It's Buttman, Baby!

Summary – After a prophetic dream, Cartman awakes convinced that he must finish what Hitler began. To begin with, he'll have to start the perfect Aryan race, and there is only one boy with the genes for that.

Warning – everything Cartman-related, i.e. extreme anti-Semitism, cursing, offensive language

Disclaimer – South Park is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone, both of whom I idolize and do not wish to profit from their marvelous work

A/N – After watching dozens of episodes of South Park, I'm convinced that Cartman and Butters always end up in an oddly gay situation. So they deserve their "very own episode". ;)

"Goddamn it!" Kyle cried, "my goddamn brother is trying to follow me to school…again!"

"Suck my balls."

"No, Ike, you can't come to school with me!"

"Yeah, go home you little dildo," Cartman recommended.

"Dude," Kyle said incredulously, "for the last time, don't call my brother a dildo!"

Completely unscathed, Cartman considered it for a moment before replying with, "Alright, go home you little semen-puking-asshole-dickhead." His head hit the snow before he knew it.

"Dude, sweet," Stan marveled at the skill with which Kyle whacked Cartman with his little brother.

"Yeah, check it out! Ready Ike? Kick the baby!"

"Don't kick the goddamn baby—"

"Kick the baby!"

As Cartman heaved himself up from the snow, he let out a great yawn. "Whoa Cartman, looks like you didn't get much sleep last night."

"That's because I was having these bogus nightmares all night long—"

"Wait!" Stan cried. "Guys, just wait a fucking sec!"

"Jesus Stan, can't you wait?" Cartman snapped. "Tell us about your own dream later, I was talking goddamn it!"

"No, don't you see? We're on repeat, again!" Stan insisted. "Pretty soon, Chef is gonna pull up, tell us what we're having for lunch, ask us about the aliens, and we're going to have to go on an elaborate journey into space to prevent the aliens from blowing up our planet in the process of cancelling our reality show, all through the giant anal probe in Cartman's ass!"

After long seconds of silence, Cartman spoke. "Dude…the fuck you talking about?"

"Well, that's what happened last time!"

"I have no clue what you're on, Stan, but I was actually going to say that Jews had taken over and the whole world had gone into flames."

"What?" Kyle cried in outrage.

"Yep, it was pretty awful. Jews ruining the government, Jews ruining the economy, and worse yet, Jews ruining the fast food industry—"

"That is such bullshit!"

"—but that's when it all got better!" Cartman continued, determinedly drowning out Kyle's voice with his own, "because that's when he came to me."

"…Who?" They all asked.

"Hitler, you dumbasses."

Kyle let out a strangled noise and began to pull on the flaps of his hat.

"Yes, once Hitler arrived out of the chaos and misery, he said something I understood quite well. You can't use force to get rid of the Jews, he tried as hard as he could, and it just didn't work. Bless his soul. But there is a much more powerful weapon, he told me, and I was the one who must do it. I am to kill off all the Jews—"

"Will you shut up, Cartman?"

"—through the power of biology!"

"…What?"

"Whah whe heh wo you wea?" Kenny demanded.

"What do you think I mean, Kenny? Kill off all the Jews with a pandemic, and all the minorities in the process, thus leaving a race of Aryans upon which to rebuild the world."

"DUDE!" Kyle roared. "Don't you get it? Does nothing get to that fat brain of yours? For one thing, you won't be able to rebuild the world with Aryans! They're a subrace of Caucasians, there aren't enough of them around! YOU FAT, DUMB, FATASS DUMBASS!"

With that, Cartman, Stan, and Kenny watched as Kyle stormed off down the road. Just then, Chef pulled up in his car. "Hello there, children! Kyle, where you running off to? Oh well. Children, today it's—"

"Salisbury steak with buttered noodles, and a choice of green bean casserole, or vegetable medley," Stan deadpanned. "Not now, Chef, we're having an anti-Semitic genocidal crisis here."

"Oh. Okay."

"Hey Chef, you know where I can get any Aryans around here?" Cartman called.

"Isn't yo' little friend Butters Aryan?"

Cartman's eyes widened to incredible lengths. It was as if a wondrous light bulb had burst into light above his head, and the world to perfection was illuminated before him. "Oh. My God. Hitler, I know what I must do."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit."

Butters had a squeaky clean, consistently disinfected locker. On the bottom shelf, he kept his books and binders in alphabetical order, like his dad said, and on the top shelf a change of clean clothes, a set of gym clothes, and a little packet of Kleenex tissues. He kept his allergy medicine in his right front pocket at all times, and on the left a small picture of him with his mom and dad.

That morning, while he was standing in front of his neatly organized locker, fully prepared for school, Eric Cartman confronted him.

"Butters, dude, you gotta come with me right now."

"W-what?" He said, alarmed. "But class starts in three minutes!"

"Butters, you don't understand!" Cartman yelled, beginning to get aggravated. "We need to go right now, because I'm about to reveal my plan that will save the entire world from its ultimate destruction!"

"Well, golly, I didn't know that."

"That's right, so are you coming with me or not?"

"Butters, don't go with him," Kyle snapped from behind them. "He's just being a douche again."

"Ugh, are you serious?" Cartman growled. "Butters, Kyle's the one being a douche. He kicked his little kindergartner brother this morning."

"What?"

"Across the street!"

"What?"

"Into the snow!"

"W-w-what?" As Butters' anger grew, his stutter escalated as well. "Why, y-you ought to b-be ashamed-ed of yourself, Kyle! K-kicking around your little brother like th-th-that! H-he's just a little kid!"

"I know, right? What a terrible person."

"W-why on earth would you d-d-do that to someone so much weaker than yerself?"

"Taking advantage of your size and age, seriously, what an abusive person." Cartman began to whistle when Kyle averted his glare to him.

"You know what?" Kyle said. "I might be a sick, abusive, baby-kicking bastard, but what Cartman has in mind is much, much worse than anything I've ever done. So I'm warning you now, don't go along with his stupid plans, like some pussy. Like the pussy you've always been to him. Don't you let him fuck you, Butters. I'm telling you!"

"I think that's enough lines for you, Kyle, why don't you step aside and allow others to speak?"

"Urghhh!" Kyle yelled to no one in particular, stomping away. As the bell rang, Cartman turned to Butters, his gaze set.

"Well? What will it be?"