Eric and Gerald sit at Eric's table in the feeding barn.
"So, Mr. Broflovski … what do you want?"
"In. I want in."
"What do you mean?"
"I want to be vice president or whatever you call it in Myentology. I've got two months of vacation time saved up and instead of taking shit from clients, judges, the district attorney and others, I'd like to be the one dishing out the shit."
"Well, Mr. Broflovski, Myentology is all about bettering man and helping others, not shit dishing."
"Oh, I'm well aware of what Myentology is about…" Gerald says knowingly to Eric.
"All right … all right. Okay, so there is no vice president or second-in-command position in Myentology, but I can, however, make you executive director of Puddle Org and Lake Org."
"What's an executive director?"
"The kind of meaningless bullshit title you give to rappers on films. Basically, you out-rank Butters, but are my subordinate."
"I accept the title, however, the agreement is null and void unless one stipulation is met."
Eric sighs in an annoyed voice, "What's that?"
"I have equal unfettered access to your shack."
"What? I'm not giving you access to my shack."
"Either you do it or I tell on you."
Eric mumbles in a grouchy voice as he fishes a key out of a pocket, "Here's a spare key. Only Butters has access aside from us; no one else allowed in. All Cretans must remain five feet from the shack when opening and closing the door."
"We have a deal. Shake on it?" says Gerald.
"Fine," Eric says, still annoyed.
They shake hands.
"Let me fill you in on how things work. Apple?" Eric offers.
"Yes, please."
Eric gives Gerald a big red Granny Smith apple from a mini fridge next to the table. They both eat apples at the same time.
.
Friday morning. All the kids are lined up for inspection. Butters blows the old traditional Maritime three-note motif on the piccolo around his neck. The shack door opens.
"Commissioner on deck!" Butters yells.
Eric waddles out whacking the side of his left leg with a riding crop.
"Good morning, Cretans. Today marks a glorious new day here at Ranch Seasoning. With the move to the new Lake Org location fast approaching, additional help will be needed to oversee Puddle Org operations. Without further ado, I give you the executive director of Puddle Org," Eric looks back.
The shack door opens slightly, and Gerald walks out in a faux Navy Popeye the Sailor Man outfit just like Eric.
"Dad?" Kyle says in a surprised voice.
Gerald waves to Kyle, "Hey, son."
"Executive director Broflovski will be handling inspections this morning. Executive director?" Eric motions toward the kids.
Gerald walks up to the first kid and looks each of them up and down, "Brush the hair, Child Kenny – it doesn't look presentable."
"Yes, sir," Kenny removes a comb from a pocket.
"Good, good, good, good … Child Tweek, pull those pants up."
Tweek almost utters something, but looks at Eric and them does not when he sees Eric has a hand in a pocket.
Gerald finishes up and then stands next to Eric again.
"Like all of you, Executive Director Broflovski came to us as a Hog, but after witnessing what we do in Myentology, he has decided to begin on the Bridge to Somewhere to one day become Translucent and in a Condition of All Bars. Welcome him aboard. Hip hip!"
"Hooray!" all the kids shout in unison.
"Would you like to say anything, Executive Director?" Eric asks.
"Yes. Even though Child Kyle is my son and I have power over you, I promise to be fair and show him no favoritism."
"Damn," Kyle utters in a whisper-quiet voice.
"Think of me like as a relative. In fact, don't even call me by Executive Director, call me uncle Gerald. Any questions? Yes, you next to Child Kenny."
"Child Clyde," Eric says to Gerald.
"What happened to Breanna, Commissioner?"
"Who is she?" Gerald asks.
"The new girl who ran away last night, uncle Gerald," Clyde replies.
"A girl ran away?" Gerald comments to Eric.
"Her parents are hippies, so it's no big deal; she can live of the land. I left them a voicemail about it."
"Well, I don't know," Gerald replies back to Clyde.
Eric comments, "I assure you all it was just a fluke; everybody loves Ranch Seasoning."
"Well, I guess that's all I got to say. See you all at breakfast," says Gerald.
.
Once again the kids form a line to the clean rocks (and rocks being cleaned), to be passed down to the small group cementing them into a wall. Wendy inserts herself in.
"Move, Kenny," she says, so he can be next to Stan.
"Okay," Kenny replies.
"Hey, Stan."
"Hey, Wendy."
"Careful…" Kyle cautions Stan.
"How are you doing, Stand?" Wendy asks.
"Okay and in compliance with the rules of Myentology."
"It's not against the rules to talk, is it?" Wendy asks him.
"No, I guess not," says Stan.
"Good. So, I was thinking about you last night while I was in bed," says Wendy.
"I can't hear this!"
"Maybe if I whispered it into your ear…"
"No, no, no, let's talk about something else. Say, what exactly is in that mystery much anyway?"
Eric walks by, singing while slowly whacking one of his legs with the riding crop, "Like a rock. I was strong as I could be. Like a rock…"
"Permission to use the holes, Commissioner!" Stan blurts out.
"Use the holes, Child Stan. C.O.P. Butters, escort him."
"Yes, sir, Commissioner," Butters replies.
The two walk off to the holes.
Gerald monitors the wall construction.
"Looking good, Cretans. Yep, in another few days it'll be completed; then you can paint it. Child Clyde, try that rock. No, that one."
"It doesn't fit, uncle Gerald."
"Try that other one next to it."
"Not that one either, uncle Gerald."
"Oh, well, you'll get it," Gerald says and pats Clyde on the head and then walks away.
Clyde then picks up the correct rock he had intended to the whole time and shoves it into some cement, like a puzzle piece into the wall.
"I have a theory, Kenny."
