Now if there's one thing everyone in South Park knows, it is that Eric Cartman is a manipulator. To be honest, he's probably one of the most manipulative people in the country, if not the world. At the age of eight, he had tricked the government as well as formed a plot to get two people killed, chopped up, and made into chilli- and feed said chilli to their son, who had tried to trick Eric. He was feared by the majority of his peers, and adored by all adults. (Aside from Sheila Broflovski, who had very good reasons to despise the child.)
If you asked anyone at his school how they would describe him, they would say, "He's a racist, intolerant, manipulative, fatass bastard." However, if you were to ask an adult, they would call him an innocent, misunderstood child.
Since the previous night, there's only been one thing running through my mind... how do you trick the most dangerous person you know? And so far, none of my plans seem good enough. I need something huge. Something that will be able to terrify even Eric.
As I sat and continued pondering the things Eric has done, I feel a warm bile rising up in my throat. Just the thought of him makes me sick. I swallow back the slime and fall back into my thoughts.
It was about four o' clock when I came up with the only thing that would possibly leave him vulnerable. Food.
Eric liked to eat. In fact, Eric loved to eat. His nickname wasn't fatass for no reason.
I called all of the people in my class. (Which, I should add, isn't very many people at all.) I invited them to my house for a dinner party. I said the only things I could think of to get them all to come: free food, no parents. My reason? I was 'having trouble coping with my parent's death and needed my friends.' Even the kids in South Park had a little sympathy. The only two that didn't were none other than Eric Cartman and Craig Tucker.
Eric was only coming for the free food. Although he didn't say it, I knew it was true.
As for Craig, he would do anything to get away from the constant nagging of adults. He stayed quiet about it, but everyone knew Craig had home problems. Sometimes you could hear the screaming from the roads, and the next days Craig would show up at school bruised and in pain, or he wouldn't show up at all. Being the asshole he is, he said he was only coming to get away from adults. He did not forget to add the classic line, "I hate you, Butters," before hanging up on me.
Turning to look at the clock, I realize it was almost quarter 'til five. I had until seven to fix a meal of huge proportions for Eric, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Craig, Clyde, Wendy, Tweek, Token, Red, Kevin, Jimmy, Timmy, Bebe, Terrance, Christophe, Annie, Damien, Gregory, Pip, Mark, Thomas, Rebecca, Francis, Lizzie, Jason, Bill, Millie, Fosse, Henrietta, Gary, Tammy, Scott, Dogpoo (does that kid have a real name?), and even Trent Boyett. Is it even possible to make that much food in such a short amount of time? Unlikely. There's only one solution: KFC. KFC happens to be Eric's favorite type of food, he's known to consume it in inhumane quantities.
Getting the food would be no problem, since I was left with all of my parent's money. I call the restaraunt, and five of every thing on the menu. Hoping it would be enough, I grab the keys to my mother's car and head out the door. I can't help but to think how much easier things had been for me since my parents were gone. Hm, wherever they are now I hope they finally realize what unfit parents they were...
The sound of a car horn abruptly stopped my thoughts. I realize that I had run right through a stop sign, causing an older-modeled truck to skid sideways. I really need to stop spacing out when I'm driving.
In approximately fourty-five minutes, the food was done. Not wanting to wait around any longer than needed, I handed the cashier a 500 dollar bill and ran out the door. The back seat was full with food, and there was no way to avoid the irresistable scent of chicken and gravy. I reach back and grab a chicken wing and a container of gravy. I was too caught up in my thoughts to even realize that I was pulling into my driveway. One of these days, that's going to end up killing me.
Struggling to carry the multiple (should I mention HEAVY) bags of food, I stumble up the brick pathway to my house. Finally finding the right key, I open the door and hustle to the dining room. Once there, I heave the bags onto the table and collapse into an old-fashioned wooden chair. Without a doubt, the past few days have been the most eventful of my life. A quick glance at the clock tells me that it is six fourty-three.
I grab plates and split the food into portions. I give everyone an equal amount of food, and label the plates with name tags. Everyone has always known me to be one of the most organized people in my grade, aside from Kyle, Token, and sometimes Wendy. Realizing I have little time left, I run upstairs to the bathroom and pull out a box of pills. They're muscle relaxers, I had to take them for a while after an incident with Trent after he got back out of juvinile hall. Thankfully, anger management classes did wonders for the terrifying (I mean, seriously terrifying. I've never seen the son of Satan so much as flinch at anything before Trent was released.) boy and there have been no further problems involving him. From what I remember, those pills could put anyone to sleep within a half an hour. I slip two from the bottle, throw it aside, and run back downstairs. Just as I was finishing crushing the pills into Eric's gravy, I head my doorbell ring.
