A/N: Actually a crossover between Simpsons, South Park, Bob's Burgers, and a tiny bit of Rick and Morty and a single nod at Moral Orel if you catch the reference :3

"Won't someone PLEASE think of the children?!" Helen Lovejoy exclaimed in agony while looking at the new movie poster at the Aztec Theater. The movie was aimed at children, but she thought it was too vulgar. She did not think any children should be viewing it.

"Oh my!" came an unfamiliar voice, and when a voice was unfamiliar to Helen, she became suspicious.

She turned and squinted. "Who are you?"

"Oh, I am terribly sorry. My name is Liane Cartman. I am from South Park!"

"Oh, that explains it," Helen muttered, realizing why she couldn't have known the woman. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Helen Lovejoy."

"Hello, Helen," the woman smiled sweetly. She turned back to the movie poster, her eyes a little wide. "I do agree with you; I don't think this movie is really fit for children. My poopsikins might get nightmares!"

"Your what now?"

"My little boy, Eric!" Liane laughed softly, her hand to her mouth.

"If that movie is anything like that Terrence and Philip movie, you know who's to blame!" came yet another unfamiliar voice.

"Are you from South Park, too?" Helen asked.

"Yes, I am! I'm Sheila Broflovski, and I believe we have a case of Canadians on our hands, ladies!" She slammed her fist into her hand.

"Um, come again?" Helen raised an eye.

Suddenly there was a giggle coming from behind them. They turned to see Marge Simpson. "Canadians? There's no Canadians in Springfield!" Suddenly the woman let out a gasp. "Oh, no! Is that the movie my Bart went to see yesterday? . . . Oh, it is! I had no idea what it was."

Helen smirked. "I think we have a case of bad parenting, is what we have."

Marge narrowed her eyes. "Don't get me started on bad parenting, Miss My Daughter is Never with Me."

Helen gasped and then pursed her lips.

"Ladies, please!" Sheila exclaimed. "We don't need your arguing. We need to start a fuss!"

"I'm good at that," Helen stepped forward. "I say we get together a protest."

Sheila started pacing, hardly listening to Helen. "It needs to be big! We need to gather all the parents! We need to make a huge stink! We need to make the biggest, craziest protest this town has ever seen!"

"Sheila, I don't know if that's the best idea," Liane tried to say, knowing just how crazy things she did could get.

"Nonsense! Now we need some explosives."

"Explosives?!" Helen's eyes widened.

"You never know when they might come in handy," Sheila shrugged. "Now let's do this, girls!"

"I beg your pardon!" Helen crossed her arms. "I am the one who runs things around here."

"Sorry, if you want to lead, you've got to be loud! Now, you can either join my protest or you can leave."

Helen let out a low growl but consented, knowing this was important to do whether she led it or not.

As they were marching around chanting, they were getting little to no attention other than a few annoyed passerby. The women of Springfield were quite used to this, but Sheila was getting irritated. "This won't do at all! Does no one listen in this town?!"

"Well, we have protests quite a lot," Marge piped up. "Perhaps they just started to ignore us!"

Sheila got a menacing look on her face as she said quietly, "Perhaps it's time to unleash the explosives."

Liane touched Sheila's shoulder. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

Sheila whipped around. "Then what is your great idea? I don't see you coming up with anything useful!"

Suddenly, another woman that nobody recognized at all walked up. "Oh, wow! Are you doing a protest? How fun! What is it about?"

Helen sighed sharply. "And who are you?"

"I'm Linda Belcher! My family was going around visiting all the crappiest towns for fun, and someone directed us here! It's definitely on the top of the crappy list!" She laughed cheerfully.

Helen raised an eye, bewildered but just shook her head. "As if it were any of your business, we are protesting against this terrible movie they are showing at the theater. It isn't appropriate for our children."

"Oh, that's a dilly of a pickle!" She laughed again, amused with herself. "It's funny because I work at a restaurant that sells burgers!. . . Pickles? Burgers? Eh? Oh wait, you wouldn't know that so it's not funny to you. . . But anyway, listen, you all need a better chant, that's what you need! I can help you out."

"That's hardly necessary," Helen hissed. She was getting annoyed with all of these new women barging in on her protest.

"No, no! It's fine. I don't mind—really! Here we go, um. . . Oh, here!" The woman grabbed a picket sign and started waving it around, chanting, "We don't want your stupid smut, take it and shove it up your butt! While we adults don't give a frick, our kids don't need to see your dicks! They don't need to see the boobies so please take 'em out of your movie!"

Helen's eye twitched, Marge's jaw dropped, Sheila's eyebrows raised, and Liane said, "Oh my!"

"Thanks for the tip, lady!" A group of teenagers ran up to the ticket booth to purchase tickets for the movie. "Hell yeah; I can't wait to see me some boobs!"

"Look what you did!" Helen exclaimed. "You just encouraged them! Get out!"

Linda shrugged. "Alright, alright, I'll go help out some other crappy town's protest. No biggee!"

Helen was so flustered from what they just saw as she turned back to the group. "That woman is terrible."

"Oh, she was only trying to help," Marge said, though she was just as bewildered, in all honesty.

"It's time for plan B," Sheila said quietly.

"Plan B?" Helen raised an eye.

"We're bringing out the explosives."

"Those are banned here because of Bart Simpson." Helen turned to Marge and chuckled a little. "Oh, sorry."

"Well, I will think of something. I will make a fuss, I will be heard. I am Sheila Broflovski, and I will have my way!"

"Why do you even care? They're not your children," Helen pursed her lips.

Sheila turned slowly to Helen and spoke in a low voice. "I'm not doing it for the children. I'm doing it for justice."