Graduation Parties

After graduation, my Mom planned to throw a big graduation party. My mom encouraged me to go to as many as possible because she had lots of dishes to cook; mine would be later tonight. She was in the kitchen, calling relatives…and when I say relatives, I mean every member of my Jewish family on BOTH sides. As you can see, being Jewish, we tend to have big families who are loud and constantly eating. Basically an easier way to put it: a dysfunctionpalooza.

Also, being Jewish, we have neurotic mothers who are constantly feeding you even though you don't want to eat (it's no wonder most of them are fat) and always planning extravagant parties that aren't necessary. For example, for my brother, Ike's bris, she put out guest towels in the bathroom, which nobody in our family is allowed to touch and brought out china that we never used normally, and of course, putting plastic on the couch.

As for food, we're constantly eating Kosher: some examples are knishes, matzah balls in soup, etc. My Mom is always in the kitchen, making Kosher food. I like eating Kosher, but when you know you've had enough, Mom's just going to plop more on your plate and the one problem is that she never takes 'no' for an answer. She will be like:

"Kyle, you haven't touched your knish!" "Kyle, have more gefilte fish!" "Kyle, here's another serving of latkes!"

I'm surprised that I haven't gotten fat from having all that food shoved on my plate.


The first party I went to was Cartman's party, which was right after the graduation ceremony and it was in his basement. I didn't want to go, but my Mom said that since it was going to be the last time I was going to see everybody. I would be glad to get away from Cartman when college started.

When I showed up, I saw that not very many people showed up. I wasn't surprised since Cartman didn't have very many friends because everybody hated him. Butters, of course, had shown up with a hamburger casserole. I showed up with some embarrassing Jewish dish, which I knew Cartman was going to make fun of anyway.

"Oh! Hello, Kyle," said Mrs. Cartman, smiling. "Thanks for coming to Eric's graduation party! My, that looks yummy! You can put your dish over on the table."

"Thanks," I said. I was surprised that an awful demon seed named Eric Cartman came from such a nice, wonderful lady like Mrs. Cartman.

"You can tell your mother that I said thank you."

"I will."

Cartman's mom made chili, cheeseburgers, hot dogs, fried chicken, cake and pie: all fatty, junky food. I wasn't surprised that Cartman was diabetic when he turned twelve since all he ate was junk food and ate almost huge meals everyday and yet his Mom still stuffed his face even though his doctors had warned her not to feed him junk food. I was surprised he didn't die from diabetic shock. Being diabetic, I had to watch what I ate most of the time. However, since I exercised a lot and ate healthy Kosher foods, so it wasn't too bad…perhaps I could make an exception today.

"Oh, hello, Kyle!" Cartman said, mockingly, spraying me all over with food. He stuck his fat, disgusting, grubby fingers in all the snacks and stuffed his face. It was really disgusting! "Say, what's that you brought?" He sniffed it and made a disgusted face. "Urgh! What is that, last-night's vomit?"

"Shut up, asshole!"

"Whatever, Jew boy!" He chugged a beer.

"Beer? You have beer?" I said incredulously. "You can't buy beer, fat ass! You're only 18!"

"Of course I can. With this!" He showed me his wallet, which had a driver's license. I looked closely and saw that his date of birth was a different year.

"Dude, you have a fake ID?" said Stan.

"Mmph-mmmph-mppmph?" said Kenny.

"Oh, I'm not telling," he said in an annoying sing song voice. "Oh? Is that jealousy I see in your eye, Kyle? Yes, drown me in the sweetness of your envy."

"Shut up, fat ass! Having a fake ID is stupid!"

"Shut up, Jew rat! Having a fake ID is cool! You're just jealous that you can't buy beer!"

"Jealous of what? That I can buy beer so I can be a drunk, stupid asshole?"

"Whatever!" He chugged his beer and belched in my face.

