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Chapter Text

If someone were given the opportunity of a lifetime from the person they hated the most, would they accept? This was the question Eric Cartman was faced with one Saturday morning when he got a knock on his front door. The brunette remembered it was a Saturday morning like any other, he was downstairs eating Cheesy Poofs in his signature bear pajamas while watching The Terrance and Phillip Show .

Phillip: Lately Terrance, it appears you have a stick up your ass.

Terrance: No I don’t Phillip, see? (Fart noise)

Terrance and Phillip: Ha ha ha ha

“Ha, sweet dude” commented the overweight sociopath as he munched on a handful of poofs. The noise from the program was interrupted, however, when he heard a loud knock from the door. 

“Eric, sweetie, can you get the door?” Liane Cartman, South Park’s notorious whore and Eric Cartman’s mother, called from the kitchen. 

“Whatever Myem,” replied an annoyed Cartman as he begrudgingly got off the couch and answered the front door. When he opened the front door, however, he laid his eyes upon the last person that he would ever expect to see. In front of him was an average built teen in a black t-shirt and orange pants, sporting braces, freckles, and red hair that the fourth grader loathed. 

“Hello brother, remember me?” Cartman’s eyes widened in surprise and horror when he glanced up at Scott Tenorman, his sworn enemy and older half-brother. The younger boy quickly changed his face to mask his fear and replaced it with annoyance.

“What the fuck are you doing here Tenorman and how did you find me anyway?”

“I’m insulted” Scott expressed in a dramatic tone as both his hands grasped his chest. “Can’t a boy visit his little brother without being accused of wanting something in return?” The overweight boy stared at the teen with that “yeah right” look before Scott quickly gave in and admitted that he had his ginger scouts locate him.

“That still doesn’t answer my question asshole, so let me repeat this again so your pussy ginger brain can understand it. What the fuck are you doing here?,” the latter part of the sentence being painfully drawn out as the ten year old evil genius was becoming more and more pissed off as this conversation drew on. Scott leaned against the doorframe and sighed before he revealed his true intentions for visiting him.  

“Look, I have a deal for you and your mom that you won’t want to turn down. An agreement that would benefit both of us. Ever since my parents’ demise, I have been in and out of the mental institution and foster and frankly, both of them suck ass. I mean seriously, do you know how hard it is to get adopted when you're fifteen, have mental issues, and a ginger?” 

“Can’t argue with you there,” Cartman agreed as he thought about the countless couples that must have overlooked Scott for younger and not creepy ginger kids.

“Anyways,” the teen carried on as he rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest, “the point is, I don’t want to go through that anymore and I would prefer just to live with you until I’m eighteen.”

“WHAT,” Eric exclaimed in utter disgust. “Now I know you’ve lost your mind ginger,” the younger boy fummed as he raised an accusing pointed finger at his nemesis. “What the HELL makes you think I would ever agree to let you live with me?” The redhead, seeming unfazed by the ten year old, glanced down at his sworn enemy and gave a simple reply.

“Money.”

“Huh,” Cartman responded, obviously confused.

“You heard me, money. When my parents died, I was left with an inheritance. Now, my mom was a stay at home wife so she didn’t have much other than her life insurance, but our father played for the Denver Broncos making thousands of dollars annually along with the pension he received after he retired. I can’t access the money until I turn eighteen, so currently, I am locked out of my own inheritance. If you let me live with you until I can access this money, I will give you and your mom half of it.” Cartman stood in utter bewilderment as he processed everything that the teen had laid on him before he quickly snapped out of it.

“Oh yeah, how do I know you’re not going to take off once you turn eighteen and leave me with nothing?” Cartman had learned from their first encounter to take everything that his older brother said with a grain of salt.

“If my word is not good enough for you, we can sign some paperwork making it official. However, the agreement is I have to live with you until I’m eighteen, otherwise the deal is off.” Cartman looked down at the ground and rubbed his chin when a thought struck him.

“If Jack Tenorman was my father, aren’t I entitled to half of his inheritance anyways?” The older boy simply gave a mean spirited laugh in response to the naive boy’s assumption.

“I hate to break it to you, bro, but you aren’t entitled to shit. Your name is nowhere in the will and there are no legal documents that even acknowledge that you are Jack Tenorman’s son. Hell, Dad didn’t even know you were his son when he was alive. Face it, you’re an illegitimate bastard whose best claim to the will is a DNA test and even then the courts would turn you down since legally everything was left to me.” The two stood in silence as everything sank in. Should I let him live with me? I mean, it’s less than three years and I would get millions of dollars in return. But that asshole might be lying to me, this could all be a coverup just to get revenge on my mom and I or worse, he could just make my life a living hell until I eventually give up before the deadline and he keeps the money all for himself! In the midst of his thoughts, Cartman looked at Scott Tenorman who casually hummed and gave him an innocent smile.

“You would have to talk to my myem about this living situation,” Cartman weakly responded after careful consideration.

“Of course, little brother” the teen politely replied.

“And there would also have to be some rules about you living with us.”

“Absolutely”

“We also have a cat-”

“Not a problem.” The two boys stared at each other for an unknown amount of time before Cartman invited his brother inside. This was how the two most evil boys in South Park and probably the world came to reside under the same roof.  

Chapter Text

“You can’t be fucking serious dude,” a wide eyed ten year old expressed to a visibly irritated Eric Cartman. 

In response, the heavy set boy let out an irritated sigh as the bitchy ginger, Kyle, and the rest of his “friends” reacted to his encounter with his brother and the fact that he would be living with him. Cartman knew that his friends were not going to take the news well, but he expected them to at least understand why he was doing it.  

“Yeah, well I am serious Kahl, and there’s nothing that you or anyone else can say to change my mind,” the brunette buckled down as he tapped his pointer finger on the lunch room table. “I’m going to get half of that inheritance, even if it means putting up with Scott Tenorman, the world’s biggest douchebag!”

“Dude, this sounds really dangerous and that’s a lot coming from me” Kenny commented, South Park’s immortal fourth grader.

“Yeah dude, I’m going to have to agree with Kenny and Kyle on this one-” 

“Hey fellers, what’s going on?” The boys turned and saw the voice had come from the blonde fourth grader, Leopold Stotch, but everyone called him something else.

“Hey Butters, Cartman was telling us that he let Scott Tenorman move into his house,” Kyle informed Butters as he angrily glared at Cartman for his stupidity and greed, the latter crossing his arms in defiance.

“He’s Cartman’s brother,” Kenny chimed in, striking a cord with the boy.

“HALF-brother, we only have the same dad, God,” Eric huffed out in anger.

“Scott Tenorman is your brother? The ninth grader? Isn’t he like, crazy and really scary? Why is he living with you?,” Butters nervously asked in that voice that pissed Cartman off to no end. 

“First of all Butters, Scott Tenorman is not scary, he’s just a huge asshole. Secondly, I’m not a scared little pussy like you… and Kyle,” the mention of the ginger’s name earning Cartman the middle finger from him. “I’ve faced Scott before and I can do it again.”

“Dude, listen to me,” Stan said in a concerned tone, “while Shelly may be a huge bitch to me and she’s strong as hell, there’s no way I would trade her for Scott Tenorman, and I didn’t even kill his parents!” The last part being emphasized by the dark haired boy throwing his hands up for dramatic effect. While admittedly, scary images of the mental headgear girl filled Cartman’s mind, he shook them off and a grimace took over his face. Why don’t they understand that the inheritance is more than just about money?

“I don’t know why I bothered telling you guys, I knew you wouldn’t understand,” the fourth grader said, getting up from the table and throwing his lunch away, no longer hungry. 

“What the fuck is wrong with Cartman?,” Kenny muttered under his orange parka.

“I’ve been wondering that since I first met him,” Kyle scoffed as he and the rest of them continued eating their lunches.

The rest of the day was spent in silence for the ten year old, feeling disheartened by his current situation. The boy avoided his friends and answering questions in class and walked home once school was finally over, taking his time as he was in no rush to get home. When Cartman finally reached the front door to his house, he cautiously opened the door and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Scott’s not here , the obese boy thought as he walked over to the couch and turned on the t.v. Lazily, he scrolled through the channels and settled on a lame movie that was showing a girl with magic powers.

“When a person is being bad, they need to be punished,” the stereotypical abusive movie father said to his daughter as he shoved her into her bedroom.

This sucks. I should go get some food , Cartman thought as he got up from the couch and headed over to the kitchen. As he was passing by the door to the basement, he heard a muffled voice that vaguely resembled Scott’s.

Hmmph, Scott must be home , Eric guessed as he silently changed his mind from previously wanting food to now wanting to hear what Scott was saying. The boy’s curiosity led him to creaking open the door and closing it behind him as he took a couple steps before he could clearly hear his brother without seeing him. 

“I know man, isn’t great,” the ginger teen’s voice echoed in the Cartmans’ basement while an unknown person could not be heard, the boy guessed that he must have been on his phone. The brunette continued to listen in on the conversation. “I’m living in this stupid asshole’s basement rent free and all I have to do is give him and his whore mom some money when I turn eighteen. Knowing him, he’ll probably blow threw the money in a month or he’ll waste it on some stupid scam, but hey, it’s no skin off my back!”

The teen continued laughing, unknowingly being watched by a severely pissed off child sociopath, his face turning red as he grit his teeth. He let him live in HIS HOUSE and this is how Scott talked about him and his mom behind their backs! The heavy set ten year old walked back up the steps and exited the basement, the anger radiating all over his body like heat waves. I will get you back Tenorman, just you wait , Cartman thought as he sat back down at the t.v. and saw the little girl’s father walking out to his family with the son and the wife looking shocked and the girl smugly smiling. The father’s previously dark hair was now a dark blonde and the man fell over when he saw himself in the mirror. This gave Cartman an idea.  

Chapter Text

The event that came to be known as the “Dye Incident” occurred early one Tuesday morning as Scott Tenorman was getting ready for school. While the rest of the household was still fast asleep, South Park’s high school began an hour earlier than the elementary school. As a result, the teen woke up before Cartman and his mom and got in the shower. As the hot water hit him, he ran his hands through his hair quickly to make sure it was wet before he grabbed his shampoo bottle. Thoughtlessly, he squeezed a fair amount in his hands and rubbed it into his roots before running his fingers through the strands until his thick red hair was covered in suds. 

“God it’s so fucking early,” the teen grumbled as he grabbed his razor and quickly shaved under his arms.

When he starred below his waistline, he chuckled to himself, remembering how his stupid brother had bought pubes from him. I still can’t believe my brother is smart enough to kill my parents and get away with it, but too much of a retard to know how pubes work. This thought was briefly interrupted when he felt a slight stinging sensation coming from his scalp which after a minute or two evolved into a burning pain. Scott quickly washed the suds off to alleviate the pain and felt much better though he was still confused about what he had just experienced. Unaware that anything was majorly wrong, he turned off the water and stepped out of the tub to dry off his hair in the steamy room before getting dressed and getting on the bus.

Scott was relieved when he finally got off the bus. Everyone had been giving him weird looks, ranging from shocked to confused, some kids sitting behind him whispered and even began snickering at him. The agitated boy made sure to put a stop to that when he turned around and gave them his most menacing glare and said, “if you gaywads have something to say, I suggest you say it now.” The two freshmen shook their heads and were quiet after that. The redhead got enough shit from everyone gossiping about him being an orphan and having gone to a mental institution, he wasn’t about to put up with people literally laughing behind his back! After stepping off the world’s longest bus ride, the teen spotted his two partners in crime and walked over to them to greet them.  

“Hey guys,” Scott called to two other ninth graders reading Monster Truck magazines, one a brunette wearing a blue hat and the other a fellow ginger in a red hoodie. Recently, he had gotten back in touch with them after months of being institutionalized and held up in foster care. They were nervous about hanging out with him at first, but after a while, they were back to the way they were before the dreaded “Chili Con Carnival.” When the teens heard their friend’s call, they diverted their eyes up to their ring leader before lowering their magazines to reveal their shocked expressions.

“Uh, hey Scott. What’s going on with you? How is life with the little piggy?” Tyler, the brunette, asked, deciding to refer to the conversation he and Scott had over the phone rather than address the elephant in the room.

“It’s fine, I guess, although all those douchebags on the bus were staring at me,” Scott said, raising his voice and pointing to the bus. After taking a deep breath like the doctors taught him at the mental hospitals, he decided to change the subject. “As for life with fatass and his mom, it’s been fairly decent. To be honest, I’m actually surprised he hasn’t tried anything on me. I guess the promise of money was enough to get the greedy bastard to behave,” Scott deviously smiled. The duo stared at their comrade and then at each other before the other boy, Aaron, decided to state the obvious.

