Categories > Cartoons > South Park > Through the Cracks
Butters sat on his bed, hugging his knees, furrowing his brow. The more thought he gave the matter, the more he felt his stomach twisting up on him. He flopped onto his back and stared blankly, hoping for sleep. I'll think better if I can just get a little shuteye. The silence was oppressive and forced his mind to invent sounds to hear. It sounded like footsteps coming from everywhere. Shadows taunted the eyes that could not close.
"It sure is spooky at night," Butters whispered to himself, needing to hear a human voice. "That shadow there almost looks like…" Butters jumped in surprise to see a crouching silhouette on his windowsill. In a reflex, Butters inhaled deeply to scream, but covered his face with his pillow in an attempt at protecting himself from the intruder, and from awakening his parents.
"Do not fear me, Butters," rasped the voice. The body was a child's, cloaked and masked, with a green question mark springing from the crown of his head.
This was a command that even obedient Butters could not follow. "Who are you? Are you a ghost or somethin'? Why are you h-here?" he squeaked, still hiding partially behind his pillow.
The boy in the window replied, "I am Mysterion. I know many things, for I walk in darkness. I know many secrets, the nameless terrors that cannot be spoken."
His explanation did little to calm Butters, who was already frightened of his guest's appearance; now he had to be afraid of that the boy knew. "You know my secret?" Only one secret came to mind: the one he kept in the closet. He knows that I am Professor Chaos. It's too bad he'll find himself the victim of a terrible misfortune. I'll offer him some iced tea with sugar, but give him salt instead! Butters' voice was a little coarser when he added, "I suppose it was only a matter of time before my secret identity was revealed."
"Yes, I know all about your secret identity. But that is not the reason for my presence."
"It ain't?" He felt like mild-mannered Butters again at this news. A little bit of the Professor's boldness remained, prompting Butters to ask, "What secret do you know about?"
"I am here about your uncle."
"Son of a biscuit!" Butters turned away, fearing the worst. "I really got myself in a pickle talking about Uncle Bud." He covered his mouth, fearful that even saying his uncle's name was off-limits. "I'm sorry!"
Mysterion's eyes were nearly lost in shadow, but there was a flicker of sadness. "No. You are not the one who should be sorry. Your bastard uncle is."
"What do you mean?"
"I know you well, Butters. Lies aren't part of your nature, and neither is filth." Discussing the situation in words that would make sense to Butters wasn't easy, particularly when trying to keep up his austere image.
"My uncle was helping me with my medicine. I said it was somethin' dirty, but my Uncle Bud wouldn't d-do nothin' dirty." Butters echoed, still concerned about the possible consequences of his words.
"Forget your uncle; forget your parents. Hell, forget me. I'm asking you. Did it feel dirty?"
Butters crawled across his bed, inching closer to the other boy, who was perched like a caped gargoyle. "Yes." In this answer, there was no doubt. The weight of this epiphany plummeted down on him. No longer could something as simple as the act of offering help be trusted outright. When Butters raised his head, trying to meet Mysterion's eyes, he could see nothing but the cloaked silhouette. Mysterion, however, was met with the face of a child whose innocence had been damaged. It pained Mysterion, who had shed his innocence layer by layer at the hands of his own family, but he could not remember ever being as delicate as Butters. Seeing the boy wide-eyed and confused, Mysterion reminded himself over and over that he was not the cause of Butters' distress, but was shouldered with the task of showing Butters the concern that no one else in his world would.
Several moments of silence passed as Butters tried to process. "It don't matter what Mom and Dad say?"
"Only as much as you let it matter. What matters most is knowing that it wasn't your fault."
Even in the wake of discovering how deeply his uncle had betrayed him, Butters couldn't help but put his trust in the unknowable figure watching over him. "Mister Sterion, Uncle Bud is visiting us tomorrow. What do I do when my parents want me to say sorry to him?"
Mysterion had to steady himself to avoid revealing his shock and disgust with the idea that Butters would be made to apologize to his attacker. "That uncle of yours needs to be put in his place."
"Where's that?"
"I mean he should be punished. And your parents won't have a say in it."
Butters had hoped for a simple phrase he could say to his uncle to make the problem disappear. This was starting to sound like something dangerous that would only cause him more trouble later. Besides, his uncle had spent so much time being a good uncle to him. "Uh, I dunno. I don't wanna upset nobody."
"I won't make your decisions for you; it's too bad your uncle didn't show the same compassion. Only if you are ready for my help will I offer it." Seeing that Butters' only response was to lower his gaze and rub his knuckles together, Mysterion shook his head solemnly. "So be it. But should you find yourself in danger, I am never far away." The boy whisked his cape and took a fearless leap from the ledge.
He oughta be careful. He could get himself killed trying something like that. Once outside the window, the dark figure seemed to have vanished completely. In the midst of Mysterion's daring leap, something else caught Butters' eye. If he had blinked, he'd have missed it. On the back of Mysterion's waistband were two letters scribbled in marker. "K.M.? I wonder what that means. King Mysterion? He didn't look much like a king to me."
Butters slipped back into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. The bed felt more inviting now. He was sure that when his uncle arrived, Butters could sit down to talk about it with him and life would go on. "I'll tell him that was bad, what he did, but I forgive him." The boy was satisfied with this, and was hopeful about the following day. "I'm glad King Mysterion came to see me. Even though he is a l-little scary." Butters had many questions and few answers. Yet, there was a strong, protective quality to his visitor. That was enough to let Butters ease into a dreamless sleep.
