Welcome aboard our sinking ship! We have cookies!
-Sybil
No covfefe, if you like reading these tall tales of the Moroniverse, consider buying Sybil a Ko-Fi.
That way CRASS can update their computers from Enigma machines attached to a parakeet cages.
Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble has to go for her anal probe next week. Her friend will abduct her to see Dr. Cartman and she will be pretty spaced out. No, she will not get a satellite installed, instead they will just be looking for hemorrhoids on Huranus and to remove any asteroids.
Owned by Kankakee barfly and inventor of useless crap Mr. Walter Augustine Green, these Illinois stores are best known for the overstaffing of their sales floors and the understaffing of their pharmacies. Find Wally’s wacky wares in a store near you!
Coming soon to Brandon’s Imbecile Machines:
Imbecile Tractors!
Brandon Dixon wants to add a lawn and garden division to his Imbecile Machine shop in Kankakee. What do you think?
(photo from https://www.wideopencountry.com/30-tricked-tractors-defy-practicality/)
Two-timing Rachel Shelley came over from Detroit to meet her OKStupid lover, Damien Hurlbutt, only to cheat on him with Kankakee heroin addict and useless hoser Leon Peeonne.
Cinema clerk, neckbeard, and communal narcissist Damien continues to leave “M’lady” messages from his flip phone. He thinks he is going to win because he is such a “tenderheart” and “an old soul.”
Live, Laugh or Love?
Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran swoops down on her Manteno, Illinois bog-witch daughter Bernadette Moran Cacca, just to waste her time.
“What ya looking at?” the communal narcissist, Bern, asks her raging narc-a-holic mother.
“Nothin’ much!” Carla replies like a schoolyard child.
“No really, there is nothing original about you,” Carla squawks into Bern’s face and then flies away back to Albion, Indiana.
Bernadette plots out revenge on her mother and everyone else who she has ever met, on a mission to seek supply after that narcissistic injury she received. Then she poops.
“Get back in the kitchen, this pot is about to boil over!” Madeline Topolla-Teirant calls out to her husband, Konrad “Kon” Teirant who is reading the CRASS company ledger in the washroom.
Kon washes his hands, flicks the water on the floor (a trick he had learned from Teirant Cinema-13 clerk Damien Hurlbutt) and struts into the kitchen. He sets the ledger atop a shelf in the cupboard.
“Madeline, I can do this myself. No need to tell me how to cook. Go on and watch the kiddos.” Konrad gestures Madeline to leave the room.
Konrad stirs the pot of his turkey soup. He made sure to put in loads of veggies because they cost less than turkey. Konrad hears a loud banshee-esque squeal come from the living room and dashes out.
“Bratley? What are you doing?” Konrad walks over to him.
“Waaaaaaaaaah! I want my toys!”
Konrad yells at Bratley because he has little patience for children. He only had them because he can. He usually leaves the parenting to his wife Madeline because he would rather make money. Meanwhile chaos unfolds in the kitchen.
Chanel # 6 and * climb up the kitchen counters, tear up the CRASS ledger into a confetti mess and put the flakes into the soup like they are special spices. They hear their daddy coming so the close the cover of the book back up and place it back on the cupboard shelf so they do not get in trouble.
“I told you kids not to play on the kitchen counters! Now go do your homework or you are going to bed without any supper!”
Kon begins stirring the pot.
The next morning, all of CRASS is sent a company email to announce the new CRASS initiave:
From: Teirant, Konrad (konteirant@crass-llc.con)
To: CRASS, LLC (all-crass-l@crass-ll.con)
Subject: Food for everyone!
Dear CRASS employees:
It is with great pleasure I announce the newest CRASS publicity initiave: Triple down on each call to raise money for the new CRASS Stage! If we raise enough money to name the Kankakee Senior Center stage after us, we can help promote CRASS, LLC as a community leader.
To help celebrate our new publicity effort, I brought in turkey soup, enough for everybody this time! Enjoy! Be sure to only log off during your designated 15 minute breaks to enjoy my cooking.
Most importantly, remember to ask each debtor for three times what they can afford to pay! Submit a Form 5 for each triple-down. Each bonus will go toward the stage-naming initiative to make CRASS look good, instead of your paycheck. You do want to keep your job, right?
