South Park Fan Fiction ❯ Cartman Rising ❯ Finale ( Epilogue )

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

A/N: This chapter is kind of an optional epilogue: the story can either end with this or with Chapter 15, depending on what you prefer.

Well, now that I've finished writing my memoirs, I can get back to work.

I've just sat down to look over the reports from the Jew camps when Wendy walks up to me. "Eric, we need to talk."

It's a Friday. Normally, I spend most of my time with Katrina on Fridays, but Wendy is my wife too, and my first one at that. I can afford to give her some of my time. "What's on your mind?" I ask. Usually, that's a dangerous question to ask a woman, but it is important that all of my important subjects be happy, and that includes my wives.

"Eric," she asks. "Do you love me?"

…What kind of a stupid question is that?

"Of course I love you, Wendy," I assure her. "What's all this about?"

She looks at her feet, and I hear her sniffling. Something is really wrong. Wendy almost never cries, and when she does, it's only because she's really, really upset about something. Come to think about it, she's been very solemn and unenthusiastic during sex these past few weeks. So whatever this was, it's been going on for some time.

"There, there," I say. "You can tell me what's wrong. We're married after all."

"It's…about…Katrina and Penelope…" she finally chokes out.

Not this again. "Baby, we've been through this. Just because I have three wives doesn't mean I love you any less than I did before."

"I believe you, Eric," she says.

Naturally.

"Why shouldn't I? You never really loved me at all."

Of course. I—wait a minute, what did she just say?

"Oh, you desired me, Cartman," she says, "and you certainly talked a good show of how much you loved me. But you never really cared about me, or cared about how I felt."

How could that bitch say that? "That's not true! What about our romantic vacation? What about when I asked you to marry me?"

"Just a political move. Oh, it was a good one, and it's one I would have also made in your position. But it didn't mean anything to you beyond that. You would have married Sarah Jessica Parker if you thought it would give you more power."

There is no call for that.

"And it was just the same when you first asked me to join you in your quest to take over the world," she continues. "You were attracted to me, and you could use my leadership skills to aid you in your conquest. So you said you loved me, and you get both a business partner and something to have sex with all in one package."

I shudder. "How could you be so hurtful? Wendy, I would do any—"

"Oh, shut up!" she yells. She is not crying anymore, and her voice is cold and resolute. "Those reassuring words have manipulated me for long enough. You used me; that's it. You know what I am to you? A toy. That's why you got more wives; because no matter how pretty and fun a toy is, eventually, you get bored with it, and move on to something else. You don't love me anymore than you love them. If you really loved me, you wouldn't have thought about more wives, let alone married them! And now that you're even more powerful, you care about me even less; I'm just another one of those ants that you could crush beneath your feet, and the only reason I'm still here is that you don't want to throw away a toy you had so much fun with."

This—this is ridiculous. She doesn't know what she's talking about. I do love her…don't I?

"You know how else I know you don't love me?" she goes on. "You don't really know me. I don't think killing people is funny. I don't do terrible things to my closest friends, just because they don't agree with me."

"If you're referring to my friends in South Park," I growl, "they made their choice. They wanted me to fail. I said right from the start: 'whoever is not with us is against us.'"

Wendy shakes her head. "Only a paranoid person thinks the whole world is out to get them."

"It's not paranoid if they are out to get you," I counter.

She glares at me. "They may not have wanted to rule the world with you, but that didn't mean they were your enemies. Maybe they just wanted to live normal lives. Maybe, if you had become king of the world, they would have shaken your hand, and said, 'Good job.' Now, they can't do that."

"You didn't know them like I did," I tell her. "They would have sold me out to the Jews in a heartbeat. Besides, if I'm guilty of hurting my 'friends' and thinking it's funny, then so are you. You laughed when Clyde blew up his crap bag." Hehe, still hilarious.

"That was funny, Cartman," Wendy says, "but what happened afterwords was not. I mean, he tried to kill himself! I just wanted Bebe to break with him. And Stan, too! He may have been a sorry excuse for a boyfriend, but that doesn't mean I wanted him dead! I mean, he was your friend, and now he's dead, for Christ's sake! Do you not think that you might have gone a little too far?"

