(Edit)

I'm not too bright. Maybe because I'm blonde. A complete understatement. For me, anyways. I'm clumsy. Not really that good looking either. To me, anyways. Most of all, bad luck seems to follow me everywhere. Definition of 'accident prone.' Some times it feels like the big guy in the sky has it out for me. But seeing as I'm still alive, he must not want me that much. Maybe he just likes to watch me suffer. So far, I had to go to the hospital three times this month. All together I have seventeen scars, and that's only on my right arm. A million minor cuts, and so many bruises I don't even want to get into it. Life hates me, anyways.

My parents aren't all that rich either. We would if getting into fights was a job. I really don't like getting into dept with it though. Makes me sick thinking about it sometimes, ya know? My theory in life sometimes, is: "If two people spend too much time with each other, it could be as bad as not seeing them at all." Either way, it causes problems. Everything causes problems actually. No. Life IS the problem. I hate life, and life hates me back.

I can tell when one of my parent's fights start. I'll probably be in my room, trying to figure out homework I'll never understand, and one voice is heard. Then another. Soon, things are smashing against the walls, windows, anything. The T.v. is gone, not that I really noticed. But one thing I have noticed is my bedroom door. It's not there anymore. I miss it. I use to be able to ignore the yells and screams a little and half-ass my way through my homework. But things seem to be getting worse. Normal kids hate going to work. I love it. The day I hit sixteen I got a job. That was my birthday present to me. My parents forgot. I did not remind them, it would only start more problems. I'll probably say this more than once, but I hate life and life hates me back.

I work at one of those department stores. Ya know, the place you buy hardware: tools, nails, and other junk. I call it junk. It all looks the same to me, weather you plug it in or not. It still looks like it wants to kill me. My stomach turns there, but I manage. It's a relief compared to home. I get lots of cuts and bruises there. But I don't do a whole lot. Just take in carts, help people load stuff in their cars, and carry boxes filled with God knows what. Knowing my luck, something that wants to stab me in the chest.

I'm happy at the end of my shift though. Cartman usually picks me up around ten and brings me home. He always complains how he had to get up and off his ass to come get me, but I can tell he doesn't mind. If he did, he wouldn't. Trust me. He has ever since that one day I walked home at night and got sick. I went to the hospital for a week. He visited me each day after school. He was still complaining then.

He drives me to school in the morning too. He usually comes an hour early so we can sit down to eat breakfast. If he doesn't get breakfast in the morning, his mood is ruined and he gets pissed off more than usual.

I snap out of my own little world. My cheek felt hot and I knew it was red because my palm had been resting on it. My eyes flashed at Cartman. He had asked me something, didn't he? Damn my short attention span. "What?" I said, dumb as ever. I looked down at the yellow smiley face cookie. The eyes and mouth were iced with hardened brown frosting. I always wondered how they got it that way. Sitting besides me was a mug of coffee, black. I won't take it any other way. If I did, I would shoot myself. I liked it the way it was. It was bitter, yes, but it would not be 'coffee' with all the added stuff in it. Plus, it was cheaper.

My ear rang with Cartman's voice again. I wasn't paying attention again. I missed it. I shook it off and presented him with one of my plain, Yeah's. I've been spending more time with him, ever since Stan turned goth yet again and Kyle is trying to set him straight. But that's a different story. The good thing about Cartman was, he didn't have any intention in changing who he was and what he stood for. I didn't either. I liked him the way he was, just like my coffee. You take away the very essence of who someone, or something, is, it simply isn't IT anymore.

Cartman was fat, yes. But not in a bad way. It fit him. It suited him. And the clothes he wore only made it look more natural. He had an all powerful attitude, being bigger only made him look tougher. Meaning, people listened to his 'authority.' He has the sunglasses to prove it.

I laugh, thinking about him in those ridiculous glasses. Then, look up at him. He did not seem too happy. ! looked down at my cookie. The cookie did. I picked it up and ate a portion off and lifted my gaze at him. The small café did not have many people in today. Then again, it usually doesn't. I was rambling on in my head again, wasn't I? "What?" I asked again.

