Disclaimer: I do not own the cartoon South Park, nor am I affiliated with the creators, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, in any way what so ever. This piece if purely a work of fiction.

Author's Notes: I am totally thrilled to say that the last chapter was the most read one in this story so far!
Which I think is totally ironic because it was my least favorite (probably because it look me like two and a half weeks to write it out)! I hope you all like this one just as much! Thanks, as always, to my favorite reviewers EVER, tazrr. who actually colored a picture on deviantart for this story (which is totally awesome!!!!), Ketamine. Methanol who told me that the last chapter was awesome even though I still have mixed feelings XD, trulybliss08 who I hope had a wonderful Hannukah (and for listening to my awesome lutheran story of my mother buying NOT kosher star of david cookies XD)! Thanks also to KATAANGFOREVERanEVER because they are my new friend (I met them pretty much today) and have the longest fanfiction name ever and for being my friend on deviantart LOL and of course to the wonderful xxXK-SquaredXxx for reading the story even though they don't like Dip. You guys need to definitely check out their stories, I am a huge closet fan of all of them XD because they all rock, seriously. And they upload like mad everyday.

Just a few little things:

"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong." - 1 Corinthians 16:13

"If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it me, if the dead rise not? let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we die." - 1 Corinthians 15:32

"And put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite. Be not desirous of his dainties: for they are deceitful meat." - Proverbs 23:2-3

The car in this chapter (presumably Damien's car) is a design concept car, meaning it's not actually a real car, just based on that of another real one. I learned that it may actually be made sometime, but as far as when, I have no idea. The car is a black Bentley s3 e design with a 6.2L V8 engine. You can view it by going to google images and just typing in 'Bentley s3 e'. A crap load of pictures come up, it's the green one. ... I like cars XD

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I Get A Kick Out Of You

Chapter Six

As one would look at South Park High School, one would notice the big picture. It was a relatively medium sized school, housing, besides the teachers, the students from South Park, Middle Park and North Park respectively. One would notice the great architectural job and hard work that put in to creating the rectangular shaped, decent dark brick building, the wonderfully smooth white columns smacked straight in front of the large glass doors in the front of the school, and even the perfectly spiky grass that was currently, like most of the year, covered in a beautifully fine layer of sparkling white snow. One would notice the grand smiles placed on the administration's face as they stood in front of their own classroom doors, perky every morning to come to the school to teach the directed curriculum and divulge them in the wonders of the world to the very intelligent students. Then at last one would notice the students themselves, dressed accordingly in appropriate fashions to the school handbook guidelines, their faces decked out with radiant, glossy smiles, their eyes bright with the start of a new day. Though upon closer examination of the school and its current inhabitants, one would see an entirely different picture, varying completely from the wondrous first glance it seemed to hold. The school, nearly thirty five years old in age, began to crumble; bricks sliding from their cushioned hold against the metal frame, graffiti littering the walls in shame, enormous crater sized potholes broken into the sidewalk and stairs leading to the front doors. The teachers grinned harshly, no doubt mysteriously scheming against the students as they thought up horrendous lesson plans to throw at their students in a fit of blind fury. And at last, one would see the true side to the students. Their clothes were less than appropriate as they showed more than a little private parts of their body, their glossy smiles in use only for mindless flirting with the other sexes in the area, their eyes bright and hazy either from the illegal usage of marijuana sold in nearly every school bathroom or the next day effects of hangovers from the nearly busted party thrown last night on the edge of town. Though most of the students lingered the halls in a blind sense of laziness and confusion, some still seemed to find enough brain cells to filter into various classrooms.

