"Kyle, no!"
Kyle hears Butters shout while he climbs up to the second level. Butters enters through the door, too. Stan peaks around the hall corner at where Butters went.
Butters catches up to Kyle, "Stop! You're not supposed to be in here!"
"God opens doors for you, Butters; all I did was turn the handle," Kyle enters the Analyzing Room on the second story.
"Stop in the name of the law!" Butters orders.
"No!"
"Before you break my heart?"
"Tough."
"Think it o-ooveeerrr!"
"Pass."
Kyle spots the door leading up to the third and final level, reading "C.O.C.", and once again opens another door when its key card reader flashes green. Stan starts to catch up.
"No, Kyle, that's the forbidden zone, where if you're Cretan will die slowly, your stomach will swell, your intestines will writhe and boil, your eyes will burst and some horrible stuff, possible your brains will start coming out through your nose!"
"Then it'll be my own damn fool fault," Kyle then opens the door and climbs up the steps.
Just as Kyle is about at the door, Butters darts between it and holds his arms out.
"Wait! What if I asked you really nicely?" asks Butters.
"Then I'd very politely say 'np'."
"Move it or lose it, Butters," says Stan.
Kyle opens the door. Stan and Kyle stand there dumbfounded with their eyes wide open and jaws hanging agape; before them the floor is a mess, strewn with empty Cheesy Puffs bags and empty metal soda cans. A small sofa on a side of the room has a video game console in front of it and the TV from Eric's house on the other side across from the couch. Small mattresses with plush blankets comic books are directly in front of them against the remaining wall.
"What the fuck?" Stan exclaims.
"Where are the important breakthroughs?" Kyle turns and grabs Butters by the neck collar, "Where is all the important Myentology research?!"
"Please don't hurt me, Kyle!"
"It's all a lie! While we've been cleaning rocks, peeling potatoes, polishing toilets and reading 'The Bridges of Madison County', he's been doing nothing but playing video games!" Kyle says angrily.
"No, that's not entirely true," says Butters, "sometimes he also scratches himself."
"AGH!" Kyle growls.
"What about all those fucking T.P.S. graphs we did every day?" asks Stan.
"Shredded and used as insulation around the building."
"Wait – what about Fartenetics? We say him cure Tweek. I want answers!" Kyle shakes Butters.
"Eric makes some of us wear electric underpants and gives us shocks with a remote control in his pockets. Even though he assures me I'll never get laid, I still want to-"
"AGH!" Kyle growls even more angrily, "You! You were sick! Your dad said you were! Explain yourself!"
"Well, Eric infected me with a cold strain I had before; I got sick briefly before my body destroyed it, so he had me stick my hands in ice water and take cold showers so I'd be cold and have a runny nose all the time. A day or two before you came over, he had me stop and I got all better. Why, as it says in 'The Bridges of Madison County': Complex things are hard to do."
"Fuck this. Come on, Stan, let's get our things and get the hell out of here," says Kyle as he turns around. Stan follows him out the door and down the stairs.
Butters tags along, "But you're Hurling! You can't Hurl until you do a Blow Screening! E.T.C.'s orders!"
"I don't take orders from Cartman anymore. Educate The Children … you know what E.T.C. stands for?" Kyle asks Butters.
"Ah, his initials?"
"Entirely Too Corpulent!" Kyle slams the final door open and heads to the dorm.
Kenny – passing by – sees this and joins them.
Inside the dorm, Kyle grabs his still-packed backpack and waits for Stan to pack.
"What's up?" Kenny asks them.
"We're getting the hell out of bizarro Dodge," Kyle replies.
"Woo hoo!" Kenny exclaims; he packs his thins up as well.
"We trusted you, Butters!" Kyle yells.
"Eric can be so persuasive – I have a hard time saying 'No', plus he paid some of us off to join and encourage more kids to come."
"AAAGGGHHH! I gave that ground blimp almost two months of my allowance!"
"Ready," says Stan.
"Me, too," Kenny adds.
"Wait, what about Wendy?" asks Stan.
