South Park © Matt & Trey.

Kenny's POV

Destiny is a bitch. She's got your entire life predetermined. Sure, kid, it may feel like you're the one in control, but that's what she wants you to think. She's sly like that. She knows you. She knows you better than you know yourself and you are her favorite play things. She is the puppet master and you are the doll on strings. She waves you around on that little stage called life and she loves it. She loves you all too, her favorite toys. Unfortunately, she was never one to take good care of her things. You know war, famine, pestilence, and death? "Look at all my little darlings," Destiny will say, and with that, it is time for a new game. It may be a story of a brutal ending, or maybe a story of a beautiful beginning… Then again, what's stopping it from being both?

People have always called me out, saying I know things. I guess it's true. I know a lot, however there are some things that even I, Kenny McCormick, am unaware of.

What am I?

Why am I here?

What is my purpose?

These are questions I am constantly asking myself and their answers still remain unknown.

Maybe Destiny has a plan for me as well… or maybe she's too busy laughing in my face.

Yesterday was fairly ordinary.

I woke up late, I got dressed, and managed to slip out the door unnoticed by my parents.

No breakfast.

No shower either. We have no hot water left and I hate cold showers. They hurt.

I took the long way to Craig's. The safe way. And when I left, I told him I'd see him later on that night.

But on my way home I didn't take the safe way. I took the path, which is half as short. I took the path, where I had to walk across a set of train tracks. Usually I would avoid this path for obvious reasons, but I was lazy and decided it would be okay to take this shortcut just once.

A watch pot never boils. Isn't that the old saying? I assumed that by expecting something bad to happen, I might have been able to avoid it.

Apparently that saying isn't always true because as I was crossing the final set of tracks one of my pant legs got hooked on a loose railway spike.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I screamed as I coincidentally heard the engine of a train coming my way, struggling to untie my shoes and take off my jeans so I could escape unscathed.

I don't know why I even tried. Of course, I should have known it wouldn't do me any good. In my case, the watch pots always boil, no matter how unlikely. So rather than allow the train to take my foot off, I just jumped in front of it. Shit, it was painful… Well, that's an understatement, but it's better just to die than lose my foot.

It's funny. Sometimes you can grow so accustomed to something that your body has it memorized even better than your mind. Each time I die, it feels so disgustingly familiar and I'll realize that it's just another ordinary evening.

I don't die as much as I used to when I was a kid, but even once a week is too often and the feeling is still there - that familiarity.

When I woke up in my bed after an annoying trip down under, I went to the party I told Craig I'd see him at. I went to a party because it's summer, and summer means parties, which means drinking, which means sex and hangovers. All the fun stuff that Kenny McCormick is all about.

So I went to that party, and I drank quite a lot at that party.

Token, Nichole, Clyde, Bebe… Everyone from Craig's old gang was there.

Well. Except Tweek.

Bebe had noticed. I think everyone else had too, but they were too scared to say anything. Bebe is fearless.

"Where's Tweek?" she had asked, sounding genuinely curious and even a little worried.

"Bebe, Tweek is…" I trailed off when Craig gave me an angry look. "Never mind," I sighed. "Another time."

And she understood. She didn't pry further, but Craig still looked like he had a metal rod up his ass for the rest of the night.

I got ridiculously drunk in an attempt to escape his wrath and he dragged me back to his place before I could go do anything too stupid. I guess that's what friends are for.

He made me drink a couple glasses of water, and then we fell asleep. But it's morning now, and you can see the sun peeking through the window behind the curtains.

"Craig?" I ask into the dim room.

No reply.

"Craig, you fucking faggot, I know you're awake so stop pretending to be asleep," I growl.

"How'd you know?" he asks sounding tired, and annoyed.

"Your breathing pattern changed."

"Hm," he mumbles. "Weirdo. Only you notice shit like that."

"You know, I died on my way home from your house yesterday," I say mildly, rolling around in his bed.

"Good," he grunts, "and stop that, you're shaking the fucking bed and it's pissing me off."

I make a face at him. "You're an asshole."

"Whatever."

"So who were yah with last night before dragging me back here?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says. "Some girl."

"Did you fuck her?"

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly. He stands up and stretches before sitting back on the edge of his bed.

"Was she good?" I ask, crawling out from under the blankets and standing in front of him.

"I don't fucking know, Jesus Christ, you're annoying."

"Was she better than me?" I grin, sinking to my knees and unbuttoning his jeans. I guess he hadn't bothered changing out of his day clothes when we arrived back here last night.

Crag snorts. "You know," he starts, "this is the only thing you're good for, McCormick."

