It had been a harsh week. Mr. Garrison had assigned the kids to different offices and stores, so that they could get a taste of the real world and modern workplaces. Cartman had managed to get himself assigned to this law firm in Boston that his mother had been a file clerk at, before he was born. Maybe one of those guys was his father. You never could tell.
"Oh, and the last item on the agenda...we have a young man working here this week from a school, part of our program to reach out to the youth of our community." Paul Lewiston looked over the rim of his glasses at Eric Cartman, sitting up in the chair between Sarah and Denise.
"Part of Denny's community service for the contempt charge." Alan Shore smoothed his tie and closed his leather notepad.
"That, too. But young Mr. Cartman here specifically requested that he be placed with our firm. His essay was insightful and compelling, a very bright and articulate young man. Which is why I'm assigning him to shadow you, Alan. He'll be observing your work on the Piper murder case ." Paul almost smiled. Almost. But it was enough to make even Shirley shift nervously in her chair.
"I dislike small children on general principal, Paul. How about you assign the young man to help Garrett today? Or what about Brad? He can tell the boy stories about being a Marine." Alan protested.
"Listen, dude, the man said I have to work with you. Don't argue with your bosses. Now get up, and lets get on this shit." Cartman slid off the chair and waddled to the glass door.
Denny smiled. "I like that young man. Authoritative, assertive...reminds me of myself."
Alan rolled his eyes and got up. All of the lawyers stood and left the conference room. By the time Alan reached his office, Cartman was already spinning around in his chair.
"Dude! This chair rocks! So, what are we gonna do for the old biddy, huh? She killed that midget, huh? Dammit, that's some cool shit! The frying pan guy gets whacked!" Eric's getting giddy as he spins.
Shore stops the chair, and motions for Cartman to get down. "Little boy, I don't know why I'm being punished but let's just try to get through this day without you breaking anything or annoying me, too much. Now, here's some paper and a pencil. Go draw...something. Over there."
"Are you crazy, dude? I didn't haul my ass all the way out here to scribble on a legal pad that has..." Eric stares, "Tara written all over it. I came here to find my father, dude. I think one of you guys is my daddy."
Alan snatched the pad out of Eric's grubby fist. "That's absurd. I only started with this firm last year, it can't be me. And, besides, you're nothing like me. You're obnoxious, sarcastic, rude, pudgy, annoying, pushy, childish..."
"Dude, I AM a child. Dumbass."
"Yes, well, whatever. Maybe you're Poole's son. He shows up at staff meetings with no pants." Alan sat down in his chair and thought.
"Gross, dude. That's like that whole standing in front of the class naked dream everyone has." Cartman hopped up on the desk and clicked the mouse on Alan's computer. "Halo? Dude! This is cool."
"Maybe you're Brad's child. Was your mother homecoming queen? Perhaps with the USO during Desert Storm?" Alan considered Cartman's lack of a chin and shook his head. "Anyway, I'm due in court. You can stay here."
"Oh, hell, no, fatass. I'm coming with you, and don't try any shit. I'll throw a temper tantrum in the reception area and tell everyone you tried to put wine in my Coke can, dude. Now let's go!"
The hearing was to set bail for Catherine Piper, the defendant who looked so old that Cartman bet she farted dust. She seemed surprised when Eric sat at the table with them, but she didn't say anything, just looked him over. After a while of debate between Shore, the DA and the judge, Eric could see it was going badly. He had to act, and act now.
"Namby pamby." Cartman pointed at the judge.
"Young man, how would you like to be cited for contempt? You are out of order."
Cartman climbed up on the defense table, and threw his arms wide. "You're out of order! You're out of order! The whole trial is out of order! They're out of order! You want the truth? You want the truth? You can't handle the truth! The truth is that this dear, sweet, golden old bat deserves to be able to go home and watch "Matlock" reruns and take her Metamucil! There's no respect in the world for old biddies anymore. When was the last time you helped an old hag with osteohalitosis and a shopping bag full of cat food cross the street? You suck, your honor! I suck, we all suck! We don't appreciate the good things that old people bring to the world, like adult diapers and the AARP! You have to have the courage to buck the youth culture and stop being a shithead and let this biddie go home!"
Later, in the evening, Denny Crane sat out on his balcony, smoking a cigar and drinking his Scotch. Cartman was next to him, sipping a Yoo Hoo and sucking on a Cheesy Poof. On the other side, Alan lit his own cigar.
"That was a hell of a risk, boy. But it took guts. Reminds me of me. Denny Crane."
"Maybe you're my daddy. Did you know a file clerk...big knockers, sleeps around, tattoo of a butterfly on her left ass cheek?" Cartman leaned back in the white chair, staring up at the stars.
Crane frowned. He scowled. "Eric, I suggest you let this search for your father go. I'm not your old man, but I'd give you the same advice whether I had screwed your mother in the back of the copy room on a Friday afternoon or not. Move on. Let it go." Crane took another puff on his cigar.
Alan Shore shook his head. Eric shook his, as well. "Dr. Spock says that the primal urge to know who we are is one of the biggest forces in our human nature, dude. I gotta find out who my daddy is. I gotta. I won't stop, I won't rest, I won't watch another episode of Terrance and Phillip, until I find that man who gave my mother his seed of life to make me. Can't dude."
"Ah...Spock. Wise man. Strange ears. I understand, boy. Well, for now, just relax. It's the end of a good day of work. This is the reward. Denny Crane."
"This is you guys' reward? Where are the babes? Huh? How come you guys sit here and drink and smoke, dude? You should be out with some hot chick who wants to ride you like a mechanical bull!" Cartman looked from one to the other.
"Been there, done that." Shore looked glum.
"Son, you'll find out someday that women aren't relaxing. They're a damn lot of work. This...bonding...fine Scotch, good cigar, maybe some fishing or shooting now and then, unless you have a smart ass associate who catches fifteen damn fish and shows you up...that's relaxation, boy. Women are too much trouble."
"Word, dude. I hear that." Cartman nodded.
"Word, dude. Denny Crane."