Disclaimer: South Park is not mine. I write this story just for fun.

Author's Notes: Sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

Stupid, Stupid Jew

I sit with my arms crossed over my chest, with my eyes narrowed and with my lips pursed. I'm angry. Why do I, of all people, have to be here with them? The smell and the dominating white colors are sickening, and I don't know how longer I'll be able to stay here.

And yet, I cannot bring myself to stand up and walk away.

He's not even awake, and yet, we are all here and waiting for him to open his eyes and tell us something, anything. His skin is so white it almost matches the sheets on the bed he's lying on, his eyes are closed and so many tubes are attached to him that he almost looks like a robot in the process of creation. Almost.

I can't take this much longer, really. Not only the smell and colors, but also the fact that Stan is crying his eyes out, and when the sound of his endless weeping is combined with the really annoying beeping of the life monitor, it gets immensely unbearable for my ears. I grunt.

Kenny is leaning against the wall next to the big door, he too has his arms crossed over his chest, but his head is bowed, and I think he's mumbling something. I believe that he's praying, even though we all know nothing could help the sick person lying on the bed. He is going to die, and if not today, then tomorrow, and if not tomorrow then next week, and so on.

I honestly don't know why Kenny believes in God, with his life being shitty and all. Not only that, but even when he died when we were younger, he always found a way back to the world of the living. I think that he believes in God because of that fact only: he made a fool of God by coming back to life, and for a guy, who fails most of the subjects in school, I think he enjoys thinking he's smarter than someone, and the smartest of all by that. At some point or another he had stopped dying, and so he stopped coming back to life. I think that now he's praying for the sake of the dying person lying on the bed. Maybe he thinks that if he prays hard enough, God will let him come back to life, as well.

Stan is… Jesus, it's so annoying to look at him. Stan is crying. He's been crying since even before we got here, and he cannot bring himself to stop. Whenever he lifts his head from the safe cage of behind the palm of his hands to look at the dying person lying on the bed, he chokes on his tears and his eyes go wide, and then he returns to crying harder than before.

I don't cry, from obvious reasons. I wonder, though, why Kenny isn't shedding a tear. I think that it's because he's drowning in shit, and to him, the matter of a friend dying is just something he'll have to pull through before dealing with some more serious issues in his life. Another reason I can think of is God; if Kenny managed to get away with dying, then God took away his tears so he will not be able to cry and let his emotions out. And so Kenny prays; instead of letting his emotions out through salted water, he lets them out through sacred words.

I cannot see his or Stan's eyes, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Eyes are like the air, is what I think: sometimes dry and sometimes moist, sometimes water is falling through them, and the most important thing of all is that you can see everything through them. I do not need to see Stan's eyes to know what he feels - it's Kenny who bothers me. His head is bowed and I cannot see his eyes, and I crave to know what he feels in a situation such as this. Does he feel obligated to be here, or does he want to be here? I think it's the latter. I think I'm the only one here, who doesn't really care.

I've always wanted him to die, that stupid Jew.


Sometime during the middle of our third year in junior high, Kyle Broflovski was becoming thinner, paler and weaker by each day that passed. He deteriorated in his studies and he did not have the strength to do almost anything anymore. By the end of the year, the doctors knew the problem. Kyle had some weird illness I cannot even remember the name of, and it was fatal. There was no way out of it. Yet, Kyle accepted it with peace, and I think that Stan was the one to suffer the most, with Kyle being his best friend and all. Kyle seemed almost… happy about it, at times. He kept on coming to school almost regularly, but when we entered eleventh grade he had stopped coming.

We came to visit him in the hospital occasionally, with me visiting the less of them all. I only came when they made me to, and today is no exception. He was becoming worse by the day, and by the time January rolled around, his systems were beginning to crash. First were various muscles in his body, second his hearing, and as of today the only thing left to crash are the muscles of his heart, his lungs, and his brain. From what I understand, at least. I am no doctor, so I cannot be too sure.

I am quite amazed that the doctors even let us in to see him; usually they allow only close family members to see dying patients. I think it's because the hospital here is not so serious, and sometimes I think that even I am smarter than the doctors here.

So that's why I am here now instead of watching the new episode of Terrence and Philip.

Kenny came to my house earlier today with Stan in his toes. Kenny looked pissed, and Stan looked like he did not even realize he was in my house. Kenny said that Kyle doesn't have much time left, and that we need to go see him. He told me that he "doesn't give a fuck at what I'm feeling and if I don't join them then he'll kick my ass all the way to there". I don't know why he even gives a damn; if he knows how I feel then he should let me be. I argued, of course, and told him that a new episode of Terrence and Philip is about to start, so I refuse to go. He snatched the remote from my hand and turned the television off. He then pointed towards the door and repeated his request, or rather command. "You've been playing and hanging out with him since you were four, Cartman," he said. "You should at least visit him this once and you'll never have to see him again."

"But I came to see him a few times before!" was my reply. "One more time won't do anything; the Jew doesn't even know we're there!"