"It sure is spooky at night," Butters whispered to himself, needing to hear a human voice. "That shadow there almost looks like…" Butters jumped in surprise to see a crouching silhouette on his windowsill. In a reflex, Butters inhaled deeply to scream, but covered his face with his pillow in an attempt at protecting himself from the intruder, and from awakening his parents.
"Do not fear me, Butters," rasped the voice. The body was a child's, cloaked and masked, with a green question mark springing from the crown of his head.
This was a command that even obedient Butters could not follow. "Who are you? Are you a ghost or somethin'? Why are you h-here?" he squeaked, still hiding partially behind his pillow.
The boy in the window replied, "I am Mysterion. I know many things, for I walk in darkness. I know many secrets, the nameless terrors that cannot be spoken."
His explanation did little to calm Butters, who was already frightened of his guest's appearance; now he had to be afraid of that the boy knew. "You know my secret?" Only one secret came to mind: the one he kept in the closet. He knows that I am Professor Chaos. It's too bad he'll find himself the victim of a terrible misfortune. I'll offer him some iced tea with sugar, but give him salt instead! Butters' voice was a little coarser when he added, "I suppose it was only a matter of time before my secret identity was revealed."
"Yes, I know all about your secret identity. But that is not the reason for my presence."
"It ain't?" He felt like mild-mannered Butters again at this news. A little bit of the Professor's boldness remained, prompting Butters to ask, "What secret do you know about?"
"I am here about your uncle."
"Son of a biscuit!" Butters turned away, fearing the worst. "I really got myself in a pickle talking about Uncle Bud." He covered his mouth, fearful that even saying his uncle's name was off-limits. "I'm sorry!"
Mysterion's eyes were nearly lost in shadow, but there was a flicker of sadness. "No. You are not the one who should be sorry. Your bastard uncle is."
"What do you mean?"
"I know you well, Butters. Lies aren't part of your nature, and neither is filth." Discussing the situation in words that would make sense to Butters wasn't easy, particularly when trying to keep up his austere image.
"My uncle was helping me with my medicine. I said it was somethin' dirty, but my Uncle Bud wouldn't d-do nothin' dirty." Butters echoed, still concerned about the possible consequences of his words.
"Forget your uncle; forget your parents. Hell, forget me. I'm asking you. Did it feel dirty?"
Butters crawled across his bed, inching closer to the other boy, who was perched like a caped gargoyle. "Yes." In this answer, there was no doubt. The weight of this epiphany plummeted down on him. No longer could something as simple as the act of offering help be trusted outright. When Butters raised his head, trying to meet Mysterion's eyes, he could see nothing but the cloaked silhouette. Mysterion, however, was met with the face of a child whose innocence had been damaged. It pained Mysterion, who had shed his innocence layer by layer at the hands of his own family, but he could not remember ever being as delicate as Butters. Seeing the boy wide-eyed and confused, Mysterion reminded himself over and over that he was not the cause of Butters' distress, but was shouldered with the task of showing Butters the concern that no one else in his world would.
Several moments of silence passed as Butters tried to process. "It don't matter what Mom and Dad say?"
"Only as much as you let it matter. What matters most is knowing that it wasn't your fault."
Even in the wake of discovering how deeply his uncle had betrayed him, Butters couldn't help but put his trust in the unknowable figure watching over him. "Mister Sterion, Uncle Bud is visiting us tomorrow. What do I do when my parents want me to say sorry to him?"
Mysterion had to steady himself to avoid revealing his shock and disgust with the idea that Butters would be made to apologize to his attacker. "That uncle of yours needs to be put in his place."
"Where's that?"
"I mean he should be punished. And your parents won't have a say in it."
Butters had hoped for a simple phrase he could say to his uncle to make the problem disappear. This was starting to sound like something dangerous that would only cause him more trouble later. Besides, his uncle had spent so much time being a good uncle to him. "Uh, I dunno. I don't wanna upset nobody."
"I won't make your decisions for you; it's too bad your uncle didn't show the same compassion. Only if you are ready for my help will I offer it." Seeing that Butters' only response was to lower his gaze and rub his knuckles together, Mysterion shook his head solemnly. "So be it. But should you find yourself in danger, I am never far away." The boy whisked his cape and took a fearless leap from the ledge.
He oughta be careful. He could get himself killed trying something like that. Once outside the window, the dark figure seemed to have vanished completely. In the midst of Mysterion's daring leap, something else caught Butters' eye. If he had blinked, he'd have missed it. On the back of Mysterion's waistband were two letters scribbled in marker. "K.M.? I wonder what that means. King Mysterion? He didn't look much like a king to me."
Butters slipped back into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. The bed felt more inviting now. He was sure that when his uncle arrived, Butters could sit down to talk about it with him and life would go on. "I'll tell him that was bad, what he did, but I forgive him." The boy was satisfied with this, and was hopeful about the following day. "I'm glad King Mysterion came to see me. Even though he is a l-little scary." Butters had many questions and few answers. Yet, there was a strong, protective quality to his visitor. That was enough to let Butters ease into a dreamless sleep.
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