South Park: Decent to Madness

Part 17: Graffiti (Kyle's POV)

I....can't believe this. No....it couldn't have been a coincidence. He confessed to me, and attempts suicide just a month later...this is all my fault! If I had just payed a little more attention to him...no, not just to him, to Butters as well. I could've prevented all this sadness and suffering! The Stotch family wouldn't have been voted the "most homophobic parents ever." Randy wouldn't be out drinking god knows where, and the school wouldn't be struggling to improve its image. All of this suffering could've been avoided....

I sit on my bed, sobbing hysterically, when there's a knock at the door. I open it to see Kenny standing there, holding a big plastic bag of candies and other random things. "Hey Kyle. I had an idea. We could make care packages for Butters and Stan's families." He said in a bored-sounding voice. I chuckled sadly. "Some Milk Duds and sappy cards aren't going to change the fact that I killed their sons." I said. Kenny looked at me, surprised. "Killed? No, Kyle, you didn't kill them, okay? Stop blaming this on yourself." Kenny said seriously. I laughed. "I DIDN'T kill them? Nope, you're right! Their suicides were totally not a result of my ignorance and stupidity." I said, tears streaming from my face. Kenny simply gave me a blank look. "Look, man, I don't wanna make any stupid care packages, alright? Go away." I said, looking away. Kenny sat down on my desk chair and began pulling stuff out of his plastic bag. He seemed completely ignorant of my current state, and just kept working on the stupid little care packages. I glared at him. "Uh, HELLO, Kenny! Maybe you don't understand what it's like to be horribly depressed and suicidal, so I suggest you take your stuff and just leave." I said angrily. Suddenly, Kenny rose from his seat and tackled me to the ground, holding me down so I couldn't struggle. A look of pure rage crossed his fragile face, and he stared directly into my soul. "Look, Kyle, you're my best friend, and you're the best friend a guy could ask for. But you have absolutely no idea what it's like to be depressed. You have never been so depressed that you have welcomed the idea of death. So stop playing the victim and get the fuck over yourself." Kenny demanded. I was terrified. Where was this sudden burst of energy coming from? Why were all my friends acting so weird? "Ok, ok, I'm sorry! It won't happen again, I promise. Please get off of me!" I yelped. Kenny's face softened and he continued working on the care packages.

"Kenny, why has everyone been acting so weird lately?" I ask him.

"I don't know, Kyle. It's like we're all starting on a descent to madness." Kenny replied. "Maybe a couple boxes of Skittles won't help much. But it'll let their families know that there's some sanity left in us." He said. I nodded.

"You know what, you've got a point. Can I make one?" I asked.

We worked in silence, finishing up the care packages with red ribbons and white roses. As we set of for Stan's house, Kenny pulled out a spray can. "I have an idea." He said. "I'll show everyone that there's still some sanity left." I looked at him. "By defacing public property?" I asked. "Seems a little counterproductive, Kenny. Why not just make a Facebook post or something?" Kenny shook his head. "Not good enough. Not loud enough. Everyone in town needs to be able to see the message and feel some hope." He replied. I sighed. "Kenny, you're just digging yourself a hole, here. Soon, you're gonna end up in juvie again." Kenny didn't reply. He simply walked up to Stan's house and dropped the care package on his doorstep. "You go deliver that to Butters's family. I'm going to make my mark on this damned town." He said. Kenny ran off, but I didn't call after him. I just simply watched him run off. My moral instincts kicked in, demanding that I try to stop him. But I held them off. I needed to deliver this package. Maybe Kenny was right....

((Kenny's POV))
I saw it, the large cinderblock wall behind City Wok. My canvas, the place to spread a message of hope. Maybe one that will throw that fat bastard off. Taking the spray can in my left hand, I work diligently, with no time to spare. The place is closed for the night, so hopefully nobody will spot me, at least not for a little while. I take the permanent marker from my pocket and continue adding small details to it, humming to myself all the while. My mind was focused on my friends, and my future. Finally, I finished. Taking a quick look around, I tightened my parka and ran off into the dark. My message was short, but still meaningful:

Your life is the only one you have

I hope everyone sees it.