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Threadbare South Park
Episode #6: Fall of the House of Pierzynski
(TSP Season 1 Episode 6)
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NOTE: This piece is written in the form of a script. It contains naughty language. Mr. Garrison speaks for Mr. Hat. Kenny's lines are parenthesized to indicate that they are muffled. This story takes place when the kids are in the third grade.
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ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS EPISODE-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. ALL CANON CHARACTERS' LINES ARE WRITTEN BY THREADBARE...POORLY. THE FOLLOWING SCRIPT CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.
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The third grade students are standing around and talking in the classroom when the bell rings for school to start. Many of the kids are dressed up in suits, scrubs, etc. Mr. Garrison enters the room.

Mr. Garrison: Alright, children, let's settle down now. Take your seats. [The kids disperse and sit down in their seats.] Now, I hope you've all been working hard on your Career Projects, because we're going to start presenting them today.

Kyle (whispering to Stan): I'm gonna be a detective!

Stan (whispering to Kyle): I'm gonna be a marine biologist!

Cartman (snickering): You two are total fags.

Mr. Garrison: Now, who would like to volunteer to go first? [Clyde raises his hand.] Okay, Clyde, why don't you get us started?

Clyde wears a tuxedo and has his hair slicked back. He walks up to the front of the class and begins to read off of a sheet of paper.

Clyde (sounding choppy, since he's reading directly off the sheet): When I grow up, I will be a politician. I will help make laws to make America a better place. I will make meatloaf illegal and on Fridays, I will give everyone free ice cream. I will… also make a law to prevent animal shelters from putting puppies to sleep. Puppies are cute and cuddly. I do not want them to die.

Mr. Garrison: Gosh, Clyde, what are you going to do with all those stray dogs?

Clyde stares at Mr. Garrison for a moment, looking clueless about what to say next. Eventually, he just continues reading.

Clyde: I will make our economy better. I will make taxes lower and give money to the poor.

Mr. Garrison: How exactly do you expect that to work?

Mr. Hat: Yeah, it sounds like you have a pretty weak understanding of economics, Clyde.

Clyde glances at Mr. Hat then back at his paper a few times before continuing.

Clyde (looking nervous): …Most of all, I want to be a politician because I want to help my local community. I will build parks and plant trees. I will build schools and roads and libraries, and everyone will love me. The end.

The class claps politely. Mr. Garrison writes down some notes on the presentation.

Mr. Garrison: God help the district that elects you, Clyde Donovan. Who's up next? How about Charlie?

Charlie eagerly hops out of her seat. She wears hiking boots, brown pants, a brown leather jacket, and an old-fashioned pilot's cap and goggles. She goes up to the front of the classroom, holding onto a rolled-up poster.

Charlie: When I grow up, I am going to be an airline pilot.

Cartman (looking dubious): Seriously?

Charlie: I'll be in charge of taking off, manning the plane, keeping an eye on the plane and the weather, and landing.

Mr. Garrison: That's very cute, Charlie, but unless you want to end up a failure like Clyde, you're going to have to give more detail than that.

Charlie: Okay.

She unrolls the poster. Inside is a detailed sketch of the interior of an airplane. The poster is titled "Boeing 787 Dreamliner." She sets it on the ledge of the chalkboard and points to the various aspects of the design with a collapsible metal pointer as she describes them.

Charlie: This is the design of my favorite model of airplane, the Boeing 787 "Dreamliner." It is a brand new model: its first commercial flight was just this October, there are only eleven of them in use! It is a long-range, mid-size, wide-body, twin-engine jet airliner developed by the Boeing Commercial Airplanes company. It can seat from 210 to 290 passengers, and it's the company's most fuel-efficient jet; it uses 20% less fuel than the Boeing 767, which is about the same size. It's got a four-panel windshield, noise-reducing technology on the engines, and a smoother nose contour. People: this [she points at the picture] is the future of long-distance air travel.

Cartman (yawning): That sounds lame.

Charlie: Does not!

Stan: Don't worry, Charlie. Cartman's just mad because he's too fat to be a pilot. He's so heavy he'd crash the plane.

A few students snicker.

Cartman: Hey! I'm not fat!

Mr. Garrison: Shut up, Eric! We've got a lot of these things to get through! [To Charlie] Let's wrap this thing up, Charlotte.

Charlie: In conclusion, I am going to be a pilot when I grow up because I'll get to go to all sorts of exciting places and use a Boeing 787. And I'll get to fly thousands of feet off the ground at high speeds in a giant hunk of steel and live. The end.

Charlie goes back to her seat. Cartman rolls his eyes and looks over at her.

Cartman: That was pretty embarrassing, kiddo. You're so butch, I think I can actually see a bulge down there.

Charlie glares at him but doesn't say anything.

Mr. Hat: Well, why don't you do your presentation next then, Eric, if you're gonna be a bitchy little smartass.

Mr. Garrison: That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Hat.

Cartman: Fine. I will.

Cartman walks up to the front of the room. He folds his hands behind his back and speaks in an unusually sweet tone.

Cartman: When I grow up, I am going to have the most wonderful, the most satisfying, the most AWESOME career ever. I… am going to be a chef. [The kids in the class start to snigger. Cartman's self-satisfied smirk turns into a glare.] Hey! Don't you assholes laugh at me!

Mr. Garrison: You watch your goddamn mouth, Eric, or I'm taking your ass to the principal's office!

Cartman (whining): But Mr. Garrison! They're being disrespectful while I'm trying to give my presentation!

Mr. Garrison: Oh, please. Don't give me any of that whiny baby bull crap.

Craig: Yeah, and being a chef is totally gay.

Cartman: I don't think anybody asked for your opinion, CRAIG! Now if I may continue… [He clears his throat.] I want to be a chef because I will be able to share my delicious creations and my love of food with the world. But mostly, I'll just eat.

Kyle: Yeah, like you need to spend any more time around food.

Cartman (glaring): You know what? Screw you guys! If you don't want to sample my caramel brownies, then I guess that's just more for me!

The other students stop snickering and lean forward in their seats.

Clyde: Did you say caramel brownies?

Cartman goes to his desk and pulls out a plate of wrapped-up brownies.

Cartman (in a sugary-sweet voice): Yes, Clyde, I did say "caramel brownies." I made them myself to share with the class. [His voice returns to normal.] But since they're being ASSHOLES, I guess I'll just eat them myself!

Mr. Garrison (eyeing the brownies hungrily): Eric Cartman, you share your brownies with the class right now, young man!

Cartman: No!

Mr. Garrison (growling): Eric…

Cartman: Fine!

Cartman begins to distribute the brownies, giving one to each child—except for Kyle, whose desk he passes.

Kyle: Hey! You skipped me, fatass!

Cartman: Uh-huh.

Kyle: Give me a brownie, Cartman!

