Summary: While MOOP climbs to the top, can the group handle the pressure of stardom, especially Kenny McCormick, whom has never had a chance to live the wealthy and admiring life?
Disclaimers: All characters and other related logo belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.
Hi, my names Kenny McCormick. I'm a sixteen year old male, blond with blue eyes, and I'd like to be your sex slave.
No, just kidding. (Unless you'd like me to.) That's usually how my greetings start out. Simple, casual, and of course showing my perversion. It's pretty much how I'm known through out town. Ever since I was eight years old I've been like that. Little do the pedestrians of South Park know, I have more sides than being a skirt lifter. I happen to be caring, especially more caring than plenty of people in this god forsaken town. I happen to care about what others have to say, when what they say has logic meaning; not just because they like to hear their own voice. I actually listen, unlike half of the students at South Park High. I'm a whole lot knowledgable than 99, I'd say.
Enough about my characteristics. I have plenty of friends. Only three are particularly close to me though; Stan, Kyle and Butters. Stan is a defiant jock; but not a typical one at that. Stan and I share the same traits; caring, smart and understanding. Stan can be really stupid though, I find myself doubting his logic at times. He is the typical boy though, helping at putting the male race to shame at my side; completely girl crazy. He's been dating Wendy on and off for the past nine years. As for Kyle, he's a hot head. He tends to get mad at me easily, but then again, I do find myself getting in trouble easily, so I guess I can't blame him. Kyle is the most likely to come to me with his problems though. We help each other out a lot, sacrificing our time to help aid one another. That's what friends do, right? As for Butters, he's just... well.. Butters is Butters. Stupid and oblivious. Despite these traits of his, you can't help but love the little retard. He's always there for you when you're done, ready to pick you up and help you up onto your horse. He's not appreciated enough for how kind he is, and I sometimes feel horrible for that.
Our group pretty much runs the school, to put it bluntly, and a bit self centered. But it's true. Sure, there are plenty of people on our black list, but there are plenty of people willing to do back flips just to get a simple greeting. I don't know how we managed to get like this, and stay the same way as we've always been. Maybe I'm the only one that really noticed our status. Being popular definately has it's advantages. Sure, I'm not as popular as Stan or Kyle, but I'm up there in a close enough rank. We all still manage to get picked on (I did mention a black list, didn't I?) but we could care less. If we wanted, we could kick them in the nuts and move on with our lives. But somehow, we remain civil... besides Broflovski (Sometimes he gets so angry, I swear I can see steam rise from his ifiery/i hair.) Regardless of the power we have, we all remain together as best friends.
We have our competition though, "Craig and Those Guys", as we call them. Funny thing is, we're still all friends, yet we find ourselves as opponents. I honestly think it's totally stupid to have these cliques fight for the title, but you know, whatever. This is High School for you. It's expected. We always hang out with each other outside of school; Me, Stan, Kyle, Butters, Craig, Clyde, Tweek, Thomas, Token, Jimmy and sometimes Timmy and even Cartman (if we're lucky to get away from Eric.) We always hang out at our usual spot, an abandoned little shack in the woods by Stark's Pond. We first found it when we were at least nine or ten. We were carelessly wondering around the woods, pretending to be playing hunters. Token and Jimmy came across the shack when they were "chasing a rabid deer that tried to bite their heads off". At first, we thought it was some stupid little abandoned building that meant nothing. But of course, Stan went into his determination phase; "Come you guys, if we fix it up it can be rad!" he told us. "We just have to put some hard work into it, but it'll be worth it in the end!" He eventually motivated us enough to get to work. It took us months, maybe even a year to get it done. Through out time though, we slowly added a few things to it, replacing things to make it more grown up and look like a group of teenagers inhabited it. Craig forced us to remove the "No Girls" sign when we were thirteen. A few of us had no problem with it, but a couple were still in the iEww, girls!/i phase. I don't think I was ever like that.. Now it's filled with posters of the women we drool over, our favorite band posters (Funeral For A Friend, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, those kinds of bands.) There's a couch pushed up against one of the walls that we found at the dump. We had to clean it up obviously; it was disgusting before we did. Since half of us have jobs, we pitched in on a miniature fridge, so we have one of those sitting in there with a bunch of sodas and crap, maybe even a bottle or two of beer... You don't want to see us when we're drunk;
We all sit outside of our hang out, a fire crackling in front of us. We sit around it, holding out thin metal bars with marshmallows roasting on them, the smoke rising to the peaks of the sky, licking against the brightly shining stars. A few people are missing from the circle, Craig, Clyde and Stan. The rest of us talk about pointless things. Our conversations are put to a pause though as the three finally arrive. They all hold bags, all of us hooting at them to tell us what they got. They turn the bags over, bags of chips and candy crashing to the ground in front of us. We all laugh, Cartman snagging a bag of Cheesy Poofs for himself and already shoving the snack down his throat. Craig yanks a bag from Stan's grasp, Stan whining at him, saying "I wanted to show them!" Craig doesn't listen though, removing the grocery bag and revealing a package of bottled beer. We all gasp in shock at this, soon to gather around him and take one for ourselves.
