Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this but I've been so very busy! Family vacations, moving, finishing up my TA work and starting up real work! How dare Real life get in the way! But I'm sure no one wants to hear about that! At the same time there's the fact that I've dragged my feet for months on the last three chapters of my other Kenny/Butters story?! _

Worst of all, it turns out this one-shot turned two-shot is now apparently a three-shot. This story has been most inconvenient and written itself longer. For those who wanted Butters…I know he's only in here a tinsy bit. Just hold out for the last chapter! Someone else get's to dominate this chapter instead. I couldn't just bring in Stan and Kyle without giving some face time to the other member of the fearsome foursome! Plus a little deviousness is key to get the rest of it working. Hope you enjoy!

"Chaos, panic, and disorder…my work here is done." ~Unknown

A Touch of Chaos - II

One normally doesn't consider getting 'so and so' drunk a difficult challenge. Especially not when 'so and so' is a guy in high school. Or your boyfriend. Or so trusting he would let you do all sorts of fun and embarrassing things to him with a pout or a wink. All of that together should have made the task easier than getting Cartman to ditch school for the Shaky's Pizza all-you-can-eat lunch buffet.

Unfortunately, nothing is ever as easy as it should be in South Park. Case in point, Shaky's Pizza bribed the truant officer to take his lunches at their restaurant for the explicit purpose of keeping Cartman, Cartmanez, or any of Eric's other aliases from ever taking advantage of their buffet. Apparently it was cheaper to give the truant officer free lunches every day, rather than risk one day of letting the fat-ass find out just how much pizza qualifies as 'all Cartman can eat.'

Like leading Cartman to unlimited food, how could anyone have guessed that getting Butters Stotch drunk fell under the same South Park magic of easy-turned-impossible. Filled with confidence at the ease of the task, Kenny had left Kyle's house to pick up a six-pack of beer from his dad's fridge. He wasn't even worried about getting caught with the theft. In spite of their intense poverty, the fridge always remained filled with cheap beer, so much that his father never noticed when Kenny or Kevin helped themselves. How his family could afford an endless supply of beer yet only stock their pantries with canned corn and pop tarts was another of those South Park conundrums.

All too soon Kenny was in Butters bedroom, receiving an over eager hug from his adoring boyfriend the second the door closed on the all too suspicious Mr. Stotch. After a bit of much needed making out, Kenny had slipped the beer out of his backpack with a mischievous grin. Trouble had followed almost immediately.

"N-n-no way Ken," even Butters had seemed a bit shocked at the vehemence of his refusal.

Kenny had of coursed pulled out all of his usual responses to 'n-n-no,' but somehow winks, pouts, pleading, peer pressure, even dirty promises were met with stubborn refusal. With a final huff of very unhappy defeat Kenny was reduced to a plaintive and almost whiny, "Why not?"

"B-b-because if I get drunk and my mom and dad find out I'll be grounded forever and ever. A-a-nd beer tastes gross. An' my dad says I'll get cirrhosis and my whole body will rot out if I ever get drunk. And alcohol just makes people do bad things! I don't wanna do bad stuff Ken!" The list ended with an almost plaintive look of worry on Butters face that cut the wind form Kenny's sails quite neatly.

The humor in Butters finally standing up to Kenny on something that just happened to be the corner stone to a plot to get Butters to stand up and take charge in the first place was completely lost on the frustrated Kenny. Kenny was far too busy grumbling unhappily as he slipped the beer back in his backpack unopened. He fell on the bed with a most dissatisfied 'thump.' He would have proceeded to indulge in a bout of pouting if Butters hadn't curled up to his side and asked if he was 'mad.' It took an hour of indulgent and attentive cuddling to convince Butters that he wasn't angry at him for saying no. During this time Kenny's mind was reviewing the list of reasons. He was determined to find a way around them. This ended up being easier for some than others.

