By the way, they're about 10 or 11 years of age.

Wait, what am I talking about? Love potion or not, this lesson still isn't important. I mean, yeah it's a love potion, but I'd never even think of using one! Still… no, using one on Stan would be selfish. Besides, if I did… it wouldn't be like he actually loved me, it'd just be the potion. And what if I messed up making it? One ingredient wrong and he'd die! I'd never risk that, not even if he'd like me.

I sat there bored again this class while mindlessly writing down ingredients into my notebook. After, Mrs. McGilroy went off talking about who discovered how to make it correctly, and the origin, famous Voodoo Witch Doctors who spent their lives trying to makes these, and some who made their living off of selling them. The only really interesting thing I found was that they were illegal. I mean, most Voodoo potions are illegal for obvious reasons, but this one had been outlawed since it was first created. I guess people back then understood something about true love.

Who would even want to use one anyway? That is so pathetic, having to use a deadly potion on someone just to feel like someone cares about you. That's the lowest thing I've ever heard of, there is no way I'll ever make one of these, they're just plain pathetic. And I'm not pathetic. Am I?

I could stop paying attention again after I got down the ingredients and the recipe, those are the only things that are important when you're a Voodoo. Mrs. McGilroy just continued on talking about the history for the rest of the hour. She mentioned stuff about fumes and it's taste, but all potions give off fumes while their made, and all potions have a significant flavor. For the red tinted vision potion, it gives off the flavor of mangoes for obvious reasons.

Finally after what had to have been way to long, the final bell rang, and I got to leave. I shoved my notebook mindlessly into my bag while Mrs. McGilroy erased the notes on the board. I got out of my seat and headed for the exit; another useless class, another useless lesson, and another useless potion. Even if I did want to use one on Stan, I wouldn't be able to. I've never even made a Witch Doctor potion out of school, and they were always failures. I'm not going to start with a Voodoo potion that will most likely kill whatever it comes in contact with.

I continued walking out through the empty hallway in silence. What if… the only way Stan would ever like me would be if he drank a love potion. What if 'us' never happens, because I was to afraid to try to make a stupid potion? Goddammit! I wouldn't be thinking this crap if Mrs. McGilroy had just taught me how to make a potion that turns people to stone, or if I had just never been born a fucking Voodoo! I banged my fists against my head as I continued walking; a potion that turned someone to stone would really be more useful to me right now, because I'd either be a statue, or dead anyway!

"Kyle? Dude, what's wrong?" Someone asked, running up to me.

I opened my eyes and put my hands down, Stan had stayed late again today, "Uh, nothing's wrong." I lied. "What are you still doing here?"

He looked at me funny, "Are you sure nothing's wrong? I always go home with you on Fridays." He crossed his arms and we continued walking. "You're telling me you forgot again?"

"I've just been distracted." I said, getting my head back together. Fuck! What the hell was I thinking! A statue or dead, now not only am I a stupid Voodoo, I'm a suicidal! FUCK! "Hey, uh, Stan?" I asked after a while.

"Hm?" He looked over at me.

"I've been thinking; when is the best time for me to start making potions on my own? Voodoo potions I mean." Oh my god, Kyle, don't ask, don't ask… "Because, you know how Voodoo potions go; their illegal, they could kill you… so before I used any, I'd have to test them to make sure they would harm whoever they're meant for. What if… I made a potion one day, and it was a mess-up? What if I test it on myself, and I die?"

He stopped me and I turned to face him; he looked up at me and said, "Dude, Kyle, don't say that. You're not going to die, not anytime soon, I hope. You can start making potions whenever you want, and—dude, don't worry—you've got Sammy. Isn't he the exact solution to the 'potion testing' problem?"

I knew I shouldn't have asked, "Right, you're right, I forgot, I'm sorry."

