Disclaimer: If I owned South Park, would I be sitting here writing fanfiction?
Author's Note: Well here it is, the second chapter…it's a bit shorter than the first, if I'm not mistaken, but the third one should be out pretty quickly – I got really bored and started writing up a whole bunch of stuff. Oh, and check out the poll I put on my page…I just decided to throw some random choices in there as well as the real ones, I don't expect anyone to pick those and I'm certainly not going to write about them, but check it out!
Midnight Dream: Chapter 2
"Did you have fun with your friend Kyle, dear?" Liane Cartman hadn't changed much over the years. Sometimes she spoiled her son rotten, other times she scolded him until he followed her rules. But she was always sweet – almost too sweet. Cartman was always suspicious of his mother. He could never be sure what her plans were for him, and he didn't pretend to trust her for even a second. But he needed her…he had never learned how to take care of himself. "Yes, Mom…" he responded in a bored tone of voice before heading up to his room. He realized he had forgotten to bring the books back home. Oh well. Either Kyle would bring them to school with him tomorrow, or he could just go over to Kyle's house again after school. It wasn't a great concern, really. With that issue settled, Cartman set his alarm and rolled over, falling asleep almost immediately.
He woke up almost regretfully. How he hated to leave his warm bed in the morning only to be greeted by a rush of the cold air that was common in South Park! But, he surmised, he could go down to the bus stop and see if Kyle had brought his books. Kyle was always there early…probably couldn't wait to get out of his house. Cartman laughed, and imagined what it would be like to wake up in Kyle's house. He bet Stupid Bitch woke him up every morning by coming into his room and speaking in that annoying screechy voice of hers. That would wake him up, for sure. Then he felt an odd emotion: sorrow. Was he feeling sorry for the Jew-rat? No, he couldn't be…he delved deep into his emotions. He was right, he wasn't feeling sorry for the Jew-rat…he was feeling sorry for his brother. That's odd. But he shrugged it off. It would only be a temporary feeling, after all.
He huffed and puffed as he ran up the hill. Cartman hated sports of any kind, and that included running. He wasn't fit enough to handle the challenge, and he doubted he ever would be. There was Kyle, ahead of him. He slowed to a walk. The last thing he wanted was for him to think he really wanted to see him. "Hey, Kyle," Cartman greeted him as he slowed to a stop. "Just 'Kyle'? No 'dirty Jew' or 'frickin' daywalker'?" "Yeah, just 'Kyle'" Cartman told him. "Listen, I left my books over at your house yesterday…" Kyle smiled at him, just a bit. "Yeah, I found them. I don't want them in my house any longer, here." He dug around in his backpack and came up with two books. Eric looked at them. Highlights of World War II and The Secret Behind Concentration Camps. "Where's my Hitler book?" Cartman asked. "What Hitler book?" asked Kyle. "You know, my Hitler book! The one you told me not to look at! I left that one over there too, where is it?" "That's impossible, Cartman, there were only two books there…trust me, if I found a Hitler book in my house I wouldn't be keeping it there." Cartman relented…he did have a point. Since when would a Jew want a Hitler book? "Okay, well then where is it?" "I don't have it, you asshole! You probably brought it home and forgot about it!" Neither of them had noticed that Stan had now joined them. "What's going on?" he inquired of his best friend. Cartman took Kyle's pause in his answer as an opportunity to say "Hello, gaywad. I was wondering when you would show up." "Shut up, Cartman," he retorted. He wasn't in the mood for fatass attitude. Kyle proceeded to explain the dreaded project to Stan. "Aw, dude, that sucks. I wouldn't want to have to be working with Cartman." "Ay!" Cartman yelled. "Shut your goddamn mouth, pussy!" He turned around as he heard a low chuckle behind him. "What crawled up your ass and died?" It was Kenny, looking happy despite the cold temperature, forceful wind, and raging argument going on around him. "That would be your dinner for tonight, Kenny," Cartman informed him. "Oh…I was wondering where it went. Thanks for keeping it warm for me!" Kenny beamed at him. Cartman rolled his eyes. To an outsider, Kenny might sound naïve, but it was really just a trick he used to annoy the hell out of Cartman. "Dude, there's the bus!" Stan pointed off into the distance. All four of them were glad when it came, and they could finally step into the warmth.
School was quite uneventful, in Cartman's opinion. Then again, school was always pretty much uneventful, except for their stupid teachers trying to act like they actually know something. His last class of the day was history, and he once again got treated to an annoying speech on their project. "Make sure you have nice and creative presentation to give to the class!" she screamed out at the students as the bell rang. No one was paying attention, but they couldn't avoid hearing her anyway. You could hear their teacher coming from a mile away, really. People's voices aren't supposed to be that loud, leaving Cartman and the other students to the conclusion that she was an alien. He wondered aloud to Craig if she would understand Marklar speech, and he laughed. Cartman had told him about the Marklars at some point last year. "Yeah, that would be great! 'Hello, Marklars, welcome to Marklar! Today we are learning about Marklar!' that would be a riot!" "Ha, yeah, it would be. Well listen Craig, I ought to be getting home…important stuff to take care of an all. See you later." He gave Craig a half wave before walking out the front door of the school. Important stuff, indeed. He just wasn't in the mood for really talking to anyone right now.
"Mom! Door!" He yelled three hours later, while he was sitting on the couch eating Cheezy Poofs. He got no response. "Mom!" he yelled again. "Door!" But when he still received no response, he grumbled about lazy people and went to open the door himself. Standing there was none other than Ike Broflovski. "Can I come in?" he asked, trying to hold in a laugh. Cartman quickly wiped the remainder of his Cheezy Poof meal off from around his mouth and let Ike come inside. "Nice house," remarked Ike. "Yeah, thanks, all the houses look the same though." Then Cartman suddenly remembered who he was talking to, and started glaring. "Why are you here?" "To return this," Ike announced, and promptly held out Cartman's missing Hitler book. "Where did you find it?" Cartman demanded, taking it from the kid's outstretched hand. "I took it! I was in Kyle's room after you left and I saw the book and figured you wouldn't mind if I borrowed it. When Kyle got home though he told me to keep an eye out for it because you were throwing a fit about it being missing, so I decided I better return it." "Oh," Cartman for once had nothing to say. "Thanks. It…wasn't a lie, then?" Ike looked confused. "I mean what you said at dinner, about Hitler…that wasn't a lie?" Ike laughed suddenly. "I lie to my family sometimes, but I rarely lie to my friends. Well, see you later." He turned and jogged back to his house. When did we become friends? Thought Cartman.
Author's Note: I'm liking how the story is turning out so far, considering I have no "template" (other similar stories) to follow along with! I hope all of you like it as well, and thanks for giving it a chance!