Thursday, April 19, 2012

"Cartman Rising" Chapter 5: Split



 South Park fanfiction
Rated T for language, some sexuality, and just Cartman in general



Word of my mother's arrest quickly spread through the community. The next day in school, I was "the kid whose mother had been taken away," and all the teachers had lots of sympathy for me. The students were a little bit more suspicious, but all of my partners were too shaken to tell them what really happened.

To "cheer myself up," I invited all the boys in the class over for a guy's night. There was music, there was booze, and Butters was even able to use his influence as a former pimp to hire some hookers (at my request). All in all, a recipe for a good time.

Stan, Kyle and I sat down on the couch, watching the girls strut their stuff. Stan turned to me and said, "You know, Cartman, you're still an asshole, but you can throw a great party."

"I'll say," moaned Kenny, just walking up. He was already visibly more drunk than the rest of us, and his fly was still unzipped from…whatever it was he had just been doing.

"Hey, Ken, you're flashing everyone," I pointed out, then laughed as he clumsily tried to fix it.

I looked over at Kyle, who looked determined to have as little fun as possible. "Hey, Kyle," I said, "About the other day…I just wanted to let you know that I don't hold it against you that you walked out on my meeting. To be frank, it meant a lot to me that you showed up at all. So…no hard feelings, right?"

Kyle cracked a rare smile, as if all our constant arguing were just a big joke. "No hard feelings. I'm not mad at you, Cartman, it's just that…" He looked around and, with a genuine look of embarrassment on his face, chuckled, "I'm just always lost at these kinds of parties."

I laughed. Ah, so the Jew seeks love. Or the closest thing he can feel to love. "Well, we can fix that. Mercedes!" One of the hookers walked over. "A lap dance for my fine young friend here," I ordered, handing her a five dollar bill. Mercedes immediately slipped sensuously into Kyle's lap, while the three of us watched. Stan in particular, becoming more intoxicated by the minute, cheered Kyle on enthusiastically.

"Hey Stan, you look like you could use some company, too," I said. "Lexus!" A tall, red-haired girl sauntered up to Stan. Stan's pesky inhibitions kicked in: "Uh, no thanks, I've got a girlfr—"

"Shh, honey," purred Lexus. "Don't use the G-word."

"Don't worry about it, Stan," I said. "It's just a lap dance, it's not like you're having sex with her. Besides, it's a guys' party; I'm sure Wendy would understand. And Lexus is the cream of Butters' crop: the very best."

"Yeah, go for it, Stan," Kyle absentmindedly agreed, his eyes still glued on Mercedes.

Stan's objections stuck in his throat, as Lexus worked her magic.



Later that night, after everyone had left, I sat in my room, thinking. I had not enjoyed myself nearly as well as I had hoped. Parties were well, and all, but all I could think of was how my schedule was currently at a standstill because I still needed Wendy on the team.

Wendy…the more I thought about her, the angrier I became. It made me so mad that Stan had her; she deserved so much better than that puss. And it was clear he didn't value their relationship as much as he should. I saw him with those hookers; when Lexus began dancing, it didn't take him long to become completely taken in with her. Now, any straight guy can fall for Lexus's charms, I admit, but dammit, a real man would have tried harder to resist. I would have, if I had a girl like Wendy. And it was also clear, from the look of awe on Stan's face, that he had never had that kind of intimacy with anyone, let alone Wendy.

I pulled out my phone, and began to text Wendy: Hey, ho, you know where Stan is? I need to ask him about History homework.

After about five minutes, a response came in: Cartman, it's 2 in the morning. Why would I know where Stan is?

Further evidence that they weren't intimate; spending the night with Stan wasn't a regular, or even occasional, occurrence, it seemed. Well, he was pretty tipsy when he left my house earlier, so I just thought you might have picked him up.

Stan was drunk? The fact that even a drunken Stan wouldn't have sought out sex with her must have been at least a little bit of a shock. As it ought to have been.

I replied: Well, yeah, he was just at a party. Didn't he tell you that?

It took a while for her response to come in: No, he didn't. A major blunder for old Stan. I could just picture Wendy sitting on her bed in her pajamas, fuming.

Well, I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about. It was mostly just us guys there, I lied. Now, would she pick up on the guys, and think he might be gay, or would she pick up on the mostly, and think about what other girls were there?

Who else was there? Suspicious of other girls it was.

Just some of Butters' hos. No big deal. I don't think anything too bad happened.

I waited about fifteen minutes for her to reply. Finally, she texted back: Cartman, I have to go to bed now. I guess she had decided that she didn't want to know what might have happened, but she was now convinced that something had happened.

I was ready to act against my former friends. Stan would be the first.



Ike's first task as my partner was to hack Stan's facebook account. He had had some qualms about this, since I had told all of them that I would be handling all of the revenge stuff. I promised him that all he had to do was get me in, and I would take care of the rest. Eventually, he agreed.

I immediately rejected the idea of taking over his facebook and engineering their breakup that way. It would be too obvious that it was someone else, and I couldn't risk it. So I simply waited, keeping a very close eye on private messages between him and Wendy.

About two weeks after my house party, Wendy finally arranged a date with Stan at Whistlin' Willy's. She had been somewhat distant with him during this time, like she was waiting for him to ask her out, and he had been completely oblivious to the fact (at least, if he had noticed, he hadn't addressed it over facebook). All of which worked in my favor. I took careful note of when the date was, then I called Butters to find out how I could get in touch with Lexus.



I arrived at Whistlin' Willy's about fifteen minutes before Stan and Wendy were scheduled to show up, and picked a small booth I could casually observe from. When the couple came through, Wendy looked positively sour. She had obviously dressed up well for the occasion; she had on a beautiful dress, and just enough makeup to emphasize her natural eyes and cheeks. She looked, if I may say so, extremely sexy. Stan looked somewhat cheerful, but he was dressed far more casually; it was clear he wasn't taking this date as seriously as he needed to.

They sat down, and made polite conversation for a while, although it was too noisy for me to hear what they were saying. Wendy slowly became more and more irritated with Stan's flippancy, while he continued to not notice. I decided that it was time, and texted Lexus to come in.

She walked—no, glided—in, wearing an outfit I had personally selected, deeming it sexy, but casual enough that it could have been worn on accident. She passed by Stan's table, and with a look of surprise that could have convinced even me, she called out, "Oh, hi Stan," then she continued to casually make her way to the bar. Perfect.

Stan's cheeks went red as she spoke, no doubt from the recollection of her lap dance. "Hi, Lexus," he managed to get out, then he turned back to his date. That was when he finally noticed Wendy's expression, which was now purple with rage. I watched him mentally put together what had just happened; he had just said hello in a familiar way to an scantily dressed girl while on a date with his girlfriend, who was already suspicious of him. Then, and only then, did the look of realization and horror at his mistake spread across his face.



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