God, FINALLY! This chapter took forever to write. It's a longer one, if that's any consolation.
I did not make up any of the members of the Cartman family. They were all in either "Merry Christmas Charlie Manson" or "Cartmanland."
"I am not wussing out, you butt fucking Jew."
"Lunch is almost over," Kyle said, graciously looking over the insult, "and you still haven't asked her."
"I'm waiting until the moment is right, heeb."
"You're wussing out."
"Look, you God damn Jesus-killer," Cartman snarled, "why don't you go lick Stan's ass? I am not wussing out! In fact, I'm going to ask her right now!" And with that he stood up and stormed over to where Wendy was seated with Bebe. He didn't come to a stop until he was standing right next to their lunch table, because there was nothing like proving Kyle wrong to overcome his nervousness.
Wendy glanced at him, then looked at Bebe. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No, no," Bebe said quickly, giving Cartman a what-took-you-so-long? look. "I think he wants me to leave." She picked up her purse and flounced off, and Wendy frowned at her back until she was out of sight. Then she turned to look at Cartman.
"... Um," Cartman said, and immediately cursed himself. God damn it, he was supposed to be the dynamic speaker of the group! What was it about Wendy that always made him lose his ability to talk? What sort of evil, female powers did she possess? And most importantly, if she were his girlfriend, would she let him exploit those powers?
Wendy inclined an eyebrow, looking impatient, and Cartman cleared his throat.
"I wanted to invite you over to my house for Thanksgiving dinner." He managed the suppress the instinct to tack on a 'ho' to his comment. Cartman was immensely proud of this fact.
She blinked, looking a little thrown. "You're asking me?"
Cartman struggled and was able, with a tremendous effort, to not say 'Didn't I just say that, you dumb bitch?' Instead he said a simple, "Yes."
Now Wendy was frowning at him.
"Why aren't you asking Bebe?"
"Why would I ask Bebe?"
"I thought you liked her. You've been spending so much time with her lately."
"What?" Cartman cried, panicked. He didn't want her to think he liked anyone but her. "I don't like that stupid whore!"
Wendy's eyes narrowed dangerously and her voice got cold. "That whore is my best friend."
Cartman winced. God, why did girls have to be so weird? Why couldn't they call their friends assholes and rip on them the way guys ripped on their friends?
"Um... What I mean is... she's dating Kenny!"
"And," Wendy said slowly, "you wouldn't steal a girl from a friend." She was silent a moment, then smiled slightly at him. "That is rather admirable, considering it's you."
"Um, sure," Cartman said, neglecting to tell her that if anyone was dating her he'd run them down in a tractor then bury their body in a corn field, even if the person dating her in question was family.
"So then why are you asking me?" she asked, her smile fading away as she began to giving him a critical, suspicious look.
Cartman had planned to tell her right then and there how he felt about her. Cartman had stayed up all last night rehearsing what he would say, how he would say it. Cartman had even gotten out the markers and wig he'd used to make J-Lo, and he'd acted out every possible scenario with his hand.
But the second Wendy gave him that look all of his confidence dried up, and he stammered out, "Well, I'm inviting the guys, and Kenny's dragging Bebe along with him, so I figured you could come along and... keep... Bebe... company?"
She blinked, and then her eyebrows drew down a little in a way that he thought could be disappointment, or maybe she was just using her evil female powers to try and read his brain and find out if he was lying. "Oh," Wendy said. "So it's just a get-together among friends."
The bell rang, and Wendy stood up, picking up her tray with the rest of her uneaten food. "All right, then," she said. "I hate eating Thanksgiving dinner with my parents, anyway. I'll get the details from Bebe."
And then she waltzed past him, dumped her trash in the trash can, and left for class.
"Okay, dicks, you're coming over to my house for Thanksgiving."
"Would you quit calling me a dick?" Bebe asked, mildly annoyed.
"Fine, cunt. You have to come too."
"Why do we have to go to your house for Thanksgiving?" Kyle demanded, scowling unpleasantly at the thought.
Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Bebe were seated on and around Stan's couch, playing video games. Or rather, the boys were playing video games. Bebe was painting her nails and trying to figure out what it was with boys and explosions. She had several theories, all of which could be traced back to their sexuality.
"Because, assholes, I said so."
"Forget it, then."
"Kyle, you God damn Jew!"
"You screwed up asking Wendy, didn't you," Bebe sighed.
"Kyle, you motherfucking Jew!"
