The next morning at the bus stop, Cartman was different. Every time he opened his mouth to insult Kyle, his voice came out as a series of rhythmic, electronic chirps. "Hey, fatass," Stan said tentatively. "You okay?"
Kyle, Stan, and Kenny watched in frozen horror. A metallic, saucer-shaped craft descended, silent as a grave. A hatch spiraled open, and a mechanical arm—topped with a glistening, oversized chrome nozzle—extended toward Cartman’s backside. Fire it up, the machine seemed to pulse.
"Whatever, Cartman," Kyle sighed. "Let's just go to school." If you'd like to see more of South Park, I can: Cartman Gets an Anal Probe
"I am fine, you guys," Cartman replied, but as he spoke, a thirty-foot satellite dish slowly unfurled from his rectum, tearing through his red jacket and green pants. It swiveled toward the sky, clicking and whirring with lethal precision.
The ships shuddered. The aliens, apparently offended by the primitive and gaseous nature of the broadcast, turned their fleet around and vanished into the stratosphere. The next morning at the bus stop, Cartman was different
"Man, I had the weirdest dream about a giant taco that crapped ice cream," he muttered, completely unaware that he had just saved the world from an interstellar invasion.
The sky over South Park was a bruised purple as the four boys stood at the bus stop, their breath hitching in the frigid Colorado air. Eric Cartman was mid-rant, his voice a shrill grating whistle, when the atmosphere shifted. A hum, low and vibrating in their teeth, rattled the nearby pine trees. "You okay
Suddenly, a beam of blinding, neon-blue light tore through the clouds. It struck Cartman dead center. He was hoisted three feet off the ground, his small limbs flailing like an overturned beetle.