SOUTH PARK
Pediatric Pervert
by Steve Sutton

Rated PC-MA

(Garrison calls the class to order.)
Garrison: Okay, everybody, take your seats. I have an important announcement.
(Everyone goes to their seat and sits down.)
Garrison: As you may or may not have heard, the Supreme Court recently overturned a ban on school prayer. Now, what this means is that you all have to renounce your current religion and worship me and Mr. Hat, if you ever want to get out of the third grade.
(He starts writing on the blackboard.)
Garrison: Anyway, class, as your new supreme overlord, I'd like to impose a set of commandments on you. Number one is...
(Kyle raises his hand.)
Garrison: What is it, Kyle?
Kyle (scratchy voice): We're not going to worship you, Mister Garrison.
Clyde: Yeah, we don't even like you that much.
Stan: No, dude. We don't like him at all.
Clyde: Yeah, that's what I meant.
Wendy: Mister Garrison? What the Supreme Court's decision means is that schools now have the right to hold prayers in the classroom. A tragedy, I know. I mean, Church and State are two completely incompatible things. Trying to put them together, like that, is just asking for trouble.
Garrison (pausing): Well, thank you, Miss Buchanan, for that totally uncalled-for editorial.
(He looks at Mr. Hat.)
Garrison: See, Mister Hat? I told you this wasn't going to work.
(He goes to his desk and sits down.)
Garrison: Anyway, I hope you all remembered to bring in your permission slips for our little surprise field trip, today. If not, you'll just have to spend the whole day in the library, reading a bunch of stupid books, while the rest of us are out having fun.
Craig (looking down): Crap.
Garrison: Kyle, you can go around and collect them from everybody, since you want to be such a little smartass, today.
(Kyle gets up and starts collecting the permission slips.)
Cartman: Mister Garrison? Where are we going on the field trip?
Garrison: Well, if I told you that, Eric, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now, would it?
Stan: Tell us, anyway.
Garrison: Well, we're going to a farm, just outside of town, to learn all about agriculture and other stupid things you'll never have any use for.
Stan (pausing): No, really, tell us.
(Kyle gives Garrison the permission slips and returns to his seat.)
Garrison (checking them): Well, I just did, Stan. Okay, it looks like Token and Craig are the only ones not coming with us, class. You boys can just scuttle on off to the library, now.
(Craig flips Garrison off.)
Garrison: That's not helping, Craig.
(Token and Craig get up and leave.)
Cartman: Mister Garrison? Can't we go somewhere a little less sucky, like, maybe, ballroom dancing or a fashion show?
Kyle (scratchy voice): Yeah, why do we have to go to some lame-ass farm, anyway?
Garrison: Because, Kyle, lame-ass farms are suppose to be very educational. Every third-grade class in America has to go to one. And, what's wrong with your voice? You sound like Michael Jackson on crack.
Kyle (scratchy voice): I woke up this morning with a sore throat. It really hurts.
Garrison: Well, if it hurts that much, Kyle, you should probably go let Nurse Gollum take a look at it.
Kyle (scratchy voice): Do I still have to go on the field trip?
Garrison: No, Kyle. If you're sick, you don't need to be breathing all that healthy, fresh, country air.
Stan: I have a sore throat.
Kenny: {Me, too!}
(Cartman fake-coughs a couple of times.)
Cartman: My throat is so sore, it makes Monica Lewinsky's backside...feel like CoolWhip.
Garrison: Sorry, kids. Everyone else has to go.
Kenny (to himself): {Fuck!}
(Later, Kyle is in the nurse's office. Nurse Gollum is looking into his mouth with a little flashlight. Her head is really close to his and the dead fetus sticking out of it jiggles and comes close to brushing up against him whenever she moves. He starts freaking out.)
Kyle (scratchy voice): Uh, Nurse Gollum? Could you just back up a little, please?
Gollum: Okay, but try not to talk too much, Kyle. You'll just aggravate your throat.
(She backs up a total of one inch, then comes two inches closer.)
Kyle: Aaaa!!!
(He grabs his throat in pain.)
Gollum: Kyle, didn't I...
Kyle (scratchy voice): Sorry, but that thing on your head is really freaking me out!
Gollum: What thing? Oh.
(She reaches up and gently touches the fetus.)
