Wife of Brandon Dixon – owner of Brandon’s Imbecile Machine – and mother to his kids; Pris Dixon is highly nosy, butts into strangers’ business out of pure ennui. She had been best friends with shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Sonya Marie Smith Moran, until she had flown the coop.
She needs to get better hobbies.
Pris works as a Medical Office Assistant for her father-in-law Kankakee Ears, Nose, and Throat specialist Dr. Eddie Dixon, and as a store clerk at Archangel’s Craft Stores. She has a reputation for gaslighting patients and customers just to confuse them.
Police refuse to let her victims press charges, save for once, stating Pris “is just mentally ill.” Yes, acting like a sociopath is a mental problem, which causes her victims to seek treatment.
“You’re crazy, the only one on the bus whoever starts problems!” — Pris Dixon gaslighting her verbal and physical abuse targets
Pris proudly drives a green imbecile machine given to her by Brandon, branded with “You just got passed by a girl” decals.
Pris was raised by wealthy parents who gave her everything she wanted. Pris feels that, because she is a parent, she should cut in line at the cafes and burger joints. She dislikes the child-free by choice and gets her kicks by invalidating their feelings. Pris feels that only parents can make a valid point, and that life does not begin until you become a mother or father.
Psychic Vampyre Missy Rabbit is busy checking the emails sent to Scary Barry’s School of Mixed Moronic Arts in Albion, Indiana.
“Hey Barry. Elen is complaining that you’re not accommodating her in your classes. Something about a disability.”
“I. Don’t. Like. That.”
“What would you like me to do?”
“Just shoot her an email.”
“I’m not good at writing.”
“Use AI then. I can’t have another liability.”
Missy looks for AI programs on the internet. As she learns more, she is interrupted by a commercial, because of course!
New at your neighborhood corner Wally’s! Attach this Turd Gauge to your Turd Machines and Turd Machine Deluxe to count your turd supply. When your machine runs low on poopies, the ghost of a Chrysler LeBaron will tell you “more turds are needed” every 30 seconds.
Buy one, get one half off (butt never free)
Try our new Artificial Idiocracy (AI) program: Cat-GPT! Just let your cat walk over the keyboard and Cat-GPT will do the rest!
Missy Rabbit calls over to Wally Green’s after seeing his commercial on the internet. Of course, nobody answers the phone and she is sent into the on-hold abyss. Deciding not to wait, she contacts Pantherware after reading some examples on the company web site:
Want to discriminate against your employees while making it look like you care? Try Pat-GPT! Here are some example messages generated for our satisfied customers!
I’d like to confirm that, after reviewing the situation, the only other store we are able to offer at the moment is similar in size to the one you have previously worked. Therefore, transferring would not result in a smaller store.
You would, however, be very welcome to have a private conversation with me before joining, so that any concerns can be discussed and expectations set clearly for everyone in advance. We are more than happy to arrange this.
However, it is important for me to be clear about one point: your previous supervisor has already made adjustments that go beyond what is considered reasonable within business needs. Unfortunately, it is not possible to offer additional adjustments without significantly impacting profit and production.
If you would like to discuss anything further or explore alternative options, please feel free to get in touch. Regards, Wally Green
Thank you for your messages. I appreciate your honesty and the personal context you shared. I want to confirm that we have discussed the matter with Sybil Kibble and have had a conversation about the situation you raised.
We work in line with the terms and conditions of Credit Recovery Associates, which are available on our website. These terms emphasize the need to maintain a positive and safe working environment for everyone, ensuring fairness for the whole group as well as considering individual needs.
I fully understand that the personal situation you’ve described is very difficult, and I sympathize with the stress and uncertainty you’re experiencing. However, it’s important to be clear and fair: our company cannot provide the level of individual support you outlined—such as being taken aside during a personal crisis or being allowed to use the washroom outside of planned breaks. Collectors must maintain the flow of receivables and ensure the wellbeing of the whole company, and sometimes that means taking quick action, such as muting a microphone when needed, to keep the debtor on the phone.
We do our best to offer reasonable adjustments where practical, but we naturally have our limitations. As a result, this position may not offer the personal support or the direct, immediate intervention you are looking for. This would also be the case if we were to transfer you to another department.
I hope this explains the situation in a fair and honest way.
Missy downloads Pat-GPT and prompts it to barf up this email:
Thank you for your e-mails and I’m sorry to have missed your calls yesterday. I’m more than happy to talk to you over the phone, but I’m not sure what else I can do to help at the moment as I can only assist with general questions and unable to resolve this for you. I’m sure you can appreciate from Barry’s email, he has been apologetic and she is trying his utmost to find a positive outcome and to ensure your feelings are considered in order to move forward.
