apologize,"

I rolled my eyes.

"S-so that we can all go to sleep?"

Yeah, I guess my faggoty roommate does have a point. And by the way Kyle is wailing, I guess I should go make sure he's not ready to blow his brains out.

I sighed. "Alright Butters," I said. "I'll take care of it from here. Just go back to fucking bed. Jesus Christ."

Butters seemed encouraged as he wore a faint smile and walked back to his room. Right when he was walking back, Kyle's frantic sobbing stopped.

I walked over to his door and knocked.

"Kahl?"

I knocked again. Nothing.

"Kahl!"

Then one more time, to make sure.

"Gahdammit you stubborn Jew, open the goddamn door!"

Still silence. So, I walked back to my room and grabbed the long nail I use every time I need to break into Kyle's room for some reason. He, of course, as no idea that I do that.

After picking the lock, I saw that he was in his bathroom, with the light on and the door closed. Surprisingly, the bathroom door was unlocked. Guess he didn't feel the need to lock that since his main door was unlocked.

What I saw next absolutely took me for a fucking ride.

Kyle was slouched up, leaning against the bathtub wearing only boxers. His left leg was outstretched and covered in blood that was already dripping on the floor. His right hand was holding a butcher knife.

THE. FUCK.

"Kahl?" I squeaked out, surprised at how weak my voice sounded.

Slowly, the redhead moved his gaze from the floor to meet my eyes. His face was smothered in tears and yet he looked dazed, even more so when he's drunk. Like this was no life at all going on in there.

We both stared at each other for a second, it being completely different than the staring contest we had less than five minute ago.

Jesus Christ, Jew. What is wrong with you?