Kenny stopped aging at twenty-five.

It took him years to really notice. He was in his mid forties when he figured it out. At first, he put it off as being healthy. But all he ate was cheap junk food, and when even Kyle started aging, he knew it was something else.

Death must be screwing with him. He died and died and died, and came back over and over again. Being immortal was just another one of the quirks. He thought it was cool at first. Because no matter what Death thought up for him, he would always come back. His friends could stop worrying about when he would stop coming back.

Then Kyle died.

It was so...normal, the way he died. So...not what Kenny was used to. Kenny was used to being hit by cars and meteors and knives and falling trees, being shot and sliced and diced until he was reduced to nothing more than a twitching red glob. Forgetting a daily dose of insulin was so sickeningly normal that Kenny wasn't sure what to think.

So he comforted Stan, holding him in his arms and patting him on the back as he stared bemusedly at the casket. He didn't dare go near the grieving wrath that was Sheila Broflovski.

Next was Cartman, naturally. The fat-ass had only gotten fatter over the years. He owned a huge corporation, so the filthy-rich bastard never had to actually do anything. He just sat there and ate Cheesie Poofs all day, signing papers and bathing himself with money. He died of a heart attack in the middle of his office. Kenny wasn't sure what to feel.

He kept Stan close, entertaining his friend's son Sean with stories and games. Even as Stan aged, both physically and mentally, Kenny still didn't let him go.

Stan died of a stroke at age eighty-seven.

Kenny held Sean close at the funeral, comforting him as best he could. Kimberly and Ethan, Cartman's children, sat near the back. Kevin, Kyle's son, sat loyally next to Sean, helping Kenny soothe him. Even Caleb and Terra, Craig's kids, were there with their father, Daniel Tweak sitting next to them. Tweek had died about twenty years before. A heart attack, predictably.

Kenny became the babysitter. He was the one they came to for advice. His friends' kid, and their kids and their kid's kids and their kid's kid's kids and so on. They all looked up to him. And they all eventually died. He was the oldest person in South Park, in the state, in the country. He must have been a century and a half in years, probably more, but he didn't look a day older than twenty-five. He had tried to kill himself more times than the human mind can process, and he still kept coming back. Death after death, he came back.

After about two-hundred years, he left. He was tired. Tired of seeing everyone he knew, everyone he helped raise since the minute they were born, die. He just wanted to be left alone.

He stayed in Virginia for about two years, which, after two-hundred years, felt more like two minutes, before moving to England. He stayed there, working for people who came off as shady politicians from planet Vulcan*, before moving up to Russia. There, he could drink the bars dry of every single drop of vodka they had, and no one would question him.

He lived like a hermit for another nine-hundred years. He didn't talk to anyone. He didn't visit anyone. And in turn, no one bothered him. No one even spared him a second glance. It was like he wasn't there.

One day, he threw himself into a bon fire. It was the first suicide he'd committed in a while. He was tired of being Death's bitch. It was time to talk.

Death was a nice guy, really. He took Kenny into a pizzeria in Chicago, Illinois, having a nice conversation with him over a serving of deep-dish pizza, as if it happened all the time*. Kenny kept his calm, speaking easily despite all that had happened to him.

After a very long discussion with Death, Kenny left the pizzeria with a small smile on his face.

On October twenty-first, 2242, Kenneth McCormick died suddenly in his sleep. The causes were unknown. There were no injuries, there was no trauma, there was no illness of any kind. He just keeled over and died. Very few mourned his death. Only a handful of people even knew his name.

But Kenny didn't care. He floated in darkness, existing and yet not existing, corporeal and incorporeal. There was no Heaven. There was no Hell. There was only darkness.

Kenny was happy at last.

*The line "Shady politicians from planet Vulcan" is a quote from the popular TV show 'Supernatural'. Dean said this when describing the angels in season 4.

*Having lunch with Death in Chicago is a reference to the most recent episode of Supernatural, season five episode twenty-one, Two Minutes to Midnight.

I've had this idea in my head for a few days. Poor, poor Kenny. I'm so mean to my favorite characters.
/loves comments

PS: Yes, more Supernatural references. God, I love that show. It's just...it's...it's...*loves it*