Chapter Text
Kyle was wriggling in his seat on the podium, trying his hardest not to spontaneously combust from sheer irritation. It was a nice, though a bit chilly, Saturday morning, and he had been planning to enjoy his parents’ trip to Aspen by sleeping in.
Well, the 'enjoying' and 'sleeping' parts now were only apparent in his checked pajama trousers, sticking out lamentably from his long winter coat. God, they could have at the very least allowed him to change into something more… going-out? Or perhaps eat something?
He looked around.
The community center was getting more crowded with each minute, but still, he would’ve managed to squeeze in a tiny breakfast before whatever this meeting was supposed to begin.
‘’Hi, dude.’’
Kyle’s gaze steered languidly to his side only to meet Stan. He seemed as tired and unhappy to be there as him, but at least he wasn’t sporting pajama bottoms.
‘’Hi,’’ Kyle grunted groggily and gestured vaguely with his hands. ‘’Do you know what bullshit is so important to herd the whole town here? And why did you get to wear something sensible; what humiliation ritual is this?’’
Stan ruffled his hair, a complete bedhead disaster, and huffed tiredly.
‘’No idea.’’ He took the chair next to Kyle, the one a middle-aged woman had ushered him into. ‘’And you know I sleep only in my boxers; Mom would kill somebody if they dragged me outside naked.’’
Kyle scoffed and hid his face in his palms. The stampede of voices flowing in the hall, enriched by every new addition coming through the main entrance, amplified the heaviness in his mind, making his head hang low, his posture slumped in the chair. How he wished to cocoon himself in his favorite blanket, so warm, so cozy-
‘’Dude,’’ Stan’s croaked whisper snapped him out of his sleepy haze. Damn, he was so close to forgetting where they were. ‘’It’s the Mayor.’’
He lifted his eyes with disbelief. Mayor McDaniels, in the recent years, had become less of a public figure she had used to be, probably due to her age. So her sudden appearance made quite an uproar in the crowd. Kyle himself was genuinely surprised and, deep inside, scared, even. Why did this commotion start to feel so important?
And most importantly, as he had only noticed, why were Stan and he the sole people at the podium?
Stan nudged his side and pointed at Kenny, already waiting in the second row with Butters. They waved encouragingly at him, which Kyle happily returned. Well, at least he wasn’t alone, right? He fished out from the crowd more of his friends – Tolkien, Clyde, Jimmy, Craig and Tweek cuddled in the background. Everyone was there.
Wait, everyone aside-
‘’Hello, people,’’ the Mayor tapped the mike, which sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine, and spoke. ‘’We’ve gathered here to discuss a serious dilemma that has been brought to my attention earlier this morning. I give the floor to the person who helped the City Council understand the severity of the situation – Eric Cartman.’’
Everyone looked in a mix of amusement and annoyance towards the boy that had materialized out of nowhere and was now climbing up to the stage. Stan just groaned and pinched his nose, but Kyle wasn’t as tolerant of bullshit.
The warmth of his blanket had completely evaporated by now.
‘’What are you scheming this time, fatass?’’ He hissed aggressively from his uncomfortable chair.
Yet Cartman didn’t grace him with an answer, just waltzed to the speaker carefreely and offered the crowd one of his most innocent (and fake) smiles Kyle had ever seen.
‘’Hello everybody,’’ Eric started and smoothed out the papers in his hands. ‘’As our lovely Mayor has explained, I’m here to bring to light a really, really, seriously problem.’’
He sauntered to the whiteboard that was standing in the corner of the podium only to face away the assembly for a dramatic second. Then he spun around and punched the poor prop with an expression that a biblical martyr would envy.
‘’Yesterday,’’ he continued, pointing with an accusatory finger towards Stan and Kyle. ‘’ I was brutally denied my right to attend the sleepover by those two!’’
Kyle rolled his eyes to the heavens and leaned back.
‘’Really? This whole shitshow because of a sleepover? God, you’re fucking eighteen!’’
‘’Besides, it wasn’t undeserved; you blew up Kyle’s-‘’ Stan tried to accompany his best friend, but Cartman cut him.
‘’It’s fine; God has taught me the way of forgive and forget! I do not hold a grudge!’’ He sniffled and continued solemnly, but the statement caused Kyle to raise an eyebrow and exchange a distrustful glance with Stan. ‘’I get it now, okay? I get it.’’
‘’What do you get, besides diabetes, fatass?!’’ Kenny shouted from the public, erupting a wave of snickers in the hall. However, the fatass didn’t react, and that could have meant only one thing—he had something big up his sleeve. The realization made Kyle’s hands clammy, so he crossed his arms and did his best to keep the confident facade on.
‘’I get why they didn’t want me on the sleepover.’’ Cartman answered, pacing beside the whiteboard. ‘’Let me ask you this question: why would two people deny spending some quality time with their closest friend on a beautiful Friday evening?’’
The crowd murmured agitatedly while Stan had to hold Kyle so he wouldn’t scratch Cartman’s or his own eyes out.
‘’Stop spewing bullshit, for fuck sake!’’
‘’Cartman, we told you, it’s because you blew up Kyle’s-‘’ Stan tried again, the sheer exhaustion resounding in his tone.
‘’It’s okay, Stan—I knew you would deny my words just like you did with my right to partake in the sleepover. That’s why I’ve done my research." He turned his body to the crowd and spat out each syllable with loud clarity. ‘’I’m gonna prove it to everyone with the power of science!’’
The Community Center filled with excited 'ohs' and indignant 'ahs,' but nobody interrupted the madness that was unfolding before Kyle’s eyes. He decided to firmly believe that it was all a stupid dream, that he would wake up and not have to deal with any of this.
