A South Park Christmas Carol

Chapter 3: The Ghost of Christmas Present

Cartman snored himself awake at 2:00am, looking blearily around in wonder of what pulled him out of sleep. He breathed in and realised, he smelled food. Yummy food. He blinked and went for his bedroom door, but upon opening it he found not his hallway, but instead a large room piled high with heaps and heaps of every pie imaginable, not to mention a tower of Salisbury Steak.

"... holy crap," Cartman's eyes were big and he was drooling, "Who made all this stuff?"

"That was me, children!" Cartman turned and to his delight discovered none other than a transparent Chef! "How's it going?"

Cartman sighed. "Pretty bad Chef, I'm supposed to be visited by two other ghosts tonight and that last one pissed me the hell off."

"Well I'm your next ghost, so maybe things'll be better now?" Chef grinned.

"You're the next ghost? Killer! I don't know what I'm going to eat first," he spied a chocolate cake, "Now I do!" he ran for it, but Chef caught him by his coat collar, "AYE! What gives?"

"Oh no children, you can't have this food yet. You don't have the holiday spirit, so if you try to eat the food of The Ghost of Christmas Present it'll all taste like a TV dinner," Chef explained with a serious expression.

"TV dinner? Urg... well where do I get this holiday spirit crap?" Cartman grimaced.

Chef smiled. "Well children, it's all around you! Let me sing you a little song about the holiday spirit..."

"Uh, that's okay Chef-"

"When it's Christmas time in the afterlife, the nights get pretty cold; but in the bed of the ghost of Christmas Present the passion never gets old! The fire crackles 'round the Yule log, and the cows in the field will low; and so I slide down your body, and-"

"CHEF!" Cartman screeched and Chef stopped his song covered in perspiration.

"Oh, oh children," Chef chuckled, "Maybe it'd better if I just showed you Christmas around South Park this year, and maybe you'll get it?"

Cartman sighed. "I suppose, as long as I get pie afterwards..."

"Then just touch my Chef's hat and we'll be gone!"

Chef bent down and Cartman reached out and with the brush of his fingers on the white fabric, the room vanished to the glory of Christmas Day in South Park. Children were tobogganing and skating with brand new equipment, families were singing together and couples were kissing under mistletoe. All around was a sound of happy good cheer.

"Ah sweet! Let's get back to my house so I can open my presents!" Cartman grinned but as he made to dash home, Chef grabbed his coat collar again.

"Not yet children, it's my job to show you some things that are happening in the present so you'll have to stick with me for a while. You'll get Christmas soon enough. Besides, no one can see or hear us anyway," Chef smiled but Cartman glared.

"Fuck that, I want my I-Pod Touch!"

"Oh boy," Chef sighed and then looked at Cartman severely, "You're going to experience the joy of Christmas present by following me around town, or I'm going to kick your ass, you got that?"

Cartman could tell Chef meant business and swallowed "Erm... okay" he shuffled his feet. Chef nodded and the two headed down the street. They stopped beside a couple of hobos sharing a sandwich and Chef sprinkled some seasoning on the meagre meal from a shaker. Cartman looked curious. "What was that, salt?"

"It's a special flavour, my own," Chef grinned.

"... eww..." Cartman muttered.

"Not like that children!" Chef's eyes widened and he waved his hands defensively, "It's just a secret recipe! Now come on," he continued down the street with the little fat cracker following behind him. Soon they came upon the houses of the small town and Cartman raised an eyebrow.

"Why the hell are we at Kyle's house? Jews don't celebrate Christmas!" Cartman huffed.

"No," Chef admitted, "Still, Kyle has been around for all the Christmas adventures you've all had and therefore he's still a part of Christmas. That's something that you seem to have neglected for years."

"Whatever," Cartman said in irritation as they approached the house. Chef pushed him through the closed door that seemed to melt aside like water for them to pass.

Inside he saw Kyle sitting in front of the TV, looking exhausted. He checked his watch and looked over at the staircase. Cartman wondered what this was all about.

"Ky-el..." a moan came from upstairs, followed by coughing. Kyle sighed.

"Right on cue," he muttered, but put on a smile as he climbed the stairs to his little brother Ike's room, "What's up Ike?"

"Can I get a glass of water?" Ike rasped, "And some Energy drink?"

"You know you shouldn't have more of that," Kyle said gently, making a face.

Ike smiled weakly. "I know. Just testing you. Water please?"

"S-sure bro," Kyle nodded and went back downstairs, unable to refuse the request but Cartman and Chef stayed in Ike's dark chambers.

"Hey, what's wrong with the Canadian?" Cartman quirked an eyebrow.

