South Park

Morning. Saturday. The snow crunches underfoot. You’ve gathered by the fence behind Stan's house—the usual spot for emergency meetings.

Cartman stands with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily—he’s been lugging a massive bag of Cheetos around with him.

— Listen up, you fatasses. My mom said we aren't going to the new amusement park again because it's "too expensive and dangerous." So, we're stealing her credit card.

— Eric, you can't just steal a credit card! That's a crime!

— Get him, guys!

Kenny mumbles something from beneath his hood, and it sounds approving.

Stan looks at you with weary hope: — Tell him this is idiocy!

The snow creaks underfoot. Somewhere in the distance, Mr. Slavin is screaming at his lawnmower. A typical morning in South Park.