“Dude, have you seen your hair today?,” Aaron asked, trying to tread lightly around the other teen. In response to this question, the ninth grader scrunched up his face and was about to ask what the hell he was talking about when he remembered all the stares he got on the bus and more importantly, the shampoo . Scott frantically reached into his pant’s pocket and hurriedly turned on his phone. 

“Come on, come on,” Scott pleaded to whoever would listen, whether that be his friends, his dead parents, or God as he hit his phone’s camera app and switched it to face him. When he appeared on the screen, his face contorted into horror, all his strength leaving his body. The teen’s normally auburn hair, the same color as his father’s, looked like it had gone through a D.I.Y. bleach session. Some sections of his hair were copper while others were closer to being dark blonde. The phone slipped out of Scott’s hand and hit the ground while his friends stared at him with concern. 

“Scott, are you okay?” Those were the last words he heard before proceeding to lose his shit.      

When Scott Tenorman got home, he angrily paced back and forth, thinking about all the ways he could kick his brother’s ass.

It was bad enough that everyone outside had witnessed him losing his mind, he could only imagine how they saw him, some crazy guy with bleached hair randomly screaming “I’m going to kill that fat son of a bitch” and “that motherfucker,” he had proceeded to make himself look like a bigger idiot. After he had discovered the truth about his hair, he had begged Tyler to let him borrow his hat for the rest of the day. The hat had done nothing to conceal his embarrassing situation as it was too small to hide his thick curly hair, on top of it being a dyed mess. Every second that he sat in class with everyone staring at him, the more pissed off he grew, his anger even rivaling that of his brother’s when he burned his money in front of him.

When I see that fat fuck, I’m gonna choke the shit out of him. I’m gonna tie him up, hang him by a rope, and beat him like a bloated pinata and see what falls out. This kid must have balls of steel if he thinks he can fuck up my hair and embarass me and not expect me to do something.

In the midst of his rage feast, Scott stopped for a moment and realized something. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just kick his brother’s ass or beat him black and blue. That slut would just take his side and kick me out of the house, regardless of how much money I promise them . In his moment of clarity, he came to the conclusion that he had to be careful about what he could and could not do. After a minute or two, he sat down on the Cartmans’ green couch and thought for the next hour about his plan of attack.

“Dude, I poured peroxide into his shampoo and now his hair is probably blonde! What a fucking dumbass! I mean, seriously, who talks shit about someone in their own house?,” Eric maliciously laughed as he walked with his friends off the bus.

“Uh, you do fatass. Like, all the time,” Kyle commented, rolling his eyes at his frennemy’s petty, hypocritical nature.

“Ugh, whatever Kahl. Why do you have to be such a negative nancy all the time? Is it your time of the month?,” the boy smugly retorted as the other two boys began to laugh.

“Whatever dude, I hope Scott kicks your ass once he sees you,” Kyle angrily replied.

“Oh will you relax,” Cartman sighed, “I’m just having a little bit of fun. Besides, as long as he is living with me, Tenorman can’t touch me,” the overweight boy tried to reassure his friends, including himself. While he knew that Scott wouldn’t touch him if he wanted to keep living with him, he knew that he could get him back in other ways, his past actions have proven that true. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude,” Kyle commented as Cartman split from the group and walked towards his door. 

“Hey Kyle, should we go in with him?,” the dark haired boy wondered as he turned to him. 

“Dude, I hate being in the same room with Cartman. Why would I want to be in one with him and his brother when shit hits the fan?,” the young Jew replied.

“Hmph, good point.”   

Chapter Text

It had been three days since the sociopathic fourth grader had poured peroxide into Scott Tenorman’s shampoo and since then he had not seen nor heard from the teen. Cartman didn’t like that. For anyone else, this might be an indication that Scott had let the incident go, but not Cartman. As someone well versed in chaos and revenge, he knew that his older half- brother had something in store for him, he just didn’t know what. The ten year had been cautious to check his food, lock his room, and hide his belongings from Scott. He knew he was going to get his revenge, he just didn’t know when and how. This changed, however, on friday morning, when Cartman woke up and, like his brother, took a shower. Now, unlike most mornings, his mom had already left for work and luckily for him, Scott had already left for school, so it was just him and Mr. Kitty. This made the heavy set boy relaxed as he didn’t have to worry about encountering the ginger despite not seeing him in a few days.

When Cartman knew that the coast was clear, he walked into the bathroom with his shampoo and conditioner and turned on the hot water. Since he didn’t trust Scott not to tamper with his stuff, he had kept it hidden under his bed since he had committed his dirty deed. Like any other day, the brunette washed his hair with both bottles and then mindlessly picked up a blue bottle of body wash. It was still early in the morning, so Cartman didn’t pay much attention as he poured a large amount in his hands to cover the large surface area that was his skin. He rubbed his hands together and then rubbed his arms, legs, stomach, back and then finally his face before waiting for the water to wash it off. When the child regained his vision, he noticed that his hands were stained light blue, the same color as the body wash along with the rest of his body. Huh, that’s weird , the fourth grader thought as he took a loofah sponge and attempted to scrub the stuff off his skin.

“What the… it’s not coming off,” Cartman anxiously voiced as he continued to scrub his arms, legs, and even his face until they stung, but nothing helped. Cartman’s whole body was blue. The obese boy aggressively grabbed the body wash that he had used and upon further inspection realized that there was a crudely drawn label on the bottle reading “Full Body Moisturizer” and peeling it off, it read “Night Time Blue Body Paint.” Cartman’s mouth dropped in shock before pure rage took over, a mixture of anger at himself for neglecting to think about body wash, but mostly he was pissed at one person. “SCOTT TENORMAN, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” 

The walk to the bus stop was an agonizing one for Cartman with a yellow scarf wrapped around his usually uncovered face, dreading the inevitable teasing that would come from his friends. 

“Hey fatass,” the ginger said, giving his customary greeting to his long time frenemy. When the overweight boy didn’t respond with his usual defensive claim that he wasn’t fat, but “big-boned” or angrily called him a “jew,” all the boys stared at Cartman and realized something was wrong with his face.

“Look, I know what you’re all thinking, but I’m going to ask you to just drop it, okay?,” Cartman stressed.

“Dude, what’s wrong with your face,” Kenny inquired while pointing at Cartman.

“Ugh, why the fuck do I even bother?,” the brunette openly expressed. Seeing there was no reason to bother covering his face, the fourth grader pulled down his scarf to reveal his blue face. A few seconds of silence passed before the other three boys erupted into laughter, Kyle’s being the worst as tears filled his eyes. Cartman’s face felt warm and had it not been blue, it would be pink from anger and humiliation. “Aha, Cartman’s blue, very mature you guys,” Eric sarcastically stated, trying to act unbothered about the situation.

“Dude,” Stan snickered, “we told you he was going to get you back.” The trio continued laughing until the bus came to pick them up.

“Jeez Eric, what happened to you?” Cartman huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose in response to Butters question. Currently, the two of them along with the rest of the school were sitting in the auditorium along with the rest of South Park Elementary. As a reward for them completing state standardized testing, they got to watch Coco . According to PC Principal, they needed to be exposed to “films with a protagonist of color and diverse casts,” a statement which made Cartman roll his eyes, but not dare to argue with him.    

“Scott replaced my body wash with blue body paint,” Cartman dryly responded.

“Oh,” Leopold responded before cocking his head up in realization, “wouldn’t you be able to see that it was blue-”

“I thought it was the color of the fucking body wash, ugh!” Eric Cartman leaned back in his bleacher seat and put his head in his hands. Could this day get any worse? First I become a human smurf and now I get stuck sitting next to Butters of all people! I mean seriously, I might as well get struck by lightning again. At least that would be less painful than having to sit here with all these dipshits.

“Quiet down everyone, the movie is about to start, m’kay,” the airhead Mr. Mackey said before turning off the lights. This is when things went from bad to fucking horrendous. As soon as the lights slowly dimmed, chuckles began around Cartman and Butters. 

“What the hell are they laughing at, they can’t even see me,” Cartman wondered aloud as Butters nervously stared at him, “what?” 

“Eric… I think you’re glowing,” Butters quietly responded, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

“Huh, what are you talking about-,” Butters pulled off one of Cartman’s mittens to show him his glowing blue hand. The obese boy stared in disbelief at his hand before an epiphany hit him about the bodywash label, it had read “ Night Time Blue Body Paint.” While this was going on, news about the glow in the dark kid had spread and the majority of the auditorium was staring at him, some curious, some surprised, and most laughing at his expense. If Cartman’s face had been pink before, his face was now dark red. This new development to his already crappy situation was the last straw for him.

“You know what, screw you guys! I’m going home,” Cartman loudly proclaimed as he walked down the steps and out the back door.

Scott sat on the worn couch, disinterestedly flipping through channels before he heard the front door slam open. The teen straightened up in surprise and glanced over at his evidently pissed off brother, ripping off his scarf and his coat.

“You’re home early today, little brother. I don’t remember the school calling the house,” Scott naively commented.

“Oh you know, it was typical day, except I’M FUCKING BLUE!” Cartman shouted, no longer in the mood for his brother’s coy act.

“Hmph,” Scott responded in a faux perplexed manner, his thumb and index finger stroking his chin. “Well, that’s a surprise. I guess it must be the same shampoo brand responsible for my hair getting bleached, I tell you, somebody has to put a stop-”

“Whatever, Scott,” Cartman interrupted, not in the mood for Scott’s lies or excuses, “at least your new look is an improvement to your disgusting hair. Now your gingivitis isn’t as obvious as it was before,” Cartman smugly retorted. Scott’s poker face slipped off upon hearing those words, his expression quickly contorting into one that more closely resembled his true feelings. It was a look that would scare any of the sixth graders, let alone all of the fourth grade combined. 

“Gingivitis is a gum disease, not the reason my hair is red, you fucking dumbass,” Scott snapped, deciding to no longer hold back. “Red hair is a recessive gene like blue eyes and freckles,” he said, standing up from the couch, strolling over to Cartman. “Something that you did not inherit from our father, just like his muscular physique,” pointing at the boy’s stomach, “his money, and definitely not his love.” At that point, the ninth grader towered over the intimidated ten year old.

The younger boy was at a loss for words, a rare occasion for him. In that moment, the feeling from before had returned, the same one he had experienced at the bus stop and the auditorium. The feeling wasn’t something he was accustomed to such as anger or annoyance, he could handle those. Instead, it was a combination of embarrassment and sadness because everything Scott had said about him was true. While Scott had everything from their father, Cartman had nothing. The closest name he could give this emotion was pure torture. As the words sank in, a burning pain began to form in his heart and a lump in his throat. While everyone else had made him want to scream, Scott made him want to cry, something he would never let him get the satisfaction of seeing. Slowly, the brunette took a deep breath and looked Scott in the eye before making one final statement.

“Whatever you say, you gingers are all the same anyway.” Cartman grabbed his scarf and coat and silently walked up the stairs to his room, putting more distance between him and his brother than there was before.            

Chapter Text

Eric Cartman grumbled as he trudged through the newly fallen snow from the night before. It was a quarter past nine a.m. on Saturday morning and the overweight boy was walking to meet his friends at the theater to see the new Terrance and Phillip movie. The fourth grader suspected that inviting him to the movies was his “friends” way of apologizing to him about what happened yesterday, like they were actually sorry. Cartman rolled his eyes thinking about the three jerks he always hung out with despite them all hating him and him feeling the same way. 

“I can’t believe I missed breakfast to go hang out with these assholes,” the boy thought aloud as he heard his stomach emitting noises like it was trying to talk to him. 

“I guess I’ll just eat some popcorn when I get there … and some candy… and maybe a large diet soda,” the obeses child debated. If he was going to eat a lot of junk food, he might as well try to drink something “healthy.” All this thinking about food was making him hungrier. 

“Ugh,” Cartman sighed as he tried to keep his mind off of food by focusing on the sound of snow crunching underneath his boots, a sound that he was more than familiar with from living in South Park all his life. The sounds, however, did not keep his mind from wandering and he was soon playing back all events from that week that made it one of if not the “shittiest week of his life.”

First, his arch nemesis and older half brother, Scott Tenorman, moved in with him, then he proceeded to embarrass him by not only bad mouthing him and his mom, but replacing his body wash for glow in the dark body paint, the latter of which he spent three hours soaking in a tub trying to get the stuff off his skin! The cherry on top of his crappy sundae, however, would have had to have been when Scott compared him to their father. Everything he had said, the words swirling around in his head ever since. It had first started when Cartman was staring at his thick arms and legs in the bathtub, wondering why he hadn’t inherited his father’s “muscular physique” as his brother put it. 

