South Park Fan Fiction ❯ Cartman Rising ❯ Psycho ( Chapter 15 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

I arrived back in Washington D.C. in no time. Wendy was waiting for me.

"How did your trip to Coney Island go?" she asked, kissing me. Then she noticed how many people had come back. "Where's Kenny?"

"We wrecked our car on the Brooklyn Bridge," I told her. "Kenny didn't survive."

"Oh no!" Wendy cried. "That's terrible!" I wanted to tell her about the good that had come of his permanent death, but she, like so many others, was not aware of his unique inability to stay dead for very long, and so she wouldn't understand.

"Yes, it is," I said. "It's just us, now." There was a brief spark of fear in her eyes, but it passed almost instantly.

I was a little concerned that her fear might be the beginnings of disloyalty. Should I kill her? Or at least marginalize her, like I did Butters? After all, I was so powerful, I didn't really need her anymore.

No, I was still fond of her. Not to mention that she owed me; I had saved her from her negligent ex-boyfriend, and given him what he deserved. And even if all that were not the case, it wasn't like I had anything to fear from her. I was immortal, and I could read her mind. Besides, she was still smart, and she could give valuable advice for ruling the world.

And speaking of the world, I was now determined that Damien and Satan would never get their hands on it. They were originally going to get the world when I died, but now that would never happen, so the world was safe. Which was good, because even though I had made the deal with them in the first place, I had been more than a little wary of them in charge, so I had been waiting for an opportunity to safely renege on the whole arrangement.

And thus, I began. I contacted kings, queens, emperors, and presidents all over the world, and stated my demands. Some saw the futility of their position immediately. Others had to be threatened a little; after all, I now had control of the most powerful nation on earth, and the most nukes. Those that still refused to cooperate got the special treatment; Butters went in and crossed enough wires in their heads to make them do handstands and they signed away their countries with smiles on their faces.

Of course, this didn't all happen overnight. Negotiations took time, and I was in negotiations with practically every country in the world. Still, I was making progress; more countries surrendered every day. After a few weeks, I had control over the entire Western Hemisphere, as well as several countries in Africa and Northern Europe. Even England and China were weakening. Not even the Romans had built their empire this quickly!

One country, however, was proving somewhat difficult. The entire nation of Israel simply refused to bow to me. Every time I brainwashed one of their leaders, he was either assassinated or otherwise removed from power before he could hand over control to me.

Wendy saw what was going on in Israel, and, in an act of unforgivable mercy, told me I had to stop. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Why? They can't remain independent from our empire. They're just going to have to get used to the idea of being ruled by us," I said.

"I know," Wendy said. "But we need to find another way. They'll all die if this keeps up."

"If that's the way they want it, that's the way they'll get it," I said. "And since when did you care about Jews?"

"I care about people," Wendy snapped. "We are doing this for the good of the people, aren't we?"

"Ruling the world means having guts. Whatever happened to being ruthless?"

"Being determined doesn't mean I enjoy watching innocent people suffer," Wendy said. "And I won't allow this to continue any longer."

It was just like Kenny. Did anyone understand the concept of sacrifice, other than me? Did she think I enjoyed watching innocent people suffer? No, just enemies. Sometimes, you had to abandon your principles to reach a better future. Sometimes, you had to make sacrifices for the greater good.

Well, I couldn't let her ruin what I had worked so hard to create.

"I think it's about time that only one of us made the decisions around here," I told her.

The Brotherhood was officially dissolved.

"Just like that?" she said. She started to walk away, then turned around and said, "I thought you had changed, Cartman. I thought that you might have actually been trying to do some good in the world. I can't believe I thought you cared about anyone."

Well, how do you like that? I'm such a great guy to her, and she goes and insults me. But I'm a forgiving person; I know that she's just upset, and that she won't take it too seriously. By tomorrow, she'll be just fine.

However, the whole situation with Israel had reminded me of something. I had one more personal enemy left to deal with: the no-good, backstabbing, ginger Jersey Jew-rat, Kyle Broflovski. The one who was responsible for this whole mess. The one who had corrupted all my friends, and turned them to the ways of evil.

I decided that it was time to send the package.

As I said before, punishment is all about subtlety. The traitors had all been attacked with precision, right where they were most proud, and most weak. The self-conscious Clyde's popularity had taken a dive, the intelligent Ike's mind had gone down the drain, and so forth.

With Kyle, however, such tactics were almost useless. He was a rational thinker, meaning that it would have been impossible to lay any obvious traps for him. He had a temper, but he knew when to calm it, so I couldn't rely on his anger alone. Because of that, his punishment, out of all the traps and sneak attacks I had carried out, was the most carefully prepared and also the most simply executed.

