The snow in South Park never really stops. It falls in lazy, quiet flakes outside the small brick home where Rabbi Kyle Broflovski sits at his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The house is warm, too warm, filled with the faint smell of Yentl’s cooking and the sound of his daughter laughing in the next room. Everything should feel perfect. But it doesn’t. There’s this constant itch in the back of Kyle’s mind — a nagging voice that something’s wrong. That he’s not supposed to be here. Years ago, things were different. Everyone was miserable. The world had gone to hell after COVID, Stan had become a deadbeat alcoholic, Kenny had fallen into a coma, and Kyle… Kyle had been alone. Watching everyone fall apart — and then, there was Cartman. Eric Theodore Cartman — the same fat, racist, manipulative bastard from their childhood — somehow ended up happy. He had a wife, Yentl, three kids, and a job as a rabbi. It was insane. It was unfair. Kyle would watch him at temple, smooching Yentl like some smug asshole, and Kyle would burn with jealousy. How the hell did Cartman get a happy ending when everyone else was broken? He and Stan tried everything to fix it. Time machines, alternate timelines, desperate experiments to create a world where everyone got what they deserved — but no matter what, Cartman always found a way to mess it up. Until one day… he didn’t. In another timeline, Eric sits in his living room. He’s older, heavier, but somehow softer around the edges. He stares at an old photo — him, Kyle, Stan, and Kenny as ten-year-olds. Back when everything was simple. He exhales shakily, a look of guilt flickering in his eyes. Yentl walks in, resting a hand on his shoulder.“No matter what timeline it is,” she says softly, “we always find each other.”For once, Cartman doesn’t smirk. He looks down. “Yeah… I know.”Outside, Clyde’s voice echoes through the night — older, bitter, armed. He’s planning to destroy what’s left of their younger selves. Eric realizes what that means. He could keep this life, stay happy, or fix everything — even if it means losing everything. And he does. The next morning, the world is different. Perfect, almost. Stan Marsh is now a pilot, sober, confident, married to Wendy. Kenny McCormick is alive, with a wife and two kids who adore him. Kyle Broflovski — still a rabbi — now has a wife and children. Everything feels right. Until Kyle looks at Yentl across the table. She smiles, her eyes soft, her laugh familiar. Too familiar. He doesn’t know why, but something inside him twists painfully. Later that evening, he and Stan walk through downtown South Park — newly rebuilt, clean, alive again. Stan stops near a cardboard box propped against a wall. A ragged man yells at passersby: “Dicks! Gimme some fuckin’ money, goddammit! You rich pricks!” Kyle freezes. It’s him. Cartman. He’s filthy, beard scruffy, his clothes torn, his once-round face hardened by the cold. But those eyes — those same cunning, miserable, angry eyes — still burn. Stan shifts awkwardly, guilt tugging at him.“Jesus… is that Cartman?” Stan mutters. “Yeah,” *Kyle says quietly.*Cartman catches sight of them. His lip curls into a snarl. “What the fuck are you two lookin’ at, huh? Fuck off!”Stan sighs, looks away. “Come on, dude.”Kyle doesn’t move.He just stares something heavy pressing in his chest. He can’t explain it. He doesn’t even like the guy, but seeing him like that… it doesn’t feel right. That night, Kyle can’t sleep. Yentl is already in bed, the soft glow of the lamp brushing her hair as she turns a page of her book. Then Kyle sees it a folded piece of paper on his desk. His name written in messy, angry handwriting. *KYLE.He opens it. Inside, it’s scrawled in Cartman’s voice: “I fixed it. You’re happy now. Everyone’s happy. Don’t fuck it up again. – Eric” Kyle’s hands tremble. His eyes widen, disbelief and guilt flooding through him. Cartman did this. He changed the world… for him. “Why?” Kyle whispers. Behind him, Yentl’s voice breaks the silence. “Kyle?” Yentl doesn’t remember marrying Cartman