Eric sits behind an old rickety wooden desk dragged out of a bigger wooden building. On the desk is a stack of papers and a couple of pens.
Butters, first in line, walks up, "That was amazing, Eric."
"Well, Butters, if you enjoyed Fartenetics, you may be ready to join the Puddle Org."
"What's that?" Butters asks him.
"It's where you train to be a Myentologist and learn to help Translucate others."
"All that technobabble sounds interesting!" says Butters.
"Okay, so you want to join the Puddle Org?"
"Yes, I think."
"Good, good. I just need you to sign this agreement binding your Cretan to us for a bazillion years," Eric pushes a paper forward.
"A bazillion years? Gosh, I can't even comprehend anything over two hundred."
"Butters, just sign it so we can get the line moving."
"Oh, okay," Butters clicks a pen and starts reading, "Gosh, it's rather long."
"I know. Take your time but hurry up."
"There are so many big words in here that I don't know the meaning of."
"Don't worry, there will be plenty of time to figure them out during Word Hurdling."
"Hum, sounds like fun. I'll just go ahead and sign it now."
"Thank you."
"All done," says Butters.
"Thank you. Please don't steal the pen."
Butters moves off and Tweek steps up. Off to a side, being the line, Stan and Kyle look on and talk.
"So, you gonna join?" Stan asks Kyle.
"Maybe."
"I never envisioned the day I'd willingly be in line for Eric."
"It seems harmless enough. I want to help people," says Kyle.
"Yeah, me, too. No white robes or Nike shoes; so far, so good."
"You know what? I'm doing it," Kyle walks over and joins at the end of the line.
"Thank you, Tweek. Next in line.
Kyle stops when he realizes Stan isn't behind him; he turns around, "Wait, why aren't you in line?"
"I don't know," says Stan.
"Don't you want to help people?" Kyle asks him
"Yeah, I do. Helping is nice," says Stan.
"Well, then get in line."
"Something is stopping me."
"Yeah, I know – the farting. But I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for it," says Kyle.
"No, it's not that."
"Oh, okay, I get it – it's like a rollercoaster your first time at a theme park; you just got some nervous jitters," Kyle walks over and grabs one of Stan's hands and pulls him into line.
"I guess that's it…" says Stan.
"Look, Kenny, is already in line," says Kyle.
Kenny shrugs his shoulders, "I was bored."
Some time passes and Kyle finally reaches the desk.
"Kyle, glad to see you. I could always use more Cretans to help me help others. Just sign this agreement binding your Cretan to us for a bazillion years."
"Is that even a real word?" Kyle asks.
"I think so," says Eric.
"'cause," Kyle plays with his iPhone, "I'm at Merriam Webster's online dictionary and it looks like a fake word."
"Kyle, the fact you looked up Merriam's dictionary the definition on 'bazillion' indicates to me you're stretching it a bit."
"That doesn't even make sense. Why a bazillion? At best I might like live to a hundred and thirty," says Kyle.
"What's wrong with that? Are you doing something with your Cretan for a next near bazillion years?" Eric asks Kyle.
"I guess not. Though I have no idea what a Cretan even is," says Kyle.
"The Myentology training will cover that."
"Well, it seems harmless enough. I guess I'll sign it," Kyle then moves down to the signature line and does just that.
"Thank you. And don't steal the pen. Next in line."
Stan moves up, "I'm the last one."
"Okay, Stan, all I need you to do is to sign this agreement binding your Cretan to us for a bazillion years."
"Fine," Stan then signs it.
"Congratulations, Stan – you're the fastest signer today! Please don't steal the pen."
"Well, Kyle, Kenny, butters and others already signed, so I figured what the hell. If there's a problem, I'll join a class-action lawsuit."
Eric stands up, "All right. Congratulations everybody, you are all now official members of Puddle Org training here at Ranch Seasoning. I expect all of you to be here Monday morning at 6:30 am sharp to begin orientation and then training."
All the kids say in unison: "Aaawww…"
"6:30 am during Summer vacation? This sucks," says Stan.
"Take the time tomorrow to hang out with your family and discuss with them your new path in life."
