Author's note: Thank you all again for reviewing. I'm so glad to see that people are actually laughing during certain parts of this story, because it really is difficult for me to add funny stuff, but I try my best. To iiFangirl, no, this is not a Cartman/Kyle story. Also, Famous Living Dead, I found your review to be extremely sweet. The fact that you said my story was well written really meant a lot to me.
Later on during that same day, after all of the other kids had already gone home, Cartman sat in a desk in the front of the classroom. His head rested against the flat surface of the desk.
"This fucking blows," he groaned.
He looked up at the clock. A mere two minutes had gone by since he had been sitting, by himself, in detention, with the exception of Mr. Garrison, who was sitting at his own desk in the front, reading his romance novel with his legs propped up on the desk.
"I heard that," Mr. Garrison said without looking up from his book.
Cartman put his chin(s) in his hands and moved back in his chair so that he was now sitting up. "Goddammit, how much longer do I have to stay here?" he asked.
"WE have to stay here until 4 o'clock," Mr. Garrison emphasized the 'we' obnoxiously. "Believe me, Eric, I hate being stuck here in this craphole school just as much as you do."
"So why the fuck do we have to stay? Let's just leave! Nobody will know," Cartman tried to persuade him.
"I've already tried doing that once," Mr. Garrison said, closing his book and setting it on his desk.
"Yeah? And what happened?" Cartman was curious to know.
Mr. Garrison glanced at the door, and he saw the empty hallway through the glass. He looked back at Cartman. "I got yelled at by Principal Victoria," he said in a low voice.
"Oh, WOW, that must have been horrible," Cartman said sarcastically.
"It was!" Mr. Garrison said, his voice now at normal volume. "She grabbed me by the ear and dragged me back inside. It was humiliating!"
"I'm sure it was," Cartman said, and then coughed when he said the next word. "Fag."
"What did you say?!" Mr. Garrison asked, standing up and placing his hands on his hips.
"Nothing," Cartman said sweetly.
Mr. Garrison kept a watchful eye on Cartman as he sat back down and returned to reading his book.
Cartman sighed and drummed his fingers on the desk, starting with his pointer and ending with his pinky. He repeated this action several times, until he caught Mr. Garrison staring at him with an annoyed look on his face.
"Alright, alright," Mr. Garrison said, closing his book. "I'll let you leave ten minutes early if you can just shut the hell up for the rest of the time we have to stay here."
"Twenty," Cartman attempted to raise Mr. Garrison's offer.
Mr. Garrison narrowed his eyes, not wanting to be fooled by a stupid nine-year-old kid. "Fifteen."
"Twenty-five."
"What? You can't just go up after I…oh, nevermind, just get the hell outta here," Mr. Garrison finally gave in, waving his hand in the direction of the door.
"Why, thank you, sir," Cartman said, happy that he got Mr. Garrison to cave. He stepped down from his seat and rushed out of the room before Mr. Garrison had the chance to change his mind.
"Bastard," he said, flipping a page of his novel.
As Cartman made his way home, he took out his cell phone that he kept in his coat pocket and began dialing a number on it. The phone rang twice before the person he was calling picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey," Cartman said, trying to sound nonchalant.
There was a sigh on the other line. "Dude, what the hell do you want, Cartman?" the person asked impatiently.
"Alright, alright, listen. I know you're probably pissed off right now, but-"
"OF COURSE I'm fucking pissed off, asshole!" he rudely interrupted Cartman. "Look, dude, I'm really not in the mood to talk to you right now."
"I know, I know, just hear me out for a second," Cartman said hastily.
"Fine, what?" he asked with a huff.
"Well, that thing about my dream I had of me and Wendy…that was just bull shit," Cartman started to say.
"Yeah, like I'm REALLY gonna believe that, dude."
Cartman was quiet for a moment until he spoke again. "Okay, it was true, but-"
"DUDE, what the FUCK?! So you like Wendy too?!"
"No!" Cartman screamed out, so loud that a few pedestrians walking within the same vicinity as him just stopped and stared at him in confusion.
"You'd better not. I already have to put up with Kyle liking her. There's no way I could fucking deal with you liking her too."
"Stan, trust me, I fucking hate that bitch!" Cartman said.
"Dude, that's my fucking girlfriend, you prick!" Stan lashed out at him.
"Alright, look. I had that dream about me and that ho like, a mad long time ago," Cartman explained.
"When?" Stan wanted to know.
"I don't fucking remember! Why does it even matter? Look, the point is, it was a long time ago. I'm over it now," Cartman said. He waited for Stan to say something.
"Okay, whatever, I guess," Stan finally said.
"So…we're cool then, right?" Cartman asked.
"Dude, is that all you wanted to tell me?" Stan asked, purposely not paying attention to the question.
"Well, actually, there WAS something else…" Cartman said, the tone of his voice changing from an apologetic one to his typical devious one.
"Oh, God, what now? Don't tell me Kenny had a sex dream about her or something…"
"What? No," Cartman said, but then backtracked that statement. "Well, maybe, I dunno actually. He IS pretty fucking horny."
"Dude, shut up, what did you really wanna say?" Stan asked, becoming annoyed again.
"Well…I was just wondering…you're still pissed at Kyle, right?" Cartman asked skeptically.
Stan was confused by the question that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Yeah…" he answered hesitantly.
"Oh, sweet, I was hoping you'd say that," Cartman said with enthusiasm. "'Cause I have this awesome idea where we can totally get back at him."
"Get back at him?" Stan reiterated.
"Yeah, isn't that what you want?"
"I don't know, dude. I mean, it's not like it's really his fault or anything," Stan said, thinking about what Kyle said when he confessed about liking Wendy. "And he DID say that he would back off…"
"Stan. Seriously. Don't you understand how Jews work?" Cartman asked. He found it somewhat amusing that Stan was so naïve. "They'll SAY one thing to your face, and then they'll perform their crazy fucking Jew magic to trick you into giving them what they want."
Stan took in what Cartman had just said. "Dude, are you fucking retarded?" he asked.
"Ay, I'm not retarded, Stan!" Cartman defended himself. "I'm fucking serious! Jews can't be fucking trusted. The sooner everyone learns that, the better off we'll all be, and then we'd all be able to join together and execute the Jews once and for all."
"…WHAT?"
Cartman quickly shook his head. "Nevermind. So are you interested or not?"
"Interested in what?" Stan asked, forgetting what they were talking about prior to Cartman's ridiculous theories about the Jews.
"My brilliant fucking plan to get revenge on Kyle!"
"Dude, I don't know…why the fuck should I even trust you, anyway?" Stan asked.
"Oh, come on, like I'd really waste my time screwing YOU over. I'll save something like that for Butters," Cartman said, making a mental note of it.
Stan thought it over. Despite the fact that Cartman was the last person he wanted to trust, he knew that Cartman was extremely smart when it came to planning out evil schemes. And Stan WAS still pretty mad at Kyle…
"Stan? You still there?" he heard Cartman ask.
Stan came back to reality. He was curious to at least hear what Cartman's plan was.
"What exactly did you have in mind, dude?"
