South Park Fan Fiction ❯ My Name is Kenny ❯ Another Day... ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Marcus Absent 
Kenny comes home from school, and has to mow the lawn.
Non Anime: South Park Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Supernatural / Drama | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 08.06.2012 | Updated On: 08.12.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 986 | Visits: 601 | Status: Work In Progress
Kenny comes home from school, and has to mow the lawn.
Non Anime: South Park Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Supernatural / Drama | Type: Fanfiction Sequel | Uploaded On: 08.06.2012 | Updated On: 08.12.2012 | Pages: 1 | Words: 986 | Visits: 601 | Status: Work In Progress
When I got back home later that day, I was all ready to drop off my books and go hang out at Eric's house. We were going to go play some Call of Duty on his Xbox; hopefully, Eric wasn't too sore about losing the bet.
After I asked Heidi out, I had asked Eric for his money right then. He had refused on the grounds that I hadn't taken Heidi to the dance yet, and something could happen between then and next Saturday. Selfish prick. He just didn't want to give me his damn money. But he was just grasping at straws; he was cornered, and we all knew it. Finally, he had gotten real pissed, called us all assholes, and stormed off. I didn't bring up the money again, and there was a possibility that he had cooled off since lunch. Maybe.
I walked in the door. Ahh...home sweet smelly home. Immediately, Mom called out "Kenny, is that you?"
Who else would it be? Kevin and Karen, my older brother and younger sister, should have already gotten back. Had she helped herself to Dad's vodka already? "Yeah, it's me," I answered. "I was just about to head over to Cartman's."
"Well, you need to go cut the grass before you go," she said.
"Really?"
"Kenny, listen to your mother!" Dad shouted, which wasn't necessary, since he had just walked into the hallway, and was four feet away from me. He looked a little drunk, too.
Shit. I hate cutting the grass. I hate anything that involves anything sharp, because it always ends the same way. No matter how careful I am, I end up with it in my eye or my head or my chest or my ass, and then I die. Fortunately, we don't cut the grass very often: just when it gets too high to see out the windows.
Deciding I might as well get it over with, I went out to the backyard to find the clippers. We can't afford a real lawn mower, so we used hedge clippers to cut the grass, which made it even less fun. Now, where were those clippers…they were probably somewhere under all that thick tall grass. I got on my hands and knees and searched, knowing that if I just walked around looking for them I would find them by stepping on them. I crawled around for a few minutes, and then noticed a black cape in front of me. I looked up and saw that it belonged to a faceless figure holding a scythe. Double shit.
This charming fellow was Death. He and I are very well acquainted, as you can probably guess. I first met him in person when I was 4 years old. I saw him appear in the living room and I backed up against the wall in terror. My finger brushed up against the crappy electrical outlet. As I died, I could have sworn I heard him laughing.
He didn't show up every time I died, but whenever he appeared in South Park it meant that someone was going to die. And usually that someone was me. I stood up, waiting to see what he would do. Death could kill you simply by tapping you on the shoulder, but he usually didn't. Since he hadn't touched me yet, I assumed he had something a little more creative planned for me.
"So. What's it going to be this time?" I started walking casually around the yard, waiting for whatever disaster to befall me. "Do I fall and impale myself on the hedge clippers? Do I get cut on a rusty nail? Or are you actually here to take someone else?" I leaned up against a tree, crossed my arms, and stared Death right in the face.
Death didn't move. But far above my head, I heard a sharp crack. I quickly jumped forward just as something fell right where I had been standing. "Ha! You missed!" I yelled, showing Death my middle finger.
But I spoke too soon. I turned around to look at whatever had fallen, which I had assumed to be a branch. It wasn't.
It was a yellow jacket nest.
Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! This one was going to suck hairy monkey balls.
I started running, even though I knew it wouldn't do any good. I could hear the yellow jackets buzzing right behind me. Pain erupted all over my body as they started to sting me. I jumped into the street, screaming, almost hoping a car would come along and end it quicker.
Death was probably laughing his ass off.
I actually made it all the way to Eric's house before collapsing. It was just my luck that there were no rampaging drivers around when I actually needed one. It was also my luck to be pretty allergic to yellow jacket venom.
With my last breath, I chuckled a little. Even with being allergic to yellow jackets, I had made it a whole 14 years without being killed by it. Until today.