We continued walking, "God, you really are distracted, aren't you?" He asked. "What exactly are you doing in Voodoo class that you're not sharing? You and Chef's mom smoking weed or something? Is that it? Is that the Voodoo secret!" He said it jokingly, but I still punched him in the arm. "…Can I get some?"

I sighed, "Dude, we don't smoke weed, she just writes down potion ingredients and recipes, and I copy them down. Sometimes she goes on about history and discovery and some shit, but it's really kind of boring."

He pretended to yawn so I punched him again, "Shit, dude, you're going to give me a bruise! So what was the potion today?"

I mentally gulped, should I tell him? It wouldn't be awkward, would it? It's not like he can pin anything on me, just because today had to be love potion day. "We… uh… made sock puppets." I said; that being the first thing I could think of.

He burst out laughing, and I smiled faintly to myself. I liked it when Stan laughed, especially at something I had said. It made me feel like I did something right for once, instead of like the stuff I do in class, where everything always ends by blowing up in my face. Literally.

We were walking up my driveway now, and he calmed down some, "No, seriously, what was the lesson? What can be so important that you learned in school that you would be this worked up over it?"

I snorted, "That's the thing; it's not important. It's so… not important. It has nothing to do with anything, it's just there. There is no meaning to today's lesson, it's so insignificant; that it would be a waste of oxygen just telling you about it."

"You realize that in the time it took you to sum all that up, you could have told me and the conversation would be over now?" He said, and I opened to front door for the both of us. "So what is it?"

I dropped my bag and so did he, once I stood up again I stared at him and he stared back waiting for me to continue. I sighed, "Stan, it's not my fault that we were doing it today, I don't make the lessons, she just happened to be teaching it. It doesn't even matter though, because I'll never use it, no one will ever make one, so can we just…" I noticed he looked a little heartbroken. "…just, not… talk about this anymore?" I asked.

I got his notebooks from his bag and began walking toward my basement door with them a little solemnly. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

I chased after him, quickly just ripping my books from my bag then tried to get him to look at me, "Stan, no, dude, it's not that I don't want to tell you, you're my best friend, I just… don't think it really should matter."

We dropped our stuff on the floor in front of the beanbags and I went to feed Sammy, "No, you're right, it doesn't matter." He said. "So… do you have any homework from Witch Doctor?" He asked.

I walked over to him after letting Sammy out and picked up my books, "If there is, I didn't get it; I was in the nurses office the later half of class."

Stan looked kind of worried at this, "Why? What for? Did you make a potion that blew up? Is that why you were asking me about a good time to make potions earlier?" He just kept throwing out things that could have happened that would have put me in the nurse's, and it looked like he could do it for a continual while. Did he actually care if something happened to me? Normally when this kind of thing came up in a conversation with my friends, they'd blow it off and tell me how much of a pussy I am. "Are you seriously okay?"

"Yeah, I'm totally alright." I said, trying to act like it didn't bother me. "I just had an allergic reaction to some mango skin; you know that's no big deal."

He smiled cautiously, then pushed me playfully, "Sorry, I was just worried you might have been knocked out or gotten brain damage."

"You worry way to much about me." I said as my response.

He picked up his human homework and a pencil and started question 1, I had already finished it in history, "I hardly worry about you, Kyle, I know you know how to take care of yourself. I just don't want my best friend to go all poobrain."

I looked over at him weirdly, "Poobrain?" I scoffed. "What are you, five?"

He didn't even look up from his paper, "No, but you need to lighten up. If we were five, you might be susceptible to fun, but now you just repel it." I knew he was joking, but it still hurt.

"Yeah, well, you'd repel fun too if you spent the gist of every day sitting in a school desk with the words 'I love Jacob Black' carved into it. Did you ever meet Dr. Mophesto? He was a Voodoo, and he wasn't all that fun either, maybe there's some kind of underlying theme with Voodoo's; they're just not fun! So if you can't find a way to turn me out of a Voodoo, or sneak me out of my classes for a while I don't thin—" I was cut off by a loud rap on my door. "Just a second." I said, putting our conversation on hold. "YEAH MOM!"