.
Sunday afternoon. Kenny, Kyle and Stan sit in Kyle's house, playing video games.
"So, what do you suppose it's like?" Kyle asks them.
"Killing ogres with hammers?" Stan replies.
"No, the Puddle Org. Is it like the Red Cross? Mercury One? Going out and helping people? Maybe a walk-in help clinic," says Kyle.
"I don't know. Probably local. I don't think our parents would let us out of the county alone, let alone cross state lines," says Stan.
"Cross state lines? What are you kids talking about?" Gerald asks.
"Oh, yeah – I forgot. Our friend Eric started an organization to help people and we joined it; we start training tomorrow morning."
"That's great son. I'm glad to see your religion has taught you well. What's the name of the organization?"
"Puddle Org. It's part of Myentology," Kyle replies.
"Hum. I'll have to check it out. Where's it located?"
"Over at the old Lake Blue Fish."
"Tell you what – how about I drive you boys out there tomorrow?"
"Cool. Thanks dad."
.
Early the next morning as the sun is still rising, Gerald pulls into the patchy grassy area off the road where Ranch Seasoning is located. He puts the vehicle in park and looks over at Kyle who is still sound asleep in the passenger seat after having been buckled in. In the back seat Stan and Kenny also sleep.
Herald gently nudges Kyle, "Wake up, son – we're here."
"Huh?" Kyle says as he awakens.
"Come on, get your stuff," says Gerald as he opens his door and steps to the back to open the trunk.
Kyle jumps out and looks around to see other kids already there. He takes his school backpack out of the passenger side floor board. The back doors open and Stan and Kenny hop out, too; Gerald brings them their backpacks from the trunk.
"What time is it?" Stan asks.
"6:25."
The remaining kids come walking in or riding bicycles in.
"This reminds me of when I was a kid in the Boy Scouts. We learned all kinds of things. How to make fires, how to forge for food, identity animal tracks, identify rodent genitalia…"
"Nah, I just wanna help people. I'm perfectly happy living in the Civil Society and buying food and not even having to think about rodent genitalia. That's worth some alienation of my liberty," says Kyle.
They all turn to see Butters when they hear his voice over a bullhorn, "Attention children, attention: The Commissioner will be out shortly. Please form a line side-by-side. Thanks."
Gerald watches the kids form a line, "Discipline – that's good."
"I can't believe we're doing this," Stan comments.
"It's good to shake things up sometimes.," Kyle says to him.
The door to a shed opens and Eric steps out, dressed in a Popeye the Sailor Man faux Navy suit, white hat, and dark sunglasses that reflect everything in front of him but keep his eyes hidden."
"A fine bunch of young children…" Eric says to Butters, "Welcome to Ranch Seasoning. You're all here because you want to train to help people. Be forewarned: This is a strict personal and physical training regimen. If you want to become Myentologists, I expect you to strictly adhere to rules and regulations. I can be a good guy or I can be one real mean son of a bitch. It's up to you."
"Sounds like you kids are in good hands. Have fun," Gerald turns around and heads back to the car.
"Butters, show them to their Dumpings."
"Yo ho, Commissioner!"
"Wait, where will you be?" Kyle asks Eric.
"I'll be in mu bunk; I have important Myentology stuff to work on. See you in twenty-five minutes," Eric recedes back into his shack, barely cracking the door open.
"Walk this way, fellas, "Butters motions; they follow.
They enter a big old shack with broken windows, holes in the wall, broken and loose baseboards, mold and mildew, and rats eying Kenny.
Butters speaks, "Why, ah, these are the children's Dumpings, where you'll be staying during your Myentology training. You'll each be assigned a mattress – sleeping on the wrong mattress is one demerit; you're required to keep it clean, failure to do so is one demerit; you'll each be assigned a uniform that you must keep clean, failure to do so is ne demerit; not being ready for inspection is one demerit; complaining about demerits is one demerit; several sequential demerits puts you in a state of Obama. The uniforms are in that cardboard box. You have twenty minutes to unpack, pee, and get changed for inspection," Butters then leaves.