His disapproval grow more. He picked up his usual chocolate milk and took a sip out of the bendy straw. He set it down and folded his large hands onto the table. Each finger intertwining perfectly with the others. He could probably squish someone's skull with those. Ya know, like those Friday the Thirteenth movies? Nah, never mind. You probably wouldn't. "Kenny, I asked three times already. Is your dumb blonde hair clogging your ears or something?" I could tell he was holding back anger. He voice was shaky, but not loud enough to actually be yelling at me.

I heard him this time, but that was not what he was asking me was it? I look down, ashamed. Why did I have to be such a loser? "No, sorry. I just have a lot on my mind, dude." This was true. I wouldn't lie to him. He was the only real person I could turn to right now. I scratched my right arm and flinched, forgetting a scrape was there.

He sighed, his thick chest moving with the motion. He gave me a tired look, as if he were sick of playing a game. He took another bite out of his pancakes and stood, "I'll be right back. I have to shit." With that said, he left me at the table and went for the men's restroom.

I laughed again, this time at Cartman's openness. If he wanted to, he'd take a shit in front of everyone (not many, but some) in this place and not give a damn. I liked that. Well, not watching him take a dump, but the way you could read him perfectly. And you wouldn't even have to. He would tell you what was on his mind. If something pissed him off, you would know first hand by him. He never kept secrets.

Not like me…

I took another sip of my coffee. It tasted like hot water and leaves, with a hint of bran kinkiness. It kind of reminded me of gum you chewed too long. But it was satisfying either way. It tastes bad before, after, and during each sip, but there was something about it I could not get enough of.

Cartman was going to be awhile. Usually about fifteen minutes. I laughed again. I don't know why. Maybe it was Cartman again. I picked my cookie up and chewed the brown smile off. I was the only one who was suppose to be smiling. I put it down at looked at it. Two little round pieces of frosting. My smile grew. "Boobs," I whispered pointing to it. Cartman would have laughed too if he were here. Maybe not. Maybe I was just perverted. I admit I was.

Time was going by slow, and I did not have a fancy little cell phone you could flip out and play the little demo game 'Bejeweled.' I could not even look through a digital phonebook. The only phonebook I had was in my head. I knew Cartman's number by heart.

I recited the number in my head a few times before a waitress stopped by the table. She took my half eaten cookie plate along with Cartman's. She held both in one hand, balancing it. I watched amused. It was not long until I was staring at her chest. They were huge, but they weren't real. I can tell when a rack is real. Take Bebe, THOSE sons of bitches are real.

She stared at me and smiled. She was about to say something, probably asking if I needed anything else. I didn't. "Check please." I said before she could get a word out. I gave the fake breasted chick a dirty look and tightened my hood with the small orange strings for my defense. She was looking at my face. I hated when people did that. I'm not good looking. I know that.

She simply nodded and was on her way.

I snatched my wallet out of my pocket, even if the check was not presented to me yet. I looked inside. A few dollars. I really wanted to surprise Cartman, showing I DID have money to pay for us both, but I didn't. I watched it with a grimace, like it was my wallets fault I did not have anything inside… hardly.

"Put your poor money away," It was Cartman. He was back. He was staring at me like I offended him or something, "We're out in public, we don't need to see you flashing your poor ass money. Now, stick your Goddamn wallet back in your poor ass pants!" He slapped a twenty on the table and went to my side. He was guarding me until I put my money away.

I watched him in defeat. There was no arguing with him, but I kind of got the vibe that he did not mind paying for my breakfast either. Like I said, if he didn't want to do something, he wouldn't. I shoved the worn out wallet into my orange pant pocket.

"Now, come on. You'll be late to class AGAIN! Then, I'll have to drag your poor ass out of detention, AGAIN! If that happens, So help me God, Kenny. I'll kick you in the nuts!" He wouldn't. He shouted it anyways to make a scene like he always did. Cartman leaving without a big scene wasn't logical at all. He left me.

