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Summary
Kyle’s grip on Cartman’s wrists tighten as he growls. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You’d have to kill me first.”
“That can be arranged,” Kyle hisses. “I can wring your fucking neck until you can’t breathe.”
“You don’t have the guts,” Cartman challenges.
(there's never really a good time to discover a new thing that turns you on, especially when fighting with a frenemy)
