A few weeks later…

"Alright, class," Mr. Garrison glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway, "It's time to put your math homework away."

The class happily threw their math worksheet to the side as Garrison stood up.

"For social studies today we will be having a quiz over the Bill of Rights reading you all should have done over the weekend."

There was a loud moan.

"A quiz on Monday?! Who does that?" Clyde complained.

"Hitler," Craig stated.

"Hitler wasn't even that cruel," Cartman added.

"Yeah!" The class exclaimed collectively.

Garrison sighed, "I figured telling you little bastards to do anything over the weekend was pointless…"

He looked back up at the clock, "Alright, since most of you probably don't even know what the Bill of Rights is and since I want more than 10 percent of my class to pass this multiple choice state-standard quiz… I guess we'll spend about 30 minutes studying."

Garrison continued, "Break into groups of two and quiz each other with the flashcards we made on Friday.

The kids quickly teamed up.

"Want to be my partner, Kenny?" Cartman offered as choices began to dwindle.

"Sorry, dude. I'm with Butters," Kenny scooted his desk together with his friend.

"It looksth like we're the only onesth left, Eric," Scott Malkinson scooted his desk together with Cartman's.

"Weak…"

Stan and Kyle laughed.

"I gave you 30 minutes to study, not to mess around. Get to work!" Garrison yelled crossly.

Kyle took his flashcards out of his notebook and turned to Stan, "I'll quiz you first."

"'Kay."

"The right given by this amendment allows Cartman to say stupid, ignorant, anti-Semitic things all the time," Kyle snickered.

Cartman glared at the Kyle after the mention of his name.

"Uh… First?"

"Yeah. Good job!"

The boys laughed.

"The right given by this amendment allows me to keep a handgun in my dresser so I can shoot that no-good, Jew snake-in-the-grass the next time he breaks into my god damn room!" Cartman spoke loudly as he turned to Scott.

"Sthecond?"

"The right given by this amendment protects me from Cartman tearing my room apart looking for something he thinks I stole without any reason!" Kyle retorted.

"Fourth, I think."

"The right given by this amendment forbids Kyle from assuming I'm the one that broke into his house last Thursday night unless he can prove it!" Cartman spoke looking directly at Kyle.

"Thatsth the fifth amendment."

Before Kyle could volley his next question-directed insult, Cartman spoke again, "And the right given by this amendment, unfortunately, prevents Kyle from being gassed to death like the sneaky Jew-rat he is when I prove he took my shit!"

"Eighth?"

"Cartman! Kyle! That's enough!" Garrison yelled.

"Speaking of executions," Cartman turned to Kenny, "You're dad is being transferred to the state pen today, right?"

"Your dad's being executed for attempted murder?" Clyde asked.

"No…," Kenny's face turned bright red.

"Well, he probably should be for what he did to you and for all the stuff he put you and your brother and sister through."

"Is that truly compassion I hear in your voice, fat boy?" Kyle questioned, surprised.

"Shut up, Jew," Cartman continued, "Not with those fancy drugs though. Poor people should be executed by the electric chair."

"And to think, I almost thought you weren't an asshole there for a second," Kyle rolled his eyes.

"Is the electric chair even still a thing?" Stan asked.

"I think it's banned from the eighth amendment," Wendy chimed in, as half the class was now enthralled with the conversation.

Kenny put his head down on his desk.

"Nu-uh. I heard they're still legal Florida and some other states," Token spoke up.

"Where'd you hear that?" Kyle asked.

"My dad and I were talking -"

"Guys…," Kenny interrupted, "Can we please talk about something else… Anything else," he begged.

"I think they're legal in Oklahoma too," Craig added.

"Can I go use the restroom, please?" Kenny asked Garrison, desperate for a ticket out of the classroom and away from this conversation.

"Why not. Nobody's studying anyway," he nodded.

"Me too?" Butters quickly asked as Kenny got up and walked out.

Garrison motioned toward the door.

Butters hurried out and down the hallway.

"Kenny!" He ran after him.

Kenny stopped by the water fountain.

"You okay?" Butters asked as he approached the upset boy.

"Yeah… I just couldn't stand that conversation anymore."

Butters stood by quietly as Kenny took a drink of water before asking, "So how's everything going at home since your mom got back?"

"Everything's been fine… Better than it's ever been really. She got a second job and hasn't drank at all since she got back… It's nice to go home for once and not be worried whether or not someone – maybe me – is going to get killed in a drunken rage tonight."

"That's really good news, Kenny," Butters smiled as he pat his friend on the back.

"That's not all, last night we actually had real food… Mom made pork chops and macaroni and cheese… I think that's the first cooked meal I've had from her in months. It was amazing!" Kenny laughed.

Butters chuckled in response, "So, hey. You want to maybe come over to my house after school? We could play games or watch a movie or something."

"I'd like that," Kenny smiled.

After standing around in the hallway for a few more minutes, Kenny decided it was time to head back to the classroom, "We'd better get back before Garrison loses it on us."

Butters nodded and followed Kenny back.

When the two entered, the class was still loud with non-social-studies-related banter.

Kenny was about to take his seat when Garrison stopped him, "Kenny, the office called; I was supposed to send you down there when you got back."

"Oooh," Cartman taunted, "Kenny's in trouble!"

"What did I do?" Kenny was genuinely unsure.

"You're not in trouble, Kenny. Just go to the office, please."

Kenny left the class once more.

The office referred him to the principal.

He was almost nervous when he knocked on the principal's door.

"Come in!" He heard from the other side.

As he entered he was immediately taken back the large group of people gathered in the room.

His mother, his brother, his sister, and about five police officers.

"Kenny!" Karen ran to and embraced her brother, clearly upset.

"Wh-What's going on?"

"That's all of your children, Mrs. McCormick?"

"Yeah…"

"Mom… What's going on…?"

"Alright, we need to get all of you to a safe location as soon as possible," a police officer spoke.

"Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on?!" Kenny yelled.

An officer turned to him, "Your father somehow managed to escape custody during transport earlier this morning. He's currently at large and we strongly believe all of your lives are in immediate danger."

A chill shot up Kenny's spine.