This story takes place before season 19, but it's based on classic South Park, so it doesn't really follow any timeline, but the personalities are more in line with the earlier seasons, where they're a bit more childlike and innocent, but with references to things that have happened in later seasons. So, Mr Garrison is still their teacher, and there's no PC Principal.
~ X ~
Every time the Broflovski family went out, Sheila received the same comments over and over again, directed towards her eldest son, Kyle.
"What an adorable little boy!"
"Such lovely eyes."
"Can I just say, you have a very handsome son."
"Beautiful boy; just beautiful."
No matter how many times Sheila heard words like that, she swelled with pride. Of course, she thought her son was beautiful, with his vivid red curls, his emerald green eyes and his smooth, pale skin, but she was his mother. Every parent felt the same about their children, but to have other people acknowledge her child meant that she was not alone with her thoughts, she was not biased. Her son really was good looking.
Kyle himself seemed slightly embarrassed of all the attention he received, and tended to only politely smile at the adults who praised him. He still didn't have much self-esteem after that list incident. Even though it had been proven that the list was fake, it had really knocked the boy's confidence.
The Broflovski family were shopping at a local mall just outside of South Park one cold January afternoon and were frequently stopped by strangers who complimented the eight-year-old boy. Sheila beamed proudly and one little old lady even asked if Kyle was a child model and then, when she learned that he was not, suggested that he should be one.
The fact that that little old woman thought her son good looking enough to grace magazine covers made Sheila want to burst. And that was where she first thought of the idea.
"Kyle, how would you feel if I entered you in a beauty pageant?" she asked as they were driving back to South Park.
"A what?" To say that Kyle looked disgusted would be an understatement.
"A beauty pageant, bubbe; a chance for everyone to see how handsome you are."
"No."
Sheila eyed her son in the rear view mirror.
"Kyle, this could be good for you! You'd be able to get up on stage and show off. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Not really."
"Sheila, if he doesn't want to -" Gerald began but was quickly cut off by his domineering wife.
"Oh, Gerald, I have a feeling that he would really enjoy it!"
"I don't think I would. Besides, I don't think they even do pageants for boys, Ma." Kyle was picturing countless little girls in frilly dresses and heavy makeup performing their perfectly choreographed dance routines. It was not something he wanted to be a part of.
"I'm sure they do; I'll look it up when we get home."
True to her word, Sheila was on the computer as soon as the family arrived home and had soon called Kyle into the room, a look of triumph on her face. "There are pageants for boys, and there's one being held in Denver next month."
"Aw, Ma, I really don't -"
"I really think you should, bubbe. Just to at least try it. I think you'll have a lot of fun. Please, just do it this once, and if you don't like it, then you won't have to do any more, okay?"
"... Okay, but just once." Truthfully, Kyle couldn't see a way out of it, and it was just the one pageant. How bad could it be?
"Oh, good! I'll register you right now!" Sheila beamed as she turned her attention back to the computer.
As soon as he had left the room, Kyle rolled his eyes. He didn't want to compete, but he knew he had no choice; once his mother got an idea into her head, she could seldom be talked out of it. So, seeing as how there was nothing he could do, he settled down on the sofa to watch "Terrence and Phillip".
A few hours later, he was called into the garage by his mother and upon entering, he found masking tape in the shapes of 'X's in the shape of a 'T' on the floor.
"What's this?" he asked, stepping further into the room.
"Right, I've registered you. 'Little Miss and Mini Mr Colorado'. You're going to be competing in three different categories; beauty, talent and casual wear and I've entered you in all of the optional categories; most photogenic, best dressed and best personality. I'll sort out all your clothes. You need to practise."
Kyle blanched.
"Practise what?"