"Knock it off, fatass, my mom will hear you," Stan said, concentrating on the TV screen.
"Aw, man!" Kenny cried in frustration, throwing down his controller and glaring at Stan. "You just killed me!"
"Will you dicks - and cunt - pay attention to me!" Cartman demanded. When none of them did, he walked over and pulled the plug on the TV.
"Hey, Cartman! I was just about to pound Kyle's ass!" Stan protested, glaring at him.
"Do it on your own time!" Cartman snapped back, which made Stan realize what he'd just said, and he promptly turned red.
"Fuck you, Cartman," Kyle said irritably, putting down his controller. "And you were not, Stan, one more second and I would have blasted you in the face."
"God, this is hot," Bebe commented. Stan and Kyle glared at her and she said, "I knew video games were the gateway to sex."
"Pay attention to me!" Cartman raged. "Or I'll break the TV!"
"Fine, what, we're paying attention," Stan said irritably, because it was a nice TV and he knew Cartman wasn't the sort to make empty threats. "What did you want, again?"
"You're all coming over to my house for Thanksgiving!"
"Why should we?" Bebe asked. "Mom's making my favorite kind of rolls this year."
"Screw your mother's rolls, my mom's a better cook anyway. Look, I told Wendy you were coming over so you're coming over if I have to burn down all your houses and blacklist you from the grocery stores!"
"You can blacklist someone from a grocery store?" Kenny asked, bemused.
"Why'd you tell Wendy we were coming over?" Bebe asked, frowning at him. "My God, now it's a social gathering instead of a date! You've completely switched up the entire situation."
"Wha - it's not that different," Cartman protested.
"Yes, it is! Now you're going to have to act like a host instead of a possible boyfriend. Ugh, boys are so stupid."
"I'll come over," Kenny volunteered. "Be happy to, actually. Can I take the leftovers home with me?"
"No, you poor piece of crap, I don't give handouts," he said.
"I guess I'll come," Bebe said with a sigh. "If Kenny's going. But I guess you'll need me around anyway, or you'll screw it up even more with Wendy."
"Don't give me your back talk, whore, or I'll smack you in the face."
"Well, I don't have anything better to do," Stan admitted. "Shelly's staying at college; Dad got suckered into a Turkey Liberation group, thinking they were talking about the bird instead of the country; and Uncle Jimbo and Ned are just doing their own thing this year."
"'Their own thing,' by which they mean each other," Cartman snorted.
"God damn it Uncle Jimbo and Ned are not gay!" Stan cried, pounding the couch with his fists. "They said they were going to stay home, drink beer, watch the game, and stuff a turkey."
Cartman, Kyle, Kenny, and Bebe all gave him a long, silent look.
"What? So WHAT! That doesn't mean anything!"
"Denial isn't healthy, you know," Kyle said. "I only say this because I have your best interests in heart."
"They're straight, Kyle!"
"Yeah, like a circle," he said, spinning his index finger around in a loop.
Stan flopped back into the couch and glared at him, then glanced back at Cartman. "My point is, I'm in."
"Good," Cartman said, and then they all looked at Kyle.
"... What? I don't want to spend a holiday with Cartman," Kyle said, making a face at them.
"Kyle, if you screw up my chances with Wendy, I'll... do something so terrible to you I don't even know what it is!"
"Wow," Bebe said, awed. "You've pissed him off so badly you've dried up his creatively sinister juices."
"Dude, c'mon," Stan said while nudging him with his foot, thus demonstrating that he had, in fact, been exaggerating his leg injury so that he could press up against Kyle and still claim a certain degree of heterosexuality. "You aren't going to abandon me to these freaks, are you?"
Kyle frowned at him. "Hell no! Why should I ruin my Thanksgiving to help Cartman out?"
"Dude, come on..." Stan wheedled. "What do you want, for him to say please?"
"Ha! That'll be the day."
They all stared at Cartman, who'd clapped his hand over his mouth. He seemed horrified that that word had come out of his mouth. When he pulled his hand away, he made a face.
"Ugh... I just threw up inside my mouth."
Kyle was staring at him, his eyebrows raised in something like awe.
"You really do like Wendy, don't you?"
"More than I hate you." Which was the closest Cartman had ever come to properly vocalizing just how much he really did like Wendy.
"All right," Kyle grumbled, letting out a sigh. "I'll come to your house for Thanksgiving. But so help me, Cartman, you better not try to slip me ham again."
