Wow, magic inspiration all of a sudden. I'm surprised I was able to get this up when I did. Hopefully the rest will come soon. The end of this chapter was the inspiration for the entire fic btw.


Oh dear, that Eric was quite the handful, Liane mused to herself while tidying up the basement. But that was one of the things which endeared her to him. Like this little game he had played with his friend, Kyle—so inventive. Her little angel could be a bit forgetful sometimes though; he'd completely forgotten to untie his friend, or turn the water off. Silly boy.

Hmm, this water damage was proving harder to deal with than she had initially thought. Liane Cartman sat down upon the chair she had freed Kyle from a few hours before, put her chin in her hands, and stared at the mess around her absentmindedly.

She'd somehow managed to deal with the worst of it, but there still remained much to be done. Damp shelves were covered in who knows how many water-damaged knick-knacks; she'd have to find what was still salvageable. And then there was the matter of the pesky three inches of water that still covered the ground. Best get started.

Mrs. Cartman stood up, and moved to the nearest shelf, ready to assess the damage. The crusty, old book was probably a goner. Wait, crusty, old book? Since when had that been there? She pulled it from the shelf, and unearthed a tape recorder from behind it. Again, how peculiar, she thought. She could have sworn that she'd gotten rid of her last tape recorder years ago. Even stranger, there appeared to be a tape inside of it. Possessed by curiosity, she pressed the play button. An unfamiliar voice met her ears.

He spoke of being an archaeologist, and how he'd discovered The Book of the Dead, the book which she presumed was now in her hands. She didn't quite understand everything he was going on about, but decided that the man's voice was sexy enough to make good background noise as she tidied the rest of the basement.

The woman continued on with her work for a bit, idly listening to the handsome voice coming forth from the machine. However, things began to get strange once it began reading passages from the book. Really strange. Scary strange. Drafts of air blowing debris around the room strange in fact. Frightened, Liane lunged at the tape recorder and pressed the stop button.

The air began to settle. Well that certainly was peculiar.

Liane returned to cleaning the room in silence, completely unaware of the strange presence watching her from beyond her sight.

ooo

In the city of South Park, everything was about to go to hell. It had taken awhile, but Sasa's evil zombie horde had finally reached the town's entrance. The few remaining adults fled in terror, at a pace just slow enough for the zombies to keep up. It would have been silly to panic at something that had not the slightest chance of ever catching them, wouldn't it?

However, despite the slowness with which they walked, the zombies were actually rather destructive once given the chance. Poor Mrs. McCormick couldn't shuffle away fast enough. The zombies ate her. The Donovans tried hiding in Tom's Rhinoplasty. The zombies burst through the front window and ate them. The Testaburgers ventured to move the city's remaining inhabitants into the community center—not a bad idea. Unfortunately, when a polite knock was heard at the main doors, Mrs. Testaburger felt it would have been rude to not answer. She was eaten by a zombie wearing a bowler and monocle.

Zombies ran rampant within the center, picking off whomever they could catch. The scene looked terribly grim. Someone would have to do something. And indeed someone did, for within the community center, there was one person who felt the need to stop this madness at any cost. Well, person may have been stretching it a bit.

"Howdy ho!" Mr. Hankey cried, as he appeared before the zombies. "Don't you think this is awfully unfestive of you? You'll be put on Santa's naughty list for sure if you don't shape up." The zombie before him seemed to look nervous at that prospect. Then again, it was hard to tell without a face. "But don't worry, I can help you get into the spirit of the season."

Music began to waft through the air, and the festive Christmas Poo began a cheerful musical number.

You may be dead

You may have no brain

You may like to eat human flesh

But that don't matter to Santa~

You may be ugly

You may be rotting

But that don't matter at Christmastime

'Cuz Santa loves you, big or small

Santa loves you, short or tall

So gather 'round

And spread some cheer

And you'll be friends with

Saaaaa—

The zombie ate him mid-note. It was October 31st. It still had two months to make things up to Father Christmas.

The havoc continued unimpaired.

ooo

The zombies continued to inflict chaos upon the town, one house at a time. There were people being eaten left and right, and by the time lunch was over, the zombie horde had nearly doubled in size. It was around this time that a group of hungry zombies came upon a little green house: the house of Eric and Liane Cartman.

