Wasn't that last chapter a hoot n' a hollar? Thank you guys for the reviews :) Dnny By was the one who got review number 40, so um, they get the two mega mans :P This next chapter is one of my favorites...Actually, I just got season one of South Park on DVD, Matt and Trey are amazing. Their silly intros are so funny. :)


Chapter 6

I've been living with Scott for about two weeks now and he's still a fucking dick. He actually checks my homework and forces me to do it! If I mess up on a problem he actually gets pissed off and makes me redo it. He even has the liberty to talk to my teachers if he's unhappy with a grade I got. He's fuckin' psycho.

Goddamn ginger Jew.

He even forced me to go to his Jewish church with him, and all I could do was hope Kyle wasn't there. Luckily he wasn't there, but Scott acted like a fucking asshole when he was showing me off to some of his friends.

They're all fucking stupid. They were talking about stupid shit that wasn't even worth listening in for. It was just a bunch of dumb guys talking about how to impress dumb hoes.

What a waste of time.

One afternoon when I came home from school, instead of being bitched at to do my homework, he bitched at me to comb my hair and change my clothes.

What the fuck?

"Get in the car," he snapped. "My girlfriend and her family invited us over for dinner."

I could fucking laugh. He has a girlfriend? An actual girl fell for the ginger Jew? Not to mention he was half crazy.

"No," I said.

"Fine," he replied. "Then you can just have pop tarts for dinner."

"Fine, I'll go." I folded my hands across my chest as I sat in his shit of metal he called a car. I watched the familiar houses fly by when I saw him pull into a familiar driveway.

What the hell? He pulled into the driveway of an old friend of mine, and I watched him whistle happily as he got out of the car and knocked on the door.

The door opened to the sight of Stan's drunken dad. "Who's the creepy ginger kid?" he asked loudly, as he slammed the door again in our faces. Scott didn't move, like he was almost used to this reaction.

"Dad," I heard the voice say. "That's my boyfriend, Scott. Mom invited him over for dinner."

"Ooh," was all the reply was.

The door opened again and Stan's bitch of an older sister answered. Goddammit, she wasn't that bad looking for a stupid hoe. That stupid headgear was gone and the teeth were straight, and her hair was flat and brown.

Stan mentioned a while back that she was sixteen and got her headgear off and was dating some eighteen year old dude, but I didn't know it was gonna be Scott.

Dammit.

First, I'm half ginger, then fucking Jewish, and now he's dating someone related to a hippie? We can't be related. It's impossible for this to be happening.

"Hi Scott," the stupid bitch says, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. She lets out some dumb giggle and he just stands there with this dumb look on his face.

It's kind of sickening.

"Mom made pork for dinner," she says, and Scott slaps me on the back in some strange way. I think he's flirting with her, and it's a pretty weird sight to see.

"We love pork, don't we Eric?" He says loudly. I respond with a nod of the head, not sure what the point is. Oh well, at least I get a good meal out of this. At least he's dating someone who has a mom that can cook.

The two link hands and walk into the dining room, as I follow behind taking a seat at the dinner table. Mrs. Marsh gives me a strange look but forces on a cheerful smile. "Oh, hello Eric. Stanley didn't tell me he invited you over for dinner."

Scott chimes in with some sweet voice I didn't even know he was capable of having. "Oh no, Mrs. Marsh, Eric's with me. He's my little brother. I volunteered to take custody of him after his mother…passed on." He says the last bit in a way that's so fucking cheesy; I can easily tell he's sucking up.

"Half-brother," I mutter, but no one is even paying attention.

"Oh, that is so sweet of you," Stan's mother gushes. "Randy, isn't that sweet?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sweet." He doesn't even bother knowing what he's agreeing too, and looks at his plate."Can we eat now, Sharon?"

"Just a minute, Randy. Shelley, could you get your brother please? Tell him it's getting cold."

"But Mom," she starts to whine, but stops and goes over to the bottom of the stairs. She lets out a loud yell up the stairs. "TURD, IT'S DINNER TIME!"

I hear a soft "'kay" as the door shuts from the upstairs and the stupid Hippie Pussy comes down. His eyes meet mine, and he's completely confused.

"C-Cartman?" He asks, his voice cracking at my name. I want to laugh, but I refrain from doing so until I see Shelley forcing back a giggle.

