Ok, I have decided to repost McCormick tonight and the rest of them tomorrow. The other fanfics that I will put up include:
The Blunder Years Pt. 1 and 2 Playing the Game of Revenge Alone (which I didn't mention in my original 'fic post, and is a more recent work, short and *very* depressing)
Note: This fic is almost purely serious, written in story format, and entirely fucked up. If you don't like it, too bad. Reply if you have massive praise or *constructive* criticism. If you are going to flame me or tell me how much it sucked, don't waste your time. I will ignore you. And without further ado, McCormick:
"Here. Leave him here." She sighed. Gods, heh. They seemed more like men, and young men at that. Showing up in the one dream she'd ever had in her infinate lifetime, and telling her to change her child's fate, claiming it was for the better...she didn't know why she trusted them. And now, she was even more reluctant. The house was a hunk of junk, to say the least. Disgusting, dirty, with shattered windows. Yelling came from inside. And this place in itself was strange..she felt like it was not all there, that the third dimension was missing. "Would you want him to live like you do, alone and friendless? Would you want him to grow knowing nothing of friendship, and knowing nobody but yourself? Or would you want to leave him here, where, and this we assure you, he will know friendship and he will know of others..many others. His immortality will be ignored, stranger things have happened in this place. His deaths will be looked on as common occurance. And he will do things one could only imagine. Leave him here," whispered the voice. It was the blonde one, she recognized, who seemed to be the spokesperson of the duo, though she assumed most of what he said was supplied by his friend, the one who seemed even more sane. With a sigh, she set the baby down on the porch of the house, and knocked on the door. Hurriedly dropping the note in the makeshift basket that held the child, she ran from the house. She kept running until she suddenly and mysteriously found herself back at her cabin. Somehow, she felt as though she had completed something, something that would change thousands of histories. All by giving up one child, the only one she would ever be graced with, the only one to carry on the immortal lineage. She said a silent prayer for him, and hardly thought of him again. As for the boy's future parents.. "Stuart, come see what God has blessed us with!" Peggy picked up the basket, eyeing the note for a moment. "What a strange thing..and why would someone leave a child here, of all places?" She looked at the small boy, clad entirely in an orange parka. It covered his entire face, so that she could see nothing but his eyes...
McCormick: Based on a True Story
Pt. 1: Identity Crisis
Your reality, sir, is lies and balderdash and I'm delighted to say that I have no grasp of it whatsoever.-Baron Munchausen, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen
"I've been searching my soul tonight I know there's so much more to life Now I know I can shine the light To find my way back home..."-Vonda Shepard, "Searchin' My Soul"
The main street of South Park was unusually still, or so it seemed, the road filled with only a few stray dogs and the occasional nameless face. Kyle Broflofski peeked his head out from behind the corner of Tom's Rhinoplasty. He strained his eyes, and spotted a small figure, tightly wrapped in a hooded parka a color of orange so bright it was almost blinding in the bright sunlight. In his excitment, he forgot to be quiet. "I think I see him!" Stan Marsh clapped a mitten-clad hand over Kyle's mouth. "Shutup!" he hissed. "Do you want to make him hear you?!" "I can't help it." Kyle said, his voice a little softer. "For the first time ever, we'll get to see his face!" "Yeah, it'll be sweet, dude!" piped up Eric Cartman (called Cartman as a general rule), who was crouched behind a trash can, the closest to the sidewalk. He had an important part in the plan. It needed bulk, and he was one for bulk. "This is it, guys. These are the last few moments we'll have to live in the dark... " Stan trailed off, as he pictured what he was about to do. Ever since he had moved to South Park, about 2 or 3 years ago, he had been best friends with this kid. And now he was about to do the unspeakable to him, to learn, after all this time, to a part of the mysteries that enfolded the kid as tightly as his parka. "Here he comes!" whispered Kyle. "Wait for it..wait for it..." Kyle felt little guilt, if any, at what he was about to do. It was his idea in the first place, in fact. He was always the neurotic one, the one with the low willpower, and he couldn't live another day with the mystery. Cartman had been quick to agree, and Stan reluctantly followed. "NOW!" Kyle shouted, as Kenny McCormick came to the corner of the alley. Cartman slammed into Kenny with full force, pinning him down in a way so he lay on top of him. This would get a couple of comments about his sexuality, he knew, but he didn't give a damn. It was an honor to get this sort of status in this sort of thing. "He's down, guys." Kenny scanned the faces, from Stan to Kyle to the blubber of Cartman that