Cartman: [Finishes distributing the rest of the brownies] Fine fine—oh. Uh-oh…

Kyle: What is it?

Cartman (with feigned concern): Oh, wait a minute. Mr. Garrison, I forgot to make sure that I used kosher margarine…

Kyle: Wh—Huh?

Cartman (with the same pretend sympathy): Yeah. I guess that means Kyle can't eat them, huh? [He takes away Kyle's brownie.] Sorry Kyle. What a bummer.

Charlie: Whoa, you can't eat that 'cause of your religion? Being Jewish must suck!

Kyle: No it doesn't!

Stan takes a bite of his brownie.

Stan: Whoa… these are actually really good! Kyle, you have no idea what you're missing!

As the kids (minus Kyle) begin to eat their brownies, a student enters the room and hands Mr. Garrison a note. Mr. Garrison reads it as the kid hurries away.

Mr. Garrison: Uh… [Looking up] Charlie, you're going to have to go down to Mr. Mackey's office for a talk.

Charlie, about to take her first bite of brownie, puts the treat down and looks up, concerned.

Charlie: Huh? What'd I do?

Mr. Garrison: Nothing. But it's Mr. Mackey's job to talk with students with emotional problems, to help them sort out their feelings or some bull-crap like that.

Charlie stares at Mr. Garrison, looking quite unhappy with this turn of events, and Cartman lets out a shout of glee.

Cartman: Whoa-ho! Looks like Charlie's one of the weird kids!

Charlie: Nuh-uh! I am not!

Cartman: Yeah-huh! Only the weird kids get called to the guidance counselor to talk about their feelings.

Charlie glances over at Stan and Kyle, who nod and shrug in affirmation.

Stan: He's right.

Mr. Garrison: Hurry up, Charlotte, I've got a class of normal kids to teach.

Timmy (randomly, from the corner of the room): TIMMEH!

Charlie sighs and walks from the room, brownie uneaten. Clyde stares at it for a few seconds before grabbing it from her desk.
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Charlie walks down the hallway toward the counselor's office. As she approaches the doorway, she slows down, hesitates, and finally raises her first to knock. At that same moment, the door swings open, and she finds herself face-to-face with an angry-looking black-haired boy with thick eyebrows. Charlie yelps and jumps back in surprise. The boy doesn't react at all. Mr. Mackey walks up behind him.

Mr. Mackey: Now, I want you to think about some of those anger management strategies we talked about, Damien, m'kay?

Damien: Deep breathing and Pilates to tame the beast within!

Mr. Mackey: Exactly! I'll see you next week, m'kay?

Damien walks away, not acknowledging Charlie, who still stands in a substrate position a few feet from the doorway. Her shoulders are hunched, and she rubs her hands together below her chin.

Mr. Mackey (looking at a clipboard): M'kay… You are… Charlie Pierzynski… [Sudden look of recognition] Oh, Charlie Pierzynski! You're the little abused girl, m'kay? We've talked before.

Charlie: Y-yeah.

Mr. Mackey: M'kay! [He steps out of the way of the entrance.] Why don't you come in and sit down so we can get to know each other a little better, m'kay?

Still rubbing her hands together, Charlie enters the office and sits down on the couch. Mr. Mackey sits in a chair across from her, pen poised above a clipboard with notepaper.

Mr. Mackey: M'kay... Now, do you prefer Charlie or Charlotte?

Charlie: Uh... I...don't really care, but my name's Charlie.

Mr. Mackey: M'kay... But your full name is Charlotte.

Charlie: Naw, it's... it's just Charlie. Charlie May Pierzynski.

Mr. Mackey: ...M'...Is that a family name, or-?

Charlie wears an expression of mixed aggravation and wistfulness.

Charlie: It's my mom's fault.
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Flashback:

Jane Pierzynski is in the hospital in a gown, moaning through labor pains. Joe Pierzynski sits nearby, smoking a cigarette and flipping through a guitar magazine. Jane is flanked by a doctor and a nurse.

Doctor: You're doing great, Miss Williams.

Jane (whilst groaning): It's Mrs. Pierzynski now, Doc! Me and Joe went and got married! [Groans loudly; the doctor peers under her gown.] We're gonna start a family!

Doctor: That's very cute that you think that. Oh, look! It's crowning!

Nurse: Give us another good push, Jane!

Jane lets out a final loud moan and the doctor reveals a crying baby moments later.

Doctor: Congratulations, Jane! It's a girl!

Jane (breathing heavily): A girl...

Nurse: Oh, do you have a name in mind?

Jane: Well, I do like the name Charlotte... But see, I've been thinking lately; wouldn't it be just precious if she was called Charlie?

Doctor: ...As a nickname, or...?

Jane: As a real name! I think I'm gonna do it! It'd be so cute and funny! What do you think, Joe?

Joe glances up from his magazine.

Joe: It's your kid, you call it what you want.

Jane: Then Charlie it is. Charlie May Pierzynski... So cute and funny...

End flashback.
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Charlie: Cute and funny... Mom always said she thought it was cute and funny. [She stares irritably at Mr. Mackey.] I don't think it's cute or funny.

Mr. Mackey: Yeah, that was kind of a bitch move on your mom's part, m'kay.
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Later, the boys are in the lunch line. Charlie stands meekly behind them, staring at the ground. Stan, who is last in line before Charlie, looks over his shoulder at her.

Stan: So what'd you do at Mr. Mackey's office?

Charlie: Oh, I dunno… We talked a lot about my mom and stuff, and he said I should start writing in a diary to help me process my emotions and traumatic memories.

Kenny (from the front of the line): (Diaries are for fags.)

Stan: Yeah, that's pretty gay.

Charlie (a bit nervously): You think so?

Cartman (snickering): Dude, the only thing gayer than writing in a diary is making out with someone of the same gender.

Kyle: You guys shouldn't be such assholes. Maybe having a diary would…I dunno…help her… [At this point, Kyle begins to lose conviction in his own argument.]…process her emotions or something.

The boys and Charlie stare incredulously at Kyle for a few seconds without speaking.

Cartman: …Yeah, don't listen to Kyle, he's a little fag.

Kyle glares.

Stan: You're not really gonna do it though, are you?

Charlie: N-no… No! [She now wears an expression of confident resentment.] Fuck that shit! Diaries are gay!

Stan: Just like cooking!

Cartman's expression immediately changes from one of enthusiasm to irritation.

Cartman: Hey!

The kids (including Charlie) walk up to Chef for their lunches, all chuckling at Cartman's expense. Cartman glowers.

Chef: Hello, children!

Kids: Hey, Chef!

Chef: How's it goin'?

Charlie and Cartman: Bad.

Chef: Why "bad"?

Stan: [Pinches his nose bridge and sighs.] Chef, can the rest of us please just get our food?

