AN: Okay, sorry once again for the length of time between updates! I hope some of you are still reading and excited or happy or anything positive to see this update. There are 3 reasons/excuses for the delay:

1) I was being lazy...yeah

2) Work's been crazy and annoying and long

3) And the best reason of all, this chapter was actually going to be much longer, but when I realized it was probably going to end up being ~25 pgs I felt like that might turn some ppl off (I like long chapters but idk about all you out there in cyber land) so I chopped it up. The good news is that the next chap should thus be out in a few days!

Thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing, adding this story as a fav or on alert, etc. Nothing makes my day like seeing an add on my stories or a review, esp a review! Thank you so much, you guys are awesome! And I still would appreciate any more reviews...esp if I'm getting sucky or something, but also if you're digging the story too (those are more fun to read).

Any-whoseits, I don't own SP or its characters. Onto the chapter!

"You!
I wanna take you to a gay bar,
I wanna take you to a gay bar,
I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar"- "Gay Bar" Electric Six

That night was spent like many of Kyle's. He ate dinner with his family. Then he retreated to his room to complete his homework in a timely and orderly fashion. After that he bullshitted around on the internet and chatted to Stan online intermittently as the football player juggled simultaneous conversations between Kyle and his girlfriend, who managed to take up a lot of Stan's time for his insistence that they were "just casual". Like clockwork, at half past ten his mother came up and told him it was time to shut off his computer and go to bed, so he did and bade his mother his usual "Night, Ma," and put up with her hug and kiss to his forehead. Then he brushed his teeth, changed into pajamas, set his alarm, slipped under the covers, and turned off his bedside light. And then it was dark and still in his room, the only noises being the occasional murmur of his parents talking downstairs or the sounds of the house groaning and settling. Kyle waited for sleep.

But one half hour came and went. He heard his parents ascend the stairs quietly; the hallway light flicked off with the sound of the switch and his parents' bedroom door squeaked open and shut. Now the entire house was still and dark. In theory it should've felt peaceful, but, of course, theory and real life are two very different things.

In stark contrast to the lullaby of stillness and darkness Kyle felt wide awake and aware. It was a disturbing feeling, this paradox. It didn't help that he could practically feel his pupils ever widening in a feeble attempt to absorb any light in the darkness.

His thoughts were also far from sleep inducing.

His mind wasn't whirling tonight. There was nothing to whirl about. There were no conclusions to be drawn, no conjectures to be made, no solutions to be derived, no problems to ponder, or questions to ask himself. No, the facts of the situation were concrete and stupidly simple and nonsensical.

No matter what he tried Kenny still pursued him. It was as easy as that. Every action, reaction, or nonaction Kyle had put into practice had only been met by an equally strong-willed blue eyed blonde. He was starting to feel like he was in Groundhog Day; no matter what he did nothing ever changed the outcome, it all just kept repeating itself. Today he had even gone so far as to demand, no, practically beg Kenny to stop, but still nothing. Kenny seemed absolutely intent on continuing their little "family tradition". And for the life of him, Kyle really couldn't figure out why.

He had stared in the mirror and tried to figure it out; no help there. He didn't find himself particularly attractive; his Jewfro, his downright skinny appearance, his frame small in both height and width, the freckles that speckled his skin in summer, the Christian Christmas coloring of his hair and eyes, no, he couldn't see it there. Frankly, he found himself particularly unattractive, and had thus determined that if anything his physical appearance should be a deterrent.

His mind and personality didn't seem to be a factor; Kenny was coming onto and groping him, not courting him with serenades and sweet words.

So what was Kenny's motivation? Had his friend been a crueler person Kyle might've suspected that it really was just to make his life a living hell, but that wasn't it. Sure, they ragged on each other and shoved each other around and pulled pranks and shit like that, but it was all in good nature, they were guys. Had it been Cartman, as disgusting and vomit inducing as that thought was, Kyle would've expected malicious intent immediately. But no, Kyle knew that Kenny, although quite possibly evil, was not a bad person. How the contradiction worked in his mind he didn't bother to question.

Of course, it probably didn't help that Kenny couldn't possibly be aware of just how badly this might be affecting Kyle.

Kyle had known he was gay for over four years now. Which, incidentally, had been his first and only experience with another boy. Four years of pent up feelings and hormones pushed far under the rug of his being had already put his sanity on thin ice. This wasn't helping.