Beer tastes gross? Kenny could work with that, after all there were dozens of sweet drinks that he was sure Butters would find tasty. One night of getting drunk causing cirrhosis? That was just a typical 'Mr. Stotchism,' like an assortment of others such as 'kissing boys causes aids,' and 'skipping a class will make you retarded.' Kenny had faced those obstacles before and solved them easily enough by bringing in Kyle to play 'expert,' and explain that Mr. Stotch was stretching the truth. No, Timmy had not been a regular boy before missing a day of math class once in second grade. No, Cartman got his aids from a blood transfusion and gave it to Kyle the same way with needles.

A bit of pleading on Monday and a reminder that it had been Kyle's idea to begin with would secure the Jew's help. Yes, alcoholism causes cirrhosis, but it takes years and years of heavy drinking, not one night. Kyle might not personally be a fan of underage drinking anymore than skipping class, but he was a firm believer in 'informed decisions,' not the insane scare tactics of the Scotches.

But the other two reasons on Butters list were more difficult. Butters would never do something that might make him behave like a terrible person. Not willingly anyway. And it was true alcohol did sometimes bring out the worst in people. Hell Kenny was counting on it in this case. His other complaint was equally viable. Getting around the Stotches themselves was far harder than undermining their outright lies. Hiding a drunk Butters from his parents would be quite a challenge, especially with the harsh rules he lived under. Butters had to be home by a certain time every night, to submit to a rather strict inspection by his parents before bed. Likewise they were opposed to sleepovers and forbade parties. They were also increidbly suspicious of that unsavory 'Kenny' kid and his friends by association. Something had convinced them he was a bad influence on Butters. As if! Well ok, so he was trying to get him drunk…and had taken his virginity….and got him to skip class every now and then. But really, they didn't know about any of that so they had no reason to be so suspicious. It was very rude and untrusting of them.

After a few days of worrying over those two obstacles, Kenny resigned himself to the unfair fact that life was conspiring against him yet again. Getting Butters drunk wouldn't be an easy task after all. Not even a challenging task. This might fall under the category of 'nigh improbable, nay impossible.' Of course if life was going to be unfair, then Kenny could be unfair as well. This was why he was currently standing in front of the waitress at Shaky's Pizza.

"Aren't you two supposed to be in school?" had been the woman's response the instant he'd stepped through the door.

Kenny grinned weakly at the woman as he tried to remember what he'd been told to say. Behind him his date elbowed him sharply.

"Oh, um…well…you see…I get to leave for the second half of school to work. 'Cause I'm so poor," Kenny gritted his teeth at his 'lines' but endured. It was all untrue of course, but his accomplice assured him that poor people did it all the time. And everyone knew that Kenny's family was the poorest around.

Unbelievably the woman nodded in acceptance of the excuse before motioning behind Kenny.

"And your friend?" the woman asked.

"She's my…uh….date," Kenny replied weakly. "Obviously she's poor too, since she's my girlfriend." It was a very damned good thing Kenny needed help so badly or he'd have already turned around, punched his date in the gut and stormed out. He was starting to see red when yet again the waitress accepted the insulting and incredibly biased logic. Instead he ground his teeth together and tried to make it look like a smile.

"Does she have a problem answering for herself," the woman replied still a bit suspicious.

Kenny froze a moment. There'd been no preparation for that question. Fortunately he thought of a good answer and for the first time that day a genuine smirk slipped across his face.

"Her throat's sore. Since she's poor she works the streets at night," Kenny added with a knowing wink. "Her mom's a huge whore, picked the habit up from her."

Behind him a muffled 'hey,' of outrage slipped out and a fairly meaty fist punched him just out of sight of the waitress. Kenny ignored the pain with a smile. So worth it.

The waitress's eyebrows rose in complete shock at the crass statement, but at least it got her to stop asking questions. With a very uncomfortable nod she showed them to a table. Kenny slumped into his with relief and across from him his date flopped down heavily. He tried not to groan when his date scratched herself in a place most girls didn't touch themselves at in public.

