This fic was never supposed to turn out this long. It turned into my usual sweet-and-sour crack fic though, so it shouldn't be too bad. Mainly based on the episodes Gnomes, Tweek X Craig and Cash for Gold, as well as some random other cameos I guess. This is my first South Park fic, so please don't kill me too dead for it.


Warning: This story pictures slavery in a typically South Park-ish fashion, that is with sarcasm and absurd humor. I just want to make it clear that I don't support the concept and that all stereotypical representations are meant to mock with no malicious intent. Also, if you were looking for a parody of "A Fistful of Dollars", you're knocking on the wrong door. My name isn't Comedy Central, so it's very unlikely that I own South Park.


The day was a fine one, for South Park anyway. The birds were singing and the grass was green (under the three feet of snow, that is), and the boys were spending a relatively normal day eating some nondescript fatty chicken by-product, walking back from the park after playing make-believe followed by a dubiously fair game of basketball (as usual, Cartman decided to change some of the rules halfway-through, leading to general outrage and a bunch of insults directed to our favorite ginger Jersey, which, as you will see, led to the conversation that we are now going to take a little peak on:

"...and that's why I can assure you guys that Kahl is Scott Malkinson's secret Siamese twin."

"That's bullcrap, dude."

"CARTMAN! This is the LAST straw! I'm Jewish, Jersey, and whatever else you wish to call me that doesn't necessarily start with a 'J'; fine, I know that, and I admit it's true. But you legitimately CAN'T rip on me for something that I am not! You've gone way too far this time, Fatass!"

"Wou we whet wim wip wiss wuts waut?" ("Should we let him rip his guts out?", courtesy of MumbletradsTM)

"Nah, he's the one holding the chicken right now, I don't want it to fall on the floor and get all dirty.").

They bickered amicably for quite a while, Kyle having to be held back a few times by a blasé Stan and seriously disinterested Kenny, when suddenly a cry of pure terror cut through the air, making the bluebirds twitter and flee the place in a panic and the dogs drag their unfortunately weaker owners through the half-melted slush of snow that they would soon discover to be full of various rodent droppings and other AIDS-infested glories from last summer. The boys looked up for a second, but only one out of the four of them remained concerned by the interruption for more than an instant.

"Dude, wasn't that Tweek?" asked Stan, his grip relaxing for a fateful second on his best bud's sleeve, giving him the opportunity he needed to soundly try and rip their fatter friend's throat out.

By some strange coincidence, Kenny managed to find himself in the line of fire and died in the process, but his corpse was only a source of distress to his companions for a few seconds before his curse kicked in and they turned back to the repeated yelling coming from Tweak Bros. Coffee shop.

"He must be seriously freaking out, that place is like, miles away."

"You think we should go and help out?" Kyle asked Stan, unsure whether he was actually bothered to go that far out. They were planning on going home and playing on the Gamesphere late enough to warrant a sleepover, not stuffing their noses into something that would probably turn into some daft adventure at some point or another.

"Hell no, no way I'm walking that far to help the spaz out, besides, Scott Malkinson Junior might faint on his way there from diabetes. No way I'm carrying the Jew's ass around, not even for a bucket of KFC."

As it turned out, Cartman did gain a bucket of skinless KFC for his efforts at being an asshole, Kyle too enraged for words pulling Stan over to the shitty coffee house just for the pure pleasure of defying Cartman and getting out of hearing range of his insults. As it turns out, the high-pitched screaming fit was not due to the fact that the place had run out of coffee (or meth, for that matter, despite later claims), but for a more distressingly rational reason to the common man.

Tweek was collapsed on the sidewalk in a sobbing heap, his trembling so intense that it probably registered on the Richter scale, whilst his ever-smiling parents stood over him.

"I'm sorry honey, there just isn't any other way we can keep the business on the road."

"Like the falcon on its unknowing prey, the police have cracked down on the Tweak Bros. Secret Recipe and have declared it 'illegal' and 'unfit for human consumption'. Fortunately, I managed to frame my Colombian coffee bean provider for the drug charges, but it still means that without the one thing that makes Tweak's coffee the perfect morning wake-up call for the sleepy residents of South Park, the business is bound to go under as quickly as a sardine when confronted to the cruel fisherman's harpoon. They really have my balls in a fruit-blender."

"BUT WHY? WHY? I'M YOUR SON, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? ACK!… PRESSURE!"

