Daddy Hates Christmas
Author's Note:- This is my first story. I hope you will give good reviews. I am always looking forward to constructive criticism as it helps me to improve on my writing. :) So whether you love or hate, review. But no mean flamers okay because that's mean. Anyway, enjoy. I've done my best to spin something great for all you SP/Cartman fans.
Summary:- A quiet family Christmas raises a few issues in the Cartman household, as 2-year-old Eric wants to know why the table isn't set for three.
Christmas morning brings snow to the quaint little town of South Park, which isn't unusual, as South Park is every day encased in snow, except for summertime. The entire town seems to be filled with goodwill and holiday spirits. In a house a little estate, a young woman, aged 20, lifts her baby son out of his little cot. The child is about two years old, with dark brown hair, and big brown eyes. He is quite a heavy little boy, and his mother struggles to lift him. The child has a big smile plastered on his face, and he reaches out to tug on his mother's hair. This is Eric Cartman, son of Liane Cartman.
"Kimmas" Eric announces to his mother, in his limited vocabulary. "Kimmas day, mommy."
"That's right, sweetie," Liane coos, gently kissing the top of Eric's head. "Clever boy."
Eric smiles at the compliment, and then claps his hands together. "Sanna Cause?" He asks curiously.
"Yes, darling. Let's go see what Santa left for you, precious." Of course, Eric doesn't know the amount of money that his mother spent on spoiling him this Christmas, and he probably never will, not until he's at least 12, but this doesn't matter to her. She loves her baby and wants to spoil him rotten. If that means she's in debt all next year, so be it. Liane carries Eric downstairs. At two, he's well able to walk, but doesn't, preffering the comfort of his mother's arms. When they get downstairs, Eric's eyes widen at the sight of all the presents laid out just for him.
"Mine pessents!" He squeals. "Mine!" Being an only child, Eric is used to getting loads of presents on occasions such as this. He scrambles down from his mother's arms and starts running towards the presents under the tree. "Me open them."
"Go ahead, Eric." Liane smiles at her son. Eric needs no more invitations, and begins tearing at the wrapping paper. The first is a set of talking, well, farting, Terrance and Phillip dolls. Eric squeals in delight and hugs the dolls to his chest.
"Do you like them, darling?" Liane asks, though she already knows the answer. Eric looks up at her and smiles.
"Wuv them. Sanna good." He nods, then tosses the dolls to one side to allow for more present-opening. It takes an hour and a half for Eric to open all of his presents. By now, he must have at least seventy toys littering his room. Eric is possibly the most spoiled child in South Park, though this doesn't seem to bother him, and why should it?
"Wow! Lossa toys fow me!" Eric sings, in a sing-song voice, as he capers about the Christmas tree. "Aww fow me! Aww fow mee!" He cheers. Liane pulls him into her arms, and hugs him tightly. She knows Eric will not have gotten her anything, but it doesn't matter. It's her own fault anyway. Eric plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek.
"Kimmas kiss, mommy. I wuv you." He leans his head against her chest.
"I love you too, Eric. I love you so much." Eric smiles at his mother. She sets him down on his feet.
"Run and get dressed, poopikins, and we'll get to church."
"Mommy do it?"
"Alright." And just like that, Eric gets what he wants. A few hours later, after church, they meet young Sheila Broflofski and her son Kyle. Kyle smiles at Eric.
"Mewwy kimmas Kyow!" Eric claps his hands. "I getted lotsa pwessents. I gotted Tewwance and Phiwwip dows."
"Wo-ow!" Kyle's eyes get wide as saucers. "Lucky! I not hab no kimmas pwesents."
Eric's eyes widen. No presents? The term is alien to his two-year-old mind.
"Jews no hab kimmas. We hab hanukah."
"Oh." Eric feels bad for Kyle, so he wraps his arms around his waist and plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek.
"You mine fwiend Kyow."
