The Coon and Friends Initiative
Eric stood in front of the door, flattening his hair out with his hands, readying himself to knock on drab looking front door. The overweight boy fixed his shirt and put on his best smile. It was a practiced expression that, though easily noted as fake to those who knew him, would have looked rather genuine to a complete stranger.
Feeling rather good about his appearance, Eric finally knocked on the door. He let his hands fall together, clasped in front of himself to look as much like a good-natured and decent child as he could.
The sound of footsteps came muffled behind the door (along with the sounds of, Eric assumed, guinea pig squeals). The muted noise of feet scraping against carpet stopped as the door handle was slowly and carefully turned, testing Eric's patience. After an eternity of Eric's precious, precious time had passed, the door finally opened. Craig stood on the other side of it, hatless. In his hands was the same hat that always donned his head. The boy held it carefully in his hands. Disembodied squeaks could be heard from within the cloth as it wriggled around. Cartman paid the aggravating object no mind.
Rather, he smiled sweetly.
"Heey, Craaig," he said, voice as sweet as he could muster. The large kid drew out his words in a way that made him, he thought, sound more saintly.
Craig wasn't taken to the façade. "What do you want?" he asked. His gaze tore away from Cartman for a second to stare into his hat as it jerked in his hands. The black haired boy's eyes traveled back to look at the unexpected visitor as said unwanted guest began talking once more.
"Craig, how would you like to be apart of something huge?" There was a moment of silence to follow Eric's question, wherein the large young man smiled sweetly, while Craig eyed him with his trademark, neutral expression.
"What?" he finally asked. Eric took this as an invitation to continue.
"I'm talking, of course, about my associate, The Coon." Craig's gaze dropped to the briefcase in Eric's hands as the latter male began rummaging through it. He pulled a few papers out, which he held up for the other to see. "Perhaps you've heard of him?" Craig wasn't given an opportunity to respond. "He's looking for people, Craig. People like you. It's called the 'Coon and Friends Initiative'. And you could be a part of it." He held a shitty looking flier out to Craig. The older boy comfortably placed his hat in the crook of an arm, making sure to hold it carefully, before taking the flier into his free hand.
It was adorned with an awful drawing of, what Craig could only assume was, The Coon. The explanation if this 'club' of sorts was jotted down in what was possibly the most atrocious penmanship the boy had ever seen, and he had difficulty making it all out.
"Of course, there'd be the matter of a slight fee." Craig raised his eyes from the paper. "Right now we think about $29.95 should cover it. Plus tax, of course." He finished with a sweet smile. Craig, however, made quite clear he didn't want a part in any of this nonsense. Without a word, he dropped the paper (Cartman's eyes followed as it floated to the ground), and turned to go back into his home.
Eric's well-kempt composure faltered. "Craig, I don't think you understand. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity here. For a nominal fee of $29.95- plus tax- you get to work alongside one of the greatest forces of our time."
Craig stopped, and turned to face Cartman once more. "No," he said, nasally voice deadpan. "For $29.95 I get to be swindled out of my money. You'll use it for some plan you'll be sure will earn hundreds. And we'll end up surrounded by giant fruit, or opening a wormhole to an alternate dimension or something."
For an entire minute, both boys stared at each other, each with their own neutral expression.
"Wow, Craig. You are being really negative here."
Undeterred, the black haired male pressed on.
"I could take you up on this 'once in a lifetime offer'. But I'm not going to. I'm going to go back inside with Stripes," at this the guinea pig, who'd been wriggling around inside Craig's hat the entire time, poked his nose out of the cotton prison. "We're going to watch Red Racer. No giant fruit. No Homeland Security. No explosions. And no sparks. Nice. And boring."
Another minute of silence passed before Craig turned back to his home- to the inviting livingroom he has left to answer the door. He closed said door behind him, shutting off all possibilities of being turned back around once more.
Cartman stood his ground for a moment, staring at the house, inwardly shaking his head, disbelieving someone would pass up such a wonderful opportunity as getting to work with THE Coon.
"What a little faggot, goddamn."