Yay chapter two!
Eric Cartman; Self-Appointed Anti-Christ
Chapter 2: The Vatican is Always Plotting!
Cartman strolled down the main street of South Park towards the public library. He had gotten almost all of his plan worked out.
The most critical part was complete, and that was having Damien trapped in a location where he couldn't use his magic and kill them all and go back to hell. He had consulted a gypsy and gotten a few seals, they were plastered all over his bedroom and on the outsides of the door and window.
Now, he had to find a way to get adoption papers, and mail off his kidnapping notice to Satan. Luckily, Satan had a PO box.
To explain why he was going to the library, he was looking for the only person in South Park that would be able to help him with the adoption papers.
Wendy Testaburger.
"Watch where the fuck you're going, Cartman!" she shrieked as they collided, she hit the sidewalk rather hard.
"Get out of my way, ho, I need to get to the library and find W-" He stopped. "Oh. Well, while you're here," he said, looking down at her. He extended a hand to help her up and she looked at it warily. "Do you want to roll around on the sidewalk like the dirty hippie you are or are you going to appreciate my random act of kindness."
She snorted and grabbed his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. She gathered up her fallen books and glared at him. "What do you want?"
"I need you to find a way to get me certified adoption papers," he said.
"Why should I?"
"Because I'll remember it when I become the Anti-Christ and won't burn you in my fiery wrath?"
Wendy raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding right?"
He shook his head.
"Fine. I'll help you. But I don't think this plan is going to work," she said. "When do you need it?"
"Preferably by tomorrow night." He had scoped it out, and if he wanted to be the Anti-Christ before the end of Spring Break, he had to have everything in order by Wednesday, and today was Tuesday.
"I'll see what I can do," she said with a sigh.
Vaguely, Cartman pondered when Wendy had started rolling over so easily, but he didn't concern himself with it and walked onward to the Post Office. He just dumped his enveloped and stamped letter into a mailbox and turned to walk home.
Back at the Cartman household, Stan and Kyle were outside of the bedroom where the captive Damien was sitting. He hadn't put up much of a fight when he realized he couldn't use his magic, it seemed that Damien, like his father, was a bit of a pussy.
"What are we going to do, man?" Kyle asked his best friend, sounding concerned.
"I don't know, dude. I can't believe we fell for his bullshit again. 'A voodoo witch doctor is out to kill me', I mean really."
Kyle ran his hand through his Jewfro and sighed. "I fucking hate that fatass so much. We have to get Damien back to hell, and soon."
"Yeah…wait, where's Kenny?"
"I think he's in the kitchen." Shaking his head, Kyle stared at the wall thoughtfully. "Why does he need Damien anyway?"
Stan shrugged. "I have no fucking idea man. Kenny might know though."
"Yeah. Oi! Kenny!" Kyle yelled down the stairs.
"What?"
"What does Cartman want with Damien?"
"He wants to take over as the Anti-Christ!" Kenny shouted.
"What the hell? Where did he get an idea like that?" Stan said as Kenny came up the stairs, a tray of sandwiches in his hand.
"Some infomercial or something, I don't know dude," Kenny said, sounding exasperated.
"Is that all for you?"
"Well I told Mrs. Cartman it was for all of us, but for the most part year.
Stan and Kyle both snatched a sandwich for themselves, and Kenny opened the door. "I'm sharing with Damien too."
Damien, as it happened, was staring out of Cartman's bedroom window, looking forlorn.
"Here, have some food," he said, handing a sandwich to Damien.
"Why are you doing this?"
"We aren't doing this, dude," Stan said, shutting the bedroom door. "Cartman tricked us to trick you," he added. "We're going to find a way to get you back to hell soon. It's not like Cartman's plan will work anyway…right?"
Damien shrug. "No one's ever tried. But if my father finds out, it's not going to be pretty."
"We know. We're going to try and talk him out of it. But we can't make any promises."
"Right."
They were all waiting for Cartman to come back from whatever he had to do, staring around awkwardly.
"I wonder what's in the DVD player," Kenny said, turning on Cartman's personal TV and hitting the power button on the DVD player perched on top of it. "Dude. No shit he got this idea, he was watching the Nightmare Before Christmas," he said as the menu screen for the aforementioned movie came up.
"Who watches the Nightmare Before Christmas in March?" Kyle asked, looking confused.
"Fucking Cartman," Stan answer, snorting in disbelief.
"I'm home guys," Cartman said, pushing the door open and strolling in, he then stole Kenny's remaining three sandwiches and smiled, looking accomplished.
"This bullshit plan of yours isn't going to work, fatass," Kyle said.
"So up you Goddamn Jew, it's going to fucking work, you're just jealous you didn't think of it first!"
"Why in the fuck would I want to kidnap somebody and become the fucking Anti-Christ, moron?"
"Because being a Jew just isn't cutting it for your greedy fucking Jag-fag self?" Cartman retorted, glaring. "So just shut up and sit down!" he added. "This is going to work and you and your faggy life partner aren't going to fucking ruin it, goddamnit!"
"'Life partner'? What the fuck Cartman? Just because we can have a functioning friendship doesn't make us gay!" Stan said, sounding alarmed.
He looked to Kyle for support but Kyle just shrugged and nodded.
"Look, Satan is going to be pissed when he finds out," Kenny interrupted. "We're going to be in so much trouble. We should really just call this off and let Damien go home," he said.
"No! Shut the fuck up, all of you!"
"Why are we even fucking staying?"
"Because there needs to be someone here at all times to make sure he doesn't make any desperate bids for freedom!" Cartman explained, exasperated and pissed off. "Fucking moron Jew," he muttered loudly.
Kyle finally just slugged Cartman hard in the jaw, and he fell backwards off his bed, the two sandwiches he hadn't gotten around to eating flying up and landing on him. Cartman pulled himself off the floor and launched himself at Kyle, and soon the two were rolling around in the floor, punching and kicking and biting (yes, biting) each other as ferociously as possible.
"Does this happen often?" Damien asked, looking from the two fighting to Stan and Kenny.
They both nodded.
--
"Pope Benedict," the advisor said, looking at the pope nervously. Pope Snowball had, unfortunately, died, and Pope Benedict had taken his place (much to the protests of The Hare Club for Men, but who listened to those crackpots anyway?) and been Pope for the past four years.
"What is it, Ted?" he asked.
"We have information that leads us to believe that…" he said, staring at the pope's feet. "The Anti-Christ has come to Earth."
"Where?"
"In South Park, Colorado," he said quickly. "We're dispatching some people to bring him here." He held up a glossy photograph that depecited Damien, looking very uncharacteristically menacing. "We'll have him taken care of."
"He looks like a teenage boy," the pope said, studying the picture. "Are you sure he's the Anti-Christ?"
"Very sure. We'll keep this quiet, but we won't have him running amok and destroying the world, sir."
"Alright then…"
Ted disappeared through a set of doors, presumably to show Damien's picture to the people he was 'dispatching' to bring Damien to the Vatican.
Meanwhile, in Hell, Satan was checking his mail. He came to the final letter, opened it (expecting another piece of pointless fan mail or something trivial) and read. It was a "ransom style" (with letters cut out of newspapers or magazines) letter that read "Ur sun haz ben kid napped ull never C him agin".
Satan yelled out in anger and immediately made arrangements to go to Earth. He would bring Damien home if he had to destroy the entire Earth (which would be fun).
He would take it to the press, he would threaten the state of the entire world, he would go on talk shows.
He would host a telethon.