All the kids wait patiently in the dorm, having been summoned there. Eric and the "M.o.P.s" walk in carrying cleaning supplies and a mop bucket.
"At ease, Cretans. As you may have noticed, this building hasn't been cleaned in a while. In order to meet certain health code violations, you'll be continuing your PEST work here by cleaning. Being that walk-in's will be allowed here, the level of cleanliness required will be very high. This will require a whole new scheme: Housekeeping Entails Lots of Learning. You'll spend the day cleaning the dorm, bathrooms, and kitchen. After that you'll be filling out your required Lake Org paper work, followed by dinner. As I have important new Myentology studies to polish for use tomorrow, I must go, but I'll be back later for H.E.L.L. inspection. TTFN," Eric then leaves, followed by the "M.o.P.s".
Stan glances at Kyle.
"It makes sense; if we're using the bathrooms, we clean them. Better than holes in the ground."
"Hey, didn't we forget the hole buckets?" says Stan.
"Ssshhhhh…" Kyle says, putting a finger to his lips.
.
Kenny and Clyde clean wall urinals next to each other.
"Got any theories?" Kenny asks him.
"Well, since you asked…"
"Damnit."
"My dad told me water fountains didn't used to be everywhere when he was growing up, that they started popping up everywhere in the 1980's. What happened in the 1980's? NASA figured out how to recycle astronaut urine. More people, more bathrooms, more water fountains. Coincidence? I think not."
"I regret asking now," says Kenny.
"EWWW!" Kyle exclaims.
Clyde, Kenny and Stan turn around to look at Kyle, in a toilet stall.
"What?" Kenny asks.
Kyle replies, "Dude, this is the same big fat shit Commissioner tool back during Blaintology. It's petrified some and maggots are crawling in it!"
"How do you know it's his?" Stan asks.
"Because he signed his name in it after it dried some. It says: Cartman."
"I remember – they called all the local plumbers and none of them would come out; his drain-clogging shits are infamous," says Stan.
"I have to stop asking questions," says Kenny.
.
Later that day. All the kids stand silently as Eric walks around. He lifts mattresses and smells them. Once done, he then starts opening drawers.
He opens one and finds wooden baskets, "What is that? Baskets? Fuck."
As Eric opens more drawers, making sure they're clean and orderly, he finds more baskets.
"More? Who's the basket case?" he asks after seeing the drawer is a spare with no assigned name sticker. Nobody raises a hand. "Okay, but this is not the way to Translucate. For every day you don't come forward, two more days of B.A.L.L.S. will be added to your punishment," he then removes a plastic bag from a pocket and opens it, taking out a pair of white gloves which he then puts on.
The kids watch as Eric walks around slowly, using his pointing finger to run across the tops of bunk bed wood side frames. He lifts the dirty finger up.
"What is this?"
"Dust, Commissioner?" Kyle says.
"What is that?" he says after running another finger over another frame top.
"More dust, Commissioner?" Kenny says.
"No, no, no – you can't be serious," Eric then bends over and runs a finger over the top of the nearby electrical outlet cover. "Oh dear, oh dear. Is this some kind of game to you?"
"No, Commissioner," Kyle says for everybody else.
"Well, I'm not playing. H.E.L.L. is no game; it's not Candy Land, it's not Chutes and Ladders, it's H.E.L.L.," says Eric.
.
Now in the bathrooms, using a wet shite cloth, Eric wipes the bottom of one of the sinks; he shows the results to the kids.
"Look at this. Look at this. Have you all given up?"
"No, Commissioner," Kyle says re-assuredly.
"But the sink wasn't even fully cleaned. It's dirty, you fucking doughnut! Who cleaned this sink?"
"Commissioner, I did," Stan fesses up.
"Where's the passion? Honestly, I don't get it; I'm not feeling it. Is this your best?"
"I'll do better, Commissioner," Stan answers.
"You'll do better?" says Eric.
