What Pisses Me Off? Vampires!
What makes you angriest?
Disclaimer, warning and apology: Cut for R language of the most disgusting kind. Also, this is Cartman humor at it's most NON-PC. If your brain bruises easily, don't read it.
Mr. Garrison stood in front of the class. Behind him, the blackboard held the lesson plan for the week.
Exploring Alternative Lifestyles
"Now, children, this week, um...we're going to be exploring lifestyles different from our own."
"Does this mean we have to join some faggy boy band again, Mr. Garrison?" Stan glared at Cartman.
"No, Stan. Now that Lance Bass has come out of the closet, no one cares about boy bands anymore." Mr. Garrison shook his head seriously as Wendy burst into wails.
"Dude...you think he'll join the Backdoor Boys now?" Cartman smirked back at Stan. "They can do a 'Joined at the Ass Fudgepacking' tour."
Wendy wailed louder, and Stan threw his pencil at Eric, which hit him in the cheek. "Shut the fuck up, Cartman! Can't you see you're making the girls cry? It's still a shock to them."
"Not as big a shock as it would be if they met him, and slipped him some tongue, and he tried to put his fudgy penis in them or their cat, just to prove to Tiger Beat that he isn't gay."
"Eric! That will be enough about about Lance's lance, thank you. No, children, we're not talking about sexual orientation. That stopped being an alternative lifestyle when Rosie and Ellen got their own shows. I want you to learn about the more alternative alternatives." Mr. Garrison turns, picks up a long piece of chalk, and begins to write a list.
"Fetishism?" Kyle looked at Stan.
"BDSM?" Stan looked over at Cartman. "What the hell does that spell? That's not a word!"
Kyle raised his hand, "Excuse me, Mr. Garrison, but Stan would like to buy a vowel."
"Don't be such a baby, fuck face! BDSM! It stands for something." Cartman scowled.
"Oh, yeah, fatass, what? What does that stand for?" Stan and Kyle waited.
Kenny mumbled, and the boys laughed. "Big Dick Sucking Machine?"
"No, boys. It stands for Bondage, Discipline, Sadism and Masochism. It's a lifestyle choice for millions of perfectly nice people around the world." Mr. Garrison went back to writing.
"Carnival people? Swingers? Polyamorous Communes? Michael Bolton fans? Comic Conventioneers? Fanfic Writing? Nascar racing? Animal Costume Sex Conventions? Nude Surfing? What kind of sick fucks are you wanting us to study, Mr. Garrison?" Stan frowned, thinking how his mom was going to freak when he saw his homework.
But Cartman's eyes lit on one word in the list, and he knew he had found his focus and direction, at least for this paper.
Vampires
But Eric didn't let on, because he knew that this would be a stealth operation, one he would have to do on his own. After a long lecture from Mr. Garrison about medical play and a lunch that no one wanted to eat, Cartman was soon able to hop the bus and head home.
He packed a bag, putting in a cross, a gun, some silver bullets and four boxes of cheesy poofs, and headed out to hunt down some vampies. He didn't have to go far. The International Bloodsuckers Convention and Trade Show was at the Denver Convention Center. Of course, the exhibits only took place from sunset to dawn, so Cartman had to stay up way past his bedtime. He was uncharacteristically cranky when he entered the exhibit hall, and started looking around.
"Would you like a transfusion?" The lady behind the first table smiled.
"What the fuck? Lady, do I look like I need a transfusion?"
"No, you look like you need Jenny Craig. But I have to ask everyone."
"Where are some vampires? I need to interview a couple for my school project."
"Oh...try the Tupperware table, or maybe the massaging chair booth."
Cartman waddled down, sampling the dips at one table, letting the proprietor know that they needed more garlic. Finally, he saw a group of couches in a corner, with three pasty faced people lounging on them. "Are you assholes all vampires? I need to interview some vampires, or Mr. Garrison's gonna make me listen to Michael Bolton CD's, and you know that that bitch Nicolette 'I'm a goddamn Desperate Housewife and a desperate old actress, too' Sheridan doesn't even listen to those things."
