Random tidbit: this was originally going to be the first chapter, but I decided that I needed more cowbell (you knew that joke was coming, admit it). Besides, I wanted to give the pageant and the Cartman thing a bit more background. Also, I'll feature Wendy's aunts (so far there are two) in a later chapter. Oh, and the last paragraph was completely on-the-fly, so now I have an unexpected new subplot. I love writing without an outline.
Oh, damn. I just realized a MAJOR goof. The Testaburgers are written as Wendy's mom's clan, but really, she'd have gotten the name from her dad. I'll have to think of some way around it, or change it completely. I'll leave it up for now, and if I edit it, I'll let you know.
If you enjoyed it, or have constructive criticism, please review!
Disclaimer: I don't own South Park.
Ch. 2: Sign Ups
It was traditional for most of the girls whose faces didn't actually stop clocks to participate in the annual Miss Cowbell Pageant. Therefore, Wendy Testaburger found herself dragged along with all of her friends to the sign-ups.
"Oh, come on, Wendy!" Bebe had said, when she'd announced that she had no intention of competing. "Everyone does it."
"I'm not going to. I find it extremely offensive that the town thinks it's entertaining – admirable, even – to show us off like cattle. In high heels," she added, lamely.
"But it's fun!" Red insisted. "Besides, it's traditional." Wendy shook her head.
"I'm not going to sign up. It's a violation of my principles." She smiled. "If it's that important to you guys, I'll support you. All of you. I just don't think I can, in good conscience, be considered as a Cowbell."
So, as always, Wendy had to go with the girls to sign up. What did they think, that she'd change her mind at the last moment? God knows her mother hadn't convinced her.
"But, Wendy!" Mrs. Testaburger had protested, when her daughter had told her that she wasn't participating. "The Miss Cowbell Pageant is a Testaburger tradition!" Wendy's grandmother had been the first ever Miss Cowbell, and her mother and aunts had also won the crown.
"I don't care, Mom."
"Honey, are you a lesbian?" Wendy sighed.
"Yes. The only possible reason I wouldn't want to be dressed up in uncomfortable clothes and shown off like a doll is because I like girls. Way to support the stereotype, Mother."
"Really?"
"No! Mom, I'm straight."
"Are you sure? You broke up with that nice Stan Marsh. And Token Black. And Kyle Broflovski."
"I'm not going to participate in the pageant. And the fact that I don't have a boyfriend has nothing to do with it." Before her mother could say a word, Wendy went upstairs and put on her music as loud as possible.
Wendy smiled, as she recalled it. Her mother had always hated Jack Off Jill.
"What do you think, Wendy?" Heidi's question pulled Wendy out of her thoughts.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"We were wondering if Heidi should wear a green evening gown," Bebe explained. She, of course, had already decided to go with red. Bebe wasn't a slut, as rumor had it, but she loved to be the center of attention. Boys' attention, mainly.
"I dunno," Wendy replied. "What kind of dress are you going to get?"
"I don't know," Heidi admitted. Then Lola suggested that she wear something with a low back, and the girls went off into a rapid-fire discussion that Wendy could barely follow. Why had she come? She didn't want to join up, and whoever was in charge would think she was strange for not wanting to join up, like everyone else in the town.
Then Wendy Testaburger witnessed a very strange and disturbing sight.
"What's up, ho?" Wendy rolled her eyes.
"Shut up, Cartman." The annoying fat boy had decided to stand behind her in line. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I'm here for the same reason everyone else is. To sign up."
"Oh, you're so funny," she replied, sarcastically.
"Who said I was joking?" Wendy blinked, and then burst out laughing. "Shut up, you skinny bitch!"
"In case you didn't notice, this is the Miss Cowbell Pageant. Unless there's something you'd care to tell me?"
"That's exactly right. The Miss Cowbell Pageant. Don't you find that extremely sexist?"
"Of course I do. That's why I'm not signing up."
"I don't mean that. I mean sexist against males. I thought hippies hated sexism."
"First of all, I am not a follower of sixties fashion trends, a prostitute, a gardening implement, or a female dog. So kindly stop referring to me as such. Second of all, what the hell are you talking about?"
"I want to compete in the Miss Cowbell Pageant. Or, as it should properly be called, the Gender-Neutral Cowbell Pageant. Oh, I'd better remember that. Anyway, why should I not be allowed to compete just because I have a dick when you're allowed to not be able to cook and clean when you have a vagina?"
"You fucking asshole!"
"Please, Wendy. I am not an anus, so stop referring to me as such. But don't you agree?"
"Why should I agree with your fifties female stereotypes?"
"I meant that the Miss Cowbell Pageant is sexist by not allowing boys to compete." Wendy opened her mouth to counter his argument, and then was horrified. He was right. As much as she hated the pageant, and how much more she hated Cartman, he had a valid point. "I thought as much. But I will be the first male contestant in the Miss or Mister Cowbell Pageant. I talked to Mayor McDaniels about it, so it's all kewl." Although his voice had gotten a little deeper over the years, the annoying accent had remained. This, coupled with his smarmy grin and outdated view of women, made Wendy want to slap him. "So you can just go and get married and pop out a few babies while I win the title of Mister Cowbell."
"I'll be damned if I let you win, Cartman." She turned to her girlfriends. "Hey, ladies? I've decided that I'm going to compete, after all." They squealed with joy, and surrounded Wendy, giving her style tips. But Cartman could still see Wendy flip her long hair and give him a sly smile.
Goddamn, do I hate that bitch, he thought. It'll be fun beating her scrawny ass.
Behind him, a girl with short blonde hair got in line. Not that Cartman cared. Yet.