Enjoy the preslash.

Such a Cute Little Jew

Finally, Kyle threw his pencil down on the table in front of him, fisting his hands in his unruly red locks as he groaned in frustration, "I don't understand what you aren't getting, you-" A string of poorly-pronounced German followed his exclamation, much to a certain Eric T. Cartman (seventh-grader, newly-ex-anti-semitist, hater-of-hyphens)'s delight. Really, Kyle's attempts at German were adorable. Not that he would ever verbalize that thought, heavens no.

"Let's start from the beginning." Eric pleaded both Kyle and the classroom with his best look-at-me-aren't-I-just-nifty-you-should-do-as-I-say voice, absently glaring at their thoroughly amused science teacher, the bastard who originally told Kyle to explain genetics to the bumbling idiots who populate this goddamn hick school. Sometimes it seems like the only ones with any brains are the original South Park Elementary kids, and there are only five in the class-the Infamous Quartet and Craig, and fuck if Eric cared.

He just didn't like it when Kyle got mad at things that weren't him.

Kyle nodded slowly at his new friend-thing, the metal of the swastika around his delicate neck suddenly feeling heavy. The enraged Jew's infuriated flush faded slowly and he took several deep breaths. "Okay."

"Let's go over the vocab." he suggested, addressing the entire class. A disgruntled murmur went up, but it was more or less affirmative.

Kyle dragged a hand over his face. "Shouldn't you know this from last year? Never mind, Mr. Garrison was teaching, wasn't he? Ferdamnt! Why do I even bother?" In truth, Kyle thought genetics was a fascinating subject. Eric was more amused by his further butchering of the German language. "Whatever. Who here knows what an allele is?"

Blank stares. "An allele," Kyle started expectantly, in full teacher-mode, "Is an alternate form of the same gene." Once again he was met with blank stares. Eric his an amused smile at the despondent expression that overtook his Jew's face. "I don't know how to fucking teach!" he hissed under his breath, probably unheard by everyone other than Eric, who was giving his new friend-thing every bit of his attention, and maybe Stan, who was honestly trying -and failing miserably- to listen.

"Kenny and Bebe would have blond-haired, blue-eyed babies!" he burst instead, gaining the bewildered attention of everyone in the room. Kyle offered them a lop-sided grin, marching towards the archaic black board and picking up a piece of chalk. He quickly drew a box with four smaller boxes inside it. Off to the side, he scribbled down BB Bb bb, then drew an arrow to the three options and labeled them Alleles.

"Let's pretend for a second," he pleaded the confused but listening children, "That there are only two hair colors-brunette and blond. If that were the case, you would have three possibilities on your genetic code for the color of your hair-BB, Bb and bb."

He moved back to a blank space and wrote down Pure Bred=Homozygous and Hybrid=Heterozygous, then off to the side, Dominant Gene and Recessive Gene.

The class watched bemusedly as the little redhead went off, explaining everything and taking up both of the chalk board and the dry erase board with notes, observations, tricks, hints, and tips, definitions, a short biography on Gregor Mendel, and a lotof Punnet Squares. Every kid in the room -other than Craig, who fell asleep, and Eric, who was content to just watch his Jew get excited- had very thorough notes and could tell you the difference between a phenotype and a genotype and the process of Meiosis, how incomplete and co-dominance works, the complete history of an Austrian monk and the causes and precautions against mutation.

They could also tell you that Kyle I. Broflovski is certifiably insane.

The longer he went on, the brighter his eyes got, the more dramatic his gestures became, the faster and more excited his speech became, the more big words he used, the more he bounced. Yes, by the time he finished covering the material, he was positively bouncing, bubbly as can be and a giggling mess.

Unfortunately, when Kyle ran out of material before he ran out of time, he stared silently at the boards crammed with knowledge for several long seconds, then turned back to the class and started explaining the consequences of genetic mutations resulting in the genetic code XXY or XYY, then on to speculations on the possibilities of a fully-functional, fertile hermaphrodite ("I'm pretty sure it's impossible." he assured us, ecstatic that everyone was still listening... Or watching him be cute and funny.) and then soon Kyle was so far into his little monologue that not even the teacher was quite sure what he was talking about. For a few minutes, he even seemed to be relating information about a sea slug that stole genetic material from algae and could photosynthesize and what that could mean for solving world hunger.

To be frank, the entire show was the most thoroughly adorable, yet simultaneously informative hour and a half of Eric Cartman's young life.

Kyle glanced at the clock, euphoria making it hard to tell the time correctly. Realizing he only had a minute or so left, he stepped forward, grinning maniacally, and slammed his palms down on the desk of the poor unsuspecting girl who happened to sit front and center, leaning towards the class to demand, with all the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy shop and all the insanity of everyone else in South Park put together, "Isn't it fascinating?"

At that moment, the bell rang, shrill and loud and sudden enough to make Kyle jump almost a foot in the air. Instantly, everyone was gone, except for the teacher, who was staring at Kyle like he was an asylum patient, and Eric, who was taking his sweet time packing up.

Kyle looked positively deflated. Slowly, he took a seat on the desk he had slammed earlier, pouting slightly and staring dejectedly at his knees, knowing that his little outburst would ruin all his chances at new friends. His shoulders slumped. Why was he the only of their foursome incapable of making other friends?

Leisurely, Eric slung his backpack over his shoulder and sauntered confidently up to his favorite Jersey Ginger Jew, arrogant yet somehow kind in a way only he could pull off smirk in place. It took Kyle a mildly depressing amount of time to notice that he wasn't the only one who didn't leave out for lunch and that, yes, as a matter of fact, there was a stubborn ex-neo-Nazi standing a half a foot in front of him.

"Hey Cartman." he murmured after digesting his initial surprise. He still couldn't bring himself to say Eric. The brunette shook his head in slight disappointment. "Hey Kahl."

The silence stretched. Desperately, Eric tried to think of what a friend -a real friend, the kind that could unmaliciously pick on your insecurities, the kind of friend that wore those stupid friendship bracelets and texted each other in class- would do in this situation. Not that they did any if that gay shit, of course not.

'Actually,' a little voice in the back of his head reminded him, or maybe it was the shift of wrought gold against his chest, 'You kinda do wear friendship necklaces.'

Inspired by the physical sign that he was willing to make sacrifices for the sake of his eccentric Jew, he asked hesitantly, "So... Do you think you could explain genetic mutation again? I don't think I really got it, Jewfag."

Like someone pressed play on a magic Jew Remote that he desperately wanted to own, Kyle was instantly reanimated, elatedly explaining both the basics and the complexities of the subject to the teenager who was watching more than listening, thinking absently, Such a cute little Jew!

OoO

Sooo? I had so much fun writing this! I love genetics, if you can't tell, and yes, I actually did that earlier this year.

This chapter's question! What is your favorite sub-genre of science?

Thank you muchly.

QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS? REVIEW!