"How did you get this?" I had asked him, studying my glass carefully. I pop the cap off, taking a sip and shuddering at the rank smell."I snuck into my dads stash," Craig responded. "He's loaded!""You think this is a good idea?" Token asked, staring at his own bottle with an odd look."Of course it is!" Clyde hollered. "We're fifteen, we're men! We can drink and get away with it."Kyle rolled his eyes. "No you can't dumb ass.""Well we should be able to." I retorted, taking a quick swig of my beer. The others laughed loudly and cheered me on. I drank half of the alcohol before having to pull my lips away from it. It was horrible! I smacked my lips together, a disgusted expression plastered across my face. "That was gross, dude!" I cried.They all laugh. "Don't be such a pussy." Cartman hisses."I'm not a pussy, fat ass." I snapped back. He didn't respond, just remained listening to the rest of us chatter.
We eventually finished off our first bottles, Craig whipping out the second package, all of us screaming with joy at the sight of it. We eventually calm down after an hour of nothing but drinking. We all sit around the fire, Stan strumming at his guitar (I swear he takes that thing with him everywhere!). He sounds a lot better when he's not drunk. He doesn't sound horrible though, or at least not to my numb ears. Kyle is gently tapping at his thighs with his palms, helping out with a beat. The song they're weakly preforming resembles Are You Gonna Be My Girl by The Jets. I try to ignore Jimmy and Butter's snoring as I try to sing it. The others chuckle at me under their breath, and I find myself giggling a long with them as I continue singing it. I'm surprised to hear one of them say "You guys aren't half bad."I stop singing. "You should hear us when we're sober." They all break out into laughter.
That's when Stan, Kyle, Cartman (Yes, lard ass.) and I decided to OFFICIALLY start a band. Stan is the lead guitarist, Kyle the bass, Cartman on drums, and I'm obviously the singer. Sure, we had started a band a long time ago, when we were eight, but that was old news. We never really fell through and we were never really dedicated to the band. Granted, we gave up. Now we're in a band once again, and we continue to be titled iMoop/i, as stupid as it is. We decided to carry it on because it was what really got us started and on our feet. So we go by Moop. We've even managed to get a few gigs, but only small shows at the local club, or at the dances. The first gig will never be as good as our others though. The adrenaline in my veins, the cheering. It was great;Kyle and I stare through a slit between the curtain and the wall, watching the opening band. They're amazing. We both back up, shaking my head. "I don't know if I can do this!" I squeak."Oh shut up, Kenny." Stan teases. "You can do it, just give yourself confidence. We'll all do great.""Yeah," Kyle agrees. "Just don't forget the lyrics.""I'll try not to." I huff, looking away and back the stage. The song ends way too fast, and the band is sent back stage. The announcer talks to the crowd, asking "Was that great or what?!" they all answer with a booming "Yes!" Then he announces us, biting onto my lip and turning back to my three friends. Despite the nervous tension, I flash a grin and they do as well. Kyle thrusts his fists out. We all take it, smiling, all though Cartman hesitated and took it last."Well guys?" he says. "Are we in it?"
"To win it!" Stan and I shout, Eric grumbling it off key. We merge on stage once the crowd settles. I take my place at the microphone, my confidence bowling to nothing but puddy. My hands sweat, thus, I wipe them on my black jeans before putting them to the mic. I stare at the crowd, gulping down the hard lump in my throat. The beginning music of Into Oblivion by Funeral For a Friend begins, my heart racing anymore. Cartman has already started the drumming, and soon enough Kyle and Stan jump into action with their guitars, bass and electric vocalizing each other brilliantly. Then it's my turn."The days I've felt alone. And the sea, it brings me back again. So that I can see my wife. And I can see my child. Home, I'm home, it never changes, same old faces, same old places." I sing, leading to the chorus in no time. A grin is on my face as my hips sway back and forth to the beat. "I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion, into oblivion." I find myself dancing gently to the song, smiling at the crowd who seems to be enjoying our performance so far. That causes my heart to burst. "Find in me the home, that you have never known. Find in us the faith. The faith to bring you home. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion, and found my own reflection there." The song slows down, Stan strumming gently now. "Home. Now that I'm coming home, will you be the same as when I saw you last? Tell me how much time has passed?" I repeat it one last time before it picks up again. "Home. Now that I'm coming home, will you be the same as when I saw you last? Tell me how much time has passed? I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own. I stared into oblivion and found my own reflection there." My singing cuts off, the guitars fading away. It's over now. The crowd jumps, shouting at us. They liked it, they really, really liked it. I can tell I'm smiling like a complete idiot, Stan and Kyle rushing to me and both taking hold of my shoulder."Dude, that was sick!" Stan announces.