In one such classroom, teacher absent as usual, the atmosphere appeared to be more of a zoo than an actual learning establishment. A few students jumped from desk to desk, laughing hysterically while some sat patiently at their desks, heads down in books while they scribbled quickly over unfinished sheets of homework given out days, perhaps weeks ago. In the middle of the room, a large group of students stood, laughing and grinning wildly as one such student, whom sat at a desk, talked. "Dude, guys, seriously, you guys gotta check this out!" The grating male teenage voice belonging to the occupant placed in the direct center of the room rang out in a series of irritating pitches, ranging uncomfortably from high back down to low as if the male still continued to furiously fight with the hysterics of puberty. "Guys, seriously! Be quiet!" He hollered, sending only a few students around him in silence as he grinned, the rotund skinned rosy cheeks busting out like a pair of misshapen unappetizing cupcakes. "The other day I learned that if you say 'beer can' with an English accent, you're saying 'bacon' with a Jamaican accent!" The entire group, as a whole, laughed loudly once more causing a groan to erupt from the few legit studying students. A few bent over in hysterics while others merely sniggered to themselves.

"Man, really Cartman? That one again?" One such boy calls out, his dark skinned hands shoved defensively at his sides, fingertips sliding against the dark blue fabrics of his jeans. Raising his arms, he throws them over his purple sweater covered chest.

Cartman laughs even louder than before and leans back, his body fat nearly causing his entire body to fall straight out of the desk and onto the floor. Unfortunately, he remains safely in his seat. He lifts a yellow gloved hand to his face and pretends to wipe away invisible saddened tears. "Token! You're just saying that because you're black!" Cartman kicks his legs back and forth repeatedly, "You just don't like it because I'm talking about your people!" Sniggering once more, he cocks his head to the side, "If you don't like it, then why don't you just go hang out with the scrawny blond, faggy Englishmen?" He throws his pointed finger in the air and over to a pair of quiet, whispering blonds seated directly by the fogged windows. Pip sat uncomfortably, his hands folded nervously in his lap as the other boy, in a long sleeved orange shirt and khaki pants nodded his head, nicely listening to the words falling from the other British boy's mouth. With a smirk on his face, Cartman watches as Token rolls his dark brown eyes and returns to his desk on the far side of the room, instantly striking up conversation with a short brunette wearing a rayon blue scarf.

"Dude, Cartman! That was pretty funny!" Another student hollers from the outside of the small knit group.

"Forget about Token," yet another adds loudly, pushing them forward to take a good look at the fat boy in the chair. "How about another? You got one?"

Both arms now crossed over his chest, Cartman sniggers. "Boy, do I ever. Okay, so there is this guy at a-"

An annoying ear piercing whistle erupts throughout the entire room, successfully silencing more than ninety percent of its inhabitants. "Hey everyone!" A blond, grey hooded boy yells loudly as he stands dangerously atop a cracked and creaking wooden desk, orange gloved hands cuffed around the outside layer of his mouth. "Look whose back!" He hollers, guiding all attention from Cartman to the opened door by the chalkboard and teacher's desk. A moment later, he is thrown from the desk and onto the dirty tile ground as a nearby student accidently bumps into the metal legs. After the initial shock of blood spouting from the blond's nose, every student in the classroom turns their head away. Slowly walking in, looking worse for wear, was Craig Tucker. His appearance seemed normal, though upon closer look, his eyes still bore the same reddened dead look with large black bags dragging underneath them, his skin was paled more than normal, and at last, his body seemed weaker. Though, forgetting about the pain in his body, the teen lifts his left hand and flashes the middle finger. Instantly thereafter, students run from their spots in the room over to the previously bed ridden boy, a stream of questions immediately filing from their mouths (no doubt wanting to catch the first bit of juicy gossip from a firsthand source).

Cartman, looking less than happy, leans back in his desk and scoffs. He rolls his dark brown eyes and turns to his left at the bleeding blond on the floor. "Jesus Christ, Kenny! I was kinda in the middle of something! Everyone left!" He hollers, eyes closing briefly in irritation. "Why'd you have to announce to everyone the faggot arrived?!" Huffing to himself, he looks away from the homely boy back to Craig, watching with much disinterest as he received hugs and kisses from nearly every person in the room.

