The Fall Of Eric Cartman

Oneshot

By: Rai-Child

Fandom: South Park

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of the characters.

Summary: "If you hate him so much, just don't go near him." And thus, the rebellion had begun. Oneshot.

Author's Note: Another South Park one! X3 I'm on a roll… I'd be the first to admit that this is pretty pointless, but I needed to write… Enjoy!

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Eric Cartman was running low on sinister cunning.

It was a little sad, really, being the evil genius that he was, that he couldn't have focussed his smarts into something a little more believable. Not that mad schemes over the must anticipated "TEN MILLION DOLLARS, YOU GUYS!" weren't productive, but in the real world, starting a boy band with four nine-year-olds and a girl, (which immediately defeated the purpose of a boy band), wasn't about to get you anywhere soon. Nor was waiting for obscenely rich relatives to die.

On top of that was the fact that he was swiftly running out of said obscenely rich relatives to kill.

If they won't die on their own soon enough, He had reasoned, may as well give them a push in the right direction... It hadn't been difficult, really. It was just a case of finding the loaded gun his mother often used to threaten her clients with, (he would never understand that one...), and setting off with Kenny in the car he talked him into stealing.

Talked... Threatened at gunpoint over...

Same difference.

It was only by the time they got to Denver that Cartman made a particularly horrible discovery.

Every single Cartman within reach was as poor as he was. Kenny had laughed. Cartman had taken the change he had stolen from the ashtray.

Thus, now dangerously close to dropping down in all of his classes, and more bored than he had ever been in his life, Cartman had made a list. He had always believed that lists were for the sad and/or extremely forgetful, but on this particular occasion, it seemed most appropriate.

The list was entitled...

'Evils to Unleash upon Kyle Broflovski.'

Cartman thought for a moment, tapping his pencil against his chin. After all, to be professional was everything.

'Evils to Unleash upon Kyle Broflovski.' By Eric Cartman. Much better.

And so he wrote, laughing like a madman and biting into his fifth donut. Kenny raised an eyebrow from his position on the floor, but turned back to the Terrence and Phillip show, completely uninterested. Maybe he should do a 'Stan 'n' Kyle' and leave the fatass to plot on his own.

Said fatass was finding that his diabolical plot in-the-making had one vital flaw...

Everything had already been done.

What...? He rescanned the paper, frowning and licking frosting from his lips. Perhaps he could have been safe in the knowledge that Kyle had suffered a particularly miserable fifteen years, maybe take a little, for the short but wonderful time he hadn't known Cartman. But no.

"Goddammit!"

"Wha? Run outta candy?"

"Shut it, poor boy!" He ignored the Craig-esque hand gesture Kenny shot in his general direction, instead gripping the chocolate-smudged paper with both fists.

Even if he did repeat each incident he had named, (it was eerie just how accurate he was, without even trying), there was also various, previously unseen issues that were suddenly surfacing. Where would the sweet, sweet panic be, if everything had happened before? Even if Cartman managed to pull one of these horrible pranks on Kyle, if it had been previously used, it would be easily sorted. Not that it was easy to get anywhere near Broflovski at the best of times; he had become wise to Cartman's malicious intentions ages ago...

Then there was Marsh.

"If you hate him so much, just don't go near him."

And thus, the rebellion had begun. Stan disliked Cartman for his own reasons, ranging from the time Cartman had Wendy dump him for the fifth time over the school's intercom, to all those stupid rumours he had spread. Something about Butters and the girls' changing room... Stan didn't even want to remember.

"We're gonna go hang out by ourselves." Kyle had said, before nodding in Kenny's direction. "Kenny can come too, of course." To Cartman's rage, McCormick had had the nerve to ditch him, going with Stan and Kyle to the Marsh's house to play video games.

Putting up with Shelley screaming 'TURDS!' down the stairs at them was much better than the crap Cartman came out with.

It was a pity Lianne had banned her son from having friends older than he was. The NAMBLA incident had not been easily forgotten, much to Cartman's dismay. It just made everything that little bit harder to deal with. Not everyone outside his age bracket knew what he was really like.

Being forced into having sex with old men would simply be a minor drawback.

He had caught on quickly that he would have to find people his own age to hang out with, or risk being completely on his own. He needed accomplices- useful accomplices. People he could manipulate to do his bidding.

Bebe and her small army of girls had tied him down and tried to paint his nails. Tried and succeeded.

Timmy had tried to run him over with his wheelchair. Again, tried and succeeded.

Tweek passed out after he told him he was actually an oversized gnome in disguise.

After Craig broke his nose for a) making fun of Red Racer, and b) making Clyde cry, (not that it was all too difficult, but kicking someone in his one remaining testicle is always a sure-fire winner), Cartman gave up. Kenny became his 'part-time associate', even though he was still labelled as poor trash and treated likewise.

No change there then.

It was only when Cartman flipped the paper over and the title altered slightly...

'Evils to Unleash upon Kenny McCormick.' ...That Kenny pulled out a variation of the much over-used line...

"Screw you, Cartman. I'm going home." Cartman smirked. He'd be back. Most likely to steal something from the fridge and watch the rest of Terrence and Phillip.

Kenny was the perfect Kyle. His logic was simple- if he killed the Jew, he'd be in for it. It'd be back to prison for life, smuggling cigarettes up his ass for the rest of his days. On the other hand, if he killed Kenny, no one would care. And he'd be back the next day, ready and waiting for it to happen again.

He gets killed on a weekly basis anyway- why should he care exactly who does the honours...?

Five seconds had passed. Cartman's eyes slid to the door, waiting for a blond head to peek around the frame, (minus the parka these days, as Kenny couldn't afford to keep buying new ones).

Seven seconds.

Ten.

Fifteen.

...A minute.

What the hell...? The front door was hanging open. Kenny hadn't even been bothered to shut it behind him.

It was at times like these that a certain theory was considered. Maybe the world just wasn't ready for Eric Cartman.

It was also at times like these that Cartman himself was adamant- the only things in life he could truly trust were chocolate, and a certain stuffed creature upstairs that went by the name of Clyde Frog...

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Fin. X3

Ally