Four days later. The kids are lined up for inspection, which Eric is already doing.
"Water that cowlick back, Child Tweek. Child tom, your Wesley is on backwards."
"But the zipper in on the back, E.T.C.," says the kid.
"The zipper goes deceptively on the front. Aside from a random weaved basket that keeps appearing every day and some Cretan will pay dearly for when I catch him, everything looks good. Good news, Cretans – today is Wednesday. Aside from some time in H.E.L.L., each Wednesday we spend the day celebrating another successful week of Myentology studies by having some fun; graduation for courses completed, certificates, testimonials, and a special video presentation! Hip hip."
"Hooray," Butters says.
Craig joins in, "Hip hip!"
"HOORAY!" all the kids shout in unison.
"Now get cleaned up and ready to eat," says Eric.
.
The kids head for the unisex bathroom/shower wing.
"Agh – I can't take these unisex showers anymore, even if we are in beach wear. Wendy keeps making a B-line for me. And the letter B just reminds me of rotated boobs," says Stan.
"Just use the boner corner if you have to; we'll lay cover for you," says Kyle.
"Why can't we just have separate bathrooms? What sensible honest person would object to that?" asks Stan.
"honesty and sensibility don't enter into it; the decision was made for us from the top down without warning, advertisement, or approval; it's over – just use the boner corner," says Kyle.
"This sucks," Stan replies.
"I hear tale there's a corner for that, too," says Kyle.
.
All the kids sit in the former Blainetology theater room; some kids sit on the floor since there is a lack of seating. Eric walks on stage wearing an out-of-date microphone headset like the Sham-Woo commercial guy.
"Welcome and thank you all for coming to the first every Myentology Weekly spectacular!"
Butters and the "M.o.P.s" clap; Butters claps more excitedly.
"Since it's only been a week and there are no course graduations yet, here's special mention of all the Cretans who graduated from the Puddle Org to the Lake Org," he motions up to the projector screen behind him and with a press of a button one a wireless remote, the room lights dim and video plays. A slide show of Elementary School year book photos of all the kids in the room plays while the cue The Thorn Room from "Star Wars: A New Hope" plays. One clip has Craig and Clyde Photoshopped together side-by-side.
When it's done, the lights go back up and the "M.o.P.s" clap again, spurring kids who begin to feel singled out and awkward, to clap, too. Butters bounces in his seat even more excitedly and clapping louder than before.
"Give yourselves a round of applause – you're all awesome!"
All the kids clap, not minding applauding themselves.
"Wow, nobody's ever said I'm awesome before, not even my parents!" says Tweek.
"And now a video and picture montage of Ranch Seasoning, before and after, to showcase what we leave behind," Eric again steps aside and the lights dim.
For a few minutes they watch the montage, set to the song The Way You Look Tonight. One of Kyle's eyes twitches and he feels cold shivers go down his back while he sees the lake and again the wall. Finally, it ends and the lights go up.
"Thanks to your P.E.S.T. work, Ranch Seasoning is now Sloppy Toppings – the premiere pig raising and slaughtering farm. To think – you all ate from that very same trough. Give those future Bacon 'n' Bits a round of applause!"
More people clap now. Butters shakes with so much excitement he shoots up like a bottle rocket and claps furiously for a few seconds and then tosses his arms up and does the wave. Finally, after many seconds when he notices nobody else has joined him, he stops.
"And as a reward, I shall read some cowboy poetry followed by selected quotes from 'The Bridges of Madison County'. Ahem," he clears his throat, "I Wish I Knew How to Quit You, by…"
.
Almost an hour later, Kyle is awakened when his head smacks the seat in front of him from having fallen asleep and fallen forward. He sits back up dazed and wipes drool from his chin.
Clyde turns around, "Would you and my seat like to get a room?"
