"Cartman, where the hell are we going?"
Cartman ignored my question, as he had been doing since he had snuck into my room and dragged me out my own front door, marching me through sludge and snow at nearly four in the morning in nothing but the thin material of my PJs. Usually I would put up more of a fight, but I was tired, frustrated, and dammit my feet were going numb from the cold. I figured this would be over quicker if I just humored the fatass.
Cartman remained silent as we came upon his house, kicking open the front door and roughly tugging me by my wrist into the warm home. "MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!" he shrieked, the first sound he had made since I had woken up to him stumbling through my window. I jumped, startled by the sudden screech.
Mute Cartman had been nice.
After it became obvious that his mom was not around to answer back, he resumed lugging me into his house, towing me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway, followed by a door and another flight of stairs. Finally, he threw open a ceiling hatch at the top of the stairs, shoving me into his attic.
"Stay here, Jew," he spat, glaring at me intensely as if I had already done something to piss him off.
"What the hell, Fatass?" I questioned, irritated. Was he seriously planning on leaving me up here? "Are you out of clever ways to get rid of me already?"
A smirk twisted Cartman's lips. "Of course not, Kahl."
"Then what the fuck are you trying to do?"
Cartman scowled again as he began to climb down the stairs. "Just stay here," he commanded once more before slamming the hatch. After my exit was sealed off, I heard the faint sound of keys clicking a lock into place before his heavy footsteps clambered down the steps, his voice carrying out a cheery tune as he left.
"Gonna meet my hero, gonna meet my iiiiiiidoooool…"
I surveyed my surroundings. Cartman obviously hadn't bothered to clean up after hiding refugee cats during the cheesing incident. The place reeked of felines, tufts of hair resting on the floorboards. I shifted my sitting position, unsettling some of the hair into the air, causing me to sneeze.
It was fucking gross.
I sighed and pulled out the cell phone Mom had forced me to start carrying, thankful I had managed to snatch it before Cartman forced me out of my room. Punching in Stan's number with practiced ease, I brought the device to my ear and waited for him to pick up.
"Kyle?" he answered. Strangely enough, he didn't sound as if I had just woken him up. His tone actually sounded somewhat panicked.
"Hey dude. Cartman locked me in his attic, could you come pick me up?" I asked.
"Uh, Kyle, actually, I would uh…stay there."
"Wha…? Why the hell would I do that?"
"Well," Stan said, hesitant. "You know how Kenny and Cartman and I were having a sleepover, and you didn't want to come because you wanted to study?" Already I was sensing it had been a bad idea to leave them alone together. "We were messing around, and we sort of, um…resurrected Hitler."
"WHAT?"
"Yeah…sorry…"
"Dude! How the fuck did you even do that?"
"Kyle, it's South Park."
"But…but…why Hitler? Why, Stan?"
"It was Cartman's idea."
I rolled my eyes. Of course it was. Eric Cartman, that anti-semetic son of a bitch. But, wait...
"Are you saying that by keeping me in his attic, Cartman's actually…helping me?"
"I don't know. That'd be pretty screwed up," Stan admitted. I heard a sieg heil! from his side of the line. "Dude, I gotta go prevent a second holocaust. Just stay in Cartman's attic."
The line went dead. I let the phone fall to the floor.
Was Cartman really helping me? No, of course not. But…maybe? Possibly?
I shook my head, curling against the wall and shutting my eyes. I decided I might as well try to sleep. After all, there was no telling when Cartman would come back to unlock the hatch. If he ever did.
Stupid fatass…stupid anti-semetic fatass…stupid anti-semetic fatass who was holding me captive in his basement to hide me from his idol…as if he might…care…
I fell asleep with a blush staining my cheeks.
(LINEBREAK! WHOOO!)
Epilogue
Cartman sighed contentedly, burrowing into his sheets and snuggling close to Clyde Frog. Meeting Hitler had been kickass. Of course that fag Stan just had to kill him to prevent another holocaust, but whatever. Kick. Ass.
"Hm, Clyde Frog," he mumbled. "I almost feel like there's something I've forgotten…"
"CAAARTMAAAN!"
"Nevermind Clyde Frog, I don't believe there is."
"GODDAMMIT FATASS, LET ME OUT! IT'S BEEN A WHOLE DAY! I WANT. TO GO. HOME!"
Cartman smiled. The screaming of an anguished Jew…what a perfect lullaby…
"FUCK YOU FATASS!"
(END)
A/N: First South Park story. Good? Bad?
Did Kyle ever get out of Cartman's attic? The world may never know...