Okay, like fucking shoot me. I bought these little Japanese cookies called "yam yam"s, and they come in strawberry, milk, and chocolate. I THOUGHT the red one was the strawberry one, but it was the CHOCOLATE ONE, and I HATE CHOCOLATE. I hate chocolate so much that I was so angry, and so I had to write this story. This story is not about a girl's failure to bring a cup of artificial strawberry flavoring into her life, but more so a story of a young boy's desperate grasp at love.
For those of you who are wondering (and especially for those lovely people that reviewed) I AM working on "Low Class Baby", I already HAVE another chapter for "The Greatest Height", and I don't know what's going to happen with "Super Best Friends". There's just a lot of stuff going on around in this area right here. points to head
TIME AND SETTING: Since this confuses some of my readers, I'll just let you know that they're older than sixteen, but they are still in high school.
Warnings: Slash, bad language, and all the rest of the good stuff. If you are not offended by the actual show, I don't see how you could be offended by any of my stories, unless you're a really, really, really big homophobe. In that case, move along, you will not be missed.
OBVIOUS disclaimer: I don't own South Park, but given the chance, I just MIGHT consider it.
PRETTY BOYS MAKE PRETTY TOYS
I didn't like him, I really didn't. If it was a personal choice, I wouldn't choose him, or any other boy for that matter, but the fact of the matter was, I hated Kyle. So, if I hated Kyle, and the hate for the stupid, fucking jew was greater than my hate for his stupid, fucking friend, I would do it.
I'm not a bad person. I know people always assume the worst of me, but I started out well enough, just a average little boy. I had brown hair, and brown eyes. I wasn't too fat, or too short, or too smart. I was just Eric Cartman. Then he came along. He came along, and ruined everything with his stupid red hair, and his stupid religion, and his stupid goodness that put anything good about me to shame.
It was my idea to start hanging out with Kyle. Stan and Kenny didn't want to. I didn't think he would turn out to be some sort of fucking God that everyone would have a fucking boner for. They certainly never acted that way for me.
Now, years later, I hate Kyle, I hate Stan, and I hate Kenny. I guess the only reason I still hung out with them was because I didn't have any other friends to go to, and it's always a good thing to keep your enemies close to you. You know what, I'm glad I did.
You see, I have a knack for figuring out people. I almost get a sick pleasure out of psychologically ruining them. I like to take apart their inner workings, and their beliefs, and their pain, and their basic instincts, and mangle them until they don't know what hit them. I could always do it, it's just a gift. If I wanted, I could find out their darkest secrets and do whatever I wanted with them.
…Except for him.
Kyle was a hard one to figure out. He was always this polite, quiet, moral sort of boy, and for a while, I nearly gave up on him. It's not hard giving up on something after a couple of years, but it was hard for me, then, just to forget about ruining his life. I couldn't do it. So, I waited and I waited…
…And then one day, it happened, right when I wasn't even expecting the damn boy to crack, he just did.
We were in the Marsh's kitchen, because his mother was the only one who would set up meals and then clean them without making us help, and with actual food. Stan was poking at his carrots again because he didn't like them, and it was such a normal, regular night that I didn't even think to look for anything, but then I looked up at Kyle and everything just made sense. Everything.
You see, everyone has that one weakness that they try to hide from everyone else, and sometimes it's just so obvious that you never could see it for what it really is because you're so used to it. I didn't see it with Kyle because he was always this way, just the way I never really notice how Kenny's poor anymore.
Kyle liked Stan. A lot. Maybe more than anything else in the world. The look in his eyes said it all, and I wanted to laugh with spite in his face because he finally had a weakness that I could exploit. He called me fat, and he called me stupid, but now I could call him a stupid, homosexual fag, and mean it.
I wanted to shout it to the world, right there and then. "Kyle is a fucking jewfag, and he wants Stan to be his little bitch!", but I didn't. No, sometimes a secret hurts the most when it remains a secret.
&&&&&&
Going to school in the mornings was a drag. I hated having to drag myself out of bed, into the bathroom, into the bedroom, into the kitchen, out the door, to the car, and THEN to school. It was just absolutely tedious, and what did I find when I got here? More tedious dragging of the body in a half-conscious state.
Today, however, I was relatively excited. I remembered the day when Kyle took my best friends away from me, who at the time was a relatively innocent young child, and now I was going to do the same to him.
I had a whole night to think about it. I almost found myself squealing with joy when the idea first came to my mind. It would be beautiful, tragic irony. It would take a lot of work, but I was ready for it. I had loved once, and I had her taken away from me. I knew the pain. I knew the heartache. I knew I had to do it.
