Background Info: This is set in present day South Park, and the boys are all 9 years old, well except for Cartman, but that comes later lol. I don't know what the weather is like in Colorado, but I'm guessing it's really snowy around fall/winter.

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Cartman, with his head down and yellow gloved hands shoved in pockets, shuffled through the snow, occasionally tripping over a snow bank and cursed silently to himself. He hated everything about the small town he lived in, especially the wretched weather; it was only November and snow was already falling hard, stinging his face. And to add to his misery, numbness was starting to set in. He was tempted to turn around and go home, but something just wouldn't let him. He didn't know where he was going; the only thoughts racing through his mind were that he needed to get away, as far away from home as possible. These thoughts had temporarily replaced those of plots and schemes and clever manipulation techniques that he was usually occupied with. He could never forgive his mother for what she'd done today.

Cartman had put up with her disturbing and inappropriate sexual acts for years, thinking it was normal, until he'd been to his friend's houses and realized that no mother other than his has sex parties while her son is in the other room trying to study. Yes, study. Cartman was an exceptional student, good enough to rival Butters, the smartest kid in the 4th grade, even. But he had a reputation to protect and would rather be caught dead than be known as one of those "pussywimp melvins" that he tortured on a daily basis. His ongoing rapport with the teachers and Kyle made everyone laugh and he was somewhat popular off of his horrible classroom ethics.

Everyone loved to see what crazy thing Cartman would do next, and he never disappointed. Teachers however, were baffled. He had been called to Mr. Mackey's office several times to be questioned about his confusing behavior. They saw a large amount of potential in him, and wanted him to succeed, but when he turned on his 'bad' persona, teachers were forced to punish him, which made them feel guilty, as he was one of very few star students South Park Elementary had. He would simply put on his angel face, which even Kyle couldn't help but fall for sometimes, and promise that it would never happen again.

Cartman was often very bored at home; the only TV show he really liked was Terence and Phillip, and that was only on once every day. As a result, Cartman decided to pick up the books and study, hoping to cure his boredom. He soon discovered his passion for learning; reading books became adventures for him in which he could escape, and math was easy for him too. Everyone thought of him as dumb; just once he wished he could show them what he could really do without risking his reputation. It surprised him that no one realized his genius; after all, you can't be an evil mastermind without having some sort of academic prowess. The only reason he continued to study, an activity that he and his friends thought was lame, was because he never wanted to end up like his mother- alone, with no other life skills, and a bad parent.

His mother worked a late night shift as a prostitute, so she didn't get home until very late and sometimes wouldn't come home at all. He had to commend her though; when she wasn't a coked up mess, she would leave him a wide variety of cheap snack foods so that he wouldn't starve. At least she still cared for him, he would say to himself, even though sometimes he found himself longing for a home cooked meal like all his friends. This was also the reason that he was the "fattest kid in South Park", a title which he took light heartedly, because for every rude comment he encountered about his weight, Cartman could spit out an equal if not worse comeback to the offender.

Cartman was tough; he would never let anyone see him in any state of vulnerability, because he had learned that the only person he could depend on was himself. He also had a unique way of making friends, which involved highly pissing them off. He had a small group of friends that tolerated him for some reason, and they would fight constantly. Cartman served as the antagonist to Stan or Kyle's protagonists and Kenny was usually too lazy to be involved in their schemes. He would feed off their negative energy; somehow, insulting them and being insulted back felt good to him. He figured it there wasn't anything wrong with him because of that. Several times he had heard his mother and her partner of the week in the other room, lashing insults and whatnot at each other and they sounded pretty happy by the end of it. He could tell Stan and Kyle and even Kenny really hated him, but they did risk their lives for him on occasions, and he did too. At the end of the day, he knew that they were the closest thing to family that he had. So that was why he was going to Stan's house.

Kenny's house was a chaotic mess and yelling and the sounds of beer bottles and other things being thrown around would always fill the air. Cartman knew Kyle would never let him in, even if he was cold, wet and shivering. They were sworn enemies, and besides, Kyle's mom was annoying and bitchy, and he knew she hated him too. Stan was the only other option he had. Cartman thought he was an annoying hippy gay wad, but out of the three of them, Stan was definitely the most sensitive and understanding. He just hoped he would be sympathetic today, because he really didn't want to trek all the way home. Not after what his mother did. Finally he reached the familiar green house. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, and immediately footsteps were approaching to let him in. Cartman took off his gloves and hat, and put on his best sad face. Stan came to the door and looked down to see the sad boy, covered in snow, looking like the picture of an abandoned puppy.