The zombie at the head of the pack trudged up to the front door and rang the bell. A cheerful looking woman opened it, carrying a plate, from which wafted a heavenly aroma. Before the first zombie had time to lunge, the woman held the plate before her, and in a pleasant voice offered, "cookies?"

The zombies where thrown off guard. Never before had anyone been kind enough to offer them anything. It would've brought a tear to each of their little zombie eyes, that is, if they had had eyes in the first place. The zombies each took a cookie, and began munching on it cheerfully. The leader mumbled something that may have been "thank you," but sounded more like "braaaaiiinns."

"Well sillies, it's awfully cold out there. Why don't you come in here and warm yourselves up?" Mrs. Cartman stood aside and the zombies crawled into her house and sat on the couch. "I'll go get some more snacks for you. Here, I'll leave you the remote."

One of the zombies took the remote in its rotting hand, and after some puzzling over what each button did, managed to turn on the television.

"Ahahahah, oh Terrance, you farted!" came a bemused Canadian voice."

"Why, I'm not Terrance."

"You're not?"

"No, I'm zombie Terrance! And I want your brains"

"Oh no! Whatever will I do now?" Being Terrance and Phillip of course, the answer was obvious. A fart sounded and both of them began their hysterical laughter.

The zombies all tilted their heads in confusion. What were they doing here? Mrs. Cartman's hospitality was nice, but Sasa would be awfully cross with them if she found out they were slacking off. It was time to get back to work. The zombies all stood up in unison as Mrs. Cartman returned, arms full of Cheesy Poofs and Snacky S'mores. "I'm back!"

The zombies lunged to attack, but before any could land a bite, they found themselves, to their great confusion, on the floor with various zombie parts strewn about the floor.

"Brains," one said in confusion. It would have been scratching its head, if only it had any arms left.

"My that's awfully rude," exclaimed Liane Cartman. But there was something different about her. Her face seemed a bit distorted, and her eyes shone in a milky white color. Ohh, so that was it. They had been attacking one of their own—how silly. The disembodied zombies, ashamed, rolled themselves out the front door, and down the street, hoping to wreak havoc elsewhere.

The evil Mrs. Cartman, or more likely, the monster that was possessing her, grinned to herself.

ooo

South Park Elementary was one of the few places yet to fall under attack from the zombie horde. However, they'd soon have other problems on their hands.

At the moment, Craig was sitting patiently outside of Mr. Mackey's office; a place he had become quite familiar with over the years. He was, frankly, glad for a chance to escape the chaos that had been plaguing the town over the last week. Going to the councilor's was normal. It was a normal thing that happened to normal kids. No monsters, no demons, no zombies, and nobody dying. Craig was in his happy place—for all of about five minutes.

He was gazing at the wall across from him, when the door opened, and a kid in a black cowl walked through. He didn't even notice at first. However, when the kid pulled a gun out from beneath his clothing, Craig prominently sat up straighter. This was bad.

However, the kid didn't even seem to notice the boy in blue. Rather he went straight past him and into Mackey's office.

"Hmm? Craig, I thought I told you to wait in the hall, m'kay? Wait, you're not Craig." A shot rang out, and Mackey let out one last strangled cry of "m'kay" before Craig heard a loud thunk. Moments later, the hooded boy left Mackey's office, and proceeded to repeat the process for Principal Victoria and Nurse Gollum. Then, without a word, he left the office, walking right past the startled delinquent.

Craig sat in his chair in utter silence for a few minutes, afraid the attacker would come back. But once it was clear he wouldn't, and the initial shock had waned a bit, Craig uttered the only thing that would come to his mind. "Holy shit."

ooo

Mrs. Garrison was having trouble controlling her unruly classroom. She had thought sending Craig to the office would end her troubles, and she could get on with her lesson, but her hopes had been crushed by the cruel hand of reality.

"We gotta kill that hippie bitch!"

"Excuse me? I'm right here!"

"No one's killing anyone. We don't have to kill Wendy."

"Yeah that's right, you would defend your little girlfriend. I bet she has you under some kind of a spell."

"I'm not under any spell. I just don't think we should kill Wendy."

"But Stan, she ate Kenny. Everyone saw her," Kyle said softly.

"See, Kahl sees my point."

"Don't worry, we'll kill the fatass too."

"Ay!"

"Waaaaahhhhhhhh."

"Now look at what you guys did! You made Clyde cry!"

