Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! You guys have no idea how much happiness it brings to me when I see a new one. As promised, this chapter is longer. A lot longer than the previous ones. Also, many have been wondering about Scott's age. In the show, it was said Scott was a "teenager" and some places listed his age as 15, which is what I'm going by. This takes place three years in the future, so Scott is eighteenish, and Cartman is twelve. And for the record, does anyone here know Cartman's birthday? I don't think it was ever given, yet we know everyone elses...

Disclaimer: Still a poor college girl...

Chapter 3

I've only been living in this house for one fucking hour, and he's already on my ass. He's already gave me the gayest bedtime in the history of bed times, banned television, and gave me a diet that consists of foods no human would ever want in their system.

It's almost as bad as when that douche bag gave Mom all those instructions about child care, and treated me like a dog.

So far, this hasn't been as bad as that, but it's pretty close.

"Eric, I made dinner. It's your favorite. I made Chili," he says in that same torturing voice he used when he said he first knew who my father was.

I went into his poor excuse for a kitchen and sat at the rickety table and stared into my chili. I was fucking starving until I took one look at my chili. It looked fucking gross, like bloody dog shit mixed with some sort of gross shit.

None of it looked appetizing; I don't think Kenny would even eat this for fifty bucks, and he'd eat anything for money.

"Now Eric," Scott said in a way that was mocking my mother. "If you don't eat your supper then you get no desert."

"D-dessert?" So maybe getting this crap off my plate was worth it for some real food, like a Snicker bar or something. Anything that wasn't this shit.

"Yup." He smirked. "It's a surprise. But you have to eat your dinner first."

As slowly and as painlessly as I could, I shoveled the waste's attempt of food into my mouth. It tasted like someone shit and piss in the fucking Chili. I spooned some more chili into my mouth when I felt a string in my mouth.

Curiously, I pulled the string out carefully, revealing an orange hair.

"Gross! That's fucking sick! Get your ginger pubes out of my chili!"

"But it was my special recipe I made just for you." Each word he said was like poison. "It's for my baby brother."

"I'm not a fucking baby; I'm twelve years old! An' if you don't know that than you can suck my nuts!"

"Eat your fucking chili you little shit, or I'll shovel it in your mouth for you!" He roared, and goddammit, his voice was almost as loud as Kyle's bitch of a mom. "I'm going to the bathroom and if that chili isn't done before I get back than you're going to fucking get it!"

As soon as he went to the bathroom, I took the disgusting shit he called food and placed it on the floor. Normally I'd never let Mister Kitty eat horrible shit like this, but it was either me suffer, or him. Sorry Mister Kitty, but I wasn't going to let that ginger-chili enter my mouth again.

"Meow," Mister Kitty purred at me, happy to have food in his stomach.

"Shh Misty Kitty," I shushed." If he knows it was you, he'd probably sell you to City Wok or something."

"Meow?" Misty Kitty cocked his head to the side, staring at me, making more noise.

"No Kitty! Bad Mister Kitty!" I heard the toilet flush and shooed away my cat.

Scott wiped his hands on his torn jeans as he came in the kitchen. "I see you ate the rest of your chili. See how better this goes when you're not being a dick? Here."

He placed a bowl of fruit in front of me. "What the fuck is this?" I poked at the foreign object with my fork. "What the fuck is this, Scott?"

"…Fruit."

"And why is this fag food on my plate instead of dessert?"

"That is dessert. I can't afford fancy desserts. We can't afford much of anything extravagant."

"We're fucking poor?"

"That's what happens when both your parents get murdered when you're a kid. "

"What about the money my mom left me?" I snapped. "That's just going to sit in a bank until I'm eighteen? What a fucking waste!"

"Well, my parents had enough money left when they died to give me a fixed income until I was old enough to get a part time job. As long as we only spend no more than a hundred bucks a month on food, and stay within our budget of 400 dollars a month, we'll be alright. Your mom also said that if I needed to, I could dip into your money she left you."

"What the fuck? That's my money you asshole! Mom left it to me. So it's mine."

"No, your mom had the will fixed right after you learned the truth and said if I were ever to have custody of you and we were in a desperate need of money, I could get access to the money she left you. She said she would never want her little Poopsiekins to suffer."

My face turned a light shade of red. Jesus Christ Mom, even when you're dead you had to embarrass me by calling me "Poopsiekins" on your fucking will. I can only wonder what else she wrote on all those fucking records my ginger of a half-brother knows now.

At the only moment of silence Mister Kitty came waltzing into the kitchen.

"Meow," he said, rubbing his head against Scott's leg.

"What the fuck?" He spazzed, kicking Mister Kitty across the room. She let out a loud hiss as she landed on her feet across the house. "I fucking hate cats! They're fucking idiots and make me fucking sick." He kicked Mister Kitty again who hissed.

"What the fuck? Only I can punish Mister Kitty! He's mine!"

"I fucking hate cats you little twit, now shut the fuck up and go to bed," the asshole snapped. I seriously think he might be bipolar or something, or suffer from multiple personality disorder.

"You're not my fucking mom, you can't tell me what to do," I challenged back. Asshole isn't going to think he's getting off easy. No one tells me what to do, not even some dumb piece of paper a ginger has possession of.

Scott dangled the piece of paper over me. "I own you until you turn eighteen." I jumped for the paper to try and grab it, but he just jerked up and down. "I think I'm going to get a frame for this for everyone to see. As long as you're in my house, you follow my rules."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't even want to live here; don't you know that?"

"Just get to bed you fuckin' fatass."

"Ay! Don't call me fat you crazy fuckin' lunatic!"

"I'm not the one who had our father killed and had him ground up into chili."

"One time."

"Just get to fuckin' bed or your fuckin' cat gets it!" He roared again.

Goddammit.

I trudged down the hall to my new bedroom angrily. It was disgusting in here, but I didn't bother on telling Scott. I wanted to avoid him as much as I could, even if it meant staying in this shit hole room. I grabbed onto Clyde Frog squeezing my eyes shut, hoping everything would be back to normal in the morning.

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