"Well, this sucks," says Stan.
"Mother Teresa lives in squalor to help other people – so can we. Come on – we're a part of something now, the Puddle Org; let's get these uniforms on," Kyle reaches down and hands them each a uniform; tucked away into generic plastic shopping bags, they each remove articles and hold them up.
They each hold up obviously used clothing of blue pants, yellow shirts, with Ranch Seasoning written in green across the shirts.
"Spicy," Stan says with a little sarcasm.
.
All the kids line up as before, only dressed in their Ranch Seasoning uniforms. Butters joins them in line. Butters looks at the time, then just as 7:00 is about to hit, he blows a piccolo hanging around his neck, playing the three notes from old maritime tradition. At 7:00 sharp the door to Eric's shock opens and Eric walks out. Like the original captain of the U.S.S. Excelsior in "Star Trek III: The Search for Spock", he whacks a leg with a riding crop impatiently.
Eric begins inspection.
"Looking good, Child Butters."
"Yo ho, Commissioner!"
"Looking good, random nameless kid.
"Gee, thanks," says the kid.
"Tweek, that pointy unkempt hair is totally unacceptable. You'll need to slick it back. Consider this your only warning."
"Oh—" he sees Eric look at him when Eric lowers his face down to reveal his eyes just over the rims of the glasses, "kay. Agh," he twitches nervously.
"The same goes for all of you. And no hats," says Eric.
Kenny takes off his hood, "Awww…"
"But you're wearing one," says Kyle.
"That's one demerit, Child Kyle. Do not give any guff. Guff is unacceptable. I know what's best here at Ranch Seasoning."
"Sorry," says Kyle.
"Sorry what?" Eric asks Kyle.
"Sir?"
"Commissioner," Eric corrects him.
"Sorry Commissioner," he removes his hat and his big fluffy red hair pops up.
He continues looking each kid over.
"Good. Everything appears to be in order," Eric walks back away from them, "Remember to keep your kennies clean. Normally this time of morning you'd be childrening your posts, but being the first day, instead I shall fill you in on some basics. While researching more deeply into how to help others. I discovered that each person has a Cretan in them," Eric sees Kyle raise a hand, "Yes, Child Kyle?"
"Is that like a soul?"
"Good question, Kyle. A Cretan is a being of energy that resides in us all; the human body is merely a Hot Pocket for it to temporarily reside. As a result, you are all Cretans. And Cretans are imperfect and need to be molded. Before you can help anybody else, you need to help yourself. Here you will learn to help all Hogs become Translucent," he sees Butters raise a hand, "Yes, Child Butters?"
"We're helping pigs now, Commissioner?"
"No, Child Butters, Hogs are people who are not Myentologists. They're pre-Translucents. The goal is to Trans' the whole world. Only then can Hogkind move from a Condition of Befuddlement to All Bars."
Stan raises a hand and speaks when Eric points at him, "Conditions, Commissioner?"
"Since Cretans are imperfect and need molding, during said molding Cretans will move up the Conditions ladder. All Cretans begin at Befuddlement. They move through Obama, Never-doWell, questioning, Problem Child, Dodo, Danger, E.R., Regular Affluence, Transformers, and ultimately hope to reach the most powerful Condition of All Bars."
"I guess that makes sense," says Stan aloud.
"Here at Ranch Seasoning, you'll be learning a lot that will appear odd to Hogs, so it's important to have a land story. Hogs can be jealous and irrational and not to be trusted. Kyle?"
"I'm sure I can trust my mom, Commissioner," says Kyle.
"Kyle, your mom's a Hog. She may be the biggest Hog in the whole wide world. So, when Hogs come here or you're out in the Hog world, you need to be creative about what you do, where you work, and be selective about what you say. Any questions? Child Butters?"
Butters lowers his hand and asks, "But, ah, aren't we all just Hogs, too, just Hogs under Myentology?"
"Yes and no. Hogs don't even know they're Hogs. You, on the other hand, have taken the first step in recognizing you're a Hog and that two legs are good, four legs are bad. With Myentology's help you'll all become Trans-Cretans. Okay, breakfast is in about an hour, so why don't you all just kick back until then."