Happy Monday!
Konrad Teirant
“Want some soup?” Dale asks Sybil. “I’ll spoon feed it to you,” a hopeful Dale says with a grin.
“Go away, Dale. I have work to do,” Sybil snarks as she downs a dog biscuit at her desk.
Dale slurps his soup at his desk before he logs onto the autodialer.
Operations Manager Mike Philps helps himself to two bowls while he watches the collectors stress out over asking for three times what the debtors can afford.
“Why aren’t these folks making production?” a stern Tara Bull asks Sybil Kibble as Tara sips some greasy turkey soup.
“I will keep on pushing for those Triple Downs and Form 5s.” Sybil tells a beleagueured Tara.
Kon sits in his office surfing Fakebook Flat-Earth pages as well as the Qannon droppings. He feels his belly begin to rumble. “Must be a quake of this flat planet,” Kon says to himself as he gets up.
A line forms outside the CRASS washrooms. Tara Bull joins the queue. “Why are people taking so long?” Tara mumbles under her breath.
A stench wafts from the mens’ room. Konrad emerges.
“Did I do that?” Kon slyly asks. The lined-up employees giggle.
CRASS Chief Mack. E. Avelli walks over the the office of Mike Philips to order fixed the toilet Kon clogged.
Since Kon’s idea failed miserably, he took the rest of his greasy, tainted turkey soup to Teirant Cinema-13 to “treat” his employees there.
“Ooooh, thank ya boss! Well actually, I just constipated myself by eating six antacids in a row so I do not have to use the toitie all night!” a certain clerk named Damien Hurlbutt excitedly tells Kon.
“Thanks for the information. Enjoy and get to work.”
Damien drinks the soup right down.
“Ahhhhh.”
“Puttt” goes Damien’s butt.
“Pardon me. Pheeeeeww!”
Damien’s stomach begins to grumble, really grumble. Damien gets up, ripping more farts as he walks and does the Scoot-And-Poot to blast as much gas he possibly can.
Konrad looks for Damien and he is not at the ticket counter.
“Where are you Damien? People are lining up and they need to buy their tickets. Imma gon fire you if you do not come back!”
A stench wafts from the men’s room.
“Nevermind…”
“I’ll give ya a free ticket if you come watch it with me, M’lady…” Damien Hurlbutt would say with a tip of his fedora, before he got canned.
Bourbonnais narcissist, neckbeard and pool-toy enthusiast Damien Hurlbutt, working the concession stand at Cinema-13, tries to sell a customer some “Non-Parallels”
“Do you mean nonpareils?”
“Oh, these are non-parallels.”
“I will just get some popcorn with butter then.”
In walks a rather foul-smelling couple.
“Hey, can I speak to the manager?” Manteno communal narcissist, Optimal Club accordion-player and port-o-dump partner Bernadette Moran Cacca asks Damien.
“OK Karen. He’s busy,” Damien says in his usual monotone voice, not even looking at Bern, too concerned with filling popcorn and listening to the copier in the back office create a pile of ticket facsimiles so he can hopefully woo women with them.
“We have a meeting at 2 to discuss advertising our porto potty business with a Mr. Konrad…Teeerant?”
“I know, I know. It’s Teirant. Rhymes with ‘tyrant.’ Walk over to that door and knock.” The bulbous neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt points to the door simply marked “Manager” getting a glimpse of Bernadette Cacca’s behind as she and her husband Peppi make their way toward Konrad’s office. An evil grin fills Damien Hurlbutt’s face, with bedroom eyes to match.
After the meeting, Bern, Peppi and Konrad emerge. Bern beelines toward the washroom, pinches a massive loaf, and stares at it in awe. She is so proud of her creation, almost afraid to flush it down. Since she has nowhere to burn it at the multiplex, she reluctantly pushes the handle and washes her hands in the sink. At least she did that. Damien ogles Bern’s round bum as she and her beau Peppi exit the theater.
“Fill up those popcorn bags!” Konrad commands his clerk Damien. “Friday I expect to make big bags at the release of the new rom-com. We partnered with our advertisers to increase the bottom-line. This one’s gonna be a game-changer. Make me a sign.”
