Disclaimer: The author of this work does not condone/endorse the messages, themes, and concepts presented by South Park. Considering how said work is melodramatic gay fanfiction written in theatrical script format of all things, I'm sure this seems reasonable to assume. However, it's astonishing how many times I've stumbled upon people in this fandom who are wholehearted believers of almost everything the show says, and, quite frankly, I would rather evaporate from this plane of existence than potentially be presumed as a bigot or, god forbid, a centrist.
Also, apologies for the wonky formating. Translating theatre script format into is a little difficult to maneuver. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!
SETTING:
An upper middle class kitchen in the dark. Blood is everywhere. Two corpses, dressed fairly plainly and modestly while appearing as somewhere in their mid-40s, are spread across the room. The man is bleeding out via gunshot wound while the knife, covered in blood, peanut butter, and jelly, is still sticking out of the woman's throat. Two pb&j's rest next to a children's lunchbox. The crusts on one are only partially cut off. A part of the floor has sticky white stuff splattered here and there. The kitchen window shines a ray of blue/white light into the room that lands right between the window and the woman's body. The audience can see the stove. The soft sound of its humming is optional, but preferred.
BUTTERS is standing opposite of the man's body on the other side of the room, holding an overly large shotgun in hand. A beat passes. He's still frozen as he drops it, only fliching as it hits the ground. A beat passes. He shakily stumbles over to the window, completely out of it as he awkwardly steps over her body before sinking to his knees in front of the window. He folds his hands on the windowsill before a beat passes. He suddenly remembers himself, shutting his eyes, bowing his head, and bringing one of his hands to his throat. He makes a cross with his hands while reciting the beginning of a Hail Mary prayer like someone who's memorized it perfectly but is clearly in shock. He speaks with a heavy southern drawl and accent.
BUTTERS
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Now trembling, he laces his fingers together again.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with Thee. Blessed art Thou amongst women, and blessed is the Fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now…and at the hour of our death. Amen.
A beat passes. He begins, sounding unsure of himself, almost like he's perpetually asking a question.
…Dear lord…Hi…I know we haven't exactly spoken in a while, and- and I do apologize for that!...I'm sure it must be frustrating, waiting on one of your most devoted followers to check in. Lord knows- Oh, whoops! My bad. I know it drives me up the wall when I text my friends about hanging out over the weekend and then ERIC don't even say nothing about it until third period. O-or when KENNY calls me back, but it takes him a sec, and then when ya pick up the phone, his throat's all deep and scratchy and you know he's not really calling to talk. He's just calling to show off, 'cause he knows I can tell he just got some good pussy, I can smell it on his breath through the damn phone line. So then- then he starts going on about how he'd loooove to make plans, and "How was your day, Leo?", and "Hey, Bun bun, I aced that test you tutored me on, ain't ya just so proud of me?" Fucker. All while that poor girl's probably just sitting there, waiting for him to just quit his yammering, so she can finally get some fucking beauty sleep!
(Snapping his fingers and pointing)
Or- Or when you call your parents about the list they left you 'cause it just don't make any sense, but they only pick up while they're pulling into the driveway, and by then it's too late and you're practically grounded already, so you're all like "Well, to hell with it!". And then you get into even more trouble for saying that, even tho-
(Pausing for a second before remembering himself and folding his hands again)
..Oh…Sorry. I don't mean to make any excuses or nothing. I know missing your nightly prayers still ain't acceptable behavior…Well, I mean…
(Gesturing vaguely)
I know none of this is acceptable behavior. What I said, what I did. I- I just…
Butters makes a frustrated sigh borderlining between a growl or groan. He continues, voice gradually getting shakier until Butters is barely holding back the waterworks.
Everyone's coming here for the wake…and my uncles are already real sore, I bet. 'Bout grandma dying…Can't imagine how sore they'll be, seeing what I did to their baby sister!
Butters bursts into tears at the phrase "baby sister", burying his face in his hands and letting out a few sobs.
And how sore I'll be if they figure I should-
He lets out a choked sob before taking in a shuddery breath and exhaling slowly to collect himself, voice grave and wavering.
…I know I ain't in any position to ask for nothing, on account of what I've done…But if you could just send down something nice…like a sign or something, or…
(Pausing, his tone shifting into something soft)
…or an angel…Yeah…yeah, an angel. The loveliest one you got, won't you?…One I could trust.
A beat passes. Kenny climbs through the open window, speaking in a muffled voice.
KENNY
(Sly)
Sure you need one, 'cause I'm looking at-
Butters stumbles back as Kenny lands face first before frantically scrambling to his feet. A beat up parka covers his mouth and hair. The hood has fur lining the edge. He's illuminated by the light as he stares at the dead father before slowly lowering his head to meet Butters's gaze. A beat passes.
BUTTERS
(Overjoyous)
That'll do!
Butters throws his arms around Kenny's legs, burying his face in them. Kenny does not move.
KENNY
(In abject horror)
…Holy shit, dude.
(Looking over to the mother's corpse and pulling down his hood, unmuffling his voice)
…The hell did you get dragged into this time?
BUTTERS
(Cheerily)
Nothing!
KENNY
(Trying to sound casual, but still failing)
Ah, so this is all a morbid hallucination my fried brain cooked up…That checks out.
