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It wasn’t a particularly bright day when the call had arrived, nor was it one that made Kyle want to snap into two and leave his woes to the rest of the world. Outside, a few grade schoolers frolicked in the podunk town’s run-down streets, the ones that held the memories of a long time past in which wizards and elves of a colossal time period would convene and brawl with one another, grappling at each other’s sleeves and hand-made attire until both parties decided it was time to head home. That, or the usual case of being called back home to a residence that may or may not have held desirable members.
A wistful look became of his gaze as Kyle looked through the window solemnly at the sight of his little brother playing freely, so casually to where it made him want to run around himself for no other reason than pure liberty, but alas, he sat still on his bed with nothing more than plain wishful thinking. His mother had asked of him to complete a few chores only a mere couple of hours ago, and yet there sat nothing. No motivation in the slightest had sprung up and claimed him, and the reason why was still unknown to the poor child at hand.
That is, until he got that aforementioned telephone call.
Typically, Kyle would get a call from either Kenny or Stan to hang out whenever either of them had time to simply roam about, but this weekend the former had to take care of his sister while his parents took care of certain errands that may or may not have been of dubious intent, and the latter, well…
“Sorry Kyle. I’ve gotta go help my Dad with some wood work this weekend,” he had answered back dejectedly, knowing that the other end of the line would produce a reaction similar to his. “I asked if he could just get my sister to do it but she’s also gonna be out for a day—er, two. We’ve been pretty busy lately with all the farm stuff…Hope that’s not too much of a disappointment.”
Kyle, being the subservient and accepting child he was, nodded his head to himself and heaved a sigh. It wasn’t THAT much of a surprise that he’d have to go tend to stuff here and there, but that meant that there wasn’t really anyone else available whom he’d be willing to go shit around with. There was, of course, another notorious individual who was possibly free of any obligatory parental tasks, but that was more of a last ditch effort to alleviate boredom more than anything…
“No, no, it’s okay. I understand. I actually have homework that I still have yet to finish up,” the hebrew replied earnestly.
Kyle could almost physically feel the confusion that exuded from the other side the second those words had been uttered.
“You? Homework? Unfinished? Wha…tuh?”
There was a pause. “I can’t believe it, really.”
“I’m not that much of a nerd, am I??” the ushanka-donning grade schooler inquired, the hand that had been resting at his side moving up to twirl his hair around curiously.
“You…are but I’d say you’re more…”
…
“Yeah?”
Rustling sounded from the other side just before a rushed goodbye was let aloud, leaving the ginger to twiddle his own fingers.
In any case, Cartman’s call seemed a bit out of the ordinary, and only because, to be completely truthful, the two hadn’t had a conversation between themselves outside of school for about 3 days ever since the sociopathic dunce decided to add alcohol to an existing wound by telling the entire student body that Kyle was the one spreading rumors about him “unintentionally” giving Butters an experience that undoubtedly would’ve put him on some kind of list prohibiting him from ever stepping foot onto campus again, or any other campus for that matter. Being the obnoxious moron he was, he relished giving his sworn rival a burden to shoulder whenever the opportunity arose, and thanks to that, he decided there wasn’t a reason to speak to him again until it all blew over.
But, like always, something within him had shifted, allowing himself to ultimately yield to the one he deemed absolutely abhorrent.
A ringing that sounded from the corner of his bed-stand immediately swept Kyle out of his lengthy stupor, pushing him to leave his comfortable position atop his mattress as he shuffled over to the other side. Not knowing what to expect, he cleared his throat and answered briefly.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Jew. You busy this weekend?”
His voice came out almost muffled, like it had been drowned out by something in front of him (but god forbid it actually is when the time called), which led an eyebrow to be raised on his end.
“No…not really,” he replied, tilting the phone down just a bit. The feeling that he was unknowingly in the process of subjecting himself to something unpleasant was starting to creep up on him dreadfully. But there was absolutely no way he could simply hang up, right?
Yeah, right.
“Okay, well, I found something in my mom’s attic that I thought was super interesting that I think you should come check out. I know you’re probably bored as fuck without Stan and Kenny, stupid gaywad…”
Of course this is how he goes about it, he thought distastefully. There’s no other way to seamlessly break a block of ice than by simply making your way around it entirely. I guess that frame of thinking can get you past certain things on occasion but…Damn it!
And also, did he just refer to the attic as his “Mom’s?” Why not just refer to it as his like every other little thing he gets his greasy hands on?
He was definitely, definitely getting ahead of himself.
