Through the Cracks

Last of all, Cartman emerged from the building. He never figured out what had become of his pants. Like hell I'm asking that banshee-male. Not my fault she's got sand in her fake vagina. The crisp air bit into his legs. He was not ready to give up on getting that confession out of Butters, but the plan would have to wait until after he had a chance to go home and warm up. It was a hot chocolate kind of day.

The streets were quiet, but Cartman received several stares and one double-take from people he passed as he walked home. When he turned down his street, he could see several of the boys building snow forts in Stan's front yard. The promise of hot chocolate would have stopped him from bothering them, but he caught Clyde gawking at him before saying something to Jimmy. "Those dickholes are talking about me!"concluded Cartman, appalled. The chill in his lower body was immediately forgotten. Priorities. Jimmy and Clyde continued working on their snow cannon, not stopping until they heard heavy footsteps approaching. "Ay!"

The boys turned to see Cartman's stony glare in stark contrast to the gaudy pink triangle barely concealing him down below. The sight gave Jimmy mental whiplash, and a slight snicker escaped. "Wha-wh-wh-what's up, Eric?"

"I don't know. Apparently Clyde has something to say." Cartman waited for Clyde to beg for forgiveness.

The boy looked at Jimmy, then back at Cartman. "What?"

Not getting answers, Cartman kicked his way through the boys' snow cannon, demolishing it. "If you wanna talk shit, you can say it to my fucking face!"

Other boys dropped what they were doing and gathered to see what was happening. Clyde surveyed the damage to his work and asked, "What did I do?"

"Quit playing dumb. I saw you looking at me, all like: 'Whoa, Jimmy. That Eric Cartman got caught wearing banned underwear and got dry humped by Butters. What a douche!'" Cartman imitated Clyde's voice and leaned in close to Jimmy for dramatic emphasis.

Clyde, still at a loss, tried to put the matter to rest. "When I saw you, all I said was you had to be really cold."

"See, Cartman, he wasn't talking shit about you." Stan tried to smooth things over, knowing full well that Cartman let no insult, not even an imaginary one, go unpunished. "Why don't you go put some pants on, and then you can play snow wars with us if you want." Nearby, Kyle and a few other boys made faces of disapproval, but kept their mouths shut.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The boy's exposed legs were pink from the cold, but his face was red hot. Even a simple suggestion made his blood pressure skyrocket when he was in this mood. "Are you scared? Scared that Garrison was right?"

"No!" shouted several of the boys. Kenny was silent. He knew otherwise.

"Just get lost," droned Craig.

Cartman took a step towards the fort Stan had built with Kenny and Kyle. Stan still wanted to reason with the unreasonable. "What we mean is, Mrs. Garrison sometimes…"

(Garrison is right.) Kenny interrupted. (The thong was taking control of Butters. He couldn't hold back from giving Cartman his money. That's why our dads spend so much money at titty bars. At least, mine does.)

Proudly, Cartman asserted, "You see? You guys better be kewl to me."

"Wait a minute," Token wondered. "If thongs turn people into drooling morons who throw away all their money, why was only Butters affected?"

(Because it has to be… oh.) Kenny stopped himself. Because it has to be someone you would bang. Jesus, Butters.

"It h-has to be what? S-s-spit it out ah… spit it out eh… s-spit it out aaalready!"

Kenny's brain raced to make something up. (Because it has to be… aimed at you. It's like a heat-seeking missile.)

The boys were quiet. Clyde couldn't hold his questions in any longer. "I'm still confused. Is it like crack or is it like a missile?"

"I know what's going on here." Kyle pointed an accusing finger at Cartman. "You were trying to trick Butters into telling us some sick story that you made up. Well, you can forget it because nobody wants to see that!"

"You don't want me to put my pants on, do you, Kahl?" He feigned empathy, but having so little experience with those feelings, his acting was poor. "I know how hard it is for the skinflint Jew to part with his money, so I'll let you do something else for me. It involves you, your uncle, and a video camera…"

Kyle was constantly shifting to keep Cartman out of his line of sight, but the larger boy kept chasing Kyle's attention, kept rambling about his demands. Now, Kyle spoke, his moral crisis turning on its head. He marched up to Cartman. "I am sick and tired of you forcing yourself on everyone! You deserve a kick in your crack pipe."

Hearing the threat emboldened Cartman. Adrenaline surged through him, filling him with a cocktail of anger and excitement. "Go ahead, Kahl. You must be dying to smoke some of this crack." He backed into Kyle and brushed his bare skin against Kyle's crotch.

"Get off me, fatass!" Without hesitation, Kyle pushed Cartman as hard as he could, knocking him face first into the heaps of snow. The disgusted boy followed up on his promise and kicked Cartman squarely in the rear.

On the ground, Cartman pushed himself onto his hands and knees, spitting. "I'm not fat; I'm big-boned!" Cartman intended to sound matter-of-fact, but he was losing control, and his voice spiraled off into a whine. "And even if I was fat – which I'm not – I could get a perfect six-pack, and Clyde here would still be a human septic tank."