“Why did I have to be so fat- I mean big boned,” the ten year old said, quickly fixing his mistake before anyone overheard. Luckly, few people were walking around this early on a Saturday morning, most still sleeping or eating breakfast with their families, so the child relaxed. That remark, however, only hit the surface compared to everything else Scott had said. Something that you did not inherit from our father, just like his muscular physique, his money, and definitely not his love , the last words causing the sociopath to form a lump in his throat similarly to when he first heard them. The brunette took a few deep breaths in an attempt to make it go away, but then he felt his eyes beginning to burn.  

“Ah goddamnit,” Cartman cursed, thinking that snow flew into his eyes, resulting in him furiously rubbing his stinging eyes. 

“Hey fatass, what’re you crying about?!”

Cartman quit rubbing his eyes and turned to his left to see some dark haired sixth grader sitting on a blue bench. 

“I’m not crying douchebag,” Cartman retorted, “I just got some snow in my eyes, that’s all.” Cartman knew it wasn’t wise for him to mouth off to sixth graders, but he just wasn’t in the mood to put up with anybody’s shit.  

The short sixth grader smirked at him as he stood up from the bench with his hands in his green jacket, “Yeah right fourthie, I saw you stop walking and before I knew it you were weeping like a bitch.” 

The fourth grader, out of curiosity, felt his wet face and tasted the salty liquid before he realized the older boy was right. He was crying. The Eric Cartman was crying over some stupid remark made by someone that he hated, this should not be happening. 

“You know, I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, but I heard about what happened at the auditorium, blue boy,” the sixth grade boy sneered at the stunned boy. Cartman snapped out of his shock and rolled his eyes because despite how long he sat in the tub and scrubbed, his skin still had a light blue tinge. Ugh, I spent all day yesterday putting up with this crap from everyone at school and now I have to spend my weekend getting shit from a nobody sixth grader. No, not today, Cartman had a movie to go see and snacks to eat.

“Look, I got better things to do today than be bothered by some dude who clearly has nothing going on in his life and has to pick on younger kids to make himself feel better,” Cartman replied as he began to walk away from the visibly irritated pre-teen. The other sixth graders had been giving him a hard time for not messing with enough fourthies and that was hurting his reputation as a sixth grader bruiser. There had to be something he could do to get this kid to cry or to take his money or to beat him up, hopefully all three. What did Josh say about this guy, oh right!  

“Oh yeah,” the sixth grader called after him, “at least my mom’s not a slut.” The only answer the twelve year old caught in return was a bored “whatever,” Cartman had heard that insult almost as many times as he had about his weight. Think harder Ethan, what else did Josh say about this kid. The dark haired boy thought for a few seconds and then he had a massive epiphany. This was going to be bad.

“Well, at least my dad is in my life,” this comment stopped Cartman in his tracks.

“It must be hard enough knowing that your mom’s the town whore, but to not even know who your father is,” the sixth grader shook his head in fake sympathy as Cartman walked back over to him.

“What the hell do you know about my father,” the sociopath rhetorically asked, venom dripping from his words. Painful emotions threatened to pull the brunette back into a dark place, back to when he was a sobbing five year old on Father’s Day because everyone at school had a father, everyone except him. He would make him pay for making him feel so small.   

“Poor little fourthie, never knowing the love of a father,” the sixth grader said only three feet away from the other boy. He had enough.

“You poor little bast- ugh,” the sixth grader yelped as two yellow gloves were thrown at his face.

“Huh, is that you got fourthie-,” but the sixth grader’s taunt was cut short because before he knew it, he heard an enraged scream and felt himself being tackled to the ground. The dark haired being knocked flat onto his back while the obese boy straddled. 

“What the hell, get off me,” the older boy screamed as he tried to push the fourth grader off him, but unfortunately for him, he messed with the only fourth grader who weighed roughly the same that he did. 

“Fuck you, don’t ever talk about my dad, you motherfucker!” Cartman took his right leg and pinned the older boy’s left arm under it and used his left hand to grab the other kid’s right arm before proceeding to repeatedly punch the sixth grader in the face with his right hand. All the pain the obese boy had ever felt, about his father, his body, his mom being known as a “slut,” and Scott Tenorman, was released as he repeatedly punched the shit out of the sixth grader.

“Where the hell is fatass, I’m going to miss the movie,” Kyle groaned against the side of the movie theater.

It was bad enough that he was waiting for Cartman, but he was the only one that would be seeing the movie with him. Stan had canceled last minute because he had to help his dad on the farm and Kenny couldn’t make it because he was killed in a hit and run on his way to the theater… again. The Jew looked back down at his wrist watch to see that it was now 9:20, the movie was supposed to start in ten minutes.

Hmph, this is unusual even for Cartman , Kyle thought as he impatiently waited for his frenemy to arrive. While Kyle knew that it was normal for Cartman to be late because of his weight and due to the fact he was an inconsiderate ass, even he wouldn’t be late for a Terrance and Phillip movie. This analysis of the situation led the daywalker to the conclusion that he should start walking in the direction of Cartman’s house to see if he could find him before the movie started. I mean, he might have gotten into it with Scott again and wasn’t able to leave the house , Kyle anxiously wondered. Even though he would never admit, he was becoming increasingly concerned about Cartman living with Scott. The whole week his Cartman had been spacing off and switching between paranoid and irritated. Even last night when he had invited Cartman on the phone last night to go to the movies, he didn’t sound annoyed, but sad. 

“Ow, somebody help me!”

Kyle quickly snapped out of his thoughts and saw a peculiar sight. Several feet in front of him in the snow, a large boy was punching another boy in a green jacket. The daywalker immediately realized that not only were the duo Cartman and one of the sixth graders from their school, but that Cartman was kicking the sixth grader’s ass! 

“Who’s crying now pussy!” Cartman screamed while the other boy desperately tried to grab his hair, but only managed to yank his hat off. It was then the sociopath decided to stop punching him and instead grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it down the other boy’s pants.

“CARTMAN!” Kyle yelled and ran over to his “friend.” The obese boy, who was so absorbed in his rage, barely noticed when two arms reached under his arm pits and yank him off the sixth grader. When the brunette had stopped to notice the change of events, he turned his head around and saw Kyle, who looked more shaken than he did despite being in a fist fight.

“Kahl?”

“Cartman, why the hell were you beating up a sixth grader,” Kyle exclaimed in the same bitchy tone that reminded Cartman of Kyle’s big, fat, bitch mom, Shelia. This is what made Cartman hate Kyle, that and being a Jewish ginger from Jersey. 

“Well he started it,” Cartman defended himself to his lifelong adversary. Meanwhile, the sixth grader caught up from the ground and gasped for air, something he could not do before with the incredibly heavy fourth grader sitting on his chest. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth while his face felt sore, he knew it was going to bruise badly. The black haired boy stared at his attacker who only had scratch marks on his face and the other fourth grader who was yelling at him. The sixth grader male stood up, wiped the blood off his nose, and cleared his throat to get the other kids attention.

“You better hope I never see you again, fourthie, because next time it won’t just be me,” the older boy warned before walking away with his nose in his hand. The two ten year olds stood in silence before Cartman turned to Kyle.

“Look, I’m sorry I made you late for the movie. If you go now, you can get there before the previews end,” the brunette said before proceeding to pick up his yellow gloves and signature hat. 

“What, no dude, I’m not leaving before you give me an explanation for what the hell just happened!” Kyle stood in an aggravated stance with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for the other boy to give him an explanation. Cartman, however, simply picked up his things and began to leave.

“Cartman! Eric! I’m talking to you! Why won’t you answer me!” Kyle demanded, walking behind Cartman. 

“Cartman,” Kyle grabbed his arm and pulled him to face him, his anger evaporating as quickly as steam when he saw the tears on Cartman’s face. 

“Kahl, could you just believe me for once when I say I did what I did for a good reason?” In that moment, the usually unbearable know it all, moral compass that was Kyle Broflovski fell silent, he was not used to seeing Cartman cry real tears. Tantrum tears, yes, cowardice tears, definitely, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him cry real tears of sadness. This made it impossible for him to deny the boy his simple request.

“Yeah, sure dude,” Kyle agreed and both boys proceeded to walk back to Cartman’s house, forgetting about the movie.

Chapter Text

Well, it was official, whatever concerns Kyle had concerning Cartman had increased by tenfold. This was something that even he did not know was possible. Simply explained, for as long as the Jewish fourth grader had known the racist, sadistic, self centered tub of lard known as Eric Cartman, there was always an underlying sense of caution, something only natural when one knows the things the sociopath was capable of committing. This natural sense of wariness, however, paled in comparison to how Kyle felt after witnessing the brunette’s outburst and was now walking alongside him in silence.

While the redhead was accustomed to seeing the confident, loud mouth, shit eating grin of his frenemy, he couldn’t remember ever seeing the boy cry real tears. If a boy who was vindictive enough to pour Arby’s Horsey sauce on Mr. Mackey’s cupcake for literally throwing him under a bus and sadistic enough to watch Butters get beaten by his parents because of him, what was it that made him this… fragile? These thoughts ran through Kyle Broflovski’s mind as he would alternate between looking forward and nervously glancing at a silent Cartman. The two of them hanging out together without anything being exchanged, whether it be insults or dirty looks, was rare. Was Cartman crying before he fought that sixth grader and if so, what was he crying about? It must have something to do with Scott Tenorman, he’s being acting weird ever since-” 

“Hey Kahl.” 

The redhead snapped out of his thoughts and jerked his head to the left, surprised that the boy had decided to speak to him.

“Does it ever… never mind,” the obese boy uttered, forcing his question to retreat into the back of his mind along with everything else he kept buried there.

“What is it Cartman?” Kyle looked at him as the latter kept staring straight ahead, trying to avoid the other’s pleading glance. 

“It’s stupid… and gay,” Cartman begrudgingly replied.

Kyle’s jaw fell slightly open and he cocked his eyebrow at him. Is he fucking serious?

“Dude, I don’t care if it’s stupid and gay,” Kyle remarked as he grab the other boy’s should to stop him. “It’s better to say something stupid and gay for a few minutes than to keep everything bottled up inside you until you explode like you did back there.” The sociopath gave his long time nemesis a glare for bringing up that fight instead of letting it go, not that he was surprised as it was typical for his kind .

“Fine, I wanted to ask if it ever bothered you that you don’t look more like your dad?”

Kyle’s eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and confusion at the boy’s seemingly absurd question before a chuckle escaped his lips.

“Huh, are you kidding me dude? I wished I looked less like him,” the ten year old sarcastically snickered at his cohort’s inquiry. Kyle remembered the unsettling memory of him sitting with his parents at the dinner table when his mom told him he looked like his father, but he had her nose.

“With the exception of my hair and nose, I’ll probably grow up to look like my dad,” Kyle cynically thought aloud in between snickers, hardly noticing when Cartman continued to walk away. It was only when the red head stopped to peer to his left that he realized his peer was no longer next to him, but instead several feet away. 

“Cartman!” The Jew ran to catch up behind the stone faced boy, this not being difficult considering who was being discussed. 

“Cartman, what the hell is going on with you fatass,” Kyle asked, becoming increasingly more vexed by the minute?

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. I don’t know why I thought you would,” the brunette said, his words directed at Kyle, but it felt like he was talking more to himself.

“Understand what? Tell me what is going on with you and then I will understand.”

Cartman stopped in his tracks with a blank expression on his face, causing Kyle to abruptly halt. 

“No, you wouldn’t,” he scoffed, his body turned to face Kyle with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth fixed in a sneer.

“You will never understand what it is like to wake up every morning and wonder who your father is,” he emphasized with his finger pointed directly at the boy.  

“You will never understand what it is like to celebrate every major occasion, birthdays, graduations, getting married, and becoming a dad yourself without your father. You will never know what it is like to wonder whether he is alive or dead, never knew you existed or knew and just didn’t care to be in your life.” Kyle felt his heart pound in his ears as he heard the large boy continue without any sign of slowing down. 

“That’s what I went through, every day for ten years, until I finally learned the truth. I learned that my father never knew I existed and had been living in the same town as me, but no one gave enough of shit to tell me the truth, not even my own mother!” Cartman screamed the last part before angrily stomping over to a tree and giving it a swift kick, sending the early birds of spring and a pile of snow flying. Eric gave a deep sigh and leaned his head against the trunk of the tree.

“Scott has everything from my father, his looks, his money, and his love. I have nothing, I am nothing.” 

For an unknown amount of time, Kyle stared at his longtime associate in disbelief, the boy who would never dare to let anyone see him this vulnerable was allowing his foe to see him in this raw state. Cartman turned his head back at Kyle and there was no mistaking the cause of his wet stained cheeks. 