“Uh huh…I see…I don’t really feel like coming over at the moment, y’know.”
The sound that cluttered the other end had stopped. “And why would that be, jewrat?”
Kyle Broflovski was one to stick to his own rule of code, to reject anything that remotely came across as undesirable and unwanted unless it was necessary to mingle with for the sake of his own friends (and appearance, but he’d never truthfully admit such). Cartman, in his eyes, was definitely something less than any incompetent friend he’d want to associate himself with, but much more than an average “nemesis.” Humans were contradictory and often very hypocritical no matter how resolutely they stood atop lunch tables preaching to the student body that something was in the wrong, and because of that, the youth entered a paradox. A huge, lard-sucking vortex that he could never get rid of.
For a brief moment he considered using an obvious excuse to weasel his way out of it, not to mention the fact that he'd put both of them on "non-speaking terms," but honestly...
“Fine,” he grumbled, “I’m coming over.”
Keeping in line with his beliefs was far from reality, and practicing them would only leave him restless, let alone unfulfilled.
***
The thought that he may be entering a scene he wouldn’t have been fond being a part of settled in the pit of his stomach only a moment before he dressed in his infamous orange coat-jacket, but by the time he stepped outside his Hebrew-following residence, the thought of going back was long gone behind him.
That’s the thing about living close to your friends, the redhead thought; You’re always going to be within close proximity to those who you deem worthwhile, and in theory it’d be a convenient position to be in considering how many others have to bike for miles just to reach a peer’s front door, but in the case of Broflovski, it was a much gloomier, often apprehensive layout to be a part of.
Eric Cartman was almost akin to a black hole in that, no matter how hard he tried to pull away from its gravitational pull, he’d ultimately be met with the sight of a round, albeit red, life-sucking space.
Kyle brought his fist to the door reluctantly, but subliminally decided that being around an incompetent asshole was much more entertaining than being by his lonesome.
“Cartman?” he inquired, raising his volume just enough so that he’d hear him from within. “I’m here! Open the door, fatass!”
A pause.
“And don’t make your mom come down to get it either! I know you can hear me!”
Silence resumed for what felt like a never-ending eternity (though that claim was redundant, to be fair), and the ginger surmised that his plans of hanging out with his coveted sworn-enemy were steadily moving down an empty ditch. And to that, he turned on his heel—
“Sup, dude.”
Oh. Nevermind, then.
In the doorframe stood the infamous Eric Cartman, who looked about 5 pounds bigger than when they had last seen each other. It wasn’t very significant, all things considered, but still noticeable in that it fleshed his width out in a way that didn’t treat him pleasantly. If he’d only put in the effort to slim down a few, he, admittedly, may have appeared even more desirable than someone like…Clyde, perhaps.
Not that Kyle would care, anyway.
Eric looked his friend up and down, an expression of eagerness and perplexity dawning on him as the Jew stood to presumably soak in his features, much to his displeasure.
“You can come in now, stupid retard.”
The door shut behind them, and all that lay was the sight of an interior nearly pristine, most likely because of the youth’s dependent mother, besides the multitude of snacks and crumbs that lay strewn across the living room floor. To Kyle, and any other outsider for that matter, it was evidently one that was all the more broken from within, messy floors or otherwise. Not that Eric would ever realize, of course.
It also became clear that said co-dependent caretaker wasn’t to be seen anywhere in the home, so naturally came the inquiry of:
“Where’s your mom at, Cartman?”
Followed by a simple:
“Not home. That’s for sure. Probably out with one of her friends again, like always…”
Yeah, “friends,” he smiled to himself in amusement. How the boy hadn’t figured it out yet was really something, but knowing his rival, it was probably chosen obliviousness more than anything.
Walking up the flights of stairs, Kyle could only imagine what it was that Cartman so ever so eager about presenting to him, but once they reached the second floor, the thought that it was something absolutely abhorrent started to settle in.
“I swear to god, Cartman, if this is some kind of prank that you’ve been waiting to pull all morning I’m done. Leaving. I’m giving you another chance and you better not waste it,” he let aloud, the words leaving his tongue like the taste of true malice.
Eric clicked his tounge, reaching for the doornob to his mother’s room before abruptly stopping to respond, “And so what if it is, Kahl? It’s not like we were ever together or anything. Chance or no chance, your ass still finds a way back here like the sneaky jewrat you are…”
“I doubt anyone would wanna hook up with you EVER, fucking lardass.”
“But Heidi did,” the boy clapped back in earnest.
