Chapter Text
What does it mean to be alive?
Is it by how much we can accomplish by achieving our goals during our short lives? What about how much happiness they bring into other people’s lives?
Living is the hardest thing anyone does. We enter this world not knowing what the future holds for any of us. Some of us are lucky and have a loving family, maybe live in a nice house, and receive a high-quality education in hopes that we will make something of ourselves.
However, some are not so fortunate. Some kids grow up not knowing a stable family life. Some have difficulties in their academics and are constantly reprimanded for their skills and talents, or lack thereof. Society picks who succeeds and who goes to die. If any brave souls choose to go against this view, then they might as well be seen as dead because life will only get worse from here on out, or so it seemed.
“Ok, Butters, you know the rules,” Cartman said, his charming voice hiding something much more sinister behind it. He waddled over to the dumpster behind the school and lifted the lid, releasing the foul smell from within. The thick, vile odor of old discarded food spoilage would make anyone gag.
“Yeah, I know.” Butters replied sadly, already being put through this punishment. It was only him, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman behind the school. It was off-limits for students to be back here, but the school had been over for some time, and everyone, including the facility, had gone home.
Butters set down his backpack and hesitantly approached the dumpster. His blue eyes watered, and his face scrunched up in disgust when the smell reached his sensitive nostrils. If there is one thing Butters hated, it was unpleasant smells and being unclean. With no choice, he held his nose as tightly as he could to protect himself from having to smell any more of the eyewatering stench before climbing in. He adjusted his small, framed body onto the pile of rotten food before tucking his body into a ball and hugging his knees to his chest.
Balancing on the balls of his feet, which sank a couple of inches into the sludge, Butters was fully submerged in the dumper. He was careful not to let any more of his clothes touch the garbage, or he would be in more trouble when he got home. Once he was fully inside, a loud BANG from the lid crashing down shook the entire dumpster. The vibrations caused the startled blond to lose his balance and fall backward into the unknown mixture of garbage that lay beneath him. Butter's backside was now covered in disgusting spoilage that quickly absorbed into his soft cotton blue shirt.
With the lid closed it was unsettling how quickly the darkness consumed him. He began to feel claustrophobic, and the thick, pungent odor surrounding him was about to smother him. It was all because he failed his duties as a friend. Cartman said if they were going to be friends and let him hang out, then he was going to have to do what they said, which included doing all Cartman’s homework since he was too busy with other things.
Unfortunately, last night, he didn’t have enough time to do both his and Cartman’s homework. Butters was asked by his friend Stan to return Wendy her ‘special’ pen back. It was red with ladybugs on it. She had given it to him for their 4-month anniversary last week. Well, they were in a huge fight now, and they didn’t want to speak with one another, so it was up to him to return the special pen to her. It was important to Stan and he wanted to prove he could be a trusted friend.
He successfully returned the pen, and after one long rant from Wendy, he finally made it to class…20 minutes late. He was given detention and one disappointed phone call to his parents. His father was awfully sore at him that night. When he got home, he spent the rest of the day rewashing all the dishes in the house and cleaning out the garage.
Butters knew this was coming. All day, he had been dreading what Cartman was going to do to him when that final bell rang. Cartman’s punishments were always the worst. They certainly taught him a lesson - getting in trouble with both his teachers and his father was much more manageable compared to what his friends did to him.
It felt like hours since he had been trapped in his stinky prison, but he knew it was only a few seconds. Butters gave up holding his nose. The odor had become so overpowering that no matter how tightly he held his nose, the smell came through. When he released his nose and his nostrils opened up, it was the most putrid and vile thing he had ever smelled in his entire life. He gagged and kept his hands from touching anything.
He was going to suffocate if he didn’t get out fast.
Banging on the lid, Butters shouted, “Please, let me out, fellas!” Choking and coughing on his words from trying to hold his breath and speak at the same time. He was becoming lightheaded and nauseous, but continued to bang as hard as he could on the lid above.
“Alright, you had your fun, Cartman. Now let him out already.” He recognized the voice as Kyle's. Butters hoped Cartman would listen and let him out.
“No way, he likes it in there. Don’t you, Butters?” Cartman rhetorically asked through the thin piece of plastic that separated the two.
Coughing once more over the odor coming from the garbage, Butters still answered the question. “No, not really.” He had to yell for his voice to be audible from inside the dumpster. This time, he tried standing up and pushing the lid open with all his strength. However, the lid did not budge. It was as if a large weight was sitting on top of the lid, keeping him from freeing himself.
Thinking he was not going to get out of there any time soon, Butters prepared himself to be sick by placing a hand over his mouth. Right as something was about to come up more voices came through the plastic.
“Look, guys, I've got to get home.” It was Stan who was thankfully agreeing with Kyle. Hopefully, they could convince Cartman to leave with them.
