Weeeelllll Cartman's a dick he's a great big dick he's the biggest dick in the whole wide world

"So you're stuck here until you perform enough good deeds." Kyle wandered around his room in his boxer-briefs, towelling his hair. "What exactly counts as enough?"

Cartman pretended not to be watching him, flicking through some homework Kyle had abandoned, glad that he didn't have to do that shit anymore. "Satan will let me know. It can either be lots of good little deeds, or one big deed. Or several average deeds."

"And then you can get into Heaven?"

Cartman nodded. He hadn't wanted to tell Kyle that there was no Heaven, unless you were a Mormon. He didn't want him to get despondent about the afterlife. Hey, maybe that counted as a good deed. He was already one up and it was barely 9am. This would be piss-easy.

"How are you supposed to do that if you can't touch anything or talk to anyone?"

"That's where you come in."

"Why me?"

Cartman tried to pull a lie out his ass. He definitely wasn't going to tell Kyle Satan's real reason for choosing him. "Because you're sensitive and helpful and all that totally gay stuff."

"So's Butters."

"Man if I went to Butters he'd still be screaming like a girl."

"I didn't scream like a girl," Kyle muttered, putting on a t-shirt and jeans, to Cartman's disappointment. "What happens if you don't?" he said suddenly. "What if you decide you don't want to go to Heaven? You go to Hell instead?"

"I get erased."

Kyle's eyes widened. "Seriously? So you'll never have existed?"

"No I will have, just not anymore."

Kyle smiled gently. "Satan's lying to you. If people remember you, then you can't be destroyed. It's impossible."

"Cute, Kahl, you get that from a Hallmark card?" But he began to wonder if that was true. Wasn't there a school of thought that believed the soul was earned through good deeds? He began to wonder what Satan's game was really about.

"Morning, Sheila," Cartman purred into Mrs. Broflovski's ear as she went about serving breakfast. "I slept with Kahl last night, hope that doesn't bother you."

"Shut up, dude," Kyle hissed from the table. It was so odd seeing Cartman hovering around his family making lewd gestures and mocking them with no reaction. "You're supposed to be being good."

"No, I just have to make sure that I do more good than bad."

"You're just creating more work for yourself by doing that, you know."

"Did you say something, bubby?" Mrs. Broflovski asked worriedly. "You seem a little off this morning."

"Fine, ma."

His brother, Ike, put down his fork. "Ma, he just had an entire fucking conversation with thin air. Of course he's not fine."

"Language!" she chastised her youngest. Kyle sank back into his seat. He had to watch what he was doing before he got carted off to the loony bin. He pulled out the chair next to him discreetly and gestured with his head for Cartman to sit down and hopefully shut up. Cartman wasn't interested in the slightest and stood behind Kyle's mother as she sat down to eat breakfast.

He took a deep breath and winked at Kyle. "Weeeeelll!"

"Don't you dare," he growled.

He started up again, annoyed at being interrupted, "Weeeeeellll!"

Kyle stood, slamming his hands down on the table. "I'M WARNING YOU CARTMAN!" The awkward silence seeped into his skin as his family stared at him, deeply troubled.

"Kyle, maybe you should go back to bed," Mr. Broflovski advised tenderly. Kyle nodded meekly and the family's worries only grew when Kyle ran out of the room, hitting a patch of space angrily.

Kyle would have to talk to him eventually. He couldn't feign sleep all afternoon. Cartman rocked impatiently on Kyle's bed, his wings flapping noisily behind him. If he got a chance to talk to Satan again, he'd have to see about getting rid of the damn things. Were they really essential? He tried imagining them away but they simply flapped faster. "Would you just stop?" Kyle spat as he flipped over. "That's really fucking annoying."

"How do you think I feel? I'm attached to the fuckers."

"What do they feel like?" Kyle propped up onto his elbow.

"I dunno. I mean I can move them if I want but they mostly do their own thing. Kinda like having two extra dicks." Kyle laughed into his hand which in Cartman's experience meant he was finally forgiven. He flopped casually next to Kyle, his left wing slapping his face. "Whoops."

Kyle sighed, pushing the offending appendage away. "It's okay, it didn't hurt. Just, be more careful."

"I told you I can't control them."

"I was talking more about that shit you pulled downstairs. How can I help you if I'm in the nuthouse?"