"You didn't tell us the rest of your family would be here," Kyle hissed at him, vivid.
"Well I didn't know!" Cartman snapped at him. He'd only found out a family reunion would be held at his house this year when he'd happened to mention to his mother that his friends were coming over for Thanksgiving, so she better cook enough food, God damn it. She'd put up a token resistance, but he'd whined and she'd caved in like the Cave of the Winds.
"I'm not holding any catheter bags!" Kyle cried like, Cartman thought, the bitch he was, as he crossed his arms.
"Oh, shut up, Great Grandma is dead anyway," Cartman growled. Kyle's bitch-tastic attitude was setting him on edge, and he fingered the edge of his sweater. Though Kyle maintained that putting on a nice sweater wasn't the same thing as being nice, Cartman didn't see how it could hurt.
Everyone was here except Wendy. God, what if... what if she wasn't going to come? Were girls allowed to change their minds like that? God damn it, it was another one of her evil female powers!
"Relax, Cartman," Stan said, who, by virtue of being an emo pussy fag, was the only one there who was remotely sympathetic to his plight.
"I AM relaxed," Cartman barked at him. "I'm the picture of calm! In fact, Buddha better watch his ass!"
"So your trying to replace a religious icon now," Kyle mused. "Well, you're fat enough."
"Choke on Stan's dick and die, you heeb!" Cartman snarled.
While Kyle and Stan were sniping with Cartman, Kenny was entertaining himself in a wholly different manner.
"Holy shit - Cartman has a hot cousin? Cartman? Why am I only just learning this?"
"Dude," Kyle said, getting fed up with Cartman's numerous variations of 'gay Jew' and turning to talk to Kenny, "you have a girlfriend."
"Hot damn, she is hot," Bebe said.
"See?" Kenny said, grinning at Kyle. "That's why she's my girlfriend."
"You're whores, the both of you," Kyle said, shaking his head.
The doorbell rang, and Cartman shoved Stan flat on his ass and trampled over him to reach the door. Unfortunately, his uncle Stinky got there first.
"Aw, aren't you just a cute little thing! You my little nephew's girlfriend?" he drawled. His great bulk was blocking the door, so Cartman couldn't see Wendy's expression. This also meant she couldn't see his, which, considering he just about died on the spot, was a very good thing.
He quickly composed himself as Uncle Stinky stepped aside to let her in, and he heard her say, "No... I'm... just a friend." Cartman couldn't figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing - after all, he didn't want her to be 'just a friend,' but on the other hand, it would be a good thing if she considered them friends, right?
And then Cartman's brain jacked off, because he finally caught sight of her, and she looked gorgeous. Cartman decided he was in love with pleated skirts and white sweaters. In fact, if people were allowed to marry articles of clothing, he would have called for a double wedding on the spot.
Wendy's eyes swept around the room, and they ended up on Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Bebe. She smiled brightly at Bebe, and the girls greeted each other, and then she caught Stan's eye.
"Hi, Wendy," he said with a touch of nervousness, because this was the girl he'd been pining after for a good six years, after all.
"Hello, Stan," she said in a somewhat detached voice. Stan gave her a wane smile, and Kyle reached out, grabbed his hand, intwined their fingers, and promptly broke every bone in Stan's hand.
... Well, maybe not. But there was an audible crack.
"Taking after your uncle?" Wendy asked, sounding politely curious, as she looked at the death grip Kyle had on his hand.
"Wah - no! Uncle Jimbo is not gay!" he yelped, distracted momentarily from the pain of his hand.
"Hm. If you say so." Wendy looked away and finally looked at Cartman, who was composing himself. Again.
"Hey, Cartman," she said, and gave him a grudging smile. "Nice sweater."
"Um, you too," he said. Bebe was behind Wendy, waving her arms to get his attention and mouthing 'introduce her!' at him.
"Right, this is my family," he said, suddenly wishing they were much more impressive, and not a bunch of fat hicks from Nebraska. If they had an ounce of the ambition he possessed, they'd all be multimillionaires, and he wouldn't have to feel ashamed of them. "Uncle Stinky, Aunt Lisa," he began with the man who'd given Wendy her horrible first impression and his red head wife. "Fat Bob-"
"Fat Bob?" Kyle repeated. "Why's he called Fat Bob?"
Cartman ground his teeth. That God damn Jew. "Because he's the fat one."
Kyle started snickering, which made Cartman fume. He glanced sideways at Wendy, fearing the worst, but she wasn't laughing at him. She was standing patiently, waiting for him to continue.
