A/N: Alright, I admit it. I had way too much fun writing this. I'd really appreciate it if you would review, whether you liked the story or not. Also, this fanfiction contains a story which is a little Anti-Semitic because it's told by Cartman, but that's hey, I doubt you'll care. It is South Park after all.
-GUN
"Alright, children, listen up!" Principal Victoria ordered kindly, smiling with her lips closed. Her eyes were squinted sweetly as they searched the expressions on the youthful students' faces; all of which were displaying some distinct level of bafflement.
"Mr. Garrison is -" She paused awkwardly, unknowing of how to properly state the rest of her sentence. "Away for the time being." She folded her hands in front of her timidly.
One hand of every single fourth grader in the classroom shot up in eagerness, all except for the hand of curious little Stanley Marsh.
"My mom said that Mr. Garrison is a pedo-bear now. Is that why he's away?" The poof-ball hat wearing boy inquired, eyes full of wonder. Principal Victoria's eyes widened in shock. Mr. Garrison had only been arrested one day prior for the suspicion of kidnapping a kindergartener.
"What's a pedo-bear?" Kyle Broflovski, best friend of Stan, wondered aloud, furring his eyebrows in puzzlement.
Stan only returned the look of perplexity back at his Jewish friend while he shrugged his shoulders, saying, "I don't know, dude."
"It's because bears don't like living is Colorado, you guys." Portly Eric Cartman confirmed matter-of-factly.
"There are plenty of bears in Colorado, dumb ass!" Kyle challenged at Eric, crossing his arms in an all-knowing manor.
"No, they like to lay out in the sun drinking thirst-quenching beverages, you fucking Jew!" Eric returned, just as rudely.
"Where the fuck did you hear that from?" Mumbled Kenny McCormick under the hood of his tangerine parka.
"A documentary on the television."
"Which documentary?" Interrogated Kyle.
"The coca-cola commercial."
"Boys!" Principal Victoria hissed, her eyes forming into slits of fury. She brushed her legs, even though there was nothing to brush off in the first place, and plastered on another fake smile accompanied by her squinty eyes. "Anyway, because of Mr. Garrison's unexpected absence, I found you a replacement sub for the time being."
"Yay!" The students exclaimed in unison, throwing their hands up in the year as Principal Victoria exited.
In the door emerged a young man, roughly in his late twenties to early thirties. He was physically fit, had a cute baby-like face, and not so hard on the eyes. He smiled a crooked smile as his friendly light blue eyes glanced joyously at all of the youthful pupils. In his hand was a small, brown football which he tossed up in the air and caught to himself.
"Wow!" All of the female students (and Eric Cartman) said, mesmerized with eyes full of admiration.
"What's your name?" Stan asked the man.
The substitute walked over to Stanley and ruffled his hair gingerly. "My name's Charlie Stevens. But you can call me Charlie, not Mr. Stevens. Mr. Stevens is my father's name," He said, chuckling. "Got that, champ?" Charlie walked away, chuckling to himself at the sight of so many curious, eager-to-learn children. Stan looked at the man as if he had four asses and turned to Kyle while pointing to Charlie and mouthing the word, "fag."
Cartman, seeing this, immediately pounced at the opportunity to defend his new idol. "I think Charlie's cool!" He cooed, beaming ear-to-ear and squinting his eyes at the substitute teacher.
Charlie chuckled again before saying, "Oh, you kids!" while shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips.
"Yup, he's a fag." Kenny mumbled underneath his parka.
"W-what are we going to do today since Mr. Garrison's gone?" Little Butters Scotch asked.
"Well, what were you doing when Mr. Garrison was here, champ?" Charlie asked.
"Well, uh," The blonde began awkwardly. "We were listing the, uh, all the body parts Heidi Montag got plastic surgery on."
Charlie stood there, perplexed. Finally after a brief moment of involuntary silence, he said. "Well, how about each one of you writes me a story of what you did after school yesterday?" Wait for it, Stan and Kyle thought. "…Champs." There it is.
The sounds of scuffling children and moving to reach sheets of paper and pencils filled the room. Each one of the 24 students moved there pencils back and forth viciously while poking there tongues out of the side of their mouth in determination.
Finally, Charlie ordered everyone to conclude their stories (,champs).
"Would anyone like to read their story to the class?" Charlie asked with an accompanied sideways smirk.
The little, pudgy fingers of Eric Cartman spread to their fullest extent as his hand shot through the air like a bullet. "ME, ME, MYAH!" He cried, eyes squinted while biting his lip as if he was in physical pain.
Charlie nodded and Eric quickly trotted to the front of the classroom beside the substitute teacher with a numerous amount of papers in his hand. How he managed to write a story that long bewilders even the people present that day. The portly boy smiled sweetly at Charlie before clearing his throat and holding the papers directly in front of his nose.
"It was a.. crisp, clear-skied afternoon…." He began.
