Note: Whew, this is the longest time I take to complete a chapter. A month! Can't believe it
-For one, the delay is a result of me being sick, encountering heatwaves and lethargic.
-Behind the scenes. The two month time skip, I had to revise it twice. Originally, there are two ideas which is out of my comfort zone and futile. Without further ado, here goes!
Chapter Four: More or Less Like Him
The trio made their way back to the entrance of the arcade, "Well... that was fun." Stan observes as they exit the arcade.
"It sure was, but we still have tons of games left in there!" Kenny exclaims, excited to continue with his newfound adventure.
Cartman interrupts, "Yeah yeah yeah, now I need you both to put on the blindfolds again." He commands, prompting Stan and Kenny to raise their brows in confusion.
"Why do we need to cover our eyes again?" Kenny wonders.
"Didn't I just said?" Cartman says impatiently, "Look, I'm not gonna go into details, but let's just say it involves something dangerous. So please, I need you two to do exactly as I say."
"Alright, alright we get it. We're done talking about this." Stan responds annoyed.
The two fairies exchange glances with each other, having split thoughts about Cartman's false statement. On one hand, they appreciate the fact that he's keeping their identities a secret, on the other, they feel uneasy knowing there's something ascertainable about him that they aren't exactly aware of. They decided to put their trust in him for now, figuring he has a good reason for keeping them a secret.
Once again, Stan and Kenny tie the blindfolds around their heads, allowing themselves to get lost in darkness. When the duo is completely covered from their sight, Cartman whispers, "I wish we're all outside of Stan's house." The pair wield their wands and the trio disappears, reappearing at Stan's front yard. Stan and Kenny remove their blindfolds, blinking rapidly as their vision adjusts to the blinding sunlight.
Stan looks up at Cartman with bewilderment, "Wait, how come you're not wearing a blindfold?" He asks.
"How could I wear a blindfold, Stan? Wouldn't it defeat the purpose of getting rid of the element of surprise?" Cartman counters.
"Fair enough." Stan responds. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out, staring at the screen in shock, "17:30 PM?!" He yells in surprise.
"What?!" Kenny blurts out in surprise, "You said earlier that we can still make it on time!" He panics, immediately taking off running. As soon as he made it across the roads, he hits the pole of electrical power lines and falls onto the ground. The pole falls down upon Kenny, effectively trapping him beneath it. Electric currents begin traveling throughout his body until he turns into a charred pile of ash and dissipates into nothingness.
"Oh my god! They kill Kenny!" Stan shouts.
A gust of wind carries a whisper to Cartman's ears, "You bastard..." His eyes widen in horror as he turns his head to see where the voice originate from. A sense of dread as well as chills washing over him when he realizes whom it comes from. The two fairies stare at Kenny's lifeless body with shocked expressions, unable to move or speak a single word as they try to process everything that has happened.
"Are we missing something?" Stan asks after a long pause of silence.
"I'll get going now." Cartman mumbles, his tone devoid of any emotion. Without waiting for an answer, he starts walking away.
"Okay, but in any case that I'm in trouble, it's on you." Stan states.
"Whatever." He responds dismissively, not bothering to acknowledge Stan. He continues walking down the sidewalk while Cosmo and Wanda looking back at the scene in disbelief. A fluctuate of emotions swirl within them, mostly anger, sadness, disappointment and guilt. The pair look at him as he slowly strolls down the street, seemingly unaffected and lost in his own world. At last, Wanda breaks the silence.
"Aren't you going to turn back?" She inquires timidly.
"Why would I?" Cartman replies bluntly, deadpan, without breaking his stride.
"Because he's your friend!" Wanda snaps defensively.
"So? Should I wish him back alive?" He asks bluntly.
"YES!" She yells back.
Cartman stop dead in his tracks and burst out laughing. He doubles over, clutching his side and chuckling at the absurdity of the situation, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. After recovering from his hysteric fit, he straightens himself and wipes his eyes as he regains his composure, "Relax, he'll be fine. He's immortal after all." He adds nonchalantly.
"Immortal?" Wanda repeats with uncertainty, "How do you know?" She questions.
"I've known him since childhood. What I see is what he sees." He answers simply.
"Does anyone else know about this?" She asks.
He pauses before answering, "No, just me." He uncannily replies.
Wanda's blood boils at his response and anger begins to seep through her veins. "Arghhh! Then why didn't you tell us earlier?! Why make us go through a circle of emotions like that?! What's wrong with you?!" She goes on and on, her words coming out in a series of rapid and agitated ones.
"Uh oh... Nagging wife mode incoming!" Cosmo announces.
Cartman looks up at Wanda, who's disguise as his puff ball, "Will you please shut the fuck up! It's really fucking annoying hearing you bitch at me every five seconds!" He retorts angrily, causing passer-by's to stare at him strangely. He quickly averts his gaze before looking down at Cosmo, who's his button, "Would you mind telling me how to keep her mouth shut?" He mutters to him.
"I suppose there is nothing to say..." Cosmo trails off.
