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Look, Jesus...
Kyle throws his head back on the sofa and exhales irritably. Sundays are exhausting; he has to wait for the guys like this again and again. Their parents love to go to church every week - to drink wine and make fun of the priest. And they manage to drag their offspring along to pass down the important traditions. Cartman doesn't even fight back, probably he laughs the loudest in church, Kenny is up for any party, and Stan...
Kyle clenches a napkin in his fist. What Stan has on his mind lately is almost impossible to understand. Stan reeks of wine, often skips the gatherings with the guys and spends too much time at the farm, Kyle would say.
"Order some ribs," a message suddenly pops up from Cartman, pulling Kyle out of his thoughts and making him unclench his fist. Damn, finally. So they're on their way, and Kyle calls the waitress.
The waitress serves him a steak just as the guys come into the cafe. Kyle doesn't have to look up to know it's them - Cartman's voice fills the room instantly. Kyle cuts off a piece of steak and puts it in his mouth before looking up.
"Where's Stan?" He blinks in surprise.
Kenny pushes him, hinting to move a bit, and shrugs mundanely:
"Staying there. I guess he wants to catch up with Jesus again after the service."
"Where are my ribs?" Cartman demands. "I knew you wouldn't order. You did that on purpose, didn't you, Kyle? You knew I was hungr-"
"Wait, what?" Kyle ignores him. "Jesus attends the South Park church?"
Cartman snorts:
"Of course, Kyle! I mean, we're his children and stuff. Why," the fatass pretends to be surprised, "Doesn't he come to your synagogue? Oh... And why would Jesus hang out with his murderers?!"
"Shut up, Cartman! And how often does he go there?"
"Oh, come on, Kyle, stop being jealous!" Cartman waves to the waitress.
"Not often," Kenny sips Kyle's juice through a straw. "He doesn't preach though, he usually comes at the end. And yeah, talks with Stan, if that's what you mean. But you know... Sometimes it looks like he's just waiting for Stan," McCormick says, his eyebrows raising and falling.
There's something about Kenny's look that Kyle doesn't like, so Broflovski stares silently at his plate, grabs his knife, and plunges it into the steak.
I learned something today.
The next Sunday, Stan stays at church again, and Kyle counts the passersby on the street while Cartman laughs hysterically about how Butters accidentally spilled altar wine on Jesus this time. Butters got nervous, can you imagine that, what a dumbass.
"Damn, how long he's gonna be grounded for this time..." Kenny thinks aloud. "Stan?" Kenny looks behind Broflovski's back.
Kyle turns sharply toward Marsh; Stan's cheeks are a little flushed and his hair disheveled.
"What?" Stan drops his backpack and sits down next to Kyle, and Broflovski can smell the subtle scent of wine coming from Stan.
"How long is Butters gonna get grounded for? Five bucks says a week."
"I think Jesus already forgave him," Stan reaches for the menu in front of Kyle's face, and Kyle automatically takes a sniff - Stan obviously smells something else. But what exactly?
"A week?!" Cartman snaps. "Jesus got stuck in the back room then, must've washed his robe. Butters'll get all three weeks."
"If you think so," Kenny laughs. "Where'd you go after the service?" He turns to Stan, squinting his eyes slyly.
"I..." Stan doesn't take his eyes off the menu, "was throwing up."
"Throwing up?" Kyle is surprised. He tries to catch Stan's eye but he doesn't look at him.
"Kyle, stop worrying like mommy!" Cartman inserts. "I bet some dick was down his throat and he couldn't take it."
Kenny cracks up into the parka. Kyle doesn't even react; he's sure Stan will get angry and stand up for himself.
But Stan just glances blankly at the guys and stares back at the menu.
My friend Stan is very important to me.
Kyle tries to tie his shoelaces but his fingers tremble with incomprehensible tension. He looks up and unmistakably finds Stan in the mishmash of guys changing clothes and cackling. Marsh is standing at his locker, taking off his T-shirt, and Kyle's gaze glides fleetingly over his torso, trying to find...
Kyle frowns and returns to his sneakers. Trying to find what?
Kyle doesn't know what, he tries to tie the laces again but the laces are long, too long - why the fuck are they so long? Annoying as hell.
Kyle looks up angrily; Stan pulls a water bottle out of the wild mess of his locker, slams the door, walks out.
There's practically no one left in the locker room; the game is about to start. Kyle manages to tie his shoelaces, but their ends are dangling, and Broflovski knows he'll stumble that way, so he growls, pulls his backpack toward him. He pulls a knife out of there and cuts off the extra length of shoelaces with a sharp, forceful motion.
Playing in the open field in this weather is a very nice thing, and Kyle tries to exhale, relax, and enjoy the game. Soon the game turns into a mess, with Cartman yelling that Craig's field goal didn't happen, Craig just made it up, Tolkien is pushing really hard today, and Butters is super crappy at passing.
Crowd of guys runs towards the end of the field, Kenny with the ball, Cartman yells and runs after him, Kenny accelerates but stumbles. Cartman flies on top of him, the rest of them follow him.
Then comes the crunch of bones and the smacking of meat.
One by one, the guys get up and Cartman gets up last; there's a bloody stain on his T-shirt and a crumble of flesh under his feet. Cartman squeamishly wrinkles his nose.
There is silence.
"You bastards!" Kyle exclaims and then looks around perplexed. "Where's Stan?"
"He said he'd get some water," Butters replies, squatting down and touching Kenny's leftovers with his finger. "Oh, jeez".
"Ew, I'm taking a shower," Cartman announces.
The guys decide to take a break, and Kyle turns his head confusedly all over the place. He spots a crate of water bottles by the bleachers and decides to head over there.
As he approaches the crate, Kyle hears muffled voices and cautiously looks behind the bleachers.
