the asmodai ↣ style

Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12: The Enthralling Conclusion

Heidi was standing on her tiptoes, peering over the heads of the customers of Shakey's Pizza and trying to see the front door. She was wearing her favorite skirt, which showed off her nice soccer legs, which she'd stopped wearing to school because Kenny was a creepy whore.

But it was just a coincidence she was wearing it today. Really.

She frowned and dropped back down on her feet, biting absently at a recently painted fingernail.

"Ugh, they let you hippies in everywhere nowadays."

Heidi spun around to face Cartman, who'd done something weird to his hair. But then, Cartman was always doing something weird to his hair, so that was just a coincidence, too.

Really.

"What are you doing here?" Heidi said loftily, brushing off the front of her skirt.

"I come here all the time, ho. What are you doing here?"

"I come here all the time, too!" They glared at each other as the line moved up.

"What can I get for you?" the cashier asked pleasantly.

"Slaughterhouse pizza and an extra large Dr. Pep."

"I'm sorry, sir," the cashier said, "but we don't sell slaughterhouse pizza anymore. NAG has shown us the light, and now we only sell healthy alternatives."

"I understand," Cartman said. "But maybe you have some slaughterhouse for my friend... Mr. Hamilton?"

"That's George Washington," Heidi hissed at him.

"I think I know the difference between the presidents, bitch."

"Alexander Hamilton wasn't a president!"

"Hell, I'll take it," the cashier said. "They hardly pay us at all." He took the dollar from Cartman and slipped it into his pocket. "And for you, little lady?"

"A slice of veggie pizza and a small diet coke," she said promptly. The cashier turned to grab their order from the pre-made pizza circling slowly under the heating lamps. Heidi glanced sideways at Cartman.

"We aren't ordering together," she informed him. "It's just that he asked, and the line is so slow."

"You don't need to tell me, little lady," Cartman mocked. Heidi glared.

The cashier returned; Cartman and Heidi both dug into their wallets, then Heidi grabbed her tray and marched off to find a table. Cartman trailed after her.

Unfortunately, because it was Saturday afternoon, most of the tables were taken by elementary students, middle schoolers, and mothers who'd rather resort to fast food than fix their children lunch. Heidi scanned the room, located a small table by the window, and quickly headed over before someone else could get to it.

Cartman set down his tray the moment she sat down.

"Excuse me," she said. "Go find your own table."

"They're all taken."

She snorted and gestured to the opposite side of the room. "There're three over there."

"What, next to that woman that can't keep her legs closed and her brood? I don't want some whore bitching at me for not censoring myself so her crotch fruit aren't subjected to opinions other than her own." He sat down opposite her and started digging into his pizza.

"God," she breathed, "is there anything that you don't complain about?"

He actually seemed to consider this, then he scowled. "Hey, there's plenty I'm not complaining about at the moment." She wrinkled her noise as he continued eating, and he said, "Like, for instance, that bitchy face your making. I'm not gagging because you're eating some vegetable shit."