"What will you two have to drink," the waitress asked as she did her best not to stare rudely at Kenny's date.

"I'll have a Coke," Kenny replied automatically. A long pause ensued and Kenny realized the waitress was still staring at him. When he looked across the table he also saw that his date was glaring at him. Suddenly he remembered his sore throat excuse and that he had to answer for 'her,' as well. "Oh, yeah…um she'll have a Diet coke. She's watching her figure."

The entire table jumped as a sharp kick hit Kenny in the shins and slammed his knee upward. Still worth it, Kenny thought as he grinned through yet more pain. The waitress hastily retreated from the table to get away from the weird couple.

Across the table his date watched the waitress leave before leaning across the table and growling angrily in a hushed voice.

"God damnit it Kenny. You shut up about my mom. And you're giving me your Coke. Who drinks fucking Diet? It tastes like watery shit."

"Whatever you say, Erica dear," Kenny replied sarcastically. "I just can't believe she bought your disguise."

"Whatevah! I knew it would work," 'Erica' Cartman said with a derisive snort. "I was more afraid she'd be suspicious about a faggot like you having a girlfriend as hot as me."

"Faggot? I've slept with way more girls than you have. Besides you're the one who's dressed up as a girl."

'Erica' Cartman frowned thoughtfully as 'she' considered the logic of that statement. Rather than admit defeat, 'she' dismissed the entire thing by stomping off to the buffet. Kenny tried not to shudder at the way the top of the hot pink skirt was covered by hanging stomach flab and the bottom revealed way too much thigh and ass. Where had Cartman even found a short skirt in his size? More importantly …WHY had Cartman picked a short skirt to begin with?!

Cartman reached the buffet, piling slice after slice of pizza on his plate. At one point he had to lean over to get even more pizza after clearing all the stuff on his side. Seeing what was coming Kenny averted his eyes. Judging from the loud gagging sounds some other poor diner hadn't been so quick to look away and gotten several eyefuls of Cartman's bulging panty-covered ass. When Cartman turned to head back to the table Kenny took a very quick, stealthy picture with his cellphone. It was a glorious image to have on record. 'Erica,' sashayed back to the table oblivious to the queasy looking customers rapidly signaling for a waitress as he sauntered past their tables. Kenny tried to force his face to something friendly and not repulsed as he watched his date adjust her leopard print half-shirt and ridiculous black wig into something more presentable. It was a horrid disguise to begin with, made only worse when Cartman reached his seat and began scarfing down pizza slices in a most un-ladylike manner. Surreptitiously, Kenny checked his cell to see if the picture had taken. The image would be worth months of blackmail if he didn't sell it outright to Kyle outright for his bag of Jew gold. Kenny smirked at the thought of what he could do with that money before he pushed the thoughts aside with a regretful sigh. He reminded himself that he couldn't sell the image. He needed the fat-asses help after all. Speaking of which.

"So, about my problem with Butters…" Kenny began leadingly.

"Not now! I don't want to talk about that fag while I'm eating," Cartman muttered around a mouthful of food.

Kenny glowered and leaned in ominously. He swatted Cartman's hand away from the plate to get his full attention.

"First, don't ever call Butters a fag, fat-ass," Kenny threatened. Once he was sure the message had come across he softened the menace with a joke, "Secondly, if I wait till you're done eating, we'll both be in our sixties."

Cartman opened his mouth to deliver a vicious retort of his own, but started coughing instead and looked down at his plate demurely. Surprised at the reaction, Kenny fell back into his seat when the waitress set their drinks down on the table. Kenny schooled his angry look into something more pleasant as he thanked her for the drinks. She left quickly, tossing more odd looks over her shoulders at them.

"Nice going poor piece of shit. You almost blew our cover," Cartman growled.

"Please, if anything blows our cover, it'll be you when your shirt explodes. Why in hell did you stuff your bra so much anyway? Your fake boobs are straining that thing."

