NOTE:
Okay, people, don't get me wrong here. I LOVE my stories; they all carry a part of me. But if there's any story I DON'T want to carry ANY of me, it's this one. I hate this story. I told you all why I started it, so I gotta grin and bear it and finish it. This will be the final installment.NOTE 2: After I finish this story, and Mama Mia, I was wondering if I could do an adaptation of Footloose. Not the musical, the movie starring Kevin Bacon and John Lithgow (?). Ren McCormick will be played by our favorite hotty, Stan Marsh, and the role of Ariel Moore will be respectively handed down to my fav cutie Kyle Broflovski. I'm pretty excited. But tell me what you think.
NOTE 3: This will be my last ultra boring story, I promise. If anything more I write bores you, please tell me and I will make corrections. Thank you and enjoy!
Chapter 4: The Real, Real Death of Eric Cartman
The plan was utterly simple. Well, in Kyle's eyes it was utterly simple. Kyle may have been the smartest boy at South Park Elementary, but for the love of Jesus, this plan was so easy a monkey could figure it out. Kyle woke up early the next morning; he made sure his alarm was extra loud on the all-night, all-day South Park metal station, "97.1 KSBT; Kiss Boot." In fact, when the heavy guitar solo blared in Kyle's ears that morning at 6:30, loud enough to make his brain bleed all his memory from grade 2, his eyes opened with an extra flare of energy.
He swung his feet off the bed, tugged on a fresh new pair of snow-white ankle socks, readying himself for the day ahead.
After eating his breakfast of one banana, and a pocket-stuffed apple, he rushed out of the door without tying his boot laces which shortly after he paid the consequences for after his right soul made contact with ice, and his face with pavement.
When he got to school with a napkin to his left cheek (the doors were open because some students had before-school detention), he swung his backpack around off his back and in front of him as he bent down to reveal the contents of his sinister plan. And then Kyle thought of all the things he had done and what kind of person he had been to his friends and family that it would even cross his own mind to think of himself sinister and how half-convinced to go back home and get back to bed. Then he rethought everything as memories of Cartman flooded his mind. This action of the mind only unpacked his bag ever the faster with an evil smile and fire-struck eyes. He also brought instruments of pain in a wagon dragged behind him.
Inside the bag and wagon, and now on the floor, parse around him, was a container of dental floss (because after all, what evil plan doesn't have dental floss nowadays?), a thick fishing hook, a bucket of water, two bars of soap, a sack of potatoes, and a rope. The plan?
Kyle would tie the rope around the lower frame of the door that leads to the staircase. He tied the rope at the door at the top of the stairs; this was the staircase that must be led down. There were two staircases. One went up, and one went down; kinda like street traffic. There was the big hallway on the second floor. It was in the shape of a long rectangle. Kyle would use the hook to jam it into on of the corners of one of the short ends of the rectangle. He tied the floss through the hook's hole and looped it through the age-made hole at the other corner of the rectangle. The floss continued diagonally upwards towards the ceiling centered above the floor. The floss than was put around the fire exit sign where a sack of potatoes was tied. The floss was transparent, but it was strong, but not as strong as Cartman's ankles when he walks right through it. On the other side of the short end of the rectangle where the floss was, between that end and the door to the stairs, Kyle would pour the bucket of water which was mixed with the dissolved bars of soap.
He stood back and looked at everything. It was perfect. Cartman was sure to fall into this trap; he had pre-school detention. He was the only one too, so he was the only student there other than Kyle. Speak of the devil, and almost literally, Cartman walked up the 'up' stairs with his bag hung over his shoulder. His free arm moved back and forth with every life-taking step he made; it looked like it was killing him to walk those stairs; it almost killed Kyle to witness it. When Cartman reached the top, he glared at the boy in the green ushanka and lowered his face, but kept his pupils focused as to give himself a more menacing look. It didn't work worth shit. He didn't want to talk to Kyle, and Kyle didn't want to talk to him either. He walked to his locker, twisted in his combination, and replaced his bag with his text book and note book. He closed the locker, snapped in the metal lock and continued to walk down the path of the floss. Right pass Kyle. Not even a nudge of disrespect.
"See you, Eric," Kyle said over his shoulder. Cartman stopped in his tracks. He turned around, inches from the floss, and looked at Kyle.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"I said goodbye." Kyle was fully turned around, now.
He walked up to Cartman slowly, but quickly at the same time. Cartman looked around and didn't know what to do. This moment has never happened between the two as far as he could recall.
"What are you doing, Kahl?"
Kyle lifted hand and lightly placed it on his chest. "Reclaiming my pride, you fat fuck."
And he was pushed lightly. He was moved through the floss, causing it to snap, dropping the 10-pound sack right on his head. Stars flashed in his eyes and consciousness was slowly pouring in and back out of his mind. He totted and swerved over until his feet met the sudsy water. He slipped quickly with a shout of surprise and even fear. The fat boy slipped right to the doorway leading to the down-going staircase. He tripped, yet again, over the thick rope, which sent him diving head-first down the stairs. The edges of the steps skidded against Cartman's nose, chin, and forehead, and bruised every limb he had as he tumbled down every step with jolts of pain surging throughout his body. He even landed on his head a couple times, both backwards and forwards. When Kyle ran to the stairs to witness the fruits of his labor, he could have sworn he had heard a crack.
And it was done. The large body laid at the bottom of the stairs a mangled and bloody mess. Kyle quickly ran down, but only ready to be utterly shocked and mortified when the corpse twitched and rose to its feet. When he turned to face Kyle, the boy could have sworn he had seen his brain bursting from a crack in his skull. How was this possible?
"I swear to the fucking Lord, Kahl," the zombie-lard said demonically, "as long as I stand strong, I will see to it that your head is ripped off of your body personally. As a matter of fact, I am easily tempted to murder you with my bare hands this very min…"
But before Eric T. Cartman could finish his sentence, Kyle quickly walked up to him, placed his face within his hands, and snapped his neck. His body fell thickly with a thump. He was dead. Finally. Kyle fell to his knees and collapsed, his hands supporting his weight and pushing into the large puddle of blood that seeped into the hallway. There were footsteps. Holy shit. It was Principal Victoria. Kyle was going to be given the worst punishment imaginable. Jesus Christ, what was he gonna do? But he couldn't move. He felt as though any punishment given wouldn't be enough for what he did. The owner of the footsteps peered around the corner with a smile. It was Kenny. He was smiling? He walked up to the corpse and gave it a small kick to make sure it was dead, and then a big kick for good riddance. He helped Kyle up to his feet and placed his arm around him.
"Oh my God," Kenny said meaningfully. "You killed Cartman." He looked at his friend. "You bastard." They smiled and laughed.