"I promise. My cleaning will be better, stronger, faster."
"Excellent."
After a few more minutes, Eric is already testing the toilets with a digital bacteria tester. He wipes each toilet and sticks the wipe into a tester.
"Pass," he then switches wipes, "Pass," and then switches wipes again, "Pass," and then he puts in the wipe from the toilet that had his old dried signed shit in it, "Oh … my … God; fail. Look at this!" he holds the digital display readout to all the kids and moves it side-to-side, "Five hundred and seventy-three!"
"Is that bad, Commissioner?" Kenny asks.
"Is that bad? Anything above thirty is in the danger zone!"
"Oh."
"Who cleaned this toilet?"
Kyle raises a hand.
"Child Kyle, you are now in the S.H.I.T.; Swabbing the Heads Individually Time. After H.E.L.L. inspection, you'll be cleaning each toilet again until they each get a reading of thirty or lower."
.
After a few minutes, Eric stands in front of them again.
"Okay, Cretans, the overall passing grade is a D; in other words: a fail. You must all clean the dorm and bathrooms again. Chop chop," Eric claps his hands.
The kids begin to disperse. As Kyle walks over to the cleaners to get what he needs, Eric stops him.
"Not so fast, Child Kyle…"
.
In the next shot we see Kyle sitting outside the closed stall door wearing a Chinese toilet paper roll dispenser hat, with a roll on each side and a stream of toilet paper leading to the stall by way of under the door.
"You see, Child Kyle," Eric says; he then farts shit out his ass, creating random chunky plops in the water, "you've yet to get you're A.C.T. together. You just need to AAAGGGHHHaaaaal … you just need to find your Hat in Life. Right now you're in a Condition of E.R.'ing, but if you keep on that Bridge to Somewhere, you'll be in the Condition of Transformer. oooOOHHHYEeaaahhhhh … oh that's a big one."
Kyle's head bobs to the side as Eric yanks toilet paper into the stall.
"Yes, Commissioner."
Eric flushes the toilet it gurgles, struggling to flush all Eric's crap down. He flushes again with some results.
"Yep, you're gonna need long rubber gloves, the round-ball plunger, and a metal coat hanger."
"Coat hanger, Commissioner?"
"To break it up into flushable pieces," he opens the door and takes the toilet paper hat with him out the bathroom.
"Yes, Commissioner," Kyle says apathetically with a blank forward stare.
.
All the kids wait patiently at their bunks – having passed H.E.L.L. inspection – as Eric and the "M.o.P.s" hand out black paper folders and pends to all the kids.
"This is your Black File History, to be filled out by all those wanting to be in the Lake Org. For those thinking about dropping out, reconsider; the rewards will be beyond your comprehension. Even though technically you're in the Puddle Org and are only ten and haven't completed your studies, I think you're all ready for the Lake Org. Take your time; accuracy counts more than speed. I must go now," Eric then makes an about face and waddles off out the dorm.
Kyle and Stan look over the paper work in their folders.
Stan comments, "Looks standard so far: basic info' … wait … credit cards, piggy banks and how much in each, sexual info', crimes and jail time, medications, hospitalizations, drug use, relatives and how they feel about Myentology…"
"Well, I guess it's-"
Stan cuts Kyle off, "No. No it's not."
"I just … maybe I'm not Myentology material," says Kyle.
"You wanna quit?" Stan asks Kyle.
"Well … breakthroughs and rewards are coming, and I do want to learn how to help other people. Maybe it's just video game withdrawals. I don't know how Commissioner deals with it so easily."
"If you're staying, then I'm staying. Hey…" Stan then reads another one of the papers in the black folder, "My penis size is pre-filled in."
Over at Craig and Clyde's bunk, Craig reads one of the pieces of paper, "Detailed sexual history?" he continues reading the sheet, "Do you have sex with women, men, hermaphrodites, animals, Clyde, select as many as applicable."
