God. It is SO HOT where I live right now. It was like, 50 degrees last week and now it's NINETY SEVEN. And my school doesn't have air conditioning. I'm writing this to get my mind off of it (and to avoid listening to my lecture, lol).

I really love to write in Kenny's POV. It's so natural for me. Hm.

South Park is fucking retarded. I swear. A few days ago, there was snow on the ground – seriously, it was like, thirty degrees. It's almost one hundred out now, and God knows that nobody would bother to invest in air conditioning in a place like South Park. There's snow on the ground eleven months out of the year.

The fucking library is the only place even remotely cool. There are fans going and the librarian's got a nice mini fridge that emits cold air – nevermind that she's a fucking hypocrite for bitching whenever someone brings food into the library.

Whatever, I can't even complain about her right now. Because it feels do goddamn nice in here. I'm surprised that nobody else knows this place is a great hideout. It's even nice and dry. Because, you know, it's always dry as fuck in South Park – except today. Huh. Try putting a huge bowl of water in an oven and step inside if you'd like to simulate the weather here right now.

I'm not kidding.

I had to ditch my parka. Obviously. It's a nice shelter from the regularly frigid climate here; hell, it even keeps my face warm. But dude. Just looking at a garment with long sleeves is enough to overheat me in these conditions. Seriously. I'm in shorts. Which is saying something, because I hate my pasty sticklike legs. They're not as chalky and rail-like as Kyle's, but they're still pretty bad.

Hey, well. At least the chicks have brought out their tiny denim shorts – for those of them who wear them, at least. It's a bit unfortunate in some cases (I'm looking at you, sophomore-with-cellulite-in-green-shorts), but having Red and Bebe to look at makes it all worthwhile. Even when skinny chicks like Esther and Annie show off their bony white knees.

You know who looks good today? Butters Stotch. I love that kid. He's my favorite. He's got these cute light blue shorts and a fitted graphic t-shirt – it's so kiddish and innocent looking; kind of appealing in a weird way. Not like I'm into little kids or whatever, but um. Well. All I'm saying is that Butters doesn't look half bad.

And I tell him that every day! Butters and I hang out a lot, just because he doesn't have too many people to talk to and he's usually naïve enough to make himself a victim of Cartman's bullying. And I like Butters, you know? I can't just let him get antagonized on my own friend's behalf. I was always around Cartman anyway; it was just a matter of time before I started defending Butters. Right?

Yeah, I thought so.

He appreciates it too, I can tell. He'll invite me over every weekend, and he lets me talk to him when I'm having issues. When my parents fight or I get kicked out, I'm always welcome to crash at his place. And when I do, he makes me breakfast in the morning. It's really nice.

Especially because of how much I like spending time with him.

When he enters the library all flushed and shit, I feel myself grin. Involuntarily. Is that what happens when you like a person? They just… make you smile? I wouldn't know.

"Hiya Ken!" He greets. "Boy, it sure is hot out today. Kyle wasn't kidding when he said the library was n-nice and cool!"

"I know," I reply as he sits next to me. "I've been skipping classes all day just to sit in here. Can't believe they expect us to learn in this heat."

Butters shakes his head; I know he doesn't approve of my borderline truant-like habits. But come on. It's like ninety five degrees out. I'm not fucking accustomed to it.

"You know you shouldn't do that, Kenny – what if s-someone catches you!"

So naïve. I ruffle his hair. "I doubt anyone notices, Buttercup." Buttercup. It's almost like a pet name. "If anything they probably assume I'm dead for the day."

I'm pretty sure that Butters doesn't like it when I joke about my consistent dying, like how Stan's bothered when Kyle refers to his health so casually. But come on; why not make the best of a bad situation? Crying about your problems sure as hell doesn't make them go away.

I feel Butters shiver next to me, and I casually wrap an arm around him. In a friendly way. I do this all the time. It isn't romantic. Really.

"Cold?" I assume.

"A… a little," He answers sheepishly, and I pull him closer.

Then I feel myself wishing the librarian would point a few more fans in our direction.

MEH THIS WAS ALRIGHT. I'M TOO HOT TO THINK. OR LIVE.