Ripping off his name tag, Butters grumbled under his breath behind the building he and Cartman established. A business that was built from the ground up by the both of them, and he was fired .
You’re not putting enough effort into it, Butters, you’re not making enough money for us, blah blah blah I’m dumb and useless -
Butters threw the nametag onto the floor and stomped on it.
He wanted money? Fine.
And it only took a day, regardless! He gathered, borrowed, (stole) toys from his house, from anywhere in the neighborhood. Toys, candies, anything — he was going to own this business, and he was going to make more money than Cartman ever could.
With lights, fancy clothing, and the biggest darn array of toys and candies around, he was now Mr. Treats :D. Never forget the :D.
Grabbing a microphone, hooking it up to the speakers (he learned this from… the others! for… perfectly good reasons) and readying himself, he stood on the roof of the building next to his shop.
(He was safe, he promised his parents - the roof wasn’t slippery or anythin’!)
“ Sweet Treats :D is open, y’all! Welcome to The Best Toy Store in America! Come n’ get em, everyone, or you’re the dumbest friggin’ loser in town!”
He pulled a cannon out from behind him, aiming it at everyone.
A T-Shirt cannon.
Branded with the Sweet Treats :D logo, he aimed them at passerby, squinting his eyes. Hit! Bam! Goal! Other affirmative!
Ah, and - well - if that didn’t work, then he guesses he’d have to resort to force. That’s what they always said they had to in business, of course, right? Those big buff bodyguards — they were bribeable with candy, weren’t they?
..Well, he guessed one way or another they’d have to come to his store.
And buy everything from it.
Cuz otherwise, Cartman’s just going to be right. That would suck.
Hours, hours, later,
kids stopped by. They mostly wanted to know what the hell this new stand was doing by the road, but whatever! They’d be convinced eventually. He could sing and dance his way into convincing someone into buying some toys, right?
Maybe it’d been a bad idea to stay up on the roof of the building beforehand, though, for hours at a time.
( Dear mama, papa, it turns out I was wrong - the roof was slippery. )
Butters yelled in greeting, steadying himself on the roof, by some structure next to him. It was nice and steady, and there would be no way in all heck that he’d fall. Ah, well, he knew better, but, there was an area that didn’t seem like it’d be too far away after all. These things were always closer than they appeared.
And it was
surprising when he tripped, sliding off the edge. Panicked, he clawed at the edge of the roof - flashes of his life appearing before his eyes -
he couldn’t die yet, he couldn’t --
holding on for dear life.
When in the world had slopes become so friggin slippery?
Butters shot a look over at the customers of his new store - who really seemed more interested in filming him than anything - laughing apologetically.
“‘M sorry y’all! I’ll be right there with you all, now, I promise!”
Right after that, he fell off.
Butters closed his eyes, quickly writing a list of regrets in his head, a will, praying quickly for safe access to-
He was dead, he just knew it, oh god, at least no one could get him in trouble anymore. Butters shut his eyes, muttering prayers and refusing to open his eyes.
“Leave me alone, I’m dead.” He pawed at the sky, towards the sound of their voice. Butters was too busy mourning his own death, anyways.
“You sure, dude? You don’t look like it.”
“Plenty.” A couple shuffling sounds, and then steps - oh god, wait, were they leaving? Butters sat up abruptly, reaching his arms out.
“Wait, no! You can’t leave, I have.. I have a gazillion offers to make to you!” His eyes were still closed, in fear of the
truth that lay beyond death.
There was a snort, from them.
“Like Professor Chaos merch! ”
“...And maybe other superhero merch, if you really want it.”
“ Really? ” A soft ‘ dude’ from his friend. Butters stood up, clumsily, but for the sake of… business, it was neatly, and nodded quickly. “Uh, dude, why are you keeping your eyes closed?”
“If I, ah, open my eyes while I’m dead, who knows what kind of supernatural horrors I’ll witness!”
“...Okay, dude, I’ll just… Leave you to that shit then.”
“No! No, I, uh… Well, listen, you hate Cartman as much as I do, don’t you?”
“Well… Yeah, everyone hates Cartman.”
to help me! I’m going to overthrow him and his
“But aren’t you being capitalistic too…?
“I’m… Doing it better.”