Ah, fuck. It hurts when he says shit like that, but I wouldn't let him know it. It isn't like he'd really care anyway. So I force a chuckle, I wrap my hands around his already hard dick, licking the shaft slowly and reveling in the annoyed sounds he makes.

"McCormick, don't fucking tease," he warns, roughly grabbing a handful of my hair.

I smile to myself, "Sorry, sorry." I jerk his dick a few times before taking the entire length into my mouth.

So, don't get me wrong, Craig isn't some evil guy, he's just incredibly emotionally stunted, a bit of a bastard, and well, a bunch of other things. I guess it's difficult to describe someone you know as well as I know Craig. Maybe it can't be done.

Oh well, in the end, Craig has my back. He's saved my sorry ass more times than I can count. I guess you could say this is how I reward him? Usually it happens in a similar fashion: I get drunk, I get stupid, and I get myself into trouble I can't handle. Craig shows up in the nick of time, looking like my fuckin' knight in shining armor or some shit. He takes me back to his place, where I pass out, and when I wake up he is his usual bitter self. "You're gonna get yourself in serious shit one of these days," he'll often say, trying not to sound too concerned. I usually tell him something along the lines of, "I die all the time, what would be worse?" We exchange a few more words, and then I give him a treat.

I don't know the exact reason it keeps happening, but it does.

When we were twelve we lost our virginity to the same girl. I guess it was somewhat of a threesome? Either way, Craig whined about how gay the whole experience was after it was all over. I guess he was still stuck in that phase where he was uncomfortable about the possibility of his sexuality being something other than straight. For me, it was different. I had realized that I'd rather it had just been me and Craig. I caught myself watching him rather than the girl, and I caught myself thinking about him the next time I jerked off. So two years later I made it happen…

I don't remember exactly how it went down the first time. We were fourteen and I guess we were both pretty wasted, not that that's anything new and shocking.

It happened the way I knew it would. A bit of alcohol, and soon we were rocking against each other in an embarrassingly desperate frenzy. I had half expected him to suddenly push me away and jump back, but I guess the friction between our clothed bodies was probably enough to make him forget it was me he was doing it with.

My fingers were shaking with anticipation as I fumbled with the button on his jeans. After I was finished with the button, I pulled the zipper down easily.

He reached forward, experimentally at first. He hadn't touched another dude before then, and he'd never admit it but he was probably nervous.

Next thing I knew I was jumping up and down on his lap, riding his dick like an energized porn star. I guess you could say I really wanted it to happen, but I wasn't a pretty face with a sweet pair of titties. I kind of lack both of those things, so at first I wasn't sure why Craig continued to fuck around with me. I suppose it was convenient. We had agreed a long time ago that it was going to be an emotionless no-strings-attached kind of thing. All I am is a hole, he's even admit it. Maybe it was his way of admitting he wasn't straight.

The words were: "Male, female, it doesn't matter as long as they've got a hole."

"Ouch," I said in a mock-hurt tone. "Is that all I am to you?"

"Yup," he replied nonchalantly.

Maybe that's why we've never kissed. Isn't that strange? We've been fucking around like this for years and we've never kissed. Craig Tucker doesn't kiss just anyone. I'm not special enough. Heh.

Then again, maybe it's because Craig Tucker is in love.

I tilt my head upward and see his lips part as his brow furrows. His eyes are shut and he's probably pretending someone else is on their knees in front of him.

Seconds later, he releases into my mouth without warning, causing me to jump away slightly.

I feel my eyebrows draw together as I harshly swallow and lick the corners of my mouth. "Fuck, a warning would be nice next time, asshole!" I growl once the mess is gone from my face.

He just grunts, zipping his jeans back up. "Who said there would be a next time?"

"Oh, please," I laugh, standing up, "Like you could stay away. It's been five years since we've started playing this game, so admit it,Tucker, I'm the best piece of ass you've ever had."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a real choice piece," he says dryly.

"Don't try to deny it."

"McCormick, why are you such a fuckin' slut?"

"Watch it, Tucker," I warn. I'm not about to get started on the conventions of that stupid word.

"No, seriously, I wanna know what the fuck kind of trauma you've endured to end up like this."

"I haven't endured any trauma, you dumbass," I mumble.

"Is it because of your dad?"

"No, retard. My dad hits me, he doesn't rape me," I grimace. "Man, you're so fucking dim."

"Well most guys don't voluntarily suck their friends' dicks."

"I don't," I say, "Just yours." I wink, and he rolls his eyes. That piece of information should be enough for him to put two and two together, but no. This is Craig Tucker, the most stubborn asshole I know.