Fuck.
Drawers began to rumble as his friend rummaged through all that he could in an attempt to unearth the key to something worthy, a treasure buried deep…well, above, in this instance.
Within them were the typical items that the brunette figured he’d find, such as former wallets and watches that were no longer used (and probably gifted since their family couldn’t afford jackshit), and a myriad of photos taken back when the boy was still a young tot, one without the headspace that would lead him to nearly ransacking his mother’s private space. Among all the traditional things, however, were toys of a particular size and feel, and as he took one within his grasp, he found it to be awfully sticky, like it’d been dunked in a jar of honey and never thoroughly washed.
To Kyle’s own horror, on the other hand, he knew exactly what lay within his friend’s palms.
“Just what the fuck are you doing, Cartman? Why are you looking through your Mom’s things without her permission, let alone touching her…uhm…” he cleared his throat, trying to speak around the subject. “Her toys,” he nearly choked.
“Do these look like fucking toys to you, Kahl? Look at this! It’s shaped just like your—“
“HURRY IT UP, FATASS!”
And with that, the room led on with an eerie quiet until Eric had a sheet of paper in his hands, his eyes tacking on a glimmer as he read what lie on the top of the page.
He folded it into his pant pocket and retreated, making his way down the outside hallway before briefly stopping underneath what appeared to be a pullout ladder, one leading to a room often used for storing things one no longer wanted to keep out in the open.
“Just you wait, Kahl…” he spoke, shining a grin at his freckled friend, “What I’m about to uncover will most likely be more jaw-dropping than Blackbeard’s treasure itself…”
Kyle rolled his eyes as per usual, crossing his arms as he waited for Eric to bring the ladder downwards. “It’s probably something valuable that she doesn’t want your grubby hands on, stupid.”
“And if that’s the case, why are you simply standing there and letting it happen?”
The redhead stood stunned temporarily before shifting his gaze back to the open room, flashing a small smirk unbeknownst to Eric.
“Because I’m bored, obviously.”
The ladder fell seamlessly, and Cartman began painstakingly pulling himself onto it. A pitiful sight it was, really, but unsurprising nonetheless.
“Yeah, keep talking, Jew.”
***
On the highest possible level of the attic lay the sight of something that was near utter disarray, though it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. The organization of various boxes wasn’t NEARLY up to par, with some sprawled out sporadically in different areas across the floorboards, and things such as old stuffed animals (from a period which we shall not name) were able to be seen just the same; if you looked past all that, though, all that was left was the outcome of a child who’d probably spent hours sifting through boxes in search of something that meant something to him.
To Cartman.
Even though he’d definitely been up here not very long ago, the heavier of the boys let out a coughing fit from the sudden rush of dust particles that wafted into his nostrils whilst digging around.
“Uegh, I can’t believe my mom didn’t spend more time cleaning up this fucking shit…So reckless, as always…”
Much to Kyle’s irritation, he scoffed and brushed at his arms, glaring. “I think you might be talking about yourself, dickwad.”
“Can we just stop with the fucking name-calling, Kahl? It’s so freaking immature. Grow a pair the next time you visit my sanctuary…” he retorted.
“Sanctuary my ass,” he began, but once he caught a glimpse of what it was Cartman was actually preoccupied with, his mouth shut.
“Is that…a safe?” he inquired, trying to get clarification despite it being relatively clear what the object of interest was.
“No shit it’s a safe, stoopid,” Eric relied earnestly. It’s like he couldn’t catch a break whenever the Hebrew was here, always making it his mission to ask ridiculous questions…
The freckled boy scooted closer to Eric as he tried to figure out how the safe worked, watching as he continuously rattled the handle in frustration upon finding that it wasn’t opening no matter how much brute force he put into pulling it.
“WHY WON’T THIS GODDAMN THING JUST OPEN ALREADY??!” he bellowed, the sound of his whiny voice carrying throughout the condensed room as he gripped the door’s handle with both hands. “I ENTERED IT CORRECTLY, NO??!?”
Kyle looked at his friend with a visage of pity, his eyes gazing down at the red hue that was beginning to sink into the poor dude’s palms as he pursued. “No, you didn’t,” he replied briefly, “I don’t think you understand the correct method, you’re supposed to turn the dial to the right by three, then to the left by two, and then again to the right by one, landing on the number each time.”
“It’s too much.”