I followed. I always did. Like a puppy follows its master. No matter how brutally they are treated, they always are loyal to their master. As I am, loyal to Cartman. He's really the only one who has listened to my problems. I could tell he was listening, even though he might not show it. Shy? Cartman? Never. He has always just been weak at showing true emotion. Then again, he always says 'hippies' are the only ones who show emotion.

I don't want to be a hippy.

I heard the little ding from the door. Showing we were outside. I could tell. It was freezing. I walked faster and went to his side and held onto his wide arm. It was warm. He was always warm, to me anyways. I let a few shudders slip by, but my temperature rose a little from the other's body heat. He didn't do anything. He never did. Anyone else he would call gay, but he always ignored my touch.

His car beeped. He had an automatic door opener. I ran from him to the passenger's side and opened the door. I sat down and buckled my seatbelt, holding myself since the car was now cold again. I waited for him to get in too I could cling to him once more.

It was a few seconds after I got in until he got to the door and opened it. The breeze hit my face, but Ignored it for now. He sat down, causing the car to shake a bit. I didn't mind. I was so use to it by now, I would have never know it did anymore. He shut the door and put the right key into the ignition, starting the car up. The heat was blasting hard out of the vents, but only cold air came from it. Meaning, the car needed to warm up. He twisted the knob until it was to the windshield. The air blasted through the vents of the windshield.

My arms wrapped around his one and I rested my head on it. He was so warm. It gave me the chills sometimes. I kinda wish moments like this would never end. I really hated school. Nobody really liked me. The stuck up bitches. It didn't matter, not as long as I had my best friend.

He took his arm away from me. I whined. It wasn't fair. He was warm. I looked up with a disappointed look. I forced my head by his body, but his hand went to my head first, stopping me. His hand went down, so my chin was resting on his fingers and his large thumb came up and traced the under lining of my eye.

He shook his head, "You didn't sleep again, did you?" He released my chin and placed his hand on top of the steering wheel. I kind of figured he knew what my answer was.

I didn't. I think too much.

He became aggravated and rubbed at his eyelids, "What am I goin' to do with you, McCormick?" He gave a petty look my way and searched his pocket for two singles and handed them to me, "At least eat lunch today. I swear, if I find you outside smoking instead, I'll kill you." His enthusiasm wasn't in his sentence like it usually is. It sounded more serious.

I shoved his hand away and turned so my back was facing him, "Yeah, whatever." We were constantly having difficulties with this subject. I hated lunch. No one to sit with. No one, but snobs. I shivered once, more so from the cold. The car seriously needed to warm up faster.

"Fine, I give up. I could care less if you starve your little poor ass self." He flicked the bucks my way anyways and put the car in drive. We were on our way to one of the places I hated most. Note: I said 'one,' I hated my home more.

After a few minutes of being stubborn, I gave up. It was too damn cold. I turned back around and put my arm around him, laying my head on his soft stomach. It wasn't that comfortable, but it was comfortable enough. The damn Cd holder between us was jabbing into my side. Without it, it would be like fucking heaven, not that i know what that feels like. My eyes stared at the red coat before I buried my face into the warmth. My eyes closed. I was so damn tired. So fucking, Goddamn tired.

Before I knew anything, the car was stopped. We had to be in Hell, I mean, school by now. I pretended I was still sleeping. I wanted to rest as much as I could, and Cartman usually give me five minutes before actually getting out of the car.

My hood was pulled off just slightly as he began to massage at my head. My eyes remained closed. I almost laughed. He really thought I was asleep, didn't he? I could have pissed myself laughing, if it didn't feel so good.

I cuddled closer to his chest, feeling his heartbeat on my forehead. I noticed. It was going a lot faster than usual. I most have pissed him off. But was he still mad at that? Was he even still mad?

