"Hmph, screw those guys," the fourth grader grumbled as he surveyed the town through a pair of binoculars. When Cartman decided to betray Coon & Friends and Freedom Pals, after they agreed to join forces, he was demoted to being a lookout man rather than one of the leaders. For now, the obese fourth grader, part time racoon superhero would have to work alone.
"Aye, get off my roof before I turn you into dumrings, kitty!" Tuong Lu Kim yelled.
"I'm not a cat, asshole! I'm "The Coon!" the brunette scoffed. The ten year old resumed looking through his binoculars when he saw a small circle gathering in front of the South Park Mall, several sixth grade boys to be precise.
"Well what do we have myeh?" Cartman wondered aloud before zooming in on the scene. In the middle of the circle was a small, gray cat with its back arched, hissing at its kidnappers and soon to be attackers. The sociopath shook his head in disgust at the scene before him before noticing something about the feline. Its ears, paws, and the tip of its tail was a darker gray from the rest of her body while it had a baby pink nose.
"Mr… Mr. Kitty?" Eric Cartman breathlessly muttered, the binoculars now shaking in his hands from a combination of fear and rage. In a fit of rage, the boy flung the binoculars as far away from him as he could.
"Hay kid! Git off ma roo- AH!" Mr. Kim quickly jumped out of the way when he saw a pair of binoculars flying toward him.
"What the hell! You could have hit me," he angrily scolded before a large child landed on top of him, knocking him over.
"Sorry Mr. Kim! I've got to go!" The Coon apologized from the Chinese man's chest before grabbing his binoculars and bolting for the mall.
"I rearry hate this shitty town," Mr. Kim groaned before passing out. Cartman searched his pant's pocket to find his phone and put it on facetime.
"Kyle!" the raccoon masked hero yelled when a disgruntled Human Kite finally answered his call.
"Can this wait Cartman? We just got down helping the mayor give out environmental surveys. You don't know how angry some guys get when you bring up global warming," the redhead said, remembering Mr. McCormick, Jimbo and Ned.
"Now's not the time, Jew. I really need your guys' help. There's some sixth graders in front of the mall," Cartman wheezed, becoming impatient with the other's boy bellyaching.
"Dude, is fighting sixth graders becoming a regular thing with you? I mean, I let that last time slide, but this is getting ridiculous-"
"They… have… MR. KITTY!" The Coon expressed before hanging up on a confused Human Kite.
"Screw those guys. If you want something done right, do it yourself," the overweight child heaved as he reached the outer edge of the town mall's parking lot and jogged toward the older boys.
"I told you, I'm hitting it first. I'm the one that fourthie attacked," a dark haired sixth grade boy covered in week old bruises argued.
"Yeah right, I'm the one who snuck into his house and grabbed the stupid cat," a taller boy in a brown hoodie rebuttaled. In the midst of their bickering, they failed to notice the cat's owner until it was too late.
"I'm gonna scratch your fucking eyes out!" an enraged Cartman screamed as he lunged at the two boys while the others backed away.
"What-AUGH!" The duo yelped as they felt the boy's long claws slicing into their face, each swipe leaving several thin red lines before blood dripped down their faces. The other sixth graders could do nothing but stare on in horror as they watched the fat fourth grader mawl his victims. During the commotion, a spooked Mr. Kitty made a bee line out of the parking lot and headed home for some chicken pot pie.
"Quit standing around assholes and help us!" The others snapped out of their daze and began assaulting their attacker with bats and rocks. Blow after blow landed on the raccoon superhero's back, sides, face, legs, arms, and stomach. As much as he wanted to act like them hitting him didn't hurt, it did. A lot. After running and attacking two sixth graders, he didn't know how much energy he had left before he would collapse from exhaustion. In his current situation, the boys he was once attacking were now beating on him as well. Cartman fell to his knees and covered his head with his arms. A dark, metallic liquid trickled down his mouth and soaked the front of his shirt.
"Had enough fourthie!?" The previously bruised, now scratched sixth grader ruthlessly taunted as he continued to stomp on the younger boy's back. Even if I manage to save Mr. Kitty, who's going to save me?, the supple boy thought before blacking out, his face hitting the asphalt.
A gust of warm air hit the teen's face as he emerged from the air conditioned mall. In his right hand was a shopping bag containing two black shirts and a new pair of headphones and in his other was his phone.
"Did you manage to book the Airport Hilton for the upcoming Ginger Rally? Why not?" Scott angrily questioned one of his fourth grade ginger secretaries.
"Look, look," the ninth grader pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't care where the venue is held, I just need it by next Thursday." As the younger ginger profusely apologized over the phone, Scott noticed his surroundings for the first time since stepping outside and he saw what seemed to be an Elementary school brawl in the mall's parking lot. A bunch of sixth grade boys were huddled around someone, punching, kicking and screaming. Hmph, what poor bastard pissed off a bunch of sixth graders?, the redhead wondered.
"Ethan, don't you think we're going too far?," Scott heard one of the boys say.
"Not yet!" The emotional pre-teen retorted, continuing to kick the motionless boy, "I want this fat fuck to pay for embarassing me!" Scott felt the blood drain from his face when he heard those dreaded words, knowing only a handful of people could that description. Gathering up the courage, he glanced down at the figure on the ground. A bloodied and bruised brunette fourth grader with a racoon mask and the letter C on his shirt.
"Cartman?" Scott muttered, the name weighing heavy on his lips.
"Head Ginger? Are you there?" a little voice on the phone asked, completely unaware of the murderous rage brewing inside his leader.
"Order everyone in front of the South Park Mall in no more than five minutes" he calmly requested.
"Sir…"
"I'm not asking you, I'll telling you. Make it happen...now," before the ginger subordinate could reply, Scott hung up.
"Okay guys, I think this fourthie has learned his lesson, right?" When nobody responded, the sixth grader glanced to his left and right and noticed that they were looking behind, their faces petrified. Suddenly, he felt a hand grab his shoulder.
"Well, well, what seems to be going on here?" The sixth grader reluctantly craned his neck and came face to face with the notorious leader of the Ginger Separtist Movement, Scott Tenorman.
"Oh hey Scott. We were just taking care of some fourthie scum," the boy gingerly joked before proceeding lightly kicking the Coon.
"I have a question for you, you guys can answer too," Scott addressed the other terrified boys, his voice so sweet it was scary.
"S-sure, what is it?," the sixth grader in the hoodie asked.
"What would you do if you were in my position?"
"Huh," the boys dumbly replied, not quite sure what he meant.
"My apologies, let me rephrase the question. If you were to find a gang of sixth grade bitches," Scott took a step toward them, "beating up your little brother, what would you do?" The sixth graders were left at a loss for words when they noticed a large crowd of gingers was fast approaching, a red sea so to speak.
"Here's the thing boys, there's always a bigger devil and today, you've met yours."
"Wait, Scott. We didn't know…" the boys began to plead, realizing what was about to transpire.
"Shush, shush, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you guys, I just want you to learn your lesson," Scott cooed, scooping his younger brother from the ground into his arms, the army of gingers parted for their current and former leaders.
"Oh, where are my manners?" Scott remarked towards the terrified boys who were now completely surrounded by the creepy smiling faces of his followers. The head ginger snapped his fingers before proceeding to exit the parking lot, hearing the sixth grade bullies' blood curdling screams all the way home.
Well… that was unsettling to say the least. In case you haven't already figured it out, don't mess with anyone with the Tenorman bloodline, you will probably die or worse.
Side note: Scott, like Cartman, is capable of fighting, but it's like, why would they when they can get other people to do it for them?