Cartman's face turned violently red and his reply was a weak mumble.

"What'd you say, Erica?" Kenny said sarcastically as he leaned in.

"I said I didn't stuff, I just put on a bra," Cartman responded red faced.

"Dude!? You mean those are your man boobs," Kenny tried not to laugh, feeling immensely better about the suffering he'd endured so far that day. God I wish I could tell Kyle about this. He'd kill to hear about Cartman's moobies.

"Shut your goddamned mouth, Kenneh!" Cartman shouted. Realizing he had the full attention of the restaurant, Cartman started coughing harshly again, before burying his face in his pizza.

For his part, Kenny struggled to hide his mirth while he sat back to let Cartman finish his meal in peace. You need his help, Kenny's inner conscience sternly reminded him when he started to get impatient again. And it was very true. Carman had the two skills he needed at this moment in time. Cartman had time and time again convinced Butters that 'bad things,' weren't that bad. That included sacrificing himself to over a dozen men of NAMBLA, shooting cops, harassing the Chinese, and threatening to blow up a hospital. Equally important, Cartman could manipulate the adults of South Park with disarming ease. That included the Stotches, who in spite of his many atrocities against their son, still considered the fat jerk one of the 'good kids.'

It was only because of those two skills that Kenny was willing to put up with such a pleasant lunch date with Cartman. Their usual interactions were far less cordial, back and forth insults for a few minutes before someone walked off in a huff. It might seem odd behavior for kids who were supposedly the best of friends, but in this case it was absolutely necessary for the friendship. No one could stay Cartman's buddy if they didn't have a high threshold for aggravation and an ingrained ability to just 'walk away.'

Kenny had developed a thick skin ages ago, learning to tolerate Cartman simply because there was no other choice. Friends by default, you could say, if such a thing existed. Even when younger, Stan and Kyle were so tight even their closest friends felt like third wheels. And over time Cartman just became something you had to get used to, like a tumor that was malignant and couldn't be removed safely, but wouldn't kill you outright. A two hundred and eighty pound tumor that was greedy, racist, and rude on a good day. Yet this tumor had his uses. Especially when it came to convoluted schemes. Emphasis on the convoluted part. Perhaps because of that easy-turned-impossible quality of South Park, Cartman had developed a talent for finding very strange ways to get from point A to point B. Of course he usually did this by taking you through points C, Q, and X. But what mattered was that his plans actually worked most of the time. Granted there was always trouble with them, sometimes a scandal, and on the rare occasion casualties. And as the most common casualty of Cartman's schemes Kenny had good reason to steer clear of them normally. Of course I have to risk it this time. When it comes to getting Butters to come around, Cartman is the best.

During Kenny's inner argument with himself, as he pondered yet again his friendship with Cartman and the shaky wisdom of seeking the jerk's help, 'Erica' continued assaulting the pizza buffet. Kenny returned to reality only when a loud slam signaled Cartman's angry return from his third trip to the bar. Before Kenny had a chance to ask just what was wrong, Cartman pointed to his plate angrily.

"What the hell? How slow do those bitches cook? We've been here ten minutes and those god damn lazy ho's haven't put anything fresh out. All you can eat? There were only three pizza's up there when we got in." Cartman reached onto his plate, picking up the single tiny piece of cheese pizza that had survived his last two trips. He brandished it at Kenny, the piece dangling as he gestured with it. "They better put more fuckin' pizza out soon. I'll starve if this is all I have to eat." No mention was made of the three pizzas that Cartman had demolished already before being left with the single slice.

The first reaction to the very idea of Cartman starving was to snort out loud. Thankfully Kenny suppressed it, instead adopting a business like manner. He leaned forward across the table and tried to look serious as he tried to return Cartman's attention to their deal. While the poor staff was desperately attempting to restock the pizza bar there'd be no chance of the fat-asses enormous appetite distracting him.

"So while you're stuck waiting…about Butters," Kenny began.