You see, Kyle was the moral one, but the reason he was such great friends with Stan was because Stan was the sensitive one. He was always the fucking sensitive one, and he always let his emotions get in the way of everything on the damn, fucking planet. Kyle watched out for that when he talked to him. "Oh, don't worry Stan, the kitten's going to be fine, I'm just gonna take him to the hospital." "Oh, Stan, don't be sad, Wendy doesn't deserve you, she really doesn't."
And of course the stupid ass fell for every stupid line. Well, now it was my turn.
I saw him standing alone near the cafeteria, his blue hat covering his dark hair, his arms wrapped around himself to keep himself warmer. I approached him with a smile on my face. "Hey Stan."
He looked up, and gave me a curt nod. Whatever, not like I really cared about his ass anyway. "What's up?"
"What do you want, Cartman?"
"I just want to be your friend." I smiled back, even harder. I was a patient guy, I could handle this for a few days.
"What?", he asked with almost no emotion in his voice, still looking somewhere near the ground.
"I just want to be your friend. Is that too much to ask?" I blinked up at him, somewhat expecting him to punch me and run away or snuggle into my arms in a gracious acceptance of what was going to become a great, fantastic relationship. "Look, I know I've always been such a mean bastard to you guys, but I… Stan, I've just been having problems at home. You know? I don't really like talking about them, but I feel like I could really trust you with my emotions and stuff. You're just such a good guy, and I feel really bad that I said all those things to you. I know it's just too soon for something like this, but I've always been looking out for you, man." I clapped him on the shoulder, and he turned his blue eyes at me, questioning me. He wouldn't find anything there.
"No, I mean, damnit, Cartman. You can't just be an ass to me for the past, I don't even know how many years, and then just expect me to forgive you." He said, tugging his hat down over his hair. "But yeah, I guess we could try being friends."
"You're the greatest, Stan. I knew I wasn't wrong about you being the best one out of all of us." I grinned up at him, hating him in my heart. "Just don't tell Kyle or Kenny about this because I don't feel like I'm ready to tell them anything just yet, please?"
Stan opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, Kyle and Kenny came running up to us, somewhat out of breath. They breathed out small puffs of air, and Kenny hunched over and squinted up at us. "What are you guys talking about?"
"Nothing, you poor piece of shit." I replied. He flipped me off good-naturedly like he always did. Sometimes I didn't really mind that stupid son of a bitch.
Kyle gave Stan a inquisitive look, but Stan just smiled back at him, and that's when I knew the plan was working.
&&&&&&&&
The next few days were hard. I had to make sure that Stan was relatively happy around me, but I also had to make sure that no one else knew what I was doing. I deleted every email he ever sent me, and I made sure he wasn't listed anywhere on my cellphone. I asked him to do it, too, just because I couldn't face up to my "family problems" at home, and I didn't feel like discussing it with anyone other than him. Afterall, if anyone found out that Stan Marsh was talking to Eric Cartman, question would arise, right?
I made up increasingly difficult life experiences to share with him, and he listened carefully to each and every one, offering his stupid advice to me. I hated him, but I loved the feeling of winning over Kyle just this once, and I treasured every moment I spent with him and every moment he wasn't spending with Kyle.
&&&&&&&&
It was a warm day when I asked him how he felt about dating boys. He frowned, and then shrugged. "I don't really know. I guess it would be okay." He turned and asked me the same thing.
I wanted to tell him that I found nothing to be more disgusting, but I smiled and I said, "It depends on the boy." And licked my lips to make sure he knew who I was talking about. I have never seen a boy turn red so fast, and I moved away a little to make sure he wouldn't throw up on me. He didn't.
I moved so that my hand would lay on top of his, and smiled when he didn't say anything.
&&&&&&&&
After casually asking Stan why Kyle always tried to control him, I let it slip that Stan and I were now great friends. Kyle reacted in the way he always reacted: with loud words, and frantic blinking, and the waving of the arms as if possessed.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" he shouted at me first.
I glared. "I didn't do anything to him, you fucking jew."
"WELL YOU MUST HAVE DONE SOMETHING, BECAUSE THE LAST TIME I CHECKED, HE STILL HATED YOU!"
"I never hated him!" Stan shouted, rising to my defense. Oh my knight in shining armor. "Why is it such a big deal for me to be friends with him?"
"WHY? BECAUSE HE'S A FUCKING PSYCHOPATH, YOU FUCKIN IDIOT, OR DID YOU LOOSE THAT PART OF YOUR BRAIN AGAIN?"
