Disclaimer: This "South Park" fanfiction was brought to you by - Cezille07! Credits to the geniuses behind the show, Matt Stone and Trey Parker.
A Moment of Clarity
Cezille07
The day had barely begun, and yet long lines to the new spectacle had gathered at the crack of dawn. At the edge of the forest, a small crater from what appeared to be a meteorite landing carved out a space in which sat a golden dome. Inside it, a dark-skinned man reclined regally. He had a full-blown mustache-and-beard combo that made him look like a character straight out of Aladdin. A bed of sand inside the dome, which sparkled under the sunlight like powdered topaz crystals, gave him an air of magic.
"I am magic, you know. Now tell old Mira'kiel your heart's desires," he said in a baritone voice to the person at the head of the queue.
Awed, everyone gaped enviously at the lucky bloke who woke up first, braved the frigid cold of the pre-morning snow without coffee or breakfast, just to meet the great genie who had descended from fantastical lands.
~o0O0o~
Eric opened his eyes and yawned. He was going to miss out on school today; he didn't plan it, but he wasn't able to meet Mira'kiel yesterday. Fucking lines got the better of him; he hadn't packed food or drinks to keep him company, and before the first hour of his vigilant line-keeping, his phone went dead, out of juice from all the games he had been playing. But today, he'd get his wish. And not a difficult one too. A genie could just create money, right? They had no need of it, and Eric had a great need of such a boon. Thinking of tossing up his million dollars and bathing in the scent of freshly-minted cash — he drooled — the comfort! The lifestyle! He'd get his own house away from South Park, away from Liane's neglect, and all of the boys' taunting and teasing, away from Kyle's breathing down his neck, stupid Jew! If he hated him so much, why couldn't he just leave him alone? Eric grumbled, then decided to shake it off. It'll be all over, once his wish was granted.
~o0O0o~
The town buzzed with rumors of the genie, and in school, the teachers were concerned about the students believing what was obviously a lie.
"Mm'kay, students," Mr. Mackey announced through the intercom, "Settle down. After class later, everyone will assemble in the gym for a short announcement. No exceptions! Everyone must attend! Mm'kay."
"It's about the genie, isn't it!" Butters exclaimed excitedly. "Maybe they've found a way to get group discounts, and we'll all go together as a class!" he added, bouncing in his seat.
"No, dummy," Craig interjected, "I'm sure the teachers disagree that such things exist. But I believe in the genie. I saw him with my own eyes yesterday."
"REALLY?!" Butters nearly fell off his seat.
"Yes," Craig answered coolly. "I wished for a brand new iPhone 20x."
"And did he grant your wish?" Token asked from the back row.
"Of course he did. There was a tiny catch, but he delivers," Craig answered in his famous monotone. To the surprise of his classmates, he brandished the newest, most expensive, most ridiculously-featured phone model to be invented in the 21st century, long, platinum silver, and gleaming.
"Oh really." All eyes turned to Wendy, who looked back with cold eyes at the rest of her class. "Tell us about that catch, Craig."
"In return for a wish, I just had to make someone else happy. Easy," frowned Craig. "And I did give that stranger a Starbucks coupon. I showed Mira'kiel the picture of him holding it, and I got the phone!"
"Why did you give the stranger a coupon for Starbucks?" insisted Wendy through gritted teeth.
"Because I had no idea who to make happy, and Mira'kiel gave me a suggestion! What's your problem with that?"
"A Starbucks coupon is really expensive, you know," Tweek cut in.
"My problem," breathed Wendy, "is that the guy is a FRAUD! Why does there have to be a catch AT ALL, if he's a real genie? And genies aren't real!"
The voices blended in after that. "Your parents didn't give you any Christmas gifts, didn't they? Nor did you have a childhood, you bookwhore!" "Who says your opinions are valid; you're a dumb chick!" "The genie is real, you just don't have the guts to believe in something without proof!" "Atheist!" "Skank!"
Wendy rolled her eyes. She had long stopped listening to the voices, long stopped believing that any hope for the youth of South Park was a plausible thing. She turned to her notes as the teacher, who was completely ignored, began the lecture.
~o0O0o~
By lunchtime, Eric had depleted the first (of three) backpack of food. He was nowhere near the front, and he had already moved three dozen steps forward. He could hear the genie's booming voice from the distance, "Tell old Mira'kiel your heart's desire!"
Some people had given up, but that only decreased the waiting time by minutes. He felt like he'd be here for days! But if the genie was there, so he would be too! For his million dollars! He began cackling out loud, and people inched away from him in fear.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat. A brilliant idea hatched in his head. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen."
The people refused to acknowledge the weirdo who just now was laughing evilly all by himself, but that didn't stop Eric from assuming his sweet-young-child voice and beseeching them:
"I really need my wish, please, if you, my kind-hearted neighbors and friends, don't mind..." Some received this sternly, while others swallowed their pride to look at the boy. Eric was delighted. "I really would like to speak to Mr. Mira'kiel for my mother, you see. If it's just one little boy, you wouldn't mind giving up five more minutes of waiting to let me go ahead please?"
The crowd was half-convinced, but the selfish half "Hmph!"-ed in defiance of his powers. So some more acting was needed, huh?
"She's dying, you see? You all know my mom, sweet Liane, dying of AIDS. She really needs a doctor, but she's spent all her money on drugs, a-and..." he sniffled, "I can't even go to s-skewl! I wanted to be a doctor, to save others before they get to where she is, but if I don't even finish middle skewl, my future is forfeit. You understand, right? You'd all want your child to be happy even if you've messed your life up, right?"
"SHUT UP!" someone from the back yelled. "No one is cutting ahead!"
