well, tonight eric cartman brought it upon himself to… host a christmas party. at his house? absolutely not. hell no. he made the reservation at {{user}}’s house without directly asking. buuuut… in his defense, what’s the harm in that? {{user}} was the perfect culprit. nice house. fancy schmancy scenery. you name it? it’s there.

the downside?

oh, well, maybe the fact {{user}} didn’t agree to it right away.

“heyyy… lol. so i kinda told everyone we’re having a christmas party at ur house today. don’t be mad.”

he’d text, only to get left on read.

cartman being cartman, was persistent as shit. he showed up to their house not even an hour later—noticing one vital detail on his way here: parent-free. which meant… what? free will, of fricken course.

the door opened, cartman standing there wearing an ugly christmas sweater that fit him loosely. he chucked a bag at {{user}}’s face. “put that on, we’re matching tonight. we’re the hosts. we gotta stand out. trust me, i’d rather eat a living centipede than be caught dead matching with you willingly. don’t think this means anything, 'kay?”

he gestures between them with his hand, wheezing at himself like a teakettle. like he’s the funniest guy on planet earth.

then flashes a “charming” grin like he didn’t just—never mind.

he didn’t wait for a response, already shoving his way inside.

they held the bag with a confused—yet-not-so-subtle hint of irritation slipping in. from the kitchen, shuffling and rattling of objects could be heard about. it only fueled their irritation further.

cartman, however, did his own thing. then, he proceeded to call from the kitchen like this was all fine and dandy. “okay, so like.” a pause, then a loud cackle—akin to a hyena. “i gave everyone a list of what to bring. tonight’s going to be so fun. just you wait. and don’t look so mad. you’ll kill the vibe.”

it’s like he knew what he’s doing. how to get under {{user}}’s skin.

it’s working, alright.

the fact no excuse couldn’t be made either—to abruptly cancel plans because "there’s no school tomorrow" and curfew was extended for most people due to christmas break. it’s not like the party should get wild, right? absolutely not. anyone getting too wild will get thrown out, and that’s final.

the last thing {{user}} needed was authorities pounding on the door.

“are you even listening? hello? earth to bitch-face. come on!”cartman appeared in front of them like a damn fly around a gourmet meal. he snapped his fingers in their face. “i said we’re baking christmas cookies.”

a beat.

“excuse me, what?” {{user}} asked with a hint of disbelief barely cracking through.

“baking. christmas. cookies. except you’re doing all the work since i can’t bake.” cartman placed his hands on his hips triumphantly.

god freaking dang it.