I beam. "That was kick ass, that's what it was!"
I loved the adrenaline, the feeling I got when I was on stage. This was then I found out that singing was what I wanted to do, being a band and knowing that everyone loved our talents. All though I still get the same reactions and the same feelings, nothing will ever be as great as the first time we preformed on stage.The Marsh's really love that we're doing this, that we're so dedicated, especially Randy. He was especially ecstatic to know that his son and friends were into this, started a band, and were even trying to get somewhere with it. As for Kyle's mom, she's not as proud. I mean sure, she's proud, but she wished she was doing something else with his life, and she made it completely obvious. Ike absolutely loved it. He begged us every time we practiced if he could join. "Maybe I can help you sing, Kenny! The guitar looks easy, Stan! All you gotta do is bang at a drum, Eric!" We always flat out say no. Poor little guy. As for my parents, they don't really pay attention to the band. They're always too concerned with fighting and having sex to care about what I do. Whenever I practice, they usually tell me to shut the hell up and join the football team or something more manly. Well fuck them, I don't need them...I guess that's all you really to know for now. I think I've tortured you enough with my life story. I guess we should continue on to the next one, right?My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, my tongue sticking out with a determined look settled in my eyes. I stare through the wind shield. The driving instructor, Mrs Joyce, sits in the passenger seat. "You might want to start the engine." she tells me."I was getting to that." I remark quickly. I take hold of the keys, revving the engine and listening as it roars to life. I grin, shaking my shoulders back and forth as a little giddy dance of triumph, all though people do that every day. I place my foot on the gas, pressing down on it. The car jerks forward, Mrs Joyce thrusted forward and hitting against her seat. "Sorry!" I yelp, my excitement draining from my face. I gently tap it this time, letting it go every five seconds."Just hold it down gently." she says. "You don't have to let go so much."
I nod, inhaling and do as she tells me. I decided to pick up the speed a bit, going average. We come up to one of the obstacles, having to avoid the cones. I stare at the bright orange objects. I go through the first two smoothly, but the third one hits against the tire, squished under the pressure. The fourth replicates its sibling, making the car jump, just like the passengers inside. I swerve at the others, slamming my eyes shut at one time. How stupid am I?! The teachers gasps, shouting at me to open my eyes. When I do, I gasp, slamming on the breaks. I nearly crashed the car into a light post. Mrs Joyce turns her head to me. I blink, giving an innocent grin. "Heh, sorry about that. Can we try again.""Not... not today."I frown, nodding. "Right." We change seats, Mrs Joyce parking the car back to its original state. I step from the car, only to run into Stan who is grinning like a doofus. Kyle is the next to catch up, Cartman far in the distance, huffing at them to wait up. I blink, confused. "What is it?""We got another gig!" Stan yelps. Kyle nods, grinning with his fists balled near his face, trembling with excitement."Tell him the rest!" Kyle commands."It's battle of the bands, and there's going to be an agent there." he adds."So?" I say. "That's one in a million chance.""Yeah," Kyle says. "But if we win, we have that chance." I sigh, folding my arms."It's really doubtful.""Brighten up!" Stan demands.Kyle is still all giddy. "If we put on our best show, and if we win, then maybe he'll consider it, dude! Just imagine it! Having chicks scream out your name all over the world." he gives a fake swoon."Really dude, we at least gotta try!" Stan says, trying to break my shell."I dunno.." I sigh. Cartman finally makes it to us, panting with his hands on his knees and hunched over. I spread my arms out, gesturing to my thoughts. "What if we don't? What if we don't win and what if we doesn't want us?""Well then we're failure." Stan says bluntly. I scoff. "And we'll keep trying."We begin walking now, all of us but Cartman huddled near each other as we converse. "Well?" Kyle says. "Are we gonna?"I stare at them with a doubtful look. The two stare back at me, the glistening blue and green finally making me cringe and look away. "Fine!" I say. The two lighten up. "We can enter, but if we don't make it, I get to kick you two gaywods in the nuts."Stan flicks his wrist likes its no big deal. "That won't be needed."
I laugh. "Whatever you say."
End of Chapter 1Authors Comment: Rofl, sorry, no slash this time (or will it change? ;o) xD Also, I know the beginning may be a bit boring, but please stick with it! I'll be adding up the second chapter soon (: