Eric Cartman Must Die
Disclaimer: I don't own South Park, or any of its characters. Damn.
Chapter 1: Chaos Rising…
Leopold "Butters" Stotch was a mess. And not just physically, either. Everything he touched turned to dust, or at least smashed into little pieces. He was just naturally clumsy, he couldn't help it. A clod, his father called him.
Well, maybe there was just no place in the world for clods like him.
He gazed into the bathroom mirror, hating what he saw. The stupid blond haircut, the puppydog blue eyes, the round, earnest face that was bruised and swollen.
OK, so he hated himself. But there was one person he hated even more.
Eric Theodore Cartman.
South Park's own Public Enemy No.1, alongside .
He remembered Cartman's face close to his, his hot breath, the redness of his cheeks.
"You're a fucking waste of space, Butters. What are you?"
"I'm a fucking waste of space, sir."
Then the punching had started. All he'd done was drop a lamp, a lamp that he'd biked all the way to Middle Park to collect because Cartman couldn't be bothered to get off his fat arse to go himself. How was he supposed to have known about the sheet of ice in the middle of the Cartmans' drive? He glared at the cuts on his hands which he'd sustained when Cartman had ordered him to pick up the broken glass and shit. Stupid fucking lamp.
How he longed to be like Cartman, and make everyone he met quaver in their boots. How he longed for the day when he could order someone to pick up glass and shit for him. How he longed to be strong.
"You can be."
Butters jumped, startled by the strange, deep voice, and looked around the small magnolia bathroom. Nobody there but him.
"'Kay, little weird," he mumbled nervously.
"I know you are, but what am I?"
Butters jumped again.
"Now this isn't funny," he said loudly. "Eric Cartman, if that's you, you stop that right now. Please."
"It's not Eric Cartman. It's someone much, much closer than that." The voice was almost taunting. "Look at me, Leopold."
Butters winced, as he always did when someone called him by his real name. Even his parents called him Butters. In his view, the name Butters wasn't particularly flattering, but it was ten times better than Leopold.
He turned and looked around the room again, looking for the source of the voice. There was definitely no-one but him. Eventually The Voice sighed in frustration.
"The mirror. Look in the mirror."
Butters turned back to the mirror and gasped.
His reflection was the same – yet different. The bruises and swelling remained, but there was something dark and sinister about his face: his eyes were hooded, his lips thin and pinched. He looked…evil.
"Pr-Professor Chaos!?"
"Yes, it is I. Did you miss me?" Butters said, or rather, his mouth did.
"No, I er, don't, um…"
Feeling dizzy, Butters sat down on the toilet. Professor Chaos was a supervillain he'd created when he was 8, someone he could become when he felt rejected and angry, when being Butters became too crappy. But he wasn't 8 anymore, he was nearly 15, for fucks sake. So what the hell was going on? Was he insane? Had he taken one too many blows to the head earlier? Whatever, he needed to get out of here.
"I need to lie down," he muttered, getting unsteadily to his feet.
"Sit. We have much to discuss."
Butters sat down again, and cursed himself for being so weak.
"So, um, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. He was talking to himself, after all.
"Remember those glorious days when you first created me?" Chaos asked. "We used to dream about destroying this pitiful planet, and everyone on it. No-one would stand in our way. Whatever happened to that dream, Leopold?"
"I guess I just grew out of it," Butters replied, after a moment's thought.
"No matter. The world can wait. We've got a bigger problem to solve," Chaos said cryptically.
"What, like global warming?"
"No. Something even bigger than that." Butters could feel his eyes narrowing. "Eric Cartman."
"WHAT!"
"Don't you see? This is why I'm here, Leopold. You know as well as I that Eric Cartman must be eradicated."
"Eradi-what?"
Chaos sighed impatiently. "Purged, deleted, removed, eradicated. You get it?"
Butters frowned. "I think so."
"Butters honey?" Butters jumped as his mother tapped on the door. "You've been in the bathroom an awful long time. What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing, mom!"
There was a short pause, then: "Listen, honey, I know about those magazines your friend Kenny lent you and that's fine, I know teenage boys get certain urges – "
"I'm just…thinking, mom!" Butters shouted, horrified at the direction the conversation had taken.
"Well, OK then," his mother called back. "Just remember not to think too much, or you'll go blind." Butters heard her padding away, then: "Dinner in five!"
he stood up, blushing furiously. For some reason, he was embarrassed that Professor Chaos should have heard any of that.
"I guess I'd better go, then," he mumbled, purposely avoiding looking at the mirror.
"Yes. Go and eat," Chaos said. "Then go straight up to your room. We have a lot of planning to do. It's time to commence Operation ECMeD."
"ECMeD?"
"Eric Cartman Must Die."