South Park and the Stroke of Genius
Story #1 Synopsis: Eric Cartman is at risk of failing the fourth grade. Mr. Garrison tells him that he must complete a remedial assignment and do it well in order to pass, but that would require a stroke of genius from him. How literally will Cartman take Mr. Garrison's advice and how far will he go to pass? Reads like an episode.
"And that concludes my speech on Leonardo DiCaprio's non-existent Oscar conspiracy. Thank you."
Cartman bowed before his classmates with a triumphant grin, clearly considering his presentation a phenomenal work of art. The students regarded each other with quizzical faces and sat in silence, for as usual, they had listened to twenty minutes of absurd and insane trash talk by none other than the racist tub of lard asshole that they all truly hated named Eric Cartman. The sole sound of applause came from Butters, who waved from his desk congratulating him for being so inspirational. Cartman had no doubt paid the poor kid to do so, for Butters was far too innocent and dumb to comprehend what had even just been discussed.
As Cartman walked back to his seat, Mr. Garrison sighed in defeat. "Well, that had absolutely nothing to do with the Russian Revolution, which is what I had asked of you guys to work on, but let's get on with things shall we? Wendy Testaburger, you're up next, please do enlighten us. Oh, and Eric I need to have a word with you after class," he called from his desk.
Cartman rolled his eyes as Wendy made her way to the front of the class and carefully taped her fancy glittery poster to the chalkboard. As she lectured on the events of Bloody Sunday, Tsar Nicholas II's assassination, which gave way to Vladimir Lenin's accumulation of power, who was overthrown by Stalin, and so forth, Cartman muttered snide comments and raised his hand doing the 'blah blah' gesture. When Wendy was finished, she packed up her things while fuming with frustration, and followed her classmates outside to the buses. Cartman was about to leave as well, when Mr. Garrison's voice rung out for him to stay put. He sighed and poked at his chair's wobbly leg in irritation.
When the entire class had left, Mr. Garrison told Cartman to take a seat in front of his desk. Mr. Garrison shuffled some papers then clasped his hands in front of himself on the desk. He stared at Cartman. Cartman blinked and pulled uncomfortably at his red shirt's collar, waiting for his teacher to say something. All Mr. Garrison did was adjust his glasses, and keep staring at him. Cartman cleared his throat, but the teacher just kept staring. Then Cartman decided to break the silence, slamming his fist down on the desk causing Mr. Garrison to jump. Cartman yelled, "Sir, I'm sorry to pry your gaze from my luscious curves, but I was just, you know wondering, what the fuck I'm still doing here!"
Mr. Garrison raised his hands in front of himself as means of caution and spoke calmly. "Eric, relax! I mean of no advancements concerning pedophilia. I just wanted to speak to you about your grades," he said.
Cartman slowly sunk back into his seat and Mr. Garrison took in a deep breath, letting it out in an exasperated sigh. "Eric, I don't know how to tell you this without sparking any kind of intimidation in you, but I'm afraid that you are failing my class. I can see potential in you, considering that you are aware of contemporary world problems just not in the right context. Anyway, I believe that you are capable of persevering at some sort of degree, which is why I am allowing you to do a remedial assignment for this presentation that should boost your grade to a pass if it's done well enough," he explained carefully.
Cartman scrunched up his face as if he had tasted something sour. Was this some kind of retarded joke? Splaying his hands out in front of himself on the other side of the teacher's desk, he sighed as well. "Mr. Garrison you are obviously jealous of my superior intellectual insight concerning today's class discussion, and you are trying to degrade my self-confidence. If failing me is required for you to feel better about yourself, go ahead and do so, because I don't really give a shit," he retorted.
Mr. Garrison shook his head as he replied, "Uhm…no, Eric I don't think you understand. If you fail my class, you will fail the fourth grade and will have to repeat the year."
