I don't own South Park - it's owned by the very talented Trey Parker and Matt Stone.
Super Hero
by cell12
Chapter 2
Tuesday - Maestro
Eric woke up to the sound of his alarm, his dream from the night before still fixed in his mind. Could the dream be his memories? He remembered, stupidly, freezing himself when he was nine - he was revived in the future and saved the world before being sent back. Sadly, no-one ever believed him about his adventures so he had stopped talking about them. Sometimes he wished he had stayed in the future, there was nothing for him in this world. No joy or happiness, no close family or anyone who truly cared about him - he was alone and sometimes the loneliness was overwhelming.
While in the bathroom, taking his shower, he noticed that his body had been changing. It looked so different from what he was seeing in the mirror just a few weeks ago. Someone who didn't know him would think he was a sports obsessed jock, like Stan. The only difference was that he still had the remains of a belly and his muscles were bigger.
The idea that humans from the future had upgraded his DNA and sent him back in time to protect the Earth from numerous alien menaces, was a lot to get his head around. Cartman liked being the hero - but only so he could rub it in his friend's faces. When he was younger, he had played at being a superhero - dressing up as the Coon and running around the town at night. This was different, on a much larger scale and it scared him.
Eric shook himself - no, he was Cartman, nothing bothered him. If the world had to be protected from aliens, of course, he was the one who would be chosen to do it. And if, in the meantime, he used his powers to improve his crappy life well - he deserved some sort of reward, didn't he.
Satisfied with his answers, Eric hurriedly finished his shower and dressed before going downstairs. He'd had to use the tightest notch on his belt to cinch in his trousers, he would have to get himself some new clothes at the weekend. The last thing he needed was for his pants to slide off him while he was at school.
As he fixed his breakfast, Cartman vaguely noted that his mother still hadn't turned up. It wasn't that unusual for him not to see her for days at a time. It happened so often that he didn't even bother to wonder where she was and what she was up to. As long as she stayed around long enough for him to finish school - after that, he wouldn't care if he never saw her again.
"Hey genius, looking forward to detention?" Kyle greeted Cartman in his usual caring way.
"Drop dead Jew," Cartman responded automatically. He was still brooding on his dream from the night before and whether it was real or not. He was inclined to believe it was real, if only because it made sense and explained things.
"I asked Ike about you," Kyle said - still looking to start something.
Eric looked over at Kyle - was the Jew trying to rip on him some more or was he wanting a genuine conversation, "So?"
"You are his piano teacher," Kyle still sounded like he didn't quite believe it.
"Is that an apology Kahl?"
"No," Kyle answered, "I have nothing to apologise for."
"You accuse me of lying, to my face. Then when ah prove the truth to you, you accuse me of doing a crappy job." Cartman really wasn't in the mood for an argument with Kyle today, "Ah think that either of those things would warrant an apology."
"Who's to say how good a job you're doing," Kyle argued stubbornly.
"Didn't Ike say ah was a good teacher?" Cartman asked
"He said that he liked you as his teacher," Kyle conceded, "but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're doing a good job."
Cartman gritted his teeth, trying not to be too pissed off with Kyle's words, "If you're so interested in how good a piano teacher ah am, then you should sit in today when ah give Ike his next lesson."
Kyle nodded like he was accepting a challenge, "When and where, fat-ass?"
"Music room three, after class," Eric answered, not looking Kyle's way, "and no trying to interfere with my lesson or interrupt it just so you can win."
Kyle scowled, rather than answer - before nodding.
Stan arrived then at the stop, with Wendy in tow. She had started using the boys stop, every now and again, so she could spend more time with Stan on a morning. Personally, Cartman thought it was so she could keep track of him. We used to all make plans for meeting up while standing at the bus stop and now we couldn't - so Wendy was able to monopolise more of his free time. Needy bitch, the last thing Stan wanted was an argument - so he just kept his head down and agreed with whatever was happening. Eric could tell that her constant presence was pissing Kyle off too - cutting into his super-best-friends time. For Cartman that was the only benefit of her being around. To piss Kyle off more, he always went out of his way to greet Wendy warmly - despite his own feelings about her.
"Hey Stan, hey Wendy," Cartman said in an overly cheery voice, "how's South Parks most famous couple this morning?"
"Good," Stan answered quickly, before turning to greet Kyle.
"Hey Wendy," Cartman flashed her a smile, "did you and Stan work on that history homework together last night?"
"Yes, it took us over an hour, but we managed to get it all done," she replied in her annoying whiny voice.
Cartman grinned and nodded - he had knocked the same work off, by himself, in fifteen minutes and most of that time was taken up with having to make logical mistakes and spelling errors.
"What about you Kahl," Cartman asked, "did you get it done?"
"If you must know Cartman, I did some of it in the library during lunch break and finished it when I got home last night," the Jewish boy snapped.
