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This is gonna be totally cool, you guys.
I'm sorry, detectives, there was nothing we could do.
Get him!
Aww man, this smells like meatloaf. Again?!
Because of you, nobody knows the extent of my deeds.
But I am the serial killer! The one whose rightful place in history you have smirched!
Sorry, Sarge, the psychic's mom says her son hasn't been home for a couple of hours.
and he lives at 621 Castillo Street. He's usually there between seven and eleven p.
Cartman thinks he can fly off of his roof.
Come on, Murph, we've gotta talk to Eric Cartman again!
While the ice-cream store owner was in jail, another murder was commited.
Ah, no, these people claim that they are the "real" psychic detectives.
Wuh be careful, Kyle.
Dude, I really don't think that's a good idea!
I don't know. How do we know this kid is really psychic? I mean, this boy is certainly no Eric Cartman.
I was given my gift from a tragic accident. I didn't need to go to Psychic Detective School.
WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE
We'd better get back to the station, sir.
Call an ambulance.
I see... a man... with a baseball cap.
The magic... of flight!
No.
Oh my God. It's a fried chicken sundae.
Damnit! Damnit all to hell! They just found another body! That means a fifth copycat killer is on the loose!
Do it! Do it!