"God Kenny," Cartman rolled his eyes, "Why do you have to keep bringing that fa-" he stopped mid sentence at the glare from Kenny. Wisely he instead consumed the small slice of pizza in a single bite. While he chewed he continued, looking not the least bit contrite. "Whatevah. He is one or he wouldn't let you fuck him. Don't see what 's the difference between calling him a homo, ass pounder, or a fa-."

"Cartman…" Kenny could feel his face heating up in irritation as his tone turned sharp in warning yet again.

"Jesus! Get the sand out of your vagina and take a joke! When did you decide to be the pussy in the relationship?" Cartman grumbled in irritation.

Kenny felt the flush turn a bit darker and he hoped Cartman assumed it was still anger and not embarrassment. He had no intention of ever telling Cartman why he wanted to get Butters to drink. Even Kenny couldn't handle the kind of teasing he'd suffer if Cartman ever found out that he wanted Butters to be the 'man,' every now and then. Quickly he tried to push the topic of drinking back into the conversation before Cartman's inner asshole realized there was more to this than trying to get his boyfriend to loosen up.

"So have you thought of how I can get around the objections Butters has?"

"Easy," Cartman replied with a snort. "You'll need rope, a funnel, some tubes, and a clothespin to keep his nose closed."

"Cartman! The deal was to get him to drink without hurting him," Kenny growled.

"How will that hurt him? Except for the tying him down part, frats do this stuff all the time in movies. Tell him the ropes part of bondage, then tell him to close his eyes, shove the tube in and pour the beer into the funnel. He'll let you put anything in his mouth if you tell him it's a surprise, trust me I know."

This time it was Cartman's turn to grit his teeth through pain at the sharp kick to his leg under the table.

"What the Hell Kenneh?" Cartman replied angrily as tears formed in his eyes.

"You know what happens if you bring up the shit you used to do to him," Kenny replied as evenly as he could manage. It was one of those quirks of thief friendship that was necessary for smooth sailing. Walking away from Cartman shouting insults about poor ghetto trash was easy. Walking away from Cartman insulting his boyfriend was a very different matter. So he'd worked out a system, Cartman went too far and Kenny would hit him. It did a lot to ease Kenny's aggravation, but made little impression on Cartman's overall behavior. Cartman sported a new bruise at least once a week from crossing the 'Butters line,' with Kenny in conversation.

Cartman muttered angrily again but didn't storm away. Kenny relaxed as Cartman's face lost the pout and returned to pensive. Like Kenny, he'd learned long ago just to tolerate certain things for the sake of having a friend. Even if it was a friend-by-default. He wouldn't change his behavior, god knows that was impossible. But he could ignore some of the consequences of his actions, such as the shooting pain in his leg where the poor shit had kicked him.

"I got it," Cartman finally spoke up again a devious smirk on his face, "I'll grab some freshmen and cover them with purple spots. Then we'll make sure he sees them in school. Next we arrange a fake announcement in school about the deadly Grape-aloma virus which is only treatable by drinking beer. Then you sneak up to his room in the middle of the night and dye him purple too. You'll have to hold him back from charging to the liquor store and drinking the place dry to cure himself the next day."

"Dude," Kenny rubbed his temple in irritation. "There's so much wrong with that. First, were not going to scare him and make him think he's dying. Second, you can't get the freshman to along without threatening them, and were not hurting people! Lastly you could never get away with faking another school announcement. The principal hid the intercom system controls after what you did last year."

Cartman grinned fondly a moment, recalling the how he'd gotten everyone in the school to hide under their desks for half a day afraid of a nuclear assault, just so he wouldn't have to deal with lines during lunch on Fajita Friday. Then he returned to thinking, irritation slipping back across his face at having to think up yet another plan.

"So I can't hurt him and I can't scare him?" Cartman whined.

Kenny only nodded.

"God, just tie my fucking hands why don't you," Cartman grumbled.

