Chapter 3: This Story Gets Cornier

Following the white on green signs, Kenny hobbled down the Trans-Canadian Highway on his new, ruby slippers. How did women manage to walk in these things? His feet were killing him; his ankles were killing him; his calves were killing him; his knees were killing him, his thighs were killing him. On the other hand, his butt was quite cute.

"Oh goddamn it," groaned a voice from out of the cornfield he was passing. Kenny tried to peer in through the crops but could see no one. "Son of a bitch."

Kenny left the road and, following the quiet yet persistent cursing, picked his way between the towering stalks of corn. He found Kyle in the middle of the field with a large post stuck up his back.

"Wdaoyy swjen ggskwmm?"

"Oh Kenny, thank god you found me! When I landed, I came down over this wooden post. It's between me and my shirt, and I can't get free. And it's behind me, so I can't climb up it."

"Keswms kojn fv detmdh wdmis?

"Well yeah, I guess I could try unbuttoning my shirt." Kyle did. Then he stepped free, took his shirt from around the post, and put it back on. "Hey, that was really easy."

"Xvza eim ophswp hbn jwpdtg."

"I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. -Oh my god! When I came down, I hit my head pretty hard on the top of that post! You don't think I'm brain damaged, do you?"

"Vfdo ekmd pfon."

"Quick! Ask me a question!"

"Jgwxtkim shwg dgbdnbs rsdn movjufn?"

"Okay, ask me a question that I'd know the answer to."

"Szcs sbd ktun wghnhd dnds ljf?"

"I dunno, I dunno, I dunno! Oh crap, oh crap! I'm brain damaged!"

"Pnsg ubun ddkfd lhgqbz nsofj dndnd. Sjdhd mn encc iqazp shhb wpobou hs."

"Trans-Canadian Highway? Wizard? Get back to South Park? Okay Kenny, I don't know how to break this to you, but it looks like I'm the least brain damaged person in this conversation."

"Swbn opkmpom gspdfm du oefmomc!" Kenny angrily turned on his heel and set off again along the Trans-Canadian Highway.

Kyle had little choice but to follow. He began singing:

Oh, you might think I've been drinkin',

But when it comes to thinkin',

My brain can't take the strain.

Yes I think I slipped a gidget,

'Cause I'm really quite an idjit.

'Cause I haven't got a brain.

I'm a bore on any subject,

A moron and a reject.

And I'm borderline insane.

Yeah, I count on all my toeses,

And then I count up all my noses.

'Cause I haven't got a brain.

Oh I

Can only try

To answer, clear and true.

I can think until my thinker has turned blue

But then I stop!

Say, wouldn't you?

Yep, twos and twos makes foures

To which you say, "Of courses."

Oh you think it's very plain.

But when I'm in a fuddle,

It's a clear as a mud puddle

'Cause I haven't got a brain.