It's a beautiful warn sunny day in South Park. Kyle exits the bathroom after having slept in as Summer Vacation has begun.
Kyle walks down stairs and passed Gerald who is relaxing on the couch.
"Hey, dad."
"Morning, son."
Kyle enters the kitchen Sheila is cleaning in.
"Good morning, mom."
"Well good morning to you too, son. I can't believe you slept in on such a beautiful morning."
"No lose, I blow most beautiful mornings in school learning about ancient Mesopotamia anyway."
"And you never know when that might come in handy; one day you might be on 'Jeopardy' and it's your final question, son."
"Or I'll forget it all next month when they plow other useless knowledge into me," Kyle says in a quiet voice.
"Your breakfast is on the table."
"Thanks, mom," Kyle says as he walks away from the fridge with a glass of milk.
"Kyle," Gerald calls out from the living room.
"Go see what your father wants, bubelah."
Kyle walks over to his dad.
"Yeah, dad."
"Can you go get the mail?"
"Sure thing, dad."
Kyle walks to and opens the front door; he closes it. He walks down the driveway and passed the family's SUV.
"What is that smell?" Kyle says as he turns to go to the mailbox.
He closes the mailbox door after pulling out the mail. When he turns to head back, he stops and looks on in disgust. Right there behind the SUV is a big pile of human shit.
.
Kyle rings a doorbell. The door opens.
"Oh, hello Kyle."
"Is Cartman in?" Kyle says, annoyed.
"Yes, I think he just got back in. Eric honey, you have a visitor!" she calls out.
"How long was he gone?" Kyle asks her.
"Oh, about an hour, I think," she then walks away.
"Ah huh," Kyle comments aloud.
Eric waddles up to the door.
"Well, good morning, Kyle," says Eric.
"Where were you?"
"Just out taking care of business. Why do you ask?"
"Cartman … why did you shit on my driveway?"
"What? Somebody shit on your driveway?" Eric asks back.
"Don't play coy with me. There are two people here who know you did it: you and me."
"Kyle, I'm offended that you think I would take a big fat dump on you drive way. It certainly lacks the depth and pizzazz of my regular schemes."
"Bullshit – you're not offended by anything! Making a woman have an abortion so you could have a Shakey's Pizza or killing somebody's parents and feeding them to him, you don't know a limit!"
"Man, I forgot about that Shakey's Pizza thing. That was some good pizza."
"I don't know why you did it, but if you do it again and I catch you, I'm calling the police. My home is the one place I shouldn't have to take literal shit from you."
"Well, Kyle, I hope you're as readily able to apologize to me as you were to implicate me."
"I'm going home to have breakfast. Bye," Kyle turns around and walks away from the house.
.
Horus later. Kyle sits in front of the computer in his room, bumming around online he picks up the landline phone when it rings.
"Hey, Stan, what's up?"
"I just saw on the five-o'clock news your house. The anchor said somebody defecated on the driveway. I assume you've already questions Cartman."
"Yep, and he dined it."
"To be expected. What's the plan?" Stan asks.
"I'm researching online to see if I can use my GoPro camera as a motion-activated surveillance camera. If he tries it again, it'll be hard to deny the video to the police."
"Sounds good. Knowing Cartman, he won't be able to resist shitting on your driveway a second time."
"I know," says Kyle back.
"Well, I have to go eat dinner now, so I need to stop talking and thinking about shit now. Good night."
"Good night," Kyle says back and then hangs up the phone.
.
The night comes and passes into the day. Even though Kyle slept in again, he still wakes up about the same time. He heads downstairs, only this time he goes straight for the front door, with a look of determination on his face.
"Morning, dad," Kyle says as he shuts the door.
"Huh," Gerald exclaims, "Always good to train them young before they rebel."
Kyle reaches the end of the SUV and looks. No pile of shit.
When Kyle gets back into the house, his dad is sitting up holding the wireless landline phone.
"Kyle, your friend Stan is on the phone."
Kyle walks over and gets the phone.
"What's up?"
"That Goddamn," Stan shouts.
Kyle pulls the phone from his ear some.
"…fucking ultra-Shamoo sized son of a bitch shit on my driveway!"
.
DING DONG!
This time Eric opens the door, "Oh, hey, Stan and Kyle."
"Why? Why?" Stan says furiously.
"Why what, Stan?" asks Eric.
"You know exactly what the fuck. It's not enough you give us shit, now you're literally giving us shit! You're gone too far! You shit on either of our driveways, lawns, or any area on our properties – since I know you'd take my words literally and find a place to shit – again, we're calling the police."
"Stan, I … I understand your frustration, but I did not shit on your driveway or Kyle's. I think you two owe me an apology."
"Screw you," Stan retorts.
"Why are you wheezing and taking deep breaths, huh? Still exhausted from your power waddle?" Kyle comments.
"No."
Eric's mother walks over to the door to get out, "Did you enjoy your jog my little love puff?"
"Yeah … thanks, mom," Eric says in an annoyed voice.
"All right. I'm going to the grocery store; be back in a little bit."
"Okay."
They wait for her to get in the car.
"Since when the fuck have you ever jogged for your health?" Kyle mocks in an accusatory way.
"Kyle, I don't have to explain my exercising habits to you. Now, if you two don't mind, I have video games to play," he shuts the door.
