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Author's Notes: This is the first chapter that's gunna show the story from a third person's POV. I'm keeping that person annoymous until the end but you might guess who it is, you might not. Anyway, let's Rock It!
Rock It
?????'s POV
I've never been fond of chilly Spring evenings. You'd think that my new-found upgraded position in society and life would have helped me, but it hasn't. I still feel shivers down my back even from the slightest whistle of the wind. But it's not just because of the weather that I feel this way – it's mostly caused by some other factor. Though, I HAVE felt like this for the past fifteen years, maybe more. I guess leaving home at that unsweet age of sixteen turned out to be quite a cowardly move. Then again, I needed time to think and get away from that huge problem. For months on-end, I made my way across the dirty lands of the country I called home – sleeping in alleyways, front door porches and basically living off my own courage and young knowledge of yester-decade's American society. And just like all homeless individuals, the alcohol, garbage flames and curiosity of what tomorrow might bring, was what fuelled me to live past 20.
I'm walking to the surface, bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. (COLLAPSE)
I'm drinking too much bla bla, bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. (FALL OUT)
And all those years of living it rough all because I couldn't admit to my feelings for those two. Sure, it wasn't as strong as how he felt for him – whom I realized through that dude's way of conveying it, but I loved them as friends. But I realized that they were meant for one another – once more, I would be left as a mere shadow in their lives. And just like when we were all kids back in school, I'd be merely a living background to them – a nobody, a silenced individual, a shy, unsure, confused individual who no one cared about. Well…that's what I believed.
About 4 months after I ran away to never return, news reports started flashing across the region that at first, I had gone missing and then, I was dead. God knows how my family AND those two must have felt when I suddenly just disappeared like that. But I had no alternative – it was either that or a life of watching those two get along whilst I stood merely watching – unable to convey how I really felt because of the kind of person I was and how they made me to become the person I was. Sure, I may have been a silent, non-talking little boy, but even the most of silent of individuals have chaotic things running through their heads at times, y'know.
"So, a lot of business tonight as usual, sir?" The driver pulls me back to the present. As I lift my leaning hand and head off the cold glass door window of the back-seat, I look forward to the driver.
"Ummmm……oh…oh yeh, the usual – the rich, the not-so-rich and a few crazy idiots here and there."
The driver laughs. "Well it seems you're doing quite well for yourself now, huh sir? Three locations in four years – who would have guessed it?"
Well certainly not me – that's for sure.
I'm feeling really bla bla, I want to bla bla bla. (COLLAPSE)
And in the end, it means I bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. (DEFEND)
I guess I got lucky when it came to a job. As I was about to hit the milestone of 21, I read an advertisement in an old wet newspaper on a cold Tuesday evening that they were looking for young people hopeful for a job in cooking. I knew it would be better than anything related to asking people for spare change – trust me, I've seen the horror of THAT. With every cent I'd saved up over the years and with a little help from the local homeless aid association, I decided to go for a job interview at one of the most well-known restaurant chains in……yep……Los Angeles. Surprisingly, I got quite a good feedback review as soon as it finished – though I did have some knowledge of cooking from my early teen days……and I kinda lied also in some areas. However, my first few days started a bit badly for me.
I pulled myself together, bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. (WATCH OUT)
I didn't mean to preach it, but I bla bla bla bla bla. (COLLAPSE)
I got massive amount of bullying and taunting from my fellow trainee colleagues. Scruff, Fucking Wreaker, Fag, Worm – the list is endless. And one day, all that bottled anger that I had built up inside me seemed to just burst……and then, they saw the really angry ME.
Don't you sit too close, or I'll bla bla bla bla bla. (BREAK UP)
Stick it up your nose, bla bla bla bla bla bla. (THE END)
Not only did I scream out in absolute anger at this pathetic but awful bullying, I even punched the odd person or two…and even………I……I……I chopped a guy's finger off with a kitchen knife because I was that pissed off. After getting the biggest yell and torturing complaint from my boss, I was on the verge of losing the only chance I had in piecing my life back together again. In that same moment, I burst into tears – something my boss did not expect whatsoever. And after I explained why I felt that way – which resulted in telling him everything about me since the age of 10, his anger at me turned into him feeling really sorry for me – even upset. He decided to give me one more chance at the job – but he also ensured me that he'd be keeping a close eye on my other annoying work colleagues. Any more bullying and they'd be out, he said in an ensuring tone. 4 training months and 3 fired colleagues later, I was working as a chef in a major LA restaurant – serving up dishes to the rich-and-famous that lived here.
I was earning money, I was earning a living and best yet, my life was back on track. And yet……my thoughts of how those two might see me at that point, still haunted me.
I didn't mean to do it.
It loved me in my head.
I tried to be a charmer, but got a bit hopeless instead.
The world is very sexy,
It's part of my collapse! (It's part of my collapse!)
