South Park fanfiction
Mr. Garrison handed out our tests, all the while ranting on and on about his new boyfriend, and how he wasn't sensitive enough, and blah blah blah. Please...if there's one thing we care about less than a book about a retard, a psycho, and the only person able to control the rest of the family, it's about Garrison's gay problems.
I finished my test in no time, and got out the stack of flyers I had brought to school. I checked over them to make sure they had all the information on them.
Don't miss the opportunity of a lifetime!
Join Cartman's Brotherhood, a brand new corporation dedicated to victory and success!
First meeting today at 4:00, at the Cartman residence.
Looks good. I slipped Stan, Kyle, and Kenny each a flyer. They're still too busy on their tests to acknowledge it, but they'll come; they don't really have a choice. They knew that I always had the best ideas. And Kyle, especially, can't resist good ideas. He'll leech onto anything that benefits him, especially if it involves money that he can hoard.
English class let out, and I started wandering around the school, looking for all my old buddies from elementary school so I could make sure they knew about the meeting.
I spotted Craig Tucker smoking in the bathroom. He'd gotten a lot taller over the summer, and he was still extremely thin. He was almost pale enough to be a Goth kid, but I knew better. Goths loved being miserable, because it made them feel better about themselves. "No one understands my pain," and all that.
But Craig…he just doesn't give a shit about anything. He's probably the only guy I know who doesn't even bat an eye if you insult his mom. True to form, he barely even acknowledged me as I walked in.
"Hey, there's a meeting going on at my house after school. You need to be there."
He stared at me. "Why?"
"Because it's important."
"But I hate you."
I put my hand on his shoulder, and he looked at it like it was a snake. "Craig, we shouldn't let a thing like hate get in the way of fame and power. I hate Kyle, but I still invited him."
He considered that, and then finally said, "Whatever," and snatched the flyer out of my hand.
As the school day went on, I continued to hand out my flyers. I don't think I heard a word any of the teachers said. But then again, I didn't need to; I had bigger goals in mind.
I found the crippled kids, Timmy Birch and Jimmy Valmer, in drama class. They were looking over lines for a play or something.
Jimmy started out. "T-to b-be or n-n-not to b-b-buh-b-b-beeeeh, to be, that is the que, the question, ww-w-whether 'tis nobler—"
"TIMMEH! Timmeh timmeh, livin' a lah, timmehhh!"
Hehehe, retards. But even retards deserve a chance at success, so I walked up to them and handed them each a flyer.
"Oh, hi Eric," Jimmy stuttered. "W-what did you think?"
"Our s-solil-loquies. Timmy's going to m-make a f-fan-fantastic Macbeth, wouldn't you s-say?"
"Oh, yeah. Nobody can put on a play like you guys," I snickered. Timmy gave a little spastic half-bow.
"Well, anyway, there's a meeting going on at my house later. I hope you guys can make it."
"Oh, s-sure, Eric. Wouldn't m-miss it."
'Timmeh," Timmy agreed.
I was about to leave when Tweek Tweak stepped into the room. He looked out of breath and really nervous. More nervous than he usually looked, that is. The guy was a caffeine time bomb. He probably bled coffee, and I can only imagine what horrors that wreaked on his metabolism.
"Oh Jesus! Ahh! No, no, I can't do it! I can't do drama class!" He turned to run back out. I guess he had spent all this time debating whether to go to class or not.
"Whoa, calm down, Tweek. Drama class isn't so bad. Look, even Jimmy and Timmy are making the most of it," I said. I pointed him towards Jimmy, who was now practicing a speech from Othello. Retard: everyone knows that Token had to play Othello.
"Well, I guess it won't be too bad, then," Tweek twitched.
"By the way," I said, handing him a flyer, "stop by my house later today. I'm getting all the guys together for a meeting."
"Oh, no way, man! Going to one of your meetings is WAY too much pressure! We'll get into all sorts of trouble!"
"Relax, Tweek," I said. "I just want you to listen to what I have to say, and if it's too much pressure, than you can just leave."
Tweek thought about it, taking a few sips of coffee from his thermos. "Well, I guess so. Gah!"
Ok, that's Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Craig, Jimmy, Timmy, and Tweek. That leaves—
"Hey, Eric," came a pleasant southern voice from behind me. I turned around and saw, as expected, Butters.
Leopold "Butters" Stotch was an interesting guy to have around. What's so good about him is that he's very moldable. Put him next to someone kind and understanding, and he's a great, caring guy to be around. Put him next to someone with more ambition and determination (like me), and he follows so closely that he is a force to be reckoned with. And he absolutely adores me; he'd probably run around the school naked and let Mr. Garrison molest him if I told him to (not that I would, as funny as that might be).
Unfortunately, there is a catch. He's a parasite; his adoration of me demands that he follow me around wherever I go. I mean, it's nice to have someone who praises me all the time, but…he's not very bright, and sometimes I need to rely on followers with a little more brains.
Overall, though, he's a good guy to have nearby. He's loyal, and that's what's important. Besides, he's one of the few people that is necessary for the plan.
"Hey, Butters," I said. "You have a good summer?"
"Oh, yeah, it was neat-o!" Butters bubbled. "Stan and Kyle were really nice; they actually helped me pay for our beach trip." Then he looked at his feet and rubbed his knuckles together. "When we got back my parents grounded me."
So Butters had become my replacement in Kyle's little kingdom, eh?
