"If I hire five, what deal can you cut me?" A thin, high voice answered, warbling off a list of transport costs and food bills. Cartman grunted angrily, running his hand through his hair. "You're breakin' my balls here, Paul. I need a better deal, a better price. It's good business I'm offering you Paul, good business indeed." Pausing for a second, Cartman narrowed his eyes, unimpressed with high-pitched prattling from man on the other end of the line. "No Paul, no no no. That's no good. Half that number, then we'll start talking." The prattling became pressured, even more desperate. Cartman exhaled, vaguely irritated. "Listen, I'm going to call you back in an hour. If you've sorted your figures out by then, we might be able to do a deal. Until then, you're just wasting my time!"

Pursing his lips, he hung up, cutting Paul off mid sentence. Picking up another pamphlet, he began to dial, pen poised and ready above a sheet of notepaper. Whilst waiting for someone to answer, he narrowed his eyes at his screens, watching Wendy flicker across the monitor. She must be doing her English homework or something, she was pacing across her room, skimming through a beat-up copy of Romeo and Juliet.

After ten irritating rings, and some violent teeth grinding from Cartman, someone finally answered the phone.

"Hello, Barry's Discount Party Warehouse, how can I help?"

"Hello, I'm calling up to enquire about decorations for an event I'm throwing next weekend. I was wondering if you could help me?"

"We certainly, Mr…"

"Cartman.

"Ah, Eric! It's wonderful to hear from you again! It's been so long!"

Cartman frowned, glaring at his wall. Repeat business meant better discounts, but it also meant overly friendly familiarity with the staff. And Cartman hated friendly staff. Nevertheless, he powered though it, if he acted nice enough he might get a case of streamers thrown in pro bono. "Yes Barry! Hi! It has been a while, I must admit."

"How've you been?"

"I've been good, good. I need some decorations though, I was wondering if you could help?"

"Of course I can help you Eric! What's the occasion this time? Another parade? Another intervention? Another leaving party? Birthday party? Another wake?"

Cartman twisted his lip. Barry's overly cheerful, overly friendly attitude was painfully grating. It was a little bit like talking to Butters. "It's for a street party Barry. A big street party. Maybe even another carnival, if I can get the elephants sorted out."

"A carnival! How wonderful! Will it be another chili-themed celebration? Will you be going for the yellow banners and bright balloons again?"

"No no, it's something better then chili celebration this time. Something far, far more volatile then chili."

"Oh how fun!" Cartman winced. The cheerfulness was beginning to make his stomach ache. He made a mental note to punch Butters the next time he saw him. "So, what are you looking for?"

For a second Cartman thought, absent mindedly sucking on the end of his pen. "Balloons, of course. Banners, streamers, confetti… And glitter. Lots and lots of glitter."

"Lots of glitter, of course, no problem. And your colour scheme?"

"Maybe… Maybe pink. Either pink, or rainbow. Or both, a mixture of the two. Pink banners and rainbow flags. We'll see what we can do."

"Ah I see. You're throwing this party for a lady then?" Naïve old Barry, stupid, overtly friendly, naïve old Barry.

Cartman's lips twisted into a smirk. He watched Wendy pause for a second, crossing her arms as she looked at the ceiling, frowning as she pondered something. The importance of duality in the play, the dramatic structure of the text . Mercutio's relationship with Romeo. "Yes, you could say that, I guess. I suppose I am doing all this for a lady. I very, very special lady."

"Well, she sounds like a very lucky girl."

"Oh, she's the luckiest."

Someone was clopping down the stairs, quick and rhythmical. Frowning, Cartman spun round, glaring as Kenny trotted nonchalantly into the basement.

"Hey Eric, whatcha doi…" He trailed off once he spotted the stacks and stacks of monitors, screen on top of screen flickering away. Cartman's mom had told him he was 'playing CIA', but this, this was something else. Narrowing his eyes, Kenny glanced across the cold cement floor, eyes transfixed to the screens. Hissing though his teeth, Cartman tried to shoo him away, phone still pressed firmly against fat ear. Barry was rattling off lists of pink and rainbow coloured decorative items, flags, streamers, bunting, asking Cartman what his fancy.