Behind the bleachers, Stan and Jesus are talking quietly about something; Stan has a faint smile on his lips.
"Stan?"
"Oh, hey, Kyle," Stan turns to him, clearly not expecting him. "You, uh, remember Jesus, don't you?"
"Hello, Kyle," Jesus smiles slightly.
"Hi," Broflovski says coolly.
Stan holds the bottle he took out of his locker before the game. Only now the water looks suspiciously like wine.
Kyle glares at the bottle, clenches his jaw, and meets Stan's gaze.
"Dude, they killed Kenny there."
"Oh my God," Stan says, and immediately turns to Jesus.
The face of Jesus promises reassurance; Jesus gently half-closes his eyes and informs him confidentially:
"Kenny will be resurrected."
Stan nods, wraps his lips around the neck of the bottle and takes a sip.
Kyle can't believe his eyes. Jesus says something, and Stan listens to him, Stan believes him.
Broflovski starts to boil over.
"How did they even let you on the school grounds?" He turns sharply to Jesus, burning him with his gaze.
Jesus meekly bows his head and responds benignly:
"Just as easily as they let the students who carry a knife in their backpack."
Unfortunately, my friend Stan often succumbs to outside influences. Sects, religions, PETA membership. He sometimes loses his mind, but if you reach out to him, he always comes to his senses.
Kyle grabs Stan's hand when he notices the bandages on his palms.
"Dude, what is that?"
Stan pulls his hand back, but Kyle intercepts his wrist and drags him around the corner, away from the guys. Stan barely struggles as Kyle unwraps the bandage.
There's a bleeding ulcer in the center of his palm. Kyle touches it with his thumb, Stan hisses sluggishly.
"Are these stigmata?"
"Yeah," Stan looks somewhere over Kyle's shoulder. He sighs, resigning himself to the need for an explanation. "Yeshua offered to wear the "sores of the Lord Jesus on his body" in order to come to terms with the fate of the new Messiah."
"Yeshua?" Kyle narrows his eyes, accidentally pressing harder on the wound. Stan wrinkles up and releases his hand. "The new Messiah?!"
Stan takes another breath and looks up at Kyle. His blue eyes ooze religious humility.
"I'll tell you sometime, okay?" He squeezes Kyle's shoulder. Gives another look and walks around the dazed Broflovski.
There's blood remained on Kyle's shoulder.
Sometimes Stan closes himself off from me, and that's when I get really worried.
Making notches with a knife in the wood calms Kyle down and helps him release the anger inside.
Kyle sometimes wonders how this tree house - even a very large one - can withstand them. Especially considering Cartman's weight.
The tree house belongs to Big Al and Mr. Masochist but they both don't mind when the guys hang out there - they can even get them some cocktails and plaids. Anyway, the wi-fi in the tree house is great and there are outlets, so hanging out here is a regular thing.
Kyle makes another notch with his knife and suddenly says to himself:
"I think Jesus is fucking Stan's brains out."
"You sure it's just brains?" Kenny instantly responds, chuckling into the parka.
Kyle turns around, glaring at Kenny, and Kenny throws up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, but some devils in his eyes keep dancing.
"Jesus is messing with Stan's head for some reason, telling him something about the Messiah."
Cartman hums, taking his eyes off the phone:
"Kyle, I get it, of course, that a poor little Jew like you is very jealous. The Jews betrayed Jesus, and that's why he'll never hang out with you again, so you're pissed, admit it!"
"Shut up, Cartman, it's not about my people at all!"
"Oh, really? What is it then? Everyone knows that Jews can't live in peace if Jesus is having a good time. It's a zelotypia, Kyle!"
"Zelo- what?!" Broflovski wrinkles his nose.
"Zelotypia! Jealousy and envy! "I am jealous of the Lord..."
"What the fuck are you talking about, fatass?!" Kyle barkes.
"Forget it," Kenny interjects, "the other day Father Maxie was reading us bits and pieces of the Bible about jealousy, and fatass got carried away. Look, Kyle, Jesus isn't a bad guy, trust me. I know him myself a bit."
Kyle rolls his eyes:
"I know Jesus isn't a bad guy. It's just this whole situation with Stan..." Kyle unclenches his jaw, exhales. "I think I should just talk to Jesus."
"Will you give him a speech?" Kenny chuckles.
"God, Jews giving a speech to Jesus, that's so gross," Cartman goes back to his phone to tweet about it.
Kyle gets to his feet and adjusts his hat.
And I noticed that you made friends with him lately, so, Jesus, I wanted to ask you to help me. To help get Stan back on track.
Jesus' house is a little dilapidated, and Kyle wonders - doesn't Jesus look after his house at all? He's God's son, though, he probably doesn't care for that at all.
But he cares for Stan, though, for some reason.
Kyle stops nearby, presses his lips together. Tries to calm down.
Broflovski repeats the speech to himself; he wonders if Jesus will understand what he's talking about. Then again, Kenny said Jesus isn't a bad guy. Maybe everything will work out fine. Kyle cheers up, finds courage within, and steps closer to Jesus' house.
The front door of the house suddenly opens, and Kyle instinctively hides behind a tree.
Stan walks out of the house. He looks tired and his hair is a mess, but he has a faint blush on his cheeks.
Jesus sees him off at the threshold, and just as Stan finishes putting on his hat, Jesus pulls Stan closer and kisses him on the neck.
Kyle blinks slowly. His head begins to throb mercilessly.
Stan lazily wriggles out of the embrace and steps away; Jesus closes the door behind him.
Kyle sees Stan off with glazed eyes; the buzzing in his head doesn't subside. Kyle quickly traverses the yard in a few steps, walks to the door, and knocks loudly.
Kyle has a knife in his hand.