"Mr. Mays...I know you can't hear me up there," Cartman said, "but I want you to know, you were one of my idols. And tonight, Chipotle-Away helped save the life of an innocent Jewish Canadian boy."
Kyle rolled his eyes.
"I still don't get it," he grumbled. "If it makes you crap blood, why don't you just not eat it so much?! Why waste your money on some silly product?"
"Kyle." Cartman turned around to glare at him. "First of all, Billy Mays's products are not, in any way, silly. Second of all, chipotle is the food of gods. The food. Of gods," he asserted.
"I still think the idea that chipotle makes everyone crap blood is just an exaggeration," Stan piped up.
"Well, of course the Boy with the Golden Butthole would say so!" Cartman retorted.
"Whatever." Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we just agree to disagree? Otherwise we'll be here all night and I'm tired from all those ghost business."
"Bottom like, fuck you, chipotle is awesome," Cartman said.
"But it makes you crap blood!" Kyle insisted.
"Guys, could we just shut the fuck up about this already? It's getting old," Kenny finally said. A long silence followed, then Cartman threw up his hands and sighed.
"Goddammit, Kenny."