Thursday, April 19, 2012

"My Name is Kenny" Chapter 12: An Explanation

South Park fanfiction. 
Rated T for swearing, violence, and some sexual themes.

I sat on the curb outside the mortician's office. Needless to say, the dance had abruptly ended after everything that had happened. Cartman, Henrietta, and Lizzy had all gone home. Stan, Rebecca, and Wendy were inside, crying over Kyle's body, along with the rest of Kyle's family. I…couldn't face them. Even though they didn't know it was my fault Kyle was dead, I still just couldn't do it.

Finally, Stan and the others walked out, to give the Broflovskis some privacy. I peeked up at them, wondering if there was any chance Kyle had lived, but Stan shook his head. Mrs. Testaburger had come to pick them up, but Stan sat down next to me, and told the others to go on without him. He looked like he was taking Kyle's death especially hard. There was a time where I would have been angry that he had never given me the same concern when I died, but right now, I was just as upset about Kyle's death as he was, if not more so.

Finally, we decided that it was time to go home. We walked along the street in silence. After a few minutes, I noticed that he was avoiding my eye. It kind of made sense, since I guess I was probably avoiding his. We both wanted to reassure the other, but neither of us had anything good to say.

Eventually, however, it became clear that there was something on his mind. Then he spoke: "Kenny…is it really true, what you keep telling us? That you can't die?"

I stopped walking and looked at him. Cartman remembered…and now Stan, too?

"I thought you never remembered. I told you many times, and you thought I was crazy," I said.

He looked down at the ground, as if ashamed. "Well, I don't remember you dying, exactly…but I'm thinking back to all those times when you told us you were cursed. You always said we didn't remember: well, I just got to thinking that, maybe you really were telling the truth, and we just never remembered."

So, he remembered me talking about the curse, but not the curse itself?

"How come you didn't say anything until now?" I asked.

"Well, I guess…with Kyle and all…the whole idea of dying was just on my mind." Then he paused, and frowned. "It was like it…just popped into my head, or something."

"It just popped into your head?" That was exactly what Cartman had said. One minute they didn't remember, and the next, they did. They had both somehow become aware of the curse, except Stan only seemed to have a limited awareness of it. What was the connection?

Stan must have seen me thinking hard, because he asked me what was on my mind. I told him, "Well, usually, you didn't even remember me telling you about it. Those memories were erased along with the ones of me dying.

"Hunh…" Stan mumbled. "So, what you're saying is that I didn't even remember that until just now?"

"I don't think so."

Stan thought about that, before wondering aloud, "But why should I remember that now?"

I told him I wasn't sure. I also told him everything Cartman had told me, and also about how Lizzy and Jesus remembered. We sat on the sidewalk and thought some more.

Finally, I shook my head. Suddenly I was feeling guilty for thinking of myself at a time like this. "Maybe this isn't the time to worry about this. I mean, it's been a long night, Kyle's dead, and-"

Stan's eyes lit up. "That's it, Kenny!"


"Kyle just died!" Saying it out loud immediately pained him, but he continued. "Maybe that was what jogged my memory."

I thought about it. There was no way it could be that simple. And yet…

"But, you've seen people die before haven't you? Haven't your grandparents and your aunt passed away? For that matter, Kyle had dead relatives, too."

"Well, they were all old," Stan reasoned. "they were probably going to kick the bucket soon anyway. But Kyle was our age. His death was so sudden, and it happened right in front of us…maybe it was traumatizing enough to make me remember you. And it makes sense that Lizzy and Jesus remember, since they've been resurrected too."

It was starting to make sense. "But that still doesn't explain Cartman," I said. "If Kyle's death was only traumatizing enough to make you partially remember, then how the hell does Cartman completely remember? Could anything traumatize him?"

"Cartman's a psychopath," Stan shrugged. "Maybe he didn't need anything to traumatize him."

Henrietta seemed to remember, I thought. She had specifically mentioned Death. I guess the Goths were, like, connected to death, or something, and that was why they remembered. Death was the key. What was Cartman's connection to death?

A psychopath…

"Stan," I gasped, "Cartman's killed someone. He arranged for the Tenormans to get shot back when we were all in fourth grade. He killed someone, so he has a personal connection with death, just like Lizzy and Jesus do, and just like you now do." And now that I thought about it, me dying at Cartman's theme park had happened only two weeks after the Scott Tenorman incident. It all made sense.

Now it was Stan's turn to play devil's advocate. "Now wait, Kenny. What about the people who fought in war and stuff? Ned and Uncle Jimbo fought in Vietnam. Shouldn't he remember your curse, then?"

"Maybe not," I said. "There's probably a big difference between killing someone in war because you have to, and having two people get shot just because their son pissed you off. Cartman committed…well, murder. That's a lot more personal than war. That's why he remembers."

I felt ecstatic. This was the answer that I had been trying to reach all my life. This was why only certain people could remember my deaths. Cthulhu did this to me, but there were limits to his power. The people who really understand death, they could see through his illusion. Then my heart sank. It was a real tragedy that it had taken Kyle's death to figure this out. I would have gladly traded it all back, as long as my friends got to live.

Stan's expression said the same thing. But then a look of determination crossed his face. "There…has to be a reason we figured this out! There has to be something we can do about this!" This didn't sound like the Stan I knew. This sounded like…the Stan I used to know: back before we grew up, when we were innocent, and we could look at the world through children's eyes.

"Like what?" I asked

"Well," he went on, wracking his brains, "Maybe…there's some way we can bring Kyle back."

Bring Kyle back?

Stan went on. "Maybe we could figure out how Kyle could get powers like you. Then he could come back to life."

"I don't know, dude," I said. "I was born with my powers. I don't know if anyone can get them after they're born. Besides, I wouldn't wish this curse on anyone; it's no picnic."

"We have to try!" Stan pleaded. "If there's even a chance, we have to try!" I agreed, but what could we do? Just go and ask Cthulhu? He lived in another dimension, and the only way we could get there was-

"There is…one thing we can try," I realized. Stan was all ears.

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