It had been two years since Al Gore had nearly gotten them killed for the sake of his stupid ManBearPig quest, but Stan had yet to forgive or forget. Luckily, neither had his friends. So a revenge plan was naturally in the works.
"For the last time, Cartman, we are not going to sic the Crab People on Al Gore!" Kyle groaned. "Every time we try to come up with a plan that's always your answer!"
"Just that one time!" Cartman said defensively. "Besides, I haven't seen you come up with anything better, Jew."
"Don't belittle my people, you fucking fatass!"
"Guys, cut it out," Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kenny, what do you think?"
"Put whores in his bed, take a bunch of pictures and sell them to the press?" Kenny suggested, for once not wearing the hood that muffled his speech.
"You're just looking for an excuse to get near whores," Cartman dismissed.
"And we don't have enough money unless we wanna use Old Frieda again," Kyle said.
"Wait!" Stan snapped his fingers. "I think I got it. Remember that time we scammed my uncle Jimbo and Ned with the plastic frog of Southern Shri-Lanka?" The boys nodded, forming a huddle and speaking in hushed whispers. And thus, their plan was formed.
*
Later that night, Al Gore's screams could be heard halfway across the country as a giant, glowing, albiet misshapen ManBearPig stood outside his window making generic creepy sounds and throwing rocks.
"Good job, Mr Slave and Big Gay Al," Stan said.
"Oh, you sillies, no need to thank us!" Big Gay Al laughed. "After you saved the gay marriage rights for South Park, we owed you big-time."
