To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Eric Cartman, and I'm going to die soon. A doctor hasn't told me so, but I see it coming. I'm writing this letter because I want everyone to know the truth when I'm gone.

I don't usually defend people. In fact, I usually don't give a crap about people. But I'm going to defend Kenny McCormick. He's not a rapist like some assholes are saying. In fact, he's probably the only one who understands what I'm going through. He's just as addicted as me, only to sex. That's why we did what we did. If you hear anything else after my funeral it's a god damn lie.

See, the reason I'm dying is because I'm addicted to food. Before you call me a fat ass with no self-control, let me tell you some things, numb nuts. I had kidney problems when I was eight years old. I knew that wasn't good. I was the only kid that got kicked out of fat camp. That was just humiliating. I've read the stuff on gluttony in the Bible and seen the "experts" on TV saying that eating too much is bad for people. I know all that stuff, and I still want to eat the same crap I always have even if it's unhealthy for me. I'm addicted and I'm not going to stop. I can't stop. So all you people saying I could've prevented my death by getting on a treadmill can kiss my cold, dead ass! You have no right to judge an addict unless you've been one yourself.

Last month I was hungry. There wasn't any good food in the house since my stupid mom put me on whatever diet was popular that week. I didn't have my driver's license yet and I couldn't walk to the store, so I called Kenny. I knew he'd share his food with me unlike my other dickhead friends. Kenny asked what was in it for him though, and eventually we made a deal. I said I'd give him what he needed if he gave me something to eat that didn't taste like leafs.

After we stripped down and got on my bed, Kenny sat in my lap and started feeding me gummy bears. I was pretty surprised. He actually waited for me to get comfortable with this gay stuff. That's more than I would've done. I didn't say anything to him, but the fact that he was patient meant a lot to me. I know it's not easy waiting for your fix.

After the gummy bears were gone, Kenny took out a jar of peanut butter. He smeared it on his lips like lipstick and kissed me like a total fag. I hated putting my mouth on his, but it was worth it for the peanut butter taste. Before I knew it I was licking and sucking his mouth like I'd been a queer all my life. He started moaning when I did that, so I guess I'm good at making out.

I pushed Kenny down on my bed and spread more peanut butter on his chest. If I had to do this I was at least going to make him the bitch. I licked down his chest, and by the time my tongue got to his stomach I knew what I was going to end up doing. I reached into the food bag he brought and pulled out a can of whipped cream. It was getting pretty messy, but my sheets needed cleaning anyway.

I covered Kenny's cock and balls in the whipped cream and started licking it off. He was hard as hell so I figured it wouldn't take long to get him off now. I wanted to get it over with. I just closed my eyes and moved my lips up and down his cock. He moaned a lot when I sucked him, so I guess I'm good at giving head too. I was getting pretty used to it after a while. The flavoring didn't hurt.

He finally shot his load after a couple minutes, but Kenny wasn't done with me yet. He offered me all of his Halloween candy if I'd just let him get me off too. He said he wanted to make sure I got more out of this than food. I could've used that much candy, so I wiped my mouth off and said sure.

He pulled a bottle of lube out of his bag and poured some in his hand. He started beating me off while I sat there eating chocolate. I didn't want to get hard but I couldn't help it. Those fags know how to work a penis.

Once I was up, Kenny fingered himself and then started riding me. It was gross at first, but like everything else I got used to it. His ass was nice and warm, and he knew how to work that too. Pretty soon he had me moaning. It was actually going pretty good until my mom walked in. I came between Kenny's butt cheeks right before he got thrown out of my house.

Like I said before, Kenny McCormick is NOT a rapist! A rapist only cares about what they want. They don't make people comfortable. They don't care if they're hurting someone. Kenny cared about me, even if he was making me do something I think is sick and wrong. Or at least I used to think that. I don't really know anymore.

Kenny knew being gay goes against all my beliefs, but he was just another addict who needed his medicine. I can't blame him for that, and I don't, but I've never said so out loud. I probably never will. That's why I wrote this. I don't want to die without someone knowing the truth.

We were just feeding an addiction.