Nonsense About Romance
Chapter 4: Faggy McGay Fag
written by domolovesyou - illustrated by Noxicosis and SynnesaiAt some point, Cartman had stopped being really fat. Not that he was skinny or buff or average at all—it was more like he had become round rather than flabby and fat. It wouldn’t have been inaccurate to call him fatass, though, since he did still have a fat ass, and he ate like one, too.
He was currently eating all of Stan’s popcorn as they sat in front of his TV, playing video games again. “Think you can chew any quieter?” said Stan, kicking from atop the couch. He was stuck with Cartman again, because Kyle was too busy doing homework and Kenny was God knows where. Perhaps he was with God himself.
“Shut up, fag, I’m the guest, you’re supposed to treat me nicely,” said Cartman, and then giggled.
“What?” Stan gave him a dirty look.
“Just thinking how it’s actually true that you are a fag.”
“I’m not a fag!”
“You have a gay little crush on Kyle, Stan.”
“Just because I have a gay little crush doesn’t mean I’m a fag!”
Cartman didn’t understand Stan’s logic there, as he turned and blinked at him. Then he resumed eating his popcorn, saying, “Whatever.”
“I’m not a fag!” Stan insisted. “I like Kyle, but I’m not going to turn into one of those stupid teenage girls who pine after boys all the time.”
“How long have you liked Kyle, anyways?” said Cartman, munching on as many piece of popcorn that his large mouth could fit. “Maybe he used his manipulative Jew powers to get you to like him.”
“Shut up.” Stan scowled. “I don’t know, maybe for a few months? It’s not like it’s a bad thing, though, since he’s Kyle and all—”
“Eugh.” Cartman made a face. “Don’t say that again. Those words make me shudder.”
Stan grinned. “And I think he’s cute and sexy and sweet with that dark ginger hair of his—”
“AYE! SHUT UP!” Cartman had put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. “KYLE IS A DIRTY JEW RAT,” he sang to himself in a mantra. “KYLE IS A DIRTY JEW RAT.”
Stan watched him in disbelief, and then took the opportunity to snitch the popcorn bowl from him. Unfortunately, since this was Cartman, he failed as Cartman put his elbow in the bowl which was heavy enough to keep it down.
When Cartman finally uncovered his ears and stopped singing to himself, Stan said, “Are you just going to sit in my house and watch me play Call of Duty? Shouldn’t you be finding something better to do?”
“Nah,” said Cartman brightly. “I think it’s swell that we’re hanging out together, Stanley, with no soulless gingers or poor white trash around.”
“… do you want something from me, or something?”
“No, no, it’s fine!” said Cartman innocently, in that not-innocent-at-all Cartman way of his.
Stan raised his eyebrows again, but didn’t ask any further questions.
Cartman struggled with himself to ask his next question, as if he’d been resisting asking but his curiosity couldn’t handle it. “So before you liked the pussy Jew, did you ever like that ho?”
Stan rolled his eyes. “What ho?”
“You know what ho.”
“No, I don’t.”
“That ho.”
“How specific.”
“You know which goddamn ho I’m talking about!”
“There are a lot of goddamn hoes in the world, Cartman.”
“That skanky bitch hippie cunt!”
“Oh.” It dawned on Stan whom he was talking about. “You mean Wendy.”
“Yeah, that ho.”
“No, I didn’t like her,” said Stan, shrugging. “I haven’t liked her since the sixth grade. No big deal.”
This didn’t seem to be a good enough response for Cartman, as he forced himself to ask another question. “Has the ho, you know, been involved with anyone?”
“Why do you want to know?” Stan asked suspiciously.
“So I can warn whoever she likes or who likes her that she wants to help hippies and women take over the world!” said Cartman. “Now tell me who she likes! Respect mah authoritah!”
“I don’t know,” said Stan, mildly bewildered at Cartman’s reaction. “I think she dated Token in sophomore year, but she’s been single since then, I think?”
“Goddammit,” said Cartman, pulling out his iPhone that his mom had gotten him last year after much whining and kicking and screaming and crying, despite that Cartman had been sixteen. “You are completely useless, Stan.”