There were voices outside, not close. Far away. I didn't want to leave. It actually felt like nothing would kill me when I was close to Cartman, but once we go our separate ways. Then, what? Maybe I was just paranoid.

I heard him sigh. His hand lifted. That wasn't a good sign. I didn't want to leave this car. I had to, but I didn't want to. I didn't want him to 'wake me up.'

I threw my arms around his thick body, well as much as I could. He knew I had to be awake now. "Do we have to?" I muffled out from his jacket. He had to know what I meant.

It took him awhile to answer. At first I didn't think he heard me. I almost looked up to see what was up, but I returned my head to where it was once I heard him, "Yes." It was that foreign seriousness again. His hand reached the back of my neck and he played with a few strands of my blonde hair.

I pulled my body up, but my head felt groggy. I went to go sit in my seat, but instead, fell forward from dizziness. I swing my arms around his neck in defense and landed with my back on his lap. It was a better land than I thought. But looking up, we were face-to-face. When my arms were around his neck, I must have pulled his head down with me.

He watched me for awhile. What was he looking at? My cavity filled mouth? …or my sunk in anorexic looking face? That, or the huge bags under my eyes.

I let him go and put my hood on. I tightened it so I wouldn't have Cartman suffer with looking at me. I got out of the car. We were at school. Meaning, all that 'close friend' stuff we were doing before had to stop. I wasn't allowed to hold onto him, or even smile in his direction. Not that anyone could tell.

I saw him get out of his car. It beeped, indicating it was locked. He looked my way again before shoving the keys into his pocket. He did not bother taking his hand out from the pocket. Instead, put his other hand in the one on the opposite side. He began walking.

I followed.

I was sick of this. My life was so repetitive, it wasn't even funny. Couldn't anything different happen in my life? Instead, could I just keel over and die? On second thought, I wouldn't do that to Cartman. He was all I had, and I was all he had. But was this life? Is this all there is? Then, what? Get old, work, sleep, work, sleep, piss, pay bills, work, sleep, sleep, piss again, and die? It made me wonder sometimes. Wondering if there was something more. Something better.

My head bowed a little. I wanted to hold Cartman's arm. I always feel that at school. It was a wall. An unsaid rule that was made. Something he and I understood perfectly, without words. What would happen if I broke that boundary? What would happen if I broke that rule? Did I want to find out that much? Why? There wasn't a point.

I trailed behind. I always did. I always followed Cartman. There were rare moments when I didn't, but I usually did. I even agree with him, even when I know he's wrong and full of shit. The beauty of this friendship was, Cartman's right. End of discussion. You could say I'm a follower. But who would go against the one person who does everything for you. I was always in his debt, even if he did not expect anything back.

"You working tonight?" He said. That must have been his question from before. I heard it loud and clear now.

"No," I shook my head, even if his back was turned to me. I felt stupid after it. I shouldn't, since he didn't see. Why was I worried about it then? I continued, "I do tomorrow. Why?" I waited, eager to what he would say next.

"You," He started, not finishing until he looked over his shoulder and his eye contact met with mine, "want to hangout for a lil'? I finally got a second controller so you can play 360 too." He was always so damn casual. It was all the time too. Well, not all the time. If anyone else was with us he would have said, "Kenny, you're coming over to muh house. So, get yo poe' ass over to muh house after schoo'!" Since no one was around, he didn't feel the need to make it a big deal, I guess.

Either way, I was relieved to hear that from him. Now, I knew I could hang with him until late so I can avoid the fighting. I usually fall asleep there. Next to him, watching t.v. Or a movie. I smiled, but because of my hood, it probably only showed the bottom portion of my eyes rise up. He knew my smile, and I knew his. He knew my answer before I said it. I wanted to hug him, but that was off limits.

He broke eye contact now and continued, "After schoo,' meet me by my car. If I'm not there, just wait." He always told me this. He acted like I wouldn't come back after school. It really sucked though, not having any classes with him that is. Made it harder for me to see him.