As previously mentioned, moving to a different course provider may prove difficult due to class numbers and availability. Joining a new class at this late stage may also cause you additional stress which we would want to avoid.
Postponing your learning for the rest of this term and start afresh with a different course provider in September may be the best option forward. If you were to do this, I do have to emphasize that the class structure would be pretty much be the same as what you experienced with Scary Barry’s School of Mixed MoronicArts – this decision will be entirely yours to consider. We be starting new classes at our Noble County dojo here in September.
Regards, Barry Reynolds Owner, Scary Barry’s School of Mixed MoronicArts Albion, Indiana 46701
Needless to say, the student isn’t happy. Elen files a discrimination complaint with the Indiana Education Bureau. She then makes a video complaint on Utube which goes viral, catching media attention.
Sybil Kibble also notices, since her name is on one of the messages she had never sent. She calls Wally Green to clarify, however her calls keep going to voicemail jail. Wally Green ignores his phone because he is busy singing crappy karaoke at the Manteno Optimal Club:
You can dookie in the morning You can dookie in the night You can dookie in the toilet You can dookie in the box
If you drop one in the toilet Then you gotta wipe your butt If you poopie in the cat box Then ya gotta scoop it up
Dookie, baby! Dookie, baby (Dookie! Dookie!)
Dookie, baby! Dookie, baby (Dookie! Dookie!)
Drop that deuce!
In walks Sybil Kibble.
“Wally, great job singing. Now what’s the deal with your AI slop program?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“No, not you? Someone has been using AI to send messages pretending to be me!”
Sybil displays the video on her phone to Wally.
“I sell Cat-GPT. That was Pat-GPT. Call Pat Splatt. Nevermind, I will call him myself since he had false personated me too!”
Wally calls Pat, who of course does not answer. He’s too busy taking a steamy bath with his pool toy friends.
A news van with Indiana tags pulls up to the Manteno Optimal Club.
“Hello, Kitty Bee news reporter here doing a story on education discrimination. May I have a word with you?”
“Hey Kitty. Why is my name on some crappy web site email thingy?”
“You tell me.”
“I didn’t write that email.”
“Neither did I!” exclaims Wally Green.
“Do you know how it got there?” Kitty asks.
“Ask Pat Splatt over at that Pantherware computer company down on Lois Street in Kankakee.”
Missy Rabbit is watching the news at her Albion, Indiana apartment.
“Hey! That’s me! I wrote that email! Then I went bowling last night and got a 69 in two games!”
Missy calls the news to tell them all about it, bowling game and all.
“Hey Mr. Jones, you have a sexy voice.”
‘Okay, Missy. Thank you for the tip.”
Missy rambles on as the newsroom staff writer hangs up the phone.
Within days, a new news story emerges at 10:00 PM:
To celebrate her birthday month, bog witch, communal narcadoodle and portapotty empress Bernadette M Cacca plans to fly down to DC so she can drop a deuce in the only toilet large enough to fit all her turds!
Beaming across the Western Russian airwaves, from our station in Agalatovo, you’re listening to Russia’s most boring radio station! All buzz, all the time, UVB-76: THE BUZZER!
“Come and get your commemorative Craptocoins, mined the old-fashioned way! One side will feature his bigly buttcrack, the other will be adorned by a tiny mushroom surrounded by a bunch of bent carrots. Celebrate my birthday month in style with these wonderful works o ‘fart!”
— Bernadette Moran Cacca, portapotty empress, narcadoodle and swamp witch
“Here I sit all broken-hearted, tried to crap but only farted,” a forlorn Bernadette “Bern” Cacca sings on her porcelain throne, practicing kazoo and accordion. She lights a fart, burns her doodoo in the fireplace, then makes a call to a Northwestern Illinois bar on her smell phone.
“Poopy’s.”
“Hi, my name is Bernadette Cacca. I’m a famous singer near Chicago.”
The bartender giggles.
“I have a wonderful offer to make your bar.”
“May…I take your order?”
“I would like to open a Poopy’s here in Manteno.”
“I thought you were from Chicago!”
The bartender continues to giggle as he hangs up on Bern.
To increase her bottom line of attention, money and bootlickers, communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette offers to sing and play her accordion cover songs at a charity event to raise money for the victims of the Russian war against Ukraine. She dreams about all the praise, awards and photo opportunities she can gain from making it look like she cares. She does not raise money for this or any other cause because she feels concerned about the efforts of living beings trying to stay alive, fighting or fleeing a psychopath trying to take over their beautiful country. She just loves to pretend.