Stan ignored him as Cartman went on Facebook on his phone and creeped on Wendy’s profile. It currently read:
Interested in Men
Relationship Status Single
“That bitch,” Cartman whispered.
“What?”
“Her profile says that she’s a libertarian! I didn’t know she was a fucking libertarian!”
Stan thought that somehow, Cartman’s saying this sounded both fond and endearing of Wendy, but was sure that he was imagining it.
“Of everything, she calls herself a fucking libertarian! That’s like calling yourself a black Jew Mexican Asian cat-killing hippie ginger!”
“I swear to god, if you rag on Jews or gingers one more time, I’m going to kick your ass,” said Stan.
“Aww, defending your butt-buddy?” Cartman teased.
“You can shove all your insults up your ass,” said Stan, reaching down and successfully stealing a piece of popcorn from him.
They continued on in silence for a little while, but Stan suddenly wanted to talk about Kyle along with the fact that he liked him, now that he had someone to talk to. The problem with telling someone your secret was that it suddenly felt like the basis of your relationship. Unfortunately for Cartman, the basis of his and Stan’s relationship was Stan’s faggy crush on Kyle.
“Do you think that it’s possible he likes me back?” Stan asked Cartman.
“I don’t think it’s possible for someone with no soul to like anyone. But you guys are fags,” added Cartman thoughtfully.
“He hasn’t liked anyone ever though. At least, he’s never told me.” Stan was suddenly fearful. “Could it be possible that he doesn’t want to tell me about his love life? Do you think he’s keeping secrets from me? We’re supposed to be best friends!”
“I wouldn’t put it past that sneaky J—ow!” Stan had just kicked him very hard in the head. “What the hell was that for?”
“I did say that if you ragged on Jews again, I’d kick your ass,” said Stan, and then sighed. “Kyle’s probably straight, though, or asexual. We never talked about it, but I always assumed that he wasn’t gay.”
“Kyle’s not man enough to like pussy.”
“And you’re saying that you’re a man?” When Cartman nodded, Stan scoffed. “You once had Kyle suck your dick, Cartman. Kyle suck your dick.”
“Because I knew he was repressing his sexuality, duh.” Cartman said it with an air as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I knew deep down inside he was a cock-lover and he enjoyed it.”
“Even if he were a cock-lover, he wouldn’t enjoy yours.”
“I’ll have you know that my dick is plenty enjoyable, thank you very much.”
“I wouldn’t know,” said Stan, and then gave him an unwarranted kick. “I’m not gay. I only like Kyle.”
“And that’s what makes you faggier than all other fags.”
Kenny hadn’t been with God, actually (though God certainly knew where he was.) He was at home, with the porn Stan had dropped off at his house a few days ago after that bastard Cartman had killed him. He’d been using it as masturbation material since then (the porn, not Cartman. Ew.) and Chef had been right—it was a great collection. The greatest. There were naked women and titties everywhere, fucking each other or having naked men fuck them. When Kenny saw those naked men, somehow his orgasms were infinitely more epic. He reasoned it was because he could picture himself in their positions.
He rolled over on his bed and sighed, his limp dick falling back down from his hands. Non-stop masturbating was fun, but his fingers were getting tired and his wrist was cramping up. He wondered if Stan still had John Edward’s book on How to Sixty-Nine with Yourself. Then he remembered that Stan and Kyle had laughed at it when they found it again back in sixth grade, and then burned the book in fond memory of John Edwards. Kenny thought that they were pussies to not read it. It would be enlightening, learning how to sixty-nine yourself.
His hand went for his dick again, but as he lazily glanced over to the porn mags in Chef’s old box, he felt that he couldn’t get hard anymore. Was there even such thing as masturbating too much, or having too much porn? Kenny certainly felt that way right now, since Kyle and Cartman weren’t eighteen yet, and Stan had expressed no interest in Chef’s bequeathal as he had been the one to dump the whole thing on Kenny’s doorstep (though Kenny swore that a few were missing—it seemed like there were empty gaps. Then again, his dad could have looted through it before Kenny came back from Hell.) But he wasn’t feeling up to reading the porn anymore.