Four years of suppressing his thoughts and feelings, indeed a part of what made him a whole person, was tiring; and Kenny was pulling on the strings of a fabric he didn't know were already frayed. Only one person in the entire world knew he was gay and that person was none other than his super best friend ever Stan Marsh. Though how his friend came to be in possession of that knowledge was too embarrassing to relive.

It wasn't that Kyle was particularly ashamed of himself, not for his sexual orientation anyway. It was just that being gay was…well…difficult. It wasn't even like he was afraid for his safety, South Park was accepting of gays…sort of. And really, in the "sort of" laid the problem. South Park was indeed accepting, but mostly in a stupid, ignorant, loving redneck kind of way. Most residents expected gays, and Jews and gingers and Muslims and Mexicans etc. etc., to act like the stereotypes that ended up defining them.

They accepted you, they loved you even, but they wanted you to fit a really gay-ass, no pun intended, mold. It didn't help that the three gay adults he knew here were practically the definition of stereotypical homos. Big Gay Al was just that, so flamboyant and queeny-queer it was impossible to ignore, Mr. Garrison was another typical redneck, self-hating homo, and Mr. Slave…well he didn't really want to go there.

Kyle wasn't any of those things though. He was just himself. He stayed outdoors, loved basketball, played videogames, laughed at fart jokes and videos of people getting hurt, had no interest in fashion or trendsetting, chopped firewood, was an "A" student, hung out with his friends, and sat inside his own skin. He wasn't a queen, bear, twink, butch, drag queen, or any of those other things. He was just a dude who liked dudes. And he was okay with that. As long as he didn't have to deal with stupid questions from his friends and peers. Or endless "jokes" from Cartman. Or his mother.

He gagged at that last one every time he thought about it. Partially he was afraid she would come to hate him or be ashamed of him; partially he was terrified that the day he came out to his mom there would be a rainbow flag flying outside their house and Barbara Streisand and Cher CDs in his bedroom and that he'd be signed up with her for PFLAG meetings for the rest of his life. There was such a thing as too "accepting".

But really the long and short of it was that Kenny didn't know this, couldn't know this. And, friend or not, an attractive male hitting on him twenty-four seven was driving his hormones and will power to their breaking point, as well as his sanity. His hormones were frustrated because they desperately wanted to give into the prospect of real action and away from the handful of half-hearted make out sessions with girls over the years; his sanity was breaking because he knew that despite hormonal temptation the pain, humiliation, and unwanted exposure of his sexual tendencies was far too risky and likely…and then he might just become a self-hating queer. His will power was tearing apart at the seams on both ends and there was no relief in site.

What he really wanted…he…he wasn't quite sure…but he didn't see himself getting it…not from Kenny McCormick.

This "curse" was beyond evil, if only because it had incited Kenny to such persistent actions. It was making Kyle think thoughts he didn't want to think and dream dreams that left him alternately aroused and horrified. A wet dream one night that terrified him to remember and a nightmare the next about having said wet dream somehow viewed by the entire school.

Hmmm…horror after a dream or horror during a dream…choices, choices.

Kyle was feeling just a little frustrated. He was just a little frustrated in a pull out your hair to baldness, grind your teeth to the gum line, scream at the top of your lungs, break every glass in the house, lose every minutia of sanity kind of way; so yeah, just a little frustrated.

He was beginning to wonder if this was how Tweek felt all the time. He was used to being ill-tempered, aggravated, argumentative, and somewhat awkward, but not to the levels he'd been experiencing lately.

Maybe, he thought, he should ask the twitchy, rumpled blonde how he'd survived all these years without being shipped off to a mental facility; maybe that would work.

But then two very unpleasant associations filled his brain. One was that the idea of a messy-haired blonde, any messy-haired blonde apparently, brought his mind back to Kenny and the blue eyes that had tried to penetrate his soul. The other was Craig Tucker, who Kyle remembered was usually in charge of keeping Tweek from freaking out, well more than usual at any rate.

There was just something about the way he comforted him, the way he actually could comfort him when no one else could that was just so…no, stop right there. He was going to vomit if he followed that train of thought any further. Besides, the chances of that happening in a school as small as theirs was beyond unlikely. It wasn't like this was some weird universe that defied the laws of gay statistics.

Ah, yes, the comfort of numbers and cold hard facts. Kyle relaxed a little into the mattress. This was nice, he felt a little calmer now.

