South Park fanfiction.
"You fat bastard! You fucking racist self-centered son of a bitch!"
It had actually been pretty easy to talk my way out of expulsion from Mr. Mackey and Officer Barbrady. In fact, I had gotten off with practically no punishment, although I would have to be careful, because it wouldn't be so easy the second time I got caught.
But right now, I was busy catching something myself. The fatass.
Eric had just stepped onto the sidewalk when he heard me. Now he was no longer on school property. I ran up to him, and shoved him up against the lamp post.
"Oh, hey, Kenny…" he managed to get out. "What are you doing here?"
"Surprised to see me, eh? I'm here to tell you that your little plan didn't work. You of all people should know what a pushover Mackey is."
"What the hell is this?" Stan asked, passing by. Kyle was with him, but didn't say anything. Probably because I was beating Eric up, and that was fine with him. However, a crowd was starting to gather, and I didn't want that.
"Oh, he was just trying to screw me over, like he always does," I said. I had to get him away.
"Really?" said Craig. "Can I beat him up, too?" Ooh…that was tempting, but…
"No, I'll deal with him," I snarled. "You guys fuck off!" When nobody moved, I started dragging Eric away.
We got to Stark's Pond, and I finally released him. He grabbed his throat and breathed hard. "What the hell, Kenny! It's not like I haven't done shit to you before!"
I folded my arms. "I can almost forgive that stunt; you may not be able to help that you're a psychopath."
"Then what's up your ass?"
"What's up my ass is the fact that you know I can't die! You've known about my curse, and you've let me spend my whole childhood thinking no one knew! What kind of monster fucks over his best friend like that?"
"You're not my best friend! I've always hated you, Kenny."
"Well," I spat, "At least we agree on something."
A moment passed, then Eric remembered that he was supposed to be surprised about the curse. "Wh-what do you mean, you can't die, Kenny?"
"Don't try to deny it. You know about my gun, and I've only ever used the gun to commit suicide when I'm in a lot of pain. You know that I die all the time. None of the other guys remember, but you do, and you never told me. WHY?"
Eric shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Damn it, Eric, if you lie to me…"
"You'll do what, bitch?" Eric dared. He thought he was so tough.
I pulled the gun out of my pocket (Mackey and Barbrady hadn't even taken it away from me). "I'll kill you, that's what." On sudden inspiration, I added, "And then I'll find a way to bring you back so I can kill you again."
Eric was scared, now. "You…you've lost your mind, Kenny!" he screamed.
"Maybe," I admitted, "But I'm still more sane than you are."
Eric stood, frozen. I aimed the gun at him.
"Alright! Alright! Jesus Christ, I'll talk, just don't point that at me!" he finally caved.
I lowered the weapon but still gripped it tightly. As I look back on that moment, I'm not sure whether or not I would have actually made good on my threat to shoot him. All I remember was that I was definitely mad enough to do it. "Now," I asked slowly, "Why didn't you tell me?"
Eric sighed. "Well," he said, "I was pissed off."
"That time you died while you were on my roller coaster, your poor-ass family sued me, and took all my goddamn money!"
Oh, Eric's theme park…I remember that one. A pole right to the face. Just like Final Destination 3.
"When the IRS told me your family was suing for your death, I told them that you died all the time. Of course, they didn't believe me, so I lost the case. Damn it, your family sucks, Kenny."
"Shut up about my family, fatass," I said. "How come you told them that?"
"It just popped into my head. But, come to think of it," he said, scratching his head, "I hadn't thought about it before that moment. I said it, and then I was like 'why did I say that?' and right then, I remembered all the times you had died. Every one of them. Especially the time you got impaled on the school flagpole. Hehe, that was a good one, Ken."
You can imagine that I wasn't laughing.
"Anyway, if your parents had just left well enough alone, maybe I might have let you know I knew. But I figured you still owed me; I had to go without chocolate pot pie for two months because my mom had to pay off that debt. Why did your parents have to sue? You would just come back again like always."
Wow, two whole months without chocolate pot pie...that made me feel so sympathetic.
But what Eric had said had gotten me thinking.
"So, just to get this straight...you didn't tell me because you were mad at my parents for suing you?"
"And you also didn't remember the curse before that?" I asked.
"No. What's the big deal, Ken?"
A huge development. If something had somehow caused Eric to become aware of my curse, then there was a chance I could get Stan and Kyle and everyone else to remember, too.
I put my gun back in my pocket, and started walking away.
"Thanks," I said.
"What! That's it?" yelled Eric. "You can't just threaten me like that, and then go your merry way! GODDAMNIT! Look at me while I'm talking to you, Kenny!"
I turned on him, my anger out in full force again. "Let me make one thing clear, Cartman (this startled him; even though almost everyone else called him Cartman, I was one of the few who had usually called him by his actual first name). The main reason I didn't kill you is because the list of people who remember is already too small. What you did…
(I paused, thinking of when Cartman had killed the Tenormans, when he had given Kyle AIDS, and when he had tried to commit genocide against who knows how many groups)
"…was worse than anything you have ever done. My life has been a living hell for 14 years, all because I thought I was alone, and that nobody remembered me, like I wasn't even there at all. And then I find out that you've known about it, and didn't do anything to help, not even tried to show me a little compassion when I was alive. Even Stan and Kyle showed a little bit of concern for my deaths from time to time, but not you. You've even laughed at my corpse. The others may not be able to help that they can't remember, and I can forgive that. But I don't think I can forgive you. And to think you have the guts to say I'm your best friend? Well, you're certainly not my friend."
Cartman looked at me. Usually, words just bounced off his thick skin, but what I said seemed to have sunk in. Something passed between us. Then I walked off, fists clenched, and this time, he didn't try to stop me.
I had finally made up my mind about Eric Cartman.