NOTE:I'm surprised I'm not seeing any reviews, people. I KNOW you can do better than that! By the way, there is a pole on my profile page. It asks whether you DO or do NOT want me to make a 'Being Alive' sequel. It will most likely be about how they find a place of their own or something like that. If you DO wanna see a sequal, you can also send in a suggestion on what you want it to be about. If you have ideas, go to the Being Alive story and tell me your idea in a review. Anyhow, thank you for sending the hit list on Being Alive to over 1,200. You all mean so much. Thanks a bunch! :3


Chapter 2: With Food Comes Drama

Kyle awoke the next morning on his desk, to his buzzer. After wiping the 'sleepies' out of his eyes he turned his neck to the digital clock radio with a crack. It buzzed 7:45 am. He quickly pounded the big button on top of the mechanical annoyance and turned to his closet in search for a new change of clothes. After he had put on a fresh T-shirt, he sprayed himself down with Axe and looked at himself in the mirror. To him, this was his peak of 'beauty,' so to speak. In a few years he'll be growing zits on his face, his voice will drop lower, he'll grow into puberty's awkward stage eventually... It was all down hill. He was glad that none of these symptoms of age have conquered his fragile body as of yet. He felt fresh; new. He was on his way out of the door when he noticed the book on his desk. He had almost completely forgot what he had worked on all night. He picked it up and ran through the pages. He looked confused with every wrinkled page flipped.

"Did I do this?" he asked himself. "I couldn't have."

He continued to pass page by page until he reached on in which it consisted of Cartman and his digestion of fecal matter. At that, Kyle closed the book and bared his top teeth and tongue in disgust. He walked out of the door not noticing he hadn't dropped the book yet.

After his shower, he made his way downstairs and decided he hadn't enough time to eat. That was when his mom stopped him.

"Kyle," she said.

"What, mom?" Kyle asked, a little crude.

"I've never seen that book. Did you steal it?"

"What bo-"

Then Kyle saw the book. He was a little surprised that he hadn't left it on the desk where he had found it. He shook his head and threw it behind him. Unknowingly, it landed in his backpack.

"Come on, Bubbi, at least have some toast," Sheila pleaded.

"I'm not hungry, ma!" Kyle barked.

He turned around swooping up his bag and bolted out the door.

He was not in the mood to be pestered be his mom. It was already bad enough that he felt like crap. But why the hell didhe feel like crap. He just couldn't remember. It was as if he had been drinking the whole night and didn't remember a thing the next morning. He scratched his head in confusion with a twisted face. He then just decided to drop the whole subject, pushing away the idea with his hand. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced his back like a thousand knives. His back cringed as let out a yelp of shock and pain. He turned around to view the criminal while rubbing the spot on his spine. Then he saw him. Cartman. That was it, wasn't it? It all came back to him like a lightning bolt. He remembered everything he had done last night and what it was for. His eyes burt into flames as he clenched his fists and bared his teeth like a rabid dog.

"Goddamn Jew!" Cartman barked. "You broke my fricken' nose! Now I have to wear this stupid plastic thing on my face for 2 months! I swear to God, Kyle, I will get you back for this!"

During the bus ride, neither Cartman or Kyle talked to each other or even shot insults. They just sat there. Kyle could feel Cartman's eyes burning into the back of his skull. Kyle just knew it. Stan noticed that Kyle was getting more angry than usual. He leaned in and tugged the ear of his ushanka, but ever so lightly, in case Kyle decided to wack him in the face next.

"Kyle?" he asked after another tug.

"What?" Kyle snapped, but in a low voice. Almost evil.

"Dude, what's up? I know you get angry whenever Cartman pushes your buttons, but this is just weird. I've never seen you this angry."

"Really, Stan?" he asked sarcastically, but withholding his evil tone. "I'm pretty sure I've been angrier than this. In fact, I think I'm taking it quite well." He slowly turned his head to his friend. "Don't you agree?"

Stan simply sat there while being stared at, not knowing what to say. Stan slowly turned his head to look at the fast moving trees, figuring that Kyle wouldn't stop giving him that sinister glare until he occupied his sight elsewhere.


During lunch, Kyle sat outside on the bench, so that his butt wouldn't get wet from the snowy grass. He slowly nibbled on a sandwich his mom had made him: light mayo and honey mustard with thin slices of cheddar cheese and Tofurky. There were only a few kids who were actually outside with him. Not with him, but, you know. There was Damien and Pip playing hide and seek, in which Pip would hide in the hallow space of the dead tree in the corner while Damien sat and created little flares with his eyes on dead leaves. Then there were the goth kids who sat behind the dead tree. They would carve their names and someone they once loved and then slash it out as many times as they could until they got inspiration for another poem based around blackness, the fiery abyss, bleeding shadows and whatnot. At that time, Kyle kind of felt like drawing his name in that tree and writing something, but it would just be weird. Besides, he promised Stan he would never ask him out or anything like that.

Besides the goths, Damien, and Pip, and himself, there was once child sitting on the hill by his lonesome that caught his attention. The boy managed to sit on the ground without getting wet for on the top of that one hill on which he sat, the snow did not touch. Kyle finished off his sandwich and shoved the plastic ZipLoc inside his brown paper bag and rolled it up. He stood up off of the bench and decided to join the boy. When he got closer to the hill, he noticed that the boy was not alone, he was with another, quite smaller. It was Dougie. And Kyle new very well, once he had finally reached the top, that there was only one other kid that would hand with Dougie.