"Timmah!"

"Shut up, you little retards. Do you want to go join Craig?"

But Garrison's demands fell on deaf ears. The arguments continued. Should they kill Wendy? Or Cartman? Or should Stan stop being a pussy and face the fact that his girlfriend was a monster? Or should Kyle stop deliberately opposing Cartman, even when he knew the other was right? Or perhaps Clyde should stop crying. All of this was giving the aging teacher one monstrous headache. How was she going to stop this mess? Well, help would soon rear its much-appreciated head, albeit from a rather unlikely source.

Without warning, random articles began to fly around the room—pencils, papers, Timmy. The children, startled, turned to the back of the classroom where Damien stood upon his desk, eyes glowing red.

"I said, silence yourselves and listen to me!" The class, Garrison included, were silent as the grave as they looked upon the little antichrist. Well, aside from Stan.

"Oh, hey Damien. Where have you been?"

"I said silence!" he roared, causing Stan to shrink into his chair, terrified. "And I've been here the entire time. No one's noticed me. Idiots.

"Anyway, I have a message to deliver to all of you. From my father." The class collectively gulped in silence.

Damien's voice became a deep, booming, unearthly tone as he began anew. "His time is upon you. The sun will turn to black and the Earth will open to swallow you, as the hour of darkness draws nigh. There is no stopping it. There is no fighting it. For he desires naught but one thing: revenge. Not even the littlest child will be spared. And as he picks you off one by one, I shall ascend to the surface, and Hell with me. It'll really be a blast. So long as Chris doesn't mess it up. That guy's kind of a jerk.

"Anyway, yeah, after you've all died, feel free to join the party. There's gonna be complimentary leis for the first 7000 guests. Bye." Damien shut his mouth, looking a bit embarrassed. Sometimes his father could be such a dork.

"There it is," he started, recomposing himself. "From the Dark One himself. Enjoy the next few hours, for they will be your last on Earth! Muhahahah—"

"Oh shut up!"

"Ha—what?"

"I said shut up," Cartman repeated himself. "You're just trying to scare us with your end of the world bullshit." Damien looked taken aback. "So why don't you go and get your little pussy ass back home, 'cuz we're not gonna put up with any of your high and mighty talk. Right guys?"

"Right!" the class echoed.

Damien gazed at the angry faces around the classroom, each focused on him. This wasn't fair. All he had wanted was friends. Why did everyone have to pick on him all the time? Tears began to well up in his demonic eyes. "Fine! I hate you guys anyway!" he cried, before disappearing in a flash of blackness.

"That guy's a total asshole." Cartman relaxed into his desk, glad that the nuisance was gone. "But like I was saying, we really need to kill Kyle."

Kyle, however, did not respond.

"Ay! I said we need to kill you, weren't you listening?"

He certainly didn't appear to be. He was staring at the desk that had just held Damien, with wide eyes, mumbling something to himself.

"He's possessed!" Clyde cried in panic.

Stan gave his best friend a concerned look. "Kyle? What's wrong?"

"Not even the littlest child."

"What?"

"Damien. He said not even the littlest child will be spared."

"So?" Stan was having trouble following his friend's thought process.

"Ike!" Kyle cried, his voice breaking in panic. "They're gonna kill Ike! I gotta save him" The boy made a break for the door, but Stan stepped in front of him, blocking the way.

"I can't let you go out there. You could die."

Kyle seemed to care less. "I'm not losing Ike! Not now!" He pushed past his friend, and into the hallway. Stan stood dumbfounded, watching the other's retreating form.

"God dammit Kyle," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, before following him.

The silence that had fallen over the remainder of the class was broken by a huff from Mrs. Garrison. "Well," she said haughtily, "running off like that, they're gonna die for sure." Wendy, Clyde, and Timmy looked nervous at her words. "But now we can finally get back to the lecture. Now, as you know, Blair was the rich bitch of the group, but I bet you wouldn't guess that—"

The door slammed open, and into Garrison's face, effectively cutting her off, and eliciting a small scream from the rest of the class. The teacher was not pleased. She slammed the door shut, ready to take vengeance on whichever brat that had the gall to hit her with it.

"Craig, I thought I sent you to the councilor's," Garrison reprimanded, barely containing her anger.

Craig stood in silence for a few seconds, catching his breath. Finally he spoke. "Mr. Mackey's dead ma'am."