She opened the door and called down the stairs, "Kyle, Grandma's on the phone, she wants to say hi to you!"

Stan and I looked at each other and made sick faces, "I'll be back." I said, then dropped my notebook and headed for the stairs.

"See ya." Stan called after me, but I was already closing the door, so I didn't say anything back.

I walked into the kitchen, my mom had gone upstairs and no one else was around, and I picked up the phone laying on it's side on the kitchen table, "Hello? Grandma?"

At first there was no reply, but eventually came the sound of someone farting into the other line, then some cynical laughter, "Hahahahahaha! Stupid Jew!" Then the line went dead.

Cartman… normally I would have called him back to give him a piece of my mind, but in the past year, I've found that I really don't care that much anymore. He doesn't disserve my time, and if I called him to complain, then he got what he wanted. Though, maybe yelling back for once wouldn't be so bad, I had forgotten how good it felt to sock him in the face… maybe Stan is right; I am kind of dull.

Speaking of him, we still had homework to do. I put the phone back on the hook, opened my refrigerator and got two cans of Mnt. Dew, and headed back for the basement.

I nearly had the knob for the basement in my hand when the door flew open; Stan had come to check on me, "Hey, you're done." He said, noticing me standing there. "How did it go?"

I pushed past him down the stairs and he closed the door and followed, "It went pretty much well." I lied. "She's doing fine besides the fact that she's Cartman."

He took his soda from me when we had sat back down, "Wait, what?"

I looked around for my notebook, then slammed it shut when I saw it was lying open on the floor to the love potion lesson, "Uh, well, it wasn't my grandmother who called; it was Cartman trying to play a prank on me." He just nodded in the sense that that was Cartman, and there was really nothing we could do about him. "Did you, uh, see that?" I asked, gesturing to my notebook with my head.

He looked over at it on the ground like he didn't know it had been there all along, "Uh, no?"

I got up then and scooped it into my arms, "Good, I'm going to put this away, is that alright? Yeah, that's alright. Good, I'll just do it now." I said, hardly talking to him, then walked quickly for the stairs.

Stan stood up too, and he followed me, "Kyle, wait, tell me what's going on? You're acting really weird. You should just sit down." He said, and caught me when I started up the stairs. He turned me around with one hand, and I dropped my notebook onto the first step, and opened to today's lesson. I reached down to get it back, but Stan was faster. "Here, let me." He picked it up slowly, reading the title and the date, then closed it even slowly and handed it back to me quietly. "I, uh… love potion? That's what you didn't want to talk about?" He asked, looking me straight in the eye.

My grip on my notebook tightened, "Stan, I… I think you should leave." I managed to spit out.

I stepped aside to give him room on the stairs, but he just kept staring at me. It was starting to freak me out, then he smiled uncomfortable, "Dude, Kyle, that's what you've been so worked up about?" He asked casually, how could he just blow it off like nothing? "You were right, it isn't a big deal." I knew then he was lying. "You're my best friend, you can talk to me, even about 'love potions', alright? You know that. It's nothing to get so worked up over. Let's get our homework done." And that was the end of our conversation. He just waltzed right back over to his beanbag and continued working out his math homework while I stood still dazed by his usual coolness.

God why him. Why did I have to fall in love with him? He's too perfect.

He glance back up at me then from his worksheet, then looked away quickly. I guess that meant I should come back and finish my Voodoo homework now. The homework about who created the potion we learned today and other historical stuff. Normally that would be bad, because I tend to space out during that portion of class, but Mrs. McGilroy can't read English, she can only speak it, so as long as it looks like I've done work she gives me credit. What did I tell you? I'm not as smart as everyone thinks I am.

Eventually, Stan and I finished our homework, and I walked him home while I was walking Sammy. This time he pooped on Stan's lawn. I waved good-bye to him from the sidewalk and he waved back from his porch, then as I was walking away I saw him take out his phone while he opened his front door, then disappeared with it inside. He was probably texting Kenny about my Voodoo lesson.