“That’s why I have to win this bet, Kahl. I need to have some piece of him.”

“...Woah Cartman,” the redhead uttered, completely at a loss for words. While he knew that it was normal to expect the absence of one’s father to be the catalyst for many issues as studies and common sense would tell you, he never expected it bothered Cartman that much, considering he was vocal about everything that displeased him from hippies to vegetarians to Jews. In response to everything that had been spoken, the fourth grader simply gazed at the weeping child with his mouth affixed trying. Kyle tried to figure out how he, the upstanding, voice of reason even to the point of being self righteous, person that he was going to remedy this situation.

The daywalker thought and thought until something hit him, how would he want someone else to treat him if it were him instead of Cartman? This was when he did the unfathomable, the boy in the orange parka strode over to the most anti-semetic person in South Park and embraced him. All the years of strife and conflict falling by the waist side as Kyle held Cartman, similarly to when Kenny died although this time Cartman was genuinely sad. All the while, the only thing Cartman could do was stand frozen in place as the boy he regularly insulted comforted him, showing how even after everything he had ever done, Kyle Broflovski would still choose to be the bigger person. This was the biggest thing Cartman loved and hated about Kyle.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that Cartman, I really am. While there’s nothing I can do to change the past, there is something I can do to change the future.” 

Kyle grabbed his hand and continued their original goal of walking back towards Cartman’s house.

Chapter Text

“You ready Scotty?”called Jack Tenorman to his ten year old son, Scott Tenorman.

“Dad, I don’t want to play football,” groaned the ginger boy. The Denver Bronco’s son, unlike him, did not hold the same enthusiasm for football and was sick of his dad trying to train him to be in the next starting lineup.

“It’s not football, Scotty. We’re just playing catch with a football,” the mustached man reassured his irritated son. When Scott was younger, he had begun perfecting his manipulation technique, acting innocent to adults so that way they wouldn’t believe the other kids when they say he scammed them out of twenty dollars or their snacks. There were moments, however, he just couldn’t hide his true feelings.

“I want to watch Terrance and Phillip and stop calling me Scotty. I hate that name,” the fourth grader complained.

“Please Scott, just catch the ball for your old man, huh. I won’t be around forever, you know,” Jack lamented, not so subtly guilting Scott into playing with him. Seriously, what the fuck was up with his family and manipulation?

“Fine Dad,” Scott sighed and stood in a ready stance, preparing himself for the ball.

“Okay, ready...go!” Mr. Tenorman announced before the boy jumped up into the air and caught it.

“Great catch Scott,” the left tackle said to his only son, well the only one he knew about. Scott, despite his best attempts, let a smile creep across his lips, breaking his stony expression. It was one of the rare moments he was happy from something genuinely wholesome rather than from tricking or tormenting someone else.

“Scott,” Jack called. “Scott… Scott… SCOTT!”

The redhead woke up from his recurring dream which felt more like a nightmare to the someone yelling from upstairs. 

“Where the hell are you, asshole!” rang out a familiar voice.

“Of fucking course,” the ginger teen sighed. It was bad enough his brother was the reason he had bad dreams, fucked up hair, but he was the reason his life sucked in general. Invigorated by annoyance, he pulled off his covers and began walking up the flight of steps.

Meanwhile, on the first floor of the house, two fourth graders searched for him.

“Dude, maybe your brother is not home?” Kyle contemplated aloud to the much more pissed off Eric Cartman.

“No, he’s here. That douchebag is probably still sleeping or jerking off… or maybe both,” Cartman stated, disgust traveling through his body in the form of a shiver.

“Whatever dude,” Kyle replied. “By the way, where’s your mom?”

“Oh, she’s probably still sleeping off her hangover. All I know is she better be awake by lunch time because I already missed breakfast for that damn movie!” The thought of missing breakfast AND the new release of Terrance and Phillip made Cartman even more irritated.

“SCOTT-”

“What the fuck do you want piggie!?” 

The fourth graders jerked their heads in the direction of the kitchen and saw Scott Tenorman standing before them. Kyle’s mouth went dry when he saw him less than five feet away, the last time he was within that close proximity with him was during the great Chili Con Carnival. Cartman, on the other hand, was not impressed.

“What do I want? I’ll tell you what I want. I want to kick you squa' in the nuts because you seem to forget that you’re living in MY house!” The obese brunette heaved with anger while Scott smiled in amusement at the reaction he was able to trigger.

“Shut up fatass,” Kyle interjected before the dueling sides could continue bickering. 

“We’re here to talk things out, remember?” The ninth grader diverted his attention from his younger brother and sized up the other kid. Huh, his voice sounds familiar, he must be the kid that called me about Farmer Denkin’s pony. He’s willing to defy Eric, but I doubt he will defy me. He could prove to be valuable to me.

“Hey Eric, who’s your friend?” Scott asked, the question was directed at Cartman, but the ninth grader never broke contact with Kyle. Scott wanted to see how long it would take to intimidate the ten year old into looking away, but Kyle, despite being scared, kept on a poker face. 

“We’ve talked on the phone before, but I never actually told you my name. I’m Kyle Broflovski.”

“Hmph, interesting,” the teenager said with his left thumb and index finger stroking his chin,

“And what brings you here today, Kyle Broflovski?”

“I...I mean we...um, huh,” Kyle sheepishly laughed. It was one thing talking to Cartman, while he had his dangerous moments, for the most part he was a whiny fat asshole. Scott Tenorman, meanwhile, was capable of doing everything his brother did, but with no sanity to hold him back.

“Back off Tenorman,” Cartman cut in, deciding to put an end to Scott’s tortue session. 

“Jew boy here is going to help us talk things out because you need to get some things straight if you’re going to continue living with me, otherwise, I’m gonna arrange a little family reunion,” the sociopath threatened, ending the sentence by dragging a finger across his throat.

“Here’s the thing, little brother,” Scott sweetly replied while clasping his hands to his chest. “The only reason you were able to kill my parents was because you manipulated someone else into doing your dirty work. In a real fight,” Scott said, bending down to the younger boys’ level so that both of them could hear him, “I would beat your pudgy ass into a bloody pulp, everytime,” stressing the last word.

“Okay…” Kyle nervously uttered, clearly unsettled. The fourth grade Jew had to proceed carefully in Scott and Cartman’s game of chicken, each waiting for the other to crack under the pressure.

“I’m going to keep this short because I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be,” the Jew deciding to keep things brief. “I, along with the rest of South Park cannot put up with you two constantly fighting. One Cartman is bad enough, two is unacceptable,” Kyle emphasized by raising two gloved fingers.  

“Look, I’m not saying you guys have to be friends because there’s no way in hell that will ever happen, but you have to at least be civil to each other. Okay?” Kyle looked over at both of the boys and neither Cartman nor Scott looked at the other.

“I said okay!” Kyle repeated in a loud bitchy tone similar to the one his mother used when she wanted him to do something.

“Alright,” Scott replied.

“Whatever,” mumbled Cartman.

“Cartman,” Kyle sternly expressed.

“Okay… I’ll try to be nice, jeez.”

“Good,” the boy in the green hat commented, his words conflicting with his pessimistic thoughts. Let’s see how long this will last?

*Knock Knock Knock*

The trio turned their heads towards the door surprised, they weren’t expecting anyone. Despite all three being equally confused, it was Cartman who decided to walk over to the door and answer it. When the chubby boy answered the door, he saw two teenagers, one in a red hoodie and the other in a purple sweater.

“Is Scott Tenorman here? I’m here to get my hat back,” the brunette teen in the purple sweater stated, not bothering to greet Cartman. The fourth grader did not take kindly to those who did not respect his authoritah in his home.

“Um, well I guess that really depends on just who the hell you think you are,” Cartman cooly responded, concealing the malice from his voice.

“Tyler, don’t you remember?” the red hooded teen piped in, “He’s the kid Scott sold his pubes to and then he fed Scott his parents. You’re Scott’s brother? How are you not in jail?” The redhead was bewildered by the fact, THIS kid, was not only his friend’s brother, but also the same person who killed his own dad and stepmom.

“In jail for what?” Cartman rebuffed, amazed by the stupidity of some people. “Farmer Denkins was the one that killed Mr. and Mrs.Tenorman, not me. Not to mention there’s no way anyone could link the crime to me let alone lock me up. Face it, I’m too big in this town.” While he may have accidentally killed his own father, Cartman was still proud of himself for the way he carried out and got away with the feat that was his and his wife’s demise.

“Yeah, you’re big I’ll say. Damn piggie, how much are they planning to fatten you up before Christmas dinner,” the brunette laughing at his own wisecrack along with his associate. In response, Cartman grinded his teeth as the pair chuckled at his expense. These assholes think I’m a joke, well let’s see who’s laughing when they end up missing on the side of a milk carton.

“Hey kid,” *ha ha ha* “is Scott here or-” *ha ha ha* 

“AUGH,” he was fed up with his half brother along with his friends’ bullshit. 

“Hey Scott,” Cartman yelled to his half brother, “Hurry up and give Bitch 1 back his hat so that he and Bitch 2 can get the fuck off my propertah!” Both teens subsequently stopped laughing when they heard what the overweight ten year old had called them. They furrowed their eyebrows together before a realization came over Tyler.  

“Wait, why am I Bitch 1?” he asked.

“Because you have to be the biggest bitch on the planet to not only be friends with, but take orders from a bunch of gingers,” Cartman retorted nonchalantly.  

“Argh,” the ninth grade bully let out, embarrassed and furious about being insulted by a fat fourth grader. The tall brunette began walking over to Cartman as he was not above putting his hands on a little kid. 

“Here’s your hat, Tyler,” Scott said, handing over the blue winter cap and leaning in to whisper something to him. The two fourth graders couldn’t hear what was being said, but they saw the brunette nod his head at Scott. Whatever Scott had said had successfully diffused the situation and Tyler and Aaron left Cartman’s house followed shortly by Kyle.

“Well, I’m getting dressed,” Scott stated aloud as he headed towards the basement “and after I eat something, I’m going into town to buy some hair dye.” 

“Wait Scott,” Cartman called to his older brother who was in the doorway of the basement.

“Yeah?”

“What did you say to that guy?” Cartman asked, the curiosity becoming too much for him.

“Well, not that it’s any of your business,” Scott retorted at a now scowling Cartman, “I made it clear to him that he should let me deal with you and that I was the only one who could put my hands on you.” The bleached redhead continued to walk down the stairs unconcerned while the obese boy stood perplexed. Scott Tenorman had implied he would beat him up, but wouldn’t let anyone else do so. The boy didn’t know whether to be cross or touched. I guess this is what having a brother must feel like.      

Chapter Text

“Dude, this is so fucking weak. I can’t believe I’m being forced to come to school on a Saturday,” Eric Cartman whined against his car window.

“Uh, I don’t know what the hell you’re complaining about. I’m the one who’s being dragged to your parent teacher conference,” Scott retorted from the passenger seat positioned next to Liane Cartman.

“Now boys, this will only last an hour at the most. Afterwards, we can get some KFC for dinner. Doesn’t that sound good poopsiekins?” 

“Hmph, I guess,” the heavy set boy begrudgingly agreed to his mother’s openly blatant bribery.

“Wow, Eric likes KFC. I never saw that one coming,” the ginger sarcastically scoffed as his younger brother clenched his teeth. I wonder if I could choke him to death like in that mob movie , the sociopath imagined wrapping a wire around Scott’s neck from the backseat and slowly choking the life out of the teen. 

“Alright, we’re here,” Mrs. Cartman announced in her usually cheerful voice. It was no sooner after she had said those words that the boys jumped out of the car and headed in separate directions. A car ride with one another was too much for either one of them to handle.

Inside South Park Elementary’s gymnasium, a huge banner hung from the ceiling reading, 

“Parent Teacher Conference Night” along with a large crowd of kids. Many of the kids, like Cartman, were annoyed that they had to wait in the gymnasium while their parents talked to their teachers. Meanwhile, others were happy to converse with their friends outside of class. Among South Park’s youth, however, Scott Tenorman stuck out like a sore thumb. At fifteen, the teen was the oldest one there and was twice as tall as the average fourth grader. It also didn’t help that Scott was known by many as “the kid who ate his parents, cried like a pussy in front of RadioHead, and became the insane leader of the Ginger Movement.” No, that did not help indeed. Even from the snack table Scott could feel the stares of the younger kids surrounding him as he sipped on some water.