"There's no time. Eric will post guards at the doors and we'll be trapped; it's now or never."
Kyle turns the handle to the door out of the complex and when the light turns green, the door opens. However, when it briefly switches back to red, the alarm sounds just as briefly. Kenny, the last one out, stops and looks at Butters.
"You coming, dude?"
"I can't – Eric will put me in front of the Assembly of Tattlers. Sorry, Kenny."
"See you next week," Kenny closes the door.
.
Clyde runs into a dead end. He turns around to see Eric and Gerald blocking the way.
"Craig made me do it," says Clyde.
"Clyde … they're about to find you with so many baskets shoved up your asshole, your reputation will never recover and-" Eric stops abruptly when he hears the alarm go on and off briefly. "Goddamnit – somebody's Hurling! Executive Director, watch this tempestuous un-mutual N.a.D.S. basket bastard!"
Eric goes into full-blown ludicrous waddle to the main hall where the door is.
Gerald stands there and looks at Clyde.
"So, what's with the baskets anyway?"
"It's symbolism, Uncle Gerald."
"Oh. For what?"
Executive Director! Cretans are escaping!" Buttes yells, running over.
"Eric is on it," Gerald replies.
"Oh. What did Clyde do?"
"He … yeah, you know what, I'm in too much legal jeopardy here. Have fun, boys, I'm going home," Gerald leaves.
"For shame, 'M.o.P' Clyde."
"Screw you. This sucks, I'm going, too," Clyde walks off as well.
"No! You can't Hurl while still taking the P.I.S.S., it's bad for you!"
Butters stands alone.
"Ah, Cheeze Wiz – I'm gonna get analyzed again."
.
Eric runs around the building to where the four "M.o.P.S." trikes are and sees three missing. He hops on the remaining one, puts on his pair of highly-reflective sunglasses and says aloud, "It's respect my authorita time."
He cuts the red and blue lights on and peddles furiously to the road, following the muddy wheels tracks out.
"Freedom!" Kyle shouts excitedly.
"Woo hoo, yeah!" Kenny shouts.
"Now that we're free, we can do anything out heart's desire; the world is our oyster. What are you guys going to do?" asks Kyle.
"Play video games," Stan says.
"Play video games," Kenny says, too.
"Huh. Me too," Kyle comments.
They all suddenly hear a siren.
"Where's that coming from?" asks Stan.
"Kenny looks behind them and sees Eric peddle over the road kill top, still flashing the lights, "Over there!"
"Oh, shit – Sheriff Lardbo is coming!" Stan yells.
"Peddle faster!" Kyle commands.
Eric peddles furiously and quickly closes the gap between him and them when he gains even more speed going downhill.
"Kyle! Kyle, get back to Lake Org this instance!"
"No!"
"Kyle, you can't Hurl without doing a Blow Screening!"
"Blow this!" Kyle shouts back.
"Kyle, I'll be generous and only pound you with B.A.L.L.S. for one week," Eric says, now close enough not to have to yell.
"Suck my balls, ball sucker!" Kyle says back.
"Kyle, if you don't turn around now, all of you will be put before the Assembly of Tattlers where you'll be found un-mutual. Just come back and do the Blow Screening."
"No! We trusted you. I trusted you. We thought Fartenetics was real, but once again you were just farting in our faces for your own perverse pleasure! You're the fucking scorpion that stings the fox mid-stream!"
"Kyle, I'm going to have to give you a demerit for that."
"This was just another one of your money-making schemes, wasn't it?!"
"Ay! Nobody forced you to sign your Cretan over to me for a bazillion years. You all willingly gave your blood, sweat and tears and what little money you get, to Myentology. It's just like Social Security, only without liquidated assets, seized property and Federal prison for failure to pay."
"Coercion and duress!" Kyle shouts.
"Save it for the Blow Screening, Cretan."
"While we labored for you, you sat around coming up with bullshit to torture us with and play video games while stuffing your big fat insatiable craw!"
"Get your ass back over to the compound and do the Blow Screening now!"
