Was Lice Capades great or was Lice Capades great? Most Kenny-time since Best Friends Forever (? unless I'm forgetting one), and just when I was whining about him being fazed out, too. Thought for sure the episode was going to be a Horton Hears a Who rip-off at first.

Martyrdom: It's Not For Everyone

03. DICK! (we're going to title these chapters however we damn well please)

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There are two ways to make it in show business: knowing some dick, or sucking a whole lot of dick. After a year of getting no where with the former, Stan Marsh is considering the latter.

The constant barrage of rejection would be easier for him to take if he thought he were an untalented hack, but he, clearly, doesn't. Stan doesn't think of himself as a teenaged runaway girl, coming to Hollywood with the expectation of becoming a dancer/singer/actress, despite the two left feet/flat voice/disfigured face. He always thought growing up in South Park gave him a special appreciation for the bizarre, a certain dark sense of humor that would appeal to the average TV watcher. If he could just get someone to listen to a pitch, he knows it could be a successful show.

Unfortunately, as it stands, he is the only person that knows how brilliant he is. It's the hurtle every self-important genius must face. One of Stan's two roommates faces the same: he is writing the next great American novel, which no one will ever read, because in two weeks he will be shot down in crossfire.

That's life. Too bad, because it would have been groundbreaking.

Stan's other roommate is none other than Wendy Testaburger. After a turbulent on-again/off-again relationship, Wendy spontaneously ran away with Stan when he went to L.A. Stan was surprised and very pleased, but did not consider it suspicious in the least. You should.

To pay for his share of the rent, Stan has to work two jobs as a waiter at two different "Italian food" restaurants. Incidentally, they are right next door to each other, and bitter rivals. The plus side of this is that Stan is never late for work. The downside, sometimes he'll forget and wear the wrong uniform.

Stan is having one of those days, and as he returns to his apartment, exhausted, all he wants to do is eat some of the Chinese food Loren Swanson—and if only he's taken the bus instead of his car, the whole world would have known that name!—orders for "inspiration", curl up on the coach with Wendy, and watch some Conan. The last thing he wants to deal with is an old high school friend, a hypersensitive archangel, and (yet another) Church conspiracy.

But as Stan is sitting on his couch, unlacing his shoes, he hears heavy footsteps out in the hall, and a familiar voice—somewhat muffled by the closed door—saying, "... people in this city are a lot uglier than I thought they'd be. Where are all the young actress-hopefuls? Oh, shit, Uriel, watch out-" a loud clattering follows, which sounds like (and is) a portrait being knocked off the wall.

Don't knock, don't knock... Stan silently prays. They knock. He sighs, stands, and opens the door for Kenny and Uriel.

Stan's first impression(s): Angel. New one, but no weirder than anything else he's ever seen. Kenny. Thinner, dirtier, hair longer, bloodier... blood? Double take. Yes, in addition to the usually wear and tear, Kenny's clothes have the unmistakable brown strains on them. Stan's concern for his fellow man is instantly activated, and closing the door and watching Conan is no longer an option.

Kenny's first impression(s): Stan. Goatee doesn't suit him. Shirt has been half-untucked from his belt. Is holding a left shoe for some indiscernible reason. Conclusion, living with Wendy has turned him into a hairy madman who can't dress himself. Nice apartment, though.

Stan steps back and opens the door wider, and Kenny enters. He has to maneuver a little to get Uriel through the threshold (wings, you know), whose weight he is supporting, and whom he drops ungracefully on the couch the moment he can.

"Sorry," Kenny says to Stan, "he's a little jet lagged."

Stan stares at the angel that has been dumped on the couch he'd hoped to spoon with Wendy on. "Of course."

Silence.

"So you're probably wondering what the fuck I'm doing here," Kenny says, coughing into a closed fist.

"Well, not in so many words."

Kenny grins a little."Uriel here—well, it was his idea, so he'd probably explain it better—but the gist of it is that Uriel thinks I'm in mortal danger."

"Are you?" Stan asks.

"When aren't I? C'mon, Stan. I just get shot by this assassin, and the the next thing you know Uriel is sprouting off about me being a prophet and this Ben guy being out to get me..."

"What?"

"I know, it's ridicu-"

"Some guy's got an assassin after you?"

Kenny looks at Stan's face, and Kenny sees exactly what he'd hoped not to—the welling of Stan's instinctive "I'm worried about you/let me help you" response to other people's problems. They are all symptoms of Stan's nice guy syndrome, and it never fails to make Kenny feel guilty because he isn't such a nice guy, and really doesn't deserve the treatment.

"Look, Stan, it's not your problem. Hell, it's not really a problem at all. I'm sorry about barging in on you, really, Uriel's just a bitch to deal with when he starts bawling and it's easier to appease him, but I shouldn't have made the trip out here. Great seeing you, though, nice chin fuzz. I'll just collect by angel and be going..."

Kenny tries to heave Uriel up, but the angel is dead weight.

"Woah, Kenny, stay. This sounds serious."

