Author's Note: Believe it or not, I actually came up with the idea for this fic over two years ago. I just never got around to writing it until now, haha. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it! :)
Disclaimer: South Park © Matt 'n Trey
"Order in the court, assholes!" Cartman shouted at the top of his lungs as he obnoxiously banged a wooden gavel against the table in front of him.
All the other kids, who were sitting around in his basement for the pretend trial, immediately clamped their eyes shut and threw their hands over their ears.
"Dude, Cartman, stop!" Stan said over Cartman's incessant banging. "That's so fucking loud!"
Cartman grinned evilly and abruptly ceased. As everyone sighed in relief and removed their hands from their ears, he brought the gavel back down and struck it hard against the table one last time, just to be a dick, before he finally set it down on the table. He cleared his throat.
"Okay then," he said as he reached up to adjust the tiny—not to mention fake—glasses perched upon his face. "Court is now in session."
He looked up at the Defendant, who already appeared bored out of his mind, not to mention somewhat annoyed. He then glanced over at the Plaintiff, who looked like a little gaywad, as usual, as he rubbed his two fists together and nervously glanced around the room.
Cartman folded his hands on top of the table.
"Mr. Leopold Stotch," he said. "Please tell the courtroom why the hell you're here."
Butters finally stopped rubbing his knuckles together.
"W-Well, uh, I'm here today, Eric, becau—"
"Ah, ah, ah," Cartman interrupted, holding up a hand to shut him up. "In my courtroom, Mr. Stotch, you will refer to me only as Your Royal Highness."
"Oh," Butters said, eyes bulging. He cleared his throat and began again. "Well, Your Royal High—"
"Objection!" Kyle, whom Cartman liked to refer to as the filthy Jewrat, suddenly interrupted, pounding his fist against the table as he rose from his seat. "Dude, it's Your Honor, not Your Royal Highness, you stupid fatass!"
"'Ey!" Cartman said, pointing the gavel at him. "There will be no disrespect in my courtroom, you hear me, Kyle? Now shut you goddamn Jew mouth, you stupid kike!"
"Dude!" Stan said. "Don't call my client a stupid kike!"
"Fuck off, hippie," Cartman said. "I'm the judge, so what I say goes, all right? Do you all understand me? Now, one more wrong move out of any of you, and my trusty bailiff will kindly throw your asses out!"
Everyone looked over at Token, who was standing in the corner, wearing a fake gold badge on his shirt that Kenny had so graciously loaned to him. It had the words FBI: Federal Boobie Inspector written on it. Token arched an eyebrow and glared at Cartman.
"Why do I have to be the bailiff?" he asked.
"'Cause, Token, I already explained this to you, the black guy is always the bailiff!" Cartman said, scoffing. "I mean, duh, you stupid retard!"
"But why couldn't someone else be the bailiff?" Token said. "I'd rather be a lawyer!"
"Hey, hey, the lawyer positions have already been filled!" Clyde said. He glanced over at Butters and slapped him on the back. "Don't worry, man, we got this."
"This game sucks," Token said, stubbornly folding his arms over his chest. "I'd rather be at home playing by myself right now."
"Me too," Craig said from the opposite corner of the room, where he sat along with Kenny, Jimmy, Timmy, Tweek and Kevin Stoley, making up the jury members.
"Yeah, I told you guys we should've played Star Wars instead!" Kevin said like the faggy little nerd that he was.
"Everyone shut the fuck up!" Cartman said, banging his gavel against the table again. "Now, then…as I was saying before I was so rudely fucking interrupted…please proceed, Mr. Stotch."
"Oh, uh, all right then, Your Royal Highness," Butters said. "As I was sayin' before, I'm here today because…well, because I'm suin' Kyle Broflovski over there."
"And why, may I ask, are you suing Mr. Broflovski?" Cartman asked.
Butters' eyes widened slightly. He looked over at his lawyer, Clyde, who gave him a simple nod, encouraging him to go on. Butters let out a sigh.
"Well, I'm suin' him for…well, for sexual harassment, Your Royal Highness," Butters said, to which several of the boys gasped.
Stan looked over at Kyle, who simply closed his eyes and shook his head to himself, already disgusted.