Gollum: I'm sorry, I usually just forget that it's there. I'll try to be more careful.
(She goes over to the medical counter and puts the flashlight away.)
Gollum: I think I'm going to send you home for a few days, Kyle. Your throat looks pretty bad and you probably shouldn't be around the other children, right now.
Kyle (looking down): Oh.
Gollum: You might want to have a doctor look at it, too. I'll let your mom know to make an appointment when I call her to come pick you up. There's a new Jewish pediatrician who just opened his practice on the south side. Maybe, I'll mention it to her.
Kyle (scratchy voice): Okay.
(In front of the school, Garrison's class is boarding the bus. Stan, Cartman and Kenny are the last ones to get on. They take their seats.)
Cartman (glaring): Man, this sucks! I don't want to go to some hippie-ass farm with a bunch of smelly cows everywhere you look!
Stan: Yeah, we know, Cartman. You might as well just shut the hell up about it, though, because there's nothing we can do about it, and I am NOT going to listen to you complain all the way there!
(Cartman looks around.)
Cartman: Hey, guys? If you don't want to go to that [bleep]ing farm, follow me.
(Cartman goes to the back of the bus, opens the emergency door and jumps out. Stan and Kenny look at each other, then follow him. Kenny closes the door behind him.)
Kenny (overjoyed): {WOO-HOO!!!}
Stan: Great idea, Cartman! Maybe, you're not such a totally useless fatass, after all.
Cartman: Why, thank you, Stan. I do have my moments.
(The bus leaves.)
Kenny (pausing): {WOO-HOO!}
(They start walking off. Time passes. Elsewhere, Sheila and Kyle are at the doctor's office. Doctor Feltman is looking down Kyle's throat with a tongue depressor.)
Sheila: Thank you for seeing him on such short notice, Doctor Feltman. I must say, it's about time we got another Jewish family in this town. I'm very much looking forward to meeting your wife.
Feltman: Thank you, but I'm not married. I prefer to live alone.
Sheila: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Doctor. No biggie, to each his own, that's what I always say. You have a nice womanfriend, somewhere, though, right?
Feltman: No, I'm afraid not.
Sheila: Well, you probably haven't had time to meet anyone, yet. We'll just have to see what we can do about that, now, won't we?
Feltman: Really, you shouldn't trouble yourself.
Sheila: No trouble at all, I'm happy to do it. Besides, if we Hebrews can't help each other out, then what good are we?
Feltman: I see your point. Well, it looks like your son has strep throat, Mrs. Broslovski.
Sheila: Oh, God. I was afraid of that.
Feltman: Yes, I'll need to take a culture to make sure, though. Let me just scrape a sample off of the back of his throat, here.
(He pushes the tongue depressor deeper into Kyle's mouth. Kyle starts gagging on it and tries to push the doctor's hand away.)
Feltman: Now, son, you don't want to be doing that.
(Kyle continues to gag and push.)
Sheila: Now, boobaloo, let's let the doctor do his job.
(Kyle starts squirming and tries to get up. Feltman has to struggle to keep him down.)
Sheila: Would you like me to hold him, Doctor? He can be a handful when he wants to be.
Feltman: No, no, that's all right. I'm quite enjoying this.
Sheila (pausing): I'm afraid I don't understand, Doctor Feltman. Enjoying what, exactly?
Feltman: Oh, uh, nothing, Mrs. Broslovski. Why don't you hold him down for me?
(Sheila eyes Feltman suspiciously, then pulls Kyle's hands away and holds him down. Kyle gags, coughs and starts turning purple.)
Feltman: All righty, here we go. And a scrape, scrape, scrape and we're done.
(He pulls the tongue depressor out. Kyle coughs violently and starts panting and wheezing.)
Feltman: Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?
Kyle (shouting, sounding like a frog): You...
(He grabs his neck and winces as a sharp pain hits him and his throat suddenly feels like it's on fire.)
Feltman: Yeah, well, it might be a good idea if you didn't talk, for a while, son. You need to give your throat a chance to heal itself. I'll prescribe some antibiotics for you to take. In the meantime, you can use this pad and pencil to write down what you want to say.
(Kyle takes the pad and pencil, writes something, then shows it to him. It reads: "In the meantime, you can go to hell".)