Stan's mouth dropped open, and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing. "Excuse me?"
Kyle must have realized what he had done wrong because he suddenly dropped his arms, and moved closer to his friend. "Stan, look, I'm sorry." But Stan moved away from him.
"Why are you always trying to control me? Eric is right. I can't believe Eric is fucking right." He spat out at his former best friend. I tried my best to look sullen and heartbroken at what was happening.
"Don't fight over me, you guys, you're best friends, I don't want to stand in the way of that." I said, lowering my eyes to the floor, and rising from my seat as if to leave.
"No. He's not my best friend."
I looked up just in time to see Kyle's expression. The pain, and horror, and shock, and absolute desperation to believe that what Stan said wasn't true. I thought he was going to slap Stan back to his senses, but he just weakly nodded. "…I understand. I didn't know… you felt that way."
I grabbed Stan's hand under the table, and he gave me a squeeze. I smiled.
&&&&&&&&
We ended up not seeing much of Kyle during the rest of the week, but I didn't mind. My plan wasn't done just yet. Stan was more vulnerable than ever, and I would have thanked the heavens for it, if he wasn't so damn sappy all the time. I wondered who in hell had made the mistake of giving him a damn penis.
It was almost like being with a girl, really, if you thought about he. He wanted to hear the same things, he liked doing almost the same things, and he got really insulted if you stereotyped him.
I needed to go a step further than the whole holding hands thing, and knowing that he might give guys a chance only inspired me to make a move. We were watching a movie, something romantic that only Stan would want to watch, and I turned right around and kissed him. At first, it wasn't anything too fantastic, and it still doesn't really top the charts or anything, but he kissed back, and I found myself almost feeling sorry for using him. He was such a sorry asshole, really. He kind of looked confused afterwards, and so I asked him to be my boyfriend. I knew he was okay with it when he smiled at me.
I drove him back home.
&&&&&&&&
On Monday, I saw Kyle towards us in the hallway, and before he could duck out and miss bumping into us, I grabbed Stan and kissed him. He seemed a little mad about it, but I didn't give a crap about his ass. The look on Kyle's face was worth it.
Not surprising to me, or to anyone who knew how Kyle's responsible little jew mind worked, he was waiting for me after school. "Cartman, let's talk. Please?"
"About what, Jew?"
"You know what." He gritted out, just about a second away from his manic screaming. "Stan."
"Oh… Stan. Well, what about him?"
"Take good care of him."
"Fuck that shit, take good care of him." I scoffed. "What the fuck, are you a man or not? You're not gonna defend your little boyfriend? Oh wait, that's right, you're not his boyfriend. Don't you want to know what he's like then? How he moans when I fuck him?"
Kyle looked unimpressed. "Look, don't be a jackass, I know it's hard, but he really cares about you, and you shouldn't say things like that about him."
"Why are you letting me have him, Kyle? Don't you love him?" I sneered. I didn't understand. Why wasn't he fighting me? Why wasn't he saying something?
"I'm not letting you have him, Cartman. You already have him. You already have everything." He half shouted at me, and I didn't know whether he was trying to catch me off guard, or if he was trying to insult me.
"What?"
"You'll never fucking get it, will you? I don't want him, you fucking asshole. I never wanted Stan!" he cried. I barely had time to register his pain and remorse before he tackled me to the floor, and started shaking me hard. "You're such a fucking idiot, you think you're so fucking smart, but you know shit, you know that, you shit for brains!"
He was sobbing now, openly, a sight I've wanted to see my whole life, but didn't feel quite right looking at. His tears were hot and burned my face, and they landed on the red of my shirt, soaking it like blood. "Don't you ever fucking get it? I don't want him, Eric, I want you. I love you…"
…I hate you, Kyle…
A/N: Okay, wow, what was that. I can't believe I got that out of frustration over some cookies. I'll let you end that the way you want to end it. Cartman rejecting Kyle, so Kyle just HAVING to run into Stan's arms because Stan's also useless to Cartman. Or Cartman and Kyle having loving little half-jewish babies… Or maybe Cartman getting his groove on with Stan because he somehow found his better self in him. WHATEVER YOU WANT, MY BABIES.
Cartman's point of view was really hard to write, btw. ;; he's so unnecessarily hateful and evil. It was really just like "wuuuuut?"
On another subject, is anyone else here maddeningly addicted to myspace? It's horrible, it's vile, it's sickening! . . . I love it, I need more. Tell me if you have a website, or just add me on mine if you have one, okay? It's and I am also not fourteen. I'm eighteen.
& like always, don't forget the reviews… I need them like Kenny needs money. ;;