"Stanley, this is Shelley's boyfriend Scott. He and Eric are-"

"I know," Stan says quickly. "I already knew. "

"We'll just say grace then," she says as everyone starts to bow their heads. She's about to start the prayer, but stops when she sees Scott out of the corner of her eye. Scott keeps his head up, and I see a coy smile appear across his lips.

He better not.

He better fuckin' not.

"Is something the matter, Scott?" Stan's mom asks slightly concerned.

"Oh, nothing Mrs. Marsh. It's just that-"he stops and puts on some look of fake embarrassment.

"What is it, Scott?"

All eyes fall on him, and I give him a glare, which he returns with a smirk. "It's nothing, really," he says before letting out some stupid fake laughter. "It's nothing, really. It's quite, silly, actually," he states with fake embarrassment plastered on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he says and I'm about to let out a sigh of relief when he continues. "It's just, I sometimes get uncomfortable around different prayers," he says, and I know he's lying. I know he is, and I just want to kill him before he lets out what he wants to say next.

Everyone is looking at him now, and no one is going to stop staring at him until they get the answer he's dying to give.

"I'm so sorry, Scott," Stan's mother says embarrassed.

"It's alright," Scott apologizes. "You didn't know I was Jewish."

I could hear the sound of a pin drop. Actually, I heard a fork clank against a plate. I look over at Stan, and he's holding in so much laughter, his face is red and milk squirts from his nose. Stan's dad is chuckling at his son's behavior, and his mom just scolds her son.

"Stanley!"

"Sorry," his voice cracks, and he's forcing back the laughter now. He grins every time he looks at me, and I shoot him a glare.

Stan's mom looks down at the pork and her cheeks get red. "I had no idea about that, Scott, I'm so sorry. Is the meal going to be a problem?"

"Oh no, Mrs. Marsh, it won't be a problem at all," he replies in that fake voice that makes him sound like a suck up.

"Well, then eat up, you too, Stanley," she says and Pussy Boy complains.

"But Mom, I told you I don't like pork," he whines.

"You liked it last time I fixed it," she says with an annoyed look on her face.

"Last time I didn't know about the baby pigs," he says and I roll my eyes.

Last month our class saw this wicked awesome movie about how food gets to your plate, and this one portion showed all these sweet pictures of dead cows and baby pigs being ground up and turned into all sorts of things.

Most of the class were kind of disgusted, but they all just didn't eat meat that day, and by the end of the week, everyone in class was back to their normal eating habits. Except Stan. He came to the bus stop the next day and said he was never ever going to eat meat again, and this time he meant it. We had to remind him about that brief period in fourth grade where he actually turned into a pussy, but this time he said he didn't care.

The first few days with no meat, we asked him how it was, and he said he just felt better, physically and mentally. He said that it was the best decision he ever made, and to this day he won't eat meat. Not even KFC.

He was over at my house one time, well my old house or whatever, and it was around the time he decided to stop eating meat. Mom brought home KFC, and Stan immediately put down the chicken wing. We thought he was going to cave in and eat it first, but he then just started going on about stupid shit like an innocent chicken was killed so I could eat my meal.

He's such a fucking pussy.

He doesn't touch his pork and just eats the vegetables and potatoes as his mother sighs, taking his plate back to the kitchen. She brings out dessert, and it smells so good. It's so warm and it looks so delicious, and I can just feel my mouth watering.

She doesn't even ask me if I want dessert as she puts the pie on my plate, and I dig into it without a wait. It reminds me of a simpler time, back when dessert was this and not stupid fag food, like fruit. Back when home was actually a welcoming place, and not a house with some douche bag half-brother. Back when the only time I ever had to even acknowledge my brother's existence was buying him a stupid birthday card for his birthday.

It was Mom's idea. She said it was the least I could do since the tragic death of his parents. She said this is what siblings do: buy a card for the other's birthday, regardless of what they actually want to do. So two days before his birthday, Mom and I would go to the card store and I'd be forced to pick out a stupid card.

The first time I remember buying a card, I remember asking my mom if I could just buy half a card, since he was only half my brother. Mom just shook her head and forced me to the birthday section of the store, and ordered me to pick out a card.

I picked out the most emotionless, most plain card I could, but when Mom saw it, she frowned and put it back and picked out a different one. She picked out the cheesiest card she could find and bought it without my input.

I remember it said something so fucking cheesy, and looked so fucking cheesy. It looked like a five year old drew the front and the inside said something like" You're the best brother ever! Happy Birthday!" and then she forced me to sign my name and then rewarded me with ice cream.