"I was just sitting there, minding my own business and appreciating the joys of life. Mr. Garrison, being the informative teacher he is (but no where near as awesome as Charlie) was teaching, obviously. I was trying to pay attention with all of my might - trying, but not succeeding. My attempts to be focused were feeble, for someone was distracting me.
There sitting right beside me was none other than Kyle Broflovski. Snickering his greedy little Jew laugh, he was bullying of a variety of different students. Me, being the courageous, cool guy that I am, knew that he needed to be stopped.
'Kyle,' I began sternly, yet calmly. 'I am trying to learn. And what you're doing right here isn't right.' I shook my head, closing my eyes in deep thought. 'It isn't right at all.'
'Who cares?' Kyle said in his greedy, high-pitched voice.
'Students, is there anyone who would like to read their essay about their family to the class?' My Garrison asked, eyes searching the rows of students.
Kyle, without saying a word, grabbed his paper and stomped up to the front of the room. He pushed Mr. Garrison out of the way rudely, and began to read:
'I have always been a Jew. My family is Jewish too so we
eat kosher together. My mom and dad have a lot of friends
and we go over to their houses for dinner sometimes.
They know that we are the only Jews in town so they let us
bring our own food. Sometimes I feel upset
about being Jewish because my friends celebrate the
birth of Jesus on Christmas, but I never have in all my
years because Hanukah is what Jews celebrate. It's
sweet that I get 8 days of presents, but I will
never really connect with my friends
as much as I'd like because of this. But,
kindness goes a long way and that's something
even my family has. Some Catholic families are
suffering because they aren't kind, but I know my family never will.' Kyle spat before returning to his seat, while nobody clapped for him because he's a dick.
There's something not right about that essay, I thought to myself, rubbing my chin with my left hand in a striking 'thinking pose.' He was obviously lying, for I have always known that something was particularly off about Kyle's family. And right there, I swore to myself I would find out what.
The bell rang, signaling that class was over. Kyle dropped his paper to the ground while the students rushed out the door. Pushing everyone to the side, Kyle was obviously the first one out of the room. I waited for everyone to leave the classroom before I walked over to the front of the room and stared down at Kyle's essay, which was mocking me from the ground. I sighed, picked it up, and stared at it. After a brief moment, I left the school and began to walk home.
When I reached my house, I went straight to my room. I stared at the paper for hours on end. Trying, hoping to discover any form of hidden secrets. I looked for codes, hidden words. It took me approximately 24 minutes before I realized, for certain, Kyle's dirty little secret.
The answer was so distinctively clear now, it was almost impossible not to see it. The first word of every line. I, eat, and, they, bring, about, birth, years, sweet, never, as, kind, even, and suffering. I looked even closer at the words, at the first letter of each of the words. IEATBABYSNAKES. If you add a few spaces in the correct spots, the evidence is there: I EAT BABY SNAKES.
'Of course!' I said to myself. 'It all makes sense now.'
Naturally, I sprinted out my front door and headed on to Kyle's house. I needed to investigate further, to see Kyle in action. It was somewhat dark by this time of the day, and Kyle's family was just about to sit down to eat dinner.
And then, they did it. They were thanking Allah, or whoever the Jews thank, for their dinner. Only, it wasn't in English. They spoke in parseltongue. I don't know if you have ever heard the sound of a demon laughing, but let me tell you this: The sound of the Broflovski family speaking the native tongue of snake was easily a thousand times more sickening."
Just then, Cartman was interrupted by his story.
"GOD DAMNIT, CARTMAN! I DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, EAT BABY SNAKES, NOR DO I SPEAK IN PARSELTONGUE WITH MY FAMILY. THAT WAS HEBREW, YOU DUMB SACK OF SHIT!" Kyle yelled ferociously, in an ear-splitting high tone of voice.
"Charlie," Eric said. "I was under assumption that there would be no interruptions?"
Charlie nodded, prompting Eric to continue. The boy cleared his throat, yet again, and continued to read.
"After they finished talking in their native tongue, they began to speak back in English.
'Kyle, have you been studying and keeping up with your grades?' A premenstrual Sheila Broflovski asked her eldest son, cutting into her kosher food.
'Yes, mom.' Kyle answered. If there was anyone, anyone at all who could out-bitch Kyle and his nasally Jew needs, it was his mother.
'And you've been keeping your room clean?' She interrogated further, her eyes stern.
'Yes, mom.' Kyle answered again, not looking up from his food. I studied his food habits carefully. They seemed somewhat normal - for a Jew. He was eating at a moderate pace, chewing with his mouth closed and swallowing. Same goes for the rest of his family. His father, mother, and even baby brother were all eating perfectly normal. This confused me.
Sheila dropped her fork. Her cold, black, beady eyes looked straight into his green ones as she said in a hushed voice: 'And you been eating nothing but kosher?'
