Here's Chapter 4 - I was in the middle of doing my Precalc homework when I suddenly had the urge to continue writing. But I do apologize for the shortness of this chapter; the next one will be longer, with any luck. :)
Kyle was in the middle of eating dinner with his family when the telephone rang.
"Why don't you get that, bubelah," Sheila Broflovski suggested, spooning some more peas onto Ike's plate. "I'm expecting a call from your aunt."
Kyle hopped down from his chair and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
Stan's anxious voice greeted him from the other end. "Look, dude, are you busy right now?"
"I'm just eating dinner. Does that count?" Kyle said in a semi-joking manner.
"Okay, listen. It's about Wendy. Did… did she say anything about me after I left to be with Tweek and Butters? Did…did she look… upset… or what?"
"Um…" Kyle thought back to the afternoon, which wasn't an easy task, considering how much had happened in such a small amount of time. "Oh yeah… she did look pretty upset. She and Bebe left pretty much after you did."
"They did?" Stan asked in a low voice. "Where did they go?"
"I don't know," Kyle responded honestly. "All I know is Wendy looked upset and it looked like she was about to cry, then she grabbed Bebe's arm and they left."
"Oh. I see," Stan said, sounding slightly disappointed. "So, um… she didn't say anything else?"
"No, she didn't," Kyle said. He paused. "Look, Stan… why don't you just call her?"
"Call her!" Stan exclaimed, losing his anxious tone. "What are you, crazy? I can't call her! It's obvious she hates me and doesn't want me playing Joseph in the pageant! I mean, you saw her reaction when she heard the news from Bebe – she hates me!"
"She doesn't hate you, Stan," Kyle responded matter-of-factly. "I think she was just a little surprised is all. I mean, she'll probably be over it by tomorrow."
"Oh, yeah, I'm sure she will," Stan replied sarcastically. Obviously, he felt the urge to vent out his anger and frustration on Kyle tonight. "Like you care what Wendy thinks of me. It makes no difference to you whether or not she wants to be around me. Do you realize how much she hurt my feelings after I saw the expression on her face?"
"Stan, please calm down," Kyle implored. "Do you want me to talk to her tomorrow or something? Would that help?"
He heard Stan sigh. "I guess," he said glumly. "I don't know… when did life ever become so confusing?"
Kyle was about to respond when he heard a sudden beeping on his line; the call-waiting. "Hey, Stan, I have to go now. I'll call you later, okay?" Click – he switched to the other line. "Hello?"
"Kyle?" It was Cartman.
"Oh. Hey. What's up?" Kyle said, inwardly wondering why the hell Cartman would be phoning him.
"Are you doing anything tonight?" Cartman asked.
"No," Kyle responded, caught completely off-guard.
"Can you come over?"
"… Why?" Kyle asked, perplexed.
"Because, asshole, we have to talk about the pageant," Cartman said in an irritated voice. "When I tell everyone all this stuff tomorrow anyway, I don't want you being all surprised and speaking out against it. So I figured we could talk over everything tonight."
Kyle didn't know how to respond. "Wow, Cartman… you actually care about what I think?"
"Of course not. I just don't want you throwing a fit about it tomorrow at rehearsal," Cartman responded quickly.
"Ah… okay. Did you find your notes?"
"No. I haven't got a fucking clue where they are." Cartman cleared his throat. "Kyle… did you really take them?"
"No, I did not," Kyle answered honestly. "I didn't touch them, and I don't know where they are. Maybe they're buried in the snow somewhere."
"Well, they certainly weren't up my ass," Cartman added in a joking manner.
Kyle laughed. "Yeah, well… what time you want me coming over?"
"I dunno. Around 7, maybe?"
"Okay. I'll ask my mom, but I'm sure it'll be no problem. See you then." Kyle hung up the phone, then blankly stared at the wall in front of him. He'd just held a normal conversation… with Cartman. The thought was almost inconceivable. Who would've ever thought that could happen?
Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, he returned to the dining room and sat down at the table. "Mom, is it okay if I go over to Cartman's house after dinner?" he asked.
"And why would you need to do that, bubbie?" Sheila questioned.
Kyle took a deep breath; it had suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't told his parents yet about the pageant. "Well, I don't know if you've heard about this yet or not… but Mr. Garrison, Father Maxi, and Principal Victoria want us fourth-graders to put on a pageant this year to raise money for the needy families. They just told us today, and um, Cartman and I are heading it."
Sheila, who had been – for the third time – trying to get Ike to eat his peas, dropped her fork in surprise. "A pageant? You mean a Christmas pageant?"
"Um, yeah, kind of," Kyle responded timidly. Damn it! If his mom was totally against the idea, she could easily telephone Mr. Garrison and give him a mouthful about it. Mr. Garrison would then become so pissed off (as he usually did) and just decide to kick Kyle out of the whole pageant. "But, listen, Mom – it's an educational experience. Plus, it's raising money for the needy families! And they need extra cash around the holidays to buy gifts for their children, don't they?"