"Why should I think that?" I ask.

Wendy looks right into my eyes, and I start to actually get scared. "I admit it, Cartman; I love being in charge. I like bossing people around, and maybe even embarrassing them a little. I actually get a high off of it. But I always keep myself in check, because when someone becomes so drunk on power that they would ruin their friends' lives or kill them, just because it's funny, then that person is evil!"

Evil?

"For a long time, I've been blinded by all the power," Wendy continues. "But now that you've just tossed me aside, I can finally see the truth: you don't care about anything or anyone, not even me. And you never did."

EVIL?

"You think…I'm evil?" I ask, in shock. "Even after all I've done? For this world? For you?"

Wendy crosses her arms. "Especially after all that."

How dare she? How can she be so ungrateful? I guess I really have been blinded by love after all.

"Well, fine, BITCH! I don't need you! I've got all the money, and women, and power I need! I can't believe I ever thought I could count on YOU! Well, that's fine; I'll just rule the world BY MYSELF!"

Wow…did I really say that? As angry as I am, that seemed a little bit harsher than I meant it to. I would have to get rid of her; clearly her feminine wiles are messing with my head more than I realized. I need to clear my thoughts.

"Butters," I think, "I need you to perform the usual on Wendy. She's gotten a little too independent, lately." That should work. This way, she won't be so meddlesome, but I can still keep her for sex; she is great at that.

Silence. Instead of Butters's chipper, "Yes, sir!" there is only goddamn silence.

"Butters?" I think again. Then I casually glance at Wendy, and notice that her cold look of hatred has curled up into a wicked smile. Oh, SHIT! What has she done?

"Having trouble with your agent?" Wendy sneers.

Wendy has neutralized Butters? How could this have happened?

The bitch continues, "You see, when you scare the shit out of people and threaten them, they typically think of you as a bully. Butters is a good boy; he knows that when he's having trouble with a bully, he should talk to a responsible adult." She grins. "I'm flattered that he thought I qualified."

Butters, you black asshole! You've ruined everything!

I try to reach out to Butters with my mind to stop him, but I can't find him. Somehow, he's figured out a way to hide from me. He could be anywhere, doing anything, and I can't stop him.

Wendy laughs. "You should know, Cartman, that if there was a way for Butters to enter into people's minds without them knowing, he could do the same to you." She pauses, and I realize that Butters is talking to her. "Butters say your mind smells, by the way."

He's already in my mind? God damn it!

"He also say it's really messed up," Wendy adds. "Butters, I think it's time."

Before I can think of any mental defenses to put up, Butters does it.

What exactly he's just done, is a little hard for me to describe.

He…unlocked my brain.

In one moment of clarity, I could see myself for who I really was. I had taken over the world because I was drunk on power, not for any "greater good." I had ruined the lives of all my friends just because I thought it would be funny, and not for any real preventative or constructive reason. I did kill and humiliate people just because I loved to hear them scream.

There are two sides in my head. One side is who I thought I was, and the other is who I actually was. I have the rare opportunity to see them both, side by side. You already know what I think of myself; I've spent my whole biography telling you that. I am a powerful leader, put in place by destiny, and guided by absolute principles of justice. I am the ruler this world needed.

But then I see the other side, and words come to mind I would never have attributed to myself. Bloodthirsty…tyrannical…sadistic…evil…it's almost too much to bear. Sure, I had done some things I wasn't proud of, but to see all this…to see yourself, without any illusions...can be really cruel.

I didn't love Wendy. At all. I really thought I had, and I suppose I wish I did. But I feel nothing for her, and I never did, and my lies of love and tenderness had been so convincing that I had believed them myself.

Also, I didn't care about Kenny, either. I had called him my best friend, but now I can see how empty those words really are. Kenny, Stan, Jimmy, Butters, and even Kyle...

…and those people…my friends…they had never really been that bad. In fact, the only undeserved cruelty they had visited on me was calling me fat. And what have I done to them?