“Yeah, let’s go. Get off your fat ass and move.” Kyle added, sounding more annoyed than anything else.
“Hey! How about I come over there and throw your skinny Jew ass in this dumpster too?” Cartman yelled as he hopped off the lid, causing the dumpster to shake again. Butters waited until he could no longer hear any of their voices. When the voices disappeared, he popped up from out of the dumpster, checking to see if Cartman or any of his friends were still out there. He didn’t want to get yelled at for leaving. When he noticed it was just him, he quickly climbed out of the dumpster as fast as he could.
He took a few precious deep breaths of the fresh air, thankful for the crisp mountain air that replaced the horrible stench from his nose. It was much preferred to the overwhelming scent of trash. After taking in a few more breaths of air, he brushed off what little trash from his body that clung to him. He could feel some of the unknown sticky liquid seeping through his pants and shirt. No doubt, he was going to get a grounding for the condition his clothes were in when he got home.
Oh well, there wasn’t much he could do for now. He picked up his backpack and started his longer, smelly journey home. Despite being out of that sinful dumpster, the smell still lingered on his person like a sticky curse. This would certainly remind him not to forget to do Cartman’s homework again, that’s for sure.
Since branded as a smelly belly from Cartman’s punishment, Butters wanted to spare himself the humiliation of anyone from school seeing him look like this. As if he needed more of a reason for people to pick on him. Thankfully, he knew a different way home, through the back roads. It took him a little longer, and it that past through the shadier parts of town, including the cemetery that was labeled as haunted by all the kids in school. It wasn’t so bad during the day, but at night things got a little too spooky for him.
He walked cautiously down the street in the unkept neighborhood with the cracked sidewalks and overgrown grass lots on people’s property. The furniture on the porches seemed rather old and torn up, and the cars in the driveways were much older than him. But who was he to judge someone by the way they lived their life?
It’s nice to have all sorts of unique people in the world.
Butters picked up his pace until he was finally out of the bad neighborhood. Now all he had to do was cut through the cemetery, and he would be that much closer to his next punishment waiting for him. The gate to the cemetery was always open to the public from dawn until dusk. He wasn’t sure who oversaw the grounds or made sure it got locked every night. He just knew that he wouldn’t want to have that job.
He once heard a rumor that the goth kids come out here to perform rituals and scary stuff like that, but that’s just silly.
Upon entering the cemetery, Butters would occasionally stop to admire the craftsmanship of many of the headstones. They were beautiful with all the time and detail that went into the artistry, but he would sometimes forget that a dead person was lying underneath.
After admiring a bunch he passed, Butters found one headstone that made him stop to admire it just a little longer. Once he realized he was looking at a gravesite for a little girl, it brought tears to his eyes. The little girl was not much older than he but had passed away a few years ago. She must have been special and loved since it looked like her parents spared no expense on her grave. The headstone was sculpted into the shape of a child angel wearing a gown and with beautiful wings. It had flowers and birds, and hearts sculpted all around it, and on the wings of the angel, it wrote,
“The short time you were with us was the most blessed moment of our lives.”
Butters would read those words over and over in his head with the knowledge that a child who was loved and cherished was taken too soon. Death was too scary and sad to think about. It was a thought that filled his sensitive heart with a heavy sorrow. He didn’t want to think about death, not when there was so much to live for. Sure, we’re all going to die, but that doesn’t mean we have to spend the time we are alive thinking about dying. We should value what little time we have and live it to the fullest.
Once he was able to shake the depressive thoughts from his head and put on a happy smile, Butters said a silent prayer for the child and her family before continuing down the path. He didn’t have plans to stop anymore, the sun was starting to set, and he didn’t want to be in a cemetery at night and risk finding out the rumors were true.
Trudging on down the clean and tended pathway, he couldn’t help but spot someone in the distance. It was hard not to notice since he had on a reflective orange jacket and matching pants. For the most part, this place was unoccupied, save for the undead residents. Though it wasn’t uncommon for there to be someone visiting a loved one who had passed away.
The guy was leaning over a headstone with shaggy blond hair covering his closed eyes. He had a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth, but he looked like he had fallen asleep halfway through smoking. He moved closer, getting a closer look at the sleeping boy, and he could make out more of the guy's features. Butters was taught that it was rude to stare, but his eyes never ventured away.
When the boy abruptly shifted, Butters nearly jumped out of his dirty shoes with a yelp. The enigmatic boy with the shaggy blond hair didn’t acknowledge him as he took a long drag from his cigarette before flicking the cigarette onto the grass. Butters watched in slow motion as the cigarette landed on the ground in horror. How could he do such a thing? This was a place of respect, not a place to litter.