I moved away from him because I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I sat with Stan, hoping to talk to him, but he was making out with Wendy. I stood in the corner, talking to Kenny; sure, we weren't really friends, but it was better than watching your best friend suck face with his girlfriend.

I was jealous of Stan because he had a girlfriend. He and Wendy even did it already…he wouldn't say when I asked. I was still a virgin. I planned on waiting until I met the right girl…and of course, she had to be Jewish, said my Mom.

"So, what are you doing for your graduation party?" Cartman said, interrupted. His breath smelled like beer and Cheesy Poofs. He sprayed me with food.

"Well, for starters, you're not invited," I said.

"What?! Everybody is invited to a graduation party, even if you don't like them."

"Well, not mine! You're just going to rip on everyone there!"

"Ah, screw you, Jew! I'm not coming anyway! Besides, I have lots of beer that I'll bring."

"Don't bother because you're not invited…and if you did, you would get me in trouble."

"Good. Maybe it's time to be a bad boy, Kyle. Have a beer."


"Fine, Jew rat! Be a pussy! I don't care!"

"Hey, fellas!" said Butters.

"Hey, Butters," said Cartman. "Have a beer!"

"Oh…um, I'm not sure I should. My parents will ground me if they find out that I was drinking beer."

"Well, I see you and Kyle have something in common: you're both pussies!"

"Shut up, Cartman! You leave Butters alone!" I turned to Butters. "Don't listen to Cartman. He's being an asshole."

"Oh, come on! Have a beer, Jew!" he said, tossing me a beer. I saw that all eyes were on me. Even Stan and Kenny were drinking. I was shaking and sweating; thousands of thoughts ran through my head. "Come on, pussy! Chug!"

I sipped the beer. It was really gross. It was really warm and I almost threw up. Suddenly was a burst of laughter: Cartman was laughing and pointing at me.

"Like your pale ale, Kyle?" He was rolling on the floor laughing.

I spit it out. I smelled it and sure enough, it smelled like bleach! Oh my GOD!

"SICK, DUDE!" I yelled.

"What happened?" asked Stan.

"I gave Kyle a pale ale!" Cartman said laughing.

"Dude, that's not cool!" said Stan.

"Mmph!" Kenny agreed.

"Come on, guys," I said. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

I went to as many as possible, including Stan's. His was pretty cool. Of course, his parents had a barbeque in a buffet style: everyone had to bring their own dish. His dad, Randy, was in the backyard, dumping beer on hamburgers, hot dogs, and steak. His mom made steamed vegetables, salad, and ricearoni.

Soon, my graduation party was ready. Everybody pretty much showed up, a majority was my Jewish relatives on both sides of my family: some of them were already chatting away, chowing down on Kosher, and some were chatting wildly in Hebrew that I didn't know what the hell they were saying. My great-aunt, Anna, came all the way from Germany because…well, we weren't weird enough. Great-aunt Anna was extremely sensitive that she rarely visited: for example, she and my grandma, Cleo, got into a fight because she married my grandfather and refused to speak to her for almost ten years. She wouldn't even see my Mom when she was a little girl. It took them almost ten years just for my grandma and her to make up. I watched as they were chatting rapidly in German. I didn't know what they were saying.

My friends showed up as well: Stan brought a salad, Kenny brought fried chicken from some fast food restaurant, since that's all his parents could afford. Butters brought a hamburger casserole. Craig brought some Irish dish that I didn't know what it was, but it smelled really good. Clyde brought potato salad. Token brought some expensive dish that probably their personal chef prepared. I enjoyed my party.

"Hey, DUDES!" said Cartman's dreadful voice. He apparently had too many drinks: he stunk of beer and was covered in crumbs. It was a disgusting sight to see.

"Cartman, get out!" I yelled. "You weren't invited!"

"Hey, Kyle, chill!" he said. "It's a graduation party! Everybody is invited!"

Soon, he was sticking his hands in all the snacks and stuffing his face; crumbs were all over his red jacket and his face. It was so disgusting. My relatives stared in horror at the sight of this fat kid and his horrible behavior.