"... and my cousins, Fred, Alexandra, and Elvin," he said, pointing to a short man, and woman with enormous blond hair, and a nine-year-old, respectively. The nine-year-old was currently whining and tugging on his mother's dress.
"MOOOOOM, I wanna 'nother fudge-cicle," he whined loudly.
"All right, sweetie, there are more of them in the kitchen," Aunt Lisa said
"Wow, he's just like you were when you were that age, fatass," Kyle hissed at him in an undertone, amused. Cartman swelled with indignation, about to rip the God damn pillow biter's head off, when someone else spoke up.
"He is not."
They all turned to stare at Wendy.
"Cartman had much more flare then that," she said casually. Kyle looked stupefied.
"It's nice to meet you, Wendy," Cousin Alexandra said, and then they all advanced and began making small talk. Kenny went back to staring at one of the two relatives Cartman didn't introduce (the other being a man with a horrible comb-over and a purple jacket.
"HOW is she so hot? I mean, she's a member of the Cartman family!" Kenny hooked Cartman by the elbow and dragged him over. "Dude, how is she so hot?"
"She's a hermaphrodite," Cartman said, wrenching his arm from Kenny's grip and vowing to kill him some day soon. Wendy was over there with his aunts and uncles, and every word they said to her was cementing her against him! He didn't have time for Kenny's shit!
"What?" Kenny said, paling a little.
"She's a hermaphrodite," Cartman repeated angrily. "It runs in the family, you can always tell because they're the slim ones, all right! My mother was the same way when she was that age, now go fuck yourself, I don't have time for this!" he said, storming back over to Wendy and his relatives.
"She's a hermaphrodite?" Kenny said, looking like breathing had just been outlawed. Bebe, on the other hand, was now raking the girl with her eyes.
"Kenny, honey..." she cooed, turning her head to smile sweetly at him, "I think it's time we considered an open relationship..."
"Whores," Kyle said, much alarmed. He backed away from them as if he feared it were catching, shaking his head and muttering, "Whores..."
Cartman re-approached Wendy and his family members, and paled when he realized which story they were telling her. It was The Zoo Incident. That horrible, dark secret in his past that the guys would never stop ripping on him for if they ever heard. Panicking, Cartman grabbed the TV remote and waved it under Fat Bob's nose.
"Who wants to watch football?" he asked as though he were speaking to a group of dogs, catching their attention. He flung the remote at the couch. "Go get it! Go get it!" he crooned, and they all dove for it.
And then he was alone with Wendy, who was looking at him with a curious look on her face.
"Why would you do that to penguins?"
"I was young! I needed the money!" he cried, distressed, fearing his extended family had destroyed any chance he had with her. But Wendy neither recoiled in horror nor laughed herself sick at his expense. She merely muttered a "Mm," and glanced over at Kenny, who was breathing into a paper bag while Bebe rubbed his back.
"So..." Cartman said, hating that all his smooth words dried up around Wendy. "Do you want a, uh, soda or some shit?"
"Sure," Wendy said, and he left for the kitchen. Elvin was in there, watching Terrance and Philip reruns on an old portable TV and clutching a box of slowly melting fudge-cicles to his chest. Cartman swung the refrigerator open and removed a soda, which he'd made his mother get in the old-fashioned bottles, though it was twice the price for the same amount of soda. He thought it looked cooler.
"Mom," he whined, turning around to look at Liane, "when is dinner gonna be ready?"
"Soon, sweetums," she said, pouring liberal amounts of gravy into the mashed potatoes... just the way he liked them. The doorbell rang suddenly and she put down the spoon she'd been scooping it on with, uttering an "Oh!" and hurrying toward the door.
Cartman followed after her, confused. Wasn't everyone here already? But then she opened the door and he stared at two men in matching orange jumpsuits.
"Howard!" she gushed. "I'm so glad you could make it! Oh, and you brought your friend Charlie."
"... Is that Charlie Manson?" Wendy breathed, coming up beside him. Her eyebrows were raised in surprise.
"Um, yeah," Cartman said, and when she stared at him he shrugged. "Old family friend?"
"Hmm..." she said, accepting her soda from Cartman and taking a sip. "Do you want me to take Bebe into the den or something?"
"What?" he asked, completely thrown.
"That's why you inviting me over, isn't it?" she said. "To keep Bebe company so you could hang out with your friends."