The one man, in a red brocade suit, looked up at Cartman. "Boy, I am Leblah blah blah blah blah de Pussywillow, and I am the greatest vampire to ever live. I am also a world famous rock star."
Cartman looked at him suspiciously. "You win American Idol?"
"No."
"The One?"
"No."
"Rock Star?"
"No."
"Star Search?"
"No."
"Ever been the lead singer for Van Halen, dude?"
"They asked. I declined."
"Fucked Courtney Love or Pam Anderson?"
"Both...at the same time. Hasn't everyone?"
"Toured with Ozzy?"
"As a band aid."
"I'm calling poser, dude."
The woman on the other couch laughed, low and deadly. "Interview me. I'm Selena, and I'm the Death Dealer...plus I moonlight as a crossover tejano singer and slutty fashion designer."
The other man across from her sat up, eagerly. "Interview me...seriously. I need the exposure, dude."
"You need a haircut, dude. What the fuck is up with that mullet? You trying to join Billy Ray Cyrus' band? What the fuck?"
"My name's Davey."
"Davey who?"
"Jones."
"Dude..."
"Yeah, I know."
"So, dudes, why do you like this alternative lifestyle? Is it the blood sucking? What does blood taste like, dude?"
Selena shrugged. "Ever have warm Code Red?"
"Yeah."
"Pretty much like that."
"Gross! Here, vampire dudes, have some Cheesy Poofs." Cartman passes a box around.
"I didn't choose to become a vampire, you know! I was a highborn son of France!"
"Dude, French people suck ass. They eat snails and bathe once a month, and they don't like Americans at all, even though they'd give handjobs on the Eiffel Tower for our money, dude."
"All of that was fine, until Magnum showed up, and seduced me."
"Magnum? You mean the P.I. dude with the baseball cap and the Ferrari?"
"Oui, my beautiful Magnum. One look at that tacky floral shirt, and I was on my knees. He's the one...the one who turned me."
"Turned you into what, dude? A faggy French guy blowing old guys with mustaches?"
"A VAMPIRE, YOU PEASANT!" Leblah Blah Blah Blah Blah screeched, in a high pitched whine, nearly choking on a Cheesy Poof.
"I, too, was turned into a vampire. Spektor saw me, as a child, singing in my family's restaurant, and he took me as his own daughter. Of course, he killed my family and lied to me for years. Phil told me my designs would sell, outside of the streetwalker and stripper market, but it was not to be. Now he's on trial for heresy, bad hair and murder." Selena hung her head in shame. "But Monday, I'm meeting a new manager at the Motel 6." She perked up, then jumped at the darkness that moved across the linoleum floor.
"What the fuck was that?" Davey leaped up to stand on the couch.
"Oh, dude...that's just Krycekian floorshadowing. I've seen it before in Daddy Mulder's office."
"Krycek? Is he a vampire, too?" Leblah Blah Blah Blah Blah looked interested.
"That depends on who you ask, but that's not important, now. Now someone go get me a Yoo Hoo, and let's get this bitch interview finished."
............
"...So, in conclusion, Mr. Garrison, I have to say that the thing about the vampire lifestyle that pisses me off the most is that the males are all whiny, candy ass faggots and the girls are all butch. It's an unhealthy lifestyle, except for the low rates of melanoma. They're allergic to everything, and none of them have day jobs. I think vampires are just hippies who suck blood, and that the eradication of this species would benefit South Park and the rest of the planet. The End."
The class sat, slackjawed and staring, as Cartman went back to hop in his seat.
Mr. Garrison coughed, and stepped up in front of the class. "Thank you, Eric. That was very enlightening. Now we will hear from Kenny, who's report is 'Ball Gags and the Sickos Who Love Them'. Kenny?"