Chef: Well okay then…

Chef serves Stan, Kyle, and Kenny their lunches. The three boys exit, evidently not in the mood to listen to Cartman and Charlie's woes.

Chef: Now, tell me, children: what's the matter?

Charlie: Chef, am I kind of messed up?

Chef: …Uh, well, I don't really know, children. You seem alright to me. Why do you think that?

Cartman: Because she's crazy as fuck.

Charlie: I am not!

Cartman: Yes she is. I saw her itching out a wedgie in class, and my mom says only sick people like to rub their privates in public. [Charlie glares at him, but has no retort for this.] Plus, she has to go talk to the guidance counselor about her emotions. And only the messed up kids have to do that. Case [he folds his arms] cloooosed.

Damien, who is next in line for lunch, scoots up on Charlie's other side with his tray, staring straight ahead with a demonic expression. Charlie looks rather frightened of him; Cartman cites him as further evidence.

Cartman: See? See, that kid has to go talk to the guidance counselor too, because he's a fucking lunatic.

Damien: A scourge of hepatitis upon you!

Chef: Children, children…! There ain't no use in generalizin' and stigmatizin' just because some people need a little bit of emotional guidance!

Damien: Enough! Provide me with sustenance, lest I set a scourge of fallen angels upon ye!

Chef gives Damien a confused and disturbed look as he serves the little boy his food. Damien walks away, glowering.

Chef: …That is one messed-up little cracker.

Charlie: Mr. Mackey says that kid 'n me are gonna be in a therapy group together.

Cartman: Heh… Dude… You're gonna fucking die.

Charlie, having had enough of this conversation, glowers as she picks up her tray and walks away, although her expression changes to one of anxiety once she's turned her back to Cartman. Meanwhile, Cartman continues his conversation with Chef.

Chef: And what's been "bad" with you, children?

Cartman: Well, we had our career presentations today, and everybody called me faggy for wanting to be a cook when I grow up.

Chef (outraged): WHAT? Now, listen here, children: there is nothing faggy about bein' a chef.

Cartman: That's what I told them! But they wouldn't listen to logic! They think only girls should cook, but they've got it all wrong! Women should all be in the kitchen, of course, but if a person of the opposite gender wants to occupy that space, it should not be stigmatized!

Chef: That's right, children! Hey, you know, I have an idea! Why don't you come by my house after school this afternoon? We could whip up some delicious crème brulee and discuss what sorts of women we find most attractive!

Cartman: Ew, fuck no. Girls are gross.

Chef: [Sighs.] Well, why don't you come over anyway, just for culinary male-bonding purposes? If you're really interested in being a chef, you're gonna need a male role model.

Cartman: You mean like Gordon Ramsay?

Chef stares at him blankly.

Cartman: OH, oh, I gotcha… Fine, as long as I get cookies or some shit. Thanks, Chef.

Chef: See you this afternoon, children!

Cartman takes his tray and walks away. Chef smiles to himself.

Chef: I'm gonna be… a mentor…
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After school that day, Charlie is sitting in her (Shelly's) room. She sits on her mattress with a schoolbook open and a toy airplane in her hand. She enacts a dramatic flight scene, complete with whooshing and screeching sound effects.

Charlie (as co-pilot): Pierzynski! We're dropping!

Charlie (as herself, the pilot, in a dramatic tone): Damn it, I know we're dropping, Fitzmurphy! For the love of God, stay calm! [She now pretends to get on the intercom, addressing her passengers.] Psstch! Passengers of flight 455! This is your Captain speaking! We are experiencing some mechanical difficulties! Please employ your safety devices immediately!

Charlie (as various passengers, in high-pitched, shrieking voices): Oh no! We're all going to die! My baby!

Charlie (as co-pilot): How the hell are you going to land this thing, Pierzynski?

Charlie (as herself): Damn if I know, Murph. Damn if I know.

Just then, a knock comes at the door. Charlie quickly drops the toy and grabs the schoolbook, pretending to be reading.

Charlie: Come in!

Sharon opens the door and peeks inside.

Sharon: Did I hear somebody playing in here?

Charlie: ….No….

Sharon: Charlie, I thought I told you to study for your history test.

Charlie: [Glumly] Yeah, I know… [She perks up and smiles a bit at Sharon.] Hey! Maybe me and Stan could study together!

Sharon: Stanley is studying at Eric's house with Kyle and Kenny.

We witness a three second clip of Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny playing video games at Cartman's house.

Charlie (a bit hurt): Oh… I didn't get invited, huh?

Sharon enters the room and sits on the edge of Shelly's bed, looking down at Charlie with some sympathy. She's also holding a small plastic shopping bag in her lap.

Sharon: Don't get your feelings hurt, dear. Sometimes boys just want to play with other boys. And those four have been such good friends for a long time.

Charlie (dejectedly): I know… Sometimes I wish I wasn't a lame-ass pussy man-girl.

Sharon: Charlotte!

Charlie: That's what I am though!

Sharon: There's nothing wrong with being a tomboy, dear.

Charlie: But I'm not a tomboy. Not really. I'm not good at sports or video games like a boy. But I'm also not pretty and giggly and...whatever else girls are...like a girl's supposed to be.

Sharon: You're thinking too narrowly, Charlie. Not all girls are the same. Take Shelly, for instance. She isn't pretty or giggly, but she's certainly a girl, isn't she?

Charlie: I guess that's true... [She smiles a bit and looks at Sharon.] Thanks, Mrs. Marsh.

Sharon: No problem at all, dear. [She appears to remember something.] Oh! By the way, I spoke with your counselor Mr. Mackey this afternoon. [Charlie's face falls.] He mentioned wanting you to get a diary to use to process your emotions and traumatic memories, so I got you this.

Sharon opens the plastic bag she'd been holding and removes a thick purple book labelled "My Super Secret Diary XOXO". Sharon smiles as she hands the empty book to Charlie, who stares at it blankly.

Charlie: ...Thanks.

Sharon: No problem, dear. [She stands up and approaches the door of the room.] Maybe you can write in it once you've finished studying for that history test.

Sharon leaves the room and closes the door. Charlie glares down at the diary before chucking it in the corner and picking up her toy airplane again.
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In front of Cartman's house, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny stare irritably at Eric from his front step.

Kyle: Come on, Cartman! You can't just kick us out right before the boss stage!

Cartman: Uh, yeah I can.

Kenny: [The fuck is your problem, cock-sucker?]

Cartman: Shut up Kenny. Screw you guys; go the fuck home.

Cartman slams the door in their faces. The three other boys start walking angrily away from the house.

Kyle: What a douche.

Cartman watches them leave from his window. Once they're a safe distance away, he hurries out of the house and heads in the opposite direction.
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Inside Chef's house, Chef is humming soulfully to himself as he prepares some batter, a cookbook open. He pauses to take a small taste, smiles, and continues humming and stirring. The doorbell rings. Chef sets down the batter and heads to the front room, opening the door for Cartman.

