Chef: I'm very proud of you, children. Let's all go home and find a nice white woman to make love to.
Stan: Yeah, and Kenny didn't die!
Kenny: (muffled) Yeah, and I didn't die- (pukes out his intestines and dies)
Stan: Holy sh- I mean, poop.
Kyle: Yeah. Poop.
Cartman: I love you guys...
Kyle: Chef, do you know where "shit" comes from?
Chef: Uh, from your ass, children.
Principal: Hello, boys.
Stan: Wait, what's going on here?
Kyle: Alright look, we don't know for sure why Cartman is ditching school, but it has something to do with abortions.That's all we know.
Mr. Mackey: You didn't do anything wrong, boys; We just need to talk to you. Have a seat.
(Stan and Kyle sit down)
Mr. Mackey: Well boys, your little friend, Kenny, went to the hospital last night, m'kay? And well...he's pretty sick.
Kyle: Kenny's sick?
Stan: Well, how sick?
Chef: Children, Kenny has been diagnosed with a terminal disease.
Stan: But the doctor's are gonna make him better, right?
Sharon: Oh, dear.
Stan But mom, that's what hospitals are for, they can make him better.
Sharon: Oh, Randy.
Randy: They don't think so, Stanley. Your friend is terminally ill, and that means--well son...that means he's gonna be going to Heaven soon.
Kyle: Wait, Kenny's going to die?
Gerald: He might, Kyle.
Stan: But he's our f-f-friend.
Mr. Mackey: We know, and that's why he's going to need you boys to be strong for him, m'kay? He needs you now, more then ever.
Stan: No! This can't happen! Kenny can't die! Kenny can't die!
(Stan begins sobbing into his dad's shoulder)
Stan: Hey Chef.
Chef: How's it going?
Chef: Yeah. Things have been better.
Stan: Why would God let Kenny die, Chef? Why? Kenny's my fr-f-f-friend.
Chef: Stan, sometimes God takes those closest to us.
Stan: But then, why does God give us anything to start with?
Chef: Well, look at it this way: if you want to make a baby cry, first you give it a lollipop.
Stan: I think I understand.
Stan: But Chef, when IS the right time for us to start having sex?
Chef: It's very simple, children; The right time to start having sex isseventeen.
Sheila: So, you mean seventeen as long as you're in love?
Chef: Nope, just seventeen.
Gerald: But what if you're not ready at seventeen?
Chef: Seventeen. You're ready.
Chef: Look, schools are teaching condom use to younger and younger students each day! But sex isn't something that should be taught in textbooks and diagrams. Sex is emotional and spiritual. It needs to be taught by family. I know it can be hard, parents, but if you leave it up to the schools to teach sex to kids, you don't know who they're learning it from. It could be from someone who doesn't know, [pans to Mr. Mackey] someone who has a bad opinion of it, [pans to Ms. Choksondik] or even a complete pervert. [pans to Mr. Garrison]
Mr. Garrison: What? Why did you pan to me just now? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Chef: Hello there, children.
Boys: Hey, Chef.
Chef: How is sexual-education class coming?
Stan: It's dumb. Mister Mackey isn't teaching us anything.
Chef: Yeah, I don't think ol' Mackey knows a hymen from a hysterectomy. And Ms. Choksondik? I'd be surprised she's ever been laid in her life.
Kyle: Yeah. Chef, what's "laid"?
Chef: Oh, nothing. Now move along, children, you're holding up the line.
Stan: Chef, what's a prostitute?
Chef: Dag-nabbit children! How come every time you come in here you've got to be asking me questions I shouldn't be answering? "Chef, what's a clitoris? What's a lesbian, Chef? How come they call it a rim job Chef?". For once, can't you kids come in here and say "Hey Chef, nice day isn't it"?
Stan:Hey Chef, nice day isn't it?
Chef: It sure is, thank you.
Chef: But a prostitute is someone who would love you,
No matter who you are, or what you look like.
Yes, it's true, children.
That's not why you pay a prostitute,
No, you don't pay her to stay; you pay her to leave afterwards.
That's why I pay's a lot for prostitutes! Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. James Taylor.
James Taylor: A prostitute is like any other woman,
They all trade something for sex and they do it well.
Chef: And that's why I say-
Chef and James Taylor: Prostitutes! Prostitutes! They-
Chef: Oohhhh (sees Principal Victoria) James Taylor, what the hell are you doing in here?! Singing about prostitutes to the children! Get out of here! (Principal Victoria gives Chef an evil look) These children tricked me!
Jimbo: Chef, what about the baseball team, the Cleveland Indians, huh? Should they change their name because it's racist?
Chef: Hey, Mackey! Sign up to march on Wednesday?
Mr. Mackey: Oh, Wednesday? Wednesday's tough. I guess- maybe I could do somethin' uh, Thursday afternoon.
Chef: Alright, fudge it, Thursday. Anyone else wanna go Thursday?
Principal Victoria: Thursday's no good, we've got choir council.
Mr. Mackey: Oh, yeah.
Principal Victoria: What about next Sunday?
Chef: Fine! Next Sunday!
Man 1: You mean, during the ball game?
Man 2: Oh, yeah. We can't do Sunday.
Principal Victoria: Oh, I can't do Monday.
Man: I could do Tuesday.
Mr. Mackey: Yeah, Tuesday morning's good.
Woman: You know what would be better for me is Saturday afternoon.
Man 2: Saturday is perfect for me.
Principal Victoria: Yeah. How about Saturday at 11:30?
Man 3: That sounds good.
Man 2: Yep.
Mr. Mackey: Yeah, I think that's the best day.
Chef: Okay! On Saturday, we march!
Man 2: Oh, march? What are we marching for?
Chef: To bring down the South Park Flag!
(People start walking away)
Man: Oh, I gotta go.
Chef: Thanks to you, we have children that like Phil Collins!
Pharmaceuticalist: Phil Collins?
Chef: That's right! You made them so dull and boring that they're actually going to go see a Phil Collins concert!
Pharmaceuticalist: Oh my God...it can't be...Phil Collins... (shudders)