pairings to be included: initial Stendy, later Stenny. mentions of Creek and one-sided Dip
I wander up to the bus stop, head tilted back to watch the clouds floating around. It's snowing. In the middle of May.
This is South Park, I guess.
When I reach the bus stop I take my place beside Kyle. He gives me a nod, which I return.
"Hey!" Stan smirks at me. I wave a reply, since Stan can't see my answering grin through the hood. I'm grateful for the parka, really. It hides all kinds of things, like blushes, stolen goods, inconvenient boners, and this one time last summer a demon goddess intent of raping Kyle's dad.
That was a really trippy summer.
"Jew! Gimme a fucking dollar!" Cartman huffs up to the yellow sign of the bus stop, right on time. Kyle promptly goes scarlet. The metaphorical steam curling out of his ears is practically visible in the frigid air.
"Shut the fuck up, fatass! I'm not giving you a fucking penny!" he screams.
"Ay! I'm not fat, Jew!"
I sigh into my hood. Cartman and Kyle, at it again. Stan rolls his eyes at me and I nod slightly, smiling at the silent comunication. Just another normal South Park morning. I look around suspiciously for the catch.
I'm interrupted by the screech of tires as the bus careens around the corner on two wheels. Faces pressed against the windows, older than the first time we had boarded, but the same people. I can hear Tweek screaming the early morning spaz attack. He's in fine form today. The kid would kick ass in opera.
I step forward, anticipating the stop of the bus. I have these mornings down to an art form. I regularly astonish everyone by guessing down to the minute when the bus would turn the corner.
Too late I notice the slick of dark ice at just the right angle between the bus and me to send it skidding in my direction. Typical. Just fucking typical.
I have time to sigh tiredly and spread my arms before the bus hits me at roughly eighty miles an hour. It isn't a rare occurrence to me, being hit by the school bus. And that is just fucked up.
When the indescribable but familiar agony of having my immortal soul torn from my severely broken body passes, I sit up and glanced around. I have a few moments before I'm sent to the dull waiting room of Hell.
"Oh my god. They killed Kenny." I hear Stan sigh. He looks so sad for me. He'd asked me once what it was like to die. I'd smiled and given him some answer probably involving plenty of hot virgins and sex. I wasn't sure if he had believed me or not.
"Those bastards." Kyle finishes the ritual goodbye after one of my deaths. He looks sad to. I smile. My friends are cool.
Cartman's just eating Cheesy Poofs, the fatass bastard.
The world was fading, going pearly white. Before my vision disappears I see Stan go over and grab my parka from where it's sitting in a pile of what had probably once been my body.
That's nice of him. I'm going to need it when I pop back into existence. Probably in the middle of the lunchroom. Naked, if my streak of crappy luck today is going to last and Damien is feeling as pissy as I am.
Hell slams into my senses all at once. One second I am nothing in a sea of nothing, the next I'm sitting on a dirty folding chair in what looks like the waiting room of a health clinic after a war was fought nearby. There are people from one wall of the room to the next.
I get up and saunter over to the counter where an exhausted looking dark angel's sitting, arguing with a man with a head under his arm. Not his own head, his head is still attached to his neck. The dark angel's black wings are gray with dust and scrawny with disuse, his body in the same state of disrepair.
"Hey, Shay." I lean my elbows on the desk and reach into my pocket. Your clothes, or at least an imprint of them, come with you when you died. According to Damien, that's a recent and much welcomed change.
"Kenny! Got anything for me?" the pathetic angel glances around slyly and holds out a hand for what I wave in front of his face. A stale, bite-sized chocolate bar, milk with almonds, from last year's Halloween.
"Can I get through fast? I have places to be." I beg, making puppy eyes. Shay sighs and nods, waving me through the small door behind him and snatching the chocolate bar from me.
Through the doors a long vista of grassy plains, even more boring than the dull waiting room, roll into the distance. Shady people meander around on it, holding small number cards and talking among themselves. Far away above us looms what looks a little like a carnival wheel, glowing like the sun. The Wheel of Reincarnation.
I turn away from it and walk in the other direction. I want to check in with Damien before I'm 'reborn' on Earth.
In the other direction from the giant Wheel is what looks like an even bigger office building. Dull grey, windows reflect the odd non-light in a rainbow that looked very out of place. Out in front there's a statue on a giant pedestal, over two stories high.
