Thanks to my super-awesome reviewer Sweet Possum! Now for chapter 2 which, was indeed, slightly better than chapter one, at least in my opinion.

Disclaimer: I still do not own South Park

Mrs. Garrison entered her fourth-grade classroom on Monday morning, the weekend's incidents at the front of her mind. Horror movies had never intrigued her like television sitcoms did, but she was, nonetheless, vaguely aware of the rules, and it seemed to her as if some of South Park's recent events had walked right out of one. Being the nice, caring teacher that she was, the transsexual wanted to make sure that her kids knew the rules as well. After all, if there were no fourth-graders, then there would be no need for a fourth-grade teacher, and Mrs. Garrison rather liked her job.

"All right everyone, shut up," she yelled over the chattering students. The fourth-graders complied. "Today's lesson will about horror movies. First, however–"

"My parents say I'm not supposed to watch those," Butters said in his sheepish manner from his usual seat beside Eric Cartman.

Mrs. Garrison stared at the naive blond; every cell in her body was urging her to explode on the boy, to call him the foulest of names, and perhaps even smack him across the knuckles with a ruler for good measure. Oh how she wished corporal punishment was still allowed in schools. She, however, refrained. After all, Mrs. Garrison, already a good teacher, had pledged that morning to become an even better, more loved teacher. She ignored the comment and continued. "We need to take role."

"But we never take role Mrs. Garrison." It was Bebe this time.

"Why whatever do you mean Bebe dear?" the balding woman asked pleasantly. "The state requires that we take role every morning, and so, every morning we take role." She was going to be a good teacher if it damn well killed her. She shifted her attention to the role call. "Now, Token–"

"Who are you and what have you done with Mrs. Garrison?" Cartman chimed in.

Screw the pledge. If the students didn't want to respect her attempts at bettering herself, then she wouldn't bother trying. The insults she had been repressing for the last several minutes erupted. "I am Mrs. Garrison you maggot-infested retard! This is all preparation for my wonderfully educational lesson plan you idiots!" Not quite the truth. "Now I want all of you to sit down, shut up, and let me finish the Goddamn role call! Token," she called out a second time.

"Mrs. Garrison?"

"Craig, what did I just say?"

"But–"

"Craig, there's a seat in the councillor's office with your name on it. Why don't you go take it?"

"But–"

"Now!" Mrs. Garrison was visibly fuming. Craig opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it and raised his middle finger instead before hopping out of his desk and leaving the classroom. "Now where was I?" The transsexual teacher asked pleasantly. "Oh yes, Token?"

No answer.

"Haha, very funny. Token?" Again, she received no answer. "Token, do you want to go join Craig?"

"That's what Craig was trying to say Mrs. Garrison." This time, it was Clyde speaking, albeit a bit more anxiously. "Token's absent today."

"Oh, well then," she responded irately. Already this was shaping up to be another disastrous day at South Park Elementary. "Why don't we just skip role call altogether then." She was met with irritated groans from the students. "Oh can it. Now for today's lesson," she let a brief silence ensure for an ambient effect. The kids stared at her in the same, bored way they always did. The woman really hated children sometimes. "Horror movies," she said at last. "They can be cheesy, they can be scary, they can be the stupidest, most illogical thing you'll ever see in your miserable little lives, but they all typically follow a set pattern. Now, horror is it's own genre, but within it, there exist a number of other sub-genres. Can anyone name me one?"

Nobody moved to respond.

"Anybody?" Again, nothing. "How about you Stan?"

From the look on his face, it was obvious that Stan Marsh did not know the answer. He said the first thing that came to mind. "Ghosts?" It seemed like a logical choice.

"Ghosts, as in haunted houses, as in man-made products gone wrong. Yes, that is a genre, albeit, not a very creative one. How about you Kyle?"

Kyle didn't seem to know the answer any more than Stan, but he too ventured a guess. "Murderers?"

"Murderers, yes. Chainsaw-wielding psychopaths, or evil masterminds, or even inbred mutants with axes. Those are called Slashers. Another, Kenny?"

"Brr mrrph mrrph," he responded with more confidence than his friends.

"Very good Kenny. Yes, the Satanic genre includes curses and demons and other things of the like. How about you Eric?"
Cartman was absolutely certain of his answer. "Jews."

"Jews aren't a genre in horror movies Fatass!" Kyle snapped.

"Eric, I think that may have been one of the most retarded answers you've given me. Ever. Therefore, you receive an F for the day."