"What?" Clyde looks at the same sheet in his folder, "Women, men, hermaphrodites, animals and Craig. Goddamnit!"
"Argh – why is my sex option list empty?" Tweek asks.
Wendy reads hers, "Mine has an option for Stan. Can't fault the reality of that eventuality."
"La la la, I can't hear that," Stan plugs his ears with his pointing fingers, "Baseball, Nanci Pelosee, the metric system, George Sorros on the beach in swim trunks. Oh, God – what have I done to my brain?!"
"Pull out! Pull out!" Kyle says to Stan.
"Oh, God he's hideous!"
Butters and Eric, listening outside the door, cover their mouths and laugh quietly.
.
Later that day. Stan and Kyle once again find themselves peeling potatoes, now in the new kitchen, for dinner preparation.
Kyle speaks after a long silence, "Do you suppose Mr. Potato Head has a penis? He has a wife and, as a I recall, a son, so Potato Heads reproduce, right? Is it a regular penis or do you suppose it's detachable like his eyes and nose? If it detaches, does that mean Mrs. Potato Head can use it? Can she get other female Potato Heads pregnant?"
"Maybe they're asexual like tribbles, re-producing at will," says Stan.
"Or they're grown like pod people. So, what do Potato Head people eat? Certainly not potatoes, potato chips, mashed potatoes, Spudnuts doughnuts or other products with potatoes as ingredients – it would be cannibalism. I can't imagine a world without potato chips. And how long do they live? Wouldn't they die from simply spoiling? With such a short life span, wouldn't that mean they have to have sex and re-produce at a higher rate than humans? And that would probably necessitate more sexual partners. So many partners would naturally mean inbreeding like crazy."
"Dude, why are we talking potato penises and potato people sex lives?" Stan asks Kyle.
"I don't know. I'm spacing out. I think peeling potatoes is finally getting to me."
"Just hang in there; tomorrow is all that fancy new training we were promised," says Stan.
.
Hours later. All the kids are cleaned up and dressed in their after-hours kennies. As kids are setting in and getting ready for the P.A.S.S. scheme, Eric enters the dorm.
"Evening, Cretans. I trust you enjoyed exploring your new Myentology training facility and are ready for the new training schemes tomorrow."
"Yes, Commissioner," all the kids say about the same time in reply.
"Good. On the christening of the new location, I was going to lead off the P.A.S.S. scheme myself instead of letting you all do it as usual, but since Child Kyle is now in C.R.A.P., I've decided to have him touch all of you instead. Child Kyle, you have the honors."
Kyle sighs, turns to Stan and puts a finger on one of Stan's arms, "Can you feel that?"
.
After several minutes, Kyle finishes; kids lie down for the night. When Kyle reaches for the sides of the bunk bed ladder, he hears Eric give him an order.
"Hold on, Child Kyle."
"Commissioner?"
Eric puts a hand on Kyle's ass, "Can you feel that?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, grasp the ladder handles."
"Yes, Commissioner," Kyle says when he does so.
"Now put your left foot on the first rung."
Kyle does so.
"Climb up one step."
Kyle does so.
"Step down one time."
Kyle does so.
"now climb up two steps."
Kyle does so.
"Step down once."
Kyle does so.
"Climb up two steps."
Kyle still continues to do so.
"Step down twice."
Kyle does so.
"Step back down onto the floor."
Kyle stands back on the dorm floor.
"Now climb up one step. Climb up another. And another. And up another step."
Eric pauses while Kyle is on the ladder, to take a bite of a big red apple.
"Climb one step up again."
Kyle does so, putting him one final rung from the bed.
"Okay, now … step down one time."
Kyle does so.
"Climb one step up. Now, again one final time."
Now Kyle stands on the final rung.
"Now you may lay down. Nighty night, Cretans," Eric says as he waddles off to the door out. He shuts the lights out.
Kyle lies there with his eyes open, twitching all over as kids fart in bed.