Hello, people. Does anyone remember me? My name is Kim. I used to write the only serious South Park fics in existance (now I'm pretty much sunk into oblivion save the Trey and Matt messages). Then I stopped and Dan came along (hi Dan!). He wrote some stuff, too. He recently reposted one of his biggest, most serious fics, 'Destiny'. In the opening, he told me to write a sequel to McCormick (my biggest, most serious fic, the one I'm famous for). Well, here's the scoop, Dan. I can't write a sequel to McCormick. McCormick is entirely closed, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. To change anything would ruin it. So I cannot write a sequel. But I did write a series of four monologues. It's kind of a 'where they are now' thing. And this is it. Enjoy.
Note #1: Do not read this if you have not read McCormick, it will make no sense and spoil absolutely everything for you when you *do* read McCormick. If you have not read McCormick, e-mail me and I will be more than happy to send you a copy.
Note #2: Tell me how you liked this, what your favourite monologue was (I prefer Matt's myself), etc. I love praise.
Sometimes I Wonder A Quasi-Sequel to McCormick
Sometimes I wonder what happened to me, all those days ago. It's been almost a year since, and I only remember bits of it, but from what Matt's told me, I was insane. Fuckin' insane. A raging lunatic, bent on finding one boy, killing one boy, keeping one boy locked inside a construction paper prison for my money and the world's amusment. Hell, 'Oh my God! They killed Kenny!' isn't even the biggest part of it anymore. It never really was. It was the boys themselves, the boys who made us laugh until we cried, and the troubles they went through, troubles that reminded us so much of our own childhood, while ripping on everything possible. I see Matt looking at me sometimes, like he doesn't know me anymore. As long ago as it was, those few weeks when I was another person have burned into his brain, and I don't think he trusts me. Not entirely.. Maybe if things had been different..what if things had been different? I wonder..
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we had let it all alone. Let him go and find his mother, his family. Not created such difficulty, such trauma, such a strange memory within him. Would he have stayed with her then? Would South Park have been the same? I've yet to know. Sometimes I think of what happened and start shaking. The fact that so many lives are twisted and changed because of us, because of Elisabeth..it almost makes us seem evil. I don't want to be evil, I never have. Evil is what's embodied in wicked mustachioed villians in silent movies, in cartoon Disney characters who always have one cheesy yet powerful song, and die or are banished somewhere in the end. I'm not dead, and I hope I never grow a mustache, and not once during the course of events that passed a year ago did Trey and I so much as hum a tune. But real evil..true evil..the evil that lies in reality..that evil could very well be what we are. People who destroy and hurt and change lives forever without so much as blinking. In the end, it comes down to the fact that we did that, all of that. And that's why I stare at Trey like I don't even know him. Because I don't. I don't even know myself. Are we evil? Is what we've done these past years evil? I wonder..
Sometimes I wonder where he is. What's he's doing. Are his friends still his friends? Are his 'parents' taking good care of him? Is he happy? Does he look back and miss me, even my memory as a 'dream'? I replay the scene of his abandonment over and over in my mind, re-experiancing each emotion..fear, hope, anger, maternal instinct. If I could go back and do it all over again, he would be with me today. But everything happens for a reason. He was never meant to be here. He would have been lonely. Unhappy. And in the end, it came down to his choice. He made a choice and made the right one. Thank whatever runs this crazy world for that. And thank Trey and Matt. They might as well be his gods. Where are you now, my child? I wonder..
Sometimes I wonder if it was really a dream. It seemed so real, so vivid, so etched in my mind, and it remains that way even now. Every choice was like that of my own. Every word exchanged was like the words I would have said My friends, my family, all painfully in character. And even something so complex as the concept of being fiction, of being written, made painful, perfect sense. Looking back, I miss Elisabeth, and I miss my mother. But most of all, I hate that feeling. That dark, disgusting feeling of *not knowing*. Of hope with nothing to cling to. It was not a dream. But apparently, it wasn't real..or was it? I wonder. Oh God, how I wonder..
-Kim (happy, Dan?)