Cartman could tell it was bothering Kyle - reminding him about Wendy and Stan spending time together. Before Wendy's latest campaign Kyle and Stan had always done their homework together.
Kyle continued, "Why are you so curious, do you need someone to copy off?"
Cartman pulled back and acted shocked, "Kahl my homework is all done. Ah was just making conversation."
"What, you got Butters to come round and do it for you," Kyle accused.
"Unlike some people Kahl, ah'm not desperate for the company of men on an evening."
Stan grinned when he heard Cartman's suggestive comment and Wendy hid her smile behind her hand.
"Like your mother you mean," Kyle retorted harshly.
"Shut up about my mom you worthless Jew!" Cartman shouted back - sometimes it's best to turn to the classics.
Kyle clenched his fists and stepped forwards, only to be interrupted by the arrival of Kenny.
"Hey Stan, Wendy," Kenny said, "are they about to kick off again?"
"Shut the fuck up Kenneh," Cartman was about to storm off when Stan interrupted him - letting everyone know that the bus was here.
Today wasn't much different from ant other day - as far as school was concerned. As for Cartman - today was frustrating. He knew all the answers - hell he knew more than the teachers. Sadly he had to act normal so he couldn't just start answering the questions in class. Pretending to be stupid was hard work. What made it so much worse, was the annoying know-it-all Jew - who always seemed to have his hand up to offer the right answers. By the end of class Cartman was longing to answer the teachers questions correctly, just to rub it in Kyle's face.
Cartman wasn't really looking forward to Ike's music lesson, after school. Normally it was a fun hour for both Eric and his student but today he had Kyle to deal with. The Jew seemed determined, today, to mess up everything.
Ike was already waiting in the music room when Cartman entered. The dark-haired Canadian was sitting at the piano, running through scales. He was precise and even - keeping up a good tempo and consistent volume. Cartman had told Ike, during one of their early lessons, that the smaller boy had the fingers of a musician - long and thin and so unlike Eric's own shorter, chubbier ones. Ike also had a natural ear and was a fast learner. Ideally, Ike should have moved on to a more advanced tutor months ago but the smaller boy had insisted on sticking with Cartman.
"Hey Ike," Cartman said as he approached the piano, "your scales are sounding good. Do you want to show me your practice piece now?"
Ike nodded and started to play, his hands moving easily to find the notes. He didn't need the music in his bag, as his hours of practice had locked the notes into his brain.
Cartman perched himself on the tall stool - behind and to the left of the younger boy. From his vantage point he could observe every finger stroke and movement. Ike was good but he wasn't getting the best out of the music. Until today Cartman had been unable to pinpoint just what Ike was doing wrong. The Canadian was technically flawless but the tune lacked an emotional presence. He thought about it more as the music continued.
Unseen and unheard by the two boys lost in the music - Kyle slipped into the music room. He was here, like he had promised, eager to watch Cartman in action. He quietly took a seat at the back of the room - he had agreed not to interfere with Ike's lesson unless Cartman did something offensive.
Ike had finished playing his piece and looked upwards towards Cartman expectantly. He knew that it didn't quite sound right and hoped his tutor could explain why.
"You're technically flawless Ike," Cartman started with, "but it lacked heart. You could feel that, right?"
Ike nodded sadly in agreement.
"Your mistake is that you're attacking the music like it's a maths problem. Imagine a deer ambling through a forest. It doesn't maintain an even pace. It slows up to search for a trail, it hastens from a sudden sound. You are trying to impose an even tempo on the music."
Ike nodded finally understanding.
"It's an easy mistake to make for anyone brought up in a world of modern music. Most of the music we hear every day has a fixed tempo - whether that's pop songs or background music in films and TV shows. It's what you're used to, it's what you expect." Cartman slipped off his stool to sit next to Ike on the piano chair. "A lot of classical music is written with a moving and flexible tempo. Listen to how ah play the same sonata"
Cartman's fingers ran easily over the keys - his eyes were closed as he reached for the emotions of the music.
Kyle, listening at the back of the room, could sense the difference straight away. Where Ike's performance was wooden and uncomfortable - Cartman gave the same piece an energy and passion. Kyle could almost see the deer skipping through the forest from Eric's description. He made the music sound beautiful.
The music came to an end, snapping all three out of their thoughts.
"Playing like that, finding the emotions in the music, adds a whole level of difficulty," Cartman told his pupil.
"So I have to play it the way you just did?" Ike asked.
"No," Cartman answered, "every deer has to find its own way through the forest."
Ike smiled, understanding Eric's point, "Will you play something special for me?" The younger boy asked.