When the teen first started receiving the leers, he had felt everything negative from devastating sadness to uncontrollable rage, but when he took over his younger brother’s movement, he learned to feel a sense of pride when people stared at him. People could say whatever they wanted about him because even after everything he had been through, he was still standing and in the end, it would be him who had the last laugh.

“Hey turd, you’re blocking the snacks.”

The ginger rotated his head in the direction of the voice and was surprised to find it was a girl with ungroomed hair, a perpetual scowl, and bulky headgear. “Didn’t you hear me turd! I told you to move,” she lisped through her metal wires. In response, the older teen merely stepped aside and observed the girl as she grabbed a plate and evaluated all the table’s contents. Scott gazed at the brute in pink before it hit him that he had heard about this girl, but had never met her before.

The brunette was Shelly Marsh, a seventh grader said to have the worst anger anyone had ever seen and she was strong enough to throw a piano over her head. In other words, she was the biggest bruiser in South Park Middle School, possibly in all of South Park. A smirk slowly emerged across Scott’s face when an idea popped into his head.

“I should warn you there’s nothing much you can eat there,” Scott casually said aloud as the brunette fretfully looked at the food on the wooden top.

“Oh yeah? Why is that,” Shelly questioned the boy in a vexed manner.

“Because most of them are hard, chewy, or sticky meaning they will either get stuck in your braces or damage them,” the ninth grader cooly responded while Shelly merely inspected the snacks only to realize he was correct. Popcorn, apples, candy, all the foods she couldn’t eat and neither could Scott. “I guess they didn’t expect someone older than eleven to want a snack.”  

“UGH, why does this shit always happen to me!” the exasperated Marsh girl shrieked. It was bad enough her mom had forced her to come to her brother’s parent teacher conference, but there wasn’t any food she could eat during it. An overwhelming urge to grab the table and fling it across the room entered Shelly’s mind, but she couldn’t deal with her parents lecturing her about her behavior so she took several huge breaths.

Scott chuckled to himself as he observed the girl’s rage, it reminded him of his little brother’s. How the hell did Eric Cartman wind up being my little brother instead of this girl? They’re both brunettes, both rage machines, and both got screwed over in the looks department.

“Hey Shelly, what’s wrong?” Scott diverted his attention to a boy walking towards the pair. The seventh grade boy sported a set of braces like the other two and his hair was a wild mess just like his female companion, however, he also had dirt smudges on his face. 

“Shut up Kevin, I’m pissed and I’m hungry,” Shelly answered.

“Oh, okay,” Kevin responded in his country accent before noticing Scott, his face contorting from sweetly concerned to threatened. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“Well, I’m Scott. Eric’s brother,” the ninth grader informed him before the pair both gawked at Scott in complete shock.

“Eric Cartman?!” Shelly and Kevin exclaimed while Scott merely looked at them in surprise.

“You mean that fat, racist, foul mouth kid my kid brother always hangs out with?” Kevin asked.

“My brother hangs out with him too! I babysat for that fat turd one time,” Shelly chimed in, physically cringing as she remembered the whole “Skylar” incident.

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed before scanning the crowd and pointing to a boy in a red coat and blue hat, “that’s him other there.” Kevin and Shelly looked at each other for a moment before breaking out into laughter.

“That’s a good one Scott. You really had us for a minute,” Kevin snickered while Shelly snorted next to him. The ninth grader watched the pair as they continued laughing, unsure whether to feel amusement regarding their ignorance or annoyance from their stupidity. 

“Well, I don’t see what the joke is since he is my brother,” the ginger calmly replied, his serious answer made the others cease their tittering.

“Oh yeah, if you’re that fat turd’s brother, how come there were no pictures of you in his house when I babysat for him?” Shelly interrogated the strange teen, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Scott was becoming increasingly irritated with the pair questioning his accountability, indirectly insinuating he was a liar, and the fact that Shelly kept calling his brother a fat turd when she was nothing to write home about.

“Ah Jesus, do I have to explain this every time I meet someone,” Scott sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose before proceeding to explain how they had met to him moving in with him. After the teen finished his story, the only thing Shelly and Kevin could do was give Scott a disturbed look.

Meanwhile on the gymnasium benches

“Did you guys see the new episode of Terrance and Phillip...oh fuck.”

“What is it dude?” Kyle concernly asked his wide eyed best friend while Cartman and Kenny continued their conversation.  

“Kinny, there’s no such thing as a smart redneck. That’s like saying Kyle’s a generous Jew. The phrase contradicts itself.”

“Hey Cartman...” Stan called to the bigoted boy without ever taking his eyes off the sight in front of him.

“What is it hippie?! Can’t you see I’m telling Kinny something important?”

“Dude, Scott Tenorman is talking to my sister and some other guy.” The boys glanced over at the snack table and saw the group of teens conversing with one another.

“Dude, that’s Kevin,” Kenny exclaimed in a muffled voice, surprised to see his brother talking to Scott, meanwhile Cartman and Kyle merely stood in awe at the scene unfolding before them. Fortunately, Kyle’s brother, Ike, and Kenny’s sister, Karen, were lucky enough to be left at home with their dads.

“Unh-uh, nope. No fucking way,” Cartman shook his head and got up from the benches and began walking over to the group.                

“Scott!”

“Huh?” The ginger teen noticed his ticked off brother marching towards him with three other boys trailing behind him. This made him feel a sinister sense of joy knowing that he could embarrass his long time nemesis in front of his friends and their siblings.

“Oh hello little brother. Are you having a good time?” Scott sweetly taunted the furious fourth grader.

“Cut the crap Tenorman. What the hell are you up to?” 

“What are you talking about? I’m just having a nice conversation with my new acquaintances, Shelly and Kevin. I guess you’re friends with their brothers,” Scott concluded with a swig from his plastic cup while the sociopathic fourth grader became more and more enraged.

“I don’t need you talking to my friends’ siblings and telling my business to any sap who will listen. As for you two,” Cartman turned to face the seventh graders, “don’t believe a word he says. This asshole is the most manipulative, sadistic piece of shit that you will ever meet.” Everyone beside Cartman glanced at one another and stifled their laughter at the irony in that statement.

“Yeah, well what makes you think we should believe you over him?” Kevin asked.

“Yeah turd,” Shelly interjected.

“Listen,”  Cartman sighed with his hand on his forehead, “I don’t expect your simpleminded ass to understand just how dangerous Scott Tenorman is, but I just need you to trust me on this one.”

“Urgh,” Kevin and Kenny growled, both brothers angry that he kept talking down about their family because they were “white trash.”

“Shut up fat turd,” Shelly rebuffed in Kevin’s defense, the younger boy’s face conveying hurt from being insulted. Scott’s smirk dropped from his face and he could no longer hold his tongue.

“Ah, Shelly. I’m gonna need you to lay off the fat comments, otherwise I’m gonna hurt your feelings and you won’t like that. Like, I know he’s fat, but I don’t need your heavy foot stomping, wet troll doll hair having, headgear wearing, forever on her monthly looking ass insulting my brother without my permission. You got that?” In response to that comment, everyone stood shell-shocked while the teen merely continued drinking his now empty water cup.

“Oh poopsiekins!” Liane Cartman unexpectedly greeted the bunch as she strode over to them.  “Mommy just finished talking with Mrs. Nelson. We can go to KFC now!” 

“Okay, Liane. Let’s go Eric,” Scott grabbed the stunned boy’s hand and quickly turned to the group, “it was a pleasure meeting all of you. We should do this again sometime,” he cheerfully departed before the trio began walking out of the school. 

“What the hell was that about Scott? You know Shelly could kick your ass, right?” Cartman reprimanded the older boy in the parking lot.

“I’m not going to have some fugly looking bitch insult my brother, no matter how much I can’t stand him,” the ginger teen replied, rubbing the circles under his eyes which had been there for months. Cartman looked away from Scott and down at his lap, Why would he stand up for me, he hates me! Or does he?  

Elsewhere, in the gymnasium, the three boys and the two seventh graders quietly stood before Shelly broke the silence.

“Do I really look like a wet haired troll doll?”

“I mean, it would help if you brushed your hair once in a while,” Stan nervously replied. Shelly angrily looked at Stan before quickly punching him in the shoulder.

“Shut up turd!”

Chapter Text

Eric Cartman furiously scratched at his bathing suit area as the rest of the fourth grade chatted amongst themselves. 

“Quit scratching yourself down there, dude. It’s gross,” Kyle reprimanded, while Stan and Kenny looked visibly disgusted. 

“I can’t help it. It started itching since Monday and I don’t know why,” the obese boy angrily retorted. 

“Whatever dude, maybe the nurse can check it out when you go in for your physical,” Stan suggested. 

Since it was Thursday, it was the fourth grade’s turn to line up outside of the nurse’s office for the annual routine that the obese boy grew to hate. Even though the examination only lasted a few minutes, it made the boy feel like shit for the rest of the day, even more than he already did.

“Dude, what if I have Herpes?” Cartman thought aloud to himself, an idea that wasn’t too far out there considering both his mom and Kenny had gotten Herpes, but then again, he wasn’t a dirty slut like either of them.

“I mean, Herpes isn’t the worst way to die,” Kenny remarked, a sentiment that did nothing to soothe anyone in the group. 

“Hey fellers,” Butters interrupted the group’s discussion about Herpes as he exited the nurse’s office. “Guess what? I grew 2 inches since last year! Isn’t that cool?”

“Butters, no one gives a damn about your height. I see you every fucking day, you think I don’t know how tall you are? Besides, I have bigger things to worry about, I might have Herpes!” Cartman snapped at the beaming blonde, his joy quickly evaporating before heading to the back of the line.

“Eric Cartman,” Nurse Gollum called from her office as Token Black walked out of her office. Cartman groaned aloud before walking into the small orange room with a lone medical examination bed. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

“Hello Eric. How are you feeling this morning?” Nurse Gollum politely asked the boy. Pretty shitty, thank you for asking.

“I’m okay,” Cartman grumbled to the woman, actively trying to avoid making direct eye contact with the dead fetus on the side of her head. 

“That’s good to hear. Why don’t you take your shoes and coat off before stepping on the scale?” The ten year old reluctantly complied before gently stepping on the scale. The overweight boy resisted the urge to shut his eyes as the digital scanner calculated his weight, the numbers racing between 60 to 90. 

“Okay it says, 95 pounds. It looks like you gained 5 pounds since last school year,” Nurse Gollum sympathetically remarked as she scribbled the number down on her clipboard. The boy groaned as he got off the scale and walked over to the wall to get his height measured.

“Well hey now, here’s some good news,” the nurse cheerfully chirped to the boy’s disdain. “It looks like you grew an inch and a half since last spring.” 

“Okay,” Cartman replied, uninterested by the news.

“Alright then,” the nurse sighed in response, “is there anything else you would like to ask or show me before you leave.”

“Nah, not really,” he said, lightly scratching his pants to try and alleviate some of the itchiness in his nether regions.

“Um, how long have you been experiencing itchiness in the area near your genitals?”

“I don’t know, since Monday. There are these dots below my stomach and above my fireman,” Cartman answered, never ceasing his scratching.

“Oh my, that sounds like something I should examine,” she voiced aloud before asking the fourth grader to slightly pull down his pants. 

“I think it might be Herpes. My Myem has it and she’s always scratching herself down there.”

“Eric, Herpes is a sexually transmitted disease that you are either born with or catch. I doubt you have Herpes,” she chided the boy as he unzipped his pants. When Nurse Gollum finally glanced below the boy’s beltline, a surprised expression took over her face.

“Wow, I’ve never seen this on a boy this young.” 

“I knew it! I do have Herpes,” Cartman exclaimed.

“You don’t have Herpes,” the Nurse breathlessly replied before looking him in the eye, “you’ve started developing pubic hair.” 

“Pubic hair?” Cartman said confused before a realization struck him, “you mean pubes?!”

“That’s another way of putting it.” A rush of adrenaline and surprise swirled inside the boy, he felt like a shaken soda that was ready to burst.

“You’re telling me I have pubes! Like actual pubes, not fake ones you buy from some ginger!”

“Yes…” a visible disturbed Nurse Gollum replied. 

“Oh my God,” a bug eyed Cartman said while a concerned Nurse Gollum put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know it might seem scary to be one of the first boys in your grade to develop, but just know that everyone begins puberty at their own pace and that it’s nothing to be asham-” Nurse Gollum suddenly realized that the fourth grade boy was no longer in front of her and she turned her head to see him standing in the doorway.

“Kahl, guess what?! I got pubes before you did!” Cartman excitedly exclaimed in front of the entire fourth grade with a pointed finger at an astonished Kyle Broflovski.

“Oh boy,” Nurse Gollum nervously contemplated before calling the next kid into her office.