He close his eyes, trying to think of another way to keep Wanda quiet. Just then, an idea comes to him. He takes off his hat, revealing the familiar brown hair underneath and shoves his hat in his pocket. His pocket vibrates violently as Wanda still carries on with her rant inside, "We're not done with you! Eric Cartman!!!" She growls threateningly.
Cartman stops by the Broflovski's residence, noticing that Kyle's furniture are all scattered outside, most likely due to his disappearance. He walks over to examine Kyle's belongings, picking up his wallet which was laying near the edge of the driveway. He flips it open to see if Kyle had any change in it. To his surprise however, none were found in the money slot, much to his annoyance. His eyes scan the rest of the items he picked up, realizing they are mostly unimportant possessions. He knocks on the door several times until Mr. Broflovski finally opens the door.
"Can I help you?" He asks, confused at the intrusion.
"Good afternoon sir, I would like to buy all of these things, if you wouldn't mind." Cartman explains, holding up the items, gesturing towards Kyle's possessions.
"Oh! Well, um, you're welcome to take whatever you want." Mr. Broflovski agrees.
"Thank you, sir." He smiles politely.
"Hold on," Mr. Broflovski replies, "Should I call for someone to help pick these up?" He asks nervously.
"That won't be necessary, sir," Cartman assures him, "I'll call for someone myself."
"All right." Mr. Broflovski nods, closing the door once more.
Cartman sighs to himself, wondering what he's gotten himself into. As he turns around, he says, "I wish for a extra room in my house, specifically dedicated to Kah –Kyle's belongings."
Cosmo and Wanda wield their wands simultaneously, creating a vortex of black smoke and transporting all the stuff to Cartman's house, including Kyle's clothes, desk, lamp and curtains. His house expands twice its size, making neighbours run in fear. The three appear in front of the new room, looking around curiously.
"Why are you doing this?" Cosmo questions.
"Satisfaction." He answers simply.
TWO MONTHS LATER [Wanda's POV]
It's hard to explain about Cartman, one thing Cosmo and I can be certain of is that whenever he's having some kind of issues, he'll seek us solely for us to be his stuffed animals. Conducting tea parties in his backyard is probably the best solution we have to dealing with his peculiarities. The times we spend together doesn't mean much of us talking and enjoying each other's company, rather, he barely speaks to us at all. He'll just leave without saying goodbye, as though we don't exist. We often wonder if he's okay; does he even know what 'okay' means anymore?
One day, a janitor walks into a dark classroom with a flashlight in hand. The light shines on the blackboard which causes him to stumble backward, screaming in terror. Candles encircle the blackboard as well as various scotch tapes and buckets of paints. Shades of red fill the blackboard with Cartman being glued to the centre, he was gagged by duct tape. In order to avoid this predicament, the janitor run off frantically, leaving the door wide open as he makes a mad dash towards freedom. Cartman groans, frustrated.
Other days sees him waking up to find himself bind to a railway track. The sound of trains speeding past him echoes loudly, and amidst all the noise, a figure slowly approaches with a smirk plastered on his face.
"Scott Tenorman?" Cartman calls out in curiosity.
"Oh, you're awake. Well this is gonna be interesting." Scott muses.
"What the fuck do you want?"
"Haven't you remember? You come knocking on my door, asking me to kill you."
"... Why would I do that?"
"Now, now, let's not argue. In fact, I should be thanking you for giving me such a wonderful opportunity to fulfil my lifelong desire." Scott then pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket, holding it up so that Cartman can read its contents. "Your death warrant."
Cartman stares at him blankly before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, "Am I seriously dying today?"
"Carry on. In less than a minute, the train will crush every single cell inside your body and I'll be boarding it while sipping on a Ice Blended Mocha." Scott looks at his watch, "Any second, now."
"You know...maybe I should've consider altering our lives beforehand." Within milliseconds, the train zoom past and the scene ends with Scott literally doing a victory dance atop the train.
Afterwards, he's already gotten use to these death threats so it hardly fazes him. Yet again, he finds himself at a familiar warehouse, only this time, a bunch of burly men besiege him.
"What is it this time?" He asks wearily.
"You call yourself the world's best fighter, how about a match against the world's best bullies?" One man suggests cockily.
"On what counts?" The man display a piece of paper, detailing terms and conditions for a hefty sum. "$50,000 each?!" He exclaims, wondering if he's insane.
"Where should we start?" Another man asks.
"How bout his head? Brain splatters are always the best!" A third offers.
"Or his arms? I can use it to scratch my ass!" A fourth adds gleefully.
"But I thought your back needs some scratching?" The third man teases, showing the fourth man's execrable backside.
"Meh, fuck it. Let's just punch him." The first man concludes.
Once again, the scene ends with complete darkness. Whenever this happens, we'll bear witness to his torture, up till he reaches his hand for us. At first, I feel apathetic given it's Cartman we're talking about here, but then I begin to question myself. 'Is it compassion? Why? Sure my heart aches for him, yet deep down I don't really care about him. Cause to me, he's a burden. And always will be.' I sigh inwardly. Truth be told, he's one exceptional godchild who's of intricate character.