Chef: Hello, children!

Cartman: Hey, Chef.

Chef: Come on in! I was just working on my patent white velvet cake with a sweet cream cheese frosting.

Cartman: Sweeeeeeeet.

Cartman enters the house. Chef leads him to the kitchen, where the bowl of batter sits alongside a bowl of frosting he's still preparing.

Chef: Now, the key to the frosting is to make sure the cheesy flavor is subtle and sweet, but creamy and soft, like the experience of pleasuring a beautiful woman. [Cartman stares at the bowl of batter as Chef talks, his voice somewhat dulled by Cartman's lack of paying attention.] Now the key is to add some sugary cream, vanilla, and milk in with the cream cheese. [He begins adding some ingredients as Cartman continues to stare hungrily at the batter.] Stir it softly…gently….lovingly….[Chef closes his eyes as he seems to drift off to fantasyland.] …like you're caressing the body of a beautiful, sultry woman. You gotta smell that icing, taste that icing…love that icing… Mmmmmmm-mmmm!

Chef opens his eyes again and looks down at Cartman. Cartman is holding the now-empty bowl of batter, remnants of the concoction all around his mouth. Chef simply stares at the boy for several seconds.
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Cartman is shoved out the front door by Chef.

Cartman: Owwwww!

Chef: Now, you can come back once you're serious about learning how to cook! I ain't here to be your babysitter! Now get on back home, children!

Chef slams the door. Cartman whines.

Cartman: Hmph!
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Stan enters his house, sighing. He glowers as he walks up the stairs, muttering about Cartman being a "douchebag", and walks to the door to Shelly's room. Without knocking, he opens the door. Inside, Charlie is holding the diary, a pen to the paper. She stares at him, looking horrified. Stan stares back.

Charlie: …It's not what it looks like.

Stan: "My Super-Secret Diary XOXO."

Charlie is unable to respond. Stan starts to laugh. Charlie glares and throws the book aside, marching out of the room, humiliated. Stan, still giggling, glances over to make sure Charlie is gone before walking over to where the purple diary lies and opening it up.

Diary: Dear Diary; Mr. Mackey and Mrs. Marsh say I should write in you because my emotions are screwy. I don't really know what to write, but I'm going to try anyway. Today I did my career project thingy in school. Cartman said it was really butch that I wanted to be a pilot. But he wanted to be a chef, so he's gay too. But he did bring brownies to school. They looked real good. I didn't even get to eat any of mine though because Mr. Mackey made me go to his office. Then we talked about…

Stan looks up from the diary, apparently no longer interested in what Charlie has written. His mind wanders to the caramel brownies Cartman brought to school that day… They were so good… A mental image of his first bite of brownie replays over and over again in Stan's mind… He closes the diary and walks out of the room, transfixed with thoughts of brownies.
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Cartman enters his house after his meeting with Chef, looking extremely peeved. His mother is sitting on the couch.

Liane: Everything alright, snookums?

Cartman: No, everything is not alright! Chef was a total bully and didn't even let me eat the frosting!

Liane: Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie-poo.

Cartman, whining to himself, starts to walk up the stairs.

Liane: Oh, Eric?

Cartman (snapping): What?

Liane: Quite a few of your little friends stopped by while you were gone.

Cartman: Ugh, next time Kyle comes over, just ignore him, Mom!

Liane: Oh, it wasn't Kyle, sweetums. But a lot of your other little classmates came by. It was kind of strange, really. [She puts a hand to her chin reflectively.] They came one at a time, and they all looked very nervous. One little boy came to the door at least three times. I think he might still be in the bushes, actually.

Cartman glances out the front window and sees Clyde staring into the house, his face pressed against the glass. Clyde attempts to duck out of view once spotted. Cartman, looking both annoyed and baffled, goes out his front door and turns to the left, where Clyde is crouching in the bushes.

Cartman: Clyde, what the fuck?

Clyde: …Hi Cartman.

Cartman: Oh, hey Clyde. Hey. Uh, say, this might come off as a sort of odd question to be asking, but what the fuck are you doing in my bushes?

Clyde: …Nothing. [Cartman stares at him with obvious annoyance.] …Look, Cartman, do you have any more of those brownies?

Cartman: What?

Clyde: You know, the caramel brownies you brought in to school? Do you have any more of them?

Cartman: No. And if I did, shit if I'm sharing them with you asshole.

Clyde leaps up from out of the bushes and onto the front stoop. He grabs a visibly startled Cartman by the front of his coat and shakes him, looking almost panicked.

Clyde: I need more brownies, man! You have to make more brownies!

Cartman frees himself from Clyde's grip, backs through the doorway, slams the door, and locks it. Outside, Clyde bangs on the door with both fists, his voice breaking with desperation and emotion.

Clyde: CARTMAN! I NEED MORE BROWNIES, CARTMAN! CARTMAN!!!

Inside, Cartman and Liane both stare at the door with mixed confusion and fear. Outside, Clyde slides down to his knees and bangs pleadingly at the door with his palms, reduced to tears. Behind him, Stan, Bebe, and Kenny show up, all arriving from different directions. They stare at Clyde sobbing at the doorway.

Stan: Clyde…?

Clyde: He doesn't…have…any more brownies… [Bursts into tears again.]

Bebe runs up to Clyde and shakes him, much like how he shook Cartman.

Bebe: What do you mean he doesn't have any more brownies?! [She bangs at the door.] CARTMAN! ERIC! OPEN THE DOOR, YOU FUCKING SON-OF-A-BITCH!

Stan and Kenny both appeared horrified at the revelation that there are no more brownies. They join Bebe and Clyde on the doorstep.

Stan: CARTMAN! CARTMAN, OPEN UP, ASSHOLE!

Kenny: [Cartman! Cartman, for the love of God Almighty!]

Inside the house, Cartman and his mother continue to stare at the door. Cartman slowly turns to Liane. As the following conversation takes place, the shouting and banging on the door continues.

Cartman: …Mommy, why are all my friends acting like crackheads?

Liane: Oh dear… I must have added too much CGP to the brownies you brought to school…

Cartman: CGP?

Liane: Chologlucogen powder. It's a special ingredient Mommy uses to make her goodies extra tasty. But it's not very healthy to have too much.

Cartman: …But why are all my friends acting like crackheads?

Liane: Well, the ingredient is just an eensy-weensy bit addictive…

Cartman: Holy screwballs…And you've been feeding me this shit?!

Liane: Eric, Mommy only uses the ingredient because it makes you so happy when you eat it.

Clyde (from outside, sobbing): I want browniiiieees!

Cartman: Jesus Christ.

