There is a slight breeze rolling through the small mountain town, chilly night air moving without haste throughout the area. Many people are idiotic enough to have stayed outside and unhappy with their decision. For sure, some wives would get beaten due to it. But regardless, the Broflovskis were not stupid and are safely entombed in one of the better houses in town, one that went for a quarter of a million before the crash and three nickels and a goat afterwards. The two bedroom, two and a half bathroom monstrosity was owned by Gerald and Sheila Broflovski, who had moved in a year earlier amidst the financial gains of a series of sexual harassment lawsuits that proved economically favorable to Gerald. The first floor consisted of a spacious living room, a kitchen of high standards, a common room, and a very small dining room- who needs one of those? In the living room, common yet expensive rugs cover the carpet, a cheap nightstand holds a touch lamp, and a basic set of family furniture compliments the large High-Definition TV, TIVO and other assorted systems and gadgets.

It was night in the Broflovski household; both children were fast asleep in bed, and the parents were on the couch watching televsion. "And this is Barbara Walters of 20/20, wishing you a good night." The show ended and credits began. "If you want to watch "My Secret Self: A Story of Transgender Children 2: Electric Buggalo" on ABC's website, go to 20/20, type in this promo code, and wait until the pop-ups end. If you are still awake then, you may watch the show with very poor sound quality." the Broflovski parents looked at each other, not concerned about the website.

"Do our children know?" Sheila exclaimed.

"Well, maybe it is for the best if they don't. We don't know how they would react." Gerald explained.

Sheila got up looking sternly at her husband, "Gerald Mendel Broflovski, I am ashamed of you. It is our job to teach our children what is right, and that includes tolerance. How can we teach if they remain ignorant?" Sheila got up and took the phone quickly. Gerald put his head in his hands.

"Please tell me you won't call the mayor. Aren't you taking this a bit too far?"

Sheila turned around with great anger, and Gerald knew he was in trouble.

"Too far? Too far? What if our children watch it?" She said with venom dripping from her tongue. Gerald looked up.

"So what?"

"So what? Think of the poor kid! He could get picked on." Sheila said sternly.

Gerald, dumbfounded, stared straight at his wife,
"We don't know how the children are going to act!"

"Don't give that look to me!"

"What look?"

"The "why am I not a different place right now" look!" Gerald just held his head in his hands again, sick of arguing. Sheila went back to the phone, finally answering Gerald

"No, not the mayor."


"No Gerald," she picked it up.

"Oh God no, the PTA?"

Sheila dialed in defiance.

"Of course! Who else could do it right?" Gerald sighed and left the room. His departure was met with an even louder sigh.

"Why doesn't he just do what I want?" She returned to the phone and heard an answer on the other line, "Hello, Sharon. I'm well, yourself? That's nice. Listen, did you watch 20/20?" She rolled her eyes "What is it with you and Dateline? Well, whatever. They had a story about a kid in our boys' class who is a transsexual. Yeah, like Garrison in a way, but less creepy. Well, I think we should hold a PTA meeting on Sunday to discuss it. Well, we should have a plan to talk to our kids about it."


"No, how about we all talk to our kids about in private instead of forcing that poor kid to go public? Who is he-she-he, whatever, his name? Oh, really? I know the parents. Private people. Why did they go national television? Ah, that is kind of noble. Well, I guess we can have the meeting on Saturday night. Well, okay, Sunday. But I think we should talk to our kids anyway in private about it. Okay, it was nice talking to you. Good night." Sharon said on the phone before moving back to her bed. "I wish a week would go by without Sheila calling me." Randy stopped reading.

"Why? What'd she want now?"

"Well, one of the boys in class is transgender." Sharon said.

Sharon took one quick look around the room. The door was locked tight to prevent any possible intruders- not from outside the house, but within. She had made plans for her and Randy earlier in the night, but he had come home tired and after eating dinner decided to read a little and go to bed. She had been disappointed, but was a resourceful woman. She'd get off at some point. The bed was ruffled, obviously due to the two people sleeping within its warm covers. Clothes were piled on either side and both adults were in their night dress. Sharon was not pleased with that development, but oh well. She would get off.

"Like Garrison?" Randy asked, not sounding interested in the slightest as he flipped through some crap book about Volcanoes.

"Yeah, like Garrison except less creepy and more sincere. She wants the PTA to meet on Sunday to discuss this." Sharon said, pulling the covers over her as she slid back into bed and looked at Randy.

Randy groaned, "Why can't we just ignore her?"

"Well, I think it may be important that we talk to our children about it. It could be shocking."

"After Garrison, it shouldn't shock them." Randy declared, putting the book down on the nightstand and prepping the pillow for bed.

"From what I can tell, this kid is different- they're actually doing all that hormonal stuff as well. Garrison just got all hacked up." Sharon explained.

"I see. I'm really not interested. Let's just go to bed and worry about in the morning. Or maybe forget about it, God willing." Randy said, turning the light off. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Sharon was not pleased that night, but damnit, she got off. And maybe that is why she and her uninterested husband forgot to talk to Stan about a transgender in his class.