Cartman returned the smile and gestured for Ike to take the stool. He closed his eyes again, searching his memories for a piece of music, before starting to play. Neither of the two brothers recognised the piece as Cartman played. The melody was simple at first, gentle and lilting, it almost reminded Kyle of a nursery rhyme. Then Eric brought his second hand into play - hitting the dark, deep notes with a pitched level of intensity. Instantly the simple melody took on a new thread - now it was a child being chased by a dark brooding presence. Kyle gasped as Cartman changed the tune completely - now the higher notes were teasing and mocking, the deeper note sad and vulnerable. As the piece reached its crescendo the two parts seemed to come together. Cartman's hands moved closer and closer until they were a blur in the centre of the piano. Then there was calm, all three boys seemed to be holding their breath and it was a long ten seconds before Ike spoke.
"That was amazing," Kyle could hear his brothers enthusiasm, "will I ever be able to play like that?"
"Maybe you will Ike," Cartman answered, "if you practice a lot."
It was only then that Ike noticed Kyle in the room. He looked puzzled for a second before asking, "Why are you here? Isn't mom picking us up?"
Kyle had no idea whether his mom was picking Ike up or not - but he had to say something, "I came to hear you play. I wanted to see how good you are."
Ike grinned slyly, "Checking up on us eh? What, did you think that Eric wasn't teaching me anything?"
Kyle blushed - that was exactly what he had been thinking but he couldn't admit that, "No, I just wanted to spend some time with my brother - is that a problem?"
Ike looked away - feeling slightly guilty now. Thankfully the awkward moment was interrupted by Cartman.
"Now Ike, the piece of music ah want you to practice for next week is tricky. At first it seems easy but the more you get into it the more you'll get out of it." On saying this Cartman handed Ike a folded up sheet of music.
Ike put the music into his backpack and ran out of the room. Kyle moved to follow but saw that Cartman was dawdling at the piano.
"Cartman I was wrong," the Jewish boy was a strong enough person to apologise to his enemy, "you are a good music teacher. Ike's lucky to have you."
Cartman raised his head to look at Kyle and smiled. Playing the piano was the one thing that relaxed him - made him release all his stress and rage. Right now he was feeling mellow and tranquil - hell he was even willing to be friendly with Kyle.
"It's alright Kahl. Ah can understand why you would question my teaching skills," Eric closed the lid on the piano and picked up his bag.
As they walked together, towards the door, Kyle asked, "By the way Cartman, what was that second piece you played called?"
Cartman flushed, the tune and every note had just poured out of him as he sat at the piano - completely improvised. It couldn't possibly have a name, as he had only just created it on the spot. He answered with the first thing that came to mind, "Mountain Town sonata"
Kyle's eyes stretched open as he took in what Cartman said, "Did you write it?" He asked, thinking it was something Cartman had spent months working on.
"Yes," Cartman admitted, "it's a bit over-dramatic but ah enjoy playing it."
By this time the two boys were exiting the school building. Kyle could see his mother's car parked and waiting for him, "Does my mom usually give you a ride?" He asked.
"Sometimes," Cartman answered. "Today ah have to get to the bank and ah need to pick up some groceries."
"You should come to our house for supper," Kyle offered, "Tuesday night my mom usually makes a pot roast."
In his head Cartman debated whether spending more time with the Jew was worth a proper cooked meal. It had been so long since he'd had a roast - his mouth was already salivating at the thought of it.
"As ah said," Cartman answered, "ah've got stuff to do and anyway, your parents might not want me there."
"I'll ask my mom now," Kyle replied quickly.
Cartman watched as Kyle ran over to his mother's car. He kept back - not wanting to appear too eager and desperate. After half a minute Kyle ran back over to him.
"My mom said that you're, more than, welcome Cartman," Kyle informed him. "We usually eat a little after seven."
Cartman nodded, "Ah should get there for, just before, seven then?"
Kyle smiled, "If you're early we can play video games. I'll have finished my homework before six."
"Ah'll try to get there early then," Cartman answered - feeling slightly uncomfortable. Normally Kyle would have said something to piss him off by now.
Kyle turned to walk to the car, "See ya later Fat-ass."
Cartman's mouth screwed up into a grin - it wouldn't be a conversation with Kyle if there wasn't some sort of insult.
Eric waited until the car had driven off before making his own way. He normally didn't enjoy walking but today he was feeling good - despite setting a brisk pace. He got to the bank much quicker than he usually did but didn't feel out of breath or sweaty. He pushed the worries that came with that thought out of his mind for now - he could think about it later, or not. It didn't take long for Eric to deposit the cash into his bank account. Originally he had planned to do this yesterday but events had distracted him. His next stop was at the grocery store - where he checked the reduced price shelf before grabbing his usual items from the shelves. He didn't indulge himself with any of the tempting sweets and snacks - he just bought the basic food items; milk, eggs, cereal, juice and bread. All store brand and all cheap. He also bought; peanut butter, cheap meat spread, grape jelly and cereal bars - as well as his selection of dreaded microwave meals.