"What? That's not fair!" Cartman cried; he had been so certain. He didn't think that an ingenious answer that the teacher was too dumb to see was no grounds for a failing grade. Some people just didn't appreciate his superior intellect.

"Do you want an F for tomorrow too? Don't push it mister." The teacher was beginning to develop a murderous headache.

"This is bullsh–"

"Mrs. Garrison?" the angelic voice of Wendy Testaburger interrupted.

If there was one student Mrs. Garrison hated more than trouble-making Eric, it was know-it-all Wendy. The little girl's answers were almost always correct, and the transsexual teacher despised her for it. She was loathe to admit that her politically active fourth grader was probably smarter than she was. This bothersome fact tended to result in the girl being mocked whenever she voiced her opinion in class. "What is it Wendy?" The response bordered on exasperation.

"Is this lesson in any way related to the inexplicable deaths that happened this weekend"

"What are you, Wendy? Some kind of retard like Eric?"

"Hey!" came the fat child's angry response. Racist, hateful, and manipulative he may have been, but retard he was not.

Wendy hung her head, ashamed. She had, in fact been right as usual, but Garrison wasn't about to let Wendy, or any of the other students for that matter, know that she actually believed that South Park was caught in a horror movie. After all, that made her sound like the retard she so often accused her students of being, and she definitely did not want that.

"Anyway, in horror movies there are a number of actions you can take that will, without a doubt, get you killed. These are known as the 'Horror-story Sins.' These include things like sex, splitting up, being skeptical . . ."

ooo

Recess at South Park Elementary was, as is the case at most elementary schools, the most looked forward to time of the day. The fourth grade class especially loved it, and with a teacher like Mrs. (formerly Mr.) Garrison, who could blame them?

Recess-time activities typically included football, or tetherball, or ripping on whoever somebody, usually Cartman, felt like ripping on. This was very occasionally accompanied by song and dance, as was the case with the ever popular "Kyle's Mom is a Bitch" song. Today Butters was the object of interest. A fairly small group of students from his class surrounded him as he stood by the slide, but as he spoke, they were joined by others.

"Um, I wanna invite you guys to uh–to come to my house tonight." He was speaking to Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny.

"Why?" asked Kyle, mildly interested.

"'Cause I think something real cool is going to happen tonight, and I wanted my four best friends in the whole world to be there." His smile was brimming with excited energy. He had never forgotten being cast out of their group earlier that year to be replaced by Tweek. In fact, he was still quite resentful, but Leopold 'Butters' Stotch had few friends, and even though these four had often abused him, of all the kids he knew, save for perhaps for the second-grader, Dougie, they were the nicest to him.

"What's this 'real cool' something?" Stan questioned.

"Oh, well," the blond began nervously bouncing from his heels to his toes.

"Well?" cut in Cartman, drawing out the word.

"Well, I don't actually know but I think it's supposed to be real cool."

"Ugh," Cartman grunted. "And how do you know if it's gonna be really cool if you don't know what it is? Besides, Butters," he put a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder as if to comfort him, "your definition of 'cool' is 'Hello Kitty's Island Adventure.' Quite different from the real definition of the word." There was a small chorus of "yeahs" and "that's rights" from the slowly growing crowd.

"But you gotta listen to what happened." Butters pressed on.

"All right, we're listening." Kyle's tone was seemed slightly annoyed, but he was curious in spite of himself.

"Y'see, on Saturday my mom and dad found this old movie just lyin' there on the table. At first they thought I'd left it there, and they were gonna ground me again, but for some reason they believed me when I told 'em I didn't do it. That was kinda weird, but we all sat down and watched the movie anyway. I saw some of the most weird things I'd ever seen before." He had the look of a storyteller, enamored by the very story he was telling. His voice was dark (for Butters anyway) with suspense. The other kids were listening intently for the most part.

"What did you see?" Stan asked, beguiled.

"Well, it was all in black and white, and it made the screen go kinda blitzy. But then a bunch of strange, unrelated stuff started appearing on screen, like a funny looking square, an eyeball, and an iceberg, and a house, some dead cows, an ugly man brushing his hair in a mirror, a talking piece of poo, and some other stuff. Then I guess it must've been pretty dry, 'cause we all got nosebleeds."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Cartman condescended. "Leave it to Butters to think that a bunch of crap he sees on a badly damaged video is the coolest thing in the world." A few of the other kids laughed at this.

"Wait Eric, I'm not finished yet. That's not the best part."

"What Butters? Did Hello Kitty crawl out of the TV?"

