"Stop!" I screech at the top of my lungs, looking up at the metal monster who stands not far from me. This was like something out of Godzilla. The sun shone off the metal of the beast, it's roar defining, hurting my ears.

"I can't allow you to destroy this town!" I put my hands out on to the side of me, gesturing to the crumbling town around me. I stood at three feet ten inches against a seventy foot metallic dinosaur-resembling monster. Defiantly, I tried to stay in my place. I get no formal answer, only another roar and a swish of the arm to hit another building next to us. I lightly look away, shielding myself from the oncoming debris.

"Will you please stop?" My last attempt, and it failed. The niceness always did. Instead of nodding its terrifying head and stomping away from this town, it gave another terrible screech, and lifted it's metallic, heavy foot. My eyes went wide as it came towards me. I couldn't out run it if I tried, but even if I could, I was to frozen to move.

The only thing I remember is the darkness that engulfed me.

My eyes flutter open after the last memory replayed in my head. I blink unknowingly. Where am I? I thought to myself as I stared at the white ceiling overhead. My eyes lull themselves to the side and I come to the same sky blue colored wall I remember of my childhood room.

"How…?" I ask myself as I brought a hand to my forehead. There was something off about today, I just couldn't figure out what though. With a small headache and aching body I finally lifted my upper half of off my bed to get a better look around my old room.

It was the same as I remembered it.

The light brown dresser in the corner of my room and a nightstand to my right. Baby blue duvet over a short twin sized bed. Books stacked neatly on a small table that sat in front of the bedroom window. Everything was how it was yesterday. So, why do I feel like something's off?

I kick my legs to the side of the bed and make a move to sit up. The first thing I notice is my feet reaching the ground fairly quicker than yesterday. The next: I'm not wearing my bedtime socks.

Yes, I wear socks to bed.

I don't bother to look down to see the changes in my body, that thought just did not enter my brain. I stand wearily, I'm dizzy. It feels as though I have been sitting for god knows how long and abruptly standing up. After the stars I see disappear I begin to make my way to the door. I notice one more thing.

The door seems so much shorter than yesterday.

Weird. Again, I don't bother to investigate. Instead I turn the handle and walk out into the quiet and similar hallway. I see the same portraits hanging on the wall, only at a different eye level.

"Mum?" I call out softly with a slightly sore throat. Did I get sick last night?

I get no answer so I venture down the stairs where I hear the soft klinking of dishes being put into the sink and the soft but light speech of my foster parents in the kitchen. Dad mumbles something and Mum in turn gives a fit of giggles.

"Mum? Dad?" I inquire as I step around the small opening.

They turn silent.

"Mum?" I asked again, "What's wrong?" It seems I am left out in the dark as they stare me over with looks that are frightened, yet surprised. I raise an eyebrow in question, a quite inquiry.

"Ph-Ph-Phillip?" Mum stutters my name semi-coherently.

"Yes, Mum?" I answer back.

"By Jove!" She exclaimed, still shocked at my appearance in the kitchen for reasons unknown. "You're alive! Oh, my God! Richard! He's alive!" Mother runs to me, abandoning the sausages she was cooking on the skillet, and wraps her long arms around my waist in some sort of death hug. Whispering her mantra, "You're alive, you're alive…"

I am now thoroughly confused. "What? I'm alive? You're acting as though I had died, Mum." I laugh a little as I was unaware of the situation, thinking my mother was off the rocker.

She glances up to me with perturbed disbelief.

"Phillip!" She exclaimed, "You did!" She was in hysterics now, un-fallen tears in her hazel eyes. I chance a glance to my father who sat, staring in amazement, and watching Mum and I in our moment of our supposed reunion. "You died ten years ago, Phillip!" I blink, staring down at her as though she was bluffing. "Oh God, oh God, this is a miracle…" She trails off, crying freely on my shoulder as I now stood taller than her, and I wrap my arms comfortingly around her shoulders in slight confusion.

I died?

Ten years ago, no less. I still didn't believe it. But it was hard not too. I am no longer four feet tall, it seems I may be about taller than five foot four inches. I am baffled to no end, scrunching my brow in confusion.

I died, ten years ago. So, why the hell am I still here?

My body is not tall, lean, thin. My hair is a bundle of lanky, pale-blond tresses that hang to my collarbones. My skin is pale flesh with some pink shades on my cheeks from the cold. "It looks like acrylic paste." I think to myself and put a hand on my cheek to see if I would smudge off the offending paint and reveal my real slightly sun-kissed skin. But, no such luck. It's my real skin.