"Weak. I'm dead and you're going to deny me the one bit of fun I have left at my disposal."

"It's super weak," Kyle agreed. "But a necessity. You have to behave, Cartman, or this will take forever. I'll be in Heaven before you even get one deed under your belt."

"But I don't wannnnaaa," he whined, kicking helplessly. "I don't want to be nice and good and lame like you."

"Well tough, and you better start listening to me because I'm your only hope and I'm seriously considering dropping you." Kyle grinned at Cartman's sour pout.

But it didn't last long. Cartman sat up suddenly with an ineffable grin of his own. "You know I'd just make your life miserable if you did. 'Sides, you'd never do that to me."

"You're right. Like you said, I'm too nice and good. Maybe you should start following my example," he added slyly.

"Lead on, Macduff."

"It's 'lay on', actually. A famous misquote."

"Nerd," Cartman snickered. But it wasn't a bad idea. He pottered over to Kyle's desk and began to rummage through the drawers.

"Um, wow, heard of privacy?"

"Hush, Jew, I need paper." He pulled a notebook out from under a diary (a normal boring work record, rather than juicy thoughts and ramblings, he'd discovered that months ago when he last went through Kyle's things without permission). "Here we go." He licked the tip of a biro he plucked from Kyle's pencil case. "If you were me – aside from crying about how incredibly lucky you were that you were suddenly so awesome, what would you do? How would you go about this good deed shit?"

Kyle had moved from his bed to his desk already, resting his chin thoughtfully on the back of his hands. He observed Cartman in the reflection of his computer monitor, tapping the pen against the notebook. "Well, first I'd lament how you were the only person I could talk to."

"La…ment…" Cartman sounded out as he wrote. "Done and check. Next?"

Kyle chuckled. "I guess I'd look at my finances first. Sad as it is, money makes the world go round. I'd see what I could do with what I had. You can touch stuff right? So long as no-one sees. You could write a will. It wouldn't be official without witnesses, but I could pretend I saw you write it. So long as I didn't benefit, I can't see anyone objecting."

"Trust a Jew to start with money. Okay, let's think. I had about 22 thou. last time I checked."

Kyle's jaw fell. "How do you have that much cash?"

"You really want to know?"

He shook his head slowly. "Okay so… let's say you give your mom about ten for funeral costs. Unless you want something more lavish. But I think it's already been org- SHIT!"

"What?"

"Your funeral. It's the day after tomorrow."

"I get to see my own funeral? Kewl. Hope you and Stan don't gay it up too much crying on each other."

Kyle shrugged. "I wasn't going to go. I mean… I wanted to but couldn't."

"You weren't going to go? To my funeral? You suck, Kahl." Kyle shot him a disbelieving glare. He just didn't get it, did he? Why he couldn't go. Cartman snorted, "Fine, I'll go by myself."

"No." Kyle buried his face into his arms. "I think I can go now. I didn't have the confidence before. But if you're with me…"

"Oh," said Cartman still scribbling down Kyle's idea, with a few additions. "Well, okay then." He offered Kyle a sheepish smile. "Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. You can't possibly cry more than Butters. Here." He showed Kyle his notes and he got an approving nod for his efforts.

Damien paused outside his bedroom door at the unknown voices from within. Pip was not allowed guests, not when he was 'on call'. Upon entering, he found his toy naked as preferred and hugging his legs to his chest, lips pressed against one knee as he watched a scene on the wall. "Pip!" he bellowed and the English boy stood in front of the portal guiltily. "Are you spying on mortals?"

"I'm ever so sorry, beloved. I was curious as to how Cartman was doing."

Damien raised an eyebrow at the two teens spitting fire at one another behind them. "Not very well it seems. I can understand my father putting Cartman through unspeakable trials but not Kyle."

"Oh don't let their bickering fool you. They're terribly fond of one another. Just awful at showing it."

"You also sound fond even though, if memory serves, they were immensely cruel to you."

"Perhaps," Pip shied away when Damien caressed his cheek. "I have a propensity towards the torturous, it would appear."

"How lucky for me," Damien murmured, biting his shoulder in a fashion as close to loving as the spawn of evil could show.

Next Chapter:

Kenny laughed humourlessly, "Yeah Kyle hasn't been to school either, and Stan's been throwing up constantly."

Cartman raised an eyebrow. Even the hippy missed him? That was the headline of the week.