Notes: Another 'New England KKK: Jewish and Poor' story. This one is kind of a filler to set up the rest of the series.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, and I make no profit from this work.

For the Psychics Are Suckers

"Stop the car, stop the car."

Kyle hit the brakes, just as they left the town, and skidded to a halt in front of the sign welcoming safe drivers to South Park. Kenny, beaming from ear to ear, scrambled out of the car, ripped open his jeans, and urinated with obscene gusto on the sign.

Perhaps it would be overkill to mention, at this point, that Kenny was glad to be leaving.

"Can we get out of the state before you get done for public indecency?" Kyle asked pointedly. "Again?"

"Sure, sure," Kenny said, buttoning his jeans again and hopping back into the car. "Fuck you, South Park! Fuck you!"

"You'll be homesick in a week," Kyle said, then reconsidered. "If you are, I promise to kill you again."

"Until I snap out of it?"

"Sure, why not."

"Good," Kenny said.

"Won't you miss any of it?"

"Only the things that can be found elsewhere, or moved. Like Raisins and Stan," Kenny said. "Everything else...nah."

Kyle shrugged. Kenny had spent the last three years of high school gathering grades to get out of South Park and not be the resident poor (and by default, assumed stupid) kid any more.

"I'm going to make something of myself," he'd vowed once, a couple of years ago after one too many swiped beers from Stan's sister, Shelley. "I'm not going to turn out like my dad."

And he had.

Kenny had always been assumed to be kind of stupid, and very perverted. And while the perverted was absolutely, one-hundred-and-nine-point-eight percent correct, the stupid bit had been wrong. Kenny was, in fact, almost as clever as Kyle, and had graduated third in the year at the end of high school. Beaten, naturally, by Kyle and Wendy Testaburger.

Things came easily to Kenny. He was intuitively smart - things worked or they didn't, and he could grasp a new concept well ahead of most other people. He found intelligence to be an easy thing, and didn't have to put in a lot of work to get the reward. Which had meant, while the others worked hard to get mediocre grades (or, in Cartman's case, worked hard to cheat) Kyle and Kenny had been able to hang out together waiting for the rest of them to catch up.

Which was how they were in Kyle's car, heading for the Colorado border, taking a two-day road trip to get to Connecticut.

They were getting out of Colorado and, in Kenny's eyes, out of a proverbial Hell.

Connecticut was going to be a new chance. They had organised a tiny flat for the two of them, would pick up bar work and part-time work and minimum-wage work, save up (apart from, obviously, the odd case of a new magazine or buying a pretty girl drinks in a bar) and then, when the year was up, they would move on.


That was the next step in their plan. Kyle was just thinking of the Ivy League in general, but Kenny was thinking Yale in particular. That way, they would get used to Connecticut. And he was going to get a place there. No way was he going to come this far to fall back into mediocrity. Everyone knew Kyle would make the Ivy League, but nobody would bet Kenny, even if he did have one hell of a high school diploma now.

Well, fuck them.

He was going to make it whether they liked it or not.

"I have waited so fucking long for this!" Kenny whooped out of the open window, and Kyle snorted, grinning.

Ten years ago, nobody would have seen this coming. Kyle and Kenny, off to start new lives in Connecticut where things might be normal (though nobody was betting on it) and ready to forge out worthwhile lives - eventually, via one of the best universities in the country. Kenny, smart enough to get there - hell, smart enough and sober enough and dedicated enough to get through high school at all!

Well fuck the wannabe psychics - they were wrong, and they were suckers.

"I'll take over driving when we hit Nebraska," Kenny offered.

"State by state?" Kyle said.

"Sure. We're stopping in Lincoln, right?"

Kyle nodded, and the town disappeared over the crest behind them.

Stan put down the phone, and slumped back into the couch.

He should have felt happy for them both, he knew, but he couldn't help but resent them a tiny bit. This, he supposed, was part of growing up. People have their own dreams, and they have to go. And hey, there's always Facebook.

Still kinda hurt, though.

"Was that Kyle?" his mother asked, sticking her head around the kitchen door.

"Yeah," Stan said. "They just got the phone line set up in their apartment."

They'd been gone four days, and he already missed them. It was weird enough being without Kyle, but without Kenny as well...heck, Stan might as well be leaving himself. It would be as lonely. So what if they hadn't been as tight-knit in high school as they had in elementary school? They were still Kyle and Kenny and Stan. That was how it worked.

(Cartman could go fuck himself.)

"Well, I'm glad they got there safely," Sharon said. "Tell them I said hi when they next call, okay?"

"Sure, Mom."

She nodded and vanished back into the apartment, and Stan tried to crush that swell of jealousy again.

It's not even Kyle he's jealous of - it's Kenny. He always kind of knew that Kyle would be leaving him behind when they got this far. Kyle's a freaking genius, way smarter than Stan. He'd had the time to prepare for that. And their friendship would endure - they've been through way too much weird shit to fall apart just because there's a few states between them.

But Kenny got thrown into the mix, somewhere in there.

Stan always kind of thought that Kenny would stay in South Park. That, even if Stan hadn't decided to forgo college and stay himself, there would be someone to come back to. Kenny would be a permanent in South Park, something to bring them all home. But somehow, that role has fallen to Stan, and Kenny...

Kenny's gone, too.

And the worst of it?

Stan was afraid - he hated himself for it, but he was and he couldn't crush it - that Kenny was going to replace him in Kyle's life.

And wasn't that just all kinds of fucking gay.