I Could Just Be Happy

I think I'll Do Just About Anything For You

Fuzzy disclaimer: This story will contain music with it that I wrote to. I hope you enjoy! This has been recently updated

*Carman's Pov*

I groaned as I heard my door squeak open and my mother speak softly.

"Oh Poopykins. Time to wakey wakey."

I yawned and sat up. "I'm up, Mam."

I saw a pleased smile spread acrossed her face and she left the room. I rubbed my eyes and turned on the lights.

The first things I see are the pictures of my birthday parties. All coming up from the fourth grade to now. I see my four main buddies and well Butters. I can't forget that little bastard.

In all photos, Kyle and Stan standing next each other, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders and a rather large smiles. I hate those pictures, because Kyle has never shown that kind of friendship or affection for me. I know, 'no wonder, cause you pick on him and call him a Jew!'

Well I call it like I see it. He is Jewish. I joke with him about it, shut up. It's kind of sweet to see him get so angry and passionate about it whenever I bring it up.

But I just wish he liked me a bit more. Wanted me to be around more like I want him around him all the time. But, I am no Stan Marsh. The boy that now and has always stood in the way of me showing my feelings. Cause Kyle loves Stan and Stan loves Kyle and nothing and I mean nothing can pull those assholes apart. Although it's good to see Kyle so happy, I just wish it was me making him this happy.

I wish I could be the one that can, but I've tried and everytime, I get nothing from it. But now, for three years they have been dating. But they still act the same, one gives gay as fuck speeches and the other awes over them. Sometimes I just wish I could be the one to awe over those gay speeches.

I yawn and walk away from the pictures and hop in the shower and guess what guys!

I'm still a fucking fat piece of shit.
No wonder Kyle doesn't like me physically. I still look like I did in the fourth grade, maybe even a little bit fatter.

Well little of an understatement.
So now I wash myself and get lost in the thought of Kyle.

Let's ponder that together shall we?
He has a perfect red jew-fro and it has perfect curls, his stunningly green eyes that look like south park's trees in the summer and his fucking freckled face. It looks the best in the summer when he gets a tan, they pop out more.
I am shaken from my thoughts when I hear mam calling and saying that I'll be late. I turn off the shower and nearly bust my ass falling out of the shower.

I put on a blue tee then my red jacket, some pants and my regular hat. Yeah, I know. I've changed so much throughout the years. I slip on my shoes and look at the time.

6:39 am, friday. I jump and run down the steps, I'm gonna be hella late. I run into the kitchen and pick up a strawberry pop tart. I unwrap it and start to run out of the house, eating it. I do make it to the bus stop on time. A little early too. Maybe I got here too quick. I keep working on my second poptart.

I see Kenny in his little orange parka from fourth grade. He still wears it everyday. It is way too small for him to put his hood up so now his face shows and he can be heard.

His blue eyes shine, his blond locks blow in the winter air and his skin is still as tan as ever. He notices me and gives me a normal sly smile.

"Mornin' Fatass."

I grunt and chew up my next bite and then speak. "Morning, Poor boy."

Then I look at Stan and Kyle. Stan has his head on top of Kyle's shoulder and Kyle is staring up at the snow as it falls. Stan notices me and smiles and waves. I feel a light burn of jealousy show and I flip him off. Kyle seems to not take well to this and starts our daily argument.