held him down, as he struggled to get free. "What the-you guys...what?!" Of course, this came out sounding like "Mmmph rmmmph mm mmph." But that was to be expected. "We couldn't take it dude. Sorry.." Stan stood at Kenny's front, by his head. Kyle blew a shrill whistle on his fingers. From behind corners came the local police officer of South Park, Officer Barbrady, the Chef of the elementary school cafeteria, the guidance councellor of the said school, Mr.Mackey, and others, all ending with the Mayor of the town. She had wanted to bring TV cameras, of course, but Stan had refused. This was enough. "Yeah.." Cartman's voice was unusually solumn. "I'm sorry, Kenny, but..we have to see." As Stan bent down, the realization dawned on Kenny. They were going to- Stan removed the hood of Kenny's parka with a flourish, and was met with gasps. He flinched. Bending down, he glanced at Kenny's unmasked face, and let out a single word, that said it all. "Damn." "What is it? What do I look like?!" Even Kenny didn't know. Kyle could barely tear himself away from the horrible sight, but he managed, somehow. "Put it back on, Stan." "No! Show me! I can take it!" "We can't, dude." Stan began to replace the hood, but was met by Kenny's small struggles, all he could manage under Cartman's immense weight. "Show me, goddamnit! Show me, show me!"
"Show-thank God..." It had only been a dream. Kenny sighed with relief, but he began to consider something. He had been dying weekly since he was born, to be ressurected the next week by an unknown cause, and he had never seen his own face. Not to mention that this was the 3rd dream he had had without X-rated material. And, for the first time in his life, this seemed strange to him.
~~~~ If you were to look into the McCormick home, you would first notice the front lawn. Beer bottles, tires, bits of paper, and God-knows-what else, litter the snow. Turning your eyes upward, you would see what is, to be blunt, a shack. A tiny, basic wood thing that can barely house the family of four, not counting the dozens of drinking buddies that Mr. McCormick brought home each night. A typical day in the house consisted of 20 emptied beer bottles and fights so loud they would create an earthquake. Mr. McCormick was a drunk to boot. Every other word out of his mouth was foul, and he had every issue of Playboy since 1983. In his sons, especially Kenny, he had planted a seed that would slowly create a carbon copy of the life he led. His mother, on the other hand, was more right in the head. She had always been concerned more with those she cared about rather than material posessions. Hot-tempered, but kind at heart, she was the glue that held the family by a few dangling threads, and her version of values, though not evident, were hidden in Kenny, and were occasionally, briefly, released. Perhaps this was what kept his intelligence and sense of honor alive. Kenny had learned that if there was one person to ask a question, it was her. "Mom?" "Yes?" Kenny took a deep breath, and tried to phrase the words, tried to sort out the questions that were flying through his mind. He asked in the best way he could. "Mom, I know my name. I know my family, and my home. And I know my friends. But that's not enough." "What do you mean, son?" Mrs. McCormick was wearing her "I'm With Stupid" shirt. Kenny was on her right, while the shirt pointed to her left. He supposed that was a good sign. "There are these..these mysteries. I mean, did you notice that I was dead on Thanksgiving?" "Yes, we missed you that week, we so wanted you to celebrate Thanksgiving with us. But we were all together on Christmas." "Death:" Kenny recited. " a permanent cessation of all vital functions : the end of life." "Yes, that pretty much sums it up." Her eyes held a small shred of emotion that he couldn't quite interpret. Fear? "So I'm dead..but then I come back. It's not permanent. It's not the end, not the *real* end. And do you realize that I look in the mirror and I've never seen my own face?" Mrs. McCormick sighed, and reached into her pocket, pulling out a slip of yellowed paper that he had never seen before. "I think it's time I showed you something..." She paused. "You see, Kenny...you're not our son." If you could have seen Kenny's mouth, it would have dropped about 4 feet to the floor. "What? What are you talking about?!" "We found you on our doorstep. You were about a year old, and in a smaller version of that parka you're wearing now. We never saw you out of it, in fact. The thing just sort of..grew with you." Kenny scratched out 'appearance' on his mental checklist of things he would try to find out. But now there was a new mystery to solve: lineage. "Was there a note? A photo? Anything?! Is Kenny even my real *name*?" "All we found was this." Mrs. McCormick handed the slip of paper to Kenny, which looked to be a note, written in flowing script:
To Whoever May Live Here, Please take care of my child. You will find his qualities unusual, to say the least, but do not be alarmed by them. Give him the most good and loving home you are able to give, and make him grow to be kind, brave, and strong of heart. I have a feeling he is to do great things in the world, and he is to do them here.
