I Should Have Told The Secretary
OOC:As part of his never ending quest across fandoms to find his father, Cartman is taking a strange twist. I can only blame his mun's serious love of Spader for this.
Cartman's standing in the rain outside the office building, his purple vinyl rain poncho offering little protection against the torrential downpour. He had tried for weeks to get an appointment with this lawyer, the one his mother had worked for, so long ago. But time after time, he was refused. So when he came to Florida, to visit his Aunt Edna, he took the bus over to the law offices of E. Edward Grey, to confront the man in person.
There was a sign out front that had a bunch of light bulbs around it. "Secretary Wanted" was illuminated in the driving rain. Stepping up to the door, Cartman pushed it open. He held a paper in his hands, and tried to shake off the water on him, as a woman carrying a box hurried past him.
"Hello? Hello?" Cartman called down the long hall that was lined with dead plants on shelves, with a framed picture, here and there.
"In here."
He turned, and waddled down the hallway, until he reached the ornate and heavy door. Shoving it open, he saw some guy behind a desk, messing with his hair like a flea bitten terrier on crack.
"Are you the lawyer, dude?" Cartman looked at the guy, and scratched his ass under the poncho.
"Yes." The man stared at him, bug eyed.
"Listen, dude, it said secretary out there." Cartman came over, to the front of the desk, and handed him the paper. "These are my shot records, dude."
"Are you pregnant?" Grey spoke quietly.
"Are you fucking kidding me, dude?"
"Do you plan on getting pregnant?"
"Why, you trying to sell something to The National Enquirer?"
"Do you live in an apartment?"
"No, I live in a fucking house."
"Alone?"
"With my mommy."
"Siblings?"
"My little brother. You writing a book?"
"Are you married?" The creepy guy turned and flipped a switch at his desk, and some lights and mist came on over some freaky pink flowers.
"I'm in the third grade, dude. I never even felt up a tit before."
"Have you ever won an award?"
"Yeah." Cartman looked around as half a dozen mice ran over his wet feet.
"What did you win an award for?"
"Most foul smelling farts, and pie eating, but I cheated on the last one."
The lawyer picked up a dart and began to dial the phone with it. "Get me some coffee, with sugar."
Cartman resisted the urge to tell him to get it his own damn self, but only because he wanted to find out if this freak was his daddy. So he went out to the kitchen and dumped some coffee grinds and sugar in a green cup, but there was no water in the dispenser. He couldn't reach the sink faucet, so instead, he went down the hall to the bathroom, and took some out of the tank at the back of the toilet. Stirring it up, he carried it in and set it on the desk.
But Grey didn't drink it. He was reading the records.
"Your mother used to work for me. I remember her."
"Yeah, dude. She said she was your secretary. Worked her ass off for you." Cartman looked at the golfers on the man's tie. They were making him dizzy.
"Speak up, Eric. You're a big boy and can get a much bigger voice out of that chubby throat of yours. Here, climb up on this desk, on all fours. I have a saddle and a carrot for you..."
Cartman stared. "Dude...are you fucking out of your mind? Look, I don't know what the fuck is your gig, but I will have your fat ass in court before you can say 'Michael Jackson', dude. I know Denny Crane, mister."
"Eric, do you really want to be my son...or secretary?"
"Is that a trick question? " Cartman was creeped out, as the man moved behind him. He was sweating bullets.
"This isn't just about pens and paper clips and DNA, is it, Eric?" Grey spoke low, over Cartman's shoulder.
"No, dude."
"Pull up your skirt."
"What the fuck?"
"I said...pull up your skirt." Grey was quiet, even eerie. "I know that as the possible subject of a paternity suit, Eric, we have a prescribed relationship. But I want you to feel...free...to share your problems with me. Why do you eat so much, Eric?"
"I'm hungry, dude. And you're seriously creeping me out." Cartman was thinking that running for the door might be a good idea.
"Is it that there's a hunger inside you that just can't be filled, and when you stuff your face with chips and candy, it brings the hunger to the surface and you can..."
Cartman cut him off, and backed away. "Dude! You are seriously twisted. Look, asshole, are you MY daddy, or not? Goddammit! I need to know!"
"No, Eric. I didn't fuck your mother. I have no interest in that at all. I spanked her. I made her eat what I said, do what I said. I had her bark like a dog for Scooby snacks. She even crawled on her hands and knees to the grocery store to buy me a can of peas. But I never had sexual intercourse with her."
"You are one sick puppy, lawyer boy."
"I like you, Eric, but I'm not going to offer you the job. It's your behavior. And your coffee."
"What about my behavior?"
"It's very bad. Not as bad as your coffee. But very bad. Now...get out."
Cartman jumped at the order. "What are you doing?"
"GET OUT!"
Going down the hall, Cartman smashed the pictures and frames, knocking the plants down with his umbrella. As he went outside, he saw a dark haired girl, standing in the rain.
"Here, take my poncho, you're getting fucking soaked."
"Thanks." She put on the purple rain garment, and looked around. Suddenly, the light went back on around the sign for a secretary.
Cartman snorted, and saw the bus coming. Another wasted trip. And long after he was back home in South Park, he regretted that he didn't tell that girl that the lawyer guy was a freak.