Cartman's eyes widened and he leapt onto the desk furiously. "Is this some kind of sick joke to you, Sir? Does my intelligence threaten your teaching position that badly that you need to fail me to contempt your misery?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
Mr. Garrison was confused. He stood up, shoving his chair backwards, and yelled back at Cartman. "Eric Cartman, I have had enough of your childish mind games and word twisting. You know damn well that the lifeboat having enough room for Leonardo DiCaprio in the Titanic had nothing to do with the godforsaken Russian Revolution! You are failing on your own accord and so help me will repeat the fourth grade, unless you have a stroke of genius and ace that remedial. Do I make myself clear?" he fumed with anger.
Cartman staggered backwards off the desk and back into his seat, the teacher's words like a gunshot to his chest. There was only one thing left for him to say.
"God damniiiit."
The next morning was bright with a brisk cool breeze in which Stan, Kyle and Kenny made their way down the block and up Cartman's driveway. They were surprised to find Cartman already sitting outside on his front steps. However, the shocking element wasn't him being outdoors, but rather what he was doing outdoors. Cartman sat with a lighter in one hand and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, inhaling deeply and coughing up a storm. Kyle ran up to him and smacked the cigarette out of his mouth. It fell to the ground and Kyle stomped on it with his foot. Outraged at Kyle's nerve, Cartman spat, "Kyle you little prick, what the fuck did you do that for?"
Kyle threw his arms up in aggravation. "What did I do? What the heck are you doing! We've been through this before! We're only ten years old for Christ's sake, there are better things to do than become a health hazard! Where did you get this anyway?" he yelped.
Cartman jabbed his index finger at Kyle's chest. "For your information, I found it in the glove compartment of my mom's car. Since when did you become all mighty and righteous, and give two shits about what I do! Kenny's been more of a friend to me than you've ever been, and if I asked him right now, he'd be fine with the smoking. Right Kenny?" he grumbled angrily.
Kenny shrugged and nodded. Before things could escalate into a fight, Stan stepped in between them. "Back off of Kyle, alright Cartman! What's with the smoking?" Stan questioned nonchalantly, careful not to fuel Cartman's anger.
Cartman turned away from them and sighed, "Given my abundant popularity, you've no doubt been hearing certain rumours concerning my education. I suppose I owe you guys, as my friends, the truth and can confirm those rumours."
Stan, Kyle and Kenny looked at each other stumped. Nobody in the entire town really cared about Cartman, so there was never any kind of talk about him. Cartman only had a sad overestimated perception of his significance and thought that people did. They didn't interrupt Cartman though, since they were curious as to what had happened. Cartman cleared his throat and spoke, "I am at risk of repeating the fourth grade."
The three boys gasped. Cartman slumped back down onto his front steps with his head in his hands. "There's no need to act surprised so that I won't feel bad. The damage caused by society's pressure has already been done," he admitted.
Stan stepped towards him. "We're sorry to hear that Cartman, but…what does that have to do with smoking?" he asked.
Cartman peered between his fingers to regard his friends. "Mr. Garrison said that if I don't have a stroke of genius for my remedial assignment, I won't pass. Smoking and high cholesterol are two of the leading causes for strokes. I figured I'm halfway there, so might as well get to it," he explained.
His friends looked at him in disbelief. Kenny started laughing. Kyle furrowed his brow puzzled and said, "Cartman…you big fat idiot, a 'stroke of genius' is a metaphor that expresses having a sudden grand idea. Mr. Garrison wasn't telling you to actually give yourself a stroke."
Cartman waved his hand in dismissal of Kyle's theory, scoffing, "Kyle I have had enough of you and your Jewish views constantly mocking me. I know what I'm doing and nothing you say is going to fucking stop me. I don't need negative haters like you trying to get me to fail, so you can just mind your own business and get the fuck away from my house."
Kyle balled up his fists in fury, but Stan grabbed his arm pulling him down the driveway. Kenny ran after them. From the street, Stan turned his gaze to Cartman and yelled, "You know god damn well that you are being retarded, Cartman! When you decide to snap out of it and cut the crap, we'll be at my house playing Xbox 1."