"Your walk, your moves, your smile; everything. Don't worry," she added, looking at her son's face. "I'll show you what to do; I've been researching. First, they'll call out your name and then you go to your first 'X'," she demonstrated, walking gracefully and standing perfectly poised on the mark. Kyle bit back a grin as Sheila smiled at the non-existent judges. "When you get to the first X, you need to spot the judges and make eye contact with them. With the girls, it's all very serious, but the boys get to loosen up a bit. Just smile and show your personality.
"The judges will usually be here at the end of the catwalk. Now you walk over to the second X and then turn and go down to the third X, which will be at the end of the runway. There, you turn, to let the judges see your outfit, strike a pose before making your way back to your second X. Then go to the fourth X, do another turn, strike another pose and then walk off stage. Got that?"
"Uhh..." Kyle hadn't understood half of what Sheila had said. She had certainly done her research and he privately thought she was going a little overboard for one pageant.
"Never mind, bubbe. You'll pick it up. Now, get over there; I'll be the emcee and when I introduce you, go to your first X." Sheila sat down in a chair as Kyle faithfully obeyed her orders. "Okay, presenting contestant number one, Kyle Broflovski! No, wait. What are you doing?" she barked before Kyle had even taken two steps on the makeshift stage.
"I'm walking."
"You need to smile as soon as you step on stage! Start again."
Sighing, Kyle obliged. "Remember to spot your judges. Wait, why are you looking at the floor?"
"I'm looking for the X."
"Don't look at the floor; you need to be looking at the judges!"
"How am I supposed to see the X?"
"You can still look at it; just don't look directly at it. Look out of the corner of your eye. Do it again. Spot your judges. Good! Okay, now go over to your second X. Quickly, quickly! Pause for a moment. Now down the runway. Stop right there. Good! Turn around. No, slower! Do it again. Slowly, smoothly, slowly, smoothly"
"How do I turn smoothly?" Kyle was beginning to get frustrated.
"Cross your right foot over your left and turn on the balls of your feet. Nicely! Now strike a pose. Well, don't just stand there. I know; blow the judges a kiss!"
"What?" Kyle pulled a face.
"Blow them a kiss."
"Ma, I'm not blowing the judges a kiss."
"Well, you have to do something – unless you'd rather wink at them?" she suggested and Kyle balked.
"Alright, I'll blow them a kiss," the boy relented and Sheila smiled.
"Okay, now, back up the runway," she ordered, "back to the second X and pause. Pause! Turn around to face your judges. Smile, smile. Okay, now over to your fourth X. That's it. Turn around again. Slower, smoother. Good! Now put your hands on your hips, turn to the left and look back over at the judges and smile.. good. Wave and then walk off the stage. Whew!" Sheila flopped into her chair. "That was good for a first try," she said as Kyle approached her. "There is a time limit; you only have a minute and a half to do that on stage."
"How'd you know all this?"
"I called up the organiser, because I wasn't too sure. So we need to get it right."
"Does it really matter? I mean, it's just a beauty pageant."
"Well, of course it matters, Kyle!" Sheila straightened up. "Don't you want to win? It wasn't cheap to enter you in this, and I want you to do well. I only want what's best for you, bubbe."
"I know you do, Ma."
"Good. Now let's do it again, and this time, smile the whole way through," she reminded him as Kyle walked back over to the 'stage.'
"But it hurts my face after a while," he complained.
"Practise makes perfect, bubbe."
Every day the following week, as soon as Kyle returned from school and had finished his homework, Sheila took him into the garage where she put him through his paces, practising his walks, his poses, his smile, all with music. Kyle had to practise for at least an hour everyday, or until Sheila deemed his performance okay.
She was a woman on a mission; determined for her son to win so it could be proven that he was indeed a very good-looking child, and the only way Kyle would win would be to know what was expected of him and to surpass that. With all his practising, Sheila didn't see how Kyle could not win.
She had already picked out his clothes; for formal wear, Kyle would wear his Sunday suit. For casual wear, he was going to wear black slacks and a white dress shirt (for this, Kyle would roll up his shirt sleeves in an effort to appear more casual and relaxed; Sheila thought it was sweet and she knew the judges would agree), and for his talent, Kyle would demonstrate his basketball skills and would wear his school basketball uniform.