At this point Stan came out of his trance, and then asked Kenny what the fuck he's thinking by wanting to bring me along. That hurt me somewhat, but instead of retorting I voiced my false agreement. I did not want to go, but I did not want them to think I don't want to go. Kenny told him what he told me, and Stan grunted in reply and turned away. "He doesn't know and you don't care," Kenny said. "That makes you even. Now get your fat ass off the couch before I'll do more than just turning the TV off!"

I grunted. "Fine! I'll come!" I said. I ended up leading the way to the hospital.

The way Kyle looked now was incomparable to the way he looked like when I last saw him a month ago. I was surprised he was able to breathe on his own.

God, how I hated him…

Sure, he was a stupid Jew. I don't like Jews, but that is not the only reason why I hate him. I hate him because he is… him. He's thinner than me, he doesn't look bad, he got good grades before the illness took over, and everyone wants to be around him. He is everything I ever wanted to be. For years I wanted him to die. I figured that if he were no longer there, than I would take it place. It was only after he was admitted to the hospital that I realized that if it's not Kyle, then it's Stan, and if it's not Stan then it's Kenny, and if it's not Kenny, then it's most certainly not me. I still want him to die, though. Maybe if he dies then they'll see that I was right all along, that he was not worth the effort and friendship. Then they would tell me that I was right. And I loved to be right.

His mother was a stupid bitch and he had an ugly Canadian for a brother. He was a geek and sometimes I could not decide who was the bigger pussy: him or Stan.

Stupid, stupid Jew.

Are they going to cry over me when I'll be dying? I wondered. I hoped that me dying would be years in the future, and by then I should be a millionaire with a hot babe hanging off each of my arms. Stan and Kenny would not be my friends anymore, and I doubt they would stay friends themselves. They wouldn't cry over me then, nor the babes I would have.

No one will cry over Eric Cartman, but all of them are crying over Kyle Broflovski, the stupid Jew.

Stan is holding Kyle's motionless hand right now, and his now quieter crying matches almost perfectly with Kenny's almost silent payers. If only that annoying beeping could stop, though…

We've always been on bad terms, me and Kyle. Sometimes it looked like a childish game, and sometimes it was for real. I only hung out with him because I wanted to hang out with Kenny and Stan, and wherever Kenny and Stan were, so was he.

We've been in here for over half an hour now, and I wonder why it's taking him so long to die, and where the heck are his parents?

We are all going to go to college and then get ourselves a job, but Kyle's life ends here. I think that if he weren't born a Jew, then this wouldn't have happened.

Stupid, stupid Jew.

I want to leave, and when I look at Kenny he's glaring at me, as if he knows what I'm planning. So I stay seated on the uncomfortable wooden chair and I keep on looking at Kyle's pale face.

Why are they sad? I wonder. What is there to Kyle Broflovski to be sad about? What was it that Stan found in Kyle that made them, such best friends through the years? I've witnessed many students in our class make new friends and leave their old ones, and I wonder what makes our group different. Maybe it's not our group. Maybe it's just Stan and Kyle. I think it's too bad that Kyle is leaving and Stan would be left alone.

Stan's crying suddenly stopped, and I look at him to see what's wrong. He looks at Kyle with wide eyes, and I notice that the dying person on the bed is stirring. Kyle opens his eyes slowly and blinks a few times. He's not making a sound.

"Kyle?" Stan asks, even though he knows perfectly well he cannot hear his voice.

Kyle's head turns slowly and he's now looking at me. His lips are moving, but no sound is coming out. His eyes narrow as if he's about to cry, and then we are all able to make out four, almost inaudible words he's whispering: "I don't hate you…"

I'm shocked. I feel empty. I suddenly have the urge to cry.

His eyes close again, and seconds later the beeping is becoming faster. Stan started to cry again, and Kenny's prayers become so loud that he's screaming.

My eyes are flooded with tears, and suddenly I feel regret. I never got to know him. I never got to know Kyle Broflovski and now I'm crying over someone I taunted over the years and could care less about.

I don't know why Stan is crying, I don't know why Kenny is sad, and now I'm crying for what are probably the same reasons.

After all these years, mocking and taunts, insults and verbal abuse, Kyle Broflovski does not hate me, Eric Cartman. And suddenly I realize I don't really hate him, either. I was simply jealous, and I replaced those feelings of jealousy with feelings of hate.

He was there when I needed him, and I was always looking for ways to screw him over. And yet, he does not hate me.

Suddenly I realize that I don't want him to die. I want him to live, so I'll be able to get to know him and understand why they're sad, and why I'm crying. After I understand this, he could die for all I care.

Now I cry because I regret. I want to cry because I know.

The beeping suddenly become a long and endless shrilling sound. Stan is sobbing, and seconds later a doctor comes into the room, followed by a nurse, and he rushes us out.

Through his tears Stan glares at me. He's angry that Kyle's last words were for me instead of him. He doesn't understand…

Kyle dedicated his last breathes for me because he wanted me to know, he wanted me to understand. He knew that I didn't hate him, and all there was left to do was making me realize it. He knew that if I knew that he doesn't hate me, then maybe, just maybe, it will make me realize the same.

It worked perfectly, almost to the point where I want to hate him for it.

Jews are good at scheming…

Stupid, Stupid Jew.