My name is Kenny McCormick and I have a secret. Actually I have two secrets, but I'll get to that later. My first secret is that I'm actually a girl. Now you're probably wondering why I have a boy's name. It's pretty simple, my parents suck. They're both redneck drunks who had already decided they were having a boy before I was born. Then when I turned out to be a girl they were too lazy to pick another name. So for my first few years of life I was constantly mistaken as a boy and my parents were always too drunk or too high to correct them.
I don't mind though, I actually enjoy pretending to be a boy. I tried being a girl once, the first day of preschool. I had managed to pinch a small dress from my mum's closet and I pulled my hair into two pigtails. I walked into the room full of kids nervously twirling my hair around my finger. I had never really been around other kids my age. We lived on the side of town where not many kids lived. A nice looking girl with black hair walked up to me.
"Hey I'm Wendy. What's your name?" she asked eagerly. I anxiously smiled back.
"I'm Ke-Um Jenny" I choked out not wanting to be teased about my name.
"You wanna hang out with me and my friends, Jenny?" she asked encouragingly. I nodded and followed her to a group of girls. I spent the rest of the day with the girls. But no matter how hard I had tried I couldn't enjoy myself. Nothing they did interested me. All they talked about was dolls and tea parties. I found myself watching what the boys were doing instead. They were playing with toy trucks and knocking over buildings made out of blocks. It reminded me of the games I play at home with my big brother. We're always mucking around breaking stuff. So I excused myself from the group and went over to the boys.
"Hey" I mumbled looking at the ground shyly. A fat boy frowned at me and crossed his arms.
"What do you want?" he asked, his tone judging. Some of the other boys looked up from what they were doing to watch the confrontation.
"I-I just wanted to see if I could play with you guys" I stuttered. Why was he glaring at me? Had I done something wrong?
"No! You're a girl and only boys can hang with us! Go back to your dollies!" the fat boy hissed. The other boys were silent, just staring at me like I was some foreign species. I turned around and headed to the bathroom tears flowing down my cheeks. I don't know why I was so upset, maybe because I felt so alone. I didn't fit in with the girls and the boys wouldn't accept me. Was I doomed to a life of loneliness?
Noone came after me and eventually, after the tears had stopped, I climbed out the bathroom window not wanting to return to that awful classroom. On my way home I thought about what that fat boy had said. Only boys can hang out with us. I stopped, an idea forming. Everyone had always mistaken me for a boy before, it wouldn't be that hard to fool them. I wouldn't even have to change my name! When I got home I was excited by the idea of hanging out with the boys the next day. I messily cut my hair into a spiky blonde mess and raided my brothers closet. I found an orange parka that obscured most of my face and matching pants. I added a scarf to the outfit and looked at my reflection satisfied. Noone would think I was a girl now!
And that's how my persona of Kenny McCormick the boy began. The boys had completely bought my disguise and my voice was so muffled in the parka that they never seemed to notice that my voice was much higher than theirs. As the years went on I continued to wear a signature orange parka, buying new ones as I grew. I continued cutting my hair short so that even when my hood would come down noone suspected a thing. Life was great, I enjoyed spending time with the boys much more than the girls. Everything in my life was perfect.
Well except one thing. And this brings me to my second secret. I can't die. Well actually that's not exactly true. I sure as hell can die, in fact I die all the time. But I just can't stay dead. I don't know if it's a curse or just some sick joke of god's, all I know is it sucks. Now I know what you're probably thinking, "But not being able to die would be cool" Let me tell you, it's not. It fucking hurts! That's not even the worst part. I'd probably be able to endure that pain if it wasn't for the fact that nobody remembers. Even if I get decapitated right in front of their eyes! I just wake up in my bed the next day, wearing my same old clothes. Then when they see me they're just like, "Oh hey Kenny" like nothing even happened!
I realised I had this curse when I was pretty young. It's like death follows me around or something, just waiting for a dangerous situation to kill me in. The first death that I can remember was my fourth birthday. My parents bought me a kiddy pool, and by that I mean they stole an old one from one of our neighbours. But I didn't mind, being in a family as poor as mine I would take what I could get. I played in the thing all day, but it wasn't until my parents went inside that it happened. It was like a force was pulling me under, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe. My lungs were on fire, the pain was unbearable. Finally I gasped in a breath of water and the pain went away. That time I went to purgatory, a sort of limbo between heaven and hell, I guess back then they didn't really want to send a four year old to hell. But that's where I usually go now. Sure I've been to heaven a few times, but I always come back. No matter what.
I've realised that the longer it takes for me to die, the longer it takes for me to come back. There was this one time in fourth grade when I had a terminal illness. Supposedly I'd had it for months but I hadn't known. I had noticed the lack of deaths those months, foolishly thinking perhaps my curse had ended. Little did I know, death was just patiently waiting for the finale. Eventually Death's wait was over and I lay in a hospital bed knowing the end was neigh. This was one of the only deaths that I saw my friends and family mourn. Sure I'd had funerals before, but this time people were actually crying while I was still here. Even that fat asshole Cartman cried for me. That time I was in hell for months. I spend most of my time in hell hanging out with Damien, the son of Satan. He's become my death companion. Every time I go to hell he'll just chuckle and mutter "Back so soon? I'll get you a room".
When I did eventually come back, all Kyle said was, "Hey Kenny, where you been?"
I repressed a sigh as I replied, "Oh just around"
So there you have it, now you know all about me. Now I can tell you my story. The story of how both my secrets became known.