"No, but we did get a phone call right after the movie was done."

"I'm sure."

"And you know what it said?"

"Seven days?" Cartman was getting rather annoyed with the blond. He had seen this movie before, and quite frankly didn't like it. (Though he would never tell anyone that it was because The Ring had in fact scared him beyond words). The story was simple. Unsuspecting person watches movie, mysterious voice says "seven days," and person dies in a week. Butters certainly wasn't being very creative, but that wasn't new.

"Close, it said two." Butters finished with a smile. Cartman slapped his forehead in disgust. "So I figured that something cool's gonna happen tonight."

"Butters do you realize that sounds like it walked right out of a bad horror movie?" Cartman was again being skeptical. The other kids, however, were awed by Butters story.

"What do you think the cool thing could be?" Asked Leroy.

"I dunno, but I'm hoping it's something real, super cool, like a pony."

"Do you think I could borrow it Butters?"

"Of course Dog Poo. Come on over after school and I'll give it to you."

"Thanks," the filthy kid replied jubilantly.

An indignant Cartman tried to redirect the attention of the other kids on the playground from Butters to himself, but it was all in vain. He swore and went to go play tetherball by himself. There was only one other child on the playground that wasn't trying to prod Butters for more information on the 'real cool' movie. That child was Wendy Testaburger.

Wendy had listened intently to Butters's story, and had been disturbed by how much it sounded, as Cartman had been so quick to point out, like a horror movie. Despite Mrs. Garrison's earlier accusations, the little girl in the pink beret was still convinced that her town was trapped in a horror story. As a precaution, she had gone out and procured a copy of a horror movie survival guidebook. It sure was going to come in handy; of this she was certain.

The bell rang, signifying the end of recess, and the students all filed back to their classes.

ooo

That night, at about 6:57, the Stotch family sat around their television, watching some prime time TV. Despite Butters's popularity in school that day, none of his classmates had taken him up on his offer to visit and see the events the boy had spoken so enthusiastically about at recess. Their loss, the naive little boy thought to himself as his eyes remained fixed on the clock.

Mr. and Mrs. Stotch had watched the psychotic movie with their son, but they had thought that both the movie and the phone call afterwards had been part of a hoax, perhaps set up by one of those juvenile delinquents they were so certain Butters was hanging around with. By now, they had forgotten all about that peculiar film they had watched merely two days prior at exactly 7:00 p.m. It was for this reason that they were so surprised when the cable went out.

Butters bounced up and down in his seat. "Oh goody!" he cheered giddily.

"Butters, did you do this?" his father demanded sternly.

"Oh no sir," the boy replied, all of the joy in his voice just a second prior gone.

"Are you lying to me?" The brunet man began rising from his seat, hand raised.

"No sir!" he pleaded. So engaged in their family matters were they, that none of the Stotches noticed the deathly white girl crawling out of the television.

"You are grounded Mister!"

"Aww, hamburgers, not again."

"Ahem." The three turned to stare at the intruder in their home.

"How did you get in here?" inquired Mr. Stotch. The demonic little girl opened her mouth and let out a clicking sound before hobbling in the direction of the family.

"It's not a pony, but it is pretty cool, I guess."

"Shut up Butters, unless you want another week added to your punishment." The blond boy looked sheepishly at the ground. "And as for you," he turned toward the waddling little girl. Her movement reminded Mr. Stotch ever-so-slightly of a duck, which he found quite comical. However, funny or not, this child was an intruder in his home, and he wanted her out. "Listen Missy, I don't know who you think you are, but this is our house, and you are trespassing. Now I can give you two options: get out, or be removed by the police." The girl continued ambling in the direction of the Stotches.

"Honey, maybe she's deaf and can't hear you. Or perhaps she's foreign. She does kind of look Asian." The girl from the television was becoming increasingly annoyed as the Stotch family continued their discussion. Usually when she did this "coming out of the television set" bit, people got scared, but this family was making a mockery of her. Never in her afterlife had little Sasa felt so embarrassed. These people were going to die–or they were going to as soon as she reached them. The undead child was a turtle when it came to walking.

As the family argued, she drew closer, and closer, and closer stil,l until finally she was close enough to make her move. She let out an ear-splitting scream as she pounced upon the Stotch family. They didn't know what had hit them until too late. Needless to say, she got her revenge for being ignored.

My apologies to all of the Butters fans. Sasa is obviously a parody of Samara/Sadako from The Ring, but I didn't want to use the exact same character so I tweaked a few things. I really wish that I wrote better dialogue.