Kyle returned the stare with the same, high level of intensity. 'Of course!' He cried, seemingly offended by her accusation.
'Good,' Kyle's father exclaimed in a serious voice. 'Because if you so much as even taste food without a substantial amount of snake in it, you are forbidden to being crowned the Jew Prince.'
My mouth opened in awe. The Jew Prince? What did this mean? This was clearly a bad thing, and possibly quite dangerous to all of us non-Jews. And did all kosher food have snake in it? Were all Jews secretly parseltongue-speaking snake-eaters?
'I know,' Kyle said, chewing. 'I would never let anything stand in my way from being the Jew Prince.'
After a few more minutes, the Broflovski's were finished with their meal. Gerald went to the couch to watch TV, while Sheila began to clean up. She commanded Kyle to stay downstairs to help her clean up.
'Kyle,' She said, scrubbing a dish in the sink. 'Would you mind feeding some of the snakes some leftovers? A snake's full stomach makes for a good latke." She smiled evilly, which her son gladly returned.
'Sure, Mom.' He said, taking a dish and opening their pantry closet. Inside the closet were roughly a thousand different snakes. Spotted snakes, striped snakes, baby snakes, old snakes, poisonous snakes, friendly snakes. Any kind of snake you could imagine, it was there inside their seemingly endless pantry. And Kyle just walked inside, nonchalantly holding a plate of kosher. He set the plate down on the ground.
'You're going to eat this, and you're going to like this, you fucking snakes!' He hollered.
'Mommy, look!' A baby, female snake hissed in excitement. 'Food! We haven't eaten in days!' The little girl snake slithered over alongside some of her brothers, sisters and mother, only to burst out in tears after smelling the plate of kosher.
'It's Daddy! This plate of food is Daddy!' She wailed, tears rolling down her rough skin. 'They made him into food!' The family of snakes shed similar cries of desperation, hunger, and sorrow.
'You need to it eat, children.' The mother commanded under a sob. 'You'll starve to death if you don't. I'm not about to let my babies starve to death!' The baby snakes hesitated, but eventually began to dig into their dead father who was made into kosher. They cried and sobbed throughout the whole experience, their little snake stomachs burning with the presence of their deceased parent. Kyle walked out of the pantry snickering before shutting the door behind him, causing the pantry to go dark and the snakes to be temporarily blind.
'Just think," Sheila said to her son, finishing up the dishes and sighing happily "Soon, this world will belong to the Jews… and your father, King Jew, will be leading the whole thing with you by his side. With the ambitious and noble attitude of the snake in our stomachs, we'll have all the power anyone could dream of!' She said, her beady black eyes sparkling.
'Yeah,' Kyle said. 'And the money.' They both sighed again, happily.
'Just as long as nobody finds out before our future Prince gains USP.' Sheila reminded, nudging at Kyle and smiling. Kyle's face scrunched his face up, puzzled.
'What's USP?'
'Ultimate Snake Power," She informed. 'You reach USP once you have eaten every type of snake the world has to offer. It won't be long until you reach it and we can finally take over the world.'
'Yeah!' Kyle said dreamily while smiling.
And so, I went back home 50% shocked, and 50% terrified beyond all control. I had no idea what to do. I knew I simply had to find a way to stop the Broflovski's before Kyle reached USP. But how? If Kyle has almost reached USP, who knows how powerful he could be? So, everyone, that is why I have chosen to spread the word. And I want all of you to spread the word, as well. Make sure that you keep all snakes away from the Broflovski household - before it's too late." The boy concluded dramatically, closing his eyes.
Numerous different students stood up and clapped noisily, while some screamed for their lives. Kyle was boiling with anger. His face almost as crimson as his hair, the boy gritted his teeth and his emerald eyes shot daggers and Eric. He was shaking - rapidly. The skin on his hands had turned white, since he had been clenching his hands into small, tight fists.
"SNAKE-KILLER!" Someone screamed, pointing an angry finger at the Jewish boy. Every pair of eyes turned to the boy who had been pointed at. All of the students gave him frightened, timid looks. Even his best friend, Stan wa scared. Hell, even Charlie was hiding behind Mr. Garrison's desk.
"I'm. Not. A. FUCKING SNAKE-EATING JEW PRINCE, YOU IDIOTS!" He boomed, his voice carrying through every hall of the school. They all continued to look at him as if he was Satan himself. Kyle grunted in annoyance. Frustrated and done with Eric's intolerant and Anti-Semitic words, he stormed out of the classroom, clutching his backpack tightly to his chest.
Once he reached his house, he opened the door and slammed it behind him. With another frustrated grunt, he walked into the kitchen.
"What's wrong, Kyle?" Sheila Broflovski asked her raging son as he emptied the contents of his backpack to the floor.
Satisfied with it's hollowness, he carried the backpack into the hall pantry where he began filling it one by one with different snakes.
"They know," Kyle said quietly. "We need to get out of this town - now."