Cartman narrowed his eyes at his friends, which he now considered traitors, walking in the distance. He would show them. He would show them all. He would have the most brilliant stroke of genius ever known to humanity and show…them…all.
In front of him sat his computer monitor with an empty document open on its screen. The curser blinked repeatedly, waiting for words to be typed upon its blank surface, but no wisdom came, for Cartman had still not yet had a stroke of genius. Cartman sat with his eyes glazing over the computer screen, his elbow on the desk using his hand to prop up his head. The other hand rested numbly on the computer mouse. Under his eyes were big purple bags from ten hours without sleep, hard at work. Unfortunately, his thinking had no work to show. He still knew nothing about how to have a 'stroke of genius' or the Russian Revolution. Neither one came without the other either, so as of currently he was still screwed.
Cartman balled up his fist and punched the desk. This was an impossible task. He sighed, disappointed in himself. If no creative thoughts would come to mind, he would just have to do this the hard way. Annoyed, he moved the curser over internet explorer and clicked on it. He summed up every ounce of effort he had and typed in Russian Revolution Stroke. Cartman rubbed his eyes in shock, for before him lay a miracle. It just so happened, that one of the main historical figures of the revolution actually died of a stroke and was on display to this day. Cartman wasn't stupid. He knew far too well that stumbling across information like this wasn't just luck, it was fate. He had to go to Russia…tonight. He had a plan and his mind was set. Before he embarked on his journey to Russia, there was just one thing he had to do first. Cartman was going to pay Kenny a visit.
Cartman walked up Kenny's driveway, careful to keep his arms to his sides so as not to come into contact with any rusty trash that could possibly give him some kind of disease. He rang the doorbell, but it was twisted off and hanging loosely, thus giving no sound. He pounded on the door with his fist and an angry red head yanked it open, glowering down at him. She screeched, "Whaddaya want, ya little creep? It's the middle of the night!"
Cartman cleared his throat. "I would like to speak to Kenny, please," he said with as much politeness as he could muster.
Without even waiting for a reply from her, he walked right in yelling for Kenny. Sure enough, he could make out Kenny murmuring through his scarf in the living room. He walked into the room to see Kenny sitting on the couch watching some kind of show. Cartman looked at the flea-ridden couch, and decided to stand. This would be a short visit anyway. He would get the information he needed and leave. Kenny glanced down at Cartman, and Cartman cleared his throat once again to get his full attention. He spoke kindly: "Kenneh, we've been friends for quite some time, and you know I've been nothing but straight forward with you throughout our friendship, so I just want to say what I came here to say."
Kenny awkwardly stared at Cartman and shifted slightly away from him. Cartman had a knack for making inappropriate remarks about his poverty situation, but this seemed deeper. The chubby boy in the blue hat before him had an innocent smile plastered on his face and it was majorly creeping Kenny out. He knew he was about to be involved in something completely retarded and sighed. He murmured 'what' and Cartman took a deep breath. "I want to know how you can come back to life once you've died," he said.
Kenny was astonished. He had tried to show his friends his ability to resurrect himself as Mysterion, but they just wouldn't remember. Cartman hadn't been in the room with them at the time, so he didn't witness his suicides, but it figured that he would be the one to notice after all of this time. Kenny sighed, ready to submit himself to Cartman's inevitable interrogation, even though he still didn't even know himself as to how he came back to life. Cartman arched his eyebrows and continued, "I've seen you Kenneh, don't think you've been hiding it. You do it every day, and you try to act like nothing's happened but it has and I've seen you do it…you watch television shows concerning the afterlife."
Kenny shook his head stunned, but still Cartman continued. "I've seen you watch them all Kenneh! Frankenstein, The Ghost Whisperer, Pushing Daisies, god damnit Kenneh you're obsessed with the dead, which is why I need you now. If anyone knows how to bring the dead back to life, it's you from watching all of this stuff. Now help me Kenneh, tell me what you know," he demanded.