Then again, this was South Park. Suddenly Kyle felt cold…and nauseous.

He sighed. His little mental tangent was either the product of insomnia or an attempt to avoid thoughts of his actual problem. It was probably the latter.

This wasn't like him.

Usually he fixated on problems until they were resolved, frequently to the point of annoyance for everyone around him. In the past, however, he'd also been able to discuss such problems with Stan ad nauseum and if the problem was with Stan he'd been able to talk to Kenny or Butters, or anyone other than Cartman really. But this…this was a very different situation. It wasn't like he could go up to anyone and say, "Hey, hypothetically speaking, if you were gay and one of your closest male friends who you've known for most of your life was hitting on you and generally being an asshole, but still causing you to realize that you not only reciprocate the lust, but also possibly have some suppressed romantic feelings for said asshole what would you do?" Oh yeah, that sounded real fucking hypothetical. Yeah, no one would suspect a thing if he just blurted that out, uh-huh, sure.

Why, oh why, did life have to suck so hard?

Oh God, why did I think that?

Panic began to crawl all over his insides.

Don't think like Kenny, don't think like Kenny, don't think like Kenny…

Too late.

Kyle shouldn't have closed his eyes in thought. Despite his urgent inner-protests the mental image was flooding his brain.

Kenny was there.

No.

There was a gleam in his eyes.

No.

Kenny pulled his hood down, smug smirk in place like a well worn suit.

Stop it.

Kenny opened his mouth.

No, just stop it right there.

"Hey Kyle…"

Stop, no, just fucking stop brain!

"I've got something hard you can suck."

"Goddammit!"

He exclaimed the last part a little more loudly than need be. For a moment he waited stiffly, preparing himself for his mother's concerned visage to storm into his room. There was silence. After a minute or two he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and relaxed.

Well, most of his relaxed; unfortunately for him one part of his anatomy had remained obstinately stiff. He groaned.

"Just go away."

Talking to one's dick, however, has rarely produced useful results for any man since the dawn of self-restraint. Kyle's attempt was no exception. He tried to will it away mentally, he tried to think of the most disturbing images he could imagine: his parents having sex, Leanne Cartman fucking every dude in South Park, Cartman naked, Cartman becoming president, Cartman in general…but every time he tried to induce such an image he couldn't force it into being.

The idea of Kenny was too appealing to push away with such disgusting thoughts. His mind may have hated Kenny's actions and wanted to strangle the blonde, but his body seemed to feel differently about the situation. During the day his genuine anger and mental frustration made it easy to control his body, but at night, in the darkness and solitary space of his room his body and its physical frustration won out. Dick, one; Mind, zero.

Kyle rolled onto his stomach. His erection was throbbing against the mattress, but he ignored it. He breathed into the pillow. Maybe if it wouldn't go away he could just suffocate himself.

Yeah, asphyxiation sounded pretty good right now.

The next day found a very irritable Kyle, more so than usual anyway.

When Stan arrived at the bus stop the youngest members of the Broflovski clan were already there; the smaller of the two males was looking up sideways at the other with wide brown eyes, Stan was nearly certain that Ike's constant look of curiosity was more intense today. It was kind of hard to tell through his half-lidded eyes.

He seemed to be walking in on the middle of a sibling "moment". If Stan hadn't known Kyle he might've been worried for Ike's physical safety.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ike's question came out more as needling prying than genuine concern.

"Yes, now shut up Ike," Kyle hissed through clenched teeth.

Stan was only two feet away from his ginger-haired friend now and could see his lips had vanished into what appeared to be a very thin white line encircling his mouth. Really, it was amazing that Kyle had managed to get out any words at all; he appeared to be literally twitching with barely contained anger.

"Hey," Stan shifted the backpack looped over one shoulder. His usual morning half-awake state had been evaporated by the agitated energy his friend was exuding. Sometimes their closeness had its drawbacks; had they both been girls they'd probably have been on the same damn cycle.

He looked his friend up and down and took in his disheveled appearance. His hair was wildly sprouting in all directions, papers were uncharacteristically sticking out of his back haphazardly, one shoe was soaked in mud, "sup?"

Kyle turned to Stan quickly, full of the passionate energy that defined him. When he wheeled on Stan though it was apparent that the energy in Kyle's motions was in spite of his physical state; deep, dark bags swallowed up his vibrant green eyes.

