A Note From Ben: This one is really long and it took me a long time to get it all down, so if you notice something that's a little…off…please let me know and I'll fix it. I try and proofread as much as I can, but sometimes things do slip by me.

Chapter Four – A Long History

Darkness; all we see as we resume our story is a pitch black void. If we were to hold our hands in front of our faces, we would not see the fingers that we know are there. What is this place we've stepped into? We can tell that someone or something else is here, for we can hear them breathing softly. As we stand here trying to figure out what's going on, there is a soft rapping sound.

"Bubee?" the voice of Kyle's mom calls out.

"Go away," we hear someone say from nearby.

We hear the click of a door being opened and soft light floods the darkness. We can see now that we have been standing in Kyle's room, no more than a foot and a half from his bed, where he currently lays, looking miserable. The darkness was achieved by the young Jew hanging several layers of blankets, sheets, towels, and anything else he could find over the window to block out the sunlight.

"Come on, Kyle," Sheila says, "it's been three days now."

"I don't care."

"Everyone's missed you at school."

"I can think of at least two people who haven't."

Kyle turns onto his side and faces the blocked window, not wanting to see his mother at all. We step back so we can see them both at the same time. Sheila stands in the doorway, her hands on her hips and a look of worry on her plump face. She wants to do something to help her son, whom she protects obsessively, but obviously can't.

"I bet Stan has forgiven you already," she says optimistically.

"Doubt it."

She shakes her head and walks off, closing the door behind her. The darkness consumes us again.

"I-I'm sorry, Stan," we hear Kyle say.

Not really wanting to dwell in this darkness anymore, we leave Kyle to his solitude and leave the room. We head down the stairs to the kitchen, where Sheila and Gerald are talking frantically to someone via speakerphone.

"We're so worried about him, Sharon!" Sheila wails. "Can't you do something?"

"I can try talking to Stanley," says the person on the other end, "but I can't promise anything. You know how stubborn they can both be."

Gerald begins pacing the kitchen, rubbing his knuckles in worry.

"We've tried everything, Mrs. Marsh," he says, "we've tried talking, negotiating, and threatening him. Hell, we've even tried to order him to get out of bed. He just won't move."

"I'll see what I can do."

Within fifteen minutes, there is a knock on the door and the two worried parents jump up to answer it. We can see the concerned look on Stan's face as he enters the house with his mother. We follow him as he goes upstairs alone and knocks on Kyle's door.

"Go away," a muffled voice says.

"Kyle…" he says, "It's me."

"Stan!" we hear Kyle exclaim. There are hurried footsteps and the door flies open.

Kyle reaches for Stan, but the other boy pulls back, shaking his head. He walks silently into the room (with us right behind him) and closes the door. He then turns back and looks Kyle up and down, disappointment and pity evident in his eyes.

"I'm only here," he says coldly, "because your parents called mine and said you were having a little pity-party."

"Is that a fact? So you're still angry at me for something I didn't do?"

Stan closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"It's not like that at all," he says.

"Oh, it is," Kyle replies. "You wouldn't even let me explain myself!"

"I don't have time for this."

Stan moves toward the door, his mind set on going. Kyle, shocked, almost lets him walk out before coming to his senses. He jumps in front of him and blocks the door, a hurt and angry look on his face.

"Move Kyle!" Stan shouts.

"Not until you listen!"

Stan gets in his former best friend's face and meets him glare-for-glare. They are staring each other down now, each challenging the other with a look to make the first move. Their hands are balled into fists at their sides and it isn't hard to see that the slightest twitch of an eyelash could start them fighting.

"I'm going to tell you one more time, Kyle: get out of my way!" Stan shouts.

"No."

It happens almost faster than we can see it: Stan's fist becomes a blur and a split second later Kyle's nose is busted open. He cries out in pain and reaches up with his green mittens to stop the flow of blood. Stan takes this an opportunity to punch him in the stomach and then push him out of the way.

"I told you to move," he says, almost regretfully, before opening the door and walking out. Kyle lies on the floor for several minutes, whimpering and bleeding, before his parents rush up to his aid. They help him to his feet and then support him as they take him toward the bathroom to clean him up.

We'll take this opportunity to move to the next day. Kyle is sitting in Mr. Mackey's office again, and we are once more seated on the floor where we can see them both.

"I hate him!" Kyle exclaims.

"Mmkay, are you maybe just saying that because he punched you?" Mackey replies.

"No," comes the reply, "it's because he's a pig-headed, egocentric asshole."

"Mmkay, mmkay. I'm starting to see what's going on here."