When Mr. Mackey had made an announcement about Clyde's colostomy over the PA system, Clyde had visions of himself being the next Cory Duran, mocked into desperate suicide. It hadn't turned out that way, not for this likeable boy. Having best friends like Craig and Token didn't hurt either. The two boys stood close by. "You're unbelievable, asshole," Craig hissed without moving, except for raising his middle finger. His steely eyes were fixed on Cartman.

Feeling more confident, Clyde commented, "You couldn't get a six-pack. And you'd still be a closet case, anyway."

"Shut your goddamn mouth, shitbag!" Cartman screamed, leaning into Clyde's face and poking him in the side. Instinctively, Clyde's hands shot up to cover his pouch, just in case Cartman tried anything.

Before Cartman's sadistic streak could reveal itself, Token leapt in between and socked him. "Put one fat finger on him again and those nasty panties will be so far up your ass you'll get cut in fucking half!" Cartman clutched his face and staggered backwards before falling to his knees.

"I think it's happening already," Craig observed, pointing out how deeply the waistband was embedded into Cartman's sides. As the chubby boy inventoried his face for injuries, Craig reached out and grabbed a tight fistful of the flesh that spilled over. The other boys reacted with shouts of laughter and disgust.

"Oww!" Cartman wailed, smacking uselessly at Craig's hand. "You guys are so jealous! I can wear what I want, and I look good doing it."

The boys' laughter intensified. "I think his ass is hungry."

"Yeah, it's eating those poor underwear!"

(You took all the sexy out of those, man.)

"Damn straight, Kinny! I took more sexy out of them than any of you could!" To prove it, Cartman struck poses to show off his physique. But he convinced no one, not even himself.

Kyle wasn't sure whether Cartman was twisting the words into compliments to protect himself, or whether he truly believed it was meant as flattery. "'Damn straight?' You look damn gay!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"For someone who isn't gay, you put a whole lot of stuff in your ass!" Kyle was doing the math. "Anal probe, cigarettes, food, his finger…"

(And Kyle's finger…) Kenny added, smirking at the memory.

"Gross, dude!" Kyle shuddered. "He really wanted me to."

"And now, th-this. Tell me Eric, do you want Butters to p-p-push in your stool for you, very much?"

"Shut up!" Tears burned in Cartman's eyes. This was not part of his plan. Not at all. "I can't help it if I look hot wearing a thong. I don't like putting things in my ass, I don't, I don't!" He shook his fists, looking defeated.

"Livin' a lie, Timmy!"

Kyle threw his arms up in the air. "Why are you being such a pussy, Cartman? You couldn't have thought this was a good idea." The way he's denying it, I bet he'll grow up just like Garrison. Only fatter.

"Yeah, you said worse stuff about Butters yesterday," Stan chided. Stan would have been lying if he said he didn't find it amusing to see Cartman getting ripped on this time. Craig, Token, Jimmy, and Kyle pummeled Cartman with the barrage of snowballs intended for their game. Clyde, Tweek, and Timmy watched, eyes wide. But Stan studied the other boy's face and saw just how hard Cartman was trying to keep himself together. The boy's lip was in his mouth. He was trembling all over now; whether it was from cold or embarrassment, Stan couldn't be sure. This is going too far. He's still my friend, kind of. Stan put a hand on Kyle's shoulder, trying to pull him back from Cartman, back to his senses. "Come on. I think he gets the message."

"Oh no." Kyle insisted, "This happens all the time. He does something retarded, we call him on it, and then the second he acts upset, you go, 'That's enough. He gets it.' If he gets it, then why does he keep screwing with people?"

(Yeah. And Butters has enough problems without that fat fuck making things worse.) Kenny had lost track of time, but took notice of the darkening sky. Butters! I better make sure he's okay. (Sorry guys, I gotta go home.)

"Right now?" asked Kyle.

(Yeah. I need to shit again. See ya!) He ran across the street without waiting for the other boys to return his goodbye.

Stan shook his head. "Wow, Kenny's got some major diarrhea today." A wail broke through the chatter. Stan and Kyle looked to see Cartman lying in a fetal position, snowball residue sticking to his coat and hat. He was whimpering; his eyes were squeezed shut. "What happened?" Stan asked the boys gathered around Cartman's quivering form.

"We asked Eric if his vagina and boobs were getting cold, and he told us to suck his balls," Clyde began. "So Craig kicked him."

Candid as ever, Craig concluded, "I guess he has balls after all."

"I told you," groaned Cartman, "it's really cold out!" Stan cast a concerned eye over Cartman, especially the redness in his legs. He reached to help Cartman up, but Cartman waved his arms to protect himself. "Don't fucking touch me!" For a second, Cartman's eyes locked with Stan's. The boy on the ground tried to hide the tears on his cheeks.

"Cartman, you need to go home before you freeze," warned Stan, trying to be helpful.

Jimmy commented, "He c-c-c-can't freeze. His blubber keeps him warm so he can show off his 'whale tail'."

Wobbling to his feet, Cartman left as quickly as he could, favoring his tender places. He didn't look back. They might have still been laughing; he couldn't tell if it was laughter from before ringing in his ears. It wasn't far to the house where he counted on his mother to be waiting, ready to scoop him up and make it all better. But patience was not one of Cartman's strengths. So they would hear him cry. What more could they do?