A random kid says in a low voice to another, "Clyde just asked Kyle if he'd like his seat in a room; pass it on…"
"And now for a new honor, Child of the Week; in recognition each week, in the service of Myentology, we honor one of you. In this bowl," he reaches over to a fish bowl on a step stool next to him, "I have three crumpled up pieces of paper with the names of three of you who all deserve the honor, but only one will get. And the winner is…" he reaches into the bowl, pulls out a waded piece of paper and un-crumples it to reveal a Chinese fortune cookie clips with the sentence: Fortune not found: Abort? Retry? Ignore?
"Child butters! Come up here!"
"Yaaayyy! Yaaayyy! Yaaayyy!" Butters runs up and stands by Eric, smiling wide.
"For you tireless COP work, and for your mastering of penis and helping me with my C.O.C., you're this week's winner!"
"Gosh golly, Commissioner!"
"Gosh golly indeed. Smile for the camera," Eric walks in front of Butters with an old 1980's-style Polaroid camera he pulled out of the podium's cozy and takes a picture of Butters.
The picture spits out and Eric takes it and shakes it. He then writes the date on the bottom portion.
"Congrats. This will be pinned to the wall in the Hall of All Honored Associates Helping Allies."
"Fantastic!"
"And you may sit down now," says Eric.
"Okay," Butters goes back to his seat.
"Let's take a thirty-minute bathroom break. Failure to flush is one demerit."
The kids start to get up and walk to the exit door.
.
Ten or so minutes later; Stan, Kenny, Kyle and Clyde hang out in the hall.
"I got a theory, Kenny," says Clyde.
"Your theory cup runneth over," says Kenny.
"Instead of having a winner and a bunch of losers, they created a system of people who didn't lose as badly so more awards and medals could be sold. Let's face it, unless it's a silver medal from the Olympics, body cares if you came in second or even third place. What use is a cheap second-place bowling tournament trophy other than to regale your friends about that one time you almost won? Nobody else cares. All it does is sit there out of sight of the rest of humanity, collecting dust until one day twenty years later when you're on your fourth or fifth move you finally look at it and decide this is the year you're finally going to throw it away. Unless relatives come to visit or you get a girlfriend you really want to impress. It's all a scheme to make lots of money selling cheap plastic trophies with gold-colored paint and reflective shiny things to dazzle the holder's eyes."
"So, if Commissioner gives you an award…"
"I'll take it. What else am I going to use to help me maybe get laid one night at my inevitable ultra-cool bachelor pad?"
"Charm?"
"I have a new theory: you're an Obamahole."
"Hey, I have a theory, too," Kenny shoots back.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Kenny, you need to hang with us more often; Clyde's a bad influence," says Stan.
"Is that so? Well, I've got theories to go all around!" says Clyde.
.
The last of the kids sit back down in the theater presentation room.
"All right," Eric speaks again with the headset, "Now that you're all seated, it's time to go back to H.E.L.L.; today we'll be focusing on the kitchen and halls for the next three hours. After that, more Wednesday fun! Now scrub-a-dub-dub."
The image flips to Kyle spraying and wiping the main hall wall.
"Wipe that spot again, Child Kyle," says Eric.
"Wiping that spot again, boss."
"Good. Now wipe that other spot."
"Wiping that other spot, boss."
"Good. Keep wiping it."
As Kyle wipes the wall more, Eric walks around him, eyeballing the wall from different angles.
"What is this?" Eric asks.
"Ahhh … the wall?" Kyle asks.
"What is that?" Eric says pointing at another spot.
Kyle looks, looks at Eric, then looks at the spot Eric is pointing to again, thinking he's perhaps missed something, "Ah, still the wall?"
"Better wipe it to make sure."
"Wipin' it, boss."
"No, no, no, you're wiping randomly up and down. You gotta do it like the karate kid. Wipe on," he motions with a hand in a counter clockwise motion, "Wipe off," he changes direction to clockwise, "Now you do it. Wipe on."
"Wiping on, boss."
"Now wipe off."
Kyle reverses the circular motion, "Wiping off, boss."
"Next spot. Wipe on.
"Wiping on, boss."
"And now wipe off."
