(no subject)
Taking in all evidence, the island should've been totally kick-ass. For starters, there was a ferris wheel. A ferris wheel. There was a killer death-bot wandering the jungle, there were monkeys and unicorns and a dragon, and even though Ray was probably just being a total douche-nozzle when he'd told him about them, Cartman was so going to see those dinosaurs on the other side. As soon as he could find a way to get there without having to walk.
Walking totally sucked.
But still, there was some totally cool shit. Superheroes, even if they were all lame little pussies now, without their superpowers, including that dickface in the Iron Man suit. That had been a serious boo boo and his mommy hadn't even been around to kiss it better. So, things weren't quite as cool as they could've been. There were people to order around in the kitchen, but Ray was totally right about it all being hippie tofu crap. That place with the pretentious bullshit "art" on the walls had a fryer, but the guy who owned it was totally queer.
And he didn't have his friends. But that didn't matter, of course, because Cartman totally didn't care. So didn't give a shit about those lame-asses. No way.
So, maybe he should've been happy with the freedom. No school, no adults telling him what to do, but he wasn't. Eric Cartman was pissed.
That is... until he found out about the presents.
The island gave them presents. Anything they wanted, their deepest darkest dreams, and Cartman was totally taking advantage of that shit. So, about a week ago, he'd started THE LIST. It began as a few important items, scribbled in crayon on the margins of a coloring book, but quickly it had expanded. He'd found a ream of paper, and eventually the list was so long, he was having a hard time carrying it around with him all the time, but he couldn't leave it. What if he wanted to add to it or make edits? He had to be smart about this. To Eric Cartman, presents that could come at any moment were a BIG DEAL.
So, he'd found a laundry basket and a length of twine, and he'd made a makeshift wheelless wagon. In it was a stack of paper overflowing the edge of the basket, and he'd been dragging it around like a sweating, grunting pack-mule for two days.That moment, he was huffing it up to the compound, muttering to himself, when suddenly... There it was.
A box.
Only one, but maybe this was only the beginning. Maybe it was eight days of presents without having to be a lousy Jew. Dropping his rope and abandoning THE LIST, Eric Cartman plodded forward at as much of a run as he could muster, shouting, "Yay! Presents. Kick ASS!" and scrambling with his chubby, sausage fingers at the plain brown packing paper.
"So-da-stream Home So-da Mak-er," he read slowly, a grin breaking out on his face, "Soda! Sweet!." But then, his beady eyes narrowed, realizing that this wasn't soda. This was a way to make soda. This was, in other words, going to be work. He was quiet for a long time, staring at the brightly colored box, then he tipped it this way and that, looking underneath and pulling open the flaps to see if anything more fun was hidden inside. Nothing. Just a fountain and some mixes. "What the hell is this?" he shouted, to no one in particular, "I didn't ask for this. Goddammit, you've got to be KIDDING ME!"
[[Once again, please see his wiki for all warnings. Open to all, though tag at your own risk and all that. XD ST/LT more than welcome. This is timed to early evening, before sundown.]]
Walking totally sucked.
But still, there was some totally cool shit. Superheroes, even if they were all lame little pussies now, without their superpowers, including that dickface in the Iron Man suit. That had been a serious boo boo and his mommy hadn't even been around to kiss it better. So, things weren't quite as cool as they could've been. There were people to order around in the kitchen, but Ray was totally right about it all being hippie tofu crap. That place with the pretentious bullshit "art" on the walls had a fryer, but the guy who owned it was totally queer.
And he didn't have his friends. But that didn't matter, of course, because Cartman totally didn't care. So didn't give a shit about those lame-asses. No way.
So, maybe he should've been happy with the freedom. No school, no adults telling him what to do, but he wasn't. Eric Cartman was pissed.
That is... until he found out about the presents.
The island gave them presents. Anything they wanted, their deepest darkest dreams, and Cartman was totally taking advantage of that shit. So, about a week ago, he'd started THE LIST. It began as a few important items, scribbled in crayon on the margins of a coloring book, but quickly it had expanded. He'd found a ream of paper, and eventually the list was so long, he was having a hard time carrying it around with him all the time, but he couldn't leave it. What if he wanted to add to it or make edits? He had to be smart about this. To Eric Cartman, presents that could come at any moment were a BIG DEAL.
So, he'd found a laundry basket and a length of twine, and he'd made a makeshift wheelless wagon. In it was a stack of paper overflowing the edge of the basket, and he'd been dragging it around like a sweating, grunting pack-mule for two days.That moment, he was huffing it up to the compound, muttering to himself, when suddenly... There it was.
A box.
Only one, but maybe this was only the beginning. Maybe it was eight days of presents without having to be a lousy Jew. Dropping his rope and abandoning THE LIST, Eric Cartman plodded forward at as much of a run as he could muster, shouting, "Yay! Presents. Kick ASS!" and scrambling with his chubby, sausage fingers at the plain brown packing paper.
"So-da-stream Home So-da Mak-er," he read slowly, a grin breaking out on his face, "Soda! Sweet!." But then, his beady eyes narrowed, realizing that this wasn't soda. This was a way to make soda. This was, in other words, going to be work. He was quiet for a long time, staring at the brightly colored box, then he tipped it this way and that, looking underneath and pulling open the flaps to see if anything more fun was hidden inside. Nothing. Just a fountain and some mixes. "What the hell is this?" he shouted, to no one in particular, "I didn't ask for this. Goddammit, you've got to be KIDDING ME!"
[[Once again, please see his wiki for all warnings. Open to all, though tag at your own risk and all that. XD ST/LT more than welcome. This is timed to early evening, before sundown.]]