Without even realising, Eric's brain was adding up the totals as he went along. He didn't have to, consciously, think about it - it was kind-of kewl. While he waited for his turn at the register, Eric pulled his re-usable grocery bag out of the side pocket of his backpack. He didn't use it because he cared about the environment but because the store charged for their bags. Every cent counted after all. The woman working the register appeared even more bored than the customers, as she ran items quickly through the infra-red bar-code scanner.
The stores cheesy music was really starting to get to Cartman. He could see every note as it played out - it was like the score was being written out in his brain while the music played. The same thing had happened when he passed by a store assistant who was listening to music on his mp3 player. Not only could Eric hear the tunes, as easily as if the ear buds were in his own ears, but he could also visualise and identify the songs as they played out. It was as if every piece of music he had ever heard was stripped down to its individual component parts - then filed away for easy access. It was slightly freaking him out.
It was Eric's turn at the till and he handed over his coupons and money without really thinking much. His thoughts were rather occupied after all. When he was handed back his change, however, something didn't feel right. He took a look at the coins in his hand - rather than just dumping them into his pocket, like usual. A couple of the coins were duds - coins from various South America counties. Of similar size and appearance to real US money but worth much less. Cartman stood there for a second, unsure what to do. His natural reaction would be to complain - make as much of a row about this as possible.
"Miss, you've given me some foreign coins in my change," Cartman said as politely as possible.
"Move on you're holding up the line," was her dismissive reply.
Behind him, Eric could feel the presence of other shoppers starting to get agitated.
"What," Cartman said sarcastically, raising his voice to challenge the woman - it was almost like he couldn't help himself, "are you planning to slip them fake change as well?"
"Do you want me to call security?" The assistant hissed.
"No but ah think someone should get the manager," Cartman replied loudly, "ah'm sure he'll be interested to know that you're stealing off of the customers."
Just then a management type walked up - a security guard with him, "Is there some sort of problem here?"
"This customer refuses to leave," the register woman said quickly.
"She's giving out foreign coins, rather than real change, to customers," Eric said in retaliation.
"That's a serious accusation," the manager said. "Do you have any proof?"
"You mean apart from the coins in my hand and the foreign coins she's got on her person?" Cartman raised an eyebrow, "Does she have family living abroad somewhere?"
"Are you accusing one of our employees of deliberate theft?" the manager appeared annoyed.
"It wouldn't take more than a few seconds for your security person to check," Cartman countered. "Try the right pocket on her jacket."
The teller was backing up now - looking afraid, "You can't just search me. You don't have my permission."
"Maybe they can't," Cartman said triumphantly, "but the police can."
Cartman indicated towards a uniformed officer who was waiting in the queue with a couple of boxes of doughnuts, coffee and milk.
The manager rushed to fetch the officer while the security guard eyed the woman distrustfully. As the manager was explaining to the police officer what was going on - the woman saw a chance to make a break for it. She clearly thought that if she dumped the fake change she had in her pockets - then she could return and proclaim her innocence later. The security guard was waiting for her to make her move, however. He easily blocked her escape and held her firmly by the shoulders.
"Let go of me," the woman screamed before spewing a volley of curse words - mainly in Portuguese but with some Spanish thrown in.
Cartman listened intently to what she was saying. He had always been good with languages but now, he suspected, he would be able to speak and understand any number of them fluently.
"You have been caught - act with dignity," Cartman said in perfect Portuguese.
The woman stopped and stared at the boy who had foiled her thieving. There was something about him that dominated and commanded any situation. She stopped struggling and sank back into her chair, cowed.
It didn't take long for the police office to sort everything out. The waiting customers had moved over to other registers as the manager closed this one down. He also apologised to Cartman and thanked him for helping catch the criminal. He finished off by handing Eric a book of store vouchers to the value of fifty dollars and telling him that he was a valued customer.
Cartman left the grocery store slightly stunned by everything that had happened. The events had seemed to leap out, like in a story. He was clearly struggling to adjust to his improved hearing and analysing abilities. He wondered whether it would be a good idea to skip the meal at Kyle's house. Then he worried that, by not showing up, he would only attract more questions and interest from the Jewish boy. In the end he decided to go. He was already adjusting to the improved hearing and, given the way his eyes were developing a zoom feature, sound was the least of his problems. As he walked home, he experimented by staring at things in the distance. Each time he stared, for more than a few moments, the area he was looking at would appear to rush towards him - always in perfect focus. The first few time it happened Eric couldn't help but think that it was kewl - but, after a few minutes, he was beginning to feel a little nauseous. He tried looking around continuously - but the zoom kept triggering, faster and faster. Finally, in desperation, he shut his eyes and focused his mind on calming down. It must have seemed weird, to anyone who drove past him, but it worked. When he opened his eyes again the zoom feature was under his control - it didn't happen unless he wanted it to.
The living room was a bit of a mess, Cartman noted as he stepped into his house. While he'd been at school his mother must have returned. He couldn't hear her upstairs and with his improved hearing he would - even if it was only her heartbeat while she slept. She must have been and gone - either crashing at the house while he was at school or coming back to pick up some of her things. By things Eric included her clothing, her drug paraphernalia and her numerous sex toys. It was easier to think of everything together and less disgusting that way.