"Good! Would you please tell me, because I'm confused as hell."

"First of all, mmkay, I want you to tell me about you and Stan."

Kyle was starting to get pissed. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about. On top of that, he had asked for answers, and instead of getting them he was being asked more questions! On the other hand, he figures, the more he cooperates with this guy, the sooner this whole unpleasant experience will end.

"Fine," he says, irritated, "what do you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning, mmkay."

So Kyle begins to spill the entire history of the friendship he's had with Stan to a man he doesn't trust in the least…

It was Kyle's first day of pre-school and he already wished he could go home. He had been insulted by a fat kid because of his red hair and freckles, and then he had been called a "stupid Jew" by the same fat asshole. He felt hurt and vulnerable and just wanted to go home to his momma, where he would be given kosher cookies and be called "bubee". Nobody would make fun of him there.

He was sitting in a corner of the pre-school building, covering his head with his hands so no one would see his hair, and crying his eyes out. He didn't notice when the boy with the black hair came up to him, nor did he notice as this kid began to stare at him. He only noticed him when he was tapped on the shoulder.

"W-what?" he asked defensively, peering around his forearms. "What do you want?"

The boy held out his hand and offered him a tissue.

"It looked like you needed this."

"Th-thank you," Kyle said.

"My name's Stan," he said. "Want to play?"

The little Jew nodded shyly and wiped his eyes. He then got up and followed him across the room, where they played together all afternoon. He was having so much fun, he completely forgot to be self-conscious about his hair.

Kyle was sick as hell. He couldn't remember ever feeling this bad before. He was pretty sure he was going to die, especially considering that the only person in town who could save his life was Cartman. The fat bastard was certainly taking perverse pleasure in watching him die. He wouldn't even donate a kidney for him unless Kyle forked over ten million dollars.

Stan had gone to his defense, working his hardest to get Cartman to part with a kidney and ultimately tricking him into giving one. When his friend did that for him, his respect and admiration for him grew exponentially, and his heart swelled with affection.

He was trapped in a bubble and it was rapidly filling with water. He knew he was on his own this time. He had treated Stan like shit and had told him flat-out that they weren't best friends anymore. He had thrown away the greatest thing that had ever happened to him so he could stay in Blainetology. Now, as the water level in the bubble got higher and higher, he was seriously regretting this decision.

Suddenly, as he was about to give up all hope, he heard a voice from somewhere close by screaming that someone had killed Kenny.

"You bastards!" he cried, hoping he would be heard.

"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!" he heard again.

"YOU BASTARDS!" he screamed as loud as he could.

"Oh, my God! They killed Kenny!"

On and on, they screamed back and forth until Stan finally saw the bubble and Kyle trapped within it. He rushed to his side, not judging him for a moment. He never even held a grudge against him for what he did. Stan's first words to him weren't "I told you so" or any other rub-it-in-your-face phrases; they were the words of a boy who was scared he was going to lose someone very dear to him.

"Kyle, you can't kill yourself!"

"I don't want to kill myself!" Kyle told him. "They rigged this thing to fill with water!"

So, Stan had set to work trying to save him again. It had looked hopeless at first, but with a little divine intervention (from Jesus and the Super Best Friends), Kyle was set free, as were thousands of the other Blainetologists.

"Thanks, Stan," he told him afterwards, "you're my Super Best Friend."

"You're my Super Best Friend, too."

We are still sitting in Mackey's office with Kyle. They've been here over two hours as story after story poured forth from the young boy's mouth; some funny, some sad, and some extremely touching. Eventually, Kyle's throat became sore from talking so much and couldn't go on.

"Mmkay," Mackey says, looking a little moist around the eyes, "I think that's enough for the day. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and reflect on everything you've told me, mmkay."

Kyle nods and gets up and walks out of the room. We stay with him as he leaves the school building and begins walking toward Stark's Pond. We arrive with him at the familiar little body of water within minutes, where he sits on a hollow log. He stays there for a long time, watching the sun set and thinking over his long history with Stan.

"All we've been through," he says, "all we've done. My 'Super Best Friend'…"

As Stan's face hovers in his mind, he feels a wave of great affection wash over him and he realizes that Mackey had been right all along. He doesn't hate Stan; he never did.

"How could I hate you?" he says with a warm smile on his face. "You've done so much for me, Stan. I…"

The truth finally hits home and it shows on Kyle's face. His eyes become as wide as saucers and his mouth hangs open. Under better circumstances, this might have actually been comical.

"…I love you," he finishes, absolutely shocked. "Oh, Stan!"

He gets up and runs off into the night.