Kyle didn't bother even trying to fight his mother as she made him practise his walks and talent routine over and over again. She did want what was best for him, after all, and it was only for this one pageant.
A few weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, they were in the car, costumes stored carefully in the boot, on their way to Denver; the two-day competition was to be held the following day. Gerald was staying at home to look after Ike.
"Ma?" asked Kyle from the back seat. "Why are we going today if the pageant is tomorrow?" He had barely stepped through the front door as he returned from school before Sheila had bundled him into the car.
"To get in some practise on the stage, and also we'll need to be up early to fix your hair."
"Can't we just leave it the way it is?"
"Definitely not."
Kyle did not press the subject and instead stared out of the window until they arrived at the hotel an hour later where the pageant was being held. Kyle saw a large poster promoting the pageant just outside of the doors.
It was a fairly nice hotel, Kyle thought, looking up at the white brick building as he followed his mother through the foyer as she carried the suitcases. The floors were nicely carpeted, a large table was in the centre with a vase of flowers and some magazines resting on it, surrounded by squashy chairs. A few sofas rested along the walls and the receptionist was seated behind a mahogany desk.
There were dozens of parents laden down with luggage with lots of little girls and a few little boys queueing up to sign in, and Sheila and Kyle got in line. Many of the mothers were laden down with suitcases. Some of the children were running around the lobby, squealing with laughter, a few of them with their hair already in rollers.
When they had finally registered, the two Broflovskis made their way up to their hotel room. It was a decent sized room with bare creamy walls, two single beds decorated in garish floral bedspreads, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small cabinet with a little television on it. A door to their immediate right opened into a bathroom. As Sheila unpacked and hung Kyle's clothes up, Kyle went over to the window and examined the view; the hotel car park and the motorway beyond that.
"Shall we go see where the pageant is being held?" suggested Sheila, having carefully hung up Kyle's clothing in the wardrobe.
"Sure," Kyle agreed and they headed downstairs from their room on the fourth floor. When they reached the foyer, they followed the mothers and their children to a large, airy ballroom, the doors of which were plastered with posters and flyers advertising second hand pageant clothes, spray tan services, seamstresses and the like.
There was a stage erected at one end of the room, upon which one little girl was already practising under the watchful eye of her mother.
There were around sixty folding chairs facing the stage, where other participants were sitting, waiting for their turn.
Kyle and Sheila waited patiently as child after child had their turn on the stage. Kyle only wanted to wait until everyone was gone, or at least until a few boys had gone up there; so far, there had been only girls.
After the girls had successfully completed their routine, they and their parents left the room, to Kyle's relief, although a few stayed to check out the opposing competition.
When everybody else had had their turn, Kyle reluctantly made his way to the stage and ran through his beauty walk while Sheila watched carefully. The runway was a lot longer than he expected it to be. There was a glittering board with the words "Little Miss and Mini Mr Colorado 2018" on it resting on the back wall, made from a curtain where the contestants would enter from the side, with more curtains either side of the stage, blocking the back room from view.
"Remember to take your time," she reminded and Kyle nodded, concentrating on turning smoothly. When he had finished, they went back to their room to get some sleep, even though it was only eight p.m.; Sheila said they that would need to be refreshed for the competition.
Kyle lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, dreading the following day. It wasn't stage fright that was bothering him; it was the fact that he was going to have to have complete strangers judge him on his looks. Kyle had always hated the concept of beauty pageants and now that he was competing in one, he hated them even more.
The boy tried to console himself that by Monday, it would all be over and done with and he would never have to do another one.
~ X ~
Okay, that's the first chapter done. What do you think?
I would just like to mention that I am in no way implying that all pageant parents act like Sheila; this is simply how I would imagine her to be; I think she can be quite manipulative.