He wasn’t even feeling up to girls anymore.
Which was weird. Maybe it was because he was feeling let down by all the possible girls he wanted to go out with, or who wanted to go out with him. He felt jealous of Kyle’s fagginess because it was easy for him. Even though Kyle would never have the balls to do anything, all he had to do was tell Stan that he liked him and wanted to be fucked by him and whatever, then Stan, if he was up to whatever gay relationship Kyle wanted, probably wouldn’t mind since they were “Super Best Friends” and all, and they would have loads of sex. They were guys; of course they would.
Kenny suddenly didn’t want a girlfriend anymore. He wanted a boyfriend. Usually he’d be okay with being single, but he’d rather be in a relationship right now. He was likeable and good-looking, right? Why was he single, then? And even though he leaned more towards girls, there was nothing wrong with guys, either. “I’m pansexual,” he said out loud, and then chuckled. That wasn’t an inaccurate statement.
Well okay, maybe it wouldn’t be that easy, because even though he wasn’t ugly and was pretty likeable, he didn’t shower as often as most and smelled bad. And on occasion, he’d pick up the habit of smoking, just because it was fun. Oh, and he died. A lot. That could be a turn-off.
He closed the lid of the porn box and put it under his bed, saving it for a rainy day. As he pulled the hood of his parka up and zippered it shut so he could go to sleep, his mind was set on finding a dude to like.
“Sup, guys.”
No one looked up as Cartman waddled over to them at the bus stop. He had his backpack in one hand, and a large duffel bag in the other. He looked at the three of them, disappointed.
“Aren’t you guys gonna ask what this is?” he asked, swinging out his duffel bag.
“Is it a statue of yourself?” said Stan boredly.
“No.”
“Is it a statue of Mel Gibson or Hitler?” asked Kyle.
“No.”
“Is it the prototype of some complex torpedo that you plan on using to bomb a country?” said Kenny.
Cartman stared at Kenny. “No!” he said, in a response that so clearly meant “yes.”
“What country are you planning on bombing, Cartman?” said Kyle sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Let me guess: Israel.”
“He wants to—” Stan started, but then Cartman ran over and covered his mouth to cut him off.
“Ah ah ah,” he said to Stan with a grin. “You remember our promise, right Stan?”
“Promise? What promise?” said Kyle, looking between them.
Cartman gave him a smug smile. “A promise between me and Stan because we share secrets and you don’t know them, you dirty Jew.”
“That’s not true! Stan’ll tell me anything!” Kyle flared up.
The bus came at that moment (Shelley had the car today so Stan couldn’t drive them) and the four boys got on to the back. Stan and Kyle sat with each other as Cartman and Kenny sat behind them. Kyle felt nervous every time he was in some enclosed space with Stan, like that one time in seventh grade when they’d been accidentally deported to Egypt and Cartman was a dumbass enough to want to steal the treasures from the pyramid tomb so Stan and Kyle walked in first, but before Cartman and Kenny could enter, the pyramid had slammed shut as a result of a booby trap and Stan and Kyle were trapped in there for two hours until giant sand-eating bees came out of nowhere and nearly destroyed the whole tomb.
Kyle wasn’t sure if he’d been more nervous then, or now.
He tried to shake the feeling off and make his nervousness as undetectable as possible. So what if the whole side of Stan’s warm body was pressing against his? So what if he could see Stan’s long legs in front of him, clad in dark blue jeans? It was no big deal. Not at all.
“So what was Cartman going to do with Israel?” he asked, knowing that Stan would have told him sooner or later even if he made a dumb promise with Cartman.
“Oh, um, you know,” said Stan. “He wants to get rid of the Jews.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “That assface. When’s he ever gonna give it up? Me and my people aren’t going to die to some fat fuck like him.”
“Aye! I can hear you!” There was a kick on the back of their seat.
“I know you can! You are an assface and a fat fuck!”
“Shut up, you—”
“Jew, and then Kyle calls you fat, and you guys continue debating whether it’s worse being Jewish or being fat.” Kenny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We just shouldn’t waste narrative space with something you guys have been arguing about for the past fifteen years.”