The ginger grumbled, immediately snatching the crumpled page from the boy’s feeble grasp. “Fine. I’ll just do it instead since you’re too incompetent to understand…”
After a few moments of curiosity lapsed, the door had finally cracked open, and Cartman began to rejoice as if he’d won something unimaginably grand in life, like something you’d see a rich celebrity boast about on television, knowing damn well you’d never be able to acquire anything of the sort. At least, that’s probably what the egomaniac believed it was, in any case.
“FUCKING FINALLY!!!!” he shouted, “Gosh, they really do make these things hard as shit to get into…When I’m older and I have specialty goods that I’ll have to stash away, most likely from your grubby hands, I’m purchasing a safe with a keypad.”
Kyle smirked to himself in satisfaction. “Yeah, of course you would, idiot.”
This was it, they both thought in unison, as Cartman’s hand carefully pushed the medium-sized door back to reveal what this entire hangout had dreadfully built up to, the plethora of possibilities as to what it might’ve been flooding their headspace; and before long, the entire item had been unearthed for the world to see, and for the both of them to potentially capitalize on…
Or so they believed.
As it turned, the display that lie within the coveted safe really wasn’t all that grandiose. No, it wasn’t any kind of jewlery or any kind of revered artifact that his mother (or his father, at that) had sought out years before his creation and locked away in hopes to keep it safe from any normie’s filthy grasp…In fact, what had been stored away was something so incredibly repulsive and appalling to behold that it nearly made the boys flinch in sudden horror, but after a few moments of longevity settled in, all that lie between them was the feeling that they’d been cheated, bought, and all around swindled out of something utterly lavish.
To their intensifying dismay, what lay inside the safe was…
“A…It’s…a…”
“WHAT THE HELL EVEN IS THAT THING?!?” Eric immediately hollered upon first sight as its appearance started to make itself more clear, yet all the more distorted as the seconds went by. “IT’S LIKE A MOUND OF REJECTED COLORS THAT I’VE NEVER SEEN BEFORE…SOMEBODY STOLE THIS OUT OF A LANDFILL TO SABOTAGE ME…THAT’S GOTTA BE IT…”
“MEEEEHM!!!!”
Kyle’s eardrums were nearly blown out by the sheer volume at which his heavy companion spoke—no, outright SCREAMED—and instantaneously covered his ears to the best of his ability until he was able to determine that Cartman’s emotions had settled down enough before he could interject.
The boy tilted the door back further, consequently causing Cartman to exacerbate his outburst even more.
“IT’S RADIOACTIVE!!!”
Kyle grimaced, glancing between the brunette and what was very clearly a former academic project that was scrapped a few years back, and was, for whatever reason, left to reside in what theoretically should’ve inhabited something far more impressive.
“It’s not fucking radioactive, dickwad,” he spat, “It’s a DIORAMA. Do you hear me? DI-OH-RAH-MAH.” His teeth shone grimly in the dimly-lit attic as he vehemently enunciated the word out for him, unintentionally accentuating Cartman’s melodramatic attitude.
“More like…d-diabolical if you ask me…” he snifled.
“Oh, for god’s sake…”
The redhead carefully took the project out of its metal confinement and placed it to where it was within easy view between the both of them. Cartman shuffled backwards so as to not allow it to get even remotely close to where he sat.
After a few minutes of careful observation and analysis, the thinner of the two carefully mellowed out his demeanor, an almost soft-looking expression painting his countenance as he let out a hearty chuckle, biting his tongue to attempt not letting out an obnoxious, full-fledged laugh at how charming, though discordant, the product was.
He assumed the piece had been crafted a mere three or four years back (presumably 1st or 2nd grade) considering how poor the craftsmanship was and how almost-abstract it appeared to be. If you looked close enough, however, then you’d be able to surmise that what lie in front of them WASN’T, in fact, some kind of otherworldly amalgamation, but rather the product of pure creativity, imagination, and even a bit a childish admiration.
What it had been doing in a full-fledged safe, on the other hand, was beyond both of them, but Kyle found that Liane most likely thought it was the greatest thing that Cartman was most likely gonna discard or damage (grade schooler or not), and decided this was the best way of keeping it in tact. Really fascinating people lived under this roof, truly.
In short, it was a diorama that depicted Cartman as some kind of aristocratic noble—A king, plainly—with one foot set atop a rock at the peak of a mountain covered in white dough, evidently meant to represent the snow that envelops them in reality. Surrounding him were, of course, the only people within the student body that ever intentionally sought out to mingle with him on a daily basis, ducked down in seiza-style, seemingly honoring the big, haughty, monarch above them. It was simply a display of one of Cartman’s fantasies, something that he’s been especially familiar with ever since a certain terrorist group decided it was best to claim the human mind as their point of warfare. It was, by all means, definitely a sight to behold, but still incredibly charming, if not beautiful, regardless.
