South Park Shorts

Nintendo 64

Look who's publishing again 😛

Based off the song "Nintendo 64" by Alex G

Warnings: Suicide, Self harm, Overdosing

So, here's how it went.

It was the last class of the day, language arts, which was like a free class since we never really did anything; and when we did it would always be something short and easy. So, as usual, me and my best friend, Stan, sat next to each other and talked. But something was off. He's been so closed off lately. I mean, he's always been closed off, but like, he barely speaks anymore. He just stares off with a sadden expression. You'd think I'd be able to point out what it could be since I'm taking psychology, it's my third year of taking that class; so I guess you could say I knew a good amount. But, I don't know. I knew Stan since we were still in diapers, I always know when he's upset and he always came to me for everything. It's weird, he's always given me random items of his or bought me the same one so we could match.

"Oh, nice bracelet!"
I would say.

"Yeah, got it at that new store at the mall!"
Stan would respond, then hand me one still in the packaging the next morning.

But now. It's different.

"Dude, I just realized you've been wearing that same bracelet since we were like ten."
I claimed, with a small chuckle.

"Oh yeah, I guess I would've grown out of it by now." He replied quietly, taking it off his wrist and handing it to me.
"You can have it."

"What? No, Stan. That bracelet has been through hell and back with you, I can't just take it. It clearly means something to you."
I said.

"No, take it."
Stan insisted, starting to lose his patience.

That's something else about him, his temper got shorter, shorter than my temper.

"Stan, you don't have to give it to me."
I confirmed. But then, he grabbed my wrist forcefully then slid the bracelet onto my wrist. I took it off and tried to give it back, but he was already on his way to his next class.

He's been struggling with depression since he turned ten. This, I know for sure. I assumed he was just going through a depressive episode and would feel better soon. You know, like usual.

I cry, just thinking about it. I could've stopped it.

  We sat in language arts, I did most of the talking, like how it usually has been lately. Stan just nodded along, giving me a short response every few minutes. After I was left with nothing else to say, it was silent between us. The other people talking was just background to us; always has been.

Stan started to tear up. He looked away and wiped his eyes.

"Kyle, I'm going to kill myself tonight. And there's nothing you can do to stop it."
He said. I stared at him in shock, this wasn't at all like him.

"And you wanna know how I'm going to do it?"
He asked, he stared directly at me. I can't remember the last time I got a good look of his face. He stared at me. And stared, and stared, and stared. His eyes were turning red again, his eyes filled with tears again, preparing to spill.
"I'm going to grab that giant knife in the kitchen, you know what one I'm talking about."
Stan started with a small laugh.
"I'll cut my wrists so much, and so deep that they won't ever stop bleeding. Then, I'm going to take all the pills I can. I'll look at myself in the mirror as my mouth starts to foam, and I'll overdose."

I, myself, began to tear up. How do you respond to such a hideous thing as that? How to you respond to something so outrageous, crazy, and yet so heartbreaking as that? I felt a droplet of water roll down my cheek, I didn't do anything to stop the tears from flowing. I gently placed my shaking hand on top of his. His hand. Filled with chunky silver rings and his skin rough from working on mechanics; before he quit.

"Stan, don't."
I said to him. I needed him to stop. He didn't think this through. He doesn't understand how altered the world would be without him here. How many adventures I wouldn't be able to go on without him. Stan doesn't understand, and I don't think he ever will. Just like how I don't understand him and his choices. And now, I'll never know. I'll never understand. What did Stan do to deserve a headspace like this? To be able to sit there, in the middle of eighth period and be able to tell your best friend of thirteen years that you're going to kill yourself.

He removed his hand from under mine and begins taking his rings off, along with his stupid ass crystal bracelets he wore everyday. He didn't believe in crystals or whatever, he just thought they were cool. Anyways, he takes off his jewelry and sets them on my desk.

"I know you always liked my jewelry."
He simply stated.
"When I die, I want you to have my old Nintendo Sixty-Four as well. You've wanted one since we were kids."

  Before I could respond, before I could process what he just said and stared at him in surprise and some agony, the bell rings. He just grabs his bag and walks away like nothing happened. Like he didn't just tell me his suicidal dream.

  I knew his mom wouldn't be home tonight. She started a new job to get more money and now working night shifts. And he doesn't live with his dad anymore, Randy and Sharon split up when we were in seventh grade. Also Shelley wasn't there, she's in college now. So, Stan was home alone, and he was going to kill himself.

  Right when I entered my home, I searched through my contacts to find Stan's mom. I had to do something. It didn't even ring once before it went to voicemail. I forgot she got a new number since Randy was still trying to contact her. I was left with no other choice. I drop my backpack and get into my car. I practically speed to his house though it was walking distance.

  I stop my car and pound on the door to his house. I've been going here since I was a kid. After pounding on the door for who knows how long, I realized that he's not going to answer. Sharon keeps the spare key in the mailbox by their door. There's another mailbox at the end of their driveway so it's never being used. I quickly reach my hand in the old mailbox and grab the spare key, unlocking the door as fast as possible and running in. I look around, trying to find Stan and save him before it's too late. It's logical that he would be in his room or the bathroom. But I wasn't thinking logically for once. I was frantic.

  When I get to the bathroom, I try opening it but it was locked. There was no light coming from underneath the door. I knock.

"Stan? Stan are you in there?"

  I try opening the door again, I could tell there was something in the way. I start to cry, begging for a simple response.

"Stan! Open the fucking door!"
I scream, now viciously and aggressively kicking the door.

  I don't remember much after that. It's a blur. It's the middle of winter, so it's starting to get dark out already.

  When I come back to reality, I hear ambulance sirens, I see the colors from the window. Sharon comes home early, I flung into her arms and cry. She's crying too. She was always like a second mother to me, always will be.

  We stand in the living room, we see some paramedics wheel away a body bag. They stop before us. We lean over to take a look.

Stan.

  His eyes were slightly opened, some foam still on his mouth and chin. He was pale. Irregularly pale. I knew he was dead, but I couldn't believe it. If I could, I would've denied it. I still can't even say it out loud.

  We cry even more, hugging each other even tighter when they zip up the rest of the body bag. They give us sympathetic looks before wheeling his body out the house.

  And now, I'm sitting on my basement floor, playing with the old Nintendo Sixty-Four.