"Yeah, right," he scoffs, "Who else have you given special treatment to? Kyle? Stan? Cartman?"

I scowl, but don't bother answering. Truthfully, I haven't ever gotten funky with any of my best buddies. It'd probably be weird as hell.

"You may as well walk around wearing a sign on your back that says 'I like taking big dicks up my ass.'"

"Ha," I laugh, "You're not that big."

"Bigger than you."

"Not by much."

He smirks briefly, "By much."

I roll my eyes. "Why are you being such an angsty bastard lately, anyway?" I ask.

"I'm always a bastard."

"Sure, that's true," I chuckle at the fact that his dignity allowed him to admit it, "but you're ten times worse lately. Why?"

He doesn't answer the question.

"Don't brood, it really doesn't suit you."

"Shut up," he mumbles.

"God damn, Craig, don't be so emo," I laugh, "this isn't 2007. Emo isn't cool."

"Fag."

"Fine," I relent, "I'm going home. See you later."

When I turn to leave I notice the empty guinea pig cage on the desk near the door.

Ah… So another one bit the dust.

I don't say anything before exiting the Tucker residence. He'd only get even more pissy if I brought it up.

As soon as I step outside I feel a rush of pleasantly cool air.

Yeah, summer is here. You can feel it.

Kevin got away, if you can believe it. Kevin McCormick got away. Part of me still doesn't quite believe it. I had always thought it was impossible. The people who grow up in South Park always come up back in the end; however maybe this time it'll be different. Maybe they'll be able to stay far away. I really hope so.

I remember the day it happened, he looked at me and said, "Ken, I'm leaving."

I only nodded, before saying, "Take Karen with you."

And, thank fuck, he did.

I always told Karen, "Be better than me," but I think it was hard, living in a place like South Park. I was such a little shit. I guess I still kind of am. I wasn't a good role model and I didn't want her to end up like me.

We're all pretty fucked up around here, and sure, some have it worse, but every single kid in South Park is fucked up no matter how hard they try to pretend they're not. Even I'm guilty of trying to pretend I'm normal, but who the fucking hell am I kidding? I might be the least normal of us all, with my constant trips to hell.

South Park isn't a place for people weak in mind, and I may be the weakest one here.

Sometimes I think the town is simply cursed. It would best explain things. It'd explain why so many tourists end up high-tailing it out of here, screaming. It'd explain why all the celebrities want to sue the town. It'd explain why the cops don't know shit. It'd explain why Cartman can get away with murder. It'd explain why every supernatural entity tends to flock here and screw things up. It'd explain why certain adults could get away with worshipping a certain dark lord who, in turn, made their kid a fuckin' immortal! It'd explain why everyone else's parents seem to care too much about the stupidest things, while mine don't care enough. It'd explain why my parents can get away with selling drugs why my dad can keep beating the shit out of me. It'd explain why we're all so goddamn fucked up in the head. Yeah… It would explain a whole lot. But then again, maybe I'm just blaming the town just for the sake of it. Maybe it really is just us.

For a long time Wendy and Stan were happily dating, while Cartman continued to unremorsefully manipulate girls into having sex with him. I guess it's easier now that he's finally grown into his body. Kyle was happily studying law, not allowing himself to get aroused outside his mind. He always purposely portrayed himself as having somewhat of an asexual vibe. Tweek was doing better and Craig was becoming less of a stubborn asshole. Everything was in place, even if it was wrong. I thought we'd stop making stupid mistakes.

None of this is true anymore. I know that now. Maybe it never really was and maybe it never will be. However, in realizing all of this I feel pretty determined.

Things are rarely the way they seem. I know that the things the guys were doing and the things the guys were feeling were completely out of whack for the longest time, but I refrained from saying anything. They wouldn't have listened even if I did.

I didn't realize they'd find it in themselves to act on what they felt without me having to utter a single word of persuasion, but they did and now they're stuck. However, they won't be stuck for long. I'll help them get through whatever shit they've gotten themselves into even if I can't fix my own messes.

I'm tired of getting the short end of the stick, but it's okay. For now, it's okay.

I feel like my life's gonna end for good pretty soon. It's been a good run, but each day I'm getting closer. Each second I'm getting so much closer. I know I won't last much longer. It could be any day. However, before I'm gone, I want to make a difference in someone's life. I want to become the kind of person people will love and miss and be able to say good things about after I'm gone.

This will be the summer where I'll figure everything out. I'll fix things. I'll fix myself.

I swear I will, even if it kills me… which it very well might.