It came as a shock to me that someone actually had the decency to show up even a few minutes early. I open my door to find Kyle Broflovski standing in the doorway, looking uninterested and bored, to say the least.
"Oh, hey Kyle!" I think my fake enthusiasm seems real enough, and I grin, pleased.
"Hey... Butters." He's avoiding eye contact, I notice. Sometime in freshman year, Clyde got mad at me over something that made no sense whatsoever and started a rumor that I was gay for Kyle. It seemed everyone believed it; well, everyone except for the goth kids and Gregory. The goth kids didn't care about anyone's 'conformist lies and ideas' and Gregory had come out as gay sometime shortly before the rumor started, and he knew he was the only gay male in their year. However, no amount of arguing was going to change the minds of those ignorant...
"Uh... Butters?" Shaking my head and widening my eyes, I realize that I was spacing out again. I bring my eyes up to Kyle's, who is looking at me with a confused and annoyed expression. Well, that is, until our eyes meet. He quickly tears his eyes from mine.
"O-Oh, hamburgers. I'm sorry 'bout that, Kyle. Come inside, I got a..a whole bunch'a food ready for everyone. I'm awfully sorry to make you wait, but could ya just wait in the livin' room 'til the others get here?"
"Yeah. Okay," was all Kyle said before turning on his heels and walking in a slow and unsure manner to the room and sitting down awkwardly on the couch.
A few painfully long moments passed before more people started to show up, people were now coming in a steady flow. The last of them arrived at seven ten, Damien. To be honest, I was a bit shocked to see Damien on my doorstep, looking uninterested but not at all angry. He had really mellowed out since high school began. Growing up, he was constantly angry, burning things and cursing everyone. But, then again, growing up in Hell, having Satan as your father and Saddam Hussain as a step-mother would cause anyone some serious emotional problems, demon or not.
Stepping aside and closing the door behind the two of us, I lead him to the living room.
"Okay, so everyone's he-ya. Can we eat now, fag?" Of course, leave it to Eric to pull a fag joke.
"Y-yeah.. I suppose we can" I had never been good around a lot of people, and I was now nervously knocking my knuckles together. Some habits just never die.
They all reach the dining room, searching for the plates with their names.
"Haha... name tags. That's gay."
"He's gay. Hahaha." Of course, Bill and Fosse. My face was growing red, half with embarassment and half with anger. Giggles and mumbles of agreement were the only things I heard- at least, until-
"Stop eet. At least 'e 'ad ze courtesy to eenvite yoo to 'is 'ouse for food."
The laughing abruptly stopped as Christophe spoke up. Almost everyone in the room was afraid of the French boy, with all of the rumors that he is a mercenary and that he will kill anyone that so much as looks at him wrong. Set aside Eric Cartman, who doesn't seem to be afraid of anything.
"Ha... Christophe is a fag too!"
A second later, there was a dead silence as Christophe jumps towards Eric, holding the end of his shovel to Eric's throat. As if that wasn't shocking enough, a moment later, the shovel caught fire and burned until there were just bits of metal and ash left. Without much hesitation, the whole crowd turns to face the anti-christ, who is standing in the corner of the room with a smirk on his face. Christophe turns to attack the boy that burnt his beloved shovel, and Damien points a finger in Christophe's direction. Someone had to stop it before it got out of control, and that someone happened to be Wendy Testaburger. Just as soon as Christophe springs forward and Damien's finger had a flame at it's tip, Wendy stepped into the middle. The two stopped, momentarily confused by the female's bold action.
"You guys, stop it! We aren't here to fight! Every time we all get together, it's ruined with someone's random outburst turned into a huge fight. Now if you'll just suck it up and stop fighting, I want my damn food." With that, she turned and walked out of the room, nose pointed towards the sky.
Christophe and Damien exchanged confused looks, all anger suddenly wiped out, and resumed mindless chatter with their peers.
Finally, the whole group was settled into their seats and began to eat. I noticed Eric's eyes light up at the sight of KFC and I could have sworn I saw a small trail of drool escape from his mouth.