“Yep.” Damien heads to the back office to draw and make more color copies of movie tickets on the company’s budget.
While working on the sign, Damien’s brother Robbie calls his flip phone. Thinking it’s one of the many OKStupid ladies he messaged, he answers.
“Hey honey!”
“Damien, it’s Robbie, you dork.”
“Sorry.”
“Can you get me a job at the theater? Wally’s cuttin’ back my hours again.”
“Maybe. Hey, there’s this cute chick coming in Friday for the new premiere.”
“Groovy. Can I meet her?”
“She’s married. But I have first dibs.”
“Riiiight.”
“Hey, I got a free ticket if you wanna come down.”
“Do you think your boss will let me work with you? If you really love your brother you will ask your manager. It’s really selfish of you not.”
“Come down and see the film. Friday night.”
“Later.” Damien and Robbie disconnect…for now.
Peppi and Bern Cacca are loafing away inside their run-down shack in Manteno.
“These maxi pad commercials always come on when I am watching TV. This is Star Trek. Men watch this show,” Peppi whinges.
“Hey Pep. I got this handy-dandy new laundry basket. Would you like to come with me to the laundromat?”
“Why? Bern, I try to help and you won’t let me.”
“Oh come along for the company. You’re fragile. I can do it all. Maybe you can hold doors for me while I haul all our laundry in.”
“So I can watch? Yeah, no. I am busy.”
Peppi walks into his bedroom to get away from his wife, lights up the skunkiest joint he’s got and guzzles moonshine.
It’s showtime. In walks Bern Cacca wearing her accordion over her Peppi’s Portopotties shirt, bearing the caption “King & Queen of the Throne.”
“Hey, Bern. We have changed our mind about your advertising strategy. We think playing accordion while Peppi raps about portopotties is not a good idea,” Cinema-13 owner Konrad Teirant tells Bernadette Cacca.
“Oh, Peppi stayed home. I wanna belt some crappy show-tunes instead.”
“It does not take a genius to figure out that we both need to make money. Sing at home, preferably with the windows shut. We designed a new ad, and we think you’ll like it. It will play halfway through the movie. A new rom-com premieres tonight, “Steamy Love.” We expect a big bag from a big turnout. Your seat is on me.
“Hey M’lady. Would you like some popcorn?” theater clerk and neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt calls out to Bern Cacca.
“I’m good, thanks. What a lovely theater you have!”
“Aww, shucks. Hey M’lady, Madame. What is this lovely lady doing when the film lets out? I can get you free tickets if you meet me at the Gaslight Bar.”
“I’m busy.”
Bern heads to her seat, excited to see all the theater patrons, and tries to make friends with as many as possible, hugging, shaking hands, and calling them “darling”. Bern thinks she’s everybody’s friend, and reminds the crowd of all the favors she does for charity and her enablers.
The film begins to roll.
At intermission, the new ad for Peppi’s Portopotties plays, interrupting a scene depicting two people kissing, and a prominent plot point. Will the lady choose her secret lover or go back to her husband?
“Let’s all go to the washroom
Let’s all go to the washroom.
Let’s all go to the washroom,
And take ourselves a dump.”
The patrons run to the restrooms, but not to crap or whizz.
They barf up the popcorn, candy and pop, for which they overpaid at the concession stand.
Too nauseous to stay for the ending, the crowd of moviegoers leaves Teirant Cinema-13 in droves.
An angry Bern Cacca leaves the multiplex, worrying about her squeaky-clean image as a singing fool who raises money for the Manteno Optimal Club, and gives rides to friends because she loves to look good.
“Hey honey puddin’ — what are you doing right now?” the bulbous concessions clerk Damien Hurlbutt asks Bern Cacca as she passes the ticket counter.
“I have a date. I’m leaving you guys.”
“With me, my dainty queen?”
“No, you moron.”
“How about me?” pops up Damien’s brother Robbie Hurlbutt, emerging from seemingly nowhere.
“No, with JB, the Turd Burglar.”