Feltman: Well, I'm afraid I can't help you, there. Mrs. Broslovski, someone will call you in a few days when I get the test results back. Meanwhile, make sure he only eats soft foods and drinks plenty of liquids. Be sure he gets plenty of bed rest, too. I'd like to see him, again, in about a week. You can make the appointment at the front desk.
Sheila: We'll see, Doctor. Come on, booby. Put your coat on and let's go.
(Elsewhere, the bus arrives at the farm and pulls up next to a barn. Miss Crabtree opens the door and Garrison steps out, followed by the school kids.)
Garrison: Okay, everybody, watch your step. There's bound to be a lot of doo-doo on the ground.
Jeeves (British accent, wearing a tuxedo): We prefer the term "natural fertilizer", Sir.
Garrison: Oh, hi. I didn't see you standing there.
(The last of the kids gets off the bus.)
Jeeves (snootily): Yes, Sir. If you would care to accompany me, the Master is expecting you.
Garrison: Well, first, who the hell are you?
Jeeves: Oh, my apologies, Sir. My name is Jeeves. I am the Head Butler of the estate.
Garrison (pausing): Head Butler?
Jeeves: Yes, Sir.
Garrison: Of a farm?
Jeeves: Of the estate, yes.
Garrison (pausing): Well, Jeeves, exactly how many butlers are there here?
Jeeves: Counting myself, there are currently seven in the Master's employ.
Clyde (singing): E-I-E-I-O.
Garrison (pausing): Did Mister Mackey put you up to this?
Jeeves: Mister who, Sir?
Garrison: No, not Mister Hoosier, Mister Mackey.
Jeeves (pausing): I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with the gentleman in question. Please, Sir, the Master is waiting.
Pip: Mister Garrison, Sir?
Garrison: Okay, everybody! Stop calling me "sir"! It's getting annoying! What do you want, Pip?
Pip: Oh. Well, I'm probably going to get a terrible thrashing for telling you this, but not all of our class is here.
Garrison: I know, Pip! Token and Craig didn't have their permission slips, so they had to stay behind.
Pip: Well, yes, but, additionally, Stan, Eric and Kenny used the emergency exit to get off the bus shortly before we left. I just felt it was important for you to know that.
Garrison (pausing): God dammit! Why the hell didn't you tell me that, earlier, Pip?!
Pip (looking down): Well, I don't really know.
Jeeves: Mister Garrison, the Master is not a patient man.
Garrison: Fine! Fine! Let's go see the stupid Master!
Jeeves: Very good, Sir. This way.
(They follow Jeeves to just inside the barn, then stop.)
Jeeves: Please wait here while I announce you.
(He continues onward, into the barn.)
Jeeves (stopping): Uh, Mister Garrison and company from South Park Elementary to see you, Master Zeek.
Zeek (in coveralls, milking a cow): Whut the hell do they want?
Jeeves: I believe you are to give them a guided tour of the facility, Sir.
Zeek (pausing): That today?
Jeeves: Yes, I'm afraid so.
Zeek (sighing): Damn, I've got too much [bleep]ing stuff to do today for this [bleep]!
Jeeves: Shall I dispose of them, Sir?
Zeek (pausing): Wait. Building four still needs a good cleaning, right?
Jeeves: I believe so.
Zeek: Well, send them over there and put them to work. Tell them it's a hands-on activity, or something like that. No sense wasting good muscle.
Jeeves: Very good, Sir.
(Later, Sheila is at the Marsh's house, sitting at the dining room table, having coffee with Sharon and Randy.)
Sharon: Well, I think it's a good idea.
Randy: You would.
Sharon: And what is that suppose to mean, Randy?! Don't you think Shelley and Stanley could use a little forced religion in their lives?!
Randy: I just think they get enough of that stuff crammed up their asses every Sunday. They don't need to be subjected to it Monday through Friday, too!
Sharon: For your information, Randy, the last time they were actually in church, their biggest problem was diaper rash!
Randy: Yeah, but they watch television, don't they?
Sheila: You know, I wasn't going to say anything, hon', but, there's a new pediatrician in town and I think HE'S a pervert.
(Silence.)
Sharon: I see, and what makes you say that?
Sheila: Well, it's just the way he was manhandling my little Kyle when I took him in to get his throat looked at, today.
