Fight Fear WIth Fire
First off, I would like to thank xxx0BlackRose0xxx for being awesome and reviewing! A big hug for you! This chapter is centered around Cartman. Yep.
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. *facepalm*
Chapter Two: The Sore Loser Gets What He Wants- Eric Cartman's determination reaches a whole new level. -Cartman's POV-
Hope you like it!
"Mmmph mmm mmm phmmm mm!" Kenny sang, just before the band failed.
"Damn it, Kenneh! This is why we don't let you play Rockband with us!"
"Mmph mmm mmph mph!"
Cartman threw a drumstick at Kenny, who dodged it and it went through the television. "Shit," Cartman muttered, dislocating the wood. Kenny was just cracking up behind him. "This is your fault, asshole!"
"Eric, poopsiekins! What's wrong?"
"Nothing, mom!"
Kenny turned toward the door than back towards Cartman. "Mmph mm mph mmm?"
"Don't insult my mother, you poor piece of shit!" A spark from the broken television flickered behind him after his shout. He jumped forward and turned around. It was just sitting there now, it's broken screen reflecting his face innocently.
"Mmm mmm mphmm mm…" Kenny stated.
Cartman nodded. That was fucking weird. The door opened and his least favorite person walked in, followed by his gay butt buddy.
"Hey guys. Sorry we're late. Stan took forever to change because of his… uh… sunburn. What happened to the T.V.?" Kyle asked, words flowing out of his mouth like gum from a broken gumball machine.
Cartman rolled his eyes. "None of your business, Jew. Jesus, Stan, you look like a fucking tomato!" He was right. Stan's face was red, along with his arms. It wasn't like a normal sunburn; it looked like he'd gone to the sun and tried to get a tan.
"Thanks. That makes me feel better," Stan snapped, gingerly sitting on the bed. "So, what did happen to the T.V.?"
"Mmph mmm mphmm mph mph."
Stan laughed. "Oh. That makes sense."
"Why the hell did you get sunburned like that?" Cartman asked offhandedly, inspecting the damage on the television.
"I don't know. And Kyle already asked me why I passed out. I don't know. The nurse said it was heat exhaustion or some shit like that."
"Doesn't explain the burn," Kyle mumbled worriedly, looking at his best friend.
Stan grinned and shrugged. "You always overreact, Ky. Let's just go to the arcade."
*~*~*~*~*
Cartman had always loved air hockey, but he especially loved playing it with Kenny. Why? Because the two boys were the best air hockey players on the whole damn planet. As they played at the arcade, Cartman glanced up at the score. 9:8. 'Kenny's gonna cry when he loses,' He thought to himself, grinning. Kenny, who hadn't wasted his time counting his unhatched eggs, scored while Cartman was imagining his crying face.
"Wha-? Goddamn it!" Cartman said, grabbing the puck from the tiny slot.
This time it was Kenny who grinned. "In your face, fat ass."
Cartman flipped him off before setting the puck on the table, noticing a certain redhead floating in the corner of his eye. Ignoring the new audience, he hit the puck as hard as he could to Kenny's goal.
"Ooh! It's the match point!" Kyle exclaimed excitedly, hurrying to the side of the table.
Cartman grunted as Kenny blocked the hit and sent it flying towards him. "Shut the fuck up you stupid Jew," he snapped, trying to bounce it off of the wall to sneak it on Kenny.
"Watch out!" warned Kyle, allowing Kenny to notice the oncoming puck and deflect it.
"Damn it! Stop fucking helping him!"
Kyle pouted. "Pfft. Kenny can beat you without my help."
"Then let him!"
"I'm gonna!"
Kenny's grin turned into a frown as Cartman blocked another shot. He was determined to show the Jew that he was the master of this game. Not Kenny.
"Dude, he's totally gonna kick your ass," Kyle muttered to him.
Cartman just bit his lip and focused all of his concentration onto the game.
"Me and Stan have a bet, just to let you know. Obviously, my money's on Kenny."
Now money was involved? All the more reason to win. Stan and a few guys from school approached the table. Shit. Now he was going to embarrass himself if he lost. He hit with all of his might, and just when Kenny was about to block it, the puck swerved to the side, hit the wall, and shot into the goal.
"YES!" Cartman shouted, slamming his slider thing on the table and high-fiving Stan.
Kenny was staring at the table in shock, while Kyle was shouting, "What the hell was that? What the fucking hell was that?"