I start to think again. If I was dead, where did I go for this ten years? Hell, Heaven?" No. I think I would have remembered if I went to either of those places. Then, where? I think for a couple more minutes, evaluating my possibilities.

Limbo.

That's where I was for the past ten years. I remember nothing but floating in oblivion, no surroundings, no company, no noise. Most of all, no sun. I suppose having my body grow up in there it makes sense it's so white and colorless.

I liked to think I was a good Catholic child, staying away from sin and the like. I thought that if I died I would get into heaven. I guess I was wrong. Thinking back, hadn't I befriended the son of the Devil? Yeah. I suppose I would be damned by association.

Thinking for another minute I wondered why I didn't go to Hell to be tortured for life. Perhaps God took pity on me for the boy abandoning me two days after we became friends. Maybe, he was going to damn me to Hell but after I was killed (I still don't remember how) he changed his mind and couldn't get me into Heaven so I got stuck in Limbo?

That's a plausible idea. But it doesn't explain why I'm alive.

Maybe God thought to give me another chance at life to be a good Catholic and get into Heaven?

Yeah. That sounds like a good conclusion.

For a while now I was examining my new body in front of my bedroom full body mirror. I'm taller, leaner, my baby fat in gone, leaving me in nothing but skin, bone, and a little bit of muscle. I guess that it would make sense that I look malnourished. After all, I was stuck in Limbo with an immobile body. Not to mention the lack of sunlight and food. I sigh.

I hear my mum calling me from downstairs, something about it being important. Trudging over the robe that my father let me borrow over my shoulders, I tie it tightly at the waist and head downstairs for the "special announcement" my mother was talking about. I really with I had some clothes that actually fit me.

"What is it, Mum?" I ask as I step into the living room.

"We wanted to go clothes shopping for you, so you can actually wear some clothes instead of walking around naked." She spoke out bluntly, making my blush in the process, knowing full well this robe if the only thing I'm wearing. "How about you and I go? You can borrow your father's clothes, of course. Right, Dear?"

"Yes, yes." Father dismisses before taking a look at me. "Although, the clothes might be a bit to big on you." Father insists, he's always been iffy about people wearing his clothes.

"Oh, Joe, stop your silliness. He'll fit fine!" Mum insists her point of the argument.

"But, look at him!" Father motions his hands towards my body. "He's all skin and bone, he'll practically sink in my clothes!" Again, I blush. I had already scrutinized myself in front of the mirror, I don't need the judgmental look of my parents.

"Well, what do you propose, that he wears my clothes?"

"That could be a possibility." Joe offers, hand on his chin as if he's thinking.

This was going to be a long day.

In the end I ended up wearing my mother's clothes.

Black leggings clung to my lithe legs, mid-thigh length tan shorts hung loosely around my hips and a women's white formal dress shirt hung easily off my thin shoulders. In the end, it doesn't look half bad. I admit it looked better compared to how badly I looked in my father's clothes. It was like seeing a five year old playing dress-up with their parents clothes. To top it all off, my mother let me borrow her tan-like hat and her tan colored flats.

I look myself over in her mirror after changing, how feminine can I get? Give me a clip, some makeup, and big sun glasses and I could be a model. I inwardly sigh. Walking downstairs to my parents, who where waiting for my arrival, was dreadful. I could already hear what each one would say. Father would say he told her, as well as poking fun of my femininity and my mother would scold him lightly and get excited, saying that it would be so much fun to go shopping together.

I creep around the corner of the house into the living room slowly, preparing myself for some unintended humiliation.

"Is this alright?" I question, holding my arms out so they can see the damage done to my nonexistent pride.

"Oh, Phillip! You look just adorable!" I knew it.

"I told you he'd look better in your clothes. He would have looked like a clown in mine."

"Oh, hush Richard." And on they went to bicker like the old married couple they are. They should be entering their thirty's now, with the time skip of my death.

Their bickering ended about two minutes later with mother's proclaimed win before we left to the shopping center.

There was nothing exciting going on, people shopping, people talking, couples kissing, and pretty much what anyone would expect to see at a mall. There was some pretty odd moments though, when people stopped and stared, scrutinizing my body and appearance, some dropping their jaws to gawk. I'm not quite sure, but I even think some had the intention of speaking to me to ridicule me. It was something I was used to back ten years ago when I was a child. However, they never made it to question me as me and mother soon finished all the shopping I desired, and that wasn't much. I got what I needed, the next thing would be for me to start school. How hard could it be to pick up my life where I left off?

A/N: Thank you. People's reviews and favorites of my other work made me feel special and not a complete failure. 大好き!

Disclaimer; I don't own South Park or its characters. But, I do claim the story line.