“Um, excuse me, sir.” Butters called out, sounding a little less confident than he would have liked. “It’s not very nice to throw your trash on the ground. I think you should pick that up, please.” The guy in the dirty orange jacket finally acknowledged him as he stood up from the headstone and peeked through his dirty blond hair over to the nervous blond boy.
Butters immediately flinched when the guy’s hollow-looking eyes targeted him. Those frightening, distant blue eyes eventually left his as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crinkled-up open package of cheap cigarettes. He took out a new stick from the nearly empty pack and placed it in his mouth before lighting it with a cheap lighter he had in his other pocket.
After a couple of drags from the cigarette and no anticipated movement, Butters realized the guy had no intention of picking up his trash. He wished people would start caring a little less about themselves and a little more about others. Even if these people are dead, they still deserve to rest in a nice, clean place. Finding his courage, he walked fully off the walkway and came closer to where the blond was standing, Butters located the discarded cigarette butt that had been thrown a few feet from the boy. With a silent huff, he bent down and carefully picked it up.
Before he could stand back up, he could feel the little bit of adrenaline drain from his little body when he felt those blue eyes back on him, piercing into his wary soul. As he slowly stood up with the cigarette in his hand, he snuck a closer look at the boy. He was younger than he had originally suspected, but hid behind dark circles around his eyes and a light dust of dirt on parts of his face and clothes. Butters’ face softened when he looked upon this young man and saw an assortment of disheartening emotions. His pale face remained void of any expression as he continued to smoke his cigarette.
There was something off-putting about this kid, but he couldn’t place his finger on it. He didn’t appear to be fully present in the world. He was physically here, but his mind and his heart seemed to be miles away as he looked into the distance. Butters stared as he took another long drag of his cigarette and puffed out a large cloud of white smoke away from Butters’ face. The smell of tobacco was easily distinguishable, but there was another awful odor being covered up by the smoke.
Thinking the smell was coming from him, Butters brushed it off before coming to the sad conclusion that this guy probably lost someone close to him recently. That would explain the uncaring attitude he had towards him and the fact that he looks like he hasn’t slept for quite some time.
Now he felt like the bad guy. This guy was going through the hardship of death, and he was just over here scolding him over a little piece of trash. Upset with himself, Butter accidentally forgot he had the smoking cigarette in his hand. When he closed his hands together, the small embers from the cigarette burned his hands.
“Ow!” Butters cried out, dropping the cigarette butt back on the ground. He then began shaking and blowing on his hand to ease the burning sensation that wouldn’t seem to diminish. The strange guy took the cigarette out from between his lips. He blew out another puff of white smoke before asking in a low, emotionless voice, “Are you ok?”
Butters cradled his hand with the other and looked up at the taller blond. “Yeah, I’m ok.” Butters answered, examining his palms for any burns. “Um, I’m sorry for your loss.” Butters apologetically said with a sympathetic smile in hopes that it could bring some comfort to his pain. The shaggy blond guy finished his second cigarette and put it out on the tombstone next to them before tossing it on the ground next to his feet.
“Don’t worry about it. No one else has.” He uttered with a hint of exasperation, as he flipped on his hood that was lined with brown fur before shoving his hands into his orange jacket nonchalantly.
What did he mean by that no one else has? Surely, people would care if someone they cared about died.
“May I ask who it was that passed away?” Butters spoke, pressing him more into a conversation as he peeked at the headstone the boy had been previously leaning on. He looked like he needed someone to talk to, and Butters wanted to help even though he wasn’t asked.
The guy looked straight into Butters’ lighter blue eyes before saying in a completely dead voice, “Me.”
Butters’ eyes then grew twice their size. There was no way this kid could be dead or anything resembling death. He seemed a little pale and malnourished, but not dead. “Yo-you’re dead?” Butters finally clarified, his tiny voice quivered in disbelief while his brain tried to comprehend what this guy was talking about. “Um, well, how can you be dead if you’re right here talking to me?”
The guy only shrugged before turning and walking away. Butters’ body was frozen in place with his mouth agape. He couldn’t understand what this guy had just told him. It just didn’t make any logical sense. If he could physically see and communicate with the boy, then he must exist, right? Did he really just have an encounter with the paranormal? Afraid of what the answer could be, his eyes never left the guy in the orange jacket as he slowly walked over the hill and eventually grew out of sight.
It was only when the boy disappeared did Butters’ body finally moved again. He shook his head slightly as he tried to think more rational thoughts. However, he couldn’t explain why his body reacted just then. Was it simply from shock, or was it something unworldly? He was confused and a little scared of actually having seen a ghost, but he was also a little curious. Unwilling to follow to get any more answers tonight, Butters ran at a full sprint out of the cemetery towards home. He never once looked back until he was safe and secure in his own house, away from any person or spirit that could get to him.