Kenny stared at Cartman, his hope of someone finally acknowledging his constant death to his face fleeting. He started to sob and Cartman patted him on the shoulder. "There, there Kenneh, I won't tell anyone at school. Your creepy addiction to the dead won't make me think any less of you than I already do. Your secret is safe with me," he said reassuringly.
Kenny felt like putting a bullet through his head, but that had already happened to him yesterday, so he just rolled his eyes and looked at Cartman. Cartman smiled, glad that he had Kenny's cooperation. "Now, I need you to tell me how they do it! I don't have time to watch all of this myself, so I need the quick and speedy rendition from you," he pleaded.
Kenny idly picked up the television remote and started flipping through the channels of shows. As Cartman watched the changing images on the screen, Kenny tried to explain how Frankenstein was brought to life through electricity, Melinda only communicated with dead and Ned was a pie maker who only had to touch people to bring them back to life. Cartman nodded, "Mhmm, I see. Now if you don't mind, I shall be on my way. Good day, Kenneh, wish me luck on my way to success."
Kenny waited for Cartman to leave before deciding to shoot himself in the head anyway.
It took all night long planning, but by morning, Cartman had arrived in Russia and was now at the Pantheon to find the body of Lenin. Cartman walked up to the Mausoleum and gazed upon the body,
"You shall live again my friend, for I have devised the ultimate method of revival. Jen, could you just stand over here?"
Jennifer Love Hewitt walked over and stood in Cartman's place. Cartman then placed a pie beside the body, and pulled out a Taser.
"By the power invested in electricity, Jennifer Love Hewitt and pie, I give you life!" he cried.
Nothing happened. Cartman looked around and huffed in embarrassment. He tried it again, but still nothing happened. He was about to storm off when suddenly, Vladimir Lenin sat up and opened his eyes. They were two black holes, but somehow he could still see Cartman nonetheless. His voice boomed. "Who dares disturb my slumber?" he called.
Cartman cleared his throat. "That would be moi, Sir. Now, if you don't mind, with your stroke power and knowledge of the Russian Revolution, please write me a genius paper all about it," he requested.
Lenin jumped out of his tomb in shock. "Oh my goodness, I've forgotten the revolution! I've got to reassure the people!" he cried.
He ran out of the building with Cartman whining at his coattails. "But Siiiiiirrrr, you have to write this noooowwwww," he wailed.
Lenin burst outside and gaped in astonishment. The Russia he knew and loved was no longer there, for the people and the town were somewhat different.
"Well what did you expect? You've been dead for a while now," Cartman, panted beside him.
Lenin shook his head and grabbed the first person he saw by the shoulders. "Fret not! Your leader has returned!" he cried.
It was a woman and she laughed, "That is quite a realistic historic getup you've got going on. I'm sorry, but our leader is Vladimir Putin now."
Lenin blinked, "N-no, I'm afraid you are pronouncing it wrong, it's LEN-in, not PUT-in."
The woman patted him on the shoulder, and smiled, "Of course! You keep on doing that re-enactment of yours. It's quite convincing."
Lenin scratched his head and squinted at Cartman. "I-I don't understand. Who is this Putin?" he asked.
Cartman walked up to him and sighed, "Dude, let's go for a walk."
Cartman relayed the last ninety years of history since his death, not very accurately of course, but nonetheless sufficiently. They walked past a television store, and watched a television through the window. Upon its screen was Putin giving a speech.
"It seems that I will have to deal with this other Vladimir alone. As my last supporter, I do this for you. Long live the Bolsheviks!" Lenin growled, looking grave.
Lenin ran off, leaving Cartman to look down at his red coat in dismay. He rolled his eyes. "Aw shit, well it's not like he can do much harm anyway," he said to himself.