Kenny just stood there, mouth open, eyes wide. He was watching Wendy, watching her pace backwards and forwards across her room, watching her carefully flicking though her book. "Jesus Christ Eric. One of these days you're going to find yourself strapped to a gurney, imprisoned in a Perspex cube…"

"I'm on the phone Kenny! Go away!" Cartman hissed it, careful to cover the receiver's mouthpiece. Barry was still listing products. He'd moved on to the balloon selections. He was listing every shape, size, make and colour he had in stock.

Kenny didn't go away. Kenny did the exact opposite of going away. He walked round the monitors, stepping across the cement floor to a rickety old coffee table, a coffee table that had been overloaded with papers and shoved into a corner. Cartman rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath. "Listen, Barry, I'll leave you to do a quick stock check, alright? You price me up some streamers, some balloons, a few banners, a little bit of that pink bunting, you get all that sorted and I'll call you back tonight, alright? Alright. Bye Barry!" With that, Cartman clicked off, dropping the phone back on the desk, spinning round to glower at Kenny.

Across the room, Kenny began to fan out a stack pamphlets, running his fingers across the glossy photos of marquees and clowns and elephants.

"What are you planning, Eric?"

"Revenge, Kenny."

"What kind of revenge, Eric?"

"That's none of your business, Kenny."

"You're not going to throw another Chili-Con-Carnival, are you? Because Wendy's vegetarian and she knows you, if you offered her a bowl of chili, she sucker punch your crotch." He paused for a second, biting his lower lip. "Besides, it'd seem awfully like you actually were loosing your touch if you had to revert to re-runs and repeats."

Cartman narrowed his eyes, pulling himself out of his chair and lumbering across the basement. Kenny took a worried step back, but Cartman ignored him, instead choosing to snatch the stack of pamphlets up off the table, clutching them possessively against his chest. "I'm not throwing another Chili-Con-Carnival, not again. I'm not loosing my touch Kenny! What I've got planned, what I've got planned is better, bigger, what I've got planned is brilliant. I'm going to destroy her Kenny, I'm going to destroy her in a way she never saw coming. Just you wait!"

"I've been waiting for a week, Eric. You've done absolutely nothing besides mildly irritate her. Fuck, I mildly irritate her, so that's hardly and achievement!"

"Well Kenny, just you wait! I can guarantee that by this time next week, by this time next week shit will have gone down!"

Kenny just rolled his eyes, stretching out his shoulder blades. "Whatever Eric. You keep bigging all this revenge shit up, but you never actually do anything. You're all sock and no peenie, in my opinion."

Glowering, Cartman tightened his grip on the pamphlets, crumpling the paper with his tubby fingers. "What the fuck are you doing here anyway, ghettotit? Shouldn't you be out scoring crack and stealing cars?"

"Nah, I finished my chores this morning. I was just wondering if you wanted to play some videogames or something? I'm bored, lardass"

"I'm busy po'boy. Go away and bother Stan or something."

The corner of Kenny's lip quirked, drooping slightly. Exhaling, he threw himself onto a chair, crossing his legs and interlacing his fingers. "I can't. He's taken Kyle camping up nearNorth Park. They left this morning."

Cartman snorted, tapping a number into his phone. "Camping. How ironic."

"Ironic? How is that ironic?"

"It just is."

Kenny frowned, giving Cartman a condescending look. "I don't think you quite understand what irony is, Cartman."

"I understand the concept of irony just fine, po'boy! Now would you please get the fuck out of my basement and let me get back on with my work? I've got phone calls to make!"

"What if I don't want to?" Kenny said it petulantly, his blue eyes flashing as he crossed his scrawny legs. Cartman felt his cheeks flush with anger.

"Well, let me put it this way. You can either leave right now, unblooded, with the correct number of holes in you, or you can wait here whilst I go get one of Jimbo's guns."

"I dunno, it might be quite fun to have a new hole put in me. I'm so bored playing with the ones I already have."

"I swear to God Kenny, I swear to God…"