Stan's room appeared to be as clean as the inside of a German bathhouse the next morning. Besides the unmade bed, very little to nothing was out of place and disorder seemed to be impossible. This was not to be the case for long- the young man in bed had just cleaned his room the day before and spent most of the day outside. His football lamp was off, the computer was off, the television was off, the game system was off, the radio was off, and if the young man had been older, maybe he would have gotten off. Everything seemed off in this room, but then again, maybe Stan just thought these things as he woke because he was used to having it be, in some ways, as clean as a Turkish bathhouse.
His parents sleeping in, Stan got dressed, had cereal and went outside on his own. Energized and excited about all the possibilities a weekend day held for a spirited nine year old boy deep in the heart of America, he quickly reached the bus stop. There, he Cartman and Kenny playing with some rocks.

"Good throw Kenny, hahahaha. My turn, my turn!" Cartman reached for Kenny's rocks.

Kenny swatted Cartman's hand away, "No, Cartman, I've hit three birds in a row. You don't go until I miss."

"Goddamnit, Kenny. Stop being a rock hog and share with your friends!" Cartman reached again as Stan walked over.

"Huh, what's going on?"

"We're playing Flying Target but Kenny is being a rock hog." Cartman crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Flying Target?" Stan asked, Cartman not being any help once again.

"Yeah, we throw rocks at birds." Kenny motioned to the sky, trying and failing for a moment to point to a bird.

"Seems like a real fancy name for," Stan moved his arms left to right in a grand, furious gesture, "'Animal Cruelty: Bird Edition' Why the hell are you throwing rocks at birds?" A small bird flew by. Stan could barely stop himself from strangling these two at this moment in time.

"My turn!" Cartman pushed Kenny down.

"Hey!' Kenny cried as Cartman grabbed a rock and threw it- missing short and far to the right as the bird flew away.

"That was the wind!" Cartman whined, his own high pitched whine carrying itself on the wind he bemoaned.

"My turn, fatass!" Kenny cried.

"Stop being such an immature little asshole. Let me have a few tries." Cartman replied.

"Cartman, stop throwing rocks at the birds!" Stan said angirly.

"Oh, shut up you freakin' tree hugging pansy. If it were up to you, you'd get one of those birds and-" Kyle entered, stopping Cartman from uttering a word for a second.

"Hey dudes." Kyle said cheerfully.

"-fuck him." Cartman finished, playing with one rock in his hand.


"Ignore him. They're playing a game where they throw rocks at birds, but Cartman can't hit anything so the birds are safe." Stan told his friend with disgust. Cartman threw the rocks to the ground angrily.

"That's it, I've had enough of all the shit you guys put me through. Screw you guys, I'm going home!" Cartman left.

"Please let it be forever!" Kyle begged. Kenny picked up rocks, "How was your night, Stan?"

"Fine, I guess. I didn't feel so well so I went to bed a little early."

"That sucks. Sorry I wasn't able to come over last night, my dad demanded I finish my homework before the weekend started. And then when I woke up this morning, before I was allowed to leave they said they had something important to discuss."

"What was it?"

"You know that kid Dog Poo?"

"Yeah, what about Charlie?" Stan said, not sure if it was really the kid's name or not.

"Well, maybe before. Not now. He is a transsexual." Kyle said.

"...Like Garrison was?" Stan questioned, his face bemused and quizzical.

"No, not like him. Johnathan has been to several psychiatrists and has been taking hormones and stuff." Kyle waved his arms for emphasis, and knew the name. Stan kicked himself for that, then reminded himself he didn't really care.

"Oh, well, why do we care?" Stan asked aloud, giving voice to his previous thought.

"I'm not sure, but my mom talked to me about accepting him- her, whatever. Until it happens I'm using him- and not treating him poorly."

"She thinks she needs to tell you that?"

"This is my mom we're talking about."

"Good point." Stan replied. Kenny, noticing a bird, readied to hit it.

"Yeah, well, expect your parents to talk about it with you too. Plus, there is going to be a PTA meeting about it tomorrow."

Pause. Stan's brain jumped.

"Why do I not like how this is shaping up?" BAM. Kenny cheered as he hit a bird.


That Sunday, the PTA gathered. The room is full, as several kids have been forced to come as well. Mr. Mackey, Principal Victoria, the teachers, and Sheila are sitting at a table in front of the crowd. The boys are sitting with their parents and not close to one another. Murmurs are heard as scattered conversations continue for some time as most people were uninterested in the PTA as a whole.
"Okay now, the PTA will now start the meeting. Sheila, you know what to do." Victoria said.

Standing up and walking to the podium, Sheila smiled "I most certainly do."

Gerald muttered in the stands, "I hope this doesn't blow up in my face..."

Sheila whispered, "Quiet, Gerald." then spoke up into the podium, "Members of the PTA, not all of you may be aware as to why this meeting is being held-"

"You called everyone!" Mr. Ryan Vulmer called.