He spoke too soon, for the television screen changed, replacing Putin with a newscaster. Cartman went inside the shop and cocked his head at the screen. The newscaster looked very serious. A caption above him read Breaking News: Vladimir vs. Vladimir. The man spoke in a charismatic yet wary voice:
"We interrupt your daily programming to inform you that Vladimir Lenin has arisen from the dead. Yes, indeed has risen from the dead, and is currently holding Putin hostage with a gun, claiming that one man with a gun can control hundreds without one, especially Putin, who is as of this moment without a gun. Yes, indeed without a gun."
Cartman shook his head at the screen. That was fast. A large part of him told him to leave Russia while he still could and blame the Jews, but an even bigger part of him told him to stay and be the hero, for that is what the Coon would do. He stood there with his hand to his chin in thought. He needed a plan, and a good one at that, one that would definitely not fail him. He smiled cunningly, for he knew just what to do.
Vladimir Putin crouched behind his podium cowering in fear. He peeked out from behind it to see Vladimir Lenin still aiming the gun at him. He scratched his head, unable to comprehend how in the hell a dead guy was brought back to life and where the hell his security was. He was startled when he heard the double doors to the chamber slam open, and was stunned to view a chubby little boy walk through pushing a cart with a television on it. Was this child crazy? Lenin could blow his head off! Putin was even more surprised when the boy called out for Lenin and Lenin simply walked over to him. Putin scrunched up his face in confusion. Were these two ninnyhammers working together? He didn't bother to interfere though. Instead, he carefully tried to make his way around the chamber to the double doors.
Vladimir Lenin crouched down, squinted at the television and grimaced, "These contraptions are going to take some getting used to, with these boxes and their moving pictures. Anyway, what do you want child? I've got serious business to attend to."
Cartman's eyes widened as he nodded his head in understanding. "Of course, Sir, but there is a travesty that I thought you should be made aware of. If you would just watch the screen, you will see what I am talking about," he said.
Lenin regarded the television screen as it flickered to life with images of the same man flooding before his eyes. Snippets of different films had been put together to display the man's works. He shouted Shakespeare up to a girl on a moonlit balcony, swam in freezing waters beside a girl adrift at sea, hopped from place to place pretending to have different careers, prevented a crazed wife from tearing apart layers of dreams, sped down streets in a yellow car with a worried blonde, and more. Lenin turned to Cartman confused. "What is this?" he asked.
Cartman smiled solemnly, "That my friend is What's Eating Gilbert Grape."
"No, who's that man?" Lenin asked, shaking his head.
Cartman looked at the screen. "Why that is Leonardo DiCaprio, one of the greatest male actors to grace this planet. He is quite a talented fellow," he replied.
Lenin nodded in agreement. "Why of course! His portrayal of emotion is so vivid," he remarked as he watched DiCaprio's hand bleed in Django Unchained.
Cartman sighed, "Yes, it's such a shame that no one appreciates him though."
Lenin arched an eyebrow. "How is that possible?" he asked.
Cartman shrugged, "Oh don't get me wrong. People do love him and his work. He has been acknowledged for it by being nominated for several awards, such as an Oscar, but he's never won it."
Lenin was taken aback. "How is that possible?" he repeated.
Cartman raised his hand in front of himself and used his other hand to wipe pretend tears from his eyes. "Oh believe me it shouldn't be possible, but this man has been repeatedly cheated from receiving utmost praise by other actors. They just can't let DiCaprio win, for they know that if they do, his superiority shall be unstoppable," he explained all choked up.
Lenin's soulless gaze flitted from the screen to Cartman several times before he responded, "Something should be done about that."
Cartman's fake sobs morphed into a large grin. "Well my good Sir that is where you would come in. Instead of terminating this creep," he motioned towards Putin, who had made it across the room to the double doors by crawling. Putin smiled guiltily over at Lenin and Cartman from being caught and sat quietly. Cartman continued, "Why don't you make your people remember you for doing something even grander."