"Hmm," Cartman said, his chair creaking as he leaned back and rubbed his chin. "Interesting. Why don't you tell the court what happened."
"Oh, all right then," Butters said. "Well, it happened last Tuesday, durin' recess. See, I was just sittin' by myself on the playground, playing with some twigs…"
"Loo, loo, loo, I got some twigs. Loo, loo, loo, you got some too!"
I-I was just mindin' my own business, all happy, playin' by my my lonesome with my twigs, when all of a sudden…
"Hey, Butters. Nice twigs you got there."
I look up to see my good pal, Kyle Broflovski.
"Oh, hey there, Kyle!" I said, bein' all friendly. "You wanna play twigs with me? I'm gonna build a castle!"
But Kyle didn't say nothin'. He just looked at me all funny-like. It made me feel kinda uneasy, and I started gettin' kinda nervous.
"Say, Kyle, why are you lookin' at me like that?" I asked him, tryin' not to sound too worried.
And Kyle, well, he just, he sorta just smiled all evil-lookin', and the next thing I knew, he was pullin' down his pants, and—
"OBJECTION!" Kyle shouted, making everyone jump from his whiny, Jew-ratty voice.
"Quiet, Kihl!" Cartman shouted back. "It's not your turn to speak!"
"No, dude, seriously, that's fucking disgusting," Kyle said, now directing his attention at Butters. "If you're gonna completely make shit up like that, then at least make it something that sounds believable."
Cartman sighed heavily.
"Okay," he said. "Mr. Stotch, would you be so kind as to please re-tell your story to the court?" Then he added, under his breath, "Even though some people should just learn to calm down and not get their vaginas all in a fucking twist."
"I heard that!" Kyle said.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you stupid Jew," Cartman said dismissively. "Butters?"
"Yes, Your Royal Highness?" he asked obliviously.
Cartman grit his teeth.
"Tell us what happened already, asshole! We don't have all day here!"
"Uh, Your Honor, if I may?" Clyde suddenly intervened. He was actually wearing a fucking tie, the loser. Seriously, some people took these games way too seriously.
Cartman reached up and adjusted the powdered wig that he'd stolen from his mom's closet.
"Fine, Clyde," he said. "Please tell the court what you witnessed last Tuesday at recess."
Clyde cleared his throat and turned to face the jury, who at that point were hardly paying attention: Tweek kept twitching while drinking out of a coffee mug, Kenny ogled a Playboy magazine and Craig just sat there, being an emotionless asshole.
"Well," Clyde said in his super annoying, nasally voice, "it actually started around lunchtime…"
I was waiting in line to get some steak and tater tots, when all of a sudden a swarm of bitches surrounded me.
"Ooh, Clyde. You're so hot," one of 'em said.
"I know," I said.
"Will you go out with me, Clyde?" another asked.
"Maybe. Now stand aside, whores, I gotta go get some food."
Then, just as I picked up a tray of shitty cafeteria food, I looked ahead of the line to see Kyle and Butters in some kind of squabble. I couldn't hear much, but what I saw was so…so, uh…horrific. Yeah. It was some horrific shit. I saw Kyle, getting ready to take off his pants—
"OBJECTION!" Kyle said.
"Overruled, you filthy Jew!" Cartman said. "Go on, Clyde."
"Oh, uh, right," Clyde said.
Basically, the end of the story was that I saw Kyle flash Butters his wiener, and then Butters ran off screaming like a girl. The end.
Everyone stared at Clyde incredulously, aside from Kyle, who had now slammed his head against the table.
"Very nice, Clyde, very nice," Cartman said, impressed. "Is there anything you'd like to add to that, Butters?"
"Uh, well, Your Royal Highness," Butters said, "I sure didn't appreciate Kyle showin' me his wiener, that's for sure."
"Of course, of course," Cartman said in total understanding. "Now, Mr. Stotch, how big…or should I say small would you say Kyle's wiener is?"
"Oh my GOD!" Kyle screamed, lifting his head from the table. "Dude, are you fucking kidding me?"
"Hey, hey, HEY! One more outburst outta you and my bailiff will throw you out!" Cartman said. "I'm seriously, Kyle!"
