What are the restrictions of wrong and right? From experiences I know surely they don't fall neatly into perfect shapes. They don't have any preferred shade, tone, or color. Morality paints itself when ever and what ever morality fucking feels like. Killing is justified if it stops one that kills, right? Love is harmful when it destroys the beloved. Yeah. That's it.

Then at one point, morality- this crazy mofo- stops blending and shifting and a clear vision can be seen that contradicts our reality. Some things shouldn't happen but God be fucking damn if they don't. Babies shouldn't die. Cancer shouldn't be real. War is bad. But there there it is, happening right in right of us. So maybe...maybe it's not so crazy to believe that this can be real.

_X

I look over the plain of my papers and watch him snack greedily on the chips. I hate how easily he can make himself at my house. He puts his feet up and leans comfortable into the sole couch of the room.

"Is there a TV in here?"

"It's a study." We were supposed to be doing a black history project and this lard ass wants to watch TV. Typical.

"I thought you were rich!"

"You don't put TVs in studies." He grumbles something about this being fucking lame and the subject is dropped.

Cartman hasn't changed much personality wise sine elementary school. He is still terrorizes Kyle over being a Jew, Kenny for being poor. He is still the most hated dick in the entire school but we all just learn to live with his bullshit. He is still fat-ass but instead of getting wider he has gotten taller. He is easily the strongest dude in our junior class, maybe even the school. If he wasn't such a lazy fuck, he probably be pretty decent at football. But instead he likes to sit and whine during gym class.

Without lifting my head away form my essay, I study the boy on the couch. Girls find him repulsive but I wouldn't exactly call him ugly. He has a desirable eye color or whatever but they were usually filled with childish anger or murderous glee. If he wasn't such a asshole about everything, he might snag a pathetic, desperate, and horny girl. Or maybe a pathetic, desperate and horny girl that just doesn't live in South Park... Or a desperate, horny, and gay guy.

"What the fuck?" I mutter to my self. Why am I trying to get Cartman laid? I force myself to feel disgusted and gross but the feeling never comes naturally. I should feel icky about Cartman fucking some random, desperate person but the intended sickness is late to arrive.

" Could you please get off your fat ass as do something worth while?" I glare at my "partner" from across the table. He lazily lounges on my plush sofa chomping on chips, not having a care in the world. There is nothing elegant or lovely about this douche. Maybe no one would want to fuck him. I could see the mirth in his eyes as the cheesy residue smears into the expensive fabric.

"But Token., I think Ms. Fitzgerald would be more impressed with an authentic black history project." I hate that patronizing tone his uses with me. Clenching my pencil tighter, I narrow my eyes.

"Authentic?"

"Yeah. You know, one made by a black person. This isn't my history, it's yours so it's your duty to record it." Cartman reasons as he grabs another handle full of chips.

"Black history is American history fat ass." I correct him.

"Nah-ah! February is black history month and all the other months are for white people who actually did something for history." I take a deep breathe. I can't let my anger slip. I can tell that's what he wants. Asshole.

"Well it's February and I'm not doing this project alone."I try making my voice hard and deep. I've been told it's a great motivator but Cartman is unfazed.

"But Toeeee-cannnnnn-" God I'm going to kill him. " Your a much better student than me." No lying there. I had a 4.0 GPA and was in Colorado's Nation Honor Society. But I don't like to brag...A lot."Your essay would be much better than anything I can come up with." True. "Besides, minorities get extra points for effort."

"What the fuck's your problem?" I've taken a lot of crap over the years. I'm the only black kid in my high school and heard ever black joke ever made and then some. I've taken the stigmas and associations through out the years with grace. Fine, I'm South Park official Guide into the word of Black People, I accept that, but Cartman's shit was always too much to handle.

"I gotta know man, why are you so racist? So ignorant?"

He is taken back and astonished. "Me? Racist? Uh! Just because I believe in you mino-"

"See? That shit is racist!"

"Dude, I'm not racist. Your racist for even saying I'm racist!"

His ignorance is quiet literally giving me a headache. I push myself away from the mahogany desk and pace my lavish study. I could feel his grubby little eyes follow me back and forth.

"How am I racist?" I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that I am racist. I wouldn't take should an accusation from Eric Fucking Cartman. No way.

"By insinuating that I'm racist."

"But you are though." I could hear my voice get rough and on edge.

"Nah-ah. Just cause your black doesn't mean you can go and start calling me racist. Obama won't be president forever Token. Watch your step!" My foot falls harder on the soft carpet. Deep breaths.

"Look I'm not an never will be a minority. I can't understand what ever you're trying to say to me but look at it like this, at least you are one of the few that made it out of the hood!"

I stop. Slowly, my head turns towards him with a deadly silence.

"What?"

"Yeah. Your not one of those poor, dangerous blacks. You are one of those rich blacks that will marry a white woman and then cheat on her with a bunch of other white woman. You are Tiger Woods black people. The good kind"

I didn't know what happen. One minute, I am stand up and the next I am dragging this two hundred eighty five pounds of teen to the floor and bashing his face with my fist. I could feel him gasp under me. My fist smashes against his cheek and I do it again and again waiting for the satisfying crunch of a broken bone.

Instead, I hear him laugh into each blow. Without much effort, he flips me over and the situation turns. He is on top of me smirking like a mad man. Blood from his nose and mouth leak into his red swastika shirt. I'm huffing. I try to squirm free but the white boy is surprisingly stronger then me. A lot stronger than me.

"Get the fuck off me!" He doesn't move and decides to stare me down. His not so ugly eyes are filled with that homicidal glee I know too well.

"See this is the problem with minorities. The don't know their place at the bottom."

"Fuck you!" I growl and I'm renewed with more angry energy. But his massive thighs are more muscle then fat and I am effectively pin down between them. My brown eyes glare up at him as I wonder what horrible hate crime he would comit-

The fat ass leans forward and as I prepare for spit or something worst, he touches his lips to mine. The peck is soft and light but I feel it throughout my whole body. My mind shuts down and I can't input any information- not even the weight of his large body. The only thing that comes in is his lips.

Slowly, he pulls off of my dark lips. He isn't smirking anymore, his face is blank and bruised. Breaking the kiss brings me back to reality. He shifts his weight on top of me. His groin is on my stomach and I don't have a problem. He just kissed me and I don't have a problem.

See? I should hate this. Everything that in the world dictates that I should hate being pin down by this asshole. This is wrong, no way around it. Cartman doesn't want to kiss me. I don't want him to kiss me. If he kissed me, I shouldn't like it. But God be mother fucking damn if it didn't happen like that.

We stay in our positions and allow the gravity of what just happen to sink in. Eric is staring at me but I can't meet his gaze and prefer to look at the hilarious folds in his stomach. My breath is shallow and rapid beneath his body pressure. The air is still and even. Everything moves at a monstrously slow pace as if the world is taking time out of it's schedule to deal with this paradox.

"Is it racist to say that you taste like chocolate?"

Fucking asshole.

Done. My friend suggested that I do TokenXCartman for the second chapter and this idea stuck in my mind. I think I might do one from Cartman's point of veiw one day so everyone will get the full story. So why don't you tell me what you think? What...what? I can't hear you...I suppose you need to write it in a review. Yes? Thanks you!