Disclaimer, warning and apology: Cut for R language of the most disgusting kind. Also, this is Cartman humor at it's most NON-PC. If your brain bruises easily, don't read it.
Mr. Garrison stood in front of the class. Behind him, the blackboard held the lesson plan for the week.
Exploring Alternative Lifestyles
"Now, children, this week, um...we're going to be exploring lifestyles different from our own."
"Does this mean we have to join some faggy boy band again, Mr. Garrison?" Stan glared at Cartman.
"No, Stan. Now that Lance Bass has come out of the closet, no one cares about boy bands anymore." Mr. Garrison shook his head seriously as Wendy burst into wails.
"Dude...you think he'll join the Backdoor Boys now?" Cartman smirked back at Stan. "They can do a 'Joined at the Ass Fudgepacking' tour."
Wendy wailed louder, and Stan threw his pencil at Eric, which hit him in the cheek. "Shut the fuck up, Cartman! Can't you see you're making the girls cry? It's still a shock to them."
"Not as big a shock as it would be if they met him, and slipped him some tongue, and he tried to put his fudgy penis in them or their cat, just to prove to Tiger Beat that he isn't gay."
"Eric! That will be enough about about Lance's lance, thank you. No, children, we're not talking about sexual orientation. That stopped being an alternative lifestyle when Rosie and Ellen got their own shows. I want you to learn about the more alternative alternatives." Mr. Garrison turns, picks up a long piece of chalk, and begins to write a list.
"Fetishism?" Kyle looked at Stan.
"BDSM?" Stan looked over at Cartman. "What the hell does that spell? That's not a word!"
Kyle raised his hand, "Excuse me, Mr. Garrison, but Stan would like to buy a vowel."
"Don't be such a baby, fuck face! BDSM! It stands for something." Cartman scowled.
"Oh, yeah, fatass, what? What does that stand for?" Stan and Kyle waited.
Kenny mumbled, and the boys laughed. "Big Dick Sucking Machine?"
"No, boys. It stands for Bondage, Discipline, Sadism and Masochism. It's a lifestyle choice for millions of perfectly nice people around the world." Mr. Garrison went back to writing.
"Carnival people? Swingers? Polyamorous Communes? Michael Bolton fans? Comic Conventioneers? Fanfic Writing? Nascar racing? Animal Costume Sex Conventions? Nude Surfing? What kind of sick fucks are you wanting us to study, Mr. Garrison?" Stan frowned, thinking how his mom was going to freak when he saw his homework.
But Cartman's eyes lit on one word in the list, and he knew he had found his focus and direction, at least for this paper.
Vampires
But Eric didn't let on, because he knew that this would be a stealth operation, one he would have to do on his own. After a long lecture from Mr. Garrison about medical play and a lunch that no one wanted to eat, Cartman was soon able to hop the bus and head home.
He packed a bag, putting in a cross, a gun, some silver bullets and four boxes of cheesy poofs, and headed out to hunt down some vampies. He didn't have to go far. The International Bloodsuckers Convention and Trade Show was at the Denver Convention Center. Of course, the exhibits only took place from sunset to dawn, so Cartman had to stay up way past his bedtime. He was uncharacteristically cranky when he entered the exhibit hall, and started looking around.
"Would you like a transfusion?" The lady behind the first table smiled.
"What the fuck? Lady, do I look like I need a transfusion?"
"No, you look like you need Jenny Craig. But I have to ask everyone."
"Where are some vampires? I need to interview a couple for my school project."
"Oh...try the Tupperware table, or maybe the massaging chair booth."
Cartman waddled down, sampling the dips at one table, letting the proprietor know that they needed more garlic. Finally, he saw a group of couches in a corner, with three pasty faced people lounging on them. "Are you assholes all vampires? I need to interview some vampires, or Mr. Garrison's gonna make me listen to Michael Bolton CD's, and you know that that bitch Nicolette 'I'm a goddamn Desperate Housewife and a desperate old actress, too' Sheridan doesn't even listen to those things."