"Oh, uh, hello, Kyle" greeted Butters. He seemed a little dark today

Kyle sometimes hated Butters' carefree smile and the fact that he always had to look on the bright side of things. Thank God he didn't learn that one Monty Python song, or else he would be singing it all day and night. To some degree, Kyle thought that Butters was actually kind of cute, but in a mere kiddy way. Kind of like when a teenage girl thinks her baby sister is cute, it doesn't make her a lesbian who's into incense, or whatever you call it.

"Hello!" Dougie said, a little too loudly. He had a thing for speaking loudly.

"Hi, you guys," Kyle greeted looking at the snow.

"W-we were just here preparing for the day where we strike," Butters said.

"Huh?" Kyle asked cocking an eyebrow.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but..." Butters looked around himself to make sure he wasn't being watched. "You should sit down."

Kyle did so, placing himself beside Dougie. He didn't like how Dougie smelled. It wasn't bad, but it was just the smell of crayons. So he decided to scootch over next to Butters instead, who didn't smell that much better, but he guessed that oatmeal and Gerber baby crackers smelt better than crayons.

"We are menaces to society," Butters finished with an evil look in his eyes. Despite how evil he tried to make himself appear, he always looked like a little baby.

"You're what?" Kyle asked.

"Me and Dougie here, we, uh, w-were deciding what dastardly deed to inflict upon the town."

"Really?" Kyle was slightly skeptical.

"Kyle," Butters began, leaning in, deepening his voice. "If we tell you what we know what how us villains are organized, and how we are constantly trying to destroy the town, you must forever be an assailant to our society of evilness."

"BUTTERS!" Dougie shouted. "You weren't supposed to tell him yet that we were villians trying to destory the town!"

"Oh, Jeez!" Butters cried cupping his mouth with both hands.

"It's okay, Butter," Kyle said. "That's what I came for."

"Well, uh, there is very little time, my partner is evil," Butters said, regaining his dark face. "We must act now? You must come to my evil layer, and we must create your evil persona. Mua-ha-ha-ha!"

"I can't, I have to go to my aunt's after school."

"Oh, then tomorrow then?"

"No, that's no good, my family is going to Swiss Chalet with the Marsh's."

"Then when is it good for you?"

"How about this Friday?"

"Then it is done! This Friday, you shall meet at my secret layer and we shall further lure you into the dark side. Mua-ha-ha-ha!"

"Mua-ha-ha-ha!" Dougie laughed.

"Um... Ha, ha, ha? ..."


That Thursday, at around 6 or 7 pm, and Marsh's and the Broflovski's were currently occupying two booths. Once booth contained the 4 adults, and the other contained the 4 children, Kyle, Stan, Shelly and Grandpa. Ike sat with Sheila in a booster chair. Naturally the parents talked up a storm. They never seem to not find something to talk about. There would be the occasional talk about how their boys would be the cutest in the school, and how they were the smartest, the most talented, the most athletic, and whatnot, then whenever Ike would burp, the men would laugh and the women who 'awww.'

Then at the otherbooth, there was little talk, if not none at all. Kyle and Stan would smile and chuckle every now and then when his Grandpa would talk about the war, after he had already forgotten that he did, and when Shelly got the cheese on her spagetti caught on her braces. But every time Kyle would laugh, his laugh slowly faded away. Stan's would linger for a bit, until he noticed Kyle's face, then it turned into concern.

"... We had to lie in the trenches for hours at a time," Stan's Grandpa ranted. "We had he shot guns in our hands ready to fire at those Goddamned Africans..."

"Grandpa!"

"Don't interrupt me, Billy, I'm trying to..."

"No, Grandpa, the Americans were never at official war this the Africans!"

"You weren't even alive! Now let me continue..."

Stan gave a sigh and looked at Kyle with one of those "it's like that every time" face with a smile, which made Kyle smile too, but, yet again, the smile faded away. Grandpa had to pee again, for the umpteenth time, and Shelly had to escort him in case he called any of the people sons-of-whores again. Once Stan was alone with Kyle, he leaned in.

"Okay, Kyle, seriously, what's up?"

"What?" Kyle asked, trying to sound normal. He failed.

"You've been acting weird all day. It's bothering me... a LOT."

"Well... there's nothing you can do."

He continued to poke at his rigatoni.

"Is it something I did? Did I say something?"

"No honey, it's not you, it's me," Kyle replied sarcastically.

Stan laughed at this reference to a marriage.

"Seriously, baby," Stan said with a laugh to see if Kyle smiled. Not this time. "I can't eat normally knowing you're upset."

"I'm sorry if you feel that way," Kyle replied shrugging, shaking his head.

Stan thought for a moment, then a bell rung. "Is it Cartman?" Kyle's head perked up. "I knew it!"

"So what?!"

"It just shouldn't bug you this much!"

"Kay, if you're gonna pester me about this, I gotta go!"

Kyle stormed out of the doors. "Kyle, come on!" Stan called after him. "Where're you going?!"

"Butters'!"

He was gone

"... Butters'?"