"Today already fucking sucks, that's what's up," Kyle hissed out his answer again, but Stan knew that the venom in Kyle's voice was not directed at him. No, Kyle's rage seemed to be directed more in the general vicinity of the entire universe at the moment. Stan sensed a rant coming on.

"I couldn't sleep until three forty-five a.m. Then when I woke up at five I realized I somehow forgot to do my physics homework, which I only managed to get half-done before my mom was screaming her head off at me to get going, there was no hot water so I had to take a fucking freezing shower, and now I can't find my fucking hat anywhere! And I know exactly where I fucking left it! Oh yeah and then on my way here I stepped in a big-ass puddle of mud and my annoying-as-shit little brother won't stop asking me if…I'm… o…fucking…kay!" The last few words were ground out in said brother's direction, whose expression didn't change.

Stan looked over at Ike. Yeah, he could see how that could get annoying; Ike was staring at Kyle almost unblinkingly, eyes brimming with an intense curiosity that was half mad scientist and half tag-a-long younger sibling. He looked back at Kyle's sleep-deprived face.

"That sucks majorly dude," he replied evenly; he knew it was best just to let Kyle get this out of his system. The sooner Kyle ranted and vented the sooner he turned back into a pleasant super best friend instead of the Raging Jew of South Park, which was a being kinda like Godzilla…or maybe Mothra…or that Cloverfield monster thing.

Whoops, Kyle was looking at him for an answer now; apparently he'd started ranting again and Stan hadn't been paying attention. It wasn't really necessary, the listening, this was mostly just letting Kyle blow off steam. Most of the time Kyle didn't even look for a response from Stan…but that didn't mean he didn't get pissed when Stan couldn't provide one.

"Mmhmm," he nodded and hoped that was the right response. Agreeing generally worked, couldn't hurt, right?

It must've been a half-right response, because Kyle was watching him with mild irritation as if waiting for something more.

"Uh, yeah," while Stan stalled for time he was saved by the sudden appearance of Kenny.

"Hey Kenny."

At the sound of his name Kyle quickly turned away from Stan, but not before he saw a blush color his cheeks.

"Hey Kenny," Kyle's greeting was hesitant, nearly choked out; he was staring ahead as though Kenny were a rabid dog that might attack if eye contact were made.

Had this been any other time Stan would've been suspicious of Kyle's obvious discomfort, but his blonde and redhead friends had been acting so weird anyway lately that this had become nearly normal behavior. If only Stan could figure out just what the hell was going on. He had actually tried picking Wendy's brain on the issue, but the conversation had been rather unproductive.

In fact it had gone a little something like this.

"Kyle and Kenny have been acting weird lately," he announced it rather dramatically.

"Yes Stan," Wendy sighed, "please tell me you didn't just notice this now."

"No," he replied quickly, embarrassed over his girlfriend's assumption. Okay, he may have been a little obtuse about these things some times, but he wasn't a complete idiot. "I just didn't know if you had."

"I think most of the school has noticed by now Stan," Wendy explained exasperatedly, "Even I heard about how Kenny went after Kyle in gym. Plus I do have AP English, AP Chemistry, AP Calculus, AP Modern European History, and Honors French class with Kyle; subtlety is not Kyle's strong suit Stan, we've all heard him muttering under his breath…and for once it wasn't about Cartman."

"Oh…yeah," Stan tried not to appear too dumbfounded, lest he get lectured again on how he ought to pay more attention to the world around him, which seemed to be a continual subject of discussion for Wendy. "It's been going on for, like, a month now," he got out before she could comment, genuinely perplexed.

"Really?" Wendy rustled through some papers on her desk, "What's going on anyway?"

She turned in her chair to finally look at him with rapt interest. Sometimes Stan forgot that for all of Wendy's intelligence and maturity she loved this girly gossip crap.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I was hoping maybe you could help?"

His pleading look was lost on her; she sighed instead and rubbed her temples, much like he pinched the bridge of his nose when aggravated. "Stan, your two best friends have been fighting for a month and you don't know what's going on?" She questioned him with disbelief. "Why don't boys ever talk about anything!"

Because it's pretty fucking gay, that's why.

Stan wisely chose to keep his thoughts to himself, though.

Wendy actually seemed to be thinking the problem over. Stan watched eagerly as she did so, waiting for what he was sure would be the right answer from his studious and brilliant girlfriend.

