Polly Prissypants was dead and Cartman was sobbing over the loss of his final stuffed toy. He never wanted to kill her, even if she had been responsible for the deaths of his other toys, but he had no other choice. At least he felt that way. Now, the reality of the situation was hitting him hard.

Watching from the upstairs balcony were Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Token, hardly believing the shooting they had just witnessed.

"Dude, what the hell?" blurted Stan.

"We told him to grow up," explained Kyle. "So he got rid of his stuffed animals."

Meanwhile, looking outside through the window were Cartman's mom and Token's parents.

"My little Eric can sometimes be a bit dramatic," said Liane to the owners of the house with a slight chuckle.

Just then, a taxi cab pulled up to the Blacks' driveway and a young man stepped out.

"Here, keep the change," he said as he paid his fare to the driver.

"Oh shoot, I forgot," said Mr. Black. "I'm supposed to be helping that college student with his research project tonight."

"What?" replied Mrs. Black. "You didn't tell me that was happening. In any case, why at this hour?"

"I guess his flight was delayed," the lawyer guessed. "He insisted on flying out here to Colorado because he somehow found out about me and trusts my legal knowledge."

"Mr. Black?" presumed the kid as he approached.

"In person," said the man as he shook hands. "You must be Andy."

"Yep, that's me," said Andy.

"Andy, this is my wife Linda."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"And this here is Liane Cartman. She and her son are staying here while their house is being refurbished from a fire."

"Hi there."

"Ladies, this here is Andy Davis. He's going to interview me for his political science class."

"Oh that's wonderful," said Liane. "But how can you do it inside if we're locked out?"

"Oh right," said Mr. Black, who went over to the door and pounded on it. "Token? Boys? I have a visitor. Can one of you unlock this door so we can get in?"

It took a minute, but Token finally opened the door so the adults could reenter.

"Andy, this is my son Token," Mr. Black pointed out.

Andy and Token exchanged "nice to meet you" phrases before the issue of Cartman arose.

"I wouldn't go in the family room if I were you," warned Token. "Eric is still pretty upset."

"Why? What happened?" asked Andy.

"I don't understand it myself," said Token. "But let's just say all of his stuffed animals are now gone."

"Gone as in stolen or donated?"

"No, gone as in DEAD."

"What? That makes no sense. Let me go talk to him."

"Okay, but don't expect to understand anything."

Meanwhile, Stan, Kyle and Kenny were still watching Cartman weep in the middle of the room. That's when they saw Andy walk in.

"Hey, they're sending that college kid in to talk to him," observed Stan.

"What could he possibly know about all this?" wondered Kyle.

Before approaching the distressed child, Andy could get an idea of what had happened by seeing what appeared to be the remains of two stuffed toys. One sat on the chair and had holes shot in its face while the other was tied above the fireplace without its head. Deep down, Andy was grateful that none of his toys ever suffered such a fate. Those that remained right before he went off to college were now in the safe hands of a little girl back home who knew how to take care of toys properly.

"Excuse me, Eric?" he said.

"Wh-who are you?" asked Cartman as he slowly looked up.

"My name's Andy. I understand you've had something terrible happen just now."

"What's it to you, asshole?" Cartman shouted. "You don't know a goddamn thing!"

Andy was slightly stunned at the 10-year-old's foul language, but continued.

"You're right: I don't. But I know what it's like to lose childhood playthings. Most of mine were given away at yard sales and things like that, but I donated the rest to a girl in my neighborhood the day I left for college. It was tough, but I did it."

"Yeah?" replied Cartman. "Well I won't get that chance because that dead doll you see in that chair killed them all! She insisted I put her down too! You don't know what it's like to have one of your own toys be responsible for the deaths of all the others and then, her own!"

"Would you mind explaining what happened?" asked Andy.

That launched Cartman into a tirade about exactly what happened. Clyde Frog had essentially been crucified, Peter Panda burned, Muscleman Marc boiled, Rumpertumskin decapitated and Polly Prissypants insistent that her owner shoot her upon realizing the flaw of her otherwise perfect plan. It translated to Andy that this was an unusual way of getting rid of one's toys, even if Cartman still insisted that it was all toy foul play. Andy thought and realized what he had to say.

"Look, I know this is a rough time for you, but think of it this way: you're going to be all grown up someday like I am, so maybe it's best that this happened now rather than before you were a teenager. Between the time I stopped playing with toys and gave the rest away, my toys were confined to the toy box, which was really an eternity if you looked at it from their perspective. You're hurting now, but you were eventually going to outgrow your childhood playmates anyway. No way around that. Do you really think they would have been happy being in a dark place for a long, long time after you treated them with as much love as you did?"

"Well, probably not," Cartman answered. "I can't imagine treating them that way."

"Guess what?" continued Andy. "Now they won't have to be because they're all in a better place: a place where they can play all the time and not have to worry about being abandoned or outgrown or damaged or anything like that. Trust me, it's better this way. Now you won't have to worry about leaving them as you get older."

"Of course," Cartman realized. "You're totally right! How did I not see that before? I can grow up without that burden and they won't have to worry about never seeing the light of day again!"

"Now you get it," Andy smiled.

"Thank you so much!" cried Cartman, who gave Andy a brief hug before running off. "Mom! I'm gonna be okay! It's all gonna be okay!"

As soon as Cartman was out of the room, the four other boys in the house entered.

"Damn, dude," said Stan. "You sure put the situation in a good light for him."

"I do what I can," replied Andy. "Can I give you my own advice though?"

"Yeah sure," said Kyle.

"Do you guys still have some of your toys?" Andy asked.

"Yes," they all answered.

"Okay, listen up," Andy told them. "I think he had a very weird way of getting rid of his toys. When and if you do the same, don't 'kill' them. Donate them to a kid who could use them like I did. Trust me; it's a lot better and not nearly as much trouble."

"Thanks," said Token.

"Yeah, you sure know your stuff about toys," put in Kyle.

"Well, sort of," Andy laughed. "I do what I can."

"You did well by us," assured Stan. "As long as he doesn't know what you just told us, I think everything will be cool."

"Sure thing," said Andy. "Now I've got an interview to do."

Andy got up and went into the dining room, where Mr. Black was already there waiting for him.

"So Mr. Black," Andy began. "About those 99 percent rallies…"