"No, it really isn't-"

The door on Wendy/Stan's bedroom opens and Wendy comes out, bleary-eyed. "Could you guys turn down the TV, I—KENNY?"

"I was just leaving," Kenny says, tugging fruitlessly on Uriel's arm.

"No, you aren't." Stan frowns, suddenly, realizing Wendy might have a problem with this. He looks over at her. "Uh..."

Kenny looks over, too. Like any good feminist, Wendy is obligated to hate Kenny for not only knocking up a girl, but then dumping the girl for the same reason. Kenny fully expects her to kick his ass right out the second story window.

Instead, she gestures toward the couch. "No, no, Kenny, at least stay until the morning. It's late and it doesn't look like you're going to be able to get your... uh..."

"Uriel."

"Right, your Uriel off of the couch, anyway." She disappears quickly back into her bedroom, leaving both Stan and Kenny in a state of shock. Shock, but still no suspicion. We stress that you should be.

So Kenny stays the night, and tries to ward off Stan's offers of food, clothes, makeshift bed, and all other modern comforts. Eventually Stan goes to bed (Wendy immediately hangs up her cell phone when he comes in and smiles at him when he does), and Kenny is left sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, being kicked in the head every so often by Uriel. He fishes his bottle of morphine pills out of his bottle and pops a couple, then turns the TV on low and watches cartoons.

If only Kenny turned to a news channel, he would see an exposé on Ben Proutly, the "modern saint who donates to worthy causes" posing next to a little girl with some horrible disease, and see the face of the man who has it out for him. ...But he doesn't, and so remains ignorant of the true gravity the situation he is in, and has now brought Stan into.

But he does get an inkling of it the next morning when, while leaving the apartment complex with Stan and Uriel (Uriel babbling to Stan about prophets and God and finally proving those bastards Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael wrong), a nondescript van with black windows skids to a halt in front of them, the doors are thrown open, and Wendy aims a M9 double action Beretta at Kenny's head.

"Alright, boys," she says calmly. "Get in the van."

"Wendy? What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Sorry, Stan... really. You're a nice guy, and I hoped Kenny would have the decency to leave you out of this. Guess not," she adds, glaring. Kenny stares back, and Stan is in a state of the utmost bewilderment. "Now get in," Wendy repeats with a jerk of the gun, and Kenny, Stan, and Uriel climb in numbly, joining her in the back.

"Wendy, what-"

"We're taking a little trip to Vatican City, that's all. Mr. Proutly is waiting to see you, Kenny."

"Ooooh no," Uriel says, gnawing on his thumb nail anxiously. "Ooooh, this is not good."

Stan gives Wendy an anguished look. "How could you?"

Wendy, who is not heartless, avoids eye contact and instead glares at Kenny's left knee. "... Mr. Proutly asked me to keep you under surveillance a year ago, because he suspected you'd be the first one Kenny would run to."

Stan feels ill. "This whole time..."

The van abruptly swerves, and the front left side smashes into a fire hydrant. A jet of water immediately gushes skyward, raining down on the battered windshield and crumpled headlight. In the confusion Wendy accidently fires her gun; the bullet catches Kenny in the side of the mouth and travels at an upward slant to his brain, killing him. He slumps sideways and onto the floor while Wendy, who's shrieking, clambers out of the back of the van, runs around to the side, and throws the drivers-side door open.

"Clyde! Are you okay?!"

"CLYDE?"

Uriel and Stan (the one who shouted in amazement), who've trampled after Wendy, stare as Clyde Jones brushes himself off. You may be protesting that Clyde's surname is Harris or, if you want to go with one of the outdated names, Donovan or Goodman. To this we can only reply: it is our story and we are going to call him whatever the hell we want. Jones happens to be a very hot last name. Jason's the funniest correspondent on the Daily Show now, and James Earl's voice was the best part of Revenge of the Sith... not that there was any competition.

The point is that, if we wanted, we could give Clyde a different last name every chapter. In fact... yes, we think we will.

"Uh, hey Stan."

"... I feel lightheaded," Stan says, placing a hand against his forehead.

"Don't you faint," Wendy commands. "Clyde, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine... I spilled my coffee, though," he adds with a tragic sigh.

"Well, great. This is just great. Now we have to walk to Rome. Thanks a lot, Clyde."

"You can't walk to Rome."

"Stan, be quite and go get Kenny."

"Kenny's dead. You shot him."

"Not on purpose! Like you haven't accidentally killed him a hundred times yourself. Now go get him, you're going to have to carry his corpse to the Vatican..."

"Forget it!" Stan throws up his hands and glares at her. "You left your gun in back seat and we, Uriel and me, we could take you guys. You're not taking Kenny anywhere."

"Oh, Uriel?" Wendy says, pointing over Stan's right shoulder. "You mean that Uriel?"

Stan turns his head in time to see the archangel sprinting away from the three of them, abandoning Stan to his fate. He looks back and see that, while he was talking to Wendy, Clyde went and retrieved the gun.

"... fuck," Stan mumbles.