Sammy and I walked back to my house in silence. Seriously, why Stan? Anyone else would have been fine—great! I know it's because he's like God's gift to mankind, but this couldn't have put me in a worse situation. Falling for someone his level in comparison to mine was bad enough, but he's my best friend. Fuck, just for once I wish… I wish I'd never learned to make a love potion, because the idea of using one on him was really itching bad in the back of my skull. I would not though, there is no way in hell I'll ever use one. No way I'd ever force Stan into anything… even if it was just getting him to like me.

When I got back home, I put Sammy back in his cage, then sulked up to my room and into my bed. I must have laid there forever just staring up at my ceiling listening to the silence and wondering if… if right then Stan was awake in his bed thinking about me. I don't even need to use a love potion; I'm pathetic enough already.

Eventually I fell asleep, but I wasn't for long. I didn't even get to my usual Wendy nightmare before I was jolted awake by the sound of a rock crashing through my bedroom window. I sprang up in my bed and approached my window with caution, then pulled back the curtain to peak outside, and found it was Cartman who was standing outside my bedroom window hurling rocks.

I had just about enough of him for one night, I threw up my window and started screaming at him, "Cartman, what the fuck are you doing here! It's two in the morning, and you smashed in my fucking window!"

"Shhhushh!" He yelled back, trying to shut me up. "Fucking Jew, just shut your trap!"

I calmed down enough then to stop screaming at him and rested my arms on my windowsill looking down at him, "Well, you got me up, what do you want, fatass?"

"Aye!" He started, then stopped himself and shook it off. "I… need to talk to you about something… important." He said, well that was vague. "I need… a favor."

I scoffed, "Eric Cartman, asking me a favor? This is great, this is fantastic!" I yelled back down at him with the biggest smile on my face. "You're actually asking 'the Jew' for help? I gotta see what this is about." I said. "Alright, I'll be down in a minute, we can talk out front."

I pulled on some sweats and put on my heavy orange jacket and a pair of socks and shoes, then snuck down the stairs to the front door. When I opened the door he was already on my front step shivering.

He pushed past me inside before I could come out, "Jesus it's fucking cold out there." He said. "You got any snacks?"

I just shut the door and guided him to the basement door. If he wanted to talk inside, we'd better do it where my parents wouldn't hear him swearing his fatass off. We walked down those stairs in silence after closing the door behind him and turning on the basement lights. He made himself comfortable by opening my mini fridge and eating all of Sammy's strawberries, then taking Stan's beanbag chair. I was surprised he didn't pop it.

I walked over to him and took the strawberries back, giving one to Sammy as I passed by to put them in the fridge. After I stood over him with my hands on my hips waiting from him to start explaining what was so damn important he couldn't wait until Monday to ask me; he had to instead wake me up by breaking my window.

He continued to just chew on the strawberries he had stolen, so I started a conversation, "So, Cartman, what do you want? I only get so much sleep, you know."

He looked up at me irked, "Understand Kyle, I'm not asking you because it's come to this that I can only ask you for help—"

"Call it whatever you want." I said, not impressed.

He stood then, and walked around my potions table admiring my beakers, "You're a Voodoo, you know how to do all this potion shit, I want to buy one from you." He said.

He turned back around to me when he didn't hear me say anything in reply, "Are you serious?" Was all I could think to say. "You realize Voodoo potions are illegal. I could be arrested for making one without getting my license." I could get that anytime really, but I'd have to make a successful potion to present first, and I wasn't even close to that. "And you should know if I messed up the ingredients at all the person drinking it will die!"

He grunted in frustration, "Yeah, I know! I just need you to do this!"