"I think it's a good idea, Sheila," Gerald interjected. "Besides, there's no need to isolate Kyle just because of his religion."
"Well…will there be any Jewish themes incorporated in this pageant?" Sheila pressed. It was obvious she didn't want the taint of a Christmas pageant to touch her Jewish son. "Perhaps I should talk to Mr. Garrison about this. I don't want any other Jewish kids feeling suppressed or overwhelmed by being forced to participate in a pageant woven solely by Christian influence…"
"Mom, no!" Kyle protested. "Look… nobody else cares, okay? You'd be forcing me to live in humiliation – what would Cartman say – " Suddenly he cut himself off, in complete disbelief of what had just come pouring out of his mouth. He didn't give a fuck what Cartman thought about him; he really didn't. Really.
"I just don't feel good about this," Sheila said briskly. Standing up quickly, she began gathering the dirty dishes and walked into the kitchen. "It just doesn't seem like a good idea…"
"Don't worry, son," Gerald reassured Kyle. "I'll take you over to your friend's house tonight, and I'll try to talk your mother into this pageant." He stood up as well, and, grabbing the newspaper, proceeded into the living room to dive into the world of sports.
Kyle faced Ike. "Our family's pretty fucked up, huh, Ike?"
"Fuuuuuuucked!" Ike repeated in a sing-song manner, and, with a childish yet defiant look on his face, dumped his peas onto the floor.
Later that evening, Gerald dropped Kyle off in front of Cartman's house. Climbing out of the vehicle, Kyle said, "Thanks, Dad!" before slamming the door and continuing up the front walk.
It was going to be another frosty but beautiful night, Kyle decided, pausing on the front porch to look up at the starry sky above him. It had begun to snow again, as light snowflakes were falling to the snowy ground around his feet. He had the sudden urge to make a snow angel in the snow around him; or better yet, go sled-riding. Or perhaps have another kickass snow fight with Stan and the guys.
"What the hell are you doing, Jew?" Cartman's voice cut through Kyle's daydream; the heaven-like atmosphere Kyle had been surrounded by suddenly shattered into a million pieces around him.
"Wha – oh, nothing," Kyle said, suddenly embarrassed. "Just… you know… it's snowing outside again…"
"Yeah? So?" Cartman, on the other side of the glass door, stared at him with one eyebrow raised.
"Oh, never mind, Cartman," Kyle suddenly snapped. Figures Cartman couldn't comprehend how beautiful it was outside; he had the emotional capacity of dry toast. "Are you going to let me in or not? It's a little cold outside, in case you haven't noticed…"
Rolling his eyes, Cartman retreated away from the door and disappeared somewhere, leaving Kyle to let himself into the house.
"Oh boy, Kyle!" an excited voice twanged with a Southern accent greeted him. Turning to his left, Kyle was surprised to see Butters sitting happily on the couch, watching what looked like an episode of Full House. "I didn't know you were comin' over too! Wow-ee, this is just like a party!"
"Shut the hell up, Butters," Cartman said automatically, reappearing in the living room with a notebook. Turning to Kyle, he explained, "His parents went out to dinner and asked my mom if she would baby-sit him for a couple hours. Trust me, I had no authoritah over this."
"Well, all your little friends should know that they're welcome over here any time!" came Liane Cartman's voice from the kitchen. "Oh, how I love seeing my Eric having nice friends to play with again." She stuck her head into the living room, her hands covered with mitts; Kyle suspected she might be making cookies. "And he's told me all about the pageant and how he's so excited about it; it's wonderful that he's participating in something again." She beamed at her son, who was glaring at her as if he wanted nothing more for immediate death.
"Thank you, Mom, that's enough," Cartman said between gritted teeth, flipping off his mother as she returned to her baking. "Goddammit, I hate that whore."
"Now-now Eric, that isn't very nice," Butters scolded slightly, his eyes still glued to the television. "God doesn't like for us to call each other names – oh, no, D.J., don't take that beer from her! Oh, I can't watch!" And he promptly covered his eyes with his hands as D.J. hungrily eyed the booze on the television screen.
"Ah… right." Kyle turned to Cartman. "You wanted to talk about the pageant?" He gestured towards the notebook Cartman was clutching. "Are those your new notes?"
"Indeed they are." Sitting down next to Kyle, he flipped open the notebook. "You can read this over for yourself – this is basically what I'm going to talk about tomorrow with everyone else. Just… you know… let me know what you think." With his ears reddening a bit, he turned to the television screen and pretended to be interested in it.
One glance at the neatly-printed words on the page confirmed that Cartman was truly interested in this pageant; idea after idea flowed from page to page. Kyle was speechless; utterly and completely speechless. Was this really all Cartman's work? It was just so… involved… and – Kyle hated to admit it – damn good!
