My first SP fic.

Don’t own never will. On with the fic. Enjoy.

000000000000000

“Oh god…KYLE!”

A young red haired boy shot up from his sleep in shock, “Who what where!” He fumbled around as his eyes adjusted to the light. “What the. A dream…Wait where am I…” He grasped the ground aimlessly around him for a moment then he realized something, “What the crap? What’s on my clothes and why can’t I…HOLY SHI….!”

00000000000000000

His feet were crossed in an Indian style sort of fashion; both of his feet were clapped together. He rested his face in his hand as he drummed his fingers impatiently on his knee. He sat there silently on top of a relatively tall arched stone. Every once in a while his eye twitched in irritation or he lost the beat he was drumming with his fingers and would start over.

With a sigh he shifted his weight and grabbed both sides of his green hat before tugging it farther down on his head. The boys name was Kyle Broflovski.

Kyle was currently sitting on top of an arched stone. The stone was a dark hugh, like the color rain clouds are right before they burst. It was brightly polished and had really pretty white flowers and lilies growing at the base of it. This rock belonged to Kyle and Kyle alone. It belonged to no one else. Heck it even had his name on it. Because it was his special spot… Because it was his…

Grave.

“Dammit dammit dammit!” He yelled pulling his hat over his eyes. Every time he said it in his mind it sounded wrong.

Yes Kyle Broflovski was dead. He had been for about three days. The first day had been a rude awakening. He had woken up expecting to be in his own room when he realized he was curled up under a grave. At first he thought he had slept walked to a weird place until he noticed that he had blood stains on the shoulder of his shirt from a wound that was bleeding from the crown of his head. In panic of his injury he had gotten up and tripped, therefore heended up falling through the grave he was under like it had been air. That’s when it dawned on him that he had died.

Kyle had not taken this very well.

(Flashback)

“………”

“!”

(End flashback)

Kyle was hysterical and terrified. In fear and denial he ran around the graveyard until he came upon the one thing he had hoped he wouldn’t find that confirmed his fears. His own grave, which strangely was the only thing he wasn’t able to float through. He slumped up it in panic. Where would he go? What would happen to him now he was dead? When would the reaper ship him off wherever the hell he was going?

The second day he calmed down some and decided there was nothing he could do but see where fate would take him. So he waited…and waited.

Still nothing happened. Nobody came to get him. Nobody seemed to notice he was there. Well… Except one person…

(flashback)

“YAARRR! There is a demon in our presence! I smell it! In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, by the power of his cross, his blood and his resurrection, I bind you Satan, the spirits, powers and forces of darkness, the nether world, and the evil forces of nature!”

Kyle blinked and looked up. An old man wearing raggedy priest robes was pointing a decrepit knarled finger at him accusedly with one hand and holding and an elaborately carved wooden cross in the other closely to his chest so tightly, Kyle thought his fingers would snap off. The old man was balding with only a few long wispy strands of white hair clinging desperately to his skull. His eyes were clouded and cold. The man was blind.

“I take authority over all curses, hexes, demonic activity, and spells directed against me, my relationships, ministry, air space, finances, and the work of my hands; and I break them by the power and authority of the risen Lord Jesus Christ! I bind all demonic interaction, interplay, and communications between spirits sent against me, and send them directly to Jesus Christ for him to deal with as he wills!” He screamed at Kyle while throwing holy water at the boy (which of course went right threw Kyle like everything else).

“I ask forgiveness for, and renounce all negative inner vows that I have made with the enemy, and ask that Jesus Christ release me from these vows and from any bondage they may have held in me. I claim the shed blood of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, over every aspect of my life for my protection. I pray all these things in the precious name of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ! Amen.” With that the old man wobbled off.

Kyle sat there for a moment.

“What the hell was that about?”

(End flashback)

Since he wasn’t going anywhere for a while, he figured, he made some observations of his wake. One of weird things he noticed was the wings. They were a transparent dark grayish blue color and they weren’t actually attached to his body. They just sort of floated close by his shoulder blades. And every time tried to touch them his hand passed through them like a hologram or air. Also he couldn’t fly. He tried to and fell.

The second thing he noticed was he could walk through solid material. This made Kyle ponder why he didn’t like fall through the earth. But no, the ground remained solid in death.

So now it was the third day. And Kyle, in light terms, was pissed off he was still there.

Until….

“MORTAL!” A deep threatening voice boomed behind the deceased Jew.

Kyle crashed from his tombstone at the voice, and scrambled upward. He whirled around. In all his dark glory stood the grim reaper. His ink black coat bellowed like dark flames near the ends and at the hems of his sleeves. In his bony grip he held a scythe with a deadly curved blade three feet long. The dark figure before started to speak causing Kyle to squeak in fear and back up into his tombstone.

“I am which with all doth fear

Death s mighty grip shall take thine

From which thy has come to claim

Thine Young innocents’ soul to beyond

But this is death! Beneath whose touch
Cold, unrelenting power!
Beauty's unwithered garlands fall,
to perish in an hour.

Take up the bier, and bear it hence, —
It were in vain to weep;
but gently, and with noiseless step,
As to the couch of sleep.

The measured journey to the grave,
Is dark to him who fears
To scan the blotted memories
of unpretended…Wait that’s not right. Un suspended… un redundant. That’s not a word. Oh screw. I’m here to pick up your soul for the afterlife.”

Kyle stared for a moment. “You seem small for the grim reaper.” It was true. The dark figure in front of him only stood about only half a foot taller than the nine year old himself.