The balding woman eyed him suspiciously. "That's no reason to come back here. Go back to the office and think about what you've done." Whatever that had been, she thought to herself, dismissively.

"I don't want to Ma'am."

"You don't?" the rage in Garrison's voice was quite audible now.

"No Ma'am. Some kid in a black hood came in and shot everybody. Now the office is full of dead people. And that's why I don't want to go back in there," the boy stated matter-of-factly.

"Ah-hah! We all know what this means!" Cartman shouted triumphantly. Everyone turned to stare at him. "Craig's the murderer!"

"No I'm not fatass!"

"You so seriously are! Why would the killer leave only you alive otherwise?"

"Umm."

"Well?" Cartman prodded.

"Hey, yeah." Clyde seemed thoughtful as he spoke. "And I've been friends with you all this time. I trusted you! I—I could be dead right now!" The thought made him fall back into his chair.

"What? No, I'm not the killer!"

"Then why are you alive?" Cartman seemed to be quite enjoying himself.

"I don't know?" Craig seemed to be rather confused himself.

"Shut up! What is wrong with you today?" Garrison shouted. "All of you take your seats. And Craig? You stop making up stupid stories and get back to the councilor's office."

"But I'm not making it up Ma'am."

"You will do as you're told, Young Man."

"But—"

Suddenly, the door flew open again, though this time Janet Garrison was prepared. She caught it in her hand and slammed it violently shut, barley missing the child that had just burst through it.

"And what do you want?"

The child said nothing, but stared at Garrison. Or at least it seemed to—it's face was obscured by a black hood.

"It's him!" Craig exclaimed, diving behind one of the desks for shelter.

"You are disrupting class young man," the teacher reprimanded the child in black. "What do you have to say for yourself?" The child once again let out no words, but this time, he pulled out a gun, and shot Mrs. Garrison.

"Kickass!" cheered Cartman, though the other children seemed to be too scared to share his sentiment.

Cartman too became grim once he realized the black-clad child was now staring at him. Perhaps drawing attention to himself had not been the best idea. However, the creepy boy's attention did not linger on the residential fatass for very long. He glanced around the classroom, at first Craig and then Clyde, then Wendy, and finally his gaze stopped on Timmy.

"T-Timmeh?" The wheelchair-bound child asked nervously.

Black cowl nodded, then turned his attention back to Wendy, nodding again.

"Ay! What do you think you're doing? I demand some answers here." Cartman was too curious at what the exchange had meant, and too annoyed at being passed over to be afraid. He would not be kept in the dark for long.

Suddenly Wendy, hair falling into her face, jumped atop her desk, a bestial look about her obscured features. At the same moment, Timmy let out a maniacal cry and pulled an axe out from behind his back. The two gleefully lunged at Craig and Clyde respectively. It was clear they were out for blood.

"Holy shit!" Craig exclaimed, narrowly rolling out of the way of Wendy's clutches.

Clyde too, had managed to barely avoid being cleaved in two. "Let's get out of here!"

The two boys both fled from the classroom like bats out of Hell, Wendy and Timmy hot on their heels. Now Cartman remained alone with the mysterious killer. This certainly was not an ideal situation. He looked at the boy across from him. Black cowl didn't appear to have any desire to kill him just yet, though his presence certainly wasn't very soothing either.

Without warning, the light shining in from the windows vanished completely, startling Eric Cartman. Keeping one eye on Black cowl, he waddled to the window and peered out. The scene that met him was not a pleasing one in the slightest.

The sun had been blotted out entirely, as if in eclipse, and from below, as far as the eye could see, were zombies, honing in on South Park Elementary. Accompanying them were the occasional demon of Hell, a few vampires, some werewolves, and a number of other horrifying monsters. A deformed flying creature hit the window full force. It didn't break through, but it did cause Cartman to leap back in surprise. This scene did not suit him in the slightest.

The fat child turned his attention back to Garrison's killer, who seemed to be standing patiently, as if waiting for him to make a move. Giving one last look at the mess outside of the window, Cartman decided he'd had enough. This horror movie setting did not suit him anymore.

"I am so done with this." He walked right past the hooded boy, and paused in the doorway to turn around and say "Screw you guys, I'm going home," before leaving the room, and the mysterious boy in the middle of it, all alone.