"Of course," I answered back, watching his back now that I was no longer staring at his eyes. Bored with his back and his red coat my gaze fell lower. His ass looked sweet. His jeans gave it a little lift today. Other days he'd wear baggy ones. But every once in a great while, I'd get my eye candy. If I had it my way, I would glue those pair onto him. It showed off a little more. I liked what he wears under his poofy coat, but I only get to see if I come to his house. Which was today. I wondered what he was wearing.

I was smiling like a complete idiot, but no one saw. Since no one CAN see, I would continue with my little fantasy. I'm not gay, honest. If you look long and hard enough, Cartman has his own charm. He was hot.

"So, why didn't you sleep THIS time?" I heard him say. He acted like I did this more than once. Well, I have, but still. He didn't have to make it sound so… demeaning. He treated it like one of my other habits.

I shrugged. I didn't want to go on with this conversation. Couldn't he talk more about his 360? It was easy for him to brag on and on about one of his video games. But no, we had to bring this up again, "Just thinking."

"Thinking?" One word question. Meaning, I had to answer back with what I was thinking about. I hated that. We were now on the side walk. School was so close, it made me cringe.

"I had a nightmare," It sounded stupid. Something a little two year old with a nightlight would say. It was the truth though. I have become paranoid lately.

"About…?" He was still questioning me. What was this? Twenty-one questions? It was starting to get offended by him getting into my personal business.

"About dying," I said plain and simple. I wasn't going to add anything onto it, but I figured talking about it might help a bit, "I keep having dreams where everything wants to kill me. But I wake up right before I actually 'die.'" It sounded even stupider out loud.

"Kenny," He turned looking right at me, "You have the weirdest imagination I've ever known." It was an insult. Right after he said it, he laughed as if it were a joke. I was serious. He didn't seemed to be buying it, was he?

I shoved my hands in my pockets and passed him with a dirty look. Does he have to make a joke about everything? I guess, I was just a little frustrated lately, but there was that sense of danger around me more and more. Scared, I guess. You could put it that way.

He must have understood I was no longer joking because he followed me. He followed me. Why does that sound odd? He turned me around and gave me an even dirtier look than I had given him. Don't know how? I was the one who didn't have a shower this morning. "Jesus Christ, Kenny. Don't be such a Goddamn pussy!" He mouthed each word perfectly, but the sound came out scratchy from his throat. He was letting anger out on me, I was already a verbal punching bag as it was.

I pushed him off to get my own space back. My personal belongings are mine only (unless I share), but mine aren't something you can see at this moment. I backed up, trying to gain it back. His pushiness was pissing me off and his words weren't exactly fun either, "Leave me alone, you fat fuck!" I shouted back. My frustration was building and needed to get something out. Even if it was negative.

He always turned red when I called him that. You call him that and all Hell breaks loose. It wasn't a good thing for me. My space would probably be invaded a lot sooner than I thought. He would hate me now for that. Sure enough, I was right. He grabbed me by the coat collar and forced so we were eye to eye. "I swear! Call me that again, you poor son of a bitch!" Son of a bitch? He was calling my mom a bitch? Like I cared. That only effected Kyle.

My nerves seemed to calm, but I humored him. I would never learn, would I? I repeated what I had called him as if each word were their own separate sentence, "You. Fat. Fuck." I gave him a proud victory smile, even if I was the one who was going to pay for it.

He let out a few raged snarls right in my face, but he threw me down. He didn't even look back to see if I was hurt or not. Which I wasn't. But still. He just walked away with a familiar shout of, "Screw you guys, I'm going to class!" 'Guys?' Talking to me like I was more than one person, or I made him so angry he couldn't think straight.

I looked back at him. He left me on the ground, like the poor piece of crap I was. The poor perverted piece of crap with a bitch for a mom. I watched the ground and coughed a few times. I was nasty enough to have saliva linger off my lips. I looked back up at him. Those jeans still made his ass look totally sweet.