Lenin raised his hand to his chin in thought and slowly nodded in agreement.
Lenin stood at a podium, his people spread out in a huge crowd before him. He smiled, missing his political career. He cleared his throat to gain the audience's attention and begin the ceremony. Confidently, he spoke, "Good day everyone. Today we gather to bring justice to an unjust matter. Let it be known that it is we Russians, who will be doing the world a large favour by paying tribute to one of the greatest actors ever known to humanity. Even though it is nowhere near Oscar season, it is my honor to present this award to none other than Leonardo DiCaprio."
He held up a golden Oscar, and DiCaprio ran to grab it. He held the award and gaped at it in disbelief. Then he jumped with joy and cried. He started, "This is the best day ever! I am so gratified at having received this amazing award. I would like to thank—"
A gunshot pierced the air and DiCaprio fell to the ground dead. Everyone gasped and turned this way and that trying to view who had committed the atrocity. A man stepped out of the crowd towards the stage, tossing a rifle to the side. It was Tom Cruise. He pointed at DiCaprio's body panting. "I know what this looks like, but this had to be stopped, for this man is not deserving of this award. It is I who should be receiving it, because I am the greatest actor of all time who has yet to win an Oscar," he explained.
Tom Cruise stood on stage gleaming. The people looked at each other and began to disperse. Cruise watched the people leave devastated. "Wait, where are you going? This isn't fair!" he cried.
Lenin looked at Cartman. "Well, what happens now?" he asked.
Cartman shrugged, "You use your amazing stroke powers and go back to the grave. The right thing has been done thanks to you Sir, and the world shall be ever grateful. At least DiCaprio died at peace."
Lenin smiled, "I see. Well it has been a pleasure working with you Mr. Cartman. I will save you a good place in the afterlife."
Lenin collapsed and politicians rushed to aid his body back to the Mausoleum. Cartman stood there irked that he hadn't found out whether that place for him was in heaven or hell, but he nonetheless shrugged and started back home.
Mr. Garrison was flabbergasted. The quiet little mountain town had grown used to Eric Cartman's crazy antics, but they had never failed to appall everyone anyway. Thus, Mr. Garrison had expected Cartman to do something grandiose for his remedial; however, no amount of expectation could have prepared him for this discussion with the pompous pudgy boy standing in front of his desk. Mr. Garrison blinked, "Uhmm…Eric I am aware that this is the fifth time I have asked you to repeat what you have just told me, but…could you tell the story one more time?"
Cartman rolled his eyes and gave an annoyed sigh. "I brought Vladimir Lenin back to life so that he could have one of his strokes of genius and write my paper just like you had asked of me. Unfortunately, some political issues got in the way, and things took a different turn. Instead of having Lenin write me a completely new paper, I came up with the idea to get him to give an Oscar to Leonardo DiCaprio, which would then make my previous paper relevant to the Russian Revolution. What's not to understand? I have linked Leonardo DiCaprio by association to Russia and Lenin to the Russian Revolution. Now, if you could just change my grade to an A over nyah in your book, then I would say screw you guys and be on my way home."
Mr. Garrison responded solely by blinking again, unable to wrap his head around the insanity of the entire endeavour. "Could you repeat that again?" he asked.
Kyle raged from his desk. "This isn't fair! The rest of us actually worked hard on that assignment, and deserve a good grade unlike this retard!" he yelled. Wendy raged along with him, supporting his complaints.
Stan closed his eyes and pinched his nose with irritation. "Mr. Garrison, could you please just pass Cartman already, so that we can all go home?" he asked.
Mr. Garrison shakily grabbed his book and erased Cartman's F, replacing it with a C. Cartman grinned approvingly.
There was only one thing left to say.
"Sweeeet."
A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review if you can. This is my first oneshot for South Park and if it's received well enough, I'll submit other ones. Another one I'm working on is called South Park and Wendy's Revenge, so if you liked this story I can guarantee you'll like this one too. Also, I don't own South Park.