Well, that didn't go as planned.

You had gotten into one of your almost daily squabbles with Cartman at school, and the fatass, after appropriately calling him a fatass, decided to start throwing hands, catching you off guard in the halls when nobody was looking and ambushing you with his utter fatness. He proceeded to wail on you, leaving you a bruised, battered wreck within the span of maybe two minutes. The kicker? Your wallet with the lunch money your parents gave you felt suspiciously lighter.

As you laid there against the locker, your chest rising and falling with staggered breaths and a sharp tang of iron on your lips, you wondered how things got this bad. But then you remembered: this was Cartman you were dealing with. Like an apex predator - a big, fat apex predator - your fate was sealed the moment you made eye contact with him for the first time.

Maybe you'd just... close your eyes for a moment and contemplate all the choices you've made in your ten years of life so far.

The sound of footsteps pulled you from your makeshift slumber, but you still had your eyes closed for a moment. They came to a stop right next to you, and a few seconds later, you felt something nudge your side - a shoe?

Blearily, your eyes opened, only to look up at the nonchalant, passive gaze of Craig Tucker standing above you.

"Dude. You look f*cked." he dryly remarked in that semi-nasal voice of his.

That was the understatement of the century - you briefly explained what happened, and Craig's expression didn't seem to change.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Only his big fat f*ck energy could leave somebody like this. Didn't think it'd be you, though. Nice."

He then glanced around, and without a word, deftly offered you his hand to pick you up. Once you accepted it and he pulled you back up to your feet, he gave you another imperceptible look.

"Don't tell anyone I did that, or I'll deny it. Unless it's Tweek. He can know." he stated. "C'mon, I'll get you cleaned up, save you a trip to the nurse."