"No!" he said quickly. "I mean. Once she and Kenny start sucking face it would take surgery to remove them. Why don't we go to the den instead, I don't want to have to look at them inhale each other."
Wendy laughed. "Me, neither," she said. She took another sip of her soda, and then she said, "Sure, why not?"
Kenny and Bebe, it just so happened, weren't sucking face, though Bebe would have much preferred that. Kenny was actually stuffing his face.
"You know when Cartman was threatening our personal property to make us come over, and I said 'I'll come if Kenny is'?"
"Uh-huh," he grunted, loading a chip with salsa.
"Well I assumed we'd be making out by now."
"Sorry," he said, swallowing so that he could talk. "Trust me, you don't know how sorry. But if I don't eat, then I don't have any energy, and if I don't have any energy, then I can't even screw my hand."
"HM," Bebe said, placing her hands on her hips and looking most displeased. "NOBODY turns down Bebe Stevens."
"Sorry," Kenny said, cramming some more chips into his mouth.
She gave him a hard look, then swung the refrigerator open, removed a can of whipped cream and chocolate syrup, and then bore down on him.
"You need to eat?" she said. "Fine; you'll eat," and then she grabbed him by the draw strings of his parka and pulled him up the stairs. They didn't come back down until Liane called everyone in for dinner. Uncle Howard entertained them with stories of jail, and everyone else entertained Wendy with stories of Cartman's youth.
... Cartman hated his family. So much. Because every story that made Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and Bebe howl with laughter and bang the table was another story that completely devastated his chances with Wendy. And things had been going so well, too! They'd sat in the den and watched a little TV, mocked a couple of Thanksgiving specials, and Wendy had started to complain about the boy who was running against her for class president.
"His whole campaign strategy is to tell people I'm a transsexual! I mean, that's blatant slander!" she'd raged. "I went to the principal but he believes it, so he won't do anything!"
"Well why don't you start spreading rumors that he likes to crossdress?" he had suggested. "You could put up posters of him in skirts and print 'Vote Wendy' underneath. I guarantee you'd get votes."
She frowned at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to berate him for his underhanded suggestion, but instead she said, "I don't have any pictures of him in skirts."
He'd grinned. "So just get Timmy to photoshop it for you."
"Why would Timmy do something like that for me?"
"Because he has a crush on you."
"Who doesn't? ... I mean," Cartman had said, and swore under his breath, "I mean, this Peanuts special sucks ass. I wish the turkey would just strangle that dog."
"... Hm," Wendy had said, and taken a sip of her soda.
But NOW... God, she wouldn't want anything to do with him. Why did God always have to dangle the things he wanted in front of him, only to take it all away? Cartman couldn't get out of dinner fast enough. When the meal was finally over, he escaped through the back door.
Everyone else retired to the living room, lounging on couches, chairs, and the floor as they digested. Wendy was looking over at Bebe, wondering if she really wanted to know how her best friend had gotten whipped cream in her ear, when Charlie Manson approached her.
"Wendy, right?" he said, and she nodded. "Would you like to come with me to someplace more secluded, Miss Wendy?" he asked. Wendy thought it over, then shrugged and stood up, following him into the kitchen. After all, he was only a mass murderer.
"Miss Wendy," Charlie Manson said, "it seems to me that Eric likes you."
"You think?" she asked evenly.
"I am to understand Eric is a bit of a problem child."
"That's one - extremely mild - way of wording it," Wendy said.
"Miss Wendy, perhaps I am overstepping my bounds, but I just felt a bit of kinship with that boy. Don't write him off immediately; anyone can change. Take me, for example. I planned and carried out numerous gruesome murderers, but all it took was the right mixture of Christmas specials to make me change my ways."
"I get what you're trying to say," Wendy said, brushing off the front of her skirt. "But all you did was lead a cult. No offense, Mr. Manson, but you're no Eric Cartman."
And then she went outside.
"Hey, man," Kyle greeted Stan, who was seated on Cartman's front porch. He'd seen him talking to Cartman's cousin with the big hair, then utter a scream of outrage and leave the room. "What's up?"
"Cartman's cousin just asked me when my uncle was going to make an honest man out of Ned and tie the knot," Stan said in a low growl.
"Ah," Kyle said, his eyes rolling skyward.
"It makes no sense!" Stan cried dramatically, his arms stretching out on either side of him. "It makes no sense, Kyle! I just met her two hours ago!"
Kyle looked sadly down at him, then joined him on the steps, tucking his knees against his chest. "Man..." he said slowly. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea."