-For the manger scene, have the traditional Star of Christmas the Church uses every year in the background.
-Recruit a choir, perhaps anyone from kindergarten to third grade, so everyone can participate; wear white gowns with ?candles? - sing songs when people come into the auditorium, during the pageant, and after.
-Use some lines from "A Christmas Carol" incorporated in the Pageant script, keeps audience awake.
-Costumes – Church might have some; Goodwill connections; Mrs. Swain in Middle Park can donate good costumes and accessories
-Scenery – painters can come the same time as the actors and just paint while we rehearse, in the gym perhaps… paint can be donated by the church.
"Jesus, Cartman," Kyle said, looking up from the notes in awe. "Wow… these are pretty good…I mean, they're really good…"
"You think so?" Cartman asked, sounding a tad pleased. He took the notebook back from Kyle. "Well… I had more ideas in my original notes, but God knows where they are. What you see there is basically all that I could remember."
"Notes?" Butters asked, turning away from the television. "For the pageant? Why, can-can I see them? Oh boy, I'm so excited for this pageant! Am I really goin' to be a Wiseman? That's what I signed up for; by golly, I hope I get that part!" He bounced up and down in anticipation.
Cartman groaned. "Yes, Butters, you are a Wiseman; anyone who signed up for a part got it, okay?" he said in an agitated voice. "Here… look for yourself." And he threw the notebook onto Butters' lap, who opened it immediately and immersed himself in it.
A minute of silence passed; Kyle could hear random banging in the kitchen. He wondered briefly if Mrs. Cartman was really baking cookies and if he would be able to eat some later.
"Hey, do you think that North Park kid really meant what he said?" Kyle suddenly blurted out, breaking the silence.
"You mean about making South Park sorry? Nah," Cartman said. "I mean, rivalry with that town has been going on forever. You'd think they'd be over it by now. I certainly am."
"Well, I hope you're right. North Parkers are nothing but trouble; and they can certainly cause it if they want to," Kyle responded in a serious tone. He then switched subjects. "Hey… is your wrist okay?"
"My wrist?" Cartman glanced down at his bandaged arm. "Yeah, it's fine. Just a small cut. I've had worse, Jew – you don't have to look so concerned."
"I'm not concerned, fatass," Kyle snapped back forthwith. "I was just wondering, that's all." Embarrassed, he turned away from Cartman and stared elsewhere.
"Oh, boy!" Butters suddenly interrupted, clapping his hands. He'd obviously just finished reading Cartman's notes. "Why, Eric, I don't think I've ever seen something planned out so well before. This pageant is going to be hand-smackin' good, I can feel it already."
"Okay, Butters, don't have an orgasm over it," Cartman said, throwing his notebook onto the end table beside him. "Aren't your parents supposed to be home from the restaurant now? Jesus Christ, they've been eating for over an hour! How long does it take to eat one fucking meal?"
"Why, Eric, I don't know," Butters responded innocently. "But I'm glad they're not here; I like spendin' time with my friends! I hardly get to spend time with you and Kyle and Stan…"
Stan. At the sound of that name, Kyle sat up suddenly – he'd forgotten to call Stan back! Dammit, Stan was going to be really pissed about that, especially now that he was so distraught over the Wendy situation. Standing up quickly, Kyle turned to Cartman. "Hey, Cartman, I gotta go now. Thanks for having me over and everything. Your ideas were really good."
Stepping over Butters' legs, Kyle made his way into the foyer. He was in the middle of slipping his mittens back on when he heard Cartman cough behind him. "Look, uh, Kyle… I'm sorry if I … hurt your feelings today at lunch. Sorry about… you know… taking your position as overseer and stuff." He stared at the ground, his ears reddening again.
Kyle looked at him in surprise. He'd never seen this side of Cartman before – he almost seemed… human. "It's okay, Cartman. I'm over it. Besides, my ideas suck compared to yours. It's cool." He opened the door and was about to step out when he heard Cartman call again, "Kyle?"
"Yeah?" he turned around.
"Well, I just wanted to say that… HAHAHAHA! Figures a stupid Jew can't tell when someone's being serious or not! Some things never change, do they, Kyle?" And with another wicked grin at the jolted redhead in front of him, he slammed the door in his face.
Kyle stared at the door, feeling extremely taken-aback. Then, walking down to the street, he angrily shook himself for being so stupid. For a second there, he had actually believed that Cartman was actually a nice person; a person whom he could identify with and actually be friends with. But now, he thought irately, that's never going to happen.
"Yeah, some things never do change," Kyle murmured bitterly to himself, forcefully kicking a chunk of ice out of his way. "Goddamn you, fatass…"
And he made his way home, trying to force the picture of Cartman apologizing kindly to him out of his mind. He didn't need Cartman's friendliness or acceptance. He was just a lump of fat with no emotions or feelings.
Yet he still couldn't get Cartman's apology out of his ears.