Cartman unpacked his shopping into the fridge quickly. It wasn't that he was running late but that he hated how depressing his life had become. He could still recall the times when his mom greeted him warmly after school and cooked delicious meals. His younger self had taken it all for granted. Now he was so deprived of a good meal that he was willing to run the gauntlet of Kyle's mom to get one.
Eric moved quickly upstairs next. He hadn't taken off his backpack or coat. There was no heating on in the house and he didn't bother to put it on for the brief amount of time he was going to be here. He swung his backpack onto his bed and opened it - pulling out the homework he had for the day. His bag was yet another thing that was in need of replacing. he mentally added it to the list of things he needed but couldn't have.
Cartman worked quickly to finish his homework. There was no need to reference his notes or textbooks, as he had it all stored in his mind. He was even finding it easier to include the mistakes. In no time he had finished. A glance at his bedside clock told him that it was a little after five - still too soon to head to Kyle's house. He straightened and tidied his room - repacking his backpack for tomorrow. Cartman wasn't used to having much free time during the week but his new abilities were letting him get through everything so much faster. He decided to catch a shower and change into nicer clothes. The hot water was refreshing against his skin.
As a fat kid, and yes he could admit that now - although only to himself and not to others, Eric had never been as bothered by the cold weather as his friends. It was only when he had started losing the weight, in the last year or so, that he had started to notice the cold. South Park was a cold, bleak town. It was hard for him to find any reason why anybody would choose to live here. Being born in this town wasn't a justification for living here, in Cartman's opinion. He felt no nostalgia for his childhood haunts - hell it was hard to remember the few brief times when he had been genuinely happy.
Eric reluctantly left the shower as the water started to turn cold - watching as the stress of another day ran down the drain. He dressed quickly - the cold was a good motivator. Choosing to wear his newest, and therefore narrowest waisted, pair of jeans. Even so, they were loose on him. He sighed - new clothes were another expense he could do without.
Eric still had a little time before he wanted to set off for Kyle's. He decided to spend it writing out the tune he had played earlier onto a blank sheet of music paper - one of his few indulgences. It didn't take long - his pencil flew across the page as he recalled every note. As he wrote he could hear the music and the deep emotions it drew from him. Shrugging the mood off, Eric put the filled in sheet music away and stood up. He grabbed his jacket and hurried downstairs.
The walk to Kyle's house was short and before Eric knew it he was stood in front of the Broflovski residence. The door was opened by Kyle, only a few seconds after Cartman had knocked. The Jewish boy smiled and showed Eric into his warm home.
"Hello Eric," Shelia said in greeting, "I'm so glad you could join us this evening."
"Thank you Mrs Broflovski," it was hard for Cartman not to compare the warm and lived-in home with his own austere house. "It's very kind of you to invite me."
"C'mon Cartman," Kyle tugged at Eric's arm, "lets go up to my room. We can play video games - since I've just finished my homework."
Cartman nodded, handed over his jacket and allowed himself to be lead upstairs. Ike was waiting for them on the landing.
"I've already started practising the new piece you gave me," the younger boy said - clearly excited about having his music teacher in his home.
"That's kewl Ike," Eric replied, "maybe you can play something for all of us after dinner?"
Ike smile and nodded in agreement before rushing into his bedroom.
Kyle pushed his door open and stepped into the room, with Cartman following quickly behind. the room was how Eric remembered it from the last time he had been here - even though it was only a few months ago.
Kyle had one of those all combined entertainment systems. The wide-screen computer monitor also served as his TV and was connected to his PS3. Kyle sat on his computer chair as he turned everything on.
"Lets go two player on Black Ops," Kyle suggested - while inserting the disk into the games console.
Cartman nodded in agreement as he picked up the second controller. Black Ops wasn't a game he had spent a lot of time on - given that his mother hadn't bought him any video games in over two years, even then they had been second-hand and cheap. He had played the earlier games enough to know how to work his character on the screen and had, at least, played the game a few times at Stan and Kyle's houses.
Kyle liked to play the game on hardcore - where one hit could kill your character, rather the been able to soak up damage. Cartman tended to agree. In real life, if a bullet hit you, you were dead - no health bar, no second chances.
It was soon clear that, although Kyle had all the levels memorised and knew all the best places to hide and shoot from, Eric was the one with the faster reactions and better hand-eye co-ordination. He memorised the maps as he played and, despite Kyle's initial advantage, soon it was Cartman who was clearly the better player.
"You've gotten good at this Cartman," Kyle commented as he lobbed a grenade into a crowded area.
Cartman smiled at the honest complement, "Ah guess ah'm just on it today," he replied - maintaining his concentration on the screen.
"You wanna go on-line?" Kyle asked.
