It all started at the end. Not that ends were really a rare thing for me, but this one was different. This one changed things. It's funny, the way people react when you're gone, or even in my case... die, tells a lot about how that person felt about you when you were with them. For me, death was not uncommon. The usual horrible, tragic death usually was followed by an "oh my god they killed Kenny, you bastards!" from Kyle and Stan and no reaction from Cartman. Then at that point everything usually went black. Of course, no one ever remembered any of what happened, but I always did. For some reason, this time seemed different to me.

Kyle and I were walking over to Stan's house to watch the new Transformers movie that he recently got on dvd. I know, it sounds kind of lame, but movie night with the guys was a tradition and it was actually (dare I say) sometimes fun.

"So did you hear? Stan's back with Wendy." Kyle said, as we walked down the street.

"Those two break up and get back together more times than I could ever count." I said, lighting a cigarette. I knew Kyle hated it when I smoked around him, but I figured it was acceptable outside, besides, it had been a long day.

"I know. It's ridiculous." I could see from the corner of my eye that Kyle was staring at the cigarette.

After a long pause, Kyle added in, "so how's the new girl of yours?"

I laughed. "She's not a new girl, just some girl that was looking to have some fun and I was willing to show it to her." After seeing the shocked and embarrassed look on Kyle's face, I smirked. "You should really try it some time, Kyle."

I exhaled smoke, which was clearly visible in the cold Colorado air. "Much better than all that relationship crap." I mumbled.

"Relationships aren't all crap..." Kyle said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"No, not all of them. But the ones I'm used to are." I said. I wanted to tell him everything. The fact that my parents were constantly fighting. The fact that they would get divorced, but they both know that they can't last on their own. I really did want to tell him, because Kyle always knew the right answer. Always. He was the most dependable and honest person I knew. I wanted him to tell me what to do. I really wanted to, but I couldn't. It was pathetic. Me, running to Kyle to get advice on what to do about my dysfunctional life at home. Not going to happen.

We went to cross the street. Kyle opened his mouth, as if he was going to ask what I meant. Dig the truth out of me. But no words came out. It was as if he was moving in slow motion. Oh no, this was a familiar feeling. I looked to my side, and saw very close headlights. Boom. I was face down in the cement. Right in the middle of the street. Everything around me was warm and red. Blood. But I knew by now that if I could feel it, I wasn't dead... yet.

"Oh my god they killed Kenny! ...You bastards!" What a familiar phrase. But this time, there was only one voice and it was unusually close. I felt Kyle's arms, picking me up. Everything was going blurry, but from what I could somewhat see and from what I could hear he was starting to cry. "Someone call an ambulance!" he shouted.

Maybe it was because I hadn't died in a while that he was actually getting emotional. It had actually been quite a few months since my last tragic death. No, he wouldn't remember anyway. I didn't know why he cared so much this time. Maybe it was because no one else was around. Or maybe it was because it was so unexpected, for both of us.

"Hang on Kenny!" He whispered to more of himself than to me.

It was too late. I knew that in just moments I would be gone. I wanted to hang on, just this once. I wanted to tell him, "don't worry, it will be fine! Just wait!" But I couldn't open my mouth. I couldn't do anything. I was dead. ...Again.