A/N: Special thanks to my betas, Lady Mayflower and TEP Redux!
I do not own South Park, all rights reserved to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.
II. Cartman- Fall
In which Cartman realizes his constant over- and under-estimation of others.
I have a lot of enemies.
No matter how amazing and brilliant my plans are, there's always someone trying to get in the way of my success. Let's take, for example, that motherfuckin' kike Kyle. Like any Jew, he's untrustworthy, greedy, and out to keep me from getting any money. People like him want all the money in the world to themselves. The only reason we got stuck hanging out together so much is because our moms have to be such good friends. As much as I hate him, though, it's not always so bad. It's worth having him around if I get to make his life a living hell. That Jew's getting what's coming to him.
Then there's that goddamn pussy Stan, who has to be such a fucking sensitive human being. And yes, there are so many problems with that. I hate it when Kyle gets the upper hand because his stupid butt-pirate comes in to save him all the time. And then they always flip things on me so that I'M the one who gets in trouble when THEY'RE the ones conspiring against me!
Oh, yeah, and then there's Kenny, but he's cool. Apart from the fact that he's dead, but whatever, he does that all of the time. Such a piss-off that everyone thinks I had something to do with it; bet Kyle and Stan are the ones behind spreading that, fuckin' queers. I would own this damn town if it weren't for those two always gettin' in my way. Or so I thought.
Turns out I overestimated the wrong people, and somehow underestimated the true threat to my plans. That's right, the threat is singular and takes the human form of none other than Wendy Testaburger.
I hate that fucking bitch.
She goes around like she owns the school, preaching nothing but hippie bullshit and shoving it down our throats. The day she was elected ninth grade representative to the SGA, I knew that it would be up to me to fight her hippie agenda for the future. There's an old saying that goes, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," and that was exactly what I planned to do. Unfortunately, freshmen don't get as much liberty with choosing their classes, so aside from three periods, I don't see her much during the day. But then came the announcement, my golden ticket to destroying that hippie prude once and for all: the Debate Team.
It was perfect. I'd go against Wendy and take her down with my obviously superior debating skills. Her motivation would tank! She'd be completely powerless! Then I'd never have to listen to her get up on her stupid soapbox and preach about love and civil liberties and having respect for women or any of her preachy hippie bullshit ever again.
The first day of Debate came, and the teacher split us up into groups. She said we would be doing Public Forum debate (which is basically Crossfire with less TV cameras), and that we'd be working in the same teams for the entire year. "Wendy Testaburger, you'll be working with Eric Cartman." 'Cause I've got a golden ticket, I've got a golden twinkle in my eye~
Our topic this term was capital punishment. Obviously, we picked sides right away: I picked for, because I believe in making crazy hippies pay for their crimes, and Wendy picked against because she's a pussy who thinks we should make our prisoners hold hands and sing fucking "Kumbaya." After our little...incident at Clyde's place, we met up after school the next day in the library to start researching. Surprisingly, it was actually going pretty okay.
Until somebody had to open her damn mouth.
"Why are you doing debate?" Looking up from my computer screen, I saw Wendy had her laptop half closed, staring at me with her sharp grey-blue eyes, like I was some frog she was trying to dissect. Only not, because hippies like her are probably more likely to free all the frogs in the biology labs before they get dissected 'cause animal rights or whatever.
I chose to try to keep my cool, so I returned my attention to my research, acting like I didn't hear her. But like any ho, she doesn't know when to shut up. "Cartman, I'm not stupid. I know you well enough that there is definitely an underlying scheme you have going on here, so you might as well cut the crap!"
That bitch may be a head shorter than me, but somehow she still manages to really set me off. So I looked her straight in the eyes and said, "Fine! So what if I have a grand plan? That's for you to keep your hippie nose out of!"
"Because whatever it is, it's my job to make sure you don't fuck things over for everyone like always! For all I know, you could be sending an assassin after Kyle!"
I burst out laughing, almost rocking back in my chair. "Wow, you are one dense bitch!" Then I paused for a second. "I mean, I've thought 'bout it before, don't get me wrong, but if I kill the lil' Jew, then I don't get ta humiliate him anymore, and where's the fun in that?" I could see her starting to steam, so I interrupted whatever she was going to say next with a big, cheeky smile. "But I'm flattered that you care 'bout me so much that you're askin' 'bout what my next big plan is. Such a cute, stupid ho, always askin' dumb questions."
"Don't you dare patronize me, fat ass!" she snapped, slamming her fist into the table and making the whole thing shake. "For your information, I'm not going to let you do this just so you can screw over me and my entire fucking future!"
"That's a lot of big talk comin' from a lil' shawty like you," I sneered. "'Sides, why do I need to screw you? I'm just here to beat you fair 'n square 'n be on mah merry way."
"Oh, that's just fucking rich, coming from a psychopath like you!"
"'Ey! I'm not a goddamn psychopath!"
"Oh really? How about when you vandalized the synagogue with your own shit on Kyle's Bar Mitzvah weekend?"
"Those kikes had it coming!"
"What about your constant need to sexually humiliate Kyle and Butters? Or when you turned half the town into neo-Nazis by having them blindly chant about killing the Jews? Or when you terrorized the country by teaming up with Cthulhu? Or when you locked Butters in a bomb shelter for a week? Or you sold everyone burgers that were shoved up your ass? Oh and let's not forget when you faked Tourette's Syndrome, when you made that movie about me killing Smurfs, or that time you pretended to be a Ginger and had us all kidnapped!"
"To be fair, I wasn't pretending to be a Ginger, I really believed it at the time! Besides, not like you're some kind of fuckin' saint! What about the time you pretended to be transgendered to use my private bathroom? Or went on that massive rampage against the cheerleaders as a Jelly Monster? Or that time you got in trouble for beating me up in front of the whole school?"
"You turned your dad into chili meat and fed it to Scott Tenorman!"
"I-!" ...I didn't have a comeback. All I could do was listen to the blood pumping in my ears and try not to punch that whore straight in the mouth. "Face it, Cartman, you're a psychotic masochist that's a menace to society! All because you can't stand other people being better than you, because you're going to grow up and be a nobody who lives with his mom for the rest of your life!"
"Okay. Let's make a bet on it."
"What?"
"If you think you're 'so much better than me,' put your socialist slut-money where your mouth is. Let's see who ends up being more successful by the time we graduate high school. The winner gets to rub it in the other person's face for eternity, and after college their first job has to be being the winner's bitch for the rest of their life."
"Define 'successful'."
"Whoever gets into the higher-ranked college… outside of Colorado!"
She thought about it for a moment then shot me a lip-glossed smirk. I did it again—I underestimated Wendy Testaburger. She gave me her hand, which I had to accept. No way I could back out like a bitch now. All I could do was return the cocky smirk.
"Deal."