“Huh? Oh that. I’m filling in for my dad. He broke his back playing rugby. My name's Despair. You can call me D though for short. So tell me your name and will get on with our afterlives.” He said flipping open a notebook.

“Eh ok then. I’m Kyle Broflovski.” The Jew said still in a daze at the scene before him.

With a swift movement of a skeletal hand the great reapers son pulled out a black notebook and started flipping through the pages.

“Let’s see. Broflovski, Broflovski… Broenbow, broemit, Brunswick… Oh! Jordan Brosinmire! He’s due next Thursday. Hmmm. Uh oh.”

“Uh oh? What is this Uh oh?” Kyle screamed.

“Eh…we don’t seam have a place for you.” Despair said tapping a blank spot on the page where Kyle’s information should have been.

Silence.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T HAVE A PLACE FOR ME?”

“Geeze. Calm down. If I had eardrums they’d be ringing.”

“CALM DOWN?” Kyle screeched.

“Wow, just…Wow. I can’t tell you how embarrassing this is. Mistakes like this usually don’t happen.” The cloak figure said rechecking the black notebook to check for errors, “Oh geeze this is awkward. Dad never told me what to do in this kind of situation. Oh he and mom are going to have my head.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Float around aimlessly in a paradox dimension between the living and the dead where no one can see me except that crazy old blind catholic dude who keeps smelling my “demonic presence” while I sit here slowly going insane from no human contact to the point of suicide which is virtually impossible seeing how I’m already dead!” Kyle screamed.

“Well yeah…that or purgatory until we can set things straight. It wouldn’t be pleasant mind you. Purgatory seemed to have gotten the smallest decorating budget. The gray is really easy on the eyes though. Not too bright. Really neutral...”

“Yay,” Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Well I guess I could…No that’d be a bad idea.”

“What?” Kyle said irritably.

“Nothing. Forget I said anything. I’ll come back in a couple of days. I just have to file some complaints to the Fates. Before my dad finds out. Later.” With that the minnie reaper began to walk away.

Kyle took in three deep breaths before calming down. He sat in an Indian styled position before thinking about his predicament. Ideas swarmed his head. Finally he sat up and dusted himself off. Maybe if he played the cards he was dealt well enough... Calm and collected Kyle started to follow Despair.

It took a few moments before D noticed that Kyle was following him, “What are you doing?”

“I’m not dead.” Kyle said blatantly.

“What?”

“I’m not dead. Obviously there was some sort of mistake,” The young Jew said crossing his arms defiantly, “If you don’t have a place for me obviously I wasn’t meant to die.”

“Well obviously you were or your body wouldn’t be six feet under.”

“Impossible,” Kyle replied calmly.

“Well then what do you call that,” The young reaper said pointing to Kyle’s grave.

“A setback.” Kyle replied.

“…”Despair was silent.

“Look. I have an idea. Bring me back to life and don’t tell your dad. It’ll be like this never happened. Since you have no record of my death.”

“If my mom finds out she’ll skin me alive and kill me.” Said Despair after a moment of silence.

“Dude, first off you don’t have any skin. You’re a skeleton. Second, your already dead.”

“Point taken. However there’s a problem.”

“What?”

“I’m a god of death. Your dead.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are.” Despair replied unwavered. Kyle stared at himandstood in his spotdefiantly.

“Oh Jesus Christ! Look dude I’m only 900 years old and this is my first day on the job. Finally it’s my time to prove myself to my parents. So you really have to be so difficult?”

“Yes. Yes I do. It’s your fault for messing up my afterlife.” Kyle growled.

“For the love of… Why do I get the stubborn ones?”

“ You obviously never met my mom…”

“Fine. I’ll make a deal.” Despair looked over his shoulder to make sure know one was looking…not that anyone could see them anyway, “ I can’t technically bring you back to life. It’s not my field of work. I can however temporarily give you a …false life.”

“A what?” Kyle questioned.

“People will be able to see you and all of your senses will work however it may give you some… new features. At least until I can solve the problem with the Fates and figure out what we’re going to do with you.”

“Ok then that could work…wait what new features.”

“Look, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I could always just throw you into an oblivious cosmos of darkness and chaos.”

“Point taken.”

“Alright then…” Despair raised his scythe.

“Wait a minute!” Kyle yelled.

“What!”

“What’s with the wings?”

“What?”

“The wings!” Kyle said waving his hands through the transparent objects floating near his back, “I can’t fly or touch them. What are they for?”

“Oh those are decorational. They don’t really have a purpose.”

“Oh ok.”

Death raised the Scythe again.

“Oh wait! One more thing!” Kyle interupted again.

“For the love of…what the hell now?”

“Do you know a Kenny McCormick?”

Despair pondered this, “Yeah. He comes over and plays cards every other Thursday. He’s pretty good at war and spit but Gabrielle and Raphael seem to beat us every time. Stupid angels and there “omnipotent sight”. I think they cheat. Why?”

“…No reason.”

“Are you ready then?”

“Yes.”

“No more questions?”

“Nope I’m good.”

“Fine then,”

“Oh I just remembered…”

“Oblivious hole is starting to sound like a better option…”

“Never mind….Hey will this hurt because…”

Before the young Jew could open his mouth again Despair brought down his scythe on his soul and everything was set in motion.

0000000000

Well…This is my first southpark fic. Please review!

Flames used to roast marshmellows. Constructive criticism welcome.