He should have warned her.
Cartman's standing in the rain outside the office building, his purple vinyl rain poncho offering little protection against the torrential downpour. He had tried for weeks to get an appointment with this lawyer, the one his mother had worked for, so long ago. But time after time, he was refused. So when he came to Florida, to visit his Aunt Edna, he took the bus over to the law offices of E. Edward Grey, to confront the man in person.
There was a sign out front that had a bunch of light bulbs around it. "Secretary Wanted" was illuminated in the driving rain. Stepping up to the door, Cartman pushed it open. He held a paper in his hands, and tried to shake off the water on him, as a woman carrying a box hurried past him.
"Hello? Hello?" Cartman called down the long hall that was lined with dead plants on shelves, with a framed picture, here and there.
"In here."
He turned, and waddled down the hallway, until he reached the ornate and heavy door. Shoving it open, he saw some guy behind a desk, messing with his hair like a flea bitten terrier on crack.
"Are you the lawyer, dude?" Cartman looked at the guy, and scratched his ass under the poncho.
"Yes." The man stared at him, bug eyed.
"Listen, dude, it said secretary out there." Cartman came over, to the front of the desk, and handed him the paper. "These are my shot records, dude."
"Are you pregnant?" Grey spoke quietly.
"Are you fucking kidding me, dude?"
"Do you plan on getting pregnant?"
"Why, you trying to sell something to The National Enquirer?"
"Do you live in an apartment?"
"No, I live in a fucking house."
"Alone?"
"With my mommy."
"Siblings?"
"My little brother. You writing a book?"
"Are you married?" The creepy guy turned and flipped a switch at his desk, and some lights and mist came on over some freaky pink flowers.
"I'm in the third grade, dude. I never even felt up a tit before."
"Have you ever won an award?"
"Yeah." Cartman looked around as half a dozen mice ran over his wet feet.
"What did you win an award for?"
"Most foul smelling farts, and pie eating, but I cheated on the last one."
The lawyer picked up a dart and began to dial the phone with it. "Get me some coffee, with sugar."
Cartman resisted the urge to tell him to get it his own damn self, but only because he wanted to find out if this freak was his daddy. So he went out to the kitchen and dumped some coffee grinds and sugar in a green cup, but there was no water in the dispenser. He couldn't reach the sink faucet, so instead, he went down the hall to the bathroom, and took some out of the tank at the back of the toilet. Stirring it up, he carried it in and set it on the desk.
But Grey didn't drink it. He was reading the records.
"Your mother used to work for me. I remember her."
"Yeah, dude. She said she was your secretary. Worked her ass off for you." Cartman looked at the golfers on the man's tie. They were making him dizzy.
"Speak up, Eric. You're a big boy and can get a much bigger voice out of that chubby throat of yours. Here, climb up on this desk, on all fours. I have a saddle and a carrot for you..."
Cartman stared. "Dude...are you fucking out of your mind? Look, I don't know what the fuck is your gig, but I will have your fat ass in court before you can say 'Michael Jackson', dude. I know Denny Crane, mister."
"Eric, do you really want to be my son...or secretary?"
"Is that a trick question? " Cartman was creeped out, as the man moved behind him. He was sweating bullets.
"This isn't just about pens and paper clips and DNA, is it, Eric?" Grey spoke low, over Cartman's shoulder.
"No, dude."
"Pull up your skirt."
"What the fuck?"
"I said...pull up your skirt." Grey was quiet, even eerie. "I know that as the possible subject of a paternity suit, Eric, we have a prescribed relationship. But I want you to feel...free...to share your problems with me. Why do you eat so much, Eric?"
"I'm hungry, dude. And you're seriously creeping me out." Cartman was thinking that running for the door might be a good idea.
"Is it that there's a hunger inside you that just can't be filled, and when you stuff your face with chips and candy, it brings the hunger to the surface and you can..."
Cartman cut him off, and backed away. "Dude! You are seriously twisted. Look, asshole, are you MY daddy, or not? Goddammit! I need to know!"
"No, Eric. I didn't fuck your mother. I have no interest in that at all. I spanked her. I made her eat what I said, do what I said. I had her bark like a dog for Scooby snacks. She even crawled on her hands and knees to the grocery store to buy me a can of peas. But I never had sexual intercourse with her."
"You are one sick puppy, lawyer boy."
"I like you, Eric, but I'm not going to offer you the job. It's your behavior. And your coffee."
"What about my behavior?"
"It's very bad. Not as bad as your coffee. But very bad. Now...get out."
Cartman jumped at the order. "What are you doing?"
"GET OUT!"
Going down the hall, Cartman smashed the pictures and frames, knocking the plants down with his umbrella. As he went outside, he saw a dark haired girl, standing in the rain.
"Here, take my poncho, you're getting fucking soaked."
"Thanks." She put on the purple rain garment, and looked around. Suddenly, the light went back on around the sign for a secretary.
Cartman snorted, and saw the bus coming. Another wasted trip. And long after he was back home in South Park, he regretted that he didn't tell that girl that the lawyer guy was a freak.
He should have warned her.