Then I died. Right outside the Cartmans' living room window. My friends were all inside, playing video games and eating cheesy poofs. Stan glanced out the window and gasped. "Oh my God! They killed Kenny!"
Man, I sure would like to know who this "they" is, because I would like to have a word with them.
Kyle then screamed, "You bastards!"
Indeed they were.
Eric didn't take his eyes off the screen. After a few seconds, the others lost interest and continued playing.
Assholes.
After I asked Heidi out, I had asked Eric for his money right then. He had refused on the grounds that I hadn't taken Heidi to the dance yet, and something could happen between then and next Saturday. Selfish prick. He just didn't want to give me his damn money. But he was just grasping at straws; he was cornered, and we all knew it. Finally, he had gotten real pissed, called us all assholes, and stormed off. I didn't bring up the money again, and there was a possibility that he had cooled off since lunch. Maybe.
I walked in the door. Ahh...home sweet smelly home. Immediately, Mom called out "Kenny, is that you?"
Who else would it be? Kevin and Karen, my older brother and younger sister, should have already gotten back. Had she helped herself to Dad's vodka already? "Yeah, it's me," I answered. "I was just about to head over to Cartman's."
"Well, you need to go cut the grass before you go," she said.
"Really?"
"Kenny, listen to your mother!" Dad shouted, which wasn't necessary, since he had just walked into the hallway, and was four feet away from me. He looked a little drunk, too.
Shit. I hate cutting the grass. I hate anything that involves anything sharp, because it always ends the same way. No matter how careful I am, I end up with it in my eye or my head or my chest or my ass, and then I die. Fortunately, we don't cut the grass very often: just when it gets too high to see out the windows.
Deciding I might as well get it over with, I went out to the backyard to find the clippers. We can't afford a real lawn mower, so we used hedge clippers to cut the grass, which made it even less fun. Now, where were those clippers…they were probably somewhere under all that thick tall grass. I got on my hands and knees and searched, knowing that if I just walked around looking for them I would find them by stepping on them. I crawled around for a few minutes, and then noticed a black cape in front of me. I looked up and saw that it belonged to a faceless figure holding a scythe. Double shit.
This charming fellow was Death. He and I are very well acquainted, as you can probably guess. I first met him in person when I was 4 years old. I saw him appear in the living room and I backed up against the wall in terror. My finger brushed up against the crappy electrical outlet. As I died, I could have sworn I heard him laughing.
He didn't show up every time I died, but whenever he appeared in South Park it meant that someone was going to die. And usually that someone was me. I stood up, waiting to see what he would do. Death could kill you simply by tapping you on the shoulder, but he usually didn't. Since he hadn't touched me yet, I assumed he had something a little more creative planned for me.
"So. What's it going to be this time?" I started walking casually around the yard, waiting for whatever disaster to befall me. "Do I fall and impale myself on the hedge clippers? Do I get cut on a rusty nail? Or are you actually here to take someone else?" I leaned up against a tree, crossed my arms, and stared Death right in the face.
Death didn't move. But far above my head, I heard a sharp crack. I quickly jumped forward just as something fell right where I had been standing. "Ha! You missed!" I yelled, showing Death my middle finger.
But I spoke too soon. I turned around to look at whatever had fallen, which I had assumed to be a branch. It wasn't.
It was a yellow jacket nest.
Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! This one was going to suck hairy monkey balls.
I started running, even though I knew it wouldn't do any good. I could hear the yellow jackets buzzing right behind me. Pain erupted all over my body as they started to sting me. I jumped into the street, screaming, almost hoping a car would come along and end it quicker.
Death was probably laughing his ass off.
I actually made it all the way to Eric's house before collapsing. It was just my luck that there were no rampaging drivers around when I actually needed one. It was also my luck to be pretty allergic to yellow jacket venom.
With my last breath, I chuckled a little. Even with being allergic to yellow jackets, I had made it a whole 14 years without being killed by it. Until today.
Then I died. Right outside the Cartmans' living room window. My friends were all inside, playing video games and eating cheesy poofs. Stan glanced out the window and gasped. "Oh my God! They killed Kenny!"
Man, I sure would like to know who this "they" is, because I would like to have a word with them.
Kyle then screamed, "You bastards!"
Indeed they were.
Eric didn't take his eyes off the screen. After a few seconds, the others lost interest and continued playing.
Assholes.