"Come on asshole, think," Kenny grumbled right back, "Can't you just once come up with an idea that doesn't end up hurting anyone?"

"What's the fun of that?" Cartman asked letting genuine confusion enter his voice.

"The point is about to be me leaving the restaurant. But not before I go over and ask the waitress to take a closer look at my date."

"OK. Ok. No need to get serious," Cartman growled. "I got it," he added a minute later. There was none of the usual amusement he showed when discussing his convoluted schemes. Kenny considered this a good sign. If the plan wasn't exciting to Cartman hopefully fewer innocent lives were going to be ruined.

"And…" Kenny began after a bit of silence. Cartman was unusually reluctant to discuss his plan, another good sign.

"So you just have to get him to go to a party," Cartman started. Kenny was about to list the problems with that but Cartman raised his hands to forestall the objections. "I know, I know. His parents don't let him go to parties, but that's easy to get around. Just remove the Stotches from the picture and he'll be able to stay out as late as he wants."

"We're not going to kidnap his parents," Kenny replied. Unlike his earlier complaints though, this one was only half felt. Kenny couldn't deny that there was a certain appeal to the idea of tormenting the Stotches. Unfortunately for Kenny, for once in his horrific life Cartman wasn't involving violence and criminal activity in his plan.

"I know that you dumb ass piece of ghetto shit. Just shut you're mouth and let me finish."

Kenny ignored the insults easily as he clammed up and let Cartman finish.

"I'll take care of his parents," Cartman began. "And I won't fuckin' hurt them or anything. I'll just give them a reason to leave town for the weekend. I'll tell my mom I feel bad for Butters being stuck home alone. She'll be so touched about how much I care that she'll rush right over and tell them that Butters can stay at my house while they're gone. Friday night I'll tell Butters I'm going to the party at Tokens."

"But he won't go, I've already asked him to go and he said -" Kenny started before a pudgy hand raised to signal him to shut up.

"I know his freak ass parents told him he can't go to parties. But they'll also be telling him he has to stick with me if he's not staying at his house. It's a catch 22; no matter what he does he'll have to break one of their rules. And I'll make sure he chooses to go to the party."

"How do you know he'll pick the party?"

Cartman scoffed. "Dude, I got him to sneak away from the field trip at Pioneer Village and spend the day at Super Phun Thyme because he wasn't willing to break the 'don't let go of you're buddies hand,' rule. Trust me, I have experience with Butters in these kind of situations. He'll break the rule I want him too."

"Without threats?" Kenny reminded Cartman.

"As if I'd waste 'em," Cartman waved dismissively. "Guilt works hella better on Butters than threats ever did."

Kenny felt a little queasy at that comment and Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Don't get squeamish on me. I'll play nice. I'll just make him realize that if he lames out, I'll have to stay home and miss the awesome party. Then I'll go on about how I never get to go to parties and cry a little and say we can stay if he really wants us too." Cartman grinned evilly. "I have no idea why, but he'll totally believe me. As if I'd ever miss a fucking party to hang out with that lame f-" Kenny leaned across the table ominously and Cartman abruptly skipped the last part of his comment, speeding onward to the end of his explanation. "Ah…*cough*…anyway he'll feel so bad that he'll practically drag me to the party."

Kenny grimaced, but couldn't outright complain. As far as Cartman schemes went it was pretty tame so far. Better than he thought it would be actually. Except that it only solved the problem of getting Butters to a party and removed the obstacle of his parents finding him drunk. It still did nothing to get Butters to actually drink.

"So what happens when he gets there?"

"I'll take care of the rest dude. You just keep your distance at the party. Be happy to see him, and then go hang out with Stan and Kyle and be friendly with everyone like you always do at these parties. He'll stick close to me at first and I'll work my magic. Trust me; he'll be pounding drinks before the nights half over. Then he'll be smashed and I'll tell him I don't feel comfortable with my mom seeing him like that. He'll be so scared of being caught out being drunk he'll agree to go straight to his home instead. Then you just swoop in offer to walk him there like the bleeding heart pussy of a boyfriend you are…and bam," Cartman hit the table to emphasize his conclusion. "You get to take him home and do whatever sick things it is he won't let you do while he's sober."