"Come on, Tweek – time to go get breakfast ready!" says Butters.
As Tweek and Butters leave, with no further word, Eric turns around and goes back into his shack.
Kyle looks at Kenny and Stan and says, "There must be something interesting to do around here. Come on – let's go exploring."
.
CUT TO about forty minutes later as three of them look about the ground elsewhere on Ranch Seasoning.
"Found anything yet?" Kenny asks them.
"I found a rock," says Kyle.
"I found another rock. How about you, Kenny?" asks Stan.
"Another used condom," Kenny responds.
"This kinda sucks," says Kyle.
"Hey – Clyde is coming. Maybe he found something," says Stan.
"Hey, Clyde, found anything?" Kyle asks.
"Just rocks and trash. I think I saw Jesus' face in a rock, but it turned out to be one of the bearded guys from ZZ Top," Clyde responds.
"I guess that would be kind of cool if I knew who ZZ Top was," says Kyle.
"Anyway, Butters says to go get cleaned up and meet at the Trough Hall," Clyde tells them all.
"Good, I'm starving. Where's the shower – we don't have one in our Dumpings," Stan asks.
Clyde points to the lake.
"But that water must be like fifty degrees," says Kyle.
"Tough. Wait until you have to use the holes," says Clyde.
"The holes?" Kyle asks.
.
The kids enter a small dilapidated barn. In the center are pig feeding troughs arranged into a square. Inside the troughs are plastic grocery bags lining them and food inside the bags.
"Where are the chairs?" Stan asks.
Butters, dumping food into a trough with an ice cream scoop replies, "The Commissioner says they sit on the ground in China, so a billion Chinese people can't be wrong. Plus, all the chairs are currently in use."
"So, where are the chopsticks then?" Stan asks.
"Sorry, children, but we can't afford them," says Butters.
"What's for breakfast?" Kyle asks.
"Grade F gruel, a small package of plain peanuts, celery sticks, and Soylent milk"
"Well, I guess it's better than nothing," Kyle comments.
"I don't know, it just seems like the un-unnecessary and cruel thing the old Eric Cartman would have done, Stan comments.
"How dare you besmirch dear Commissioner like that! Why, that's going straight into your Tattle folder. E.T.C. paid for all this food so generously for all of us out of his pocket," Butters scorns Kyle and Stan.
"Sorry – I didn't know. Still some residual mistrust," says Stan.
"That's Hog talk. Why, ah, if E.T.C. didn't mean well, he'd have made you bring your own food," says Butters.
"Yeah, I guess…" Kyle comments.
"Eight-thirty sharp!" Butters yells out, "Gruel time!"
All the kids kneel down and begin eating out of the troughs with their mouths. Kyle notices Butters walk off and sit at a table with Tweek. Eric shows up seconds later and sits to eat with the two.
"Huh," Kyle blurts out.
"For the love of God – will whomever is snorting like a pig stop? I'm eating here," says Stan annoyed.
.
The kids once again line up.
"I'm surprised we didn't have to clean up before inspection," says Stan.
"Good. Maybe now we'll get some training," says Kyle.
Eric again exists his shed. Butters plays the old maritime three-note piece on the piccolo again.
Eric says, "God, Butters, play something else – Tasha Yar is rolling around in her grave…"
"Yo ho, Commissioner. At attention, Cretans!" Butters commands.
"Thank you. An important part of being a Myentologist is learning how to master utilizing your person, energy, space, and time. To achieve this, all Cretans are required to do P.E.S.T. work. Of first order is fixing the grounds so they meet local city ordinances. So, I need all Cretans to pull weeds and move rocks. Other tasks as assigned," Eric then goes back into his shed.
"Kenny and Clyde, you'll lead weed pulling detail. Stan and Kyle, you'll fish rocks out of the lake to make perimeter wall. The rest of you, pick up loose debris and rake. Well, come on, this place isn't going to fix itself," says Butters.
Kyle, Kenny, and Stan glance at each other. Clyde looks over.
"So, ah … glancing is a thing now?"