"Yeh," Cartman agreed, "lets kick some asses."
For the next half hour the two boys sat silently trading off turns on the game. Too into the on-screen violence to fight with each other.
Kyle lifted his head up when he heard his dad pulling up in the driveway, "This will have to be the last turn Cartman," he told the boy who was currently gripping the controller.
Eric just nodded - his eyes were fixed on the action in front of him. His character jinked and moved - racking up the kills while dodging everything that came at it. Kyle couldn't believe what he was seeing - Cartman was like a one man army.
As the game ended Kyle stared at the scores on the screen. His best score of the day had been a modest count of twelve kills and eight deaths - it was a reasonable return for him. Cartman had just produced a remarkable score - forty-seven kills and no deaths. Even as Kyle looked at it, he still found it hard to believe.
Eric excused himself to the bathroom while Kyle put away the game and tidied up his room. Splashing water on his face, Cartman tried to tell himself that Kyle wouldn't suspect anything. Knowing that he shouldn't have tried so hard on the game and cursing that he lost control because he got so into it. Maybe, he tried to tell himself, Kyle will just think that I've had a lot of practice.
The two boys passed by each other outside the bathroom. Cartman to go downstairs and Kyle to wash up.
"You were awesome on Black Ops Cartman," Kyle said as he entered the bathroom.
"Probably just lucky," Cartman managed to reply, before hurtling down the stairs.
Kyle stood, puzzled, after hearing Cartman's words. It wasn't like the Fat-ass to not boast and brag about something like this. The Cartman Kyle knew would be ramming it in everyone s face, taking a photo of the scores on the screen to show to everyone at school and generally acting like a complete ass. Why wasn't Cartman making a big deal about this?
Eric, meanwhile, had offered to lay the table for Mrs Broflovski. He was being extra-polite in the hopes of future invites. Sure Kyle's mom was a loud-mouth bitch - but she could cook like a demon and her portions were generous.
Kyle and Ike came down together - just before their mother went to call them. Eric couldn't help but smile when he saw Kyle's reaction to his polite behaviour. The red-head scowled at first before stopping - wiping the look off his face before his mother spotted it.
Kyle was actually thinking about other things. He had been asking around about Cartman. From what information he could gather, the Fat-ass had things pretty bad at home. Wendy had pointed out Eric's loss of weight and the fact that he hadn't had any new clothes for, more than, a year. Kenny had told him how cold and empty the Cartman home was. How the fridge and food cupboards were mostly empty - save for store brand cereals, bread and microwave dinners. Stan had told him about Eric using his tutoring money to pay for the food and utility bills.
When Kyle first saw Cartman acting all nice and polite towards his parents he had been annoyed - his first instinct was to suspect the Fat-ass was up to something. Then he had stopped himself. Cartman was only being nice in the hopes of future invites. How was that any different from Kenny - who had dinner at Kyle's house twice a week? No kid deserved having to live how Cartman was living. Kyle shook off his initial anger and instead sent a warn, genuine smile towards the other boy.
"So tell me Eric, how have you been?" Shelia Broflovski asked.
Cartman swallowed the food he was chewing. He had been careful to eat normally - despite devouring the food with his eyes, "Ah've been good Mrs Broflovski. Ah've managed to loose a little weight."
Shelia nodded approvingly, "You're not just dieting are you. Dieting heavily isn't good for children. You should also be getting plenty of exercise."
"Ah've actually managed to put on some muscles," Cartman shyly admitted - not revealing the truth behind them.
"That's good," Gerald Broflovski commented, "are you thinking about trying out for any sports?"
"Ah haven't thought about it," Eric admitted, "ah'm not sure ah'd have the time though - what with school work and giving piano lessons."
The truth was that, with his new abilities, Eric would excel in sports. Being good at sports could earn him a free ride into college - something to think about for the future, maybe. Sports would come with risks though. Did he really want to attract all that public attention? Would he be able to keep his powers secret under those conditions?
"We're very pleased with how Ike is progressing with the piano," Shelia said while offering Eric a second helping of potatoes
"Ah think that he's ready to move up to a more advance tutor," Eric informed them. "Ah normally only teach introductory, beginner and intermediate. Ike's about ready for advanced classes."
He hated to say it, given that it would cut into his monthly income, but it was true. Eric always tried to do the best for his students. He usually recommended Mrs Cherry - a woman who lived in North Park. She returned the favour to him by passing new starter pupils, in South Park anyway, to him.
"I don't want another teacher, I want Eric," Ike said loudly and insistently from his seat at the end of the table.
"Ike your father and I shall decide who your piano teacher will be - not you. Now eat your vegetables," Shelia dismissed her sons complaint without thinking.
"Ah must admit," Cartman said - seeing Ike's sad expression, "your son is quite a few years younger than most advanced students. Maybe he wouldn't be comfortable with having a more serious tutor."