One is in jail. Who knew how much he had suffered in there, but at least he can be released now…

Three were attacked in body: two with syphilis, and one in a coma. Someday, they might recover, but it will take time…

Four were attacked in mind; one through humiliation, two through torture and traumatization, and one through a long, slow push towards insanity. Therapy can reverse some of the damage to most of them, but Kyle is probably beyond anyone's power to help…

And four…four of the people I had grown up with, laughed with, and actually had good times with…are dead. Dead. Because of me…

Oh, and while I'm looking at myself without any illusions...I am fat. Very fat.

I am in the unique position of being able to accurately judge myself. And I am guilty. On all charges. I would deserve whatever happened to me, now.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" Wendy sneers, still watching. "You should have known; never EVER fuck with Wendy Testaburger."

I also hurt the girl I had believed I had loved. Chalk that one up, too.

Wendy grabs an iron candlestick off of the fireplace, and raises it above her head. "I can't believe I married you. I can't believe I slept with you. I can't believe I let you touch me."

So while I am judge and jury, Wendy would be executioner. I do nothing to stop her. I simply wait.

My wife brings the candlestick down, and I see nothing else.

I awake to see myself in Limbo a second time.

The two sides of my mind continue to rage at each other, until a lone voice rises up and says, "Stop. You can't afford to fight yourself. You're dead now because you were too self-conflicted to defend yourself. You have to get a grip!"

The voice is right, so I decide that I have finally had enough. I reach out to both sides. I am in control here, and I will be damned (ironic choice of words) before I will be a slave to my own mind. I'm not going to let something like guilt or morals stop me from doing what I want!

Immediately, both sides quiet down. The self-image side, the illusion, goes away. I still know who I am, but I suppose I can live with it. Since I am a heartless bastard who has no feelings for anyone other than me, I have no reason to help anyone else ever again, and I can be the heartless bastard that I always was, without any pesky interference.

I am back.

And by the way, the joke's on you, Wendy. I'm still immortal, so I'll just come back to life soon, and then you'll be sorry you killed me, you self-righteous bitch. You just thought I was a complete monster before; wait until you see me now. I'll kill you, and I'll kill Butters, and then I'll get back to ruling the world, without pretense, the way I always wanted to, forever.

And Jews, I won't stop until I've destroyed every last one of you.

I have just reached this resolution when Damien appears. "I'm ready to get back to earth, at your earliest convenience," I tell him.

"Well, about that…" Damien begins. "It turns out that after you left here the last time, someone came to me in a vision, and offered me some helpful advice. He observed that you were being a bit of a bully to me, and he said that the best way to deal with bullies was to talk to a responsible adult."

Butters…you. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

"So, I went to my dad, and told him everything," Damien says. "He was mad at first, but he still cares about me, so he thanked me for being so honest with him, and didn't even punish me. He did say I couldn't keep immortal humans anymore, though, so I took away your powers."

I shudder. "You mean…I'm not immortal anymore."

He smiles. "That's right. So now that the supreme ruler of Earth isn't immortal, my dad and I are all ready to take over when Wendy dies. So much for your carefully laid plans."

Well, way to go, Butters: you've just doomed the world to be taken over by the devil. As bad as I might have been, I wouldn't have been as bad as—

—no, wait, I would have been worse.

Screw you anyway, Butters.

"And now, it's time to begin your sentence in Hell," Damien says, opening the gate of fire. "I must say, Cartman, we've been waiting for you for quite some time. I think you've exceeded everyone's expectations on just how bad a person can be. Your tormentors even requested you personally."

My tormentors? I look and see two men walk through the gateway towards me. I recognize them, but they look very different, like Hell has treated them badly. Still, I suspect it will be much, much worse for me.

"Apparently, they thought that no one else had the experience to give you what you really deserved," Damien says with a grin.

"Something like that," Stan answers him. "We, on the other hand, learned all about creative torture from an expert."

Kenny says nothing, but he smiles and cracks his knuckles.

THE END