Randy: Uh, you do know that doctors have to touch their patients, don't you?
Sheila: What? Do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck and started growing mold out of my ears?! Of course, I know that, you idiot!
Sharon: Now, Sheila, I'm sure there's another explanation. The pediatrician is probably a very nice man.
Sheila: Yeah, very nice. That's why he said he was enjoying it when he was trying to restrain my boy!
Randy (pausing): He actually said that?
Sheila: Yes, sir, as sure as I'm sitting here.
Randy: Oh. Well, that's pretty bad, then.
Sharon: Well, you know how old people can get. Maybe he was just kidding around.
Sheila: He looks like he's twenty-five, hon'.
Sharon (pausing): Twenty-five, or not, I simply refuse to believe that anyone like that is living in this town.
Randy: Why?
Sheila: You know what I think we should do? I think we should set up some kind of trap. It's the only way we're going to know, for sure. Maybe, we could all make appointments for our kids to see him and see if he tries anything.
Sharon (pausing): Somehow, deliberately sending our children into the arms of a potential child molester doesn't really seem like a very good idea, Sheila.
Sheila: Well, it's not like we're not going to be RIGHT THERE.
Sharon: What if it doesn't work because we are right there? He probably won't try anything if we're in the same room with him.
Randy: Yeah, pervs are like that.
Sheila: Well, I guess we'll just have to stay in the waiting area, then. The kids can always give us a shout if anything happens.
Randy: Unless he drugs them or gags them, or something.
(Sheila gives him a stern look.)
Randy (shrugging): What? I'm just saying.
Sheila: Anyway, Sharon, I'll call the other parents and see if I can't get them to join us on this.
Randy: What about the McCormicks? I don't think they have a phone.
Sheila: Oh, dear. I guess I'll have to go over there, then.
Sharon: Well, personally, I don't think the other parents are going to go for it. It's just too dangerous.
Sheila: It's the only way, hon'.
(Back on the farm, Garrison's class is busy cleaning up the inside of another barn. Tweek screams as he falls off the hayloft behind Garrison.)
Garrison (covered in cow manure): Mister Hat, I'm starting to think we've been had. This isn't nearly as much fun as that butler guy said it would be.
(Bebe walks by, rubbing her eyes.)
Bebe: My eyes are burning.
(At the Broslovski house, Kyle is sitting up in his bed, ringing the hell out of a little bell. Gerald, eventually, comes rushing in.)
Gerald: What, Kyle?! What do you want?! I'm on the phone with a client!
(Kyle holds up his pad. It reads "ASPIRIN".)
Gerald: Well, do you have a headache, or something?
(He hits the pad against the bed a few times, then holds it up again.)
Gerald: Okay, okay, I'll get you some aspirin as soon as I'm finished!
(He turns to leave. Kyle throws the bell at him and hits him in the head with it.)
Gerald (turning to face him): Hey, ow! That hurt, Kyle!
Kyle (froggy voice): Now!
Gerald: You better watch that temper, young man! Now, I told you...
(Kyle's alarm clock suddenly hits Gerald in the head.)
Gerald: Ow! All right, already! I'll get your damn aspirin, just stop throwing things at me!
(Ike appears in the doorway. Gerald trips over him and crashes to the floor.)
Gerald: AAAAAAA!!!
Ike: Bubba, Bubba.
(At Cartman's house, Cartman, Kenny and Stan are sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating. Mrs. Cartman enters, carrying a tray with three bowls of something brown on it.)
Mrs. Cartman: Would you boys care for some chocolate pudding?
Stan: Hey, yeah!
Cartman: Ma, what the hell is it with you and pudding?
Mrs. Cartman: Why, hon'? Don't you like momma's pudding, anymore?
Cartman: Yeah, sure I do, ma, but this is, like, the fifth time this week I've had to eat it. How come you're making so much of it, all of a sudden?
Mrs. Cartman: Well, hon', I'm afraid you just wouldn't understand. Let's just say I have a lot of free time on my hands, right now, okay?
Cartman: Yeah, ma, whatever.
(She passes out the pudding and leaves. After a few seconds, Kenny starts laughing his ass off and falls off the couch. Stan and Cartman look at him.)
