Disclaimer: All places and characters referenced to the television show South Park are property of Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

Knock, knock, knock.

Sheila promptly answered the door, "Hello, Stanley."

"Hi Mrs. Broflovski, is Kyle around?"

"Yes, he's upstairs. Come on in."

"Kyle!" She yelled, "Stanley's here and he wants to talk to you!"

Kyle hurried down the stairs.

"Hey, Stan!" He greeted cheerfully.

"Hey!"

"What's up?" Kyle beckoned him to the couch.

"I was wondering if maybe you would come on a bike ride with me…? I figured I'd come ask you since you didn't want to go alone last time."

Kyle chuckled lightly before becoming serious, "You do remember what happened last time though, right? Your asthma…"

Stan hushed him, "It'll be okay. We'll stay in town this time. Please…?"

"As long as I don't have to wear knee and elbow pads," Kyle whispered.

Both boys laughed.

"Hey, mom?" Kyle entered the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to go ride my bike with Stan for a while, okay?"

"Alright, bubeleh. Just make sure you two wear your helmets."

Both Stan and Kyle scowled.

"Alright…"

"Be back soon!" They heard her call as Kyle closed his front door.

It was a nice early winter day in South Park, Colorado. Snow was on the ground and it was not warm by any stretch of the imagination but that being said, the snow was pretty well cleared off of the streets and sidewalks.

"Where are we riding to?" Kyle questioned as he fastened his helmet; Stan did the same.

"I don't know… How about around the park?"

"Sounds good."

The duo hopped on their bikes and departed.

A little under an hour later the two had rode through the park and halfway around the town talking, laughing, enjoying the weather, and having a good time.

They approached the last neighborhood they decided to ride through before heading back.

"See?" Stan huffed tiredly.

"See what?"

"I told you everything would be okay; no asthma attack this time."

"I guess so…," Kyle admitted. "But we still have about a eight blocks to go."

"Race you?" Stan immediately challenged.

"You're on!"

She was in a hurry – late for work. She was on the phone with her husband telling him to pick the children up from school… She didn't see the stop sign or the curb or the two young boys riding their bikes.

As the speeding, two-ton SUV hit the curb it jarred violently. The woman slammed on the brakes as she desperately swerved to avoid the kids. The boy on the far side got lucky, falling into a nearby yard… The one closer to the street took the full impact of the vehicle.

His bicycle crumpled instantaneously under the extreme force of the impact. The boy was hurled into the air briefly before crashing back down onto the hood of the vehicle – his head cracking the windshield. As the vehicle came to a sudden stop he was thrown violently onto the rock-hard concrete with a sickening thud before tumbling and skidding to a stop multiple meters down the road.

Stunned, Kyle scrambled to his feet and ran to the side of his super best friend.

As he approached the shallowly breathing figure in the middle of the street, Kyle could barely hold it together.

Stan was a bloody, bruised, mangled mess. It would be a miracle if he survived.

"Stan…?" He kneeled on the cold ground shaking, unsure if he should touch him or not.

The boy was completely still… No response.

Tears stung at his eyes as he clenched his fists in dismay turning back to the rouge vehicle.

The driver had stepped out; she was hysterical.

"What are you doing?!" Kyle screamed, "Call 911!"

The woman nodded and frantically searched for her cell phone.

9-1-1.