Eric Cartman sat in the back corner of the classroom, arms folded and legs stretched out under his desk. He was, as usual, ignoring whatever boring nonsense Mr. Garrison was droning on about. His eyes darted from the chalkboard to the clock, counting down the minutes until recess. His mind wandered, plotting some new way to manipulate Kyle, Stan, and Kenny into doing his dirty work.
Cartman was always scheming, always searching for power. But today, something would fall into his hands that was far beyond anything he'd ever imagined.
It started during lunch. He had just finished bullying Butters into giving him his dessert—yet again—when something strange caught his eye. A small black notebook lay on the grass outside the school building. It was perfectly placed, as if dropped by mistake or left behind by some careless passerby. But who the hell would leave a notebook out here?
His curiosity piqued, Cartman waddled over, making sure no one else was watching. He knelt down and picked it up. The cover was plain and unassuming, except for two words scrawled across the top in bold, white letters: Death Note.
"What the hell is this?" Cartman muttered, flipping it open to the first page. There was writing inside. It said:
"The human whose name is written in this note shall die."
For a moment, Cartman stared at the words, his mind racing. His first instinct was to laugh. This had to be a joke. Some stupid prank to mess with people. But as he read further, a chilling realization set in. The instructions were detailed, specific even. If a person's name was written in the notebook while thinking of their face, they would die in 40 seconds of a heart attack, unless a cause of death was specified. The more he read, the more he felt a creeping sense of excitement.
A notebook that could kill people just by writing their name? Cartman could hardly believe his luck. This was it. This was the power he'd been craving all his life. He'd spent years trying to manipulate people, but this—this was a direct line to ultimate control. He could rid himself of anyone who got in his way.
He shoved the notebook into his jacket and casually walked back inside the school, his mind already buzzing with possibilities. Who would be his first victim?
His thoughts immediately turned to Kyle. That damn Kyle Broflovski, always acting like he was better than everyone else. Kyle, with his self-righteous attitude and constant need to challenge Cartman. He was the perfect candidate. The idea of finally getting rid of him, of never hearing Kyle's whiny voice again, sent a thrill up Cartman's spine.
But no. He had to be smart about this. He couldn't waste his first opportunity on someone so obvious. If Kyle died, Stan and the others would get suspicious. He needed to test the notebook first, make sure it was real. And what better test subject than someone no one would miss?
As if on cue, Cartman's eyes fell on Clyde Donovan, sitting a few tables away. Clyde was a slacker, lazy, always skipping homework and falling asleep in class. Cartman had nothing personal against him, but he was perfect for this little experiment.
Later that afternoon, when Cartman was back in class, the plan formed in his mind. He'd write Clyde's name during recess when no one was around, and wait for the results. Just before the bell rang, he snuck the Death Note out of his jacket and carefully wrote:
"Clyde Donovan – dies of a heart attack in 40 seconds."
He glanced up to make sure no one had noticed. Perfect. Everyone was too busy packing up for recess.
As the minutes ticked by, Cartman felt an odd mixture of anxiety and excitement. What if it didn't work? What if this whole thing was just some elaborate hoax? But deep down, he was hoping—no, believing—that the notebook was real.
Recess came, and Cartman walked outside, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary. He kept a close eye on Clyde, who was hanging around the swings with Craig and Token. Cartman found a spot near the jungle gym where he could watch without being seen.
Seconds ticked by.
Thirty-five. Thirty-six.
Cartman's heart raced. He could feel it—something was about to happen. At the forty-second mark, Clyde suddenly stopped in mid-conversation, his face turning pale. His hand flew to his chest as he stumbled forward, gasping for air.
"Whoa, dude, you okay?" Craig asked, stepping back in shock.
Clyde let out a choked sound, his eyes wide with terror. Then, without another word, he collapsed onto the ground. A few kids screamed. Teachers rushed over, but it was too late. Clyde Donovan was dead.
Cartman stared in disbelief. It worked. The Death Note was real.
A slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
"Oh my God," he whispered to himself, "I am unstoppable."
And with that, Eric Cartman realized he had the power to reshape South Park—and the world—exactly how he wanted.