"Well," she said after a moment, tapping her finger against her chin, "you should ask Kyle if you really want to know."

Really? That was it? Well that wasn't too helpful. He felt pretty disappointed actually.

"I already asked him, like weeks ago. He just said there wasn't anything going on."

Don't you think I already asked him that Wendy? He's my super best friend for Christ's sake.

Once again Stan filtered his thoughts as he processed his words and wisely so.

"Then ask Kenny."

Yeah, cause I haven't done that. Jesus tap-dancing Christ, does she think I'm that bad at this shit?

"I did that too," he tried to bite back his frustration, fighting with Wendy wouldn't help, "Listen, I was thinking, maybe you could talk to Kyle?"

Wendy shook her head immediately. "No Stan. I am not getting in the middle of this. If don't want to talk about it then they don't. Just stay out of it Stan, maybe they'll tell you when they want to; you know Kyle will talk to you when he's ready."

Stan sighed in defeat. Even though he was a little irritated and frustrated that she wouldn't help she did have a point. Kyle talked to him about almost everything and would tell him when he was ready to, he knew that; he also knew that sometimes Kyle exploded over the small stuff and held back on big stuff until it went from pressure cooker to nuclear meltdown. Kyle was a person of extremes, not balances.

"Yeah, okay," he said finally.

"Okay then, problem solved," Wendy smiled satisfactorily as she stood. She made her way over to where Stan sat on her floor, surrounded by textbooks and notebooks. "Now, let's go over your trigonometry homework."

"Uh," before Stan could continue Wendy plucked the notebook lying by his open math book.

"You've been doodling this whole time!" Wendy looked at her silent boyfriend and rubbed her temples again, "You were supposed to be doing this while I did my French homework, remember? So I could check it for you Stan…like you asked me to?"

"Um, whoops?" Stan faltered as he looked up. It was kind of funny though, he thought, Wendy and Kyle were almost interchangeable in a moment like this.

"Stan," she just sighed and sat down next to him. "Okay, in problem one…"

And the rest of the day was kind of a blur; Stan remembered staring at Wendy a lot and her feeble attempts to redirect his concentration, but that was about it. So yeah, that really hadn't helped him much. And now he was standing between two awkward inducing friends, a situation that wasn't being helped by Ike's curious stares between all three of them. Stan prayed that Cartman would show up for the bus today. If there was one thing that kid was the master at it was the inability to be quiet and polite; it was a combination that was the perfect destroyer of awkwardness, even if it was frequently followed by rage.

Lo and behold, something holy or lucky must've been shining on him that day because no sooner had he thought it than none other than Eric Cartman appeared in the horizon. When the largest member of their little party had arrived he burst into laughter and doubled over; he was looking Kyle up and down with somewhat malicious mirth.

"What happened to you butt pirate?" Cartman asked a moment later, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I did!" Kenny interjected; he winked at Kyle.

Kyle's face flushed almost purple. For a second Stan was afraid he'd had a stroke or an aneurism or something.

"You did not Kenny!" Kyle shouted back and then, more pointedly directed at Kenny, "and you never will."

Once again Stan felt himself at a curious loss; Kyle's gritted out words definitely had a specific underlying meaning, if he were blind he'd have been able to see it, but as to what the hell that was…well, he had nothing.

Cartman laughed again, though this time it seemed to be at something that was going over Stan's head and he had a feeling that his intuitive teammate had picked up on at least a piece of the thing between Kyle and Kenny. And that just fucking sucked. Stan might've wanted to know what the fuck was going on, but there was no way in hell he'd go to Cartman for the answer; Cartman would use the knowledge either to a) create amusement for himself or b) use Stan's supposed "debt" for some current or future scheme. It was bad enough that Cartman might know now, Stan involving himself would only further prompt the other boy's dark side.

"Ew," Ike was pulling a face, "You guys are disgusting. I don't want to hear about any of your perverted habits."

"Stay out of this Ike," Kyle barked back, but his words were partially drowned out by the rumble of the approaching bus.

When the bus pulled to a stop in front of them Kyle's fists were still clenched and his teeth were bared in a vicious snarl. Ike, who was used to having his brother push him protectively to the front, actually blinked a moment before hesitantly moving to the bus on his own accord, only frowning when Cartman called out "Move Jewrunt!" as he paused to look back at Kyle, who seemed frozen in place.