BUTTERS
(Realizing)
Oh! Well, no, this ain't nothing! This is landing me a one way ticket to hell. I mean I didn't get dragged into it.
KENNY
…Meaning…like, Cartman's not gonna burst out of your dad's dead body and start waving around his lower intestine in a victory dance? This is all you?
BUTTERS
Yup!
(Letting go of Kenny to sit criss-cross applesauce, peering up at him contently as he starts taking care of evidence)
You see, my mom came in while I was packing lunch for the both of us, and she starts hollering about me being a perv and a homewrecker, and I didn't quite get what she meant, so I ask her, right? So she whips out this old condom my uncle musta left from yesterday, and I figure she suspects my old man, so I try to explain myself, but she just kept yelling and crying—And, she's getting real hysterical, Ken! Think she might'a had too much wine at the funeral.
KENNY
(Not looking up from what he's doing)
Oh, I believe it!
BUTTERS
(Giggling)
So-so she keeps waving that…
(Gradually growing more anxious and uncomfortable before delving into pure rage)
…thing around. And I start explaining even harder and she just keeps dangling that thing in my face and some of my-my stuff starts spilling on the floor. And then I start fretting over stepping in it and how pissed off my dad's gonna get if I don't clean up in time, and how he's almost home, and how mom's just…holding the proof- I didn't even have to tell her! She's fucking holding it! Which means she knows, and she's just standing there, yelling at me! And…well, by then, she was just yelling at the lord, I think, but she just-
(Trembling and crying tears of anguish and anger)
I just couldn't-
Kenny whips around at the sound of crying. At some point, Butters has stood up in anger, now facing the audience.
Stop thinking about how I was…
He trails off, roughly whipping under his nose with an open palm and sniffling before hitting the side of his thigh twice in frustration. He balls it into a fist and hits himself a third time, gingerly shaking his head before turning back to face Kenny.
…What'd you call it again?
KENNY
…Assaulted?
BUTTERS
(Aggressively pointing)
Yeah, that! I was- I got assaulted-
Butters stumbles. Before he can collapse onto the floor in violent, furious sobs and gasps, Kenny catches him, holding him up in his arms and keeping a steady grip. Constantly switching from burying his face into Kenny's arm and screaming in his face, Butters tries to pull himself together multiple times while ranting. He doesn't fully succeed once. Slightly frantic and at a bit of a loss for words, Kenny doesn't waver once, though he sounds like he's just on the cusp of doing so. He just keeps eye contact, fervently hanging onto each word.
He fucking touched me and I was a baby and she was holding it in her fucking. Hands-
Butters stomps his foot on the words "fucking" and "hands". He lands on Kenny's foot the second time. Kenny does not let go.
And she still didn't do shit, and it was a big fucking deal! I mean, it was, right?
KENNY
(Anxiously reassuring)
Yeah, yeah, it was, man.
BUTTERS
And I just thought that somebody should be…someone shoulda been doing something about it, yaknow? And they didn't! So I did it- I did something.
KENNY
You did. I can tell.
BUTTERS
I told that fuck- I said "I don't! Care! Somebody has to pay for what happened to me, and if God won't do it, you will!" And then I shoved it in her throat and I laughed in her face, and then dad storms in screaming his freaking damn head off and I didn't trust him, I never did-
KENNY
As you should.
BUTTERS
So I watched him go for that fucking belt, the bastard, and then I got pissy, 'cause he didn't even have to kill his mom, she croaked all on her own, and the last kid she put her fucking hands on was me, Kenny, me! Not him, me!
KENNY
I know, dude. I know.
BUTTERS
And, and I got the shotgun off the wall and I fired two, I fired two warning shots, and I felt bad, so I cried, and my eyes got blurry, so, so I missed, but I don't care! I did it. I did it, goddamnit. I did it all on my own, Ken! I did it all by myself!
Butters finally falls apart, hysterically sobbing into Kenny's shoulder as Kenny pulls him into a bear hug. He rubs circles into Butters's back, scrunches a hand into his hair, and alternates between shushing him, whispering sweet nothings, and roughly planting kisses all over the top of his head. He starts crying, though he's notably much more composed then Butters.
KENNY
You did, you did, man! You did it all by yourself, and now everything's gonna be okay, and I'm gonna take care of everything, and I'm so, so, fucking proud of you, Bunny, holy shit, I'm so fucking proud!
BUTTERS
(Looking up and gasping for breath)
Honest?
KENNY
(Letting out a watery cackle)
Fuck yeah, are you kidding me? Dude, I just slit my mom's throat and booked it.
(Hoisting Butters up and spinning him around)
This shit was performance art, baby!
BUTTERS
(Giggling while slapping Kenny's shoulders and kicking wildly)
Kenny! Kenny, put me down, ya silly! I'm gonna puke!
KENNY
And miss this lovely view?
BUTTERS
(Slightly annoyed, but still in good spirits)
Kenny!
KENNY
(Chuckling as he sets Butters down and bends over)
Sorry! Shit, sorry. C'mon, hard part's over, man. Now I get to teach you about all the cool, sexy stuff I learned from the investigative murder porn channel. You know, the one you're such a scaredy cat about.
Butters, now riding on Kenny's back, piggyback-style, shoves a fist in the air and cheers. Kenny laughs and walks offstage. LIGHTS OUT.