Today had hands down been the greatest day of Eric Cartman’s life. All the fourth grade boys including some non-fourth graders showered him with attention, all of them amazed that a boy from their school had managed to develop pubes. Even Kyle, the sociopath’s long time adversary, had to admit that he was impressed. It was a narcissist's wet dream. In the eyes of Cartman, the only day that could be considered greater than this one would be when Kyle Broflovski would suck his balls. It wasn’t a question of if, but when.

“Oh, Scott,” Cartman sweetly announced as he strode into his house to see his older half-brother sprawled out on the couch.

“What do you want piggie?” he responded, his eyes never looking up from the t.v.

“Now, now, Scott, I would watch my language if I were you. If you have to call me anything, call me man because that’s what I am.” Scott scrunched up his face and glanced up from the daytime program he was watching to see his younger brother grinning.

“Did you smoke some of your mom’s crack or something?”

“Better, today I had a physical exam at school and the nurse said I had pubes!” Cartman exclaimed. The brunette gave his brother a shit eating grin as he waited for his response, would he be surprised, impressed, or better yet intimidated? For a brief moment, a silence filled the space between the two brothers and just when Cartman thought he saw a shocked expression on Scott's, the teen shrugged it off before changing the channel.

“Huh, didn’t you hear me? I said I have pubes,” Cartman nervously chuckled.

“Yeah, I heard you. So what?” the redhead rebuffed. The teen’s blas é response to such a momentous occasion in the sociopath’s life triggering something inside of him. 

“Oh, I get you. You think I’m lying. Well, too bad for you Tenorman, because this time I’m actually telling the truth. See?” 

“See what, JESUS ERIC!” Scott looked away in horror and disgust from his brother’s exposed pubic bone. 

“I will not be ignored Scott. You will acknowledge that I have pubes and that they’re pretty kwel,” the scowling boy demanded.

“Dude, pull your pants up. I don’t want to see my brother’s pubic hair!”

“Why? You had no problem showing and selling your pubic hair to your half-brother?”

“I didn’t know you were my brother!” Scott yelled. 

“I’m not pulling my pants up until you see them for yourself,” Cartman cooly responded.

“Damnit Cartman!” the fifteen year old cursed before reluctantly lowering his arms and looking over at his brother. In a matter of seconds, the teen’s face transformed from one of disgust to realization.

“See asshole? I told you I have pubes. It may have taken me several months, but now I finally have pubes of my own.”

“Uh Eric, you know what color they are, right?” 

“Heh, huh?” Cartman’s confident smile slipped off his face when he realized that he himself did not know what color his pubes were. In response, the two dumbly stared at one another before the boy lifted his stomach and actually examined the hairs for himself. The brunette squinted down at the hairs before a look of utter horror engulfed his face.

Cartman quickly pulled his pants up. This cannot be happening to me, not me. The brunette numbly sat down on the couch next to Scott, trying to ignore the reality of his situation.

“So, what’re you watching?” The brunette sheepishly asked Scott who was still staring at him in disbelief.

“Are you just going to pretend like your pubes aren’t red?” Scott questioned, a smile beginning to creep upon his lips.

“They aren’t that red, okay!” the brunette snapped at his brother, “it’s just a bit copper, that’s all.’’ Cartman’s eyes darted from the t.v. to Scott and he could see he was now the one with the shit eating grin.

“Quit smiling asshole!” 

“You don’t have to be ashamed in front of me, little brother. You’re half brunette and half ginger, just like me, you just happen to have the reverse of what I got,” Scott cackled as Cartman fumed. 

“Augh, what the hell am I going to do when I have to shower after P.E. Everyone’s going to see that I’m a ginger!” Cartman began to whimper. The teen ceased his laughter when he heard his younger brother beginning to cry deciding that he had his fun. 

“Hey,” Scott nudged Cartman to quit crying, “it’s not that bad, okay? When your pubes get wet, they get dark like the hair on your head. Your pubes are close enough to brown that people won’t be able to tell the difference until it’s too late.” Cartman wiped back a tear and stared at the ninth grader in disbelief.

“What is your endgame?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, what are you getting out of helping me? You hate me.” The duo sat in silence together for several minutes with the exception of the screaming from the Maury Povich show blaring through the speakers.

“I don’t hate you…”

“Huh?” The fourth grader jerked his head to the right to look at Scott.

“I admit, I used to hate you. For a long time after you killed my parents, all I thought about was how much I hated you and how I wanted to get back at you. I wanted you to be in as much pain as I was. But now, I don’t have the energy to hate you. Even though I want to, I don’t hate you. Not like I used to.” The fourth grader stared at the older boy. In all the time they had known one another, the brunette had never noticed how tired the teen looked. Dark circles curved around his eyes like crescent moons, the same moon that he would stare at the many nights he couldn’t sleep. 

“Well, if you don’t hate me, how do you feel about me?” Cartman curiously asked. Scott broke eye contact with the t.v. and the two met each other’s gaze.

“It depends. Sometimes I’m annoyed, amused, frustrated, and other times I’m just pissed. Maybe a combination of two or more at the same time. Above all else, however, I feel sad.”

“Sad?” Cartman dumbly repeated. Sadness was something that he was himself was intimately familiar with, something few people would assume about the normally angry, loud mouthed boy. Cartman looked his half-brother in the eye and saw that everything he had said was true. Scott wasn’t angry, he just looked exhausted and depressed.

“When I was institutionalized, I had to attend a lot of boring group therapies. During one of them, I learned that anger is a secondary emotion or a reactionary response to a primary emotion. I...” Scott sighed, “for a long time I blamed you for why my life was so crappy, never bothering to look at myself and take responsibility for my role in my parents.” Scott and Cartman both stared down at their shoes as the conversation turned uncomfortable. “Look, I’m not saying that what you did wasn’t wrong or that it is all my fault, but I would be deluding myself if I thought that I didn’t have anything to do with you deciding to do what you did.” Is he really going to do what I think he’s going to do , Eric wondered in his head as Scott gathered the courage to continue his speech.

“Eric, I’m sorry I scammed you out of $10 by selling you my pubes. I’m sorry I tricked you out of another $6.12 when I promised you I would give you a refund. I’m sorry I told you to go to Fort Collins because there was a Pube Fair.”

“Scott...”

“I’m sorry I had you oink like a pig, videotaped it, and then broadcasted it in front of a crowd of people.”

“Scott,” Cartman repeated louder, but Scott was too lost in his own thoughts to notice.

“I’m sorry I put my pubes in the chili you were supposed to eat at the Chili Con Carnival and most of all, I’m sorry I burned your money in front of you even after all the rotten stuff I put you through.” Tears that he had been storing for months streamed down his freckled cheeks, his words becoming more and more incoherent. “My parents are dead and it’s all because I tortured you for my sick amusement. What kind of sick fuck sells their pubes to their little brother?”

“SCOTT!” Cartman screamed as he grabbed the teenager by his shoulders, “I’m not mad, so you can quit crying, pussy.” The ninth grader, however, had a hard time controlling his emotions, the toll of his deeds weighing heavily on him as he gasped for air.

“Scott,” Cartman tried to speak, but found that his voice had failed him as well. The fourth grader bit his bottom lip to keep his emotions in check and took a deep breath. “Forget it man, we both acted like a bunch of assholes and there’s nothing we can do about it now.” The teen wiped his pale, tear stained face and finally calmed down.

“Sorry. Do you just want to watch some t.v.?”

“Yeah, that would be kwel,” Cartman tentatively agreed as the two of them awkwardly watched men jumping up and down and women crying when the paternity results came out negative. After watching the show for a while, the fourth grader turned his head to the side and noticed that Scott had fallen asleep on the couch.

“Hey Scott,” the fourth grader called to his brother, but received no answer. “Dude...I forgive you...and I guess I’m sorry too,” Cartman whispered before hopping off the green couch to grab his backpack and head upstairs to his room. 

Chapter Text

“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 rebuttal. 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 embarrassing 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 Separatist 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.

Chapter Text

The first thing Cartman noticed when he woke up was that his face really fucking hurt. Actually, even before he fully regained consciousness, he could feel the pain radiating from underneath his eyelids. It was only when the boy dared to open his eyes that he understood the gravity of his injuries. The fourth grader’s right eye slowly emerged from its bruised fleshy mound while the other one wouldn’t budge. Aw Goddammit, my eye’s swollen shut. This is worse than when that bitch, Wendy, kicked my ass. Heh, “killer titties,”...worth it.

The brunette’s mouth began to form something resembling a smile before quickly stopping to cease the stinging from his split, tender lips. As his vision became less hazy, the second thing he noticed after waking up was that he was no longer in the parking lot surrounded by pissed off sixth graders. Eric turned his head to the left side and saw a window decorated with green drapes behind a chest of toys. 

“What…” he hoarsely exclaimed before breaking into a coughing fit.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” spoke a familiar voice. Cartman switched his glance from the left to the right side of his room, his gaze landing on the redhead teen standing in his doorway.

“How-How did I-” 

“How did you get home? Who do you think? Hell, I almost bust my ass trying to carry you up the stairs. I almost tripped over your stupid cat,” Scott grumbled, the latter sentiment sparking an interest in Cartman.

“Is Mr. Kitty okay!”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?” The memory of what took place at the mall, the sixth graders surrounding a terrified, crying Mr. Kitty, preceded by them beating him unconscious, made the fourth grader grow more and more irate. 

“It’s cause those stupid assholes kidnapped Mr. Kitty! If I hadn’t showed up, they were going to tortue her to get back at me,” Cartman angrily ranted before being interrupted by a coughing fit. Scott walked over to the ten year old and helped him sit up. While the fit lasted less than a minute, the pain from his bruised ribs made a few slips slip out, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the ninth grader.

“Jesus, drink some water already and take a tissue,” Scott gruffly offered to the child, his stern expression softening a bit when the boy merely accepted them. The teen watched him sip from the glass until deciding to get up and head to the doorway. 

“Where-where are you going?”

“Downstairs. A bunch of kids dressed in costumes have been sitting in the living room for twenty minutes waiting for you to wake up. I told them to come back tomorrow, but they insisted on staying for whatever reason,” Scott flippantly remarked as he exited the room. When the fourth grader heard the door close behind the teen, he cautiously touched his face to further inspect his injuries only to realize that he wasn’t wearing his mask.

“Huh, I guess it made sense that he took my mask off,” Cartman thought aloud, tracing his fingers against his swollen eyes, lips, and bandaids? Now even more curious, he pulled down his bed sheets and saw that he was no longer wearing his blood stained costume or shoes, but his shark pajamas. 

“Hmph, I don’t know how I should feel about-” 

*knock* *knock*”

“Hey dude, can we come in,” spoke a muffled voice resembling Stan’s.

“Sure, I guess,” he replied, hastily pulling the covers back up to his neck. The boy’s door swung open to a stream of nervously chattering fourth graders dressed as superheroes, minus Professor Chaos.

“Golly Eric, are you alright?”

“AUGH- what happened?!”

“Calm down babe”

“Dude, what did you do to those sixth graders?! When we got to the mall they were all bloodied and passed out. I think I’ve died way less painful deaths than those douchebags.”

“Chil-chil-chill out fellas. That gin-gin-ginger told us not to get him too excited or he would ki-ki-kick us the fuck out,” Jimmy reminded them before breaking out into his signature smile. 

As the injured superhero continued to be subjected to a barrage of questions and accusations, he noticed that Kyle was silent. The kite hero had his head lowered at the ground, refusing to look at him.

“Hey! What did I tell you, brats,” a loud voice reprimanded the group from the hallway, making the kids cease their chattering momentarily before proceeding with caution. As everyone around was talking up a storm, Kyle couldn’t bring himself to look at him . It’s my fault he’s hurt. He told me he needed our help, but I dismissed him… and now look at him. The fourth grade boy could feel a lump forming in his throat the more he thought about his role in his long time frenemy’s injury. Even if I can’t stand him, he didn’t deserve to be beaten for saving his cat. For doing the right thing for once. Feeling the emotions inside him welling up, the daywalker decided to slip out of the room discreetly into the hallway. Once outside, he let out a sigh that had been building up inside of him.

“What’s got you down little red?” 

“Ah!” Kyle jerked in surprise at the sight of Scott leaning against the wall next to the boy’s bedroom.

“Jesus, calm down. It’s just me. Actually, that may not be the most reassuring thing in the world,” Scott chuckled while Kyle gradually began to calm down. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“Huh?”

“You insisted on staying until my brother woke up and now you don’t want to see him? I don’t know about you, but I can’t help but find that a bit odd,” Scott casually remarked as the younger boy nervously fidgeted with his hands. After the older boy ceased his laughter, the two stood in awkward silence, the other waiting for someone to make the first move. “You know kid, I’ve been meaning to ask you something for a while.”