Chef sighed. "Those energy drinks Kenny made turned Ike a sugar addict like the rest of them. But unlike the rest, Ike doesn't want to be a sugar crazed psychopath, so he's trying to fight it. Only thing is, it's not that simple. He needs an antidote to Kenny's energy drink; hell, all the kids do. But if Ike keeps resisting the call of that energy drink without a proper antidote, he could end up dead."

Cartman gaped. "DEAD?"

Chef nodded. "Yep, and his blood will be on your hands cracker."

"M-MY HANDS? But Kenny invented that drink, not me!"

Chef nodded again, more gravely. "Yes, and he's doing time for it isn't he? But now you know the problem, and you really should work on the antidote."

"Jesus Christ... okay," Cartman sighed, running a hand down his face in agitation, "But can't that wait until after Christmas?"

Chef paused. "It... might have to..." he shifted uncomfortably.

Cartman frowned."Why?"

"Erm... I'll leave that to the Future," Chef laughed nervously, "Anyway, there's more to see." The black man took Cartman's arm and led him out of the Broflovski house and down the street again. Now they came to Stan's house and it seemed to be Christmas afternoon. Stan was up in his room flanked by Wendy, Butters, Jimmy and Timmy.

"Where's Kyle and Eric?" Butters asked, cocking his head to one side.

Stan groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Well Kyle's taking care of Ike cause he's got the flu or something, and Cartman-"

"Is being a pig headed selfish piece of shit as per usual," Wendy folded her arms and glared snootily, "So we didn't invite him." Cartman winced. That had stung a little.

"Oh, well, yeah I guess," Butters rubbed his knuckles together and looked down.

"W-w-w-well you guys, w-what did you are ge-ge-geeee get for Christmas?" Jimmy asked.

"Timmah! Timmah Timmah!"

"Oh b-boy Timmy, that sounds f-fa-faaaa-fant-tastic!"

"Timmah!" Timmy agreed enthusiastically.

"He's such a bastard!" Wendy raged, apparently not ready to change the subject, "He doesn't care about anybody but himself!"

"Who, Timmy?" Butters asked in surprise.

"No, Cartman!" Wendy snapped.

Stan looked uncomfortable. "Well... yeah he's a jerk but we all kind of knew that already."

"And he cheats at every test! Every single one! Not that it does him much good but..."

"Yeah but it's-" Stan tried to speak, but Wendy quickly talked over him.

"And he's always up to some new money making scheme, even going to the point of addicting small children to an energy drink!"

"Well that was sort of started by Kenny," Stan pointed this out, but was ignored in Wendy's tirade.

"AND ON TOP OF THAT pretty much ENSLAVING Kyle!"

"I agree, but it's just so... well, Cartman. It's what he does," Stan looked at the other three boys for help but no help was forthcoming.

"And he never even OPENED the Christmas card I gave him! He laughed and threw it in the trash and called me a hippie!" Wendy's voice cracked and her hands fled to her mouth. The boys now stared at her.

"Y-you gave Eric a Christmas card, Wendy?" Butters asked in surprise, likely unsure if he heard correctly.

"Um... yeah well..." Wendy shifted beside Stan, "I-I just... I thought maybe he'd get more holiday spirit if he read it!" she stopped speaking rather quickly, blush spreading over her cheeks.

"Um... yeah," Stan said, seeming unsure how he should be reacting to this. Cartman stared at this scene for a moment, then took off running straight through Stan's bedroom wall. He ran into the street and headed for the school.

"HEY! STOP!" Chef yelled behind him but for once in his life Cartman ran as if wings were on his feet. He hoped the Mexican janitor had been too lazy to empty the trash cans before the holidays, and to his delight that seemed to be the case. He quickly found the hall garbage he had tossed Wendy's card and dug through its disgusting interior until his found the crumpled card with a picture of a Christmas tree on it. He opened the card hesitantly, still far ahead of Chef, and read the short note inside.

strikeDear,Merry,I /strike

Cartman,

I don't know if you really remember me kissing you and then sort of dumping you back in the third grade, but it's been sort of bothering me lately and I want to say I'm sorry for playing with your feelings like that. I know you can be a real prick sometimes, but I sort of realised that maybe it's because no one's ever that nice to you either. So Merry Christmas Cartman and I hope you can forgive me.

strikeFrom,Yours Truly,Love/strike[this one had many strikes through it and was hard to make out]

Sincerely,

Wendy

Cartman bit his lip and scrunched the Christmas card up in his palm. "Stupid bitch," he muttered as Chef put a hand on his shoulder and Cartman found himself in his bedroom again. But the card from Wendy was still in his hand and melted snow was on his feet. He shivered and jumped into bed, but shook beneath the covers, wondering what the last visit would bring him, and wondering if writing 'Love' had been a mistake or if Wendy had seriously considered putting that there. It was quite the thought to ponder.

TBC