"Aw, that's too bad, Butters. I'm sorry you had to go and see Stan and Kyle groping over each other and making out on the beach. I probably would have puked."
"Well, it wasn't that ba—" He suddenly paled. "Wait, you mean…they're gay?"
God, if I told Butters that the dictionary had his picture next to the entry for "gullible," the guy would actually look it up to check it anyway.
"No, Butters, they're not actually gay. They're just as close as two heterosexual boys can get." Granted, I could certainly see how some people could look at Stan and Kyle and think they were gay. But I know them, and they're definitely just best friends. Besides, Stan has Wendy, so he's definitely straight.
Kyle, though, has never had a girlfriend, and some people think he's gay because of that. The truth is, he has no room in his heart for love. It's all black and full of greed.
"Ohhh…" Butters murmured.
"Now, Butters, I want you to come by my place after school. I'm having a meeting there, and I need you there so we can talk."
"Huh? Talk about what?" Butters asked.
"The future," I said, with a flourish. And with that, I left him standing in the hallway.
Butters just gaped. "Wow…" he finally moaned in awe.
"Why would I want to go to your meeting?" Clyde Donovan asked.
"Because I'm cool," I explained. "And hanging around me is guaranteed to make you more popular. Bebe will love you even more."
Clyde frowned. He did like being popular.
"All I'm want is one little meeting," I pleaded. "Surely, that isn't too much to ask?"
Kevin Stoley twirled his lightsaber key chain fob, weighing the choice between listening to one of my awesome plans, and continuing his Star Wars marathon after school.
"Okay," he finally agreed. "But it had better be good."
Token Black shook his head. "No, I'm not going to go to your little meeting. Why should I?"
"We need you there, Token," I said. "As you may have noticed, everyone else who I've invited to the meeting is white. If you don't come too, we'll all look like a bunch of racists."
Token's eyes narrowed. "But…you ARE racist. Why should I help you?"
"Because all of your friends will be there, including Craig, Tweek, and Clyde. You don't want them to look racist, do you?"
Token was clearly caught. "Ok, fine. But I don't want to hear any of your snide remarks."
I smiled. "Of course not, Token. Now here; have some watermelon."
And now for the last person on the list. I stared at her down the hall, as she talked to her boyfriend outside her locker. Wendy Testaburger: the girl I had loved since I was in elementary school.
She once killed our substitute teacher, Ms. Ellen, because she thought that Ms. Ellen was trying to steal Stan away from her. Almost nobody knew she had done it (Kyle did some snooping around afterwards and found out), but I knew it was her the minute those Arabs rushed into the classroom. It was exactly what I would have done in that situation, and I admired her for it. Sure, her method lacked a little originality, but it was quite ingenious, nonetheless.
One time during a debate, she kissed me in front of the whole town (you should have seen the look on Stan's face). In that moment, I realized why she was so attracted to me: we were exactly the same. Like me, she was smart, cunning, and ruthless. Not only that, but she knew that I was, too. And she wasn't afraid of that.
In truth, Wendy's only flaw was that she cared too much what other people thought. She tried to hide her true feelings under controlled positions of authority and feigned care for the environment. But I knew what she yearned for. She longed to rule the world…and I would be at her side. That's why she needed me: to help her realize that she didn't have to hide who she was.
But I had to ease into it. The last few times I had tried to help her come out of her shell, she had always fought back with denial; she didn't want to admit to her powerful nature. I wouldn't get another chance; I couldn't fuck it up this time.
Stan walked off, and I made my move. "Wendy?"
She turned and looked at me with her beautiful eyes. She frowned. "What do you want?" I sighed; if only she could admit that she loved me, we could both be happy . Instead, I was pining for her, and she was stuck with Stan the pussy.
"I just wanted to invite you to a get-together at my house after school."
She looked at me even more suspiciously. "What do you want?" she asked again. Damn, she was good.
I sighed. "Wendy, we've got one year of high school left. After graduation, we may not see each other again. I…just wanted to make sure we remain on good terms."
Wendy got up in my face. "Cartman, we are NOT on good terms!"
Damn, I have to not be so obvious. "Ho, it's not like I'm trying to change our relationship." Now, let the word "relationship" hang in the air for a moment for subliminal effect. "I just want to make sure things don't get worse between us."
At that, she smirked. "I don't think you need to worry about that."
Ah, a joke. Now she's casually flirting. "Well," I continued, "then I guess I don't have anything to lose." I winked, just for good measure.
She laughed at that for a moment, and then caught herself. "Well, I've already made plans with Stan today, so—"
"That's okay. He should be coming, too."
"Oh." Wendy paused. "Well, maybe." Then she walked off, shaking her head as her emotions viciously fought each other.
"Cartman!" A voice called out from behind me. It was the Jew, with his sidekicks Pussy and Poor Boy.
"What's this I hear about a meeting?" It apparently took them all day to track me down, even though they were the first people I gave flyers to. Stan must have glimpsed Wendy walking away from me, because he looked a little suspicious. But it's no big deal; he and Kyle are always suspicious of me. He's too dim to figure out what's really going on.
"I've called a meeting of all our old friends, so I can tell them my big plans. We're all going to be rich and powerful, Kyle. I guarantee it." On an inspiration, I added, "Oh, and bring your little brother along; he might want to hear what I have to say."
Kyle scoffed and walked off, followed by Stan. Kenny waited a little bit longer, then jogged off after them.
They would come. They wouldn't be able to resist.