“Okay, what?”

“I remember when we first spoke on the phone, you told me you were his friend, but that you hated him. Maybe you could explain that to me?”

“Well…,” the fourth grader paused to collect his thoughts, “Most people would consider Cartman my friend since I’ve known him half of my life and I hang out with him all the time, so I guess it would make sense to call him my friend. On the other hand, he’s an annoying, greedy, crude, lazy, manipulative, spoiled, sadistic, sociopathic fat idiot who hates everyone and everything including himself even though he’s a total narcissist.” The fourth grader crossed his arms over his chest and his expression softened a bit. “And yet, whenever we really need him, whether it be baby cows, a hippie invasion, or Saddam Hussein, he always pulls through in the end. But the one time when he really needed me, I didn't bother to show up until it’s too late…  is that a good enough explanation for you, Tenorman?” Kyle angrily glanced at the older redhead who merely watched with a blank expression.

“Sure, I guess. I mean, it was a bit long winded, but you got your point across.”

“God, Cartman was right. You really are an asshole, which means a lot coming from him,” Kyle began to chuckle, heading back off towards the bedroom door.

“Phft, whatever you say kite boy,” he amusedly commented while  Kyle rolled his eyes before rejoining the others inside Cartman’s room.

Buzz

“Huh?” The teen reached into his pant’s pocket to check out the notification on his phone. What he saw gave him reason to pause.

Did you really think you could block me and I wouldn’t find a way to contact you. No one stabs me in the back and gets away with it. We could have gotten revenge together Scott, but since you backed out of the deal, I’m coming for you too.

The message sent chills down the ninth grader’s spine as he both deleted and blocked the phone number. Meanwhile, laughter could be heard from the other room for reasons unknown to the grim faced teenager who knew it may not last for too much longer.

Chapter Text

At 7:40 am on a Monday morning, South Park Elementary’s fourth grade class were sitting in class with no teacher.

“Dude, the bell rang ten minutes ago, where the hell is our new teacher?” Craig groaned, the nasally voiced boy sinking further behind his desk.

“I don’t know man, first Ms. Choksondik kicked the bucket and now Ms. Nelson!? Who the fuck would want to be our teacher! EEK!,” exclaimed South Park’s biggest spaz and coffee (actually meth) addict, Tweek Tweak, in his normal paranoid tone.

Meanwhile, in the second row of desks, Cartman absently rubbed his healed lip. It had been three weeks since the parking lot incident and most of his injuries were either gone or almost done healing. Ever since the fight, there had been something bothering the fourth grader. For weeks, kids, teens, and even adults had been coming up to him and asking him how he beat a group of sixth graders unconscious even though they knocked him out. When people would ask him who beat up the older boys, he couldn’t give them an answer. 

Nobody believes me and Scott says he doesn’t know. Yeah right! That lying ginger fu-   

Without warning, the door swung open to a balding middle aged man sporting glasses, a button down green shirt and pants. It was a sight the elementary schoolers did not expect.

“Hello children,” Mr. Garrison greeted the mixture of surprised and confused ten year olds.

“Aw man, I was just about to go home. This is weak,” Cartman sighed.

“Mr. Garrison! What are you doing here?” asked Kyle. 

“Well, the school board has agreed to let me be your instructor for the last two weeks of fourth grade despite them firing me since they are short staffed and most of my presidential pension is going towards lawsuits that cannot be discussed for legal reasons. Now, can I get on with the lesson or does anyone else have any dumb shit to say?”

The fourth graders silently glanced at one another while Cartman miserably huffed at not getting to leave early.

“Well gosh, I can’t believe Mr. Garrison came back to South Park,” Butters commented whilst he and Cartman sat on the latter boy’s brown couch.

“I can’t believe that cross dressing has-been is forcing us to do some stupid science project due Friday for a quarter of our final grade!,” chimed in an incredibly pissed off Cartman .

“Ah gee Eric, it’s not that bad. There are a bunch of things we could do for our project,” Butters beamed while the sociopath gave him a dead-eyed look.

“Do any of these ideas involve a plant in a cup, a miniature volcano, some kind of battery, or dropping mentos into a fucking bottle of soda?”

“Um… maybe,” Butters sheepishly replied.

“Screw you Mr. Garrison,” Cartman exasperatedly cursed under his breath. Normally when the class was forced to work in groups, he would join Kyle, Stan, and Kenny’s group knowing that they would carry his share of the workload. However, on this occasion, Mr. Garrison picked out their science partners, leaving him with an obedient, but daft partner. For Cartman, this meant he would be stuck having to do some actual work.

“Dammit Butters, what is this, amateur hour?! Everybody is gonna laugh at us if we show up to school with some kindergarten science project, especially that backstabbing Jew rat Kahl! God why couldn’t I have been paired with him? He and Stan are probably developing the cure to Cancer as we speak just to show me up on Friday,” the narcissist whined into his jacket.

“Hey, what are you assholes yelling about?”

The two fourth graders craned their necks to see the ninth grader dressed in all black including his backpack walking down the stairs. Upon seeing the scowling ginger, Butters freezed in terror while Cartman rolled his eyes.  

“We have to do this gay ass science project by the end of the week and all we have are a bunch of lame ideas,” Cartman huffed before crossly folding his arms.

When Scott heard the words “science project,” the brunette could see it piqued the teen’s interest. Scott furrowed his eyebrows in thought for a few seconds before a grin began to form on his lips.

“A science project you say? Hmph, I think I might be able to help you boys out…”

At this news, the kids’ expressions softened, the duo appearing visibly relieved.

“You will? Well golly, thanks a bunch.”

“Yes, I will help you, however, I need you boys to help me out first. I mean, I think that’s only fair,” the teen innocently glanced away.

“Ah, there’s always a catch with you, isn’t there? Alright Tenorman, we’re game. What do you need us to do?”

“Well, little brother,” Scott sweetly cooed, “As you already know, I build robots and various other machines not only for my organization, but as a hobby.”

“But didn’t you only do that in the video ga-”

“We do not speak of that!” Scott angrily interrupted before letting out a sigh, “Who do you think built that elaborate Chili Con Carnival venue with the rollercoasters, the rides, hell my jetpack?” The two boys stared at the ginger in disbelief before the latter angrily shook his head. “It’s canon, alright!”

“Eh, okay,” Butters agreed.

“Whatever,” Cartman added.

“Long story short, I need to break into Dr. Mephesto’s lab to get some parts for my own project. If you guys help me, I’ll give you one of his experiments or build you guys something, I don’t know.”

“Break into Dr. Mephesto’s lab? I don’t know, that sounds dangerous,” the blonde voiced his concerns. “Plus, what if we get caught? I’m not so sure about this… what do you think Eric? Eric?” When the child was met with silence, Butters turned towards the seat next to him and noticed the heavy set child was gone. Butters glanced back towards Scott and spotted the brunette on climbing up the stairs towards his room.

“What are you waiting for Butters? If we’re going to do this, we have to hurry the hell up and get ready to go.”

The full moon illuminated behind the swirling clouds as the trio approached the dark gates reading “South Park Genetic Engineering.”

“Come on, twerps. I want to get in and out as quickly as possible,” Scott grumbled at his slower lackeys.

“Cool your ovaries, Scott. This is our first time doing this,” Cartman brashly retorted. Once the younger boys reached the top of the hill, Scott finally had a chance to get a good look at their disguises since it was already dark when they met outside. The ginger’s face contorted into horror at the sight before him.

“Why the fuck are you two in black face?!”

“Da fuck are you talking about? You were the one who told us to cover our faces.”

“I meant wear masks! You can’t go around painting your faces… you know what, I don’t have time for this,” Scott scoffed. The younger boy rolled his eyes in annoyance at his older brother as the teen partially scaled the iron gates and swung over the shorter iron fence and bushes.

“Maybe he should be more specific next time, that smelly asshole,” Cartman whispered to Butters.

“I heard that piggie,” the teen responded, surprising both kids.

“Wow, he’s good,” Butters remarked at a tight faced Cartman as both proceeded to climb over the short fence and fell into the bushes.

Inside Dr. Alphonse Mephesto’s lab, the boys strolled past the gruesome sights contained within the lab’s walls. Genetically mutated gorilla-donkey hybrids, fruit shaped like a pair of bottocks, mutant sixth graders behind glass, and all the mutated animals with extra asses growing wherever they could.

“Aw man, this place sure is scarier at night when nobody’s around,” the soft spoken fourth grader uttered while the others seemed mainly unphased. The three continued quietly creeping through the lab, cautious not to wake the scientist or his adopted son and lab assistant, Kevin, while Scott sifted through different piles of parts, selecting the ones he liked and leaving the ones he didn’t.

“Dude, what the hell did you need us for again? All you’re doing is having us shove a bunch of crap into our backpacks,” Cartman whined next to Scott as the two stood in front of a work table.

“This “crap” is what’s going to help build my machines and your project, retard. So I suggest you act a little more appreciative,” Scott snubbed his now irate brother.

“Appreciative?! I never asked for your help, you only offered to “help” because there was something in it for you,” the brunette rebutted. This sentiment snapped Scott from his work, eliciting a ugly scowl that revealed his braces.

Meanwhile, in the midst of the “Tenorman” kids’ quarrel, Butters walked around the room observing the different inventions and devices until he saw one that made his jaw drop.

“Oh my God,” Butters muttered in awe, lighting brushing his finger against the rectangular black box with a few buttons, a clear screen, and a cord attached to its top. The blonde glanced back at the bickering pair and back at the device. I need to have this , he thought before abruptly lifting the only 0.5 gram tool from the sensor sensitive work table.

“How about you appreciate my balls in your mouth, you ungrateful, mooching, lying ginger!” 

“I don’t expect a spoiled brat like you to understand me or my feelings, but not everything I do is out of greed or vengeance like you,” Scott refuted, the teen’s words dripping with venom.

“Alright Scott, since I’m so stupid, answer me this? Why is it one minute you take pleasure in degrading and tormenting me and then the next you’re sobbing out an apology and defending me from anyone willing to hurt me?” The fifteen year old’s face softened and his jaw slackened. The point blank question had managed to catch him off guard all the while Cartman merely glared at him. Was this a rhetorical question or did he expect the orphan to give him an actual anwer?

“Hey guys, look at what I found,” the other child happily strolled over to the silent pair. “It’s an accelerometer. I’ve only seen them online. They are supposed to measure acceleration, but I heard you can use them to measure the vibrations in a drum.”

“Did you get that off that table?!” Scott pointed to the metallic table that was connected to wires, the panic evidently creeping onto his face. 

“Eh, yeah, I suppose I did. Why do you ask-”

*Bing*

Light flooded the previously dark room as the ceiling lights automatically turned on from the triggered security system.

“…That’s why ”

“Aw hamburgers”

“Well, well, well,” an eerie voice spoke from the doorway, the trio turned and saw none other than Dr. Mephesto and Kevin, both in their matching Hawaiian print pajamas. “So you finally slipped up I see. I knew one of these days I would finally catch you.”

“Don’t think so highly of yourself, doc. I wasn’t the one who tripped the alarm,” the teen angrily glared at the blonde child who merely looked away in shame.

“Such a pity you had to drag these children into your…um, why are these kids in black face?”

“Damn, how did he figure it out?” Cartman asked Butters, the latter simply giving him a shrug.

“Sorry Dr. Meph, as much as I would love to continue this conversation, it’s a school night and we have to be getting home. Isn’t that right boys?” The two younger accomplices nodded as the teen pulled a jetpack out of his backpack and put it on.

“Gosh Scott, you had a jetpack this whole time?”

“Don’t question it kid.”

“Kevin, stop them!” The old scientist commanded the tiny man before  he began bolting towards.

“Run to the windows, boys,” the ginger instructed as all three of them ran to the large windows on the other side of the room. Scott unlocked the latch at the top of the pane while Butters and Cartman popped it open.

“Kevin, don’t let them get away! I want to see what a four-assed ginger looks like,” the mad scientist creepily cooed.

“Grab on to me and don’t let go,” Scott cautioned the two kids, both doing exactly as instructed. As they flew out the window, the child sized man crossed the distance of the room and lept out the building onto the obese child’s leg.

“Hey, get off me you stupid midget!” Eric screamed, trying to kick the child-sized mute off of him, but that didn’t stop him from climbing up his pants.

“Eric!”

“Dude, quit squirming so much! You’re gonna make me drop you!” While the teenage sociopath’s jetpack could normally support his own weight perfectly fine, four people was another matter. Even if two out of three were children and the other was smaller than them.