"She never even named you, not to mention signed the note. But we named you Kenny, which means.." She paused for a second. "Means what?" "Well..it means handsome." She was blushing, realizing the obvious irony and stupidity of this. "Let me get this straight. My face has never been seen..by anyone, mind you, not even myself..and my name means *handsome*?!" Kenny fumed for a second, then paused, and continued. "Look, never mind that. There has to be something I can do, some way I can find my family." "But there's *no* way. There's no evidence, no signature, no clues." "I'll find some. I'll die for *good* searching if I have to. Goodbye," he paused, and gazed at her. "*Mom*!" Kenny opened the door to the house, stepped out, and slammed it behind him. It fell off it's hinges.
~~~~
Kenny regretted coming to his friends from the start. Even serious issues seemed to have an aura of hilarity in South Park, and with Stan, Kyle, and Cartman especially, this was no exception. "Dude, what's up? You look down." said Stan, not realizing that the way he placed the words in this sentance was slightly humerous. Kyle, however, did, and grinned to himself as he said "Yeah, you've been depressed all day." "Nothing's up, guys. I'm fine. Really." Kenny said for what seemed to him like the 40th time. He turned his attention back to the TV. The four were perched on the couch at Stan's house, watching the boob tube. Terrance and Phillip had just finished, and Stan flipped through the channels. He stopped on a channel that was just finishing a commercial break. "And now back to 'Midnight Morning', starring Eric Roberts." blared the TV. The scene opened up to a couple being chased through a field. Suddenly, a shot rang out. The woman fell to the ground, a bullet in her neck. The man, Roberts, dropped to his knees and tried to urge her up. Roberts had, as usual, ruined the story with his poor acting talent. He began the usual tirade of poorly-said laments. "Oh Marie, I'll do anything, if you will only return to this world again! Why is fate so cruel? Why does God take the lives of such souls as us? Why does he cause such pain?! Why must we go through our entire lives only to have them end so suddenly?" Cartman yawned. "Bo-ring." "Yeah." agreed Kyle. "Change it." That's when they heard a small, choking, muffled sob. Kyle turned his head to Cartman, who shook his head, giving a 'wasn't me' look. Stan also shook his head. All three in unison turned to glance at Kenny. He, gazing at Roberts lamenting, over death, of all things, was trying to hide his near-hysterics. The three exchanged glances, and nodded to themselves. Stan hopped off the couch, and turned to face Kenny. "Ok, that's it. No more chit-chat. What's wrong with you?" Kenny tried to quickly wipe away the tears, and stop the quavering in his voice, as he said "Nothing! Just f*ckin' leave me alone!" "Dude, when you cry over *death*, something's wrong." said Kyle. "And I want to know what it is." "Yeah, we're your friends. You can tell us." Stan considered this statement for a second and then added, "Except for Cartman." "Ay!" Kenny shook his head. "You wouldn't understand." "Just tell us, already!" shouted Cartman. "I want to get back to watching TV!" Kenny glared at Cartman, and then turned back to Stan and Kyle. "It's too complicated to explain. I guess you can just call it 'identity crisis'." "What do you mean?" Kyle pressed. Kenny paused. "Cartman, what do I look like?" "Huh?" asked Cartman. "You heard me, fat boy. Answer the question." "Uh, well, you're..small. And thin, because you're family's so damn poor-ow!" he shouted, as Kenny smacked him. "One more comment like that, and someone *else* is gonna die." said Kenny, through gritted teeth. "Ay! You son of a-" "I'm not in the mood for this right now, answer the question!" Kenny shouted. "Uh..well..your