"Kyle, who is your little friend?" said my uncle, Murray, disgusted.

"He's no friend of mine," I said, humiliated. "He's just a stupid party-crasher."

"Ew!" he screamed. "Gross! This stuff smells like dog crap!"

Great-aunt Anna gasped and she yelled at Cartman in German.

"Ah, screw you, Jew bitch!" he yelled, drunk.

"Was-was-WAS!" Great-aunt Anna screamed. (My mom told me this means 'what' in German. The W is pronounced like V.)

All of my relatives stared in horror and shock when they heard this. I was so angry and embarrassed!

"Cartman, get out of my house!" I yelled. "You're ruining my party!"

"Shut your goddamn Jew mouth!" I yelled. "I go wherever I want! It's graduation!"
"Eric," said my Mom. "I think you'd better leave now before I call the police!"

"Ah, suck my balls!" he yelled.

Before he could get any worse, he stood up, drinking his beer.

"All you Jews are rats!" he said. He ranted on and on, saying every anti-Semitic slur in the book in front of all of my Jewish relatives, who stood there, horrified. Many people were looking at me as if this kid was my friend. Sooner or later, he was pointing at all my Jewish relatives, calling them every horrible anti-Semitic name in the book. I wanted to die…or better yet, I wanted Cartman to die!

"Oh, by the way, Kyle drank beer at my party!" he blurted out.

"SHUT UP, CARTMAN!" I yelled.

"Kyle!" said my Dad. "Is that true?"

I was turning redder and redder as all of my Jewish relatives were staring at me. Cartman had officially ruined my graduation party, the best day of my life with his boorish behavior. First, Cartman crashed my party by showing up when I made it clear that he wasn't invited. Not only that, he showed up drunk. Then, he ate all of our food that my Mom spent hours cooking, he insulted my German Jewish aunt in front of everybody, called my relatives horrible names, and then, he told everyone that I drank beer.

I couldn't hold back my anger anymore. I went over to Cartman and socked him as hard as I could in the stomach. He went down like a sack of doorknobs. Soon, I began punching and kicking him, screaming at how much I hated him.

"KYLE! STOP IT!" my Dad yelled, pulling me off.

He forced me off of Cartman; he lied on the floor, coughing; his face red and there were tears streaming down his face, clasping his fat stomach. Blood streamed from his nose.

"I HATE YOU!" I screamed.

"You are grounded, young man!" said my Mom.

I was so angry at Cartman! I wanted to kill him! After the party was over, my Great-aunt Anna was screaming at me in German: even though I didn't know what the hell she was saying, but in a way I had an idea of what she was saying.

Soon, my Mom and Dad gave me a lecture about why underage drinking was bad, which I didn't really need to hear because they already had this stupid talk with me. It was so stupid! Cartman was such an asshole! I sat in my room, angry that I didn't kill him fast enough.

"It wasn't my fault!" I said. "Cartman was the one who gave me the beer! He pressured me! His mom even ordered a keg for his party. Plus, he gave me a pale ale!"

"What is that?" asked my father.

I told him this, knowing this reference from American Pie where one of the kids put spooge in a beer and Stifler drank it.

"What-what-WHAT?!" my Mom screamed.

"Sheila, calm down," said my Dad. "You know how hard it is not to give into peer pressure."

"That's no excuse, Gerald. He still drank beer. I'm calling Mrs. Cartman and going to give that woman a piece of my mind," she said. "As for you, Kyle. Go to your room. You are not allowed to drive the car for a week."

I sighed as I went up to my room, angry. I heard my Mom screaming on the phone to Cartman's mom downstairs. The thought of hearing my Mom scream at Cartman's mom was good enough revenge for me. Of course, I knew Cartman's mom wouldn't do anything because she spoiled him constantly. I could still hear my Great-aunt Anna's voice screaming in German in my head as I lied down to sleep that night.

I couldn't wait to leave South Park to get away from Cartman.