"Are you qualified to teach advanced piano Eric?" Gerald asked.
"Ah am," Cartman acknowledged, "but ah usually don't because the pupils tend to be my age and older. It would be different with Ike - but as ah say, it should be your decision."
As the Broflovskis moved on to discuss other, family, matters - Eric concentrated on enjoying his meal. The pot roast was delicious - especially for someone who hadn't had a good meal in a long time. The potatoes were heavenly - Eric even enjoyed the vegetables. The whole dinner only brought more into focus how crappy his usual fare of microwave meals were. When Mrs Broflovski produced a home-made trifle, from the fridge, he almost kissed her.
After dinner Ike went to fetch his keyboard while Kyle did the washing up. Eric offered to help but was told, in no uncertain terms, that he was a guest and he should just relax. Cartman accepted this with only a brief apologetic look towards Kyle. Fortunately he only had to make awkward small-talk with Kyle's parents for a few minutes before Ike returned with his keyboard.
"What should I play?" Ike asked Eric after he had finished setting up.
"Start with the piece you learned a few weeks ago - 17c," Cartman suggested.
Ike nodded and began to play. It was a gentle and lilting tune, ideally suited to an electronic keyboard. When he had finished he turned to look at Eric for his opinion.
"You didn't miss a note Ike," Eric told the younger boy - before turning to Ike's parents, "you know, if you really want Ike to progress musically, he needs a proper piano."
Kyle had finished in the kitchen and had just joined them, "Why does he need a piano? Isn't his keyboard good enough?"
Eric smiled, "With a keyboard it's all about on and off with the keys. No matter how hard or soft you strike the key - it all sounds the same."
"And a piano is different," Kyle finished - finally understanding.
"A small upright piano doesn't take up much space and second-hand ones can be surprisingly affordable," Eric informed them.
"I'm not sure," Gerald Broflovski answered, "it is a considerable expense."
"Ike has access to a piano at school," Shelia pointed out, "isn't that enough?"
"That depends on how seriouslah Ike takes his music," Cartman replied, "as ah said - he is young."
Gerald and Shelia pause to think about what Eric has said. It was then that Ike decided to speak.
"Eric will you play something for us," the Canadian boy asked, indicating towards the keyboard.
Cartman nodded and moved to swap places with Ike. He knew how this keyboard worked. It was the same as the one he had at home. In fact he had recommended it for Ike. It didn't take more than a few seconds for him to switch the settings over, making it sound like a harpsichord, and launch into an all keyboard rendition of I've Got Something On My Mind by The Left Banke. He improvised extra chords and melodys to make up for the lack of other instruments. Cartman had never let his unconventional vocal style stop him before - and he didn't now. He loved to sing and his favourite songs were always the obscure ones that his friends had never heard of. Not just songs from before they were born - but hidden classics. The songs people had forgotten or never even knew. The next song he played was the David Bowie classic - Karma Man. For this he switched the keyboard to sound like the music that plays at the fairground. A song recorded by Bowie in the sixties, prior to his fame, and mostly ignored. For Cartman it was one of Bowies best songs. He finished off with a rendition of the R.E.M. song Camera - switching the keyboard back to piano. It was one of their earlier songs and a song Eric found it easy to relate to.
After he had finished, Eric looked up at each of the Broflovskis - they were looking slightly stunned.
"I never realised you were so good Eric," Shelia finally said.
Crap, Cartman thought, whatever is happening to me has done something to my singing voice.
"You were amazing," Kyle said, "better than that - you're as good as anyone I've heard on TV."
Cartman ducked his head in embarrassment, "Ah guess that puberty must have straightened out mah voice a bit."
Seeing their guests discomfort - Shelia turned to her youngest son, "Ike, it's getting near to your bed time. You should take your keyboard back upstairs and get ready."
Ike moved to follow his mom's instructions - but before rushing upstairs he turned to Eric and flashed a big smile, "Thanks for coming tonight."
"Ah had a good time," Cartman told Ike before turning to speak to the rest of the family, "ah really should be getting home myself."
Kyle escorted his friend to the door and opened it for him - while Cartman pulled his coat on, "See you tomorrow Cartman," he said as he held the door open.
"Yeah," Cartman replied, "thank you for having me over Kahl."
Kyle watched as Cartman trudged down the street. He couldn't help but see how the life and energy his friend had shown while singing had now drained away.
To Eric the contrast between his own house and the Broflovskis couldn't be more evident. He remembered how Kenny always used to look for excuses to sleep-over at his three friends houses, when they were younger. He had known at the time that Kenny's family were poor, his house was cold and that there was nothing to eat - he just hadn't cared that much. As he entered the house, he thought about how crappy his life was. Kids shouldn't have to worry about paying the bills and making sure they had enough to eat. Karma really was a bitch.