The years passed and I found myself gaining enough experience and knowledge of my job that I was climbing up the ladder of success. Though, my enjoyment of the job would sometimes stop dramatically whenever I saw them; either him on his own or now, them both together in the restaurant. Whenever they came in for example, to have a meal, I'd always get the feeling that they'd spot me. I knew it wasn't the right time to show myself – after all, they probably believed and maybe STILL DO believe, that I'm dead. So, I hid behind kitchen shelves and equipment whilst still doing my job until they left. They usually spent a lot of time in the restaurant, so I had to play the hiding game for about two hours every time.
Anyway, other than those incidents, I found myself gaining so much knowledge and experience that only four years ago when I was only 22, that I decided to quit my job and instead, start my own business as a restaurant owner – all welcome to come, especially…those two. And boy, I was so happy that I made that decision. Within the first year, my profits were through the roof – celebrities and non-celebrities were dining at my restaurant – obviously entitled………'McCormick's'. How Stan and Kyle didn't guess that the guy who owned the restaurant was their old friend from 10 years back, I have no idea. But they never suspected a thing – to them, I was still a memory in the back of their minds of a friend they used to have who's long gone……in terms of being dead…permanently. Though, I hope that's not the case – I've worried for years of how much they think of me now that they've got each other. It's always been about them though – Stan & Kyle do this, Stan & Kyle do that. I don't have a problem with it – hell, I'm glad they're together, it's just……well……I dunno………I just wish that I could be there……as a……friend for them……a loving friend who they knew would always be there for them.
Besides, they were there for me too. The memory that sticks well in my scruffed-up head is the time I was in hospital, in reason, on my death-bed too. Kyle always came visiting and letting me know that he AND Stan cared about me and were looking forward to the time when I would be out of hospital.
"We were just saying that we were looking forward to going down to Stark's Pond as soon as you're out of hospital." Kyle said to me as he stood by my bed. That certainly made me happy – three friends who cared for one another. Nice. It's a shame Stan rarely showed up. I know it was hard for him, but like Kyle said, it was just as hard if not harder for me to lie there, dieing. But it wasn't just because of my condition, but it also related to the way my condition seemed to be breaking Stan and Kyle up in terms of their emotions towards me dieing. The thought of three friends in emotional turmoil sends a lone tear down my face. Wiping it away with my left hand, I continue to look out at the darkened streets of this busy city. And as soon as I passed away on that very cold day, I knew Stan and Kyle were very upset for the way I just vanished from their lives like that. But actually, like all the other times, I quickly resurrected myself a week later after my body was buried. People believed that it took me quite a while to come back to life that time, when in fact, it was just as easy. I just decided to spend a little time to myself – to reflect and look back on the past few years and what may lie ahead in the upcoming years. Though, it was still fun to watch them from a safe distance without them ever knowing I was back, alive again.
I'm walking to the surface, bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. (COLLAPSE)
I'm drinking too much bla bla, bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. (FALL OUT)
I'm feeling really bla bla, I want to bla bla bla. (COLLAPSE)
And in the end, it means I bla bla bla bla bla bla bla. (DEFEND)
Now, I'm 26 years old, my dirty blond hair is still as scruffy as ever – hence my popular title in the LA culture, 'Le Scruff!', and I'm finally in a promising life of my own with a successful job and business, three restaurants and a nice little home in the quieter region of LA.
"So, will you be wanting me to drop you off at home sir?"
"Yes, I've got lots of paper-work to finish tonight, thanks." But not the paper-work he thinks I mean. After hearing the news that KBSM CEO, Kyle Broflovski is to be getting married to his fellow work-colleague, arts right-hand man…and lover, Stan Marsh, I immediately began work……in creating one of the best hoax wedding invitations this World has ever seen. Good thing the news was stupid enough to show it and even post a picture of it up on websites, though they could have laid off it a bit - Jesus Christ, the media are like buzzing insects to things like that. Now all I needed to do was Photoshop it, copy the font style of the writing, add my name in it, and VOILA – a wedding invite for the very smart and surprisingly present, Kenny McCormick will be made.
Rock It, Rock It, Rock It, Rock It, Rock It, Rock It, Rock It, Rock It!
My driver drops me off at the bottom of my short driveway and waves me off as he drives back down the estate hill. On come the sensor lights of my home and out come my keys. On the front door, a sensor terminal suddenly detects my present. 69 Oxley Way – Estate of Kenny McCormick - Welcmome Home Scruff. Yeh, I had that written in myself - it still makes me chuckle even to this day. AND, 69 – my favorite number, ha ha. In goes the key, on goes the green light on the terminal and there goes the opening of the front door. Oh boy, Stan and Kyle are certainly gunna get a surprise when I walk into the guest's area of that wedding. Which side though – friend of the first groom……or friend of the second groom? Now that's a toughie.