A/N: So, yeah, this is my most recent fic. I wrote it maybe a few weeks ago? Nevertheless, this is going under the category of 'stuff Mune never posted but is posting now'. Yeeeeah ~
Anyway, about the story, itself. Needless to say, this is about the evil Eric Cartman from a parallel universe. I was quite disappointed that there were so few stories about the parallel universe, nor of parallel Cartman, so I wrote one.
It didn't turn out quite like I wanted but… well, few things I write do, and I figured I may as well put it up because someone might enjoy it, eh?
Additional Notes: The fact that Parallel!Cartman has glasses is a reference to 'Succubus' in which Cartman has poor vision, but corrects it in the end by stealing Kenny's eyes. I cannot imagine sweet parallel!Eric doing this, and am not even entirely sure if parallel!Kenny dies. So, therefore, he has glasses.
Disclaimer: Don't own South Park, you know the drill.
Disclaimer 2: ZOMG SWEARS.
Sometimes, Eric thought that his short visit to the parallel universe had corrupted him. It had been years ago, and, though it had doubtlessly been a short experience, there wasn't a day after when he wasn't thinking about it. Apparently, he was the only one. Stan and Kyle had never brought it up, except to say how it was filled with pussies.
"I don't think that," he had once commented, the conviction behind his words surprising even himself.
Stan had scoffed. "Of course you don't; you're the biggest pussy of them all." Kyle and Kenny had laughed at this, and Eric had given them a wan smile. They were… they were really great friends. Really.
The thought had always come so easily before he had met those others. Before then, he had truly been convinced that those three were the best friends he could ever have. He still tried to think so, but now, whenever he did, a voice inside of his head would call him out on it.
Bullshit. It would say. Those guys are God damn assholes and you know it.
Eric would shake his head and keep smiling as he thought it, though. No, that wasn't true. They weren't assholes. They were good people. It was a simple as that.
Still, even after he assured himself of this, he could never shake the nagging feeling that he was wrong. That the other Stan would have smiled and agreed with him about the mistreatment of test animals; that the other Kyle wouldn't try to exploit and hurt him all the time; that the other Kenny would be grateful when he tried to help him out.
Sometimes he could picture their reactions perfectly. Happiness would fill him for the brief second before he realized that these people weren't them. They never would be them. An involuntary frown would form on his face, as a sinking sense of disappointment in his stomach developed, along with another, burning, fiery sensation in his heart that he didn't have a description for.
You hate them. Just admit it. You hate them and wish they would just die.
No, no that wasn't true. What a terrible thought. Eric furrowed his brow. He shouldn't think that. He loved his friends.
Eric loved his mother, too. He gave himself a metal nod. Yes, he loved her a lot. Even if she would harass him day and night, telling him that he was never good enough. She would say he was too fat, and withdraw food from him for days. That was alright, though. She was just trying to help him.
It was really helping him when she would say that she hated him and wished he had never been born. It was just giving him character. She was making him a less selfish person by never giving him anything but bare basics. She was just showing how much she cared.
You deserve better than this, damnit. I deserve better than this.
The voice would say, alarmingly, out of nowhere. It would say that his mother was just a bitch and, really, he should just kill her. Who would honestly care? Would he?
Then, he would gasp and wrap his arms around himself in some semblance to a hug. "Yes, yes I would care," he would whisper to no one, all alone in his barren room. His wide eyes would then, somehow, find its way over to the only non essential piece of furniture he owned and he would see himself.
It was this way he found himself now, staring into his own brown eyes. Exhaling, he made his way over to it, never once averting his gaze. Then, he just stood there in front of it. His pudgy hands traveling up to his eyes and the glasses that he had to wear. At one point, he had wondered whether his other self wore glasses, but had long since determined that he didn't.
The other him was too cunning to be forced into wearing glasses; too deceptive. No doubt he had found some way out of it. He had speculated that he wore contacts and had then immediately gone out and bought some for himself.
For me.
A smirk crawled up his lips. They were his; his mother didn't know about them. He glanced toward the door, as though afraid she would burst in and demand to know where he had hidden them. Nothing of the sort happened, and he was suddenly compelled to put them on. Kneeling down, he propelled himself underneath his shoddy bed, trying not to inhale dust bunnies as he did so. Sweeping some of the dust off of a particularly worn floorboard, he pulled it up. There it was. There was the container for his contacts. Carefully, he removed it from its hiding place, brushing it lovingly with his forefinger.
Perhaps it was strange to hide something so meaningless, so unassuming, but he did, because it was neither of those things. It was beyond important. It was something that he had gotten just for him. It was his and it was so damn selfish of him.
Pfft. Selfish?
"Selfish," Eric confirmed, before shuffling out from beneath the bed and back into the middle of the room. He stared at the container. It had been selfish. He didn't need the contacts; he had glasses. Yet, somehow, he didn't regret it.
Standing, he patted himself down to get the dust off of his body. After which, he meticulously wiped all the dust off his hands before sighing and sitting back down onto his bed. Licking his lips nervously, he wondered if he should really be putting them in. Swallowing, he tilted his head backward before removing the objects from their casing and placing them in his eyes. Blinking several times, he looked forward, back to the mirror.
Eric noted he was smiling. It wasn't his usual soft, unassuming smile, either. It was almost self-satisfied. He dropped it immediately, replacing it with a small frown.
So, was this what he looked like? No glasses?
Maybe not. Maybe there weren't even any contacts. Maybe he had found some way out of having poor eyesight altogether.
It wasn't like it mattered, though. At the moment, Eric could have passed for someone who had great eyesight; who wasn't wearing any sort of corrective lens at all. Did that mean that he could pass for him?
A bubble of hope erupted inside, for reasons he wasn't sure of. Who would want to pass for the other him, anyway? He had been selfish, rude, and manipulative. He had done whatever he wanted and got away with it, too. He had managed to trick his friends into sending the wrong Cartman back.
"…Screw you guys," Eric muttered, watching his reflection form the words. That was the last thing he had said to them. "Screw you guys," he repeated a bit more loudly, testing the phrase out, feeling it slide off of his tongue as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be saying.
Once more he stood, drawn to the mirror. Yes, there was no doubt he could pass for him. All he needed was a sadistic grin and a malicious look in the eyes and he would be there. He watched his reflection, waiting for these characteristics to appear.
They didn't.
And, of course they wouldn't, because he wasn't Eric Cartman. He was just 'the evil Eric Cartman from an alternate universe.' That was it. That was all he had been to them. To that whole damn universe.
Eric watched his brow furrow and a scowl form on his face before he felt them. Yet, they disappeared a moment later when he almost laughed at his appearance. There, that was it. Now he could pass for him. No gentle smile, no innocence in his eyes. It was perfect.
For, Eric had long since convinced himself that his other self was something of a lynchpin. His selfishness, his terribleness, his rudeness, all of it was what made the people around him what they were. It was crazy. He knew the idea was crazy but…
But, if that were true of him maybe it was true of him, as well? Maybe… maybe if he changed his personality, if he became him than maybe his friends wouldn't be…
Such assholes.
And his mom wouldn't be…
Such a bitch.
And his life would be…
Totally kickass.
The contacts were just the beginning; they were just the first show of selfishness. And they should be the only act of it, he mentally chided himself. It was wrong to be so greedy. It was wrong of him to want more out of the people around him. It was wrong, wrong, wrong.
He watched his reflection smirk deviously at him.
But maybe he didn't mind that so much.