Mephesto printed out the results to the most recent DNA test he’d done and walked over to the printer, ignoring the screaming child behind him. Nonchalantly, he picked up the sheet of paper and scanned the lists of letters and numbers, nodding stoically as he did it. He couldn’t blame the boy for his tantrum; after all, DNA was one of his life’s passions as well. The secrets it revealed were amazing, spectacular, wonderful, pulchritudinous, sensuous…

“Read the damn results! Stop fantasizing about your many-assed animals!” To speed up the process, the angry nine-year-old flung a nearby hamster by one of its many buttcheeks into the donkey with the same mutation. “Do it!” he hollered.

Nodding placidly, Mephesto took another look at the sheet in his hands. Yes, the data was listed here.

“In my hands, I hold the answer you seek.”

“I know that!”

“She resides here in South Park.”

“Well, duh, assmaster! All the samples I collected were from here!”

“It is a ninety-nine point nine percent match.”

“Come on!”

Mephesto, fed up with his client’s interruptions, handed the paper to his midget assistant.

“Child, your ass may be as big as all my beautiful creations’ put together…”

“Aw, you’re gonna stop to lecture me about these freaks being fivesome butt buddies?!”

“…but that doesn’t mean that you have the right to ruin my anticipation building. Be patient,” Mephesto finished.

The boy went livid.

“Dammit, Mephesto, I’ve waited three whole days for these results, and my whole entire life for these answers! Don’t be telling me about building up the anticipation!” He jumped Kevin and tore the paper from his midget hands.

“You should really pick on someone your own size,” Mephesto stated.

The aggressive child was too busy absorbing the facts on the paper to make a wise ass crack about the scientist.

Here in his hands was the answer- so many mysteries and secrets could fall away with this knowledge! His eyes flew over the paper in search of the one sentence that could tell him everything.

“No way.” he swallowed hard. “No way. This can’t be.” Mephesto watched his young client’s face fall in disbelief.

“Mephesto, is this a joke? This is some kind of sick-ass joke, right?”

The mad scientist shook his head.

Eric began to tearfully beg. “No! No! This isn’t true! Do the test again! It can’t be right!”

“I’m sorry. I have no doubt in my mind that this is correct. Everything matches up. Besides, you don’t have the money for another test,” Mephesto reasoned.

“No! No! I can’t deal with this! I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS!” Despite his protests, he knew that there was no denying the words on the page. With dread, he chanced another glance at the paper lying innocently on the floor.

The biological mother of Eric Theodore Cartman was none other than Sheila Broflovski.

This will be the single weirdest thing I’ve ever written about. I’m excited, even if this is a really short prelude to the weird!

If the rating goes up, it will be for language and a deep (gasp!) story, not slash or lemon or any of that. ‘Cause that’s how I roll, dawg.

Please read and review! I don’t bite!