Cartman (pausing): What, Kenny?! What?!
(Later, Sheila is standing at the front door of Mrs. McCormick's rat-infested home, talking to her.)
Mrs. McCormick (drunk off her ass): No, I'm sorry. I can't allow my Kevin or Kenny to do something like that, even if it is for the public good.
Sheila: I understand how you feel, Mrs. McCormick. I feel the same way, but if we let this person stay here and he does turn out to be someone who likes doing the hokey-pokey with little kids, then we're putting everyone's child at risk. I just thought you...
Mrs. McCormick: I KNOW what you thought, you [bleep]ing rich bitch! You thought, because we're so [bleep]ing poor, we'd just send our boys off to the porno ring and do whatever you tell us to do, just because you offer us money! Well, let me tell you something, Missy! We don't have much in this life, but we do have a little something called family pride, maybe not much of it, but it's there, all the same. There ain't nothing you can do to make us give that up! Now, get off my property before I call the cops!
Sheila: Mrs. McCormick, I haven't offered you any money! I was hoping...
Mrs. McCormick: Yeah, I noticed that, too!
(They stare at each other for a few seconds, then Sheila digs around in her purse and pulls out some money.)
Sheila (glaring): Is fifty dollars enough?!
Mrs. McCormick (taking it from her): When do you want them?
Sheila: I don't know, yet. I'll have to get back to you on that. It'll probably be in a day or two.
Mrs. McCormick: Well, we'll be here. It's not like we can go anywhere, or nothing like that.
Sheila: Well, I'll see you in a couple of days, then.
Mrs. McCormick: Fine, bye.
(She slams the door in her face. Elsewhere, on the road, Garrison and his class are on their way back to the school. Everyone, except Miss Crabtree, is covered in cow manure and hay.)
Garrison: Okay, children, what did we learn today?
Wendy: We learned that we should really appreciate the hard work and long hours that farmers...
Garrison: No, Wendy! We learned that farms suck ass, people who work on farms suck ass and the whole farming community just really sucks ass! That's what we learned, Wendy, not some stupid goodie-two-shoes crap!
Wendy: Mister Garrison, just because you had a bad experience on a farm, that's no reason to condemn the whole...
Garrison: Oh, Wendy, just shut the [bleep] up!!!
Crabtree (pausing): Y'all smell like y'all've been building castles in a pile of [bleep] all day! Why the hell didn't you wash yourselves off before getting back on the bus?!
(There's a long pause.)
Garrison: Miss Crabtree?
Crabtree: What?
Garrison: Just drive the stupid bus, okay?
(The bus drives on. The next day, Stan, Cartman, Kenny, Sharon and Sheila are sitting in Feltman's waiting room.)
Stan: I still don't understand why I'm here. I mean, I'm not sick, or anything.
Cartman: Yeah, and why the hell are we all here, together, on the same day?
Sharon: It's just a routine check-up, Stanley. There's no cause for concern.
Stan: Well, where's Kyle? Shouldn't he be here, too?
Sheila: His appointment isn't until Friday, Stan. I'm just waiting to see if everything's going to work out today, so I'll know whether or not to cancel it.
Stan: Oh. Well, why wouldn't everything work out?
(Kevin comes out of the examination room.)
Kevin: Hey, that was fun, you guys!
Sheila: So, how did it go, hon'? Did he do anything he wasn't suppose to?
(Stan looks at Sheila.)
Kevin: No, ma'am. I just took off my clothes and he checked over my body.
Sharon: Oh. That's not too bad. Maybe, you were wrong about him, Sheila.
Sheila: I suppose so. I mean, they do make you take off your clothes when they examine you.
Kevin: Yeah, then we wrestled and I got his head in a leg lock and I wouldn't let him up 'til he begged me to! It took a long time, too! It was fun!
Sharon (pausing): I admit, that is a little unusual.
Cartman: Hey! Maybe, he'll wrestle with us!
Stan: Yeah, dude! That'd be cool!
Kenny: {WOO-HOO!}
Sheila: Boys, I'm afraid we haven't been very honest with you about Doctor Feltman.
Stan: What do you mean?
Sharon: We think Doctor Feltman might be...well...just not a very nice person.
Cartman: I don't know, he sounds pretty freaking cool to me.