That was why I had given him hints about my plan; I couldn't sneak anything past him, so I might as well pursue him out in the open. The purpose of the whole exercise was to scare him. Fear would make him irrational, and that would bring his defenses down. My promise that I had something special planned for him, after seeing what happened to Stan and the others, had left him unnerved and shaken. Doubtless, he had spent several weeks looking over his shoulder wherever he went, and jumping at the slightest sound. When I told him that it was his fault that this was happening, his careful calculations and Jew logic had left him unable to think straight. If he had a better grasp on real ethics, then he would have known, as I do, that the only justice is the justice you make for yourself. But his eternal optimism convinced him that evildoers were always punished, and the discovery of his role as the evildoer, then, would convince him that his own punishment was fated, and was appropriately swift, painful, and inescapable.

In short, I had him all rigged up, like one of those booby-trapped pianos in those Looney Tunes cartoons. It was a simple, and yet complex and brilliant piece of work. Now, all I had to do was press the right key. That's where the package came in.

I wrapped the package up all nice and pretty, then sent it to Kyle's home address. Then, I talked with Butters, and arranged a way for me to see through Mindworld, and be able to watch my plan unfold firsthand, through Kyle's own eyes.

Kyle sat in his living room, cutting up his apple. He looked at the knife warily, as if concerned that it would stab him of its own accord. It did not, however, leaving him free to continue about his business.

On the other hand, the knife was a defense against the outside. The outside was dangerous, for that was where Cartman lay in wait. Maybe, here, he would be safe, but if the outside ever came in, he could use the knife to protect himself. No matter when his time would come, he would be ready for it. Let it never be said that Kyle Broflovski gave up without a fight.

Unfortunately, Stan couldn't be safe in here with him, for that would mean going outside to look for him, and that was death. Besides, he already had to take care of Ike, and family came first. Stan would just have to wait. And anyway, Stan had already been swallowed up; he was safe from this new threat.

Unless the outside would punish Kyle by punishing Stan further…

Kyle took several deep breaths. He had to calm down. He couldn't go on like this. Cartman couldn't possibly—

A doorbell ring jolted him back into the terror. Who was that? Had Cartman come at last?

"Kyle, would you get that, bubbe?" his mom asked. She didn't understand.

"No, mother," he stuttered, shaking. Then he didn't say another word; he was sure whoever was outside could hear him.

After a few moments, his mother went to the door in exasperation. "Kyle, dear, it was just the postman. You have a package. Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you lately."

A package? "Who is it from?" he asked.

His mother checked. "Hmm, it doesn't say. Here, why don't you open it?"

"No way!" he yelled. Didn't she understand? No more mysteries. That was how the outside hunted. Curiosity killed the cat. "It…might be a bomb!"

"A bomb?" his mother scoffed. "I've just about had it with you, Kyle. This kind of reclusiveness can't be good for your health. First thing tomorrow, I'm scheduling an appointment for you with the psychiatrist." She smiled sweetly, hoping that Kyle would soften up. Was she trying to bring his defenses down? "Here, if you're so scared," she continued, "I'll open it for you."

And before Kyle could protest, she tore the package open. And in spite of the dangers, Kyle looked inside.

And what he saw…

It was…

…a bowl of chili.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But it was there, at the moment he saw the bowl, that Kyle Broflovski's weakened and tortured mind finally snapped.

Dozens of thoughts rose up and shouted inside Kyle's head. All the fears and panics that he had screamed in agony. He had always managed to keep them under control, if just barely. But now, every time a rational thought came to stifle the chaos, ten fears brought it down, and it too was swallowed up by the panic.

But in the mass confusion, one panic shouted louder than all the rest, brought to new life at the sight of the chili bowl. "My parents are dead!" it cried. There was no rational reason for a bowl of chili to produce that thought, but that didn't matter; Kyle had never been so sure of anything in his life. He knew that his parents' remains were in that bowl of chili.

Kyle looked at his mother. No, not his mother. His mother was dead; this was an illusion. The illusion asked him what was wrong. He ignored it. It was a trick. The illusion was here to destroy him! The outside had come!

Now the chaos in his mind ceased. It was replaced by a single directive: fight back. Destroy the illusion before it could destroy him. He seized the knife with renewed vigor.

"You're not real," he proclaimed with remarkable calm. Then he stabbed the illusion.

The illusion fought back, wailing and struggling against Kyle, clawing at him, and trying to escape. But Kyle was stronger; he wasn't going to let the outside get the better of him. He would break free of the illusions. He would fight to the bitter end.

He plunged the knife into the illusion's chest again and again, until it stopped moving. The illusion of his father and brother rushed at him as well, but he destroyed them, too. No more tricks, no more illusions. The trap was broken; the trick was shattered. HE WAS FREE!

I walked through the double doors into the Tom Cruise Institute for the Mentally Ill. The receptionist looked up from her paperwork. "Oh, Mr. Cartman," she said. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to see Kyle Broflovski," I told her. She was a really pretty girl. I think she was from my class. Heidi? Or maybe Annie? I could never tell those girls apart. I briefly wondered whether I was doing the wrong thing by eying the receptionist up, but I dismissed the notion; what Wendy didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Besides, it wasn't like I was actually cheating on her; I was simply appreciating nature's beauty.