Bern heads home from a long day working her and her husbands’ business Peppi’s Portapotties, excited to burn the porta-poopies in her fireplace, only to be interrupted by a phone call.
“Hi, Bernadette…ummm…Cake-Uh?”
“Cacca.”
“Yeah, I am calling about your gig at the Gaslight Bar tomorrow night.”
“Oh hiiii! I am THRILLED about playing this extraordinary gig at 7:00 tomorrow night.”
“Good. We are calling to tell you about a slight time change. Due to staffing shortages, we need to move your gig back an hour.”
“I am a pillar of the community and a national treasure! Your tone is not appropriate for someone doing business. I would get used to people like me.”
“So are you coming or not? We have other guests who want to play and help—“
“Okay, okay, see you tomorrow. Don’t forget it!”
Bern teams up with local cybercrook Pat Splatt to develop her pretend money Craptocoin. The bum-waste-bin overlord thinks it is cute to sell Craptocoin at the charity event and decides she will solicit tips using her funny money.
“Hello Manteno! Thank you all for coming! Let’s raise some money! Gimme your requests! CraptoCoin only, my handle is @BMCacca! Maybe you already doing it, and that’s awesome!
ALSO, a shout-out to my extraordinary hairdresser @lilacroule from Croule, Young and Lovely who keep me lookin’ good! AND, my makeup by fabulous @marigoldyoung! So much love to their salon. Practices are things done more than one time regularly, and I have been practicing hard for tonight’s fundraiser! That’s why I call them practices!”
“And…without further ado, give it up for the Manteno Wonder herself, Mrs. Bernadette Cacca!”
A slow clap is heard, mixed in with hoots and hollers from Bern’s obsessed fanboys.
After finishing her last accordion cover tune for the first half of her set, “My Fart Goes Boom”, Bern runs to the washroom, humming “Let’s all go to the restroom” as she poops and farts.
Mrs. Cacca emerges, approached by a Chicago television reporter.
“Hi Bern. I would like to interview you. We got a press release—“
“Not now, after.”
“I have other stories to cover. Let’s do this now.”
“The show must go on.”
“I am from Ukraine and have family there.”
“Fair enough, let’s do this interview up on stage. We will both look awesome up there!” Bernadette gushes.
The Chicago TV reporter enters stage right, Bernadette stage left. Reporter Elena Emm stops to remember her questions so she can begin her interview.
An impatient Bernadette sighs loudly, whistles and hums.
“Why are you staring off into space? Are you in a fantasy world?” Bern snarks, snickers, thinking only Elena can hear her.
“I am blind,” the reporter advises the oblivious Bernadette, unaware a camera operator is filming the entire interview.
“Here let me touch your face,” the ableist and ignorant Bern belittles the Chicago TV news reporter, reaching for her face.
Elena knocks Bernadette unconscious with a single blow to her piehole, then proceeds to yeet her into the crowd of bootlickers.
“This show is getting entertaining” Gothic Diana Ross says to her bandmates, The Midnight Supremes, who are waiting in the wings.
“I may be visually impaired, but I’m not stupid” Elena Emm says to the crowd who had poured in to find out where their entertainer Bernadette had gone, only to have that communal narcadoodle chucked right into a pile of them, knocking the fanboys over like a set of bowling pins. Strike!
Happy she got a scoop on the poop-mistress extraordinaire, Elena and the news team head back to Chicago to produce their segment for the next morning’s newscast.
“Next up, give a hand for these lovely ladies, Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes!” announces the emcee, who had called the Manteno girl group last minute to replace their annoying neighbor Bern Cacca on the bill.
“This is like something straight outta Hell!” Scientists react to a computer simulation animating captured neckbeard narcadoodle Damien Hurlbutt’s farts lit afire, targeting and destroying enemy aircraft like never seen before, in one of the USA’s many unnecessary wars.
“Damien, we just might finally get you out outta here!”
“Whohohumhuhwhatwhat?”
“This new technology will save American taxpayers a lot of money! We’ll just put Damien on every destroyer…”
“Uh-I can only be in one place at a time.”
“One destroyer at a time, then ready, aim, fartfire! Master-blast all our foes with your nasty fire-farts lit ablaze, from the world’s largest source of natural gas! We’ll destroy every single one of the enemy craft, even those darned UAPs we couldn’t even hit before! Butt, first, you need to wear one of these before we can begin to put your gas-blasts into production:
“Try and exceed 200 stinkers daily! Now back to your cell, Hurlbutt!”
MoronicArts 
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