It was so easy then, so much better then.

Back when Mom was alive.

I got pulled back into reality as Scott and Shelley were laughing at Stan's voice. I can't blame them, it is hilarious how he can't speak right anymore. Stan, on the other hand was being a whiny little bitch, complaining to his mom that Shelley's making fun of his voice.

Scott was too; they both were, but Stan only seemed focused on getting Shelley in trouble. His mom comes back into the room and says in a rehearsed voice for both of them to stop it. Both agree to their mother's demands, and as soon as Mrs. Marsh leaves the room, Shelley gives her brother a glare.

"Next time be quiet, chipmunk turd," she sneers.

I laugh at her response and Scott gives me a glare. "You too, turd."

The both of them laugh together, and its then I realize.

Fucking hell, they're perfect for each other.

They both have extreme anger issues, hate their younger siblings, and they're both crazy. It's the perfect combination.

I see my half-brother and Stan's sister starting to make out on the couch, and I look away, desperate to keep my mind away from those disgusting thoughts, and keep my dinner inside where it belongs.

The stupid Pussy Boy tapped me on the shoulder. "Want to go up to my room? They're probably going to be like this for a while."

I look over my shoulder and follow Stan up to his room.

I sit down on his bed, as he sits down at his desk, pulling out his math book to begin working on the homework. We're not talking to each other; he's just sitting there working on those stupid math problems, but I know he wants to laugh. I know he's dying to make some smart remark. He's such a smartass, and I know he wants to say something.

"Go on," I snap. "Go on and laugh, 'cause once we get to school, you're not to tell anyone of this."

He puts his pencil down and turns around to face me. "What?"

"You know what. Go on; get it out of your system. I saw that look at dinner."

"What look? What?"

"You know, Stan," I sneer. "You know Scott's-"

"Dude, whatever." Stan shrugs. "So you're like, half Jewish. I don't really care."

"You don't? Or are you just lying so you can tell that stupid Jew of yours?"

"No Cartman, I really don't care. I mean, sure it's funny that you of all people have Jewish blood in you, but I really don't care." He went back to look at his work, then gave up ten minutes later and turned back towards me. "And no, I'm not gonna tell Kyle either."

"You're not?"

"No. Can you just leave this topic alone? It's not that big of a deal."

"Then why did you invite me up here then?"

Stan slams his book shut. "Dude, I invited you up here because I'm sure you didn't want to watch your brother suck face with my sister. I'm aware of how disgusting it is."

I smirked. "That's because it's a hetro kiss."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shut up Cartman. I am not gay for Kyle." His stupid voice cracked again and I laughed.

"You should really do something about that voice, Stanley." I smirked.

"I'm trying!" He whined."It's not like I want my voice to be like this!" It cracked again and he let out an aggravated cry. "Fuuuck."

"Jesus Christ, you're starting to sound like that Tweek kid."

"Just shut the fuck up, Cartman, or I'll tell everyone you're Jewish," he snaps.

So he was going to tell. Lying asshole hippie.

"So you were gonna tell?"

"No."

"You just said you were, Stan."

"I said I would." His voice cracks again."Dammit!" He gives a defeated sigh. "Just…Just go or something. I don't feel like talking anymore."

"I can't go. I'm stuck here."

Fucking asshole doesn't reply and we're both left with the silence. He's just working on some homework assignment and sticks to his silence where as I'm just forced to sit here in his room listening to the sounds of whatever the hell is in his house.

I hear his stupid gay dog barking for most of the time, and when he shuts up a new sound takes over. It's not a loud sound, and it's kinda familiar. I mean, I think I heard it around my old house before. It's a lot of grunting and moaning, every once in a while a sound of loud cry would fill the house.

The sounds are starting to get louder and I see Stan sigh again and shove some headphones into his ear before going back over to his desk. Not having any ear plugs around, I reach up to try and pull my hat over my ears as an old habit, but I forgot that Scott the Asshole ruined my hat.

Apparently it "fell" in the garbage disposal.

Yeah fucking right.

Like something can just "fall" into the garbage disposal and get destroyed.

It's not really possible, and I think Scott's trying to break me or something. It's not going to work; he'll never be able to defeat me.

I fucked his life once, and I can easily do it again.


Reviews? I'm feelin' quite generous today, so all you lucky reviewers get chocolate chicken pot pie. :)