Description
Threadbare South Park
Episode #6: Fall of the House of Pierzynski
(TSP Season 1 Episode 6)
____________________________________

NOTE: This piece is written in the form of a script. It contains naughty language. Mr. Garrison speaks for Mr. Hat. Kenny's lines are parenthesized to indicate that they are muffled. This story takes place when the kids are in the third grade.
____________________________________

ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS EPISODE-EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE-ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. ALL CANON CHARACTERS' LINES ARE WRITTEN BY THREADBARE...POORLY. THE FOLLOWING SCRIPT CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.
____________________________________

The third grade students are standing around and talking in the classroom when the bell rings for school to start. Many of the kids are dressed up in suits, scrubs, etc. Mr. Garrison enters the room.

Mr. Garrison: Alright, children, let's settle down now. Take your seats. [The kids disperse and sit down in their seats.] Now, I hope you've all been working hard on your Career Projects, because we're going to start presenting them today.

Kyle (whispering to Stan): I'm gonna be a detective!

Stan (whispering to Kyle): I'm gonna be a marine biologist!

Cartman (snickering): You two are total fags.

Mr. Garrison: Now, who would like to volunteer to go first? [Clyde raises his hand.] Okay, Clyde, why don't you get us started?

Clyde wears a tuxedo and has his hair slicked back. He walks up to the front of the class and begins to read off of a sheet of paper.

Clyde (sounding choppy, since he's reading directly off the sheet): When I grow up, I will be a politician. I will help make laws to make America a better place. I will make meatloaf illegal and on Fridays, I will give everyone free ice cream. I will… also make a law to prevent animal shelters from putting puppies to sleep. Puppies are cute and cuddly. I do not want them to die.

Mr. Garrison: Gosh, Clyde, what are you going to do with all those stray dogs?

Clyde stares at Mr. Garrison for a moment, looking clueless about what to say next. Eventually, he just continues reading.

Clyde: I will make our economy better. I will make taxes lower and give money to the poor.

Mr. Garrison: How exactly do you expect that to work?

Mr. Hat: Yeah, it sounds like you have a pretty weak understanding of economics, Clyde.

Clyde glances at Mr. Hat then back at his paper a few times before continuing.

Clyde (looking nervous): …Most of all, I want to be a politician because I want to help my local community. I will build parks and plant trees. I will build schools and roads and libraries, and everyone will love me. The end.

The class claps politely. Mr. Garrison writes down some notes on the presentation.

Mr. Garrison: God help the district that elects you, Clyde Donovan. Who's up next? How about Charlie?

Charlie eagerly hops out of her seat. She wears hiking boots, brown pants, a brown leather jacket, and an old-fashioned pilot's cap and goggles. She goes up to the front of the classroom, holding onto a rolled-up poster.

Charlie: When I grow up, I am going to be an airline pilot.

Cartman (looking dubious): Seriously?

Charlie: I'll be in charge of taking off, manning the plane, keeping an eye on the plane and the weather, and landing.

Mr. Garrison: That's very cute, Charlie, but unless you want to end up a failure like Clyde, you're going to have to give more detail than that.

Charlie: Okay.

She unrolls the poster. Inside is a detailed sketch of the interior of an airplane. The poster is titled "Boeing 787 Dreamliner." She sets it on the ledge of the chalkboard and points to the various aspects of the design with a collapsible metal pointer as she describes them.

Charlie: This is the design of my favorite model of airplane, the Boeing 787 "Dreamliner." It is a brand new model: its first commercial flight was just this October, there are only eleven of them in use! It is a long-range, mid-size, wide-body, twin-engine jet airliner developed by the Boeing Commercial Airplanes company. It can seat from 210 to 290 passengers, and it's the company's most fuel-efficient jet; it uses 20% less fuel than the Boeing 767, which is about the same size. It's got a four-panel windshield, noise-reducing technology on the engines, and a smoother nose contour. People: this [she points at the picture] is the future of long-distance air travel.

Cartman (yawning): That sounds lame.

Charlie: Does not!

Stan: Don't worry, Charlie. Cartman's just mad because he's too fat to be a pilot. He's so heavy he'd crash the plane.

A few students snicker.

Cartman: Hey! I'm not fat!

Mr. Garrison: Shut up, Eric! We've got a lot of these things to get through! [To Charlie] Let's wrap this thing up, Charlotte.

Charlie: In conclusion, I am going to be a pilot when I grow up because I'll get to go to all sorts of exciting places and use a Boeing 787. And I'll get to fly thousands of feet off the ground at high speeds in a giant hunk of steel and live. The end.

Charlie goes back to her seat. Cartman rolls his eyes and looks over at her.

Cartman: That was pretty embarrassing, kiddo. You're so butch, I think I can actually see a bulge down there.

Charlie glares at him but doesn't say anything.

Mr. Hat: Well, why don't you do your presentation next then, Eric, if you're gonna be a bitchy little smartass.

Mr. Garrison: That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Hat.

Cartman: Fine. I will.

Cartman walks up to the front of the room. He folds his hands behind his back and speaks in an unusually sweet tone.

Cartman: When I grow up, I am going to have the most wonderful, the most satisfying, the most AWESOME career ever. I… am going to be a chef. [The kids in the class start to snigger. Cartman's self-satisfied smirk turns into a glare.] Hey! Don't you assholes laugh at me!

Mr. Garrison: You watch your goddamn mouth, Eric, or I'm taking your ass to the principal's office!

Cartman (whining): But Mr. Garrison! They're being disrespectful while I'm trying to give my presentation!

Mr. Garrison: Oh, please. Don't give me any of that whiny baby bull crap.

Craig: Yeah, and being a chef is totally gay.

Cartman: I don't think anybody asked for your opinion, CRAIG! Now if I may continue… [He clears his throat.] I want to be a chef because I will be able to share my delicious creations and my love of food with the world. But mostly, I'll just eat.

Kyle: Yeah, like you need to spend any more time around food.

Cartman (glaring): You know what? Screw you guys! If you don't want to sample my caramel brownies, then I guess that's just more for me!

The other students stop snickering and lean forward in their seats.

Clyde: Did you say caramel brownies?

Cartman goes to his desk and pulls out a plate of wrapped-up brownies.

Cartman (in a sugary-sweet voice): Yes, Clyde, I did say "caramel brownies." I made them myself to share with the class. [His voice returns to normal.] But since they're being ASSHOLES, I guess I'll just eat them myself!

Mr. Garrison (eyeing the brownies hungrily): Eric Cartman, you share your brownies with the class right now, young man!

Cartman: No!

Mr. Garrison (growling): Eric…

Cartman: Fine!

Cartman begins to distribute the brownies, giving one to each child—except for Kyle, whose desk he passes.

Kyle: Hey! You skipped me, fatass!

Cartman: Uh-huh.

Kyle: Give me a brownie, Cartman!