Kenny manages to painfully lift himself off the ground with little ease. One hand presses firmly against his nose in utter pain and in an attempt to stop the blow flow, the other reaches across the desk to his left where he grabs onto a brand new full box of tissues. Before he has a chance to grab, a small hand rests upon his. An instant warm sensation files through his entire body, though refusing to show off any change of color in his cheeks. Smiling over at the little blonde dressed completely in blue, Kenny taps the person's hand with his first two fingers.

"You ah, you shouldn't tip your head back, Kenny! It'll make all the blood go down your throat! I mean, geez, don't health class teach you nothing?" The blonde reaches forward and scoops Kenny's ratty blond bangs out of his face, revealing bright hazel eyes. "There, now you can see too!" A small blush appears on his face as he grabs a hold of Kenny's head, dipping the boy's head until his sharp chin hits the soft material of his ratty, stained white tank top. With a delicate hand, he grabs a tissue out of the box and sets it to Kenny's nose; the other boy's fingers instantly reaching up to hold onto the paper, their fingers momentarily making contact. Tearing his hand away in a blushing frenzy, the blue clad boy grabs the entire box and sets it down in Kenny's lap.

"Thanks Butters," Kenny smiles brightly, slightly yellowed, crooked teeth present. Kenny laughs as Butters lifts his formed fisted hands and starts to knock them repeatedly together in a nervous pattern, his knuckles cracking once in a while as the tension builds in his joints. Hearing a soft mutter of 'oh hamburgers', Kenny's smile soon starts to fade as Butters walks away, no doubt joining the more shyer type of students present in the classroom. Huffing, Kenny tears his eyes from the retreating blond and back to the overweight brunette. "Shit, Cartman. You really gotta be like that, don't you? Come on, Craig's back! I had to have a reason?" He asks curiously, a snap in his voice as he makes a move to sit on the desk behind him. "You're crazy, man. Go fuck yourself or something."

Cartman huffs loudly and cocks his head to the side, his eyebrow rising in slight delight to an idea forming in his head. Abruptly standing from his desk, he manages to knock over every sheet of paper onto the ground and somehow knocking Kenny to the floor once more –the boy grabbing onto the side of his head instead of his still blood gushing nose. Within moments Butters runs to Kenny's side, helping him up as he stammered on about hospital visits and the greater possibility of being grounded if Kenny somehow got blood splatters on his brand new light blue hooded sweatshirt. Cartman saunters over to the large ground and manages to slide himself in, stopping only when he is completely flush on Craig's side. "Craig, Craig, Craig…" He mutters quietly, the slight lisp in his voice now evident as he whispers into the other boy's ear. The majority of the group halts their conversation to stare back at the two completely different boys. "How are you feeling? How's your neck? I see slight bruising… How bad does it hurt?" Cartman bats his eyelashes and wraps a free arm around Craig's navy blue sweatshirt covered shoulders.

"Fuck off, fatty!" Craig responds, face now void of any emotion as he moves away from Cartman to remove the heavy arm from his shoulders. "It's none of your fucking business." He raises his middle finger in defense to the other teen and frowns. "And since when do you care?"

"But, Craig!" Cartman scoffs as he puts a hand to his chest, his face shriveled in mock hurt and disappointment. "I can't believe you would even think about saying that to me! That hurts Craig that really hurts."

"What do you want, Cartman?" Craig questions, eyes narrowed, arms thrown heavily across his chest in extreme aggravation, long middle fingers tapping his upper arm.

"I just want to know how you are is all!"

Craig raises an eyebrow and looks over toward the rest of the gawking group. Rolling his eyes, he scoffs. "I'm fine."

With a smirk on his face, Cartman slides himself back to Craig's side and throws his arm back around his shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. "I'm so glad to hear that, just so glad." Cartman takes in a deep breath, "So Craig, tell everyone, what's it like to be a certified ousted faggot?" The entire room grows quiet as Cartman finishes his sentence, all eyes directly straight to the touching duo. Within the silence only the sounds of rough breathing, Kenny's coughing (as he failed to listen to Butters' suggestion of keeping his head down instead of back), and the occasion awkward grunt and pencils dropping from the platforms of desks.