Sheila: What we're trying to tell you boys is that we think he might be one of those nasty people who likes to...well...PLAY...with little boys.
Kenny: {Cool!}
Kevin: Yeah, it was fun!
Sharon: Boys, when we say "play", we don't mean it in a good way, all right?
(They stare at her for a few seconds.)
Kenny: {You mean he likes to hold dicks and pretend he's an enema?}
Sharon (pausing): Well, I wouldn't exactly put it like that...
Sheila: But, yes, Kenny, I'm afraid that's pretty much the gist of it.
Stan: That son of a bitch! What the [bleep] did you bring us here for, mom?!?!
Sharon: Stanley, watch your mouth! Now, we're not a hundred percent sure he's like that!
Stan: Oh, so you brought us here to find out?! God damn, mom! I thought you loved me!
Sharon: I do love you, Stanley, but you have to understand...
Stan: I don't have to understand anything! If you really loved me, you wouldn't have tried to get me molested! Come on, guys! Let's go!
(The guys get up and start to leave. Kevin stays behind.)
Sharon: Stanley, where the hell do you think you're going?!
Stan: Away from YOU!!!
(He stops at the door.)
Stan: We'll be in the car.
(They leave.)
Sheila (pausing): Well, that went well.
Sharon: Well, thank you so [bleep]ing much for making my son hate me, Sheila! If I can ever return the favor, please let me know!
Kevin (glaring): I'll be right back.
(He goes back into the examination room.)
Sheila: Like this was my fault? You didn't have to agree to this, you know.
Sharon: Forgive me for listening to someone who I THOUGHT was a friend!
Feltman's Voice: Wha--? Ooooooffff!!!
(A loud crash comes from the examination room.)
Sheila: So, my little plans don't always work out the way they should! I'm not perfect, so sue me!
(Kevin comes out of the room, holding his fist and smiling.)
Sharon: I suppose it's just as much my fault as it is yours. I never should've agreed to it in the first place. Let's go.
(They leave. Feltman steps out of his office with torn clothes and the remains of a lamp shade over his head.)
Feltman: Are they gone?
Receptionist: Yep, they just left.
Feltman: Well, why don't you go on home, Nancy? I think I'm going to close up early, today.
Receptionist: Oh, don't you feel well, Doctor?
Feltman: A little TOO well, actually. You go ahead and take the rest of the day off. I've got something I need to do.
Receptionist: I understand.
(That night, Stan, Cartman and Kenny are camping out in a wooded area near Stan's house. They're sitting around a fire.)
Cartman: I can not believe that my mom would put me in that sort of situation!
Stan: Yeah, parents can be real dicks, sometimes.
Cartman: I mean, what the hell did she expect me to do? Dance around naked for him while he stuffed twenty-dollar bills down my underwear?!
Stan: Well, I'm not sleeping in the same house with mine for a few days. Who knows what kind of weird stuff they might try next?
Kenny: {Yeah, dude. They're all a bunch of fucking assholes, anyway.}
Stan: Yeah, I know.
(A few seconds go by.)
Stan: Well, I guess we better get some sleep, you guys. We've gotta go back to school, tomorrow.
(They get up and get into their sleeping bags.)
Cartman: Hey, guys? Why don't we just not go to school, anymore? I don't like being stuck in a room with that psycho Mister Garrison six hours a day, anyway.
Stan: Cartman, we have to go to school. It's the law.
Cartman: Well, some things are more important than the law, Stan, like the freedom to do what we want to do, when we want to do it, like taking charge of your life and controlling your own destiny, like...
Stan: Cartman, I'll kick your ass if you don't shut the hell up and go to sleep!
Cartman: Well, Stan, you always say that, but we both know you couldn't kick my ass if your life depended on it, so you should probably stop saying you're going to kick my ass before you end up making me mad.
Stan (pausing, sternly): You don't wanna try me, right now, Cartman.
Cartman: All right, Stan, whatever you say. I didn't mean to make the little wussy wuss cry.
(Stan gets up, goes over to Cartman and beats the crap out of him.)
Cartman: OW!!! God dammit!!! What the [bleep] are you doing?!?!
Stan: Teaching you a lesson, fatass!!!
Cartman: Well...OW!!! GOD DAMMIT, STOP IT!!! I was just joking around!!!