Cartman: [Finishes distributing the rest of the brownies] Fine fine—oh. Uh-oh…

Kyle: What is it?

Cartman (with feigned concern): Oh, wait a minute. Mr. Garrison, I forgot to make sure that I used kosher margarine…

Kyle: Wh—Huh?

Cartman (with the same pretend sympathy): Yeah. I guess that means Kyle can't eat them, huh? [He takes away Kyle's brownie.] Sorry Kyle. What a bummer.

Charlie: Whoa, you can't eat that 'cause of your religion? Being Jewish must suck!

Kyle: No it doesn't!

Stan takes a bite of his brownie.

Stan: Whoa… these are actually really good! Kyle, you have no idea what you're missing!

As the kids (minus Kyle) begin to eat their brownies, a student enters the room and hands Mr. Garrison a note. Mr. Garrison reads it as the kid hurries away.

Mr. Garrison: Uh… [Looking up] Charlie, you're going to have to go down to Mr. Mackey's office for a talk.

Charlie, about to take her first bite of brownie, puts the treat down and looks up, concerned.

Charlie: Huh? What'd I do?

Mr. Garrison: Nothing. But it's Mr. Mackey's job to talk with students with emotional problems, to help them sort out their feelings or some bull-crap like that.

Charlie stares at Mr. Garrison, looking quite unhappy with this turn of events, and Cartman lets out a shout of glee.

Cartman: Whoa-ho! Looks like Charlie's one of the weird kids!

Charlie: Nuh-uh! I am not!

Cartman: Yeah-huh! Only the weird kids get called to the guidance counselor to talk about their feelings.

Charlie glances over at Stan and Kyle, who nod and shrug in affirmation.

Stan: He's right.

Mr. Garrison: Hurry up, Charlotte, I've got a class of normal kids to teach.

Timmy (randomly, from the corner of the room): TIMMEH!

Charlie sighs and walks from the room, brownie uneaten. Clyde stares at it for a few seconds before grabbing it from her desk.
________________________________________

Charlie walks down the hallway toward the counselor's office. As she approaches the doorway, she slows down, hesitates, and finally raises her first to knock. At that same moment, the door swings open, and she finds herself face-to-face with an angry-looking black-haired boy with thick eyebrows. Charlie yelps and jumps back in surprise. The boy doesn't react at all. Mr. Mackey walks up behind him.

Mr. Mackey: Now, I want you to think about some of those anger management strategies we talked about, Damien, m'kay?

Damien: Deep breathing and Pilates to tame the beast within!

Mr. Mackey: Exactly! I'll see you next week, m'kay?

Damien walks away, not acknowledging Charlie, who still stands in a substrate position a few feet from the doorway. Her shoulders are hunched, and she rubs her hands together below her chin.

Mr. Mackey (looking at a clipboard): M'kay… You are… Charlie Pierzynski… [Sudden look of recognition] Oh, Charlie Pierzynski! You're the little abused girl, m'kay? We've talked before.

Charlie: Y-yeah.

Mr. Mackey: M'kay! [He steps out of the way of the entrance.] Why don't you come in and sit down so we can get to know each other a little better, m'kay?

Still rubbing her hands together, Charlie enters the office and sits down on the couch. Mr. Mackey sits in a chair across from her, pen poised above a clipboard with notepaper.

Mr. Mackey: M'kay... Now, do you prefer Charlie or Charlotte?

Charlie: Uh... I...don't really care, but my name's Charlie.

Mr. Mackey: M'kay... But your full name is Charlotte.

Charlie: Naw, it's... it's just Charlie. Charlie May Pierzynski.

Mr. Mackey: ...M'...Is that a family name, or-?

Charlie wears an expression of mixed aggravation and wistfulness.

Charlie: It's my mom's fault.
________________________________________

Flashback:

Jane Pierzynski is in the hospital in a gown, moaning through labor pains. Joe Pierzynski sits nearby, smoking a cigarette and flipping through a guitar magazine. Jane is flanked by a doctor and a nurse.

Doctor: You're doing great, Miss Williams.

Jane (whilst groaning): It's Mrs. Pierzynski now, Doc! Me and Joe went and got married! [Groans loudly; the doctor peers under her gown.] We're gonna start a family!

Doctor: That's very cute that you think that. Oh, look! It's crowning!

Nurse: Give us another good push, Jane!

Jane lets out a final loud moan and the doctor reveals a crying baby moments later.

Doctor: Congratulations, Jane! It's a girl!

Jane (breathing heavily): A girl...

Nurse: Oh, do you have a name in mind?

Jane: Well, I do like the name Charlotte... But see, I've been thinking lately; wouldn't it be just precious if she was called Charlie?

Doctor: ...As a nickname, or...?

Jane: As a real name! I think I'm gonna do it! It'd be so cute and funny! What do you think, Joe?

Joe glances up from his magazine.

Joe: It's your kid, you call it what you want.

Jane: Then Charlie it is. Charlie May Pierzynski... So cute and funny...

End flashback.
________________________________________

Charlie: Cute and funny... Mom always said she thought it was cute and funny. [She stares irritably at Mr. Mackey.] I don't think it's cute or funny.

Mr. Mackey: Yeah, that was kind of a bitch move on your mom's part, m'kay.
________________________________________

Later, the boys are in the lunch line. Charlie stands meekly behind them, staring at the ground. Stan, who is last in line before Charlie, looks over his shoulder at her.

Stan: So what'd you do at Mr. Mackey's office?

Charlie: Oh, I dunno… We talked a lot about my mom and stuff, and he said I should start writing in a diary to help me process my emotions and traumatic memories.

Kenny (from the front of the line): (Diaries are for fags.)

Stan: Yeah, that's pretty gay.

Charlie (a bit nervously): You think so?

Cartman (snickering): Dude, the only thing gayer than writing in a diary is making out with someone of the same gender.

Kyle: You guys shouldn't be such assholes. Maybe having a diary would…I dunno…help her… [At this point, Kyle begins to lose conviction in his own argument.]…process her emotions or something.

The boys and Charlie stare incredulously at Kyle for a few seconds without speaking.

Cartman: …Yeah, don't listen to Kyle, he's a little fag.

Kyle glares.

Stan: You're not really gonna do it though, are you?

Charlie: N-no… No! [She now wears an expression of confident resentment.] Fuck that shit! Diaries are gay!

Stan: Just like cooking!

Cartman's expression immediately changes from one of enthusiasm to irritation.

Cartman: Hey!

The kids (including Charlie) walk up to Chef for their lunches, all chuckling at Cartman's expense. Cartman glowers.

Chef: Hello, children!

Kids: Hey, Chef!

Chef: How's it goin'?

Charlie and Cartman: Bad.

Chef: Why "bad"?

Stan: [Pinches his nose bridge and sighs.] Chef, can the rest of us please just get our food?