"You too, Ewic." It's possibly the only time Eric will show Kyle any sort of affection, but that's another story. The two are soon joined by three year old Stan Marsh, and one year old Kenny McCormick.
"Happy kimmas!" Eric cheers, running to hug his friends. "Sanna bwing me lotta pwesents!"
"Me too!" Stan says, while Kenny tugs at his little orange parka, sucking on the thread of the hood.
"Ooog, mmmh." He says. He looks at his mother. "K'i'a's'" He says.
"That's right, sweetheart," she says in her heavy southern accent. Eric giggles. He thinks Mrs. McCormick's accent is funny.
"Come on, sweetums," Liane says to her son. "Let's go home and have our dinner."
"Dinnow!" Eric squeals, and clambours back into his buggy. Dinner. Food. Eric Cartman's favourite words. He waves goodbye to his friends.
It's at dinner time that Eric raises the question. How ironic that his favourite time of day, on his favourite day, would bring such sadness. He looks around at the food his mother has laid out for him. Just enough for the two of them, if you call what Eric Cartman eats just enough. Eric held his pudgy hand out for a cracker. His mother and him pulled the cracker together. He giggled as his mother placed the crown on his head. He squealed and clapped his hands together. "Cwaka!" He screams out. "Moww cwaka!" His mother laughs.
"No more, Eric. I have none." Eric looks around the table in search of more crackers. His little eyes settle on the empty seat where his father should be sitting. He looks at his mother, then back to the seat, then back to his mother again.
"Daddy?" He asks. The word is innocent enough in the mouth of a child, but coming out of Eric Cartman's mouth, it sounds sad and lost. Liane feels tears in her eyes.
"W what about daddy, poopkins?" She asks. Eric hesitates for a moment, then reaches out with his pudgy hand and squeezes the empty air by his father's seat, as if hoping to squeeze some of that non-existant paternal figure. It's clear that even a boy of Eric's age needs a father.
"Why daddy no heow fow kimmas?" He asks.
"Well, sweetie.." Liane trails off. She takes Eric out of his high-chair and sits him down on her lap. "Eric, daddy's not coming for Christmas dinner."
"Why?"
"Well, sweetie, daddy is... not... here... anymore"
"Why?"
"I think we need to wait until you're a big boy before I tell you that."
Eric looks at his mother, and sucks on his blue hat like a comfort blanket. "Daddy no like kimmas?"
"Maybe not." Liane replies. The next thing her son says breaks her heart.
"Daddy no like Ewic?"
"Oh, Eric, no! God no! That's not true at all! Darling, mommy and daddy love you so so so so much. You are the most important little guy in our lives, do you understand?"
Eric nods. "Mmmhmm. I 'portant." He says. A small smile starts to form on his mouth, though his eyes are still watering with fresh tears. Liane pulls her son closer to her chest. Eric means the world to her, anyone can see that. But the child needs his father. She sighs. Maybe she can find him a new one. She'll do whatever it takes to make her son happy, to give him the life he truly deserves. She rocks Eric back and forth.
"I love you, baby-boy."
"Wuv you too, momma." Liane smiles.
"Well, come on, darling. Why don't you go play with your Terrance and Phillip dolls, and Mommy'll get the pudding ready. Be a big boy and do that for me?"
Eric nods and gets down off his mother's lap to run into the front room to play with his new favourite toys.
Liane watches her son run through the living room waving his dolls in the air. Her baby. He'll have a dad one day, she promises herself.
Eric plonks himself down on the floor and holds the two dolls together in his arms. He wonders if Terrance and Phillip have a daddy, and if so, whether their daddies hate Christmas too. Is it just his daddy that doesn't come for Christmas? His daddy must really hate Christmas. Perhaps Santa was mean to him and didn't give him any presents? Perhaps he doesn't like the food? Maybe he's Jewish, like Kyle.
But something in his mind tells him that Christmas is not the reason that Daddy isn't here. His mommy was wrong. Daddy doesn't hate Christmas.
Daddy hates Eric.
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