"Woah, wait, WHAT?" Stan said, twisting around to face him, his Jimbo/Ned plight completely forgotten.
"You've obviously got a lot of denial issues," Kyle muttered, picking at his nails. "And you're still hung up on Wendy..."
"Is that why you tried to bend all my fingers backwards?" Stan said, giving him an aghast look. "Dude, I don't like Wendy. I mean... Cartman likes her. She's been tainted for life," he tried the joke, but Kyle still looked morosely at his fingers. Stan sighed and leaned toward him.
"Look, you know how Wendy said, 'Taking after your uncle?', and I said no, 'cause they aren't gay-" Kyle gave him a look, which he didn't let deter him "-but I am."
Kyle grinned at him, finally, because Stan was finally admitting it without prodding in the form of a wooden bat. Stan flexed his fingers and said, "That really hurt, you know."
"Sorry," Kyle said, hooking him by the pinkie and planting a kiss on his knuckles. Stan leaned forward impatiently to catch him on the mouth because, for all his clinging to Kyle, he hadn't kissed him since Cartman had gotten him in detention. It was, incidentally, much better when you didn't get stopped halfway through by a bat-wielding maniac. Kyle made some happy noises, because Mr. Closet Case was kissing him where anyone who drove past could see.
And because this was South Park, it just so happened that at that exact moment Jimbo and Ned drove past, not that wither boy noticed them.
"... Huh," Jimbo said, shaking his head. "I would've sworn on my father's grave it would be Shelly." He glanced over at the passenger-side seat. "All right, Ned, a bet's a bet. You're on top tonight."
Cartman was seated in his clubhouse, quietly lamenting his love and wondering when, exactly, he'd turned into such a tremendous pussy.
He was also lamenting Kenny's future, because poor people were only good for physical labor, and this club house was very poorly put together. But, really, it was his fault. He should have hit Kenny harder when he'd been building it, back when they were eight.
"There you are," said a feminine voice, and Cartman froze and stared as Wendy hauled herself up the ladder and sat down on the edge of the clubhouse, her legs dangling off the end and hanging into space. She glanced around the tree house, then looked at him. "Pretty nice club house."
"Been in many?"
"Only one other," she said, rearranging her legs and skirt so that they sat more comfortably. She smiled a little at him. "Yours is much nicer." Cartman couldn't help but smirk, because he knew for a fact she was talking about Stan's.
"You should come back inside. Your mom's going to serve dessert soon."
"I don't want to."
Wendy mock-gasped, placing a hand over her heart. "Eric Cartman doesn't want dessert?"
"Oh, ha. Ha ha ha. Bitch," he growled. He could be nasty to her, now, because she wasn't going to date him. His family had ruined that chance. She frowned at him and let her hand drop.
"Fine, then I'll stay out here with you," she declared matter-of-factly. She looked down at her legs and swung them back and forth while Cartman gave her a surprised look.
"... You know, Cartman, Charlie Manson tried to convince me you weren't such a bad guy, really."
Wendy smiled briefly at him. "But, you know, I think anyone who thinks you're redeemable are very greatly underestimating you. Because... you're really something, you know. I'm just not sure what."
She drummed her fingers against the floor of the club house and then she admitted, "I don't know where I'm going with this. It's just... I don't want you to get redeemed, because if you weren't the self-absorbed asshole you are, you'd never have jumped through so many hoops to get me over here. You wouldn't be half as dedicated."
Cartman gaped at her, because that was a bit much to process all at once. So... Wendy knew he'd just wanted her to come over? How could see know that? Evil female powers? She liked him?
"Hey, Cartman," she said, smirking. "Truth or dare."
"... Dare," he said, in the smoothest voice he could manage.
Wendy leaned forward to kiss him.
And then the entire club house fell right out of the tree.
It was the worst moment of Cartman's life. He apologized and cursed Kenny out for be a shoddy carpenter and helped her out from under the rotten boards, wishing the earth would open up and swallow him whole. Of course, it was a crappily made tree house, and of course, it couldn't support to full-grown teenagers, and of course, it had to give way the exact moment he was about to get kissed by the girl in the hottest sweater and skirt that had ever been made.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, laughing a little as she righted herself.
"This is all Kenny's fault."
"Of course it is," she agreed with him. "Do you want to go inside for dessert now?"
"... No," Cartman said, pulled her closer, and kissed her. And she kissed him back, because God liked him after all.