Chef: Well okay then…

Chef serves Stan, Kyle, and Kenny their lunches. The three boys exit, evidently not in the mood to listen to Cartman and Charlie's woes.

Chef: Now, tell me, children: what's the matter?

Charlie: Chef, am I kind of messed up?

Chef: …Uh, well, I don't really know, children. You seem alright to me. Why do you think that?

Cartman: Because she's crazy as fuck.

Charlie: I am not!

Cartman: Yes she is. I saw her itching out a wedgie in class, and my mom says only sick people like to rub their privates in public. [Charlie glares at him, but has no retort for this.] Plus, she has to go talk to the guidance counselor about her emotions. And only the messed up kids have to do that. Case [he folds his arms] cloooosed.

Damien, who is next in line for lunch, scoots up on Charlie's other side with his tray, staring straight ahead with a demonic expression. Charlie looks rather frightened of him; Cartman cites him as further evidence.

Cartman: See? See, that kid has to go talk to the guidance counselor too, because he's a fucking lunatic.

Damien: A scourge of hepatitis upon you!

Chef: Children, children…! There ain't no use in generalizin' and stigmatizin' just because some people need a little bit of emotional guidance!

Damien: Enough! Provide me with sustenance, lest I set a scourge of fallen angels upon ye!

Chef gives Damien a confused and disturbed look as he serves the little boy his food. Damien walks away, glowering.

Chef: …That is one messed-up little cracker.

Charlie: Mr. Mackey says that kid 'n me are gonna be in a therapy group together.

Cartman: Heh… Dude… You're gonna fucking die.

Charlie, having had enough of this conversation, glowers as she picks up her tray and walks away, although her expression changes to one of anxiety once she's turned her back to Cartman. Meanwhile, Cartman continues his conversation with Chef.

Chef: And what's been "bad" with you, children?

Cartman: Well, we had our career presentations today, and everybody called me faggy for wanting to be a cook when I grow up.

Chef (outraged): WHAT? Now, listen here, children: there is nothing faggy about bein' a chef.

Cartman: That's what I told them! But they wouldn't listen to logic! They think only girls should cook, but they've got it all wrong! Women should all be in the kitchen, of course, but if a person of the opposite gender wants to occupy that space, it should not be stigmatized!

Chef: That's right, children! Hey, you know, I have an idea! Why don't you come by my house after school this afternoon? We could whip up some delicious crème brulee and discuss what sorts of women we find most attractive!

Cartman: Ew, fuck no. Girls are gross.

Chef: [Sighs.] Well, why don't you come over anyway, just for culinary male-bonding purposes? If you're really interested in being a chef, you're gonna need a male role model.

Cartman: You mean like Gordon Ramsay?

Chef stares at him blankly.

Cartman: OH, oh, I gotcha… Fine, as long as I get cookies or some shit. Thanks, Chef.

Chef: See you this afternoon, children!

Cartman takes his tray and walks away. Chef smiles to himself.

Chef: I'm gonna be… a mentor…
________________________________________

After school that day, Charlie is sitting in her (Shelly's) room. She sits on her mattress with a schoolbook open and a toy airplane in her hand. She enacts a dramatic flight scene, complete with whooshing and screeching sound effects.

Charlie (as co-pilot): Pierzynski! We're dropping!

Charlie (as herself, the pilot, in a dramatic tone): Damn it, I know we're dropping, Fitzmurphy! For the love of God, stay calm! [She now pretends to get on the intercom, addressing her passengers.] Psstch! Passengers of flight 455! This is your Captain speaking! We are experiencing some mechanical difficulties! Please employ your safety devices immediately!

Charlie (as various passengers, in high-pitched, shrieking voices): Oh no! We're all going to die! My baby!

Charlie (as co-pilot): How the hell are you going to land this thing, Pierzynski?

Charlie (as herself): Damn if I know, Murph. Damn if I know.

Just then, a knock comes at the door. Charlie quickly drops the toy and grabs the schoolbook, pretending to be reading.

Charlie: Come in!

Sharon opens the door and peeks inside.

Sharon: Did I hear somebody playing in here?

Charlie: ….No….

Sharon: Charlie, I thought I told you to study for your history test.

Charlie: [Glumly] Yeah, I know… [She perks up and smiles a bit at Sharon.] Hey! Maybe me and Stan could study together!

Sharon: Stanley is studying at Eric's house with Kyle and Kenny.

We witness a three second clip of Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny playing video games at Cartman's house.

Charlie (a bit hurt): Oh… I didn't get invited, huh?

Sharon enters the room and sits on the edge of Shelly's bed, looking down at Charlie with some sympathy. She's also holding a small plastic shopping bag in her lap.

Sharon: Don't get your feelings hurt, dear. Sometimes boys just want to play with other boys. And those four have been such good friends for a long time.

Charlie (dejectedly): I know… Sometimes I wish I wasn't a lame-ass pussy man-girl.

Sharon: Charlotte!

Charlie: That's what I am though!

Sharon: There's nothing wrong with being a tomboy, dear.

Charlie: But I'm not a tomboy. Not really. I'm not good at sports or video games like a boy. But I'm also not pretty and giggly and...whatever else girls are...like a girl's supposed to be.

Sharon: You're thinking too narrowly, Charlie. Not all girls are the same. Take Shelly, for instance. She isn't pretty or giggly, but she's certainly a girl, isn't she?

Charlie: I guess that's true... [She smiles a bit and looks at Sharon.] Thanks, Mrs. Marsh.

Sharon: No problem at all, dear. [She appears to remember something.] Oh! By the way, I spoke with your counselor Mr. Mackey this afternoon. [Charlie's face falls.] He mentioned wanting you to get a diary to use to process your emotions and traumatic memories, so I got you this.

Sharon opens the plastic bag she'd been holding and removes a thick purple book labelled "My Super Secret Diary XOXO". Sharon smiles as she hands the empty book to Charlie, who stares at it blankly.

Charlie: ...Thanks.

Sharon: No problem, dear. [She stands up and approaches the door of the room.] Maybe you can write in it once you've finished studying for that history test.

Sharon leaves the room and closes the door. Charlie glares down at the diary before chucking it in the corner and picking up her toy airplane again.
_____________________________

In front of Cartman's house, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny stare irritably at Eric from his front step.

Kyle: Come on, Cartman! You can't just kick us out right before the boss stage!

Cartman: Uh, yeah I can.

Kenny: [The fuck is your problem, cock-sucker?]

Cartman: Shut up Kenny. Screw you guys; go the fuck home.

Cartman slams the door in their faces. The three other boys start walking angrily away from the house.

Kyle: What a douche.

Cartman watches them leave from his window. Once they're a safe distance away, he hurries out of the house and heads in the opposite direction.
_____________________________

Inside Chef's house, Chef is humming soulfully to himself as he prepares some batter, a cookbook open. He pauses to take a small taste, smiles, and continues humming and stirring. The doorbell rings. Chef sets down the batter and heads to the front room, opening the door for Cartman.