The harsh sound of grinding teeth echoes within the small space of Craig's mouth. However, after a few moments of internally debating with himself, he finally halts the action, figuring his teeth were already screwed up from lack of braces and years of getting into fist fights (many harsh blows to the face) and didn't need any more abuse shoved upon them. He closes his bloodshot brown eyes and takes in a deep breath. "Cartman, get the hell away from me right now," he whispers quietly, afraid to open his eyes to view the judging looks of his classmates. He fails to calm himself down and before he knows it, his eyes are reopened in glared little slits, directed firmly across the entire room to a large crack in the wall most likely caused when someone decided it was okay to get into a fight with the mysterious French foreign exchange boy. "I said, get the hell away from me right now, I mean it."

"Aw, Craig, come on…" Cartman gives another fake warm hearted glance to the boy in the blue wool hat and squeezes his shoulder. "So tell us, what's boning the OCD cocaine addict like?" At that moment a few students decide to silently slip away, fear on their faces at they manage to predict the future of what might soon decide to happen. "You're top right? Ha! I can't even imagine you ever letting the Spaz take the reins during your 'super fun time'." He lets a few more chuckles fall from his mouth before giving Craig's shoulder another tap.

Truth be told, if Cartman hadn't brought Tweek into the conversation, Craig would have quietly stepped away from Cartman, lifted his middle finger and flashed the bird to every single student in the classroom. He would have walked to his normal desk, sat down, thrown his ripped black bag to the floor and put his head to the table, perfectly intent on taking a nice, quiet nap while he took off his ear muffed blue hat to use for a pillow. Though, this wasn't the case as Craig continued to find himself standing at the front of the classroom, a light blush sweeping over his cheeks, his eyes still in slits, and his body slightly trembling from a mix of pure hatred and near embarrassment. He takes a short turn and faces the more than chubby brunette. "You are such an annoyin' little shit, you know that?" Craig instantly balls his right hand in a perfectly shaped fist and throws it to the red clad teenager, knocking him square in the jaw and onto the floor. "I fuckin' hate you!" He hollers as he stares down at the soon to be bruised face of Eric Cartman. As Cartman begins to roll around on the ground in a useless attempt to get up, Craig marches over, stands directly on top of him, bulky untied black Dr. Marten boots situated by either side of the fat boy's arms. Hocking up a large pile of spit, he lets it slide from his mouth down to the larger boy's tight unbuttoned red sweater. He bends over and rests his arms to his knees, bottom sticking out as he tries to get as close as possible to Cartman's face without actually having to touch him. "And let me just tell you somethin' you ignorant, fat slob. You will never, in your entire life, have better sex than me and Tweek, you got that? You will never feel love like Tweek and I do." Throwing up his two middle fingers, he shoves them rudely to Cartman's face before grabbing his bag from the teacher's desk. "You'll be lucky if a girl even decides to touch you, tubby."

"Shut up, you fucking hick!" Cartman hollers, a failed attempt to gain just a little bit of respect back from his peers. Finally managing to get up after moments of confusion, Cartman finds himself thrown back down to the ground, this time landing on his stomach, as a harsh booted blow launches itself at his back. Cartman turns his head to the side and frowns, "What the fuck man? The fuck?!"

As the last bell rang, Cartman found himself looking at the figure of a tall muscular brunette clad in a pair of dark blue jeans and an equally dark green v-neck shirt. Lifting his fingers to his mouth, the messy brown haired boy grabs at the nearly finished cigarette falling from his lips. He takes one last long drag before flicking the bud in Cartman's general direction. "Eet eez not keek a 'omophobe day?" The Frenchman takes one look down to his muddy dark brown combat boots, a look of confusion stretched over his handsome face before sauntering away, past the entire gawking group over to the two British boys, taking a seat at the windowsill next to the orange clad one.