It's a plastic grocery bag, expertly wrought in cast iron. Damien and his weird-ass sense of humor.
I amble across the deceptive distance. In Hell distance is subjective; focus on one spot and walk in that direction and you would arrive there in five minutes. Which is something very useful considering that Satan's office's more than five miles off.
I push open the glass doors and enter the sterile white hall beyond. I probably look out of place, being a rather dirty, bloodstained blond boy in a ratty orange parka, but I got over that a while back. Besides, there's no one but the secretary to see me.
"Kenny! How ya doin'?" the large black man behind the desk slaps me a high-five.
"Yo, Chef. You know, the usual." I grin and shrug.
"What got you this time?" Chef asks. I snort.
"Goddamn bus." I snicker. "Hit the ice and then hit me. Can you fuckin' believe it? Of all the interesting ways to die, I go by the goddamn bus."
"Third time this year." Chef observes.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I gotta talk to Damien. He free?" I roll my eyes. I know exactly how many times I've died by school bus in my lifetime (thirty seven to date), and that's old news.
"He's in his office." Chef waves me off, toward the stainless steel elevator. I saunter away, gesturing behind me with my favorite finger. Chef roars with laughter as the elevator doors close behind me.
The elevator ride's almost exactly like the rest of Hell: boring and sterile. The only difference is the inane background music's even more inane.
I can hear Damien before the doors of the elevator even open. He's berating some poor employee, loudly, shrilly, and at length. As the doors slide open some delicate glass something whizzes past my nose and smashes against the far wall of the elevator.
I sigh. Yeah, it looks like Damien's in a wonderful mood.
"Now get the fuck out of my sight before I kill you twice!" Damien shrieks. A pale woman with a knife sticking out of her back scurries into the elevator past me as I slide into the room.
The room isn't so much an office as every kid's dream room. A screen takes up one whole wall, and various game controllers tangle on the floor. Damien's flopped across the back of his plush couch, glaring at the wall like it'd done something personal.
"Damien. What the fuck's wrong now?" I sigh. Damien whirls to glare at me.
"That bitch broke my Gamesphere controller." He growls, gesturing toward a dented but definitely still working controller. I roll my eyes. Yeah, right. That's totally what's wrong with Damien.
"Liar."I say mildly. Damien growls, grabbing one of the rather sharp picture frames next to him and throwing it directly at me. I duck and it breaks against the wall.
"Son of a bitch!" Damien shrieks. He dashes over and rescues the picture from the damaged frame.
"Seriously, Damien. Just talk to me." I roll my eyes when he glances over at me. He flips me the bird but sighs.
"I don't want to talk about it." He mutters rebelliously. I glance at the picture in his hands. A girly boy with long blond hair and a ridiculous hat grins out of it.
"So, it's Pip." I lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. He shrugs it off.
"He got a girlfriend." Damien says after a while. He sounds deflated. I wince.
"Jesus, Damien. I'm sorry." Damien growls, the sound feral. No matter how human Damien seems, he just… isn't.
"Don't worry. That little whore will regret it for the rest of her life, and when she dies she's gonna regret it for the rest of her afterlife." He smiles viciously. I sigh and close my eyes.
"And remind me why making Pip feel miserable for his girlfriend is a good idea." I ask.
"…Um…" Damien stops, considering.
"You should just talk to Pip. You never know." I urge. Damien sets the picture down decisively.
"I can't." he says stiffly.
"Why not?" I ask. Damien stalks away, the tension radiating from him enough to literally waver in the air like little heat waves.
"None of your business." He growls. I snort. The pissy emo bastard. Wouldn't accept help if he were a starving mortal and I offered him a cracker. Not that I would ever waste a cracker on him if I get one.
"I kinda have to get to school now. I'll die later, kay?" I pat him on the back, dodge the hurled picture frame, and start for the elevator.
"Wait, Kenny. How're things with Stan?" Damien's voice stops me. I flinch.
"Fine." I sound strained, even to myself.
"Right." Damien's comment broadcasts enough sarcasm and disbelief to float a boat in.
"Whatever." I step into the elevator and wait for the doors to close.
"We're both stupid in love, huh, Kenny?" Damien's laughing, but the sound is anything but happy. I flash him the finger as the doors slide shut.
i don't know, should i make the Dip a full out thing? i really like the pairing, but it might seem really out of place :V
Flames will be used to kill Kenny. you bastard.