Chef: Hello, children!

Cartman: Hey, Chef.

Chef: Come on in! I was just working on my patent white velvet cake with a sweet cream cheese frosting.

Cartman: Sweeeeeeeet.

Cartman enters the house. Chef leads him to the kitchen, where the bowl of batter sits alongside a bowl of frosting he's still preparing.

Chef: Now, the key to the frosting is to make sure the cheesy flavor is subtle and sweet, but creamy and soft, like the experience of pleasuring a beautiful woman. [Cartman stares at the bowl of batter as Chef talks, his voice somewhat dulled by Cartman's lack of paying attention.] Now the key is to add some sugary cream, vanilla, and milk in with the cream cheese. [He begins adding some ingredients as Cartman continues to stare hungrily at the batter.] Stir it softly…gently….lovingly….[Chef closes his eyes as he seems to drift off to fantasyland.] …like you're caressing the body of a beautiful, sultry woman. You gotta smell that icing, taste that icing…love that icing… Mmmmmmm-mmmm!

Chef opens his eyes again and looks down at Cartman. Cartman is holding the now-empty bowl of batter, remnants of the concoction all around his mouth. Chef simply stares at the boy for several seconds.
_____________________________

Cartman is shoved out the front door by Chef.

Cartman: Owwwww!

Chef: Now, you can come back once you're serious about learning how to cook! I ain't here to be your babysitter! Now get on back home, children!

Chef slams the door. Cartman whines.

Cartman: Hmph!
_____________________________

Stan enters his house, sighing. He glowers as he walks up the stairs, muttering about Cartman being a "douchebag", and walks to the door to Shelly's room. Without knocking, he opens the door. Inside, Charlie is holding the diary, a pen to the paper. She stares at him, looking horrified. Stan stares back.

Charlie: …It's not what it looks like.

Stan: "My Super-Secret Diary XOXO."

Charlie is unable to respond. Stan starts to laugh. Charlie glares and throws the book aside, marching out of the room, humiliated. Stan, still giggling, glances over to make sure Charlie is gone before walking over to where the purple diary lies and opening it up.

Diary: Dear Diary; Mr. Mackey and Mrs. Marsh say I should write in you because my emotions are screwy. I don't really know what to write, but I'm going to try anyway. Today I did my career project thingy in school. Cartman said it was really butch that I wanted to be a pilot. But he wanted to be a chef, so he's gay too. But he did bring brownies to school. They looked real good. I didn't even get to eat any of mine though because Mr. Mackey made me go to his office. Then we talked about…

Stan looks up from the diary, apparently no longer interested in what Charlie has written. His mind wanders to the caramel brownies Cartman brought to school that day… They were so good… A mental image of his first bite of brownie replays over and over again in Stan's mind… He closes the diary and walks out of the room, transfixed with thoughts of brownies.
_____________________________

Cartman enters his house after his meeting with Chef, looking extremely peeved. His mother is sitting on the couch.

Liane: Everything alright, snookums?

Cartman: No, everything is not alright! Chef was a total bully and didn't even let me eat the frosting!

Liane: Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie-poo.

Cartman, whining to himself, starts to walk up the stairs.

Liane: Oh, Eric?

Cartman (snapping): What?

Liane: Quite a few of your little friends stopped by while you were gone.

Cartman: Ugh, next time Kyle comes over, just ignore him, Mom!

Liane: Oh, it wasn't Kyle, sweetums. But a lot of your other little classmates came by. It was kind of strange, really. [She puts a hand to her chin reflectively.] They came one at a time, and they all looked very nervous. One little boy came to the door at least three times. I think he might still be in the bushes, actually.

Cartman glances out the front window and sees Clyde staring into the house, his face pressed against the glass. Clyde attempts to duck out of view once spotted. Cartman, looking both annoyed and baffled, goes out his front door and turns to the left, where Clyde is crouching in the bushes.

Cartman: Clyde, what the fuck?

Clyde: …Hi Cartman.

Cartman: Oh, hey Clyde. Hey. Uh, say, this might come off as a sort of odd question to be asking, but what the fuck are you doing in my bushes?

Clyde: …Nothing. [Cartman stares at him with obvious annoyance.] …Look, Cartman, do you have any more of those brownies?

Cartman: What?

Clyde: You know, the caramel brownies you brought in to school? Do you have any more of them?

Cartman: No. And if I did, shit if I'm sharing them with you asshole.

Clyde leaps up from out of the bushes and onto the front stoop. He grabs a visibly startled Cartman by the front of his coat and shakes him, looking almost panicked.

Clyde: I need more brownies, man! You have to make more brownies!

Cartman frees himself from Clyde's grip, backs through the doorway, slams the door, and locks it. Outside, Clyde bangs on the door with both fists, his voice breaking with desperation and emotion.

Clyde: CARTMAN! I NEED MORE BROWNIES, CARTMAN! CARTMAN!!!

Inside, Cartman and Liane both stare at the door with mixed confusion and fear. Outside, Clyde slides down to his knees and bangs pleadingly at the door with his palms, reduced to tears. Behind him, Stan, Bebe, and Kenny show up, all arriving from different directions. They stare at Clyde sobbing at the doorway.

Stan: Clyde…?

Clyde: He doesn't…have…any more brownies… [Bursts into tears again.]

Bebe runs up to Clyde and shakes him, much like how he shook Cartman.

Bebe: What do you mean he doesn't have any more brownies?! [She bangs at the door.] CARTMAN! ERIC! OPEN THE DOOR, YOU FUCKING SON-OF-A-BITCH!

Stan and Kenny both appeared horrified at the revelation that there are no more brownies. They join Bebe and Clyde on the doorstep.

Stan: CARTMAN! CARTMAN, OPEN UP, ASSHOLE!

Kenny: [Cartman! Cartman, for the love of God Almighty!]

Inside the house, Cartman and his mother continue to stare at the door. Cartman slowly turns to Liane. As the following conversation takes place, the shouting and banging on the door continues.

Cartman: …Mommy, why are all my friends acting like crackheads?

Liane: Oh dear… I must have added too much CGP to the brownies you brought to school…

Cartman: CGP?

Liane: Chologlucogen powder. It's a special ingredient Mommy uses to make her goodies extra tasty. But it's not very healthy to have too much.

Cartman: …But why are all my friends acting like crackheads?

Liane: Well, the ingredient is just an eensy-weensy bit addictive…

Cartman: Holy screwballs…And you've been feeding me this shit?!

Liane: Eric, Mommy only uses the ingredient because it makes you so happy when you eat it.

Clyde (from outside, sobbing): I want browniiiieees!

Cartman: Jesus Christ.