“Wow, dude,” said Stan. “What crawled up your ass and died?”
“You know that porn stash Chef gave us?” said Kenny.
“Yeah? I thought you’ve been making love to it every moment you can.”
“I have,” said Kenny, and then sighed. “But like. It’s all girls, you know. All girls.”
“Kenny, don’t you be turning into one of them fags—”
“And I’m in the mood for dudes now.”
“Aww no. Awwwwww no,” said Cartman, getting up from his seat and struggling to walk into the aisle. “That’s it, I don’t want to be sittin’ next to this fag anymore. Screw you guys, I’m out.”
“I thought we didn’t like homophobes,” said Kyle.
“Yeah, but having Kenny gay? That’s almost worse than having one of you two guys gay,” said Cartman, indicating Kyle and Stan, which made no sense because Cartman knew Stan’s current love interest. Then again, even though Stan could be deemed with the title “fag”, he wasn’t exactly “white trash” or “poor” like Kenny was.
Cartman hopped from the back of the bus to a bit further up front, ignoring the bus driver’s shrieks for him to sit his ass in a seat. He ended up sitting with a bunch of girls, which Stan, Kyle nor Kenny took much notice of.
“Dude,” said Kyle. “Don’t tell me you want to bang dudes, too.”
“I’m not all about the bangin’ Kyle! I care about other stuff than that!” When Stan and Kyle merely gave him a look, Kenny added, “Well, on the side, anyways. Banging is nice, but remember what I told you about wanting a relationship?”
“No,” said Stan, but Kyle said, “Yeah, I remember. That applies to guys, too?”
“What’d he say about wanting a relationship?”
“Apparently all girls want to either have sex with him but no relationship, or want a relationship with him but have no sex,” said Kyle. Stan raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “They’re religious people who think Kenny’s a little angst cake who needs his soul saved and someone to take care of him.”
“Oh,” said Stan, like that made sense. “So, what? You’re gonna resort to gay porn now?”
“No, I’m getting a dude,” said Kenny. “I just need to find a dude to get. How about either of you two?” he said with a mischievous grin, though he knew that Kyle would say no and wouldn’t let him take Stan.
And Kyle did give him a look, while Stan laughed and said, “Nah, dude, nothing against liking guys but you’re not my type.”
“Ooh, you have a type now,” teased Kenny, his eyes darting to Kyle, who blushed. Luckily, Stan didn’t notice.
“How about we help you find someone to go for?” Stan suggested. “Like Kevin. Kevin’s nice.”
“Kevin’s also an OCD neat freak,” said Kenny. “I don’t think he’d be happy hanging out with me.”
“Tweek?”
“I wouldn’t be happy hanging out with him.” Kenny shuddered. “Though sex with such an energetic dude does sound nice, but I don’t think I can stand him any other time.”
“He made a good replacement for you that one time, though,” said Kyle, and Kenny shuddered again.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Craig?”
“Asshole,” dubbed Kenny, and they all nodded.
“Clyde or Token?”
“Clyde always smells like tacos, and Token’s… Well, he is rich,” said Kenny thoughtfully. “I don’t know if he’d be willing to hang out with me though. He might think that I only want him for his money and his good looks.”
“Wouldn’t you only want him for his money and his good looks?”
“Yeah,” said Kenny, so that was out of the question.
“Oh, I know!” said Kyle, raising himself up on his seat so he could scope out the bus. “How about Butters? He’s loyal so he could be into your relationship, and he’s kind of a pushover so you could probably convince him to have sex with you. Cartman does that all the time.”
“Ew, I don’t want to touch something Cartman touched.” Kenny crinkled his nose.
“Oh, it was just that ball-sucking incident, don’t worry.” Kyle waved him off. “I’m pretty sure Butters is clean. If he isn’t, his parents would have grounded him by now.”
“True.” Kenny looked thoughtful. “And he is cute.”
“Yeah,” agreed Stan and Kyle, proving their heterosexuality even more.
“You know what?” said Kenny. “I think that is an excellent idea. I’m going to try to get Butters, and so help me Satan if I fail.”