“CONSTRUTION”

Sanctioned founder of the now defunct Mathew B. Johnson College of Intrepid Arts, Scary Barry Reynolds sees an ad for Peppi’s Portapotties on TV.

Thinking the gas stinking up his pet construction project in Albion is from a massive dump — residents pooping on the street — he calls on them for help, both practical and sinister.

“Peppi’s Portapotties, King and Queen of the Throne, the national poop treasure Bern Cacca speaking. What can we doo-doo for you today?”

“Do you know anything about gas?”

“Oh yeah! You got gas? I do. RRRRRRIPPPP. That was a good one!”

“Um yeah. I am calling you for help in the Turdology department. Can you come down to Albion, Indiana and sniff things out?  

A flush is heard in the background. Barry continues his request:

“My wife his this “constrution”, I mean construction project going on in town, running until the end of the year. I was told we were blocking emergency access to the street. Why should I care if a bunch of junky locals OD on meth? Anyway, can you come down today, it’s an emergency.”

“We specialize in emergencies. Peppi and I will come right over.”

“Good, we need help clearing the air.”

Barry ends the call, excited to get the Caccas’ expertise in all things crappy.

After Bern Cacca finishes burning poopies in her Manteno, Illinois backyard, she peels out her driveway and hurries over to Albion, Indiana.

Hours pass, no sign of Peppi and Bernadette. Barry checks his phone.

“Umm, how do we get in so we can get the scoop on your poop? These roads are all blocked. Every single one of them.”

Barry texts Bern back:

“We are building 100 roads — all the more to block.”

Barry snickers.

An hour later, someone rings the doorbell outside the gate of Barry and Terry’s McMansion.

“Who’s this?”

“Hi Barry. Peppi’s Portapotties. King and Queen–“

“How do you know my name?”

“You called me and told me.”

“I. Don’t. Like. That.”

Barry buzzes the gate open and the Caccamobile burns rubber across the Reynolds’ driveway.

“Park over there,” Barry demands, pointing to a crooked spot toward the end of the driveway, behind Barry’s multiple luxury cars.

The Caccas get out. Bern runs up to Barry, as if to hug a long lost classmate.

“Git!” Barry barks.

“Ooooh, I think you’re cute.”

“Git!”

Bern goes to hug Barry.

“I SAY GIT!”

“That’s my mating call. I met her in the bog,” Peppi Cacca tells Barry.

“She’s my bog witch extraordinaire! Entremanure by day, bog witch by night.”

“We met you there, remember?. Bern was taking a bath so we left. Can you help me clean up my act, I mean reputation? It really stinks out here.”

“Your construction crew hit a gas line. We only do portapotties.” Bernadette advises Barry.

“Nature is calling, we gotta go.”

Bernadette and Peppi Cacca make their way out of Albion, and back to Manteno over in Illinois, eventually. Bern did not get to burn rubber that night, only poopies.

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