"I hope you burn in Hell, Eric Theodore Cartman." Craig says softly, his eyes glared in the direction of Cartman on the floor. Grabbing the strap of the bad tighter than before in an angry fit, the black haired boy starts to walk, the group immediately making room for him to return to his desk. "I'll make sure of it."

"You're the one going to Hell, faggot!"

Craig turns back around slowly; anger completely vanished from his face (save for the immense scowl) as his eyes set back upon that of Cartman. "We'll just see about that then, won't we?" The group immediately disperses thereafter, leaving Cartman on the ground and Craig retreating to his simple, broken brown desk near the back left corner of the room. He throws his bag to the ground by his feet and takes a seat, shoving his feet out and comfortably onto the person's seat in front of him. He lifts his arms and grabs at the bottom of his dark blue hooded sweatshirt. Removing it from off his chest (accidently pulling the hat off with it), he throws it to his desk in annoyance. He lifts his arms and crosses them firmly over his chest, covering the Tweek Bros. Coffee logo printed on the light green colored shirt. "We'll just see…"

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Walking out of the school after a tiring, long and annoying day, Cartman was more than just a little bit irritated, especially when he recalled every single incident that happened to pertain to him during the day – getting punched by Craig, kicked in the back by Christophe, sent to the office by Garrison, and thrown up on by Butters during the mandatory viewing of the pregnancy and birthing video during second to last period health class. He grumbled incoherently to himself as he lastly recalled having to walk by himself to the far end of the school to retrieve a spare white undershirt from his locker just before last period that he found was two sizes too big for him which gave the allusion of him being nearly twice his size (if that were even possible). Yet still, after all the events that occurred throughout the entire day, Cartman refused to burst, instead allowing his emotions and violent complaints to bottle up in his mind. So as he walked down the front brick steps of South Park High School, hands in the pockets of his dark brown khaki pants and head drawn down to the ground in absolute resentment to everything around him, Cartman wished for nothing more but to leave the rest of his thoughts from today and curl up on his couch, maybe a burrito in his hand and his precious Mr. Kitty curled up, purring in his lap.

Though at the exact moment that Cartman took the last step down from off the steps and began walking in the direction of his house, something caught his eye. "What the…" He mutters quietly as he steps away from the sidewalk and onto the grass which was currently covered in a near one foot of snow from last night's random blizzard – though when thought about, not so horrendously random as to the location they lived. Huffing to himself in discomfort at the snow now soaking through his pants to his trembling calves, Cartman continues to trek on, his mind now focused on just one thing. When he finally makes it to the parking lot, he pauses and looks around in mild interest before he descends upon the last car parked curiously at the edge of the lot. "Seriously? Who would leave these here?" Cartman asks himself, his hand drifting across the rounded rear end of the vehicle. "Bentley, nice," he mutters, thumbs dragging across the winged silver diamond encrusted symbol on the rounded trunk. When he finishes trailing the giant B symbol in the circle, Cartman lifts a hand and grabs the oddly placed platter full of sweet smelling cookies from off the car, successfully scratching at the beautifully sparkling black paint job. "Oops," he snorts with laughter and takes a step back, platter of cookies in hand. "Not my problem." With that, Cartman stuffs two delicious dark brown cookies in his mouth and gasps in surprise, the taste buds adoring his tongue immediately exploding in absolute luscious pleasure. His brown eyes grow wide before shutting completely, his mind fathoming the possibility of eating something so grand. When the tray is thrown back onto the rear end of the Bentley, Cartman dives at them, managing to eat every single desert in under a minute's time. A soft moan escapes his mouth as he brings chubby fingers up, running the length of his tongue over his digits as he tries with little success to remove all the sweetening cookie particles from off his fingers. When at last he is finished, a broad frown appears and a soft burp escapes his lips. "So much for that…" Cartman mutters, sadness overflowing him for the nth time that day. As he turns back around to head back into the direction of his home, a noise startles him, forcing the overweight boy to turn back around to the car.