I wasn't paying attention to small talk of my classmates. I was thinking, yet again. Thinking of ways that I could get them all. Well, set aside Damien. I don't think there was a way for anyone to actually kill Damien. Damn that demon boy! (No pun intended.) I thought that Pip would be one of the easiest, he's too stupidly oblivious, he wouldn't even realize that Butters was going to lash against him at any second. Then there was Kyle. What could be done about Kyle? He was a genius at almost any topic, and has an extraordinary sense of when things are weird. Christophe would probably just take my head off with a shovel, I'm not too sure if I would want to kill him. He's never done anything wrong to me, has he? What about Clyde? Well, Clyde's the one that damaged my reputation even more, I didn't think that was possible. Though he has grown quite a bit, he's still known to cry in stressful situations. I think about how awesome it would be to hear Clyde's crying as I...
"...the fuck?" I hear.
"O-oh, what?"
"What the fuck are you laughing at, Butters?" Token asks, obviously confused and a little startled, "You sounded like a freaking maniac."
"Oh, I'm awful sorry. I was just thinkin' 'bout somethin' I saw at KFC earlier." I knew no one would care to ask the story, since it was coming from me.
"...uhm, okay then." A few awkward moments of silence, "But anyways, on my birthday, my dad is planning this really big party for me. My mom let it slip that I'm actually getting a convertable. It's so awesome, I've always wanted one."
"I wish I could afford a car. Even a junky car would be nice, as long as it runs."
"Maybe you should get a job, po' boy."
"You're one to talk, fatass. You've never had a job either."
"Ay! Shut yo' Jew mouth!"
"You guys! Seriously." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose before glaring at the others. "We don't even talk anymore, and you guys are fighting like this is still an everyday thing."
"Anyways, that's pretty awesome, Token. You gonna let me drive it some?"
"Clyde, I'm not sure I could trust you to drive," Token laughs and Clyde gives him a hurt look. "Oh, you know I'm just kidding Clyde. But really, can you drive?"
"A lot better than Craig." Craig looks up, drops a piece of chicken, and flips him off. Of course, it's Craig's trademark. No one could flip the bird quite like Craig.
"Gah! Too much p-pressure!"
"Tweek, ol' chap, there isn't any pressure. It's-"
"SHUT UP PIP!" Jason yelled at the British boy. It was strange seeing Jason dislike someone. (other than myself, of course) He was usually so neutral about things.
"Right-o." Pip looked back at his plate, with a sad smile on his face.
"Haha, look at this," Bill points to his cell phone screen, "That's so gay."
"Haha. That's gay."
"I don't quite understand why you boys always say everything is so gay. That term can be quite offensive to those of us who actually are gay." None other than Gregory, of course.
"Haha. You're so gay."
"Yes, Fosse, I am 'so gay.'"
Awkward silence.
"Timmah?"
"Y-yes, Timmy. Gregory is g-g-gay. Everyone a- everyone acc- everyone accepts him though. He's still a r-really cool g-g-guy."
"Timmah." Timmy smiles. Although Jimmy is the only person that really knows what Timmy means when he speaks, they all know this means he doesn't mind.
"Did any of you guys see that one Star Wars episo-"
"God damn it, Kevin!"
"What? I'm not allowed to speak?"
"Maybe if you'd talk about something we care about, you could." Eric smirked before stuffing his face with some more food. "You know, KFC gravy is really fucking awesome."
"Y-yeah, I know it is, Eric."
"Oh shut up, fag."
Damien stands up quickly, he looks my way and flashes a small, barely there smile. "Well, thanks for the food, Butters. As much as I want to stay on Earth, my dad will get pretty pissy if I don't get home soon."
"Well, it's really no problem, Damien. I'm glad 'ya came."
Before I could finish my sentance, Damien had dissappeared. That was one of his demonic hell powers, or whatever you're supposed to call them. It's kind of sad that Damien can't live in South Park. He's really not that bad of a kid, despite the fact that he's the offspring of Satan.
Wendy and Kyle were now caught up in some political talk with Gregory, Stan was uninterested and looked drowsy. Clyde, Craig, and Token kept talking about how rich Token was. Bill and Fosse were characteristically laughing and calling everything gay, Kevin and Jason were now talking, Tweek was muttering something about underpants gnomes. The rest of the girls were probably gossiping, considering the occassional squeal from their end of the table. 'Dogpoo' had stayed silent through most of the meal. Kenny and Christophe, both of which had died and came back, were talking about life in hell.
Eric got up from the table, looking very tired. He stumbled a bit, then made his way to the couch. Within a few minutes, he was snoring, knocked into a deep sleep. Perfect.
After a while, I started ushering people out. It was getting a bit late, and there was one more thing I wanted to accomplish tonight.