Cartman raised his eyebrows as he thought of a way to humiliate the Jew further. "Hey Kahl. How much money did you bet on the match?"
Kyle glared at him. "Ten bucks, and don't even think about gloating."
"Would you like your money back?"
"No shit I would," came the hasty reply.
Cartman turned to a Taxi Race game. "Listen up. We'll play Turbo Taxi. If you win, I'll give you twenty-five bucks. But if I win, you give me twenty. Sound fair?"
"Not really, but it's in my favor, so let's go." Cartman grinned. Little did Kyle know that he was the master at this game. He'd played it almost every weekend with Craig: another good player.
Kyle and Cartman climbed into the seats and stuck the tokens in the slots. "Ready to lose, Jew?" Kyle just rolled his eyes and picked his car. "What kind of car is that? It's fucking purple!"
"Shut up, purple's cool!" Kyle argued, his face slightly pink.
He just chuckled and picked his usual black car. As the game begun, he saw his competitor speed ahead of him. He quickly accelerated, determined to pick up the first customer. The time in the corner ticked down from five as a man in a business suit climbed into the car. The ticking restarted at 00:30, and he sped to get the guy where he wanted to go.
While driving, he glanced up at Kyle's screen, seeing that he was dropping off his first customer and driving away. The man got out of his car and he headed for the next arrow. "How you doin, Cartman?" Kyle asked smugly.
"I'm on my third person, asshole," Cartman lied, allowing the teenage girl to get into his car. "Hm, this chick's hot," he muttered, turning a corner. His car sped headfirst towards Kyle, who swerved out of the way and hit a lamppost. "That's gonna lose some tips."
Not slowing down, he dropped the girl off and grabbed his next person, who was only a block away.
Kenny and Stan showed up behind them. "Who's winning?"
"Kyle," Kenny said, ignoring Cartman's hiss to shut up.
The music in the game pounded in Cartman's ears, fueling his drive to win. It had always been a characteristic of Cartman's; taking things too seriously. To him it was not just a game; it was a way to put a daywalker Jew rat in his place. Why would he turn that down?
Once again, they were in the same position. One customer left, and only one of them could get her. On the same street they raced, constantly bumping each other and muttering swears. Finally, the old lady was in view. "Ha, see you in the winner's circle, loser," Cartman jeered.
"Yeah, I'll be there." Two blocks away. Kyle was ahead by a little bit. In a fit of desperation, Cartman focused all of his energy on the purple car. "What the fuck?" Kyle shouted as his car blew a flat tire and swerved off of the road. "What the hell was that?"
Cartman sighed and easily won the game, turning to Kyle to collect his money. "That will be twenty dollars."
"That's… that's cheating!" Kyle exclaimed.
Stan nodded. "Yeah dude, his car totally just blew a flat!"
"And that's my fault?" Cartman challenged, knowing deep in his heart that it was.
"Well…" Kyle mumbled, "I mean, it had to be! There's no way it just… please. You know it was you."
The large boy folded his arms. "All I know is that you owe me twenty, so cough it up, Jewboy."
Kyle hesitantly reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty. "That's the last of my money," he muttered quietly, pushing himself out of the seat and positioning himself between Stan and Kenny, both of which who were looking at Cartman with a strange face.
Cartman shrugged and walked into the bathroom, staring in the mirror. That was a strange moment back there. He remembered… when he focused all of his energy on the one car… how that jolt of energy had burst through him. Then the flat. What was that all about?
And the same thing had happened while they were playing air hockey. He'd concentrated all of his will on winning that game, and the puck had just changed course like a car would have.
He knew he could convince Stan, Kyle, and Kenny that these were all coincidences, but it would take a hell of a lot more persuasion to convince himself.
God, he was awesome.
Meh. Short chapter, don't kill me! I mostly like writing the Stan parts- there's more Kyle in there. But further in the story, Cartman will become more amusing to write. Because my two favorites are Kyle and Kenny, and this story is mostly about Cartman and Stan. It's just weird. So yeah, please review!
I'm not going to play the review game, but I'd really like to get at least three reviews before I post the next chapter. If I don't that's cool. But please, in the words of a movie I saw today, "Drag Me To Hell"... "I am a proud woman, Miss Brown, and I don't beg. But I am begging you..." normally now she begs for an extension on her foreclosure, but I'm begging for reviews!
By the way, you should see Drag Me To Hell. It scared the shit out of me!