Chapter Text
A modern shopping mall has risen in the center of a bustling city. The decorations by famous designers make it look almost extravagantly luxurious.
But contrary to its postmodern appearance, an antique Gothic church is built on top of the mall.
Even before the mall was officially opened, the collars were already there, giving a sermon with candlelight flickering beside them.
Eric leaned back with a smug little grin while the priests did their thing: Latin mumbo-jumbo, incense smoke, holy water everywhere.
Now this was class.
People criticized the design, saying it was incongruous; some have even said behind his back that he is only a redneck from a mountain town that tries too hard to show off his money.
Screw them! They’re just jealous losers. God wants me to be rich, that’s why he keeps blessing my fat wallet!
This is what he has been pursuing: to show off.
In his elementary school history class, his favourite part was the rivalry in display of wealth between the Astors and the Vanderbilts. Just look at their life, champagne flowing like streams down the hills, fresh flowers delivered from France in the air, guests’ jewels shine like stars in the sky. That’s the kind of life worth dying for, a man should live a life like that!
He remembered drooling every time he heard about how lavish those feasts were, and after realizing his own reality from the history story, all he had were his CheesiePoofs that Liane bought from the mall whenever there’s a discount.
His family was the second poorest in the whole town. There was nothing to complain about since he grew up with only one parent, plus his mom couldn’t keep on doing what she had been doing in her youth, he was becoming almost as poor as the McCormicks.
If someone had told little Eric, the kid chasing raccoons outta the kitchen that he’d one day own half this damn city, he’d have said, “Hell yeah, I would.”
“Chairman Cartman, the opening ceremony has been prepared. When would you like to light the candle?” Secretary Stoch whispered to him. Calling him the chief executive is too cheesy, so instead, he let all the subordinates call him chairman, vaguely raising himself to a higher level.
Cartman took that white, thick candle, closed his eyes, and prayed fake-piously: God bless me with a career that rises steady and swift!
After opening his eyes, he added: and never let the Tweak Bros. Coffeehouse rise again!
As for whether God dealt with curses at all, that wasn’t something Chairman Cartman would consider. The Chairman is pretty busy as the biggest yet the youngest real estate developer in Colorado, with numerous affairs waiting for him to attend to.
After lighting the candle, he had to take a look at the new food plaza downstairs.
A smart businessman, like yours truly, knows how to make people spend more. Give them a church, a food court, and fake moral superiority, and they’ll hand you their money with a smile.
A gothic church on top of the mall already caused a stir in the town.
There were quite a lot of visitors coming to see the architecture today, and after they enjoy the sight of it, they can go to the food plaza to have a rest. The chefs there were all well paid by Cartman, but he sold the food at a relatively affordable price.
All the floors around the food plaza were empty, as no businesses have yet moved in. However, he’d instructed the workers to turn on the lights, no matter big or small. The electricity meters were spinning rapidly. Still, the resplendent and magnificent environment must have impressed people.
Looking at the busy crowd, Cartman could almost see treasures filling his home.
Because of the opening discount, the food was far cheaper than its quality deserved, so there were no empty seats left in the dining area. A lot of people were wandering around trying to find a place to sit.
Among the crowd, a young guy walking with his head low caught Cartman’s attention. “No freakin’ way,” he muttered. He’d recognize that mop of blond hair anywhere. He stood in his office, body close to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring at that young guy.
Now that dinner time had passed, the people who came to eat were beginning to leave. There were still plenty of plates on the table that waiters weren’t able to clean immediately. The young guy randomly took a seat, and slowly he sat down, leisurely munching the leftovers.
The kid was wearing all the brand stuff, his shoes with a big swoosh.
South Park isn’t a big town, or else anyone who knew brands would’ve noticed they were authentic limited-edition Nikes, which money couldn’t even buy!
It’s a pity that all his brand stuff looked like he has been rolling around in the puddle, all muddy and wrinkled. Some even covered their noses when passing him, so he’s gotta be smelly, too.
After the kid had finished his current table of leftovers, he began to search for the next. It’s not hard to see the kid was punctilious; some table’s leftovers were simply too messy, the kid wouldn’t even cast an eye on them. Only those still with their proper shape and looked appealing, he would condescend to sit down and take a bite.
He chose a quiet place, so the waiters didn’t even notice him.
Cartman stretched himself, pulled his boss chair over, crossed his legs, wondering: when was the last time I saw this brat? Three years ago?
At that time, he was only a third-rate developer waiting for the director of supplies Richard Tweak to grant his requests from his subordinate contractors. The Tweaks didn’t merely own a coffee shop in the town, Richard Tweak happened to be the one in charge of all the distribution of commercials in the town. Eric Cartman used to go to his door and wait for it to crack open, so he could kiss his ass and send the Tweaks some gifts, but he was shut down.
Looking back on his attitude then, he’d even been eager to throw a celebration party for their pet dog giving birth to puppies.
Then the supplier director’s pet dog had a miscarriage, however, his son returned from Europe. Yes, Tweek had gone to a university in Austria, majoring in piano after he graduated from South Park High School.
After he had come back to the States, they held a small wine party in the local hotel in Colorado. Cartman spent 6 thousand dollars on a little piano statue that was made of pure gold and took it there as a present.
When he arrived at the hotel, Tweek was playing the piano on the stage. The well-ironed black suit really made his back look straight and shoulders broad yet steady. Blonde hair that used to be messy had been combed tidily and neatly, revealing his glabrous forehead, cheeks pink.
Cartman didn’t have a grade high enough (or the money) to let him enroll in a fancy university in Europe, he just thought Tweek on stage was sparkling, like a prince in a picture book.
He simply knew his heart was pounding like hell, his soul almost flying over to the stage.
When the little prince finished the last note, Cartman instantly clapped his hands, cheering: “That is totally wicked! More!”
All the people in the hall turned to look at him as if they’d just discovered a complete dumbass.
Some whispered, “What does he think this is? Some stand-up show? Requiring more??” Tweek also looked at him. No matter how long it had been, Cartman couldn’t forget that look, which was such disdain.
The same person was now picking leftovers in the food plaza, so Cartman called the security.
The security came promptly with tasers. No kidding, this is the chairman himself giving instructions! Those demobilized soldiers had been practicing their work, and now they can finally see the result.
One of them pulled the little beggar off the chair abruptly while he was devouring a plate of lasagna.
“What are you doing? Who let you in? Did you pay for the food? Look what you have eaten, I can hear you smacking your lips 1 mile away!”
The leading boy had a good mouth, Cartman thought, thinking of giving him a raise.
The little beggar was not at all professional, the blush could be seen even under a layer of dirt. He lowered his head and tried to get out from under the security guards.
And they’ll be damned if they let him. The boss is here watching! Some of the guards started to grab him while swearing. The little beggar finally raised his head, big, clear, blue eyes looking around in alarm, as if counting on someone to rescue him.
Unfortunately, all the customers are left right now, there are only the workers, and they are all enjoying the show.
He staggered, being pushed on the ground, and was on all fours. One of the security guards walked forward and stepped on his hand. The beggar who had been silent all along, let out a loud cry that pierced through the heart like a sword, forlorn and bitter.
The security guards were also startled by the sudden cry, all stepping back a little.
“What is wrong with you? Are you blind? Is that why you, of all the other parts of his body, stepped on his finger? Do you have any idea how precious those fingers are?”
Cartman strutted out of his office, reprimanding the subordinates sanctimoniously.
Then he humbled himself and helped the beggar up, regardless of the smell.
“Well, well, young master Tweak, you okay there, buddy?”