"I don't fucking care!" Kyle said. "This is the gayest game we've ever played! It's not even how a real trial works!"
"Well, of course you would know that, Jew!" Cartman said, rolling his eyes, because seriously, that was such a Jew thing to say.
"He's right you know, dude," Stan said out of nowhere, and Kyle's eyes widened as he gave his best friend an "are-you-fucking-kidding-me" look. "I'm just saying, you should've been the one pretending to be the lawyer, not me."
"No way!" Kyle said. "I wasn't going to feed into Cartman's stupid fucking stereotypes like that!"
"All right, all right, order in the motherfucking court!" Cartman said, pounding his gavel some more. "Well, Jew, since you clearly have so much to say, why don't you tell the court your side of the story?"
"What story?" Kyle asked. "Everyone's just making shit up!"
"Can I tell a story then?" Stan asked.
"Dude!" Kyle shrieked, like a little Jew bitch, Cartman noted. "What the hell? Whose side are you on?"
"Well, dude, I mean…it's pretty obvious we're gonna lose this case either way," Stan said with a shrug. "Might as well make up a good story to argue it. Don't worry, I'll make you look good."
Kyle just stared at him blankly for a long ass time before he finally lowered his eyebrows and sighed.
"Fine," he said.
"All right, Marsh," Cartman said, leaning back in his seat so he could prop his feet up on the table. "Let's hear what you got."
"Uh…okay," Stan said, thinking. "I guess…it actually started while we were all in class…"
Mr. Garrison was teaching us about some totally pointless bullshit that's completely irrelevant to everything in the world, but he was still trying to pass it off as some super important knowledge.
"So, you see, children, once Snooki gives birth to her little spawn of Satan guido child, clothing stores will be forced to manufacture more and more expensive baby guido clothing, consisting of items such as douchebag t-shirts, tight ripped jeans and fake gold jewelry, which will, in turn, cause a rapid incline in that particular market, thus throwing off the entire stock market, which will then bring our economy into yet another sharp decline, and eventually lead to an apocalypse by the end of the year, thus destroying the human race that we once knew and loved. Any questions?"
And like thirty hands shot up.
"Okay then, no questions. Now everyone just sit in your desks and shut up until the bell rings."
So everyone started talking, and Mr. Garrison just sat at his desk and pulled out some shitty erotic book called Fifty Shades of Grey that my mom was also reading but I had caught my dad reading it once and jerking off to it in the bathroom.
Anyway, I was gonna take a nap, because I had nothing fucking better to do, but then suddenly I saw Butters get out of his seat and walk over to Kyle. I watched, all confused, as Butters stared at Kyle for a long time without even saying a goddamn thing, until Kyle finally noticed him and immediately looked pissed.
"What?" he said, and then Butters gestured for him to come closer, so he did, and then the next thing I saw was Butters grabbing Kyle's face and pulling him down and kissing him on the lips, and everyone just sort of gasped but didn't do shit as Kyle tried to pull away, even though Butters wouldn't fucking let go, and when he finally did, Kyle was all panting and out of breath and staring at him in shock, and Butters just shyly walked away.
So…yeah. Point of the story is that it was totally Butters' fault, not Kyle's. The end.
"…What?" Stan said, looking at Kyle, who merely shook his head in disappointment.
"Well, geez, that ain't true!" Butters said with a frown.
"All right, I think we've all heard enough," Cartman said. "Let's finish this case so I can fucking eat. Now, jury members, have you reached a verdict?"
"Uhhh…sure," Craig said, shrugging.
"Well?" Cartman said.
Jimmy rose from his seat. "We find the Defendant, Kyle Broflovski…g-g-guil…guiiiil…g-guilty of…of…s-s-sexual harassment."
Clyde grinned triumphantly, while Kyle just rolled his eyes.
"Kewl," Cartman said. "I order the Defendant to pay the Plaintiff…sixty million dollars for emotionally scarring the shit out of him." He pounded the gavel to seal his decision. "Court dismissed. Now everyone get the hell out!"
As everyone filed out of Cartman's basement, Kyle promised himself that he would never agree to play a stupid game like this ever again.
Author's Note: Well, that was ridiculous. XD Sometimes you just need that, though, you know?