face is sorta shaped like a lemon....and there's this big orange hood-thingie that hides the rest.." "Exactly." said Kenny. "Now, Stan, tell me exactly what happened to me last week." Stan looked at Kenny quizically, but remembered his reaction to Cartman anc began. "Well, we were all hanging out at the bus stop...and then the evil-scientist guy created those monster-bird things..and one of them pecked you to death-" "Right. Now, Kyle, read this." Kenny handed Kyle a copy of the note his true mother had written. Kyle mumbled as he scanned the letter. "Take care of my kid, brave, kind, strong of heart, do great things, what is this crap?" "The one clue I have to who I am." Kenny said quietly. "Oh, I get it now!" said Stan. "Dude, that's really sad..." "What the hell are you all talking about?" asked Cartman. "It'd better be worth our time, parka-boy; COPS is starting in 3 minutes!" Kenny was sick and tired of it all. He grabbed Cartman by his shirt, fire in his eyes. "Let me put it in terms of food, so the fatass can understand it. I've been spoon-fed liquid crap all my life. And now, I finally have a chance to live on solids. But I can't find the grocery store." "You wouldn't be able to buy anything, Kenny, your father is so poor-" "He's not my *father*!!" Kenny screamed. Everything went silent for a moment. Kenny slowly dropped Cartman to the ground. "Look," he said. "Screw this. Screw you, screw all of you. I've got to be alone for a while.." Kenny McCormick knew what he had to do. He had to find his family. He had to find where he belonged. "Goodbye." he muttered to his friends, as he stepped out the door of the house, and into the night.
~~~~
Kenny couldn't just go back home after he had walked out on his mother, but he had no money for a hotel room. Sighing at his own stupidity, clutching the precious note to his chest, he headed over towards Stark's Pond. The moonlight was beautiful, reflecting on the water's surface. Kenny gazed at his ripping reflection, feeling as if he was going to cry. He fiercly told himself to pull himself together. If he wanted to find out anything, he wouldn't do it sitting around. He would start out tomorrow, but now he needed rest. He slipped onto a bench near the pond and, shivering with cold, went to sleep.
Eyes gazed at him from all directions as he flew through a strange vortex of sorts. He knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't manage to wake up. Besides, a dream was what had started the whole mess. He resolved to continue. He came foward to face two pairs of eyes, that seemed more..human than the rest. "Turn back." they urged him. "You don't want to learn the truth." The voices sounded oddly familiar. Kenny knew them, but he couldn't place them. All he felt was a strong connection towards them. He gazed at them defiantly, and continued foward. He suddenly saw ahead of him an old-fashioned quill pen, writing in gold calligraphy. The writing read: "As Kenny continued through the vortex, he came across the pen that wrote his own story. He read the words, hoping to find the future, but only until he continued on would the rest be written. Seeing the pen scribe this, he pushed foward." And push foward Kenny did indeed. "Kenny, go. Find your fate. Find who you are. And learn where you belong." spoke an unknown voice suddenly. A hand formed out of nowhere and gave Kenny a piece of parchment. "If you read it, you will find her." the voice whispered. "Find who? Read what?" The voice repeated again, "If you read it, you will find her." "What are you *talking* about?!" "Read the paper, and you'll find your mom, genius! What the hell do you think?! The guy in Field of Dreams knew what I was talking about! Now beat it!" And suddenly Kenny was spinning through the vortex, leaving the dream as quickly as he had come into it.