The whole house was cold and dark but despite this he could see well enough to make his way upstairs to his room. Once he'd locked his bedroom door - he flipped his electric oil heater on. It was cheaper to use, rather than run the central heating for the whole house, and after all he was only really going to be using this one room for the rest of the night.
As he stripped off he noticed how his clothes sat on his, now buff and well muscled, frame. He really did need to get himself some new clothes. He sighed as he laid down on top of his bed - thinking about anything other than his own life.
He must have drifted off because it was a few hours later when Eric was awoken by the sounds of someone outside his window. He moved quickly to see who it was.
"Kenneh?" Eric said as he fumbled, half-asleep to open the window.
"Hello Cartman," Kenny replied, "I wanted to have a word with you."
"What's this about poor boy - it's the middle of the night," Cartman managed to sound both sleepy and pissed-off at once.
"I know something is going on with you," Kenny told Cartman, "your mom didn't buy you a teachers copy of the exercise book."
"So ah found some other way to cheat - so what Kenneh," Cartman said defensively. "Maybe ah lied so that ah could use the same method to cheat again."
"That doesn't explain how you're able to run so fast," Kenny pointed out.
He must have seen me running the other day, Cartman realised. He tried to think fast.
"Haven't you noticed," Cartman sneered - trying to sound confident, "ah've been loosing weight for a while now - and exercising in secret."
"I don't believe you," Kenny said - his blue eyes focusing on Cartman with a deep intensity.
"Whatever Kenneh," Cartman tried to sound dismissive, "it's not your business and not your problem."
"I'm trying to help you Fat-ass," Kenny raised his voice, "I'm your friend."
"Some friend," Cartman snapped, "you always ditch me to sniff around the latest girl you're into."
Kenny paused - feeling slightly ashamed by what Cartman had said, "I'm sorry that I haven't been there for you as much as I should. You've been going through some tough shit and I missed it. I've been a bad friend - but I'm here now. Talk to me Cartman, please."
Eric swallowed hard - it was really tempting, the idea of being able to unload about everything that was going on, but could he trust Kenny?
"My mom's never around and ah've been having to look after myself," Cartman finally said - not ready yet to trust anyone about his new abilities.
"So that's why you've lost weight," Kenny reasoned, "your mom hasn't been feeding you."
"The other day," Cartman spoke tentatively, "those two cereal bars were my breakfast."
"You gave them to me," Kenny sounded surprised
"Ah knew that you probably hadn't eaten all weekend - it was OK," Cartman tried to dismiss his act of kindness.
"I appreciate it man," Kenny finally moved to sit down on Cartman's bed, "my parents aren't the best at providing for us but at least they're there - to talk to and stuff."
Cartman pulled the window shut and sat down next to Kenny, "That's what ah miss the most, not the food and presents, my mom being there when ah get home from school - fussing around and chatting to me while ah try to watch TV."
Kenny nodded, understanding, and patted his friend on the back.
"She stole money from me to pay for her drugs and partying," Eric said quietly, "money that ah'd earned."
"You've had it rough," Kenny said, "and your behaviour has pushed people away and prevented anyone from helping you."
"Thanks Kenneh," Cartman smiled gently, "talking to you has really helped."
Kenny stared at Cartman, not speaking for a few seconds. He looked slightly shocked, "Are you taking anything?"
"What?" Cartman was surprised by the random question, "No," he finally answered, firmly.
"Your eyes have turned silver," Kenny informed his friend.
Cartman silently cursed and thought quickly of an excuse, "Ah've been using eye-drops to help with my headaches. Ah think the label said something about loosing colour pigment in your eyes."
Kenny stared hard at Cartman - trying to judge whether he was being lied to or not. It was hard to say - given how Cartman sometimes convinced himself with his own lies. He decided to let it go - seeing as Cartman had finally opened up about his family situation. Kenny knew that there was more going on but Cartman wasn't exactly the most open person and pushing him now would only make things uncomfortable.
"If people found out that ah was living like this - ah'd be put into an orphanage," Cartman spoke quietly, it was something he had thought about a lot.
"I won't say anything," Kenny promised.
"Ah think that Stan and Kahl have guessed."
"You don't have to worry Cartman, they know how to keep quiet," Kenny placed a reassuring hand on his friends shoulder and was surprised to feel the firm muscle there.
"Do you wanna crash tonight?" Eric asked as he climbed back into bed.
"Sure," Kenny replied - kicking off his boots and throwing off his jacket and jeans before getting into the other side of the bed. "Beats sleeping on a second-hand mattress in a cold, rat-infested shit hole."
Cartman fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Authors Notes: Super Hero won the battle of the stories. Some people reviewed this story saying they actually preferred the other story. Sorry but I was counting the actual review numbers.
Anyway this is a really long chapter - it took me over a week to type it up (lol). I've also been sick with a nasty bought of flu.
The three songs Cartman sings are all personal favourites of mine. Extra Kyman hugs to anyone who searches them out.
Kyman love to all my readers, cell12.