"It's not like that," Kenny started blushing furiously, "I just wa-"

"Dude," a fat hand forestalled anymore from Kenny, "I really don't want to know what kind of shit your going to do to him once he's tanked. Don't care either. It'll be his fault for trusting you in the first place."

Kenny shut his mouth before he confessed to clear his image. In the end he decided he'd rather Cartman believed he was doing this for perverted reasons rather than the real ones. Instead he dragged back to the single part of the plan Cartman was being vague on.

"So, how are you going to convince him to drink at the party?"

"Leave that to me," Cartman said with a wave. "If you know what's going on you'll blow the whole thing. Also don't hover over him like you do at school. I need space to work. Just be yourself, except don't be all faggy over Butters." Abruptly Kenny's face darkened again as he aimed another blow at Cartman for crossing the line. Cartman dodged the kick shouting back defensively, "I called you faggy not Butters, that's allowed."

Kenny grudgingly stopped trying to hurt Cartman, giving a curt nod at the technicality Cartman had snuck under. Still he kept his serious and threatening face on. There was something bothersome about leaving Butters alone at a party with Cartman. Kenny wasn't going to take that kind of chance without assurances.

"So you promise you won't scare or hurt him?"

"Don't you trust me?" Cartman said with an air of mock innocence that convinced Kenny that Cartman was planning on cheating to get Butters to drink. He was undoubtedly going to resort to his usual underhanded tactics, perhaps even force the beer down trusting Butters throat the second Kenny wandered away at the party. He reached into his pocket deciding he needed to tip the scales and force Cartman to play nice.

"No, I don't trust you. Luckily, I don't have to," Kenny replied. He flashed his cellphone, showing Cartman the image of Erica sashaying back to the table from the pizza buffet. "If you do cross the line, this gets sent to Kyle. Call it insurance."

Cartman lunged across the table for the cellphone but Kenny quickly returned it to his pocket.

"Da fuck Ken?! Delete that picture right now!"

"Not until Saturday morning," Kenny stubbornly refused. "Even if it doesn't work I'll delete it. But only if you keep to our agreement. No threats, no scare tactics, and you don't hurt him. You manipulate him as nicely as you can."

"Fuckin' A Kenneh! You're breaking my balls here!"

Cartman was about to lunge again for the phone when the argument was forestalled by the waitress fumbling towards the buffet, laden with fresh, steaming pizzas. Cartman froze a second, hunger and anger warring for control of his pudgy face. It was a short lived battle, Cartman finally giving in to hunger and resigning himself to the sad fact that he'd have to actually keep his promise. Cartman stood up and angrily stormed off to the buffet. He'd actually have to play fair for once and that meant it'd be a lot harder to get Butters to do what he wanted. Clearly he would need to eat lots of brain food to help.

Meanwhile Kenny tried to blame the churning in his stomach on the disgusting site of Eric eating and not the sense of foreboding that Cartman's schemes always instilled in him. He turned away from the sick display of both the fat-asses body straining at the girly clothes and the pizza being shoveled into Cartman's gaping maw. Unfortunately this left him staring out a window yet again, something he'd been doing all too often as of late. For the rest of the meal Cartman continued his relentless march to and from the buffet until the moment the Shaky's Pizza manager announced an end to their lunch buffet an hour early. Apparently a frantic cook had just informed him that they'd used up an entire weeks worth of dough and sauce.

While Cartman began digesting Shaky's profits for the month, Kenny realized that he was right back to where he had been Sunday. I'm still stuck watching the grass grow and worrying. I can't believe I'm unleashing Cartman on Butters. Still I have the picture and the plan seems fair. What's the worst that could happen?