"Wiping off, boss."
Gerald walks by. He stops and puts a hand on the wall to prop himself up while looking down; he eats an apple.
"Looking good, son."
"Thanks, dad."
"Executive Director. One Demerit."
"Thank you, Executive Director."
"No problem," Gerald takes his hand off to reveal a dirty hand print with apple juice and loose bits.
"Stain at twelve o'clock, Child Kyle. Stop stool, Child Tweek, "Eric orders.
"On it, Commissioner!"
"Missed a spot," Eric points to another place on the wall.
.
Later on that day. All the kids are seated in the theater room again, already into listening to Eric speaking.
"And what's your favorite part of being a 'M.o.P', Child Clyde?"
"The responsibility, trust, and of course the power over other people my age."
"Good, good. Rockin' those estradas, Cretan."
"I know it," Clyde says full of sell-assurance as he walks off stage.
"Okay, who'd like to give a testimonial next?" he looks around for hands.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Butters shouts, waiving a hand wildly.
"Yes, Child Butters, come on down!"
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Butters runs up to and hops up upon the stage.
"Here, put this doucheset on, "Eric hands Butters a spare headset, "So, Child butters, tell all the Cretans what Myentology has done for you."
"Why, ah, I used to be a never-do-well, as my parents like to say, but now help others and hold a position of power!"
"Winning!" says Eric.
"And I was sick, but Fartenetics cured me."
"Wow, that two; you're bi-winning."
"Yeah, I'm totally bi!" Butters exclaims.
Clyde snickers.
"I'm like a high-priest warlord."
"Tell us more."
"Why, ah, everyday I wake up and I'm just banging seven-ounce Oval-Thal's all day. I have one speed, one gear – GO!"
"You got tiger blood, man," says Eric.
"Yeah! I'm like some fine tiger in the prairie long grass, kissin' the wild fires of my rockin' soul! Back off with your judgement!"
"Winning! All you Cretans could learn from Child Butters; his tiger blood is helping to Translucate him. Anything else, Child Butters?"
"Yeah! I'm on a drug, it's called Butters Stotch. It's not available because if you try it once you will die; your face will melt off and your droopy-eyed children will weep over your exploded body! KA-PLOUIEEE!"
"Okay, you can sit down now," Eric says, followed quickly by him clapping so as to distract all the kids from the awkwardness of the exchange. Other kids start clapping, spurred on by all three "M.o.P.s" clapping.
"Okay, Cretans, it's eight thirty - passed dinner time, so clean up, eat, and go to bed. Tomorrow is another glorious day of Myentology."
"Hip hip!" Butters yells.
"Hooray," all the kids say.
"Hip hip!" Butters yells again.
"Hooray!" they all yell back.
The kids start exiting the room quickly.
"I'm so excited I could burst out in song! Who wants to spontaneously burst out into song with me?! Fine, I'll start: Butters – his Cretan's nice and clean. Butters – he smells like Listerine. Butters, there are no others, so…" Butters voice grows more quiet as he vanishes down the hall.
Eric whistles after collecting a few items and heading for the exit. When he walks out the exit, he finds Wendy waiting outside.
"Ah, Child Wendy, how can your master and commander help you?"
"I want to be a 'M.o.P', too."
"I thought you were unhappy with R.C.M.P. duty."
"I was, but now I want special privileges."
"Hum, sounds like you want to take the P.I.S.S. as well."
"No, I can hold it until we're done talking," says Wendy.
"You misunderstand; it's a acronym for: Prominent Individuals Servicing the Scheme."
"Can I be taking the P.I.S.S., too?"
"Well, I kind of already have all the 'M.o.P.s' I need right now, but if you're okay with taking the P.I.S.S. at odd hours, stopping and going, stopping and going…"
"As long as I get more food and the same privileges as the other 'M.o.P.s', I'm okay with infrequent P.I.S.S. taking."
"Welcome about, Child Wendy."
"Thank you, Commissioner. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to take an actual piss."