"Cartman? Dude, what the hell are you doing wandering around at this time of night?!" "Uhhh…" Cartman was at a loss for words. Stan had never shown this much concern, never towards him, anyway. "Well, come in before you freeze to death. Here, I'll get you a blanket." Cartman wandered toward the couch in the living room, in a daze, where a warm fire was burning. Suddenly he felt a pair of hands wrap a blanket around him, and he shivered from the sudden warm contact. Stan smiled a little and sat down next to Cartman. His expression soon turned to that of worry again, as he looked at the shivering boy. "Cartman, why are you here? Don't you see how bad it is outside?" "I just…ahh...forget it." Cartman was beginning to regret his decision to go to Stan's house. After all, Kyle was his best friend, and he'd probably tell him and they'd make fun of him for it. "I won't tell Kyle, I promise." Stan said softly, as if reading his mind.

Cartman stared at him in shock. "Dude, I know you too well. You're just afraid Kyle's gonna make fun of you. But if you're in some sort of trouble, you have to tell me now." Stan said. Cartman thought, oh, what the hell. My life already sucks, and if I don't tell him he's gonna kick me out into the snow. "Well...promise you won't laugh?" Cartman said as sadness built up behind his eyes. "I won't, I swear. Unless it's something really faggy." "Ey! Shut up hippy!" Cartman said, but Stan could sense the lack of enthusiasm that was always evident in his verbal abuse.

Cartman looked away, as rare tears were beginning to form behind his eyes. "Umm...you remember Clyde Frog, right Stan?" Stan nodded, and Cartman continued. "Well my stupid whore of a mother…" Cartman could not continue, he was losing the battle against holding back tears. Stan looked at him, feeling awkward. He'd never seen Cartman like this. He was usually so tough and would actually beat up on kids who looked like he did right now. He knew he had to comfort him, but then again, it could be one of Cartman's stupid tricks. As far as he knew, Cartman was devoid of any genuine human emotion. After all, he did grind up a kid's parents and feed them to him in a chili. But Stan's instinct told him that this was real. He put his hand on Cartman's back and rubbed slowly, as his mother had done so many times before when he came in with a scraped knee or other injured body part.

At this, Cartman began to pick up his story again. "I was just sitting in my room playing with him, and she came in and took him away!! She said she had to sell him for crack...I never saw him again! I tried to stop her…" Cartman was full on crying now; something Stan had never seen any of his friends do. Stan was at a loss for words. He was a little confused too. Why would Cartman care so much about a raggedy old stuffed animal? "I know what you're thinking," Cartman said, turning the tables and reading Stan's mind. "Why would I care about a stupid stuffed animal? Clyde Frog was my friend..he wasn't gay or stupid and didn't judge me like everyone in this whole godforsaken town." He continued to cry softly.

"Oh Cartman..." Stan was beginning to understand. He had never thought of how hard it must be to be Cartman, never realized how good his life was compared to Cartman's. That frog was probably the one thing that helped him cope with things, and now it was gone. Stan ripped on him all the time, but he didn't hate him with as much of a passion as Kyle did. He didn't support most of the things that he did, but his crazy antics were what made South Park the least bit exciting. In fact, he thought some of the things Cartman did were brilliant, (when they weren't inhumanely cruel) and sometimes wished he could be as clever.

Now the boy everyone loved to hate was breaking down, right before his very eyes. Stan reached out to hug him. He couldn't help it, the boy looked so miserable. "Everything's gonna be fine," he soothed "we'll get Clyde Frog back." Cartman buried his face in Stan's chest, tears soaking through his shirt. Stan stroked his hair and held him close. feeling strangely protective. He never wanted to let him go back to the home that he hated. He knew Cartman's mom was awful, but how could she do this to him? He held Cartman for hours, the two of them sharing the blanket, until Cartman fell asleep on his shoulder. Stan was busy thinking of ways he could make this right.