Kyle and Stan turn and walks back to the side walk along the road.
"We better warn Kenny," says Stan.
"I don't think he'll shit at Kenny's house – they don't have a driveway. It would be a Cartman M.O. to make the point Kenny's parents are too poor to afford a driveway."
"True, but he's probably counting on that," says Stan.
Stan's phone rings; he pulls it out of a pocket and answers.
"Hey, mom. Oh. Okay, no problem. Love you too. Bye," he hangs up and re-pockets it.
"What's up?"
"Mom says the news reporters are already out there and that I should probably stay away for a few hours."
"You can hang out at my place," Kyle offers.
"Thanks."
.
The next morning. Kenny suddenly wakes up, realizing he had dozed off while keeping an eye out from a front window. He quickly goes outside and looks around; there is no pile of crap.
Some time passes and Kenny, Kyle and Stan walk together toward the playground in tow.
"I guess we showed him," Kenny says in a muffled voice.
"I don't know," says Kyle, "It seems unlike Cartman to give up so easily."
"Oh, shit – no pun intended – we forgot about Butters!" Stan exclaims.
"You're right. It's not a question of if, but when he'll shit on Butters' driveway," says Kyle.
Ay they walk by the TV station, people come out in a rush.
"Come on, guys, the pooper has struck again!"
They load into the news van.
"Poops, he did it again!" Kyle exclaims.
They run after the van as it pulls out of the parking lot.
.
After a few minutes of running, the three of them reach a residential street where they had seen the van turn. Already parked and equipment nearly finished being set up, the reporter checks his hair in a window of the van.
"Dude – that's Wendy's house!" Stan exclaims.
They make their way through the crowd of neighbors.
"Okay, move along, people; nothing to see here. Well, except for that big pile of shit," says officer Barbrady.
The anchor speaks, "Okay, ready? Good. Live in three … two … one. The Civil Society. I'm a part of it, you're a part of it, we're all a part of it. Everybody lives more or less peaceably under it, until somebody takes a literal crap on it. I'm news reporter Tom Thompson with Channel 4 news, live at the residential home of local residents the Testaburgers, where an unknown pavement assailant has for the third day in a row, defecated on somebody's driveway. Dubbed the Shit Bandit, the suspect craps on the property of the innocent without being a member of Occupy Wall Street. Here with me now is local South Park Elementary School student and witness, Wendy Testaburger," he gets down on his knees and holds the microphone out at Wendy, "Wendy, tell us in a non-graphic way what you saw."
"I was sitting on the living room couch reading a book when I saw somebody jog by slowly and stop behind our SUV. I yelled out to mom that somebody was in our driveway. She opened the door and yelled at the person who then jogged away."
"Can you describe the suspect?"
"I really didn't see him too well. I think he was short and fat."
Kyle, Kenny, and Stan exchanges glances with each other.
"Then other cars and trucks blocked my view of him. I followed her out and that's when we saw it."
"Can you describe what you saw?"
"A pile of dookey."
"And can you tell us what it smelled like?"
"A pile of dookey."
"Was there steam coming off of it?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Wendy asks.
Eric makes his way through the crowd and stops once he reaches Kyle, Kenny and Stan.
"Hey guys, what's going on?"
"You bastard!" Stan exclaims angrily.
"Stan, that's no way to say hello to a friend."
"Looks like you have fresh waddle sweet on you, Pillsbury," Kyle comments.
"Yeah, where were you this last hour?" Stan grills.
"Ay! This isn't Nazi Germany – I don't have to explain myself."
"There will be plenty of time for you to do that in front of a judge," says Kyle.
"Describe for the viewers what it smells like," Tom asks Wendy.
"I'm done," Wendy says, walking away.
"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, one little girl and her family terrorized by the steaming foul-smelling droppings of the Shit Bandit. Will be or she strike again? Only time will tell. Tune in next shit-time, same shit-station – the worst is yet to come!" he lowers his microphone and puts a finger to one of his ears; he then raises the mic' back up, "Oh and I'm being told by my producer to say that our station is not shit. And that each time I say shit, we get fined by the FCC. My bad. Back to you, Tammy."
Eric walks over to the poop pile and pulls out his phone to take a picture with it.
"Agh! Now he's photographing his work," says Kyle.
"That's it," says Stan, "Nobody poops on my girlfriend's driveway and gets away with it. Unless she poops on it herself. Which I would hope she wouldn't do."
"What are you suggesting? Kyle asks.
"The three of us and Butters come together and form a neighborhood poop patrol."
"This is not the Summer Vacation activity I envisioned," says Kyle.
"Me neither," says Kenny.
"Listen guys, we have to take a stand. Today he's crapping on our driveways, tomorrow our lawns, then in our mail boxes, and God only knows where next."
"Okay," Kyle sighs heavily, "but what do we call ourselves?"
CUT TO: A montage of them each putting on brown pants.
"Where ever there are driveways…" we hear Stan's voice.
Then we see their backs as they put on brown shirts.
"Where ever there are fat little Nazi's trying to shot on them…"
And, finally, each of them puts on a poop emoji hat.
"There will be: Poop Patrol!"
They stand there in the uniforms, with on the front of each shirt a long snaking poop with eyes and a snake's tongue hissing out and the words "Don't Shit on Me" underneath it.
Kyle looks at them," It stinks."