"YEAH! Child or not!"
Eric fumed. He had to keep his cool, maybe pretend-cry. However, before he could proceed, Mira'kiel's voice silenced all murmurs and naysayers. "Bring the poor child to the front!" the genie commanded.
~o0O0o~
"And then?"
"And then all the boys started calling her names," sighed Stan. "I feel like a jerk, I should've said something."
Kyle shook his head. "Don't blame yourself. She gets called all kinds of nasty, but she's the proudest, strongest woman we know."
"And the sexiest too," mumbled Kenny to himself while fiddling with his phone.
Stan shot him a dirty look, and both Kenny and Kyle laughed.
"I'm pretty sad about missing school now that it's all lively again. It hasn't been this fun since fourth grade," Kyle said.
"Is it the smell of adventure or the lack of Cartman in the picture that's making you happy?" Stan jested.
"Both, really. Hahaha! It's been a long time."
"It's also been a long time since I got laid, but I'm not complaining," remarked Kenny.
"Oh shut up, Kenny!" laughed Kyle.
"Get us some drinks or something!" Stan added jokingly.
The blond winked, raised his hands guiltily, and excused himself from Kyle's room.
"But really," Stan went on. "I guess I'm just guilty that I let another chance slip for me to let her know I care."
"Enough with the drama, Stan. You've really got to let her go. Face it, she's out of your league. She likes you, respects you, but if I'm being brutally honest, you'd make a horrible match."
Stan made breathy laugh through his nose, one that made Kyle feel the weight of his words. He shifted in his bed, adjusted his covers, but he had really overstepped his bestfriend-limits. There were things you can't even tell your best friend outright. Well, Stan just had to man up. Kyle did all he could, sick though he was right now. He had missed school due to a bad cold and really heavy lungs; he wore a face mask, lay pale and helpless all day long, and was stuck eating bland vegetable purees and drinking only water...but all of that was a lighter load than the harsh truth he had released.
"I'm sorry," he finally said.
"Don't worry about it," Stan answered, still downcast, but he did his best to hide his despair.
Kenny came back with a tray of four glasses of juice from the kitchen with an announcement: "We have another visitor! Kyle's not gonna be happy."
Eric walked in after Kenny, looking like a snowstorm: hair all messed up, his clothes having been soaked and dried to a crisp, face all twisted with glee. "So here's where you were," he said, eyeing the Jew. "Hey Stan."
"Sup," Stan said with as much cheer as a grave.
What's up with him? It seems the others read the question in his eyes, and motioned for him not to ask.
"Anyway," Eric continued, "I just met the genie."
"AAAGH, I'm done. See you guys in school," Stan groaned. He slung his bag over his shoulder and stalked out.
"Don't mind him, he's had a rough day," Kenny explained after he had set down the tray on Kyle's bedside table.
"Ask me ask me ask me how it went!" sang Eric.
"No," Kyle replied. "You're so loud."
"Am not! Just ask me!"
"You're FAT," spat Kyle. He turned away and hid under his blanket. "Go away."
"Awww, but Kahl, I came to tell you that I'm going to grant you one happiness, so that I can earn my wish."
"So you did meet Mira'kiel?" Kenny asked. "The lines are impossible there! How'd you get an audience?"
"DUH, by my sweet charisma! Mira'kiel himself asked me to come forward," gloated Eric. "But I didn't know you had to make someone else happy first. He documented my name and wish, and asked me to make someone else happy as payment. I volunteered you, Kahl!"
Kyle coughed from under his blanket.
"You may not believe me but I'm being benevolent here! I'm overlooking our years of animosity and being nice for once! Why are you so mad?!"
"Because I don't believe you for a second."
"Guys, calm down," Kenny said. He was used to being the mediator anyway. "Cartman, if you're really serious, then be my guest. But if you're fucking with us, I'm going to have to ask you to leave on our sickly friend's behalf."
"But I want my million dollars, and Kahl's the easiest to make happy," whined Eric.
"What makes you think that? Kyle must be the deepest of us all," Kenny tried to joke, but he was met with two angry glares. "Jesus, I'm sorry for trying to be cheerful here. But I'm out! You guys settle this. Peace!"
Eric flushed red, as did Kyle, with anger. They watched Kenny run out the room faster than a kid snatching a lollipop.
"Say your peace, then get out of my room," Kyle said. Damn Kenny, abandoning me like that... He had emerged from his blanket to stare down Eric. The latter was still dumbfounded by the remark, but he regained his wits enough to retell his reasons.
And Kyle, with equal resolve, repeated his answer. "I say no. You can't make me happy..."
"Even if I try?"
"To be friendly? NO, I think the universe would collapse first."
"See? I knew that's all it would take to make Kylie-B happy," smiled Eric.
"Nothing's going to change by just saying it!"
Eric clenched his fists. "What do you want me to change, huh?!"
"EVERYTHING!" yelled Kyle. He fell into a coughing fit afterwards, and retreated into his blanket.
Eric was so close to turning heel and quitting as well, but he had a million dollars on the line. He gulped down his pride and approached the bed. He pulled back the blankets and rubbed Kyle's back, hoping to ease the coughing. It must be really bad if Kyle was wheezing that hard. He got him to sit up to offer him the juice that was still standing there, but Kyle, at his best effort, was only able to stop coughing to gasp a little air. Kyle slumped into Eric's chest and continued cry-coughing, and Eric was at the end of his wits. He couldn't let Kyle die! Not if his money was at stake!
"Mrs. Broflovski! Sh-Sheila! Sheila! Please come up here!" he cried desperately, with Kyle clutching to him for dear life.
Up Next: Kyle has a secret...will he carry it to the grave?