"Fuck. You."
"What we've got here is … failure to communicate," says Eric.
"Oh, yeah? Well, I hope this communication is clear!" Kyle sticks a hand in the air and flips Eric off for a prolonged time.
We hear dramatic brass music growls as the view steadily closes in on the glasses on Eric's face, which show the reflection of Kyle's middle finger in each lens.
Eric growls in furious anger and catches up to Kyle, pulling alongside the trike Kyle is on. He side-swipes the trike, causing Kyle to have to regain control and heading.
"Respect my authorita!" he slams into Kyle again, causing Kyle to veer of and hit Kenny, who in turn loses control and spins out and rolls off into the shoulder.
"Oh my God – you killed Ke … oh, never mind; he lived. That was unexpected," Stan comments.
"Eat a dick!" Kyle exclaims.
Stan stops and goes to check on Kenny.
Kyle now also takes turns trying to run Eric off the road.
"Kyle, just take my B.S. and this can all be over with!"
"I'm telling your mom on you!" Kyle shouts.
"Snitch bitch!" Eric yells back.
"Snickers bitch!" Kyle shoots back.
"I am not fat! I'm going to beat you with every last one of my big bones!" Eric rams Kyle, causing Kyle to lose control.
The trikes hit the muddy shoulder and skid out of control; they both flip, throwing Kyle and Eric off onto the rain-soaked side of the road.
Eric pushes himself up in the muddy water, "You know, Child Kyle, I'm beginning to think you're not Myentology material; you're more Hog than your Hog mother."
Muddy waters run down Kyle's puffy red hair, having landed in a puddle after his hat fell off, "You're more fucking delusional than those millennials who think they'll be millionaires by the time they're thirty by doing nothing more than sitting on their asses and watching cat videos online while Tweeting!"
"Hey – I do both those things!"
"To quote Chekov from the original sixth Star Trek film: Eef shoo feets, vhere eet!" Kyle says back.
"UPH!" Eric puts up his fists, "What you need is some Fartenetics."
Kyle walks in circles, holding his fists up, too, "Well, you are full of hot air."
"Bent over and smell my miracle."
Kyle replies, "Shut up and fight already."
"You know, Kyle, I've come a long way since that slap-fight we had. These fists have been training."
"Yeah, fisting," Kyle retorts.
"Enough! Time to find out once and for all who is the better kid," says Eric.
Eric and Kyle slowly circle each other. Their fists tighten, teeth clench and show, and they each gaze intensely at each other. Arm muscles tense up for punches and just before fists fly, headlights crest over the hill in the road and blind them; they turn their heads and cover their eyes.
Gerald slows down and picks up Stan and Kenny, then drives up to Kyle and Eric and comes to a stop.
"Kyle, son, ready to go home?"
"Yes," Kyle lowers his fists and walks over and lets himself into the passenger seat.
"Oh, by the way Eric, if you touch a hair on my son's head, I'll sue you into oblivion."
"Wow, thanks dad."
"No problem, son. I was just following orders under Myentology; I didn't mean anything I said. Though those eyebrows are a little bushy. And Eric, looks like all your followers were leaving while I was pulling away. Enjoy the long walk home," Gerald starts pulling away.
"Wait, hold on dad," Kyle says; Gerald stops again and Kyle looks at Eric, "Cartman … I forgive you. And that's not easy because you make it so fucking hard."
"Oh, Kyle, I'm touched by your words, son; do you want me to give him a lift, too?"
"Fuck no! Screw you, asshole! Walk! There are four lights and you never had me! Deep down inside I always knew this was another one of your convoluted, self-serving, bastardly loads of SHI-"
CUT OT: The bear outside the Blainetology complex. It strains intensely as it tries to squeeze out a massive load of shit. It shakes and roars.
"RRRWAAAAAHHHR!"
It looks up into the sky, blood vessels burst in its ears and it collapses forward onto its face, dead. Behind it a big pile of bloody shit with Breanna sitting in it speechless.
.
-THE END-