When he awoke, the parchment was still with him
~~~~ . Kenny gazed at the aged piece of paper in the morning light. Nothing was on it. But why had it followed him out of his dreams? Suddenly, words began to appear.
Before the truth comes to your eyes McCormick, you must say goodbye.
He sighed. He had to do what the instructions said, he knew, but he couldn't face his mother again, not to mention his friends. He couldn't explain the way he had acted, not now, not in person. But through the written word... '"To My Friends, Adoped Family, and Cartman," he muttered to himself. "Yeah, that's a good beginning..."
~~~~
"I have written this to tell you that I will be gone for quite a while, perhaps forever. Will I return? Who can say? My quest is obviously a matter of fate. Knowing your previous reactions, you most likely cannot possibly grasp the meaning of this journey. It is a search for identity, and place of being. All I truely can sort out in my mixed feelings is that I cannot stay here a day longer. Screw you all, Kenny." Stan finished. "Woah, dude!" "Since when did Kenny talk like Socrates?" asked Kyle. He sighed. "I hope he finds what he's looking for." Cartman, however, was not so sentimental. "This whole thing sucks. Now the only person I have to pick on is Jew-boy." "I figured an insensitive cretin like you would be *happy*, Cartman." said Stan bitterly. Stan and Kenny had been kind of close, actually. Stan was the most normal, Kenny was the weirdest, and opposites attracted. Stan was a closer friend to Kyle, but he was affected by Kenny's disappearance most of all. "Look dude, it's bad, I know, but what can we do?" Kyle tried to calm his worried friend. "I know what *I'm* going to do. But the question is, are you guys going to help me?"
~~~~
"Are you absolutely *sure* about this?" questioned Deanne Cartman again. "We know what we're doing. Just follow our instructions, and nothing will go wrong." Deanne gazed at the men. She didn't quite understand why they were so intent on looking for that little boy, Kenny, but she *did* know, somehow, that it wasn't wise to question them. And the blonde one, she noted, was kind of cute. "But he's just a boy! Can I really-" "Don't argue. We made you, and we can break you just as easily. Kenny McCormick can't leave South Park. He's too valuable to us." "He's already gone." she said, half-muttering. "And you're luring him back." Trey Parker and Matt Stone were too busy making arrangments to get Kenny back, they didn't realize that Stan, Kyle, and Cartman had already left to find him.
~~~~
To find the truth that you do seek find the point where you're most weak.
Kenny smirked. "Luck." he replied instantly. "Next!" There was a pause, and words began forming on the parchment again.
This weak point you must embrace And your starting point you will face.
"I guess that means that I wind up getting killed." Kenny said, sighing. After looking around and seeing nobody in sight, he picked up a sharp, pointed stick, and dropped it to the ground with the pointed end in the air. With Kenny's luck, of course, the stick sprang up and caught him square in the heart. Three pairs of eyes watched his suicide from the bushes in the distance. "Oh, great, how are we supposed to follow him now?" asked a child-like voice. "I still don't know how you guys talked me into this." said a voice that sounded unique, to say the least. "Damnit, Cartman, you want him to hear you?!" whispered a higher voice loudly. "Why not, he's '*dying*, Kyle!" As Kenny closed his eyes and died, Stan fiercly whispered "Oh my God! They killed Kenny!" "You bastards!" followed Kyle. He turned to Stan and muttered "Isn't tradition wonderful?" Suddenly Kenny's fallen body began to glow. Around him, the air rippled. The three boys watched in awe as Kenny's body was sucked into the vortex, leaving no trace of him. "Hurry, before it closes!" shouted Stan, leaping towards the portal. Cartman muttered something, and tried to follow, but was so obese he could barely run. Kyle pushed him foward with great effort, and quickly followed, just as the portal closed behind him.