Kenny (wide-eyed, looking up): {Uh, guys?}
Stan: I warned you not to mess with me, tonight, Cartman!!!
Kenny: {Guys?}
Cartman: God dammit, Stan! OW!!! I didn't think you'd actually DO anything!
Kenny: {GUYS!!!}
Stan (turning to Kenny): WHAT?!
Feltman (naked as a jaybird): Hi, there!
(The guys gasp.)
Cartman (pausing): Oh...my god.
Feltman: I just want you boys to know that I don't normally do this right away. I usually like to stalk a little, first, and spend a few nights performing ancient rituals involving dancing, blood sacrifice and fondling myself periodically. It's just that, well, I've been really horny all day.
Kenny (pausing): {We can see that.}
(Silence fills the air.)
Cartman (getting up): Well. It certainly has been a pleasure talking to you like this, Doctor Feltman. You are Doctor Feltman, right?
Feltman: Yes, that's correct.
Cartman: Yes, well...
Stan: We have to run away, now.
Feltman: Well, I'm afraid I can't let you go, boys. If I did that, you would tell people about me and I'll either have to move to another town, or I'll end up in prison. So, you see, the only solution is for me to have my way with you and, then, kill you, making sure no one ever finds the bodies.
Stan (pointing at him): You'll never get away with this, Feltman!
Feltman: Oh, really? And why not?
Stan (pausing): Well, I don't know. They just always say stuff like that in the movies.
Feltman: Well, this isn't the movies, kid. This is real life. Come here.
(He grabs Stan and picks him up.)
Stan: LET ME GO, YOU [bleep]ING ASSHOLE!!!
Feltman: Ooooh, feisty! I like that!
(Kenny grabs a burning ember from the fire and throws it at Feltman, hitting him in the nuts.)
Feltman (dropping Stan): AIYYOWWWW!!!
(The guys run away and head for Stan's house with Feltman chasing after them. They reach it and go inside. Feltman stops as he enters the front yard.)
Stan: Mom! Doctor Feltman's trying to have sex with us!
Sharon: Oh, my god! Stanley, are you okay?!
Stan: Yeah, mom, but he's right behind us!
(Outside, Feltman is standing in the yard, watching the house, when Officer Barbrady drives by.)
Barbrady: Uh-Oh, nudie on the loose.
(He pulls over, gets out of his patrol car and walks towards Feltman.)
Feltman (seeing Barbrady): Oh, [bleep]!!!
(He tries to run away, but Barbrady catches up with him and tackles him. Feltman falls to the ground, landing on top of a conveniently-placed bear trap, which snaps shut and gives him the ultimate circumcision.)
Feltman: AAAAIIIIIIIIYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!
Guys (watching from the window): Hooray!
Barbrady: That'll teach you not to go around without any clothes on, you dumb nudie.
(Sharon and Randy come rushing up to him.)
Sharon: Officer Barbrady, arrest that man! He just tried to molest our boy!
Barbrady: Oh. Well, that explains it, then.
(He handcuffs Feltman, pulls him up, off the bear trap and hauls him away. Sharon and Randy return to the house. Sparky comes along, picks the severed penis up and trots away, happy.)
Stan: Mom, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I guess I should've listened to what you were trying to tell me.
Sharon: No, Stan. I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't have any business using you like I did. And I do love you. I always will. I just hope you can forgive me, someday.
Stan: Well, can I stay home from school, tomorrow?
Sharon: No, Stanley.
(He glares at her.)
Sharon: You can stay home the rest of the week.
Stan (smiling): You're forgiven.
(He turns and points at Cartman.)
Stan: In your face, Cartman!
(A meteorite suddenly falls out of the sky, crashes through the roof of the house and clobbers Kenny.)
Stan: Oh, my god! They killed Kenny!
(Several seconds go by. The telephone rings.)
Stan (answering it): Hello?...Yeah, hi...Okay, hold on.
(He lowers the receiver.)
Stan: Kyle says [raises his fist] you bastards.
(He brings the receiver back up to his ear.)
Stan: What?...Dude, I'm not gonna SCREAM it!...Okay, bye.
(He hangs up. Randy looks into the hole in the floor where Kenny was.)
Randy: Wow, what are the odds of that?

THE END