Yet he was not granted mercy, instead being forced to watch as Cartman wrote in capital letters a single word on the board.
FLAMES
"Everyone, silence, please! I’ll now explain the theory.’’
Kyle had to fight Stan at this point to hit Eric. Because what did it mean he had to sit there and listen to the asshole talking about a childish game like it was an illumination from God that allowed him to form a scientific formula? Newton’s reincarnation, everybody.
There were too many wrong things with the situation at hand, and it was starting to hit the roof of Kyle’s tolerance for bullshit. Kenny laughed incredulously, and Butters squeaked audibly. Even Craig in the farthest corner, the famous owner of a field barren of fucks given, was now witnessing a miraculous germination – he grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with being there.
"For those uneducated in social analytics," Cartman declared, tapping a squeaky (just a tone lower than Butters) red marker against the board, "FLAMES is an ancient, infallible algorithm. Friends. Lovers. Affectionate. Marriage. Enemies. Siblings."
He aggressively circled the letters until the whiteboard trembled like a leaf.
"Are you fucking serious?!" Kyle burst out, half-rising from his chair before Stan yanked him back down by his coat tail. "You dragged the whole town here at eight in the morning for a middle-school fortune-teller game?!"
"Silence, Kyle! The scientific process does not care about your menopause!" Cartman barked back, not missing a beat. He turned back to the crowd, slapping the board for emphasis. "Now! I cross-referenced their full names—Stan and Kahl—using the standard algorithmic subtraction method!"
‘’My name is not KAHL, you fucker!’’ Kyle, held down by Stan, decided it was high time for a change of tactics, so instead of throwing himself, he took off a shoe and aimed for the fatass’ face. Unfortunately, he dodged.
‘’Are you sure, Kahl?’’ Cartman pulled out a single sheet from his folder. ‘’Well, it just so happens I called the hospital in New Jersey, and this may be a copy of your birth certificate. Mayor, would you be so kind?’’
In the front row, Mayor McDaniels leaned forward to grab the paper. Then she nodded solemnly. "That’s legitimate indeed. Go on, Eric."
A second shoe was unfortunately dodged too.
"As you can see," Cartman continued, drawing rapid, nonsensical arrows between the letters, "after canceling out the duplicate letters, the math doesn't lie. They didn't ban me from the sleepover because of the air fryer incident. They banned me because…"
He paused, lowering his voice for maximum theatrical effect.
"…the formula crossed out straight to 'M'. Marriage."
The hall erupted.
‘’WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!!’’ Kyle yelled, losing his sanity faster than he wished to.
‘’We aren’t married!’’ Stan chimed in, his face full of horror. ‘’And I’m dating Wendy!’’
Cartman smiled once more, visibly satisfied with the reaction his actions had caused.
‘’I knew you would use such an argument.’’ He turned to the whiteboard and wrote Stan’s and Wendy’s names, then did his calculations of questionable quality. ‘’Do you see? It’s ‘E’!’’
‘’Enemies!’’ Someone from the crowd gasped. Stan was already sporting a migraine from all this shouting and his nose-pinching.
‘’Precisely.’’ Eric nodded and then continued. ‘’But I’m aware it may not be enough to convince everyone present. So let me give you a few more examples.’’
Soon after, on the board appeared such name combinations as Tweek and Craig, the town’s favorite gay couple; Kenny and Butters, a fresher thing in the community. Or even Linda and Stephen, the Stotches, who seemed too invested in the 'formula.' Every one of them received ‘L’ to their satisfaction.
‘’May I check it?’’ Someone asked suddenly. ‘’As a scientist, I believe it should be my role to verify it.’’
‘’Oh, absolutely.’’ Cartman gestured to the place next to him and the whiteboard. ‘’Please, everybody, welcome our town’s scientist – Mr. Marsh!’’
‘’Oh, Jesus Christ.’’ Stan muttered and resigned from engaging anyhow in the shitshow. He leaned back in his chair and started humming some melody absent-mindedly.
Seconds later, Randy stepped back with obvious incredulousness in his gait.
‘’Impossible!’’ He uttered, shocked, shaking his head. ‘’But… it works!’’
Kyle managed to take a look at the scribbles Mr. Marsh had left on the board – he was the only one, besides Eric, able to do so – and saw ‘Randy’ and ‘Marijuana’. Then he facepalmed. Perhaps he should learn from Stan how to handle bullshit.
‘’But I know you’re still not believing me, Kahl!’’ Cartman struck a dramatic pose. ‘’That’s why I’ll check your parents next! Would you be so nice to remind me what their names were?’’
Kyle sent him a scowl, but sadly it was all he could do—he was out of shoes, after all.
‘’It’s Sheila and Gerald, Eric!’’ He didn’t need to glance at the public to know it was Butters’ voice.
As Cartman performed his 'science,' everybody got quiet, while the air became filled with expectancy. A collective gasp could be heard when he presented them with ‘M’ as a result.
‘’Marriage. Isn’t that right, Kahl?’’ Eric asked with a shit-eating grin.
‘’But Stan and I aren’t married! If that stupid theory of yours was even in the slightest true, wouldn’t we be marked as lovers?!’’
Some heads of the public nodded, and rushed whispers supported Kyle’s counterargument. Maybe he could turn the tide? The townspeople weren't known for their intellect; perhaps he could still turn this around—
‘’And this is exactly why we are here today,’’ Cartman cut through his hopes immediately. ‘’Using my right to call the shenanigans and the scientifically proven formula, with the power bestowed upon me by our Mayor and God himself, I declare it’s time to vote!’’
"VOTE FOR WHAT?!"
"Vote for whether you should be legally required to marry tomorrow, Kahl.’’