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Mrs. Stotch raised her hands to her mouth. "Oh dear! We had no idea. If we knew, we would have put a stop to it." Her husband nodded to her; his eyes were closed and he swallowed a lump in his throat.

Butters thought about the class discussion, and thought about what he might have said that was bad. Then he remembered. The words had just tumbled out of him, and Butters didn't give it another thought. Sure, he was supposed to focus on whether Chef had touched him here or touched him there, but Chef's hands had always been busy serving the hot lunch, or wrapped around pretty ladies. Chef ain't never tickled me anywhere. Only Uncle Bud does that, because he loves me.

Like always, Butters aimed to please. When he saw Detective Jarvis demonstrate something he recognized, he couldn't help announcing, "My Uncle Bud did that to me once!" There. At least someone's paying attention to the nice man who came all the way from the police station to talk to us.

Mr. Mackey leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. "Butters, please tell your parents what you told us, m'kay."

"W-well, the man asked us, 'Did Chef do this?'" To the shock of all the adults, Butters candidly pantomimed the detective performing anilingus on the doll. "And I told him that one time Uncle Bud put his mouth on my butthole."

"Oh my God!" squealed Mrs. Stotch.

Mr. Stotch leapt up and wrapped an arm around her. "There, there, Linda."

Clearing his throat, Mr. Mackey spoke. "I know this must be very difficult for you. Sexual abuse is bad, m'kay."

Looking at the stunned Stotches, Principal Victoria added, "But you shouldn't blame yourselves. We want to help..."

"That's right," Mr. Stotch continued, patting his wife's hand. "Don't blame yourself. Blame this delinquent for making up filthy lies about our family!" He smacked Butters in the back of the head.

Regaining her composure, Mrs. Stotch crossed her arms and glared at Butters. "Why would you do such a thing? Your Aunt Nellie and Uncle Bud are so good to you, and this is how you thank them?"

"I know Uncle Bud loves me," protested Butters. "That's why he tickled my butt with his tongue."

"That does it, young man," Mr. Stotch declared. "You are grounded!"

Butters looked at the floor. "Aww, gee." He knew it was coming.

A torrent of cackling noise echoed in the wall. "What was that? It sounds like someone laughing." Mrs. Stotch looked to Mrs. Garrison.

"Probably a gas leak," Mrs. Garrison answered without interest. "Something's always screwed up around here."

The noise continued, but Mr. Stotch ignored it, focused on Butters. "Now tell your teachers you're sorry for being a compulsive liar."

Mr. Mackey, Mrs. Garrison, and Principal Victoria watched in silence as Butters tapped his knuckles and repeated, "I'm sorry for being a c-compulsive liar."

"That's better," said Mr. Stotch. "I'm sorry our miserable excuse for a son was causing problems with all his smutty talk. I'm sure we won't have to have this conversation again."

"No, sir." Butters couldn't look at any of them. He was sure he remembered his uncle Bud stroking his back, then sliding a hand into the waistband of his polka dot pyjama bottoms, and... No. I'm a liar and I need to stop making up stories about my uncle.

Mr. Stotch rose and led the way to the door. Mrs. Stotch grudgingly grabbed Butters by the arm and dragged him out of the office. "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Garrison," said Butters, sweetly, giving a parting wave.

Principal Victoria called after the Stotches, "Thank you again for..." The door slammed. "...for coming in."

Mrs. Garrison drew a long breath. "Wow. And I thought my family was fucked up."

"It's no wonder the Stotch boy is acting out sexually, m'kay. He is trying to reassure himself that someone loves him."

Principal Victoria was not convinced, "Excuse me, but aren't you two going to consider the possibility that what he said was true?"

"Oh, please." Mrs. Garrison crossed her legs and arms. "Kids make crap up. My whole class lies all the time. And the language! You wouldn't believe the shit that comes out of the little asshats' mouths."

"The sexual behavior is a problem. The students did not take Sexual Education seriously, m'kay."

"Why would they? There's the language, and then there's the way they dress. The tight pants, tank tops, I bet some of them even wear thong underwear. No wonder the boys are falling through the cracks; they're distracted by a G-string in someone's ass crack! Show them a thong, and they'll do anything." Mrs. Garrison's voice was rising. "Some schools have already banned thongs, and, as a woman, I find them degrading. I think South Park Elementary should be next to ban them."

Principal Victoria listened, but could not make sense of the tirade. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if they become more interested in sexuality because it's 'forbidden'?"

Without missing a beat, Mrs. Garrison continued. "Sure, why not let them wear their thongs and two-ways, or get a prince albert for shits and giggles. Next thing you know, they'll be coming to school naked and screwing in the hallway. Should I just teach them how to use poppers while we're at it?"

"That's enough, Mrs. Garrison!" interrupted Principal Victoria. "If it's that much of a problem, we'll issue a ban on sexually provocative clothing."

Mr. Mackey blushed and cleared his throat. "I better go dismiss the kids in detention," and dashed across the hall. When he reached the safety of the library, he collapsed into a chair. It was such a relief to get away from the rush of estrogen flowing in the office that the absence of the students assigned to detention was inconsequential.

But public enemy #1 was much closer than Mr. Mackey realized. Cartman still sat motionless, scarcely breathing so he could hear Butters' confession, hanging off every word of the discussion. My Uncle Bud... mouth on my butthole... grounded... fall through the cracks... thong underwear... they'll do anything. Sweet. A sordid tale from Butters and the disclosure of a weapon of class disruption meant days of amusement ahead. Once Cartman was sure that the conversation in the office had descended into recaps of the newest episodes of "Hormonal Housewives" and that there were no more juicy details to be heard, he tiptoed out of the closet and out the gym door.

The frigid air hit him, and he hustled back to his neighborhood like there was a bucket of KFC waiting for him. "Funny. As. Fuck!" he panted, stopping to catch his breath. He looked up to see three shapes shooting baskets on the fenced-in court. Good, a captive audience. He shot across the street, where a car had to swerve wildly to avoid hitting him. "You guys! You guys!" Cartman yelled, and he fell to his knees on the asphalt, laughing and wheezing.