McCormick: Based On A True Story Part 1
I have decided to divide this into two parts, it being very, *very* long. First, a warning. This is the most dramatic South Park-related thing that has happened since "Kenny's In Love" and "Unusual Suspects" (for 'Unusual Suspects', one of the best 'fics I've ever seen, read Snow's fanfic page). Forgive the soap opera-esque story, but I had to make it this way. It just wouldn't fit otherwise. If you need South Park to be hilarious all the time, don't read this. For the rest of you, enjoy! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- 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 mmomph." 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- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Kenny: Hold it, hold it. What is this crap?
Me: Will you be quiet? I'm trying to tell you a story!
Kenny: What the hell are you trying to do, kill me?
Me: Why not? You'd just come back next Wednesday.
Kenny: Let's not start that.
Me: Look, I couldn't make this funny all the way through. It just wouldn't work.
Kenny: That doesn't mean you have to make me puke with this over-dramatic sh*t.
Me: Kenny?
Kenny: Yeah?
Me: F*ck off. (Note to Snow: No, I did NOT steal this from the mountain-climbers' conversation in 'Kenny's In Love') -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- 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. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Kenny: I do too!
Me: Then describe.
Kenny: Well, uh...
Me: That's what I thought. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- 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. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Kenny: OK, I'm leaving. This has to be the biggest piece of sh*t I have *ever* heard, and I am not going to sit around and listen to it. (tries to get up to find he is glued to the chair)
Me: (grins evily) Sorry, but I need an audience. Now just sit back and listen, and later we can all watch some TV.
Kenny: You evil bitch! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Kenny was lower class. Not 'tighten our belts until daddy gets the new job' lower class. More like the 'forget buying a can opener, can't even afford a free meal' lower class. It was a wonder his dad still owned the house, with all the money he spent on Scotch. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Kenny: Did Cartman co-write this story or what? -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- The rare occasions his father was sober, he was trying to become the opposite. Pervert, drunkard, and foulmouth, Mr. McCormick had raised Kenny as a direct copy of him. His mother, on the other hand, was more right in the head, it seemed. 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. 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." (Author's Note: From Websters, got it on a whim for this story) "Yes, that pretty much sums it up." She looked slightly nervous, Kenny noticed. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Kenny: So blah de blah de blah, Luke I am your father, we all eat Cheesy Poofs, I die, and the rest of them go home.
Me: Listen, one more outburst from you and I'll start telling this to the wall with you smashed into it! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- "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 pulled out a slip of paper from the the small pile of assorted things that they could afford. "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." (Author's Note: I did *not* make this up) 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. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Me: Well? How do you like it so far?
Kenny: You have too much time on your hands.
Me: I know, isn't it great?! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- "What do you mean you can't trace the handrwiting?! You can't give the slightest detail about this person? What am I paying you good money for?" "Child, I *can* read this. But the truth is, I do not know what it means. This script, it is so perfect it is not human!" spoke the fortune teller Madame Marguerette, her thick accent on the borderline between French and Spanish. "Look, forget it. Just forget it. Give me back the money." Kenny was close to giving up hope. "No refunds." the woman said quickly. "Bitch." Kenny muttered, as he took the note and left. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Me: Ok, this is where the others come in.
Kenny: Why?! Do you not like *me*?! Is there something wrong with *me*?!
Me: No, no, it's just not really good without Cartman acting like an ass.
Kenny: Oh. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- 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 f*ckin' 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 and began. "Well, we were all hanging out at the bus stop...and then Mephesto 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. The whole thing had flown over his head. Kenny was sick and f*cking 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 sh*t 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: You realize people are either going to love this or hate this, don't you?
Me: Yeah.
Kenny: And you realize that I hate it, don't you?
Me: Yeah.
Kenny: (getting pissed off) So why the f*ck are you torturing me with it?!
Me: (grins) I'm a sadist.
Kenny: Goddamnit! Let me out of here!
Me: Not until I'm done with the story.
(Kenny eyes a gun lying on a small table close to him) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- 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. He read the writing: "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: What the hell was that supposed to be?
Me: Something to pay attention to, Mr. Critic, now shut the hell up!
Kenny: Face it, I'm the only comic relief you've *got*!
Me: True, but it's becoming a one-trick show. Why don't you do something else?
Kenny: If you pass me that gun on the table, I will.
Me: (mockingly) Everyone knows that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.
Kenny: (praying) Jesus, if you can hear me all the way over in South Park, please save me! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- 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. F*ck 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 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. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------- Kenny: Trey? Matt? Ms. CARTMAN?!
Me: This is where it gets interesting. You see, once you figured out what to do to complete your quest, I had to have some other conflict for you. So you'll be seeing a lot of Trey and Matt, not to mention what they have in store for you.
Kenny: And if Trey and Matt are lurking at the newsgroup?
Me: They'll probably hate the whole damn thing, but I don't give two sh*ts. I've been working on this story for over a month, and I'm not gonna stop now.
Kenny: I see a definate relationship to the story of 'The Truman Show' in this story.
Me: Well, maybe it's like that a little. But this is better.
Kenny: Suit yourself. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------
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 f*ckin' *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.
Where will McCormick go Through rain, or sleet, or snow? What will be his fate? Will it be too late? And what of the other three? Just what *will* they do for Kenny? What of Trey, Matt, and Deanne? Will they succeed in their plan? Will Kenny sit through my whole story or will the pistol make it gory? As for identity and fate for Part 2, you'll just have to wait. My poetry is usually better but I'm really not trying right now. Oh well, that last line didn't rhyme. Who cares?
TO BE CONTINUED
If you comment on this story (and I would like to personally request that I get at least a few opinions, expecially from Alyssa, Snow, and Lindsay), I can only say 'Be nice.' If you loved it, if you thought it was mediocre, if you hated every goddamn minute of it, tell me in a *nice* way. Of course, the only people who will flame me will probably be the trolls, and nobody pays any attention to them...
<ducks out of flying tomato range, debates with herself if she should send it for a second, and then, wincing, pushes the button>
-Kim, Queen of All That Is Weird, Youngest Member of alt.tv.southpark (and darn proud of it!) aka Crabtree-Norn "SIDDOWN! We're runnin' late!" "Frankly my dear, she just doesn't give a damn."-Me, on....me. ;)