“Get off meh!” Cartman yelled as he began swatting at the pest with one of his hands, while the other held onto Scott. It wasn’t until it was too late that he felt the cotton fabric of his brother’s shirt slipping through his fingers and the mole man jumping back through the open window.

“AUGH!” Cartman screamed as plummeted several stories toward the ground.

“Eric!” The floating duo exclaimed in horror. Without much of a second’s thought, Scott soared down after him.

“SCOTT!” Cartman cried out to the same boy he had cursed only minutes before. The only hope he had of not crashing into the Earth’s tough exterior was that his half-brother could outrun gravity. As he passed floor after floor of the dreary lab, he clenched his eyes shut and held his breath, readying himself for the impact. It was only when he felt his brother’s arms around his waist that he opened his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

“Eric! Are you alright?” Butters asked, both conveying fear and relief.

“What the fuck were you thinking, you dipshit…” Scott scolded in a breathless voice. The seconds that passed felt like an eternity to Cartman as he stared silently at the two for a moment before resuming his sullen exterior.

“I’m fine, let’s go home.” In response, Scott simply nodded and began to fly back towards the brightly colored rows of houses in South Park.

“Thanks for taking us to the lab, Scott. Now I have my own accelerometer… Oh gosh Eric, I just remembered. My parents wanted me home before dinner time. I might get grounded for hanging out with you so late, even if it was to work on our science experiment,” the boy nervously thought aloud while his group partner merely gave him a puzzled look.

“Whatever Butters,” Cartman scoffed before glancing back up at the stone-faced teen. The brunette felt the older boy’s arms tightened around his waist and realized that he was still holding on to him with an iron grip that he refused to let him go.

“Hey Scott?”

“Huh,” the ginger turned his head towards the younger boy.

“Thank you… I know I don’t say that enough,” Cartman managed to muster, something that surprised even him considering he rarely showed gratitude to anyone, even his mom and “friends.” Nothing was spoken between the pair for several seconds until Cartman saw his brother crack a smirk.

“Heh,” the evil teen genius slightly chuckled, “no problem little brother.” Those were the only words exchanged between the two arch rivals for the rest of the night, even after they dropped Butters off and went home. What else was there to say?   

Chapter Text

Five ten year olds blankly stared at the t.v. as Cartman flipped through the channels for the third time since they arrived at his house. After their first week of summer vacation, they had run out of ways to spend their time that would normally be wasted by Mr. Garrison. 

“Dude! Pick something already! I’m getting nauseous from watching you change channels,” Kyle groaned.

“Shut it Jew,” said Cartman. “It’s not like we have anything better to do.” 

“Aw, cheer up fellers. At least we don’t have school until August,” said Butters. The blonde’s optimistic smile slowly faded away as he saw the opposite effect his words had on the scowling group. The heavy set child opened his mouth, ready to rip the happy go lucky boy a new one when a disheveled teen in pajamas walked into the room. 

“Do you assholes ever shut the fuck up,” Scott muttered through gritted teeth.

“Dude, did you just wake up? It’s 12:00,” said Kyle.

“I’m an insomniac, dipshit. You try losing both your parents and tell me if you have problems sleeping at night,” he said. “Whatever, now that I’m awake. I’m watching what I want,” Scott said before snatching the remote out of his younger brother’s hands.

“Aye!” Cartman angrily glared at the highschooler as he flipped to grainy footage of a monster truck rally. Scott plopped down onto the couch between Kyle and Stan and watched with glee as two monster trucks slamming into one another.

“Sweet…,” said the teen. 

“Dude, let’s go to Token’s house. Kids from his background are always doing cool stuff on Instagram,” said Stan. Kyle, Kenny, and Butters nodded in agreement, while Cartman continued to stare daggers at his nemesis.

“We will be right back to Mother Trucker right after this commercial break,” said a blonde news woman. “Right now, we have breaking news from a returning Channel 4 news anchor, Tom Pusslicker.” The boys watched in surprise as the long since missing brunette appeared on the screen.

“Thanks Tammy. It’s good to be back on the air after my long absence which will remain unexplained for personal reasons. I’m in Denver, Colorado where several musicians and bands are set to play Friday night at the three day long “Soundwave” music festival. I had a chance to interview one of the bands performing in this exclusive interview.”

“Oh boy, I hope it’s Chicago! ‘ If you leave me now, You’ll take away the biggest part of me ’…”

“Dude, shut up! I bet it’s going to be someone really lame and sucky like the Jonas Brothers or-” Cartman stopped mid-sentence when he saw the group on the t.v.

“I’m here with the members of Radiohead, Thom Yorke, Colin Greenwood, Johnny Greenwood, Ed O’Brien, and Phil Selway, to talk about Friday’s performance.” The boys quickly glanced at Cartman who dared not to make eye contact with any of them before cautiously turning towards the previous subject of the band’s torment. The only visible expression that could be seen on the teen’s face was complete and utter astonishment, the ginger’s face frozen in place with his mouth hung open and his eyes wide as saucers.

“Are you guys excited to see your Colorado fans,” Tom asked.

“Oh course, we love all our friends, well, except-,” said Thom.

“Except who?”  

“Fuuuccckkk” Cartman groaned, burying his face into his hands. Out of all the sinister acts committed by the supple sociopath, why did this one have to come back to bite him in the ass?

“About a year ago, we got a letter from this kid named Eric Cartman that said his friend, Scott Tenorman, had cancer in his ass and that we were his favorite. We felt really bad for the kid, so we went to South Park, Colorado to go see him before he died. When we got to South Park, however, we found out he was nothing but an uncool, little cryba-.” The rest of the British singer’s dialogue came out as unintelligible noise before the television short circuited and burst into flames, all around the t.v. remote lodged into the device’s glass screen. The ten years watch in horror as the previously catatonic teenager stood up from the couch in utter silence after committing such a violent act like it was nothing.

“I’m going to get dressed. Figure out what you’re going to need to bring with you to Denver, fatass,” said Scott before heading towards the basement door.

“Wait? You’re going,” asked the supple boy.

“No, we’re going.”   

The sounds of electronic doors and footsteps could be heard outside of the juvenile’s cell as he scrolled through his phone. If the guards knew he managed to snuck a phone into juvenile hall, he would be thrown into solitary confinement for sure. The child scrolled through his usual social media accounts before checking on the South Park news to make sure he knew what was going on outside of the “big house.” When the youth clicked on the link, however, the top story left him baffled.  

“What the Hell?”

The boy muttered not from the story’s caption, “Three Trespassers at Large After Breaking and Entering into South Park’s Genetic Engineering,” but from the police sketches including a red headed freckled teen, Jonah Hill, and a blonde cabbage patch doll. It only took the juvenile delinquent seconds to realize who each of the suspects were supposed to be before bursting into laughter, something the child only really got from beating up newbies for fun.

After a couple minutes of snickering to himself, it hit him. An epiphany so great, the adolescent ceased his chuckling and felt his chest swell as the hope inside his chest grew. The boy picked up his phone and punched in the number for the local police station.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe he’s making me go to that stupid concert!” Cartman growled from his seated position below Kyle’s MC Dreidel poster whilst the other boys sat scattered around Kyle’s room. 

“Dude, stop yelling or my mom might hear you,” Kyle responded from his swivel chair located right next to who else? Cartman. 

“I mean, so what if they called him a crybaby? It’s been a YEAR! Like, get over it already, you big vagina,” he continued to complain, too wrapped up in his indignation to stop.

“I bet you wouldn’t say that to his face,” Kenny snickered. Currently, he and Stan were seated on the young Jew’s bed. “Did you see that remote!? I bet it’s still stuck in the TV!” This comment made Kenny laugh even harder, triggering nervous laughter from Kyle and Stan who witnessed the terrifying ordeal.

The larger boy sat stone-faced as his anger began to wane. While he was fuming beneath the surface, desperate to spit out some half-assed retort about him not being scared of Scott or his reaction, he knew that was a bald-faced lie. When the fourth grader saw that lightweight plastic TV. remote jutting out of a screen now reduced to a bed of glass shards, the illusion disappeared. The idea that he had any sort of control over the teen was merely a facade, a sick joke of sorts. That being said, once he had witnessed what Scott was capable of when provoked, there was no way he would stay in the same house, never mind the same room as him. Even the young narcissist knew there was a difference between being brave and being suicidal.    

“Ah gee Eric, I don’t think Radiohead is that bad,” said Butters with a slight smile on his face. The blonde was the only one currently standing as he leaned against the bed frame at the foot of the bed. “I can go if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not about the concert, Butters,” said Stan. “It’s about…” Stan paused as he glanced over at Cartman. When the two made eye contact, the large boy snapped out of his thoughts to realize where this conversation was heading. He could feel his eye beginning to involuntarily twitch.  

“It’s about Radiohead making fun of him for crying even though it was fat tits’ fault,” Kyle replied. 

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Kahl,” Cartman muttered through his teeth. Of course, this Jew would bring THAT up, even after everything I told him , the sociopath thought, his anger seething under the surface.

“Well, well, well…if it isn’t the consequences of lard butt’s actions coming to bite him in his chubby ass,” Kyle scoffed. The longer the duo continued to exchange hateful glances, the more nervous Butters grew. The tension in the room grew so thick, that you needed an ax. Stan and Kenny, on the other hand, sighed in annoyance at the tired old routine between the pair.

“You know what Kahl?” Cartman crawled up from the floor and strode over to the day walker’s chair. “For a guy who likes to rip on me for my weight, you seem to forget about that circle with arms and legs that you popped out of.” The boy watched in glee as the smile slowly dropped off the other’s face, the look quickly replaced with scorn. 

“Cartman, don’t…”

“Oh, what? You can talk about me, but I can’t talk about that parrot nose, Jersey Shore trash, screeching banshee bitch with a cocoon sitting on her head. It’s been five years Kahl, when is that butterfly coming out?”

“Fuck you Cartman!” Kyle jumped out of his chair to grab Cartman only to trip over the other’s foot. 

“Gah!” Kyle stumbled as he reached his arms out to regain his balance. The obese boy did not fail to take notice of this as he did a 180° turn in place before swiftly kicking him in his behind, launching him into the wall.

“Woah!” A muffled voice exclaimed.

“Eric!” Butters gasped.

“Holy shit dude!” Stan blurted out. 

“Ugh,” Kyle moaned from against the wall. The redhead slowly lifted his head and glanced over his left shoulder to see his attacker smirking while the spectators continued to watch on in utter astonishment. 

“What? You thought after fighting a group of sixth graders that I would be too scared to fight you? That you could kick my ass,” said Cartman. 

Kyle’s body stiffened in hesitation before charging at his opponent. This time, the redhead threw a right hook which just barely missed Cartman’s head as he bent his knees. The boy barely had time to register his miss before feeling Cartman’s right hook connecting with his left side.

“Ah! Fuck,” Kyle groaned, the fourth grader grabbing his side as he slumped down to the gray carpet.

“Jesus Christ dude,” Stan said. He watched as his best friend who would normally punch Cartman in the face or grab him by his coat now writhing on the carpet in pain.

“Ha! Eric-1, Jew-0. Doesn’t feel so hot doesn’t it Kahl? The one thing I learned from fighting sixth graders is that there’s no such thing as a fair fi-AUGH!” Cartman grabbed his groin before collapsing to the floor next to Kyle.

“Oofs” could be heard from the other three boys who, despite having an obscured view, knew Cartman had just got kicked in the balls. Or in Cartman’s words, squa’ in the nuts.

“Don’t talk about my mom, you fat bitch,” Kyle groaned. If you had seen him, he looked barely conscious. 

“Don’t talk about me killing my dad or my weight. I’m not fat, I’m just big-boned,” Cartman whimpered, the boy wishing he was unconscious.

The other three watched as their friends remained crumpled on the floor in agony. They don’t know how long they would have remained that way until Kyle’s mom came barging into the room. 

“Kyle!” The large Jewish woman called out, not even bothering to knock first. “What are you doing lying on the floor?” Mrs. Broflovski turned to the other boys who looked as perplexed as she did. “Come on boys, we have to get ready for dinner. All the neighbors are going to Ms. Cartman’s house.”

“Huh!?” Cartman’s head bolted up from the carpet. “What party!?”

“It’s not so much a party as it is a gathering.” Mrs. Broflovski didn’t have to finish her sentence before the large boy had gotten up and began limping towards the door.

“I need to go help my myem get ready! I’ll see you later guys, Mrs. Broflovski!” With these words, the boy was out the door and heading towards his house. 

“Hmph? He wasn’t limping when he came over earlier,” Mrs. Broflovski pointed out. “From the way he was walking, you’d think he just got kicked in the balls.”