"Bye Kenny!" I hear Kyle yell as he steps inside his house. I turn around and wave goodbye. We usually walk home together since are houses are so close to each other. Of course, no one really lives that far apart from anyone else because this redneck town is so small, but whatever; at least it meant I didn't have that far to walk, especially since my parents are so fucking poor they can't even afford to buy a decent meal, much less a car.

I step on the crosswalk, but before I'm even halfway across the street I hear a car heading my way. Just as I see the speeding car coming closer, it crashes into me and the last thing I remember before blacking out is that I'm flying halfway across the street.

When I wake up I notice right away that there's this emo kid staring right at me. It takes me a while to remember who he is and when I recall what happened I let out a groan. I hadn't died for a whole three days (which Kyle had said to be some kind of record) and had started hoping that maybe my dead-then alive-then dead again sequence had finally stopped. Obviously, it hadn't.

"Kenny, you're here!" he says. I was already in a bad mood because it had turned out my no dying streak had only lasted three days and listening to his annoyingly high-pitched voice was not making me feel any better.

"Why is it that every fucking time I try to cross the street I always get hit by a goddamn car? That one came out of nowhere!" I burst out. Even though Damien hadn't done anything I couldn't stop myself from releasing my anger and frustration on him, since he was standing right there.

"Oh, right…this time you were actually killed on purpose, my dad made the car accident happen since he wanted to ask you a favor. He couldn't come up there so he had to bring you down here. He sent me to get you for him, so that's why I'm here." I just blink at him. It takes a while for all this to sink in.

"…Huh?" That's all I can think of saying at the moment. I'm too confused to come up with anything else.

"I think he said something about needing you to prevent this thing from happening on Earth or whatever. Since you already go back and forth from being in Hell to being with the living he thought you'd be perfect." I scowl at him.

"Why should I do anything for him, he killed me!"

"So? You probably would've just died the next day or so anyway, and you always just come back to life."

"Why is that?"

"Dunno, ask my dad." He starts walking away, probably headed towards where Satan is. Sighing wearily, I get up and follow him.

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"Kenny, do you know why I brought you here?" Satan asks. I shook my head. I'm standing in front of him now, having followed Damien all the way here. He had left the room a while ago, which left just Satan and I.

"Well, one of those friends of yours, the fat one...what's his name...?"

"Cartman?" I ask in disbelief. What did he have to do with anything?

"Right, Cartman, that's the name. You see, when I looked into the future I saw him dying. When he does die, he will end up in hell, which isn't surprising really, but I also saw him trying to overthrow me and take my place as ruler. I brought you here so you could stop that from-"

"Wait, Cartman's dying?" I interrupt him. For some reason hearing that surprised me more than hearing he was going to try and take over hell when he died. Weird.

"Yes, unfortunately if your friend doesn't stop eating the way he does, he'll suffer from heart disease and eventually die from it, which brings me back to the reason I brought you here. If you manage to stop that from happening, either by getting him to lose weight and becoming healthy or somehow make it so that he gets into heaven-" I snort at the idea-"I'll give you anything you want in return." I thought I feel my heart skip a beat when I heard him say that (which is strange, since I happen to be dead). Anything I want, that meant I could ask him to…wait a second, something wasn't right.

"Even if I stop Cartman from dying of heart disease wouldn't he just eventually die from something else when he gets older?"

"True, but as long as he lives a few extra years that will be good enough. I mostly want to give myself more time to prepare for when he tries to take over. Is it a deal then?" I nod, yes.

"How would he even manage to take over, anyway?" I suddenly think to ask. Satan gives me this look as if I had just asked a really stupid question.

"With help from Hitler, of course," he says, like it's the most obvious thing.