Through the Cracks

Cartman put his tools away. Bud still groaned through clenched teeth. The boy sat on the edge of the bed to survey his finished work. "Not bad for my first try. Best of luck explaining that to the wife-and-former-sweetheart."

Hearing this, Bud dared to hope that he would live to see Nellie again. By now, even the thought of explaining to his wife a tattoo labeling him for his basest impulse sounded pleasant. "That's it? You're… letting me go?"

"I'm going to cut these off, if that's what you mean," Cartman replied, pointing at the zip ties.

"Ah, thank God." Cartman retrieved a small knife from his coat pocket and sat on the bed again, looking at it. He waited, feeling Bud's anxious eyes on him. Finally, Bud spoke. "You are gonna let me go, right?"

"Not quite. You see, I have recorded all the fun you've been having tonight on my Wellington Bear video camera. If you show your sorry ass around here again, this video will be all over the Internet."

"Oh—" Bud started, but Cartman interrupted.

"And if you're thinking of kidnapping me and killing me in some kind of sex dungeon under your garage, those videos will upload automatically." In the condescending voice Bud used to control Butters, Cartman added, "On the other hand, if you go to jail, you'll get to have all the butt sex you want."

There was silence as Bud worked through what he was hearing. "But… what will Butters think if I leave without saying goodbye?"

"If he can forgive you for cramming yourself into his ass, he'll forgive you for leaving in a hurry." Cartman crawled over Bud's trapped body and pressed the steel blade against the skin on Bud's neck. "I'll take care of it."

Bud pulled his head as far from the knife as he could manage. "Alright, alright, I'll go back to California!"

Through the dim light, Cartman cast a suspicious eye on Bud. Nothing this man could say would have gained Cartman's trust. "Yes. Return to the bowels of hippie land." With haphazard slices, Cartman slashed through the zip ties and one of Bud's already lacerated hands. Bud threw some clothes on, grabbed his suitcase and hurried out the door. From the window, the boy sneered down as Bud jumped into the car. He was sure he saw the man glance wild-eyed up at the window before the car peeled out.

Pleased with his work, Cartman carefully made the bed, flipping the pillows to hide the blood. "A nice surprise for Butters' parents when they least expect it." The fire in his veins had cooled, and so had his body. He slid into his striped pyjamas. The night of brutality was at its end, and Cartman was a hungry little boy again, looking for a sugar high. With a childish smile, he pulled up a chair and stood on his tiptoes to retrieve a half-full carton of ice cream. As he stretched, he took pleasure in the way the thong caressed him. The hearts of men are easily corrupted. And the thong of power has a will of its own. He grabbed a spoon and plopped down on the kitchen floor to enjoy his treat as if nothing had happened.

The wind was dying down. At the edge of the neighborhood, in Kenny's drafty bedroom, Butters still lay awake. He had expected to find Kenny, but the boy was nowhere to be found. (Maybe when Kenny gets back, he'll know what to do.) Butters had tried to sleep to pass the time, but the cold and the strange room made it impossible. He just wanted to be at home. Things were bad enough without his parents finding out what he had done now. Through the thin wall, Butters could hear Kid Rock crackling on the stereo, punctuated by conversation.

Abruptly, without so much as a knock, Kenny's older brother Kevin burst in. "You got my earbuds. Give 'em here."

(Sorry, I don't have your earbuds,) Butters answered, confused. He said what he knew his mother would say. (Did you look everywhere? Where did you last see them?)

Kevin did not accept this answer as graciously as Butters always tried to. "You lyin'! You lyin'! Mama!" Kevin turned and lumbered out the door. "Kenny took my earbuds and now he's lyin'."

Butters got out of bed and followed Kevin, with his head hung low. Even when I'm someone else I get in trouble.

Kenny's mother, sipping beer with her husband on the couch, paid him no attention. Instead, she said to Kevin, "You stoled those earbuds from your father! Sorry 'bout ya." Kevin was annoyed but unsurprised by the brush off. Mrs. McCormick resumed pushing her own agenda. With one finger, she traced her husband's arm. "Wouldn't it be nice to have a baby again? Maybe we could get ourselves on one-a them reality shows, like Clay & Jen Plus 10."

As soon as she breathed the word "baby", Mr. McCormick rolled his eyes. "Aw naw. We already got lotsa kids. We need a big plasma TV, right there." He held up his unsteady hands to frame where he imagined the TV on the opposite wall.

"Not this again. Why you gotta be such a selfish prick? We need that money for the baby."

"No, we need a big ol' TV with high-def for watchin' NASCAR. I can't see nothin' on that piece of crap." He meant to point at the old TV, but the all the beer in his system made his finger point closer to a disembodied car engine sitting on the floor.

"I need another drink." Mrs. McCormick stormed off to the kitchen with Kevin at her heels, demanding a drink as well.

"Whaddaya think, kiddo?" Mr. McCormick called out to Butters, tripping over his own tongue. "What'd you rather have. A big screen plasma screen, or another baby?" He burped and yelled to his wife, "Like we don't have too many damn kids already."

"I didn't make 'em by myself!" she hollered. "And don't say that in fronta the children, you dumb ass. You'll traumatize 'em!"

(Don't mind me, uh, "Mom and Dad". It's for you to decide, and I just want you to be happy.) Butters' adorable smile was hidden, but could be detected even in his muffled voice.

The two guys ignored him, but Mrs. McCormick heard and knelt down. She knotted her arms around him.

It was actually the combination of all the yelling and the unfamiliar smells coming from his temporary family that so troubled him. Butters was used to a little yelling from his own parents when he was grounded for one of the thousands of reasons they had found over the years: looking silly in school pictures, having liposuction in the living room, dating Paris Hilton, the usual objectionable behavior. But it was always quick and painful. Here, the fighting seemed never-ending. Butters spotted a Budweiser clock that read 2:18 AM.

"No duh, he's a hot mess. You was strung out the whole time you was pregnant! Boy's probably got brain damage."

Mrs. McCormick stood, and Butters took the opportunity to dart away. She did not seem to notice that he had gone, but continued to rage, "Yer the only one in this family with brain damage!" and she smashed a beer can on her husband's head.

"Shit, woman!" he shouted back.

Kevin grabbed her and tried to pull her away. "Quit hittin' him, skank!"

"Watch your mouth!" From there, the fight escalated, with Mr. McCormick drunkenly smacking at his wife, Mrs. McCormick shrieking and punching at him, and Kevin trying to fend her off with a broken beer bottle. Down the hall, the wailing of Kenny's little sister rose above the shouting match in the living room, but only Butters seemed to hear it. It was too much.

A terrified Butters ran out to free himself from the chaos. Just outside the back door, he tripped over some rubber tubing and fell in the snow. Getting up, he bumped a table and knocked over two paint cans in a stack. A thick smell of urine hung so heavily in the air that even the parka could not keep it out. He made his way across the yard with the caution of a soldier traversing a minefield. The outside of the home was as scary as the inside, and he could not get away fast enough.

The wind had stilled, but snow was still falling, and it was fiercely cold. Butters was numb. He hated to go against what King Mysterion had told him to do. He also hated that he would have to answer yet again to his parents and Uncle Bud for his behavior. Most of all, he hated to leave Kenny's sister in the midst of that discord. I wish I could help her, but I don't know what to do. I wish King Mysterion could have visited her before he died. He gave it some more thought. Oh! I bet he already was. I think he left a pair of his underwear in Kenny's room. They had "KM" written on them too. When Butters approached his house, he toughened himself with the bravery that King Mysterion would have wanted. Seeing the kitchen light on, he expected to find a displeased Uncle Bud waiting for him.