"Yeah!" the crowd called.

"All right then, that saves me having to explain it to the PTA itself. However, this meeting is about teaching our children about tolerance, acceptance, and understanding. So we need to tell them what is going on, and in order to get this done quickly, I will just say it."

Randy whispered to Sharon, "She is talking more about why she needs to do it, and less what is happening."

"I can't stand her." Sharon replied. Whispers went around as Sheila spoke.

"One of the students in Mr. Garrison's 4th Grade Class, formerly known as Charles Painter, is a transsexual. Who wants to guess what a transsexual is, kids?" She asked as Stan congratulated himself for knowing the kid's name after all, then reminded himself he didn't care. All the kids raised their hands, "Oh, yes. Garrison. Okay, how many of you thought what Garrison did was stupid, dumb, and a spur of the moment thing?"

"Hey!" Garrison cried as kids kept their hands raised.

"Good. Because, Garrison's transition was poorly thought out and spur of the moment. He was not a real transsexual. However, a student in your class IS a real transsexual; she is taking hormones and has been to multiple psychiatrists who have confirmed several things which point to her desire being true. So, before we go any further, questions?" Butters Stotch raised his hand, "Yes?"

"Is it contagious? I-I don't want to grow a v-vagina." Silence, aside Cartman's laughter. Sheila sternly looked into the direction of it's source, "Liane, your child!" Liane gently smacked the side of her son's face, and he rubbed it angirly.

"Hey, that was abuse, bitch."

"Be quiet, my little pompskidoddle." The town whore said softly to her obese son.

Sheila, angry, raised her voice, "This is what we need to teach against! Transgender children need our support and caring, and having your children be so ill-educated as to what they are leads to intolerance and hate." she calmed herself "But I will let the Painters speak their mind now, so we can start moving forward." She stepped up and the gymnasium doors opened as the Painter family walked in.

Marcus was tall with short brown hair and equally brown eyes; he had a thin build and wore a thick gray buttoned jacket and jeans. His wife, Jill, wore a light brown blouse with long hair to just below her shoulders and blue eyes; Daughter-by-desire Dana was almost shaking with nervousness - her normally gray, wild hair now brown, straightened and down her back, brown eyes and a clean version of her normally dirty light brown jacket and gray pants. She nervously walked up as whispers went around the gymnasium.

"Mom, is he like you?" Cartman whispered.

"She, Eric. And no, I was born with both male and female you-hous. She was born with male, but felt like a female so got a change."

"Ha! What a fag." Cartman laughed, his mom slapping him again to shut him up. Marcus approached the podium.

"Hello, fellow members of the PTA. We have a meeting, an important one for our daughter," he emphasized daughter, "that we must be to in about twenty minutes so I will make this quick. Our daughter has almost always felt this way, ever since she was little. Being how she was born, she always felt depressed and saddened by life in general. So recent events have been uplifting and the decision to go ahead with this was not a hard one. However, we recognize that some of you may not appreciate this, so all I ask is that you allow her to live her life-"

"No worries there, Marcus. We are going to educate everyone on this and make sure that everyone in this room is supportive of your daughter's decision. Speaking of, how about we hear from the little cutie?" Sheila said. Stan grabbed and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

"Stan, what's wrong?" Sharon asked in the crowd.

"I know she is just trying to be nice, but if I was that kid I'd be so embarrassed right now." Dana looked away and shook her head, but Jill prodded her and almost pushed her until she started moving to the podium. She resigned herself to speaking and walked up to the podium.

"Isn't she brave, folks? Give her around of applause." Sheila smiled, stepping away as Dana summed position.

Dana nodded, gulped and let out in a refined female voice, "T-thank you…I guess. I... just want to be how I feel, and this is how I feel. I don't really care what anyone besides my parents thinks of my decision, just please don't make my already hellish existence in school any worse than it is now. Thank you." she stepped down to the same applause.
The Painters briefly spoke with one another and started heading out to go to their meeting.

"So, does anyone have any complaints about this, any concerns about how this will affect the class?" Sheila asked. Silence. Sheila sighed, "I see. Well, I have submitted some proposals to Victoria and perhaps over the coming weeks we can implement them. I will now allow Mr. Mackey to begin speaking about the plans we have for Spring Break."

Mr. Mackey approached the podium as Sheila headed to her seat, "M'kay, thank you Sheila. South Park Elementary will have a party on Friday, m'kay, and as part of the school's commitment to ethics and hard work, m'kay, the students in grades four will be the ones responsible for building the stands…" Mackey continued, the PTA tuning him out as was their practice when he spoke.

"Thank God that didn't last too long." Kyle muttered before Sheila could sit.

Gerald, not noticing his wife sit, said something quite stupid:
"Kyle, you have no idea how annoying she can be-"

"Gerald, do me a favor and repeat what you just said?." Sheila said, readying her right palm.

"I…I love…you?"