Ok, thanks you to everyone who reviewed this little work. Yeah, another very short bit. I was told that I should do Butters or Tweek or Chef. I guess I could have, but those would have been more like good-bye sticky notes than letters. Chef's could have been longer, but I didn't really wanna do him. Anyways, this is the end: the funeral! ah. Poor Cartman...
Eric Cartman's body was discovered by his mother on the Friday morning of January 26th. He hadn't come downstairs for breakfast, and she had merely concluded that he'd slept through his alarm. That wasn't unusual. Lianne had gone into his room and tried to shake her son awake. He had not moved. In hysterics, she had called an ambulance. The medical team that had arrived immediately proclaimed Eric dead. One of the team members had discovered a small stack of labeled envelops on the boy's desk.
As Eric's body was driven up to the morgue, Lianne read the letter addressed to her. She wandered aimlessly into the bathroom. She reached up with one hand to open the medicine cabinet; the other hand was clenched around her son's letter. There it was. There would be no need for an autopsy. Eric had killed himself by overdosing on medication.
Like many things in South Park, the morgue was family owned and operated. The daughter of the owner came over to the Cartman residence later that afternoon. Lianne had not answered any calls, and they had been concerned. Lianne had not harmed herself, but she had merely been sitting on the couch staring off into space, tears leaking down her cheeks and a worn, old stuffed-frog pressed to her chest.
It was sometime in the very early hours of the morning that Lianne finally moved from the couch. Her baby had asked her to deliver the other letters. She had failed her son before. She needed to do this for him. The clock in her living room rang three-thirty as the door shut behind her. Lianne trudged through the deep snow clad only in her nightgown and robe, old slippers her feet's only defense from the cold. She slipped the right letters in each mailbox. She knew where all his friends lived. South Park was a small town. They all knew each other well.
She delivered the letters and went back home. Lianne Cartman didn't move again until Monday afternoon.
Everyone who received a letter from Eric had reacted differently. Kenny McCormick had locked himself away in his room all weekend. For a straight day, he had stared at one of his walls. He had just sat on his bed and stared. Yes, floods of tears had leaked out from his eyes, but he made no sounds. He didn't speak to anyone, not his mother, not his father, not his remaining friends. He spoke only once. His blue eyes had landed on the small red pocket knife on his table. Eric had gotten it for him for his fifteenth birthday. Kenny flipped open the knife and cut an inch long slit in his right palm. "I'll do it, Eric," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll get out of here. I'll make good of what you leave me. I swear it."
Stan Marsh, having only pulled himself out of bed around three on Saturday afternoon, didn't read his letter until about that time. His parents weren't to be home until late that night, but they'd be mad if he didn't bring in the paper and mail. Seeing his name on a small white envelope, he dropped onto the couch to read the contents. It didn't take long for Stan to drop the letter to the floor and bury his face in his hands.
Kyle Broflovski was handed his letter by his mother over lunch. Kyle had immediately recognized Eric's handwriting and despite his initial instinct, opened the letter. He almost ripped the letter in half after the first sentence. Eric told him that he hated Kyle on a daily basis. Kyle didn't need to see it in writing too. But he kept reading, his blood pressure increasing alarmingly as he did. His parents and brother stared in shock as Kyle reached the end of the letter and did a double take. He threw the letter to the table and stood, words spluttering as he tried to form a sentence. Then, Kyle kicked his chair so hard it cracked. He screamed and hollered, kicking and throwing things as he moved about the kitchen. His mother had been ready to begin her own round of screaming but was cut off as her husband showed her the last lines of the letter. The raging teenager then found himself locked safely in the arms of his mother, and he began to sob.
Wendy Testaburger was the last one to read her letter. She had been out shopping with Bebe that day, and her mother presented the letter to her as she walked in the door. Curiously, she opened it and began to read. By the time she had finished, tears were streaming down Wendy's cheeks. She looked up at her mother, chocked back a sob, and tore from the house. Wendy didn't know what brought her to Stan's house. Maybe it was because he was Eric's friend. Maybe it was because Stan was her male confidant. No, they weren't dating nor did they plan to again, but she was comfortable talking to him. Stan opened the door, just as red faced and teary eyed as Wendy. She threw herself at her friend, and they spent what seemed like hours crying together on his couch. Before Kyle came over that evening, Wendy fell asleep, her last thought was of how she wished she had had the courage to tell Eric how she had always felt about him before it was too late.
The news of Eric's death had spread through all of South Park by Sunday night. The funeral was held on Wednesday afternoon. None of the junior class had attended school that day. The town's small church was packed. Not everyone had liked Eric Cartman, but they had all known him. It was impossible not to have. The Cartman family took up the first two rows on the left side of the church. Eric's classmates crowded together in the front on the right side. Kyle and Stan sat on either side of Wendy, and the three clung tightly to each other. Kenny sat on Stan's other side, sobbing loudly into his hands.
Butters was beside Kenny, a hand placed lightly on the other blond's back. A few tears escaped his eyes as he blinked. Clyde was holding tightly onto Bebe's hand. Tweek was leaning heavily on Craig and wiping his eyes every few minutes. Token kept his eyes firmly locked onto the large crucifix above Eric's coffin. The priest said something about Eric being in a better place now. Pip looked up at Damien. Damien would know where Eric really was, from either having or not having seen him in Hell. They could ask Damien, but Pip didn't think anyone really wanted to know. They preferred to pretend something else.
Lianne screamed and raved when they tried to lower the coffin into the ground. Wendy began to mutter wildly from her secure spot in Stan and Kyle's arms. Kenny dropped to the ground and curled into a tight ball.
Not everyone in South Park liked Eric Cartman, but everyone saw the effects of his death. On that Wednesday afternoon, there was not a dry eye in the entire town.
Sniff...I love Cartman. Why am I always so mean to the ones I love?