"Right this way," the girl said, walking to one of the secure areas. "I should warn you, he is considered dangerous."

"Yes, so I heard," I said, shaking my head solemnly. "To suddenly come unglued and stab his whole family to death…tragic. He was my friend, though, and after that…I just wanted to talk to him."

"I understand," the girl said.

"He is restrained, right?" I asked. I didn't want to talk to him that much.

"Of course," she replied. She turned the lock on the thick door, opened it, and we walked in.

The entire room—or should I say, cell—was white and spotless. The walls were covered with pads as thick as mattresses. In short, it was everything you could expect from an asylum; cold, sterile, and nothing that could harm either the patient or the guest, no matter how ingenious they might be.

And speaking of patient…there was Kyle, sitting against the back wall. His green ushanka was gone, and his scraggly ginger hair stuck out in all directions. He was all wrapped up in a strait jacket, and was constantly twitching, just like Tweek used to do. He was muttering something under his breath:

"Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel…
I made you out of clay…
Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel…
With dreidel I will play…"

Then he started over again. So this is what Jews do after they completely lose it. Ha! That's why they're lame.

What were most indicative of Kyle's instability were his eyes. They looked like they were having trouble focusing on anything. It was like they were trying to look at me, but were actually seeing something that was far behind me, or perhaps something that didn't even exist at all.

"Could you leave us alone for a moment?" I asked the girl. After checking Kyle's restraints, she agreed and stepped outside, but she remained close to the door, just in case I needed her.

"Well, Kyle, we've finally seen the truth, haven't we?" I said, kneeling next to him. "Sometimes, it's better to just give up. But you couldn't do that, could you? And now look where it's got you."

Kyle went on with his song, having not comprehended a word I said.

"I heard that Stan drowned in a gutter yesterday," I said. "That's too bad; maybe if you had been there to help him, things might have turned out differently."

Kyle stopped singing, and stared at me. For a brief moment, he looked completely sane. Then he began pulling at his restraints, like he wanted nothing more than to beat me to a pulp.

"There, there, Kyle," I said, patting him on the back. He snapped his teeth at me viciously, and I pulled my hand away. "You really had no chance, Kyle. This was all destined to happen, you see? The world needed someone who would be the greatest leader of all time. Who would crush the scum of the earth beneath their feet. That someone is me, and that scum is you."

"But this is just the beginning. You and your friends were just the warm-up. I'm going to build an empire that will last for all time, and lead the whole world in a regime that will never be forgotten."

"I know that some of the things I've done were immoral. But don't you see? I had to do them! All because those greedy Jews wouldn't give me what was rightfully mine! So it's really their fault, you see. But don't worry; they'll pay for their crimes. You'll be the last Jew, Kyle: the last of the evil race that has held our world in darkness for so long."

Kyle sunk back into his mad stupor. I don't know if he actually understood anything that I had said, but I had fulfilled my duty to tell him. I moved toward the door, then turned back to him."

"Before I leave you, there's just one thing I have left to say." Pause.

"Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaah nyaaaah! Ha ha ha ha haaa haaa!"

Then I left the asylum. The receptionist looked confused by my laughter.

I herded the Jews into camps. I legalized marijuana and all those other drugs. I relocated everyone in South Park and made it into a test site for nuclear bombs. And I finally forced Israel to surrender.

The Jews would never bother me again. I had given the rest of the public everything they could possibly want, so they had no reason to be upset.

And I had control over the whole. Fucking. World. The planet Earth was now known as the Empire of Cartman.

At last.

Having had a productive day, I went back to my palace. Wendy was surprised to see two girls at my side. When she asked who they were, I told them that I had passed a law legalizing polygamy, and that these women were two new wives.

She almost spoke up, but then stopped. After all, what did she have to complain about? I hadn't broken my promise to her. I hadn't replaced her with someone else. I simply could have more than one wife now.
As she walked away, I reminded her that it was her turn to make dinner. Then I kicked up my feet, and relaxed.

Everything was just as it should be.

And that is how I came to be the supreme ruler of the world. I hope you all have picked up some pointers on how to achieve your dreams. Just remember to be careful; sometimes, the most dangerous people you meet are the people you least suspect. And the only way to ensure that you achieve greatness is to reach up and seize it. Those who stand around waiting for an opportunity get left in the dust; only those who make their own opportunities have a chance to succeed.

To all of my admirers out there: obviously, you can't be Emperor of the World, since that's my job, and I will be around forever. But, I do want people to help me run this great empire of mine. After all, the world is a big place, and it's tough to look over every bit of the country at a time, even with my vast resources.

And if running the world isn't your dream, pursue whatever it is to the end, no matter who is in your way.

Don't forget to keep your friends (if you have any) close, and your enemies closer.

And if any of THOSE people get in your way, just remember what Hitler said: "Wir müssen die Ausrottung der Juden!"

Sincerely,

Eric Theodore Cartman I

This could be THE END, but if you want to read the Optional Epilogue, read on.