The one man, in a red brocade suit, looked up at Cartman. "Boy, I am Leblah blah blah blah blah de Pussywillow, and I am the greatest vampire to ever live. I am also a world famous rock star."
Cartman looked at him suspiciously. "You win American Idol?"
"No."
"The One?"
"No."
"Rock Star?"
"No."
"Star Search?"
"No."
"Ever been the lead singer for Van Halen, dude?"
"They asked. I declined."
"Fucked Courtney Love or Pam Anderson?"
"Both...at the same time. Hasn't everyone?"
"Toured with Ozzy?"
"As a band aid."
"I'm calling poser, dude."
The woman on the other couch laughed, low and deadly. "Interview me. I'm Selena, and I'm the Death Dealer...plus I moonlight as a crossover tejano singer and slutty fashion designer."
The other man across from her sat up, eagerly. "Interview me...seriously. I need the exposure, dude."
"You need a haircut, dude. What the fuck is up with that mullet? You trying to join Billy Ray Cyrus' band? What the fuck?"
"My name's Davey."
"Davey who?"
"Jones."
"Dude..."
"Yeah, I know."
"So, dudes, why do you like this alternative lifestyle? Is it the blood sucking? What does blood taste like, dude?"
Selena shrugged. "Ever have warm Code Red?"
"Yeah."
"Pretty much like that."
"Gross! Here, vampire dudes, have some Cheesy Poofs." Cartman passes a box around.
"I didn't choose to become a vampire, you know! I was a highborn son of France!"
"Dude, French people suck ass. They eat snails and bathe once a month, and they don't like Americans at all, even though they'd give handjobs on the Eiffel Tower for our money, dude."
"All of that was fine, until Magnum showed up, and seduced me."
"Magnum? You mean the P.I. dude with the baseball cap and the Ferrari?"
"Oui, my beautiful Magnum. One look at that tacky floral shirt, and I was on my knees. He's the one...the one who turned me."
"Turned you into what, dude? A faggy French guy blowing old guys with mustaches?"
"A VAMPIRE, YOU PEASANT!" Leblah Blah Blah Blah Blah screeched, in a high pitched whine, nearly choking on a Cheesy Poof.
"I, too, was turned into a vampire. Spektor saw me, as a child, singing in my family's restaurant, and he took me as his own daughter. Of course, he killed my family and lied to me for years. Phil told me my designs would sell, outside of the streetwalker and stripper market, but it was not to be. Now he's on trial for heresy, bad hair and murder." Selena hung her head in shame. "But Monday, I'm meeting a new manager at the Motel 6." She perked up, then jumped at the darkness that moved across the linoleum floor.
"What the fuck was that?" Davey leaped up to stand on the couch.
"Oh, dude...that's just Krycekian floorshadowing. I've seen it before in Daddy Mulder's office."
"Krycek? Is he a vampire, too?" Leblah Blah Blah Blah Blah looked interested.
"That depends on who you ask, but that's not important, now. Now someone go get me a Yoo Hoo, and let's get this bitch interview finished."
............
"...So, in conclusion, Mr. Garrison, I have to say that the thing about the vampire lifestyle that pisses me off the most is that the males are all whiny, candy ass faggots and the girls are all butch. It's an unhealthy lifestyle, except for the low rates of melanoma. They're allergic to everything, and none of them have day jobs. I think vampires are just hippies who suck blood, and that the eradication of this species would benefit South Park and the rest of the planet. The End."
The class sat, slackjawed and staring, as Cartman went back to hop in his seat.
Mr. Garrison coughed, and stepped up in front of the class. "Thank you, Eric. That was very enlightening. Now we will hear from Kenny, who's report is 'Ball Gags and the Sickos Who Love Them'. Kenny?"