Frowns fill the faces of the Hurlbutts, while a devilish grin fills that of Bern Cacca as she embraces the neighborhood Turd Burglar, who has been waiting for her in the parking lot.
Konrad Teirant counts his ticket sales, all smiles because he does not plan to offer refunds. He had made his big bag and takes it home to lie in it, spreading the cash all over his bed, rolling around in it and over it like a dog.
Manteno communal narc-a-doodle, entramanure and poopyburner Bernadette “Bern” Moran Cacca had got in Gothic Diana Ross’ face and screamed at her, saying that “she’s sick of her and her spoiled brat personality,” and calling her “stupid, lazy and stuck-up” after eavesdropping on her talking about her job working as a veterinary technician. Apparently, Bernadette fails to comprehend that a vet tech is a freaking nurse for animals, and that it’s not nice to listen in on other people’s conversations. Bern is a moron.
When Di walks away, choosing not to engage, Bern tells her to go tattle to her mother “like she always does.” Yeah…no.
“I just said I wasn’t going to be treated like that,” Diana tells the other Midnight Supremes Gothic Flo and Gothic Mary.
“She said that she hates me and she can destroy me. I just left. And she was drunk. This is a woman who hasn’t even left the country, can’t speak another language, can barely read, yet she throws shade behind the scenes when she’s not kissing the butts of her friend collection. She called me irresponsible for listening to the vet over her. She works at a portapotty company when she is not singing cover tunes for charity, tips and giggles. Why should I listen to her? She’s a volunteer. Not a vet. She thinks she knows everything, and that she’s God’s gift to Manteno.”
Bernadette peels her turdmobile out her driveway, over to the Kankakee Riverview district, hoping to race. After the drivers start heckling Bern, she joins the side-show to heckle the drivers who have rejected her. Bern needs to get better hobbies.
Bern uses her butt-trumpet to shame the drivers she does not like. She feels so proud of every fart with which her cheeks part. The hecklers turned violent, turning over a minivan driven by a woman and her two kids. Police catch on to what Bern and the rest of the sideshow kids are doing, and catch up to the three-ring-circus.
Bern gets arrested and charged. Terrified about her reputation, she makes a phone call to her aunt and promoter Sonya Marie Smith Moran, who does not answer.
“Can I pay in Craptocoin? I just mined them myself, the old fashioned way, from NFTs! Newly Formed Turds,” Bernadette asks the bailiff.
“You’re an idiot, Bernadette.”
Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Sonya Moran is standing behind one of the low-income apartment complexes she operates, talking to her sister-in-law and bird of a feather Carla.
“I’m running,” Sonya tells Carla over FaceCall.
“I did not know you could jog.”
“I got another job. I don’t interact with people much there.”
“How many people did you tick off?”
“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to work.”
The Albion, Indiana WallyWorld self-checkout clerk self-rates her store 5/5 stars as Kitty Bee gathers her groceries and receipt. She calls her out on it.
They had stopped doing that awhile back ago and now they are up to their old antics again. Kitty grabs a candy bar, scans it, and pays, saying aloud to the moronic clerk: “I am turning your five into a three as I rate you a one,” making sure to look her in dead in the eye. She then reports the clerk’s ego-inflation to the Manager On Duty.
“I have done my good deed for the day,” Kitty says to herself as she drives home.
“Sure, honey, I’ll bail you out,” Sonya says with a smile in the WallyWorld washroom. Enjoying her new job, the president of The Poopy Groupies savors the idea of enabling crappy behavior. Then she takes a dump.
“Sonya, I need a word with you,” manager Eduardo tells his new employee, as she emerges from the ladies’ room.
“Your behavior is unacceptable.”
“What did I do wrong?”
“I think you know what you did,” Eduardo says, pointing to the self-checkout area. “I don’t need your services here any more. You are dismissed.”
Sonya is frozen in place, shocked by the unexpected news.
Meanwhile, her phone rings rings away, playing kazoo-covers of show-tunes, much to the dismay of all the customers shopping at Sonya’s very busy former place of employment.
“God hates cats and he hates demoncrats!” Sonya screams as she gets yeeted by WallyWorld security, squawking and flapping her wings all the way home.
MoronicArts 
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