As the back left door slowly flings open, Cartman's face bares a look of confusion. Taking a step back to the car, he laughs. "Hey, if you're mad about the cookies, forget it! You left them out there!" He hollers, cupping his hands around his lips to accentuate his deep, bass voice. "'Ay!" He yells once more, huffing and stomping over to the open car. Moving around the back end and peaking inside, he finds the car to be completely empty, save for another silver plate of cookies and a note flush against the startling luscious black leather seats. Instantly stepping inside the car, Cartman takes a seat upon the leather and crosses one leg over the other, grabbing at the tray of cookies and setting them firmly down upon his lap. Lifting three cookies to his mouth, his eyes close in ecstasy. "Goddamn…" Swallowing them nearly whole, Cartman begins the task of finishing off all the delicious treats. Once the platter is empty, he lets out another atrocious burp and leans back against the leather. For a few moments he allows his eyes to wander over the expensive décor of the inside of the car before turning his attention back at the note placed by the empty tray. His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion and he can't help but let out a snort. "There's more than that if you stay for the ride?" Cartman questions curiously, lifting his head up to look out of the car door. "OK?" Instantly when the words fall from his lips, he jumps in his seat, the suicide doors snapping closed, the door immediately locking in place for safety and containment of the overweight boy. "What the fuck is going on?!" He hollers as he hurriedly sits up from the seat and begins toying with the inside handle of the door. Failing to open, he begins screaming and banging on the glass. "Ay! Someone get me out of here!" When he screams, he notices a few stray students walking at the end of the parking lot. Squinting his eyes at the duo, his face slightly brightens. "Kenny! Butters! Get me out!" Cartman continues to yell, but to no avail as the two continue walking, completely oblivious to the righteous black car and its tortured inhabitant.

Cartman's mind begins to run in overdrive as he frantically looks around for a possible exit for escaping. Sweat pours from every crevice of his face, dripping down his forehead, cheeks and chin before landing in a disgusting puddle at the bottom hem of his white shirt. His breathing steadily begins to grow wilder. It only then increases twice fold when the car is put into reverse and backs out of its spot in the parking lot. Instantly jumping to the front of the car, Cartman is startled to find the front two seats, driver and passenger both, to be completely blocked off from the rest of the car by a large tinted dark piece of fiberglass, whether for privacy or another reason. Banging on the glass furiously, Cartman looks closely, only able to see the mop of messy black hair belonging to the driver. "Ay, you! Stop the car!" Receiving no answer from the driver as they head out onto the main road, Cartman's panic begins to lessen, figuring until the car stopped, there was virtually nothing to do by means of escaping. "Just you wait until I get outta here! Im'ma kill you, you black asshole!" Vaguely Cartman can hear the sound of an amused snort. Throwing one more fist to the glass, pain instantly filling his knuckles, he retreats to the back of the car, sliding down in his previous spot on the black leather. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks out the nearly pitch black tinted windows, his eyes just barely viewing the blur of colored houses as they pass South Park.

Smacking his forehead, Cartman moans loudly and pulls the cell phone from his pocket. "Stupid, God!" He yells as he frantically presses the on button. Minutes pass and the teenage boy's hopes crumble as the screen fails to turn on. "'Da fuck?!" He hollers with great annoyance as he flings the phone to the conjoined seat next to him. As he looks down, just to make sure the phone didn't magically turn on; his breath hitches in his throat causing a soft squeak to escape his dried mouth. Another, even larger this time, plate of cookies sat beside him, completely untouched. "DA FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!" As he yells, the car finally comes to a complete stop, the plate of cookies as well as Cartman falling forward and onto the small feet space in the car. After he grabs a few of the cookies, managing to stuff a few in his pockets and his mouth, he gets back up and begins yelling once more. The car door opens and Cartman is left surprised. Quickly grabbing his cell phone, he jumps out of the car.