To Kyle, it was the very pinnacle of Cartman’s creative genius, at least from what he’s viewed thus far. Everything about it screamed arrogant and overly obnoxious, but at the very least, it was testimony that the boy was really capable of constructing something meaningful if he really tried.
He just wish his face wasn’t given such overt features, such as how hairy his eyebrows were and how long and extensive his nose was. But, since it was coming from the boy he knew better than himself, he let it slide.
“HEY! WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE SO FUNNY ABOUT THIS?” the creator in question inquired, his tone almost genuine if it weren’t for the fact that a smile was subtly forming on his lips as well.
“It’s just so…” he wiped away a tear, moving his arms back down to his knees, “Charming.”
“Wait…what?”
Kyle ogled at his friend’s perplexity with just a bit of fondness, adjusting his hat before he replied, “Yeah. It’s actually a really nice project, Cartman. Shows off your artistry quite well.”
Cartman blinked deliberately, and for a second, Kyle might’ve believed that a brush of pink was starting to stain his outstretched visage.
“I think it’s cute, personally.”
The brunette looked at the diorama and then back to the boy before him, his mouth opened just enough to where his pearly whites and entire sheepish expression could be easily visible. If only he was *always* able to be stopped in his tracks as easily as this, Kyle thought, giving him a small half-smile in response.
“Yeah…sure it is, Jew,” he finally replied, content.
“You didn’t have to freak out like that, though, you know that right? I understand you may have been embarrassed but that doesn’t mean you just—“
“Yadda yadda yadda, same old Kahl, raving on about shit absolutely no one gives two fat flying shits about,” the boy said, mocking his friend with a childish hand gesture. “Really, I was pissed about the fact it wasn’t a huge check for millions of dollars more than anything.”
“You sure about that? I don’t think anything remotely near your size could take off, by the way.”
“Fuckin’ hebrews…” Cartman grumbled, another wave of discontentment washing over him as it typically did when he had to deal with his friend’s Jewish antics. He lowered his gaze back down to the kiddish project and sighed, rising up and patting away dust his pants might’ve contracted.
“You can keep it.”
…
"Huh?"
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah, Kahl. Take it home and incinerate it, or bury it in your backyard along with all the other dead carcasses you probably have lying around out there, who knows…”
Disregarding the backhanded comment, Kyle suddenly felt the urge to get up and hug the boy out of pure…well, whatever it was that had struck him, but ultimately decided against it as to avoid any prickly nonsense from the other.
For the first time in an eternity, Cartman was the one who was giving something away rather than receiving, to him no less. It most definitely didn’t make up for all the nonsense that he pulled and will continue to pull for as long as time persists, but at the very least, it meant that there truly was a hint of good within those layers of fat after all.
A Christmas, no, Cartman miracle if you will.
And, like the gifts he received on that beloved occasion, he’d be sure to keep it in a safe spot and cherish it for years to come.
“Is there any particular reason you want me to have it, by chance?”
And despite his hopes of getting a sincere response, he was met with a predictable,
“No shit there’s a reason, Kahl, it has fucking diseases on it and I want it out of my hands. My HOUSE. What’s better than passing an infestation on to the dickwad I despise most? Exactly.”
Typical.
***
Making sure the artwork wouldn’t tragically topple right then and there, the ushanka-donning ginger kept his grip on it tight. He turned back to look at the boy that nearly filled the entire doorframe with his own frame, waiting to see if he had anything else left to blurt before they parted ways, this time on slightly better terms, admittedly.
“You know, I’m always gonna be disappointed there wasn’t bands upon bands of cash in there…Truly the disappointment of all time if you ask me.”
“And you’re not one?”
“Shut up.”
Kyle giggled softly before turning back towards the driveway and exchanging his final goodbyes. Or, criticism, rather.
“No sane person’s gonna keep that much money lying around their house, even if it IS inside a safe. Normal people keep their capital in saving accounts online instead of letting it lay where raccoons like you can dig for it…”
“HEY! I ain’t no fuckass ‘coon!”
“Sure you are Cartman, sure you are…”
As the boy began his trek down the block to his own residence, his companion hollered out:
“I KNOW YOUR MOM’S CREDIT CARD NUMBER, BY THE WAY!”
And with that, the ordeal was over.