Tweek's voice was too calm, if the screeching could be called calm at all, that is. What was meant by that was that his speech wasn't as fast-paced as it usually was, and from what the boys could see from where they were standing twenty feet away, he was crying. That… wasn't supposed to be. Only Clyde, Butters and Cartman cried on a regular basis. Something was definitely wrong.

"Oh, well, now that we're never going to see you again, I guess we can tell you. What do you think, honey?"

"Why not? Tweek, put your little spaz, caffeinated brain to work for once, and answer us honestly: do you really think you look anything like us? Do you think that we would inflict on our biological son, like the pure-white, naive lab rat that you are, the horrors of being a meth and caffeine addict from such a young age?"

"What your father means by that is that you're adopted, baby, and that we never really cared for you all that much. As long as we didn't have child services on our back, we could get away with just about anything, and that's why we've come to this decision today."

"SELLING ME INTO SLAVERY?!"

Stan stood there, mouth wide open, floored by the revelations that he had just witnessed. He glanced to his right, expecting Kyle to have had the same reaction as him, but only found a dull look there.

"Dude!" he said reproachfully, motioning to the scene that was taking place just before their eyes. "What the f..."

"I'm not that surprised, really. Were you the only one to not see how messed up this kid was? And he's like, not at all like his parents. Even your dad managed to spot that one, and I have to say, it's difficult to be any less discerning than him," he replied to the look, tagging on a "No offense" to the unbelieving and maybe slightly mad stare he got back. Stan belatedly closed his mouth, looked back over at the drama taking place just down the street, and made his mind up.

"Right, I'm phoning Craig."

"Don't! Dude, that'll just end in a bloodbath, and you know it. Seriously, someone's gonna die if you do that."

"Whya woodds!" ("Hiya dudes!" courtesy of MumbletradsTM)

"Oh, hi Kenny. Stan, this is mad man! This sort of thing happens all the time, and if you do anything about it and don't just ignore it, you know that it's gonna escalate into something huge and totally out of proportion."

"I. Don't. Fucking. Care. Craig has brawn and can get Tweek out of this, and from what I've just heard, his parents are serious this time over." He scrolled through his phone contacts, finding the one named "The Bird" with a tit as a contact picture (fitting) and tapping the dial button.

"But that's the thing! Craig's crazy protective, I'm serious when I say that he'll kill someone."

"Kyle, I think that there's something that you don't quite understand. To give you an idea, I wouldn't even wish slavery on Cartman. Cartman, for God's sake. So please, just shut up for once and let me do my thing."

He brought the phone up to his ear just in time for the last second of dial tone before it was picked up, opening onto crackling as someone breathed heavily down the receiver.

"Craig, whatever you're doing, get your ass over here. Tweek's in trouble."

"Fat… *crackles* lot of good you are. Look up."

Stan did, and to his surprise, saw a ball of blue anger streaking down from the opposite end of the street. Craig had obviously also been alerted by the blond's piercing cries, and had been running for quite a while to get to their source. Stan hung up and observed the scene unfolding beneath them, Kyle stopping as well to enjoy what was promising to be one of the most realistic renditions of one of the ancient roman's christian executions there was around.

And indeed, the "lion" pounced, eyes filled with desperation and rage, but that wasn't counting on the van that came hurtling down the street. It was missing its door on the passenger side, and a hook was sticking out of it instead. As quick as a flash, it skidded up the road, and just at the instant where the nervous blond's and the stoic black-haired boy's index finger's came in contact, the instant where both their pairs of desperate love-struck eyes met and they exchanged a visible spark, the hook caught Tweak's collar and pulled him harshly up and off the pavement, brusquely enough to make him squeak. The instant later, the van was gone and Kenny was dead again, squished flat on the road.

The boys saw Craig sink to his knees, his eyes more empty than they had ever seen them, and he stayed there, silent tears running down his cheeks. His hands convulsed, grasped at something that wasn't there, the one thing that meant anything to him in this life gone.

Tweek's parents turned around and started chatting in their usual soft tones as they made their way back to the shop as if nothing had happened. Kyle nudged Stan, who snapped out of his reverie.

"Oh, sorry. Oh my God, they killed Kenny."

"You bastards. Right, let's go play Gamesphere."


I honestly felt like the story should stop just here, the ending is so perfect :D

But... depending on feedback, I may or may not publish the rest of what I've written. I'll just put this out as a taster for now, see how it fares.

Edit: I've written quite a bit more of this that I just don't want to see remain unpublished, so you know. Expect more chapters.