I shook my head, "Okay, I knew you were stupid, I just didn't know you were this stupid." I gawked. "Why do you want one anyway? What's your sudden interest? You always made fun of me for being a Voodoo before, now you're asking me to make you a potion? This is beyond reasoning, you're trying to screw me over, aren't you?"

"I just need this one thing, then I'll go! Jesus, Kyle, just help me out this once and I'll leave! Then you can go back to bed! Fucking Christ!" He yelled, loosing his patients.

I crossed my arms, "And why should I help you?" I asked. "What have you ever done for me? Oh, I know, you've shat in my lunchbox, you've impersonated my grandma then farted into the phone, and you've woken me up by breaking my window just to talk me into illegally making you a Voodoo potion. What the hell is wrong with you!"

He looked surprised I would have fought back, "Well anything sounds bad when you say it like that!" He shook that off too. "Listen, Kyle, please, just help me this once; I'll pay you. I just need one love potion, that's all I—"

I cut him off, "Wait, love potion!" I turned back to him. "You want me to make you A LOVE POTION!" He cringed as I began screaming again. "You mean to tell me, you want me to make you a love potion? How do you even know I learned how to make one today!"

I frightened him so much he even backed up into the wall, "Kenny told me!" He said. "He said Stan told him you learned how to make it in Voodoo Class."

Kenny's so going to get it at school Monday. "Who the hell would you even want one for!" I yelled in his face. "Who would you even use one on?"

He looked around nervously after that, "Y-you don't need to know."

I was beyond furious then, "NO! There is no way in hell I'm making you a love potion! That's the lowest thing I've ever heard of, that's lower that dirt! That's lower than you! You think I'm going to risk everything I have making you an illegal potion for money? Like hell I will! Love potion my ass! You can rot in hell for all I care!" I screamed, and he looked mortified. "I am this close to strangling the fat shit out of you! Even with a love potion everyone still hates you! I'm never making you one!"

With that, I walked back to the stairs to go back to bed and leave him there, when I heard something. I turned back around and saw him leaning against my potions table with his back to me, but it was obvious he was crying. This wasn't like those times he faked tears to get him mom to buy him a new Xbox game, this was real.

"I knew it wouldn't work." I heard him whisper to himself. "Just a fat piece of crap."

I watched him a little longer. God I'm going to hate myself later for this, "Shit!" I said to myself, then walked back over to him. "Cartman, it's not because I hate you—because I do—it's not because you're fat or annoying, or egotistical, it's because Voodoo potions are dangerous, got it?" I asked.

He just continued to look down crying and sniffling, "I-I know… I knew W-Wendy would never like me anyway…"

My eyes went wide then in shock, "Wait, did you just say Wendy? As in Wendy Testaburger? Stan's ex-girlfriend? That Wendy Testaburger?" I asked, he just nodded, and I smiled wickedly. "Alright, I'll do it!"

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me unsure, "Wait, what? You'll do it?"

If I can make a successful potion for Cartman to use on Wendy, then Cartman would stop bothering me, Wendy would be in love with Cartman and I wouldn't have to worry about her getting back with Stan, and I get to make some money on the side. It didn't sound that bad at all.

I jumped over to my potions table and began making room for my notebook and sorting out my test tubes. I got my notebook from my backpack upstairs and laid it out to the right page on my table while Cartman watched not knowing what to do.

I looked up at him after a while of seeing what ingredients I needed, "It'll be ready by Monday, I expect one hundred bucks in my locker by the time I get to school, got it?" I asked, he just nodded. "And if you even think about turning me into the school for making one of these or if you get caught with it… I swear I will…" I tried to think of something threatening to Cartman, and I admit I couldn't think of much. "I'll poison Wendy with a Voodoo potion." I warned, and he ran out nodding scared shitless.

I didn't know Cartman had a soft spot. This was going to be fantastic to use against him the next time he calls me a dirty Jew Voodoo. But, what have I gotten myself into? If I mess this up at all, Wendy will be dead, and it will be all my fault.

The life of a Voodoo is pure hell.

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