"Ah huh," Kenny says, slapping some cement on the wall.
"Paint companies offer various shades of paint so people self-segregate their houses and cars and therefore themselves by their favorite colors, thus separating and diving us in order to further paint sales."
"What if everyone buys the same color? Wouldn't they still make the same amount of money?" Kenny asks.
"No, 'cause not all paint colors are the same price. And market supply and demand wouldn't allow for them to artificially raise prices to recap the loss."
"They can still sell outside the country other colors."
"Don't burst my theoretical bubble," says Clyde.
Gerald walks up and stands next to Eric, who is at a table with some lemonade, sipping a cup with a lime wedge on the rim.
"I totally micro-managed rock picking," he says as he pours himself a glass, too.
.
Breanna wanders through the forest. She pauses by a tree and hugs it. She then takes out a pad and pen and writes.
"Day three. I'm obviously lost and have gone in the opposite direction of all known civilization. In an attempt to survive, I have used all the survival skills my hippies parents have taught me, but alas I have yet to find a single Starbucks or Lucky's Market. To try and appease Mother Earth, I have hugged as many trees as possible; I also hugged a deer, which kicked me and ran away. Wait, I think I see a bear … I shall attempt to hug it…"
Breanna stands up just as the bear exits some brush. It looks at her.
"Hello, bear."
"Rrrwwwarrrgh!"
"Don't be afraid, bear, I love you. We are one with nature."
"Aaarrrguh…" the bear rumbles it's voice.
"Let's hug!" she opens her arms up wide and looks at the bear.
The bear growls and stands up; as it growls, Breanna walks up and hugs it. It stops growling and looks down at her.
"Aaawww…" the bear mumbles.
"See? We don't have to be enemies. With just a little peace and lo-"
"GRRRA-UMP!" the bear devourers her in one gulp. It gets back down on all fours and licks its lips as it wanders away.
.
Stan stands at a hole, peeing. He hears a noise and looks over to see Craig next to him at a hole. Stan looks down.
"Agh, dude, you've got your dick out!" says Stan.
"What else would I pee out if?" asks Craig.
"Can't you see I'm using the hole?"
"There's more than one. We can be pee buddies," says Craig.
"Agh! Eyes on the prize or next semester everyone's gonna hear you and Clyde are pee buddies."
"Fine. But don't threaten a guy who'll pee on you."
"See, it's words like that that aren't helping your reputation."
.
Stan and Kyle prepare dinner.
"Let me ask you a question: you wouldn't pee next to a guy, would you?" Stan asks Kyle.
"Why – you don't want to pee next to me, do you? That might be the limit of our friendship," Kyle replies back.
"No, no, just a hypothetical."
"Oh. You going to make it without getting in trouble again?" Kyle asks Stan.
"I think so. Commissioner says I'm about to be placed under B.A.L.L.S.."
"That doesn't sound good. What is it?"
"I don't know, but he assures me it's bad. If I can just avoid Wendy until we graduate from the Lake Org and start helping people, I think I'll be okay. I really don't want to be Analyzed again either," Stan replies back.
"What's that?" Kyle asks.
"Something he does when you have O/H's tattled."
"Oh. Good thing I don't have a girlfriend. Guess I get to avoid any Analyzing," says Kyle.
.
Shortly after 9:00 pm. The last study block has already ended and kids are in line at the water faucet to clean up, as well as use the hole. As Stan walks away from the holes, he hears a voice.
"Pst…" the whisper comes.
Stan looks over, "Wendy?"
"Hey, Stan. Come here…"
Stan looks around to make sure no one is looking, then darts behind a shed, "We can't do this."
"We haven't done anything yet," Wendy says.
"No, just being here without telling anybody is a Holdback."
"Oh, nobody will know," Wendy assures him.
"My needle won't float!"
"How about a kiss, Stan?"
"A kiss?" he looks around nervously.
"Yeah huh. I know you've thought about it."
"Ah, maybe."
"Then how about a quick one?"
"Uuummm … quickly, turn a cheek to me."
"No cheeks, Stan; we're not in kindergarten anymore."
"The lips?" Stan says, wide-eyed.
"Duh."
Stan leans in and says, "2B…"
Just as they kiss, they hear a throat clear.
Stan looks over and sees Eric, "…or not to 2B."
"Child Stan, welcome to B.A.L.L.S.; come with me…"
.
Eric pulls on a rope slowly with each hand as he speaks, "You see, Child Stan, when a Cretan has repeatedly been under the Condition of Problem Child, said Cretan gets placed into B.A.L.L.S. – Bad Actors Lacking Levelness Scheme. B.A.L.L.S. is though; there's no fun at all, which will make you blue," he stops pulling once the old rickety dingy from the center of the lake is up to the shore.
"I didn't mean to; she tricked me with her alluring feminine wiles!"
"That's what they all say. You'll be sleeping here while under B.A.L.L.S.; pick up your pillow and blanket. One demerit."
"Oh. This isn't so bad. At least nobody will touch me before bed," Stand comments to himself aloud.
"This is just the sleeping arrangement. Tomorrow you'll really be pounded by B.A.L.L.S.; get your rest, you're gonna need it."
"Yes, Commissioner," Stan says with a sound of defeat in his voice. He starts to climb in.
"Oh, Child Stan…" Eric calls out.
"Yes, Commissioner?"
Eric touches Stan on an arm, "Can you feel that?"
"Yes."
"Good. Goodnight."
Stan climbs in. Eric shoves the dingy off; it slowly works its way out into the small lake.
Stan places the blanket and pillow down and lies on his back.
He starts singing, "If they could see me now, out on a lake cruise…"