"Go on Kenny," Stan's tone warned against Kenny, who had stayed behind as well, spewing whatever was on the tip of his open mouth's tongue.

Kenny seemed to consider for a moment whether or not it was worth it to refuse Stan's order; he looked back between Stan and Kyle who were both glaring, the former at him mildly and the latter viciously in the direction of the dirt below. Finally he closed his mouth with a roll of his eyes and pulled up his hood as he strolled over to the bus.

Stan grasped Kyle's shoulder with a heavy hand and gave him a friendly little kick in the calf. "Come on dude, school time. If you don't wanna have to walk we'd better get on now."

The comment seemed to shake Kyle out of his angry reverie; he stood a little straighter and led the way to the bus. "Didn't think I'd see the day when Stan Marsh was awake enough to actually want to go to school," he threw over his shoulder.

Stan snorted, "Like hell I wanna go to school, but I sure as fuck am not walking there willingly dude. And I seriously doubt you'd let me skip on your watch."

"You have to keep your attendances low Stan, it's only fall and you've already missed some school. This is junior year and you have football too, you can't miss school," Kyle reprimanded as he slid into his normal window seat. Kyle began to run a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it and rearranged the misplaced papers in his bag. Where, of course, he found his ushanka crumpled and hiding, causing him to curse and shove the miscreant hat on his head.

Stan was glad that the new focus had lifted Kyle's spirits, but it being on altering Stan's supposed "bad habits" was a little irritating.

"Goddamn Kyle, you sound like Wendy," Stan rolled his eyes. His comment was overheard by Eric Cartman.

"Hah! See Hippie you're finally admitting your gay love for Kyle! You're practically dating him with a pussy! Oh wait, there's no difference!" He had leaned forward so Stan could see his laughing face past Kenny, who was manically giggling as well.

"Hey Cartman, where's that car of yours huh?" Kyle threw at him with a sneer.

Cartman's laughter stopped abruptly while Kenny's continued. "It's coming Kahl! We're just working on the price!"

"Oh…so how many more "installment plans" does your mom have left fatass?" The redhead made the appropriate air quotation marks with his fingers.

"At least my mom's not a big fat bitch!"

"At least my mom's not the biggest whore in Colorado!"

"Hiya guys!" The bus had gotten to the next stop without any of them realizing it.

"Hey Butters," Stan was the only one who acknowledged his presence.

Butters claimed an empty seat, seemingly unperturbed by the lack of excitement over his arrival. He did, however, turn to regard both Cartman and Kyle.

"Aw, you two aren't fighting again are you? You really shouldn't fight like that; you fellas almost got into a fist fight yesterday…and then you woulda been in real big trouble. I don't think that'd be worth it," Butters finished with a mild, but disapproving, frown.

It didn't stop his glare, but Kyle turned away from Cartman to instead cross his cross and stare holes into the seat in front of him. Having lost the attention of his adversary Cartman rolled his eyes, exclaimed "Shut up Butters," and proceeded to eat some previously hidden snack. Stan had rarely been as grateful for Butters' gay, gay, choice of words.

The bus ride continued in a mildly tense silence, for which Stan was grateful. The bickering and threat of violence aside he could now return to his usual morning mental haze in peace. He rested his head against the back of his seat and shut his eyes; he'd wake up later…around fourth period maybe…yeah, that sounded good.

For Kyle the school day was going as peacefully, if more alertly, as Stan's. He cared about his friends a lot, it would've been impossible not to, but if he had had to spend any of his early morning classes with his obnoxious, inattentive, "C" average friends then for the love of God he would pull out every one of his motherloving hairs.

This time of the day was his zen time, filled with anal retentive, straight "A" students like himself. It was a nice time of day, with schoolwork that was actually challenging and student discussions that ventured beyond "Okay, so who actually did read the fucking book?"

AP English went smoothly. AP Calculus was calming. And by AP Modern European History he was feeling rather at one with the universe.

And then came the shit storm that was Honors French.

French class was the only morning class he had that left him unable to escape most of his usual classmates; much to the vocalized chagrin and protest of both himself and Wendy Testaburger Juniors were allowed under no circumstances to advance to AP level language classes. So he was stuck here. In honors. With his fellow classmates. And Kenny.

And Kenny.

And Kenny fucking McCormick.

It was then that Kyle Broflovski's day got a whole lot less zen.

Next chap should be up in the next week at the latest!