Cartman had no idea where he was. Instead of investigating the car further as he probably should have (then he would have gotten the correct identification of the driver and perhaps if anyone was sitting in the passenger seat), he stood uncomfortably on the cracked sidewalk. In front of him stood, quite possibly, the biggest building he had ever seen. Nearly fifty floors of darkened black tinted windows (much like the car behind him) stared angrily down at him. The building appeared to be in the middle of the city, wedged awkwardly in between two brick apartment buildings and upon closer investigation, had no name printed anywhere on it and no address of the building could be found from where he stood. It was as if the building appeared out of nowhere and situated itself in an, assumed, empty lot. Cartman swallowed heavily, head tipping back as he stared at the top of the building; clouds covering the last five glass floors. "Wow…" He mutters quietly as he shakes his head and turns back to the car. "Ay! Mind telling me where-," Cartman suddenly stops, a strange aroma filling his senses in a mist of pure pleasure. He moves away from the car and begins walking toward the building, instantly following the great smell, wherever it seemed to be coming from.

Walking up the front steps, Cartman felt a cool breeze rush over him. He immediately grew angry, cursing Hell upon the timid blond for puking on him earlier and wished for his jacket back. Though once the smell coursing through the air slammed back against his nose, all angry thoughts went away and all that was left was pure and utter ecstasy. Vaguely behind him, he can hear the roar of the 6.2 L V8 Bentley engine as the car quickly drives away down the long stretch of city streets. Already forgetting about the car, Cartman continues up the stairs, stopping only when he gets to the front door. He heaves himself against it harshly, smiling brightly as it pushes open. Stepping forward into the large open room, a wide grin appears on the chubby teen's face.

"I'm in heaven…" In front of Cartman, in the middle of the room, laid a long rectangular wooden table covered by a beautifully embroidered black table cloth. The table was packed to the brink with piles upon piles of freshly cooked foods, all different. Nearly falling to the floor in a fit of excitement, he straightened up quickly and ran toward the table. "Oh sweet Jesus, I'm in Heaven!" He cries, arms flailing in the air as he seats himself in the only seat present in the room, a large plush red velvet armchair at the end of the table. After Cartman seats himself in the wonderfully comfortable seat, an invisible hand reaches down and grabs a napkin from the table and ties it loosely around his neck, covering his shirt from the horrors of possible stains present from the delicious foods in front of him. When Cartman deems himself ready, his hands fly to the table, grabbing desperately at whatever foods he can reach. First, it is the same plate of cookies present in the car, and then it becomes chocolate cake. Eventually it escalates and Cartman finds himself devouring into an entire fully cooked Thanksgiving turkey and a platter full of various fish; salmon, pike, even catfish.

Hours seem to pass, each moment of it filled with the teenage boy eating whatever he can get his hands on. At last, when it seemed he had finished off the entire table full of food, Cartman leans back in the seat, his hands pressed over his enlarged stomach. Unable to speak, Cartman closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, his chest seeming tighter than usual.

The glorious sound of perfectly in time footsteps enter the room from the front entrance of the completely glass building. They walk in, take a moment to presumably look around and assess the situation and then continue on, stopping only when they reach the back of Cartman's comfy chair. "Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong," the dark voice whispers, reaching forward to wrap their black covered arms around the grossed boy, mouth directly next to his ear. Cartman can feel the person's warm breaths trail down his face, covering his entire body in a hot sensation. "Cartman, if after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantaged it me, if the dead rise not? Let us eat and drink; for tomorrow we die." The figure's left arm leaves Cartman to place a large cardboard box on the table, the front of the box facing the drowsy teenage boy. As Cartman's beady eyes read over the box time and time again, his face whitens. His body immediately stiffens as a painful uproar flows through his unmoving body, his breath begins to slow, his face sweating immensely as before. "And put a knife to thy throat, if thou be a man given to appetite. Be not desirous of his dainties," the figure pauses, taking a moment to laugh loudly and seductively slide their tongue up the side of Cartman's face, "for they are deceitful meat." The last thing Cartman sees before passing out are the glass windows breaking in a fit of horror, the table seeming to refill itself with the same exact food and the same, horrifying toxic box staring back at him.