Excuses, Excuses.

“Excuse me, excuse me sir, YOUR laundry is done!” shapeshifting humanoid turkey-vulture Carla Moran squawks at Konrad “Kon” Teirant who had fallen asleep at the Manteno mini-casino/laundromat “Spin-n-Sudz.”

“Yeah! I need a machine!” sister Sonya Moran says at the man who had ruffled her feathers in his sleep.

Carla continues to poke Konrad, who had spent the past week staying up late cooking the books into a mutated mystery-meat mess at the Kankakee bill-collection company Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS).

Carla shoves Kon into the slot-machine, causing it to spin into oblivion, make a racket and flash like a fire truck.

“I won the jackpot!” Konrad says in a startled haze.

“No, dude, that’s my jackpot!”

“It’s mine!”

The two avian sisters peck at each other over Konrad’s money, to which they think they are entitled. The love money more than Kon, and that is hard to beat.

The owner walks in. “Who let these stupid birds in? Don’t y’all know not to feed the animals?” she says as she scans her eyes across the mini-casino and bar. She picks up a broom.

“Shoo ladies! Shoo! Fly away and don’t come back now, y’hear.”

Konrad goes to collect his winnings, ignoring the warning screen right under his nose:

“TILT!”

“Sorry sir, malfunctions void all transactions. It says so right on the sign.”

“Wha–“

“It’s our policy.”

Konrad audibly shuffles his feet over to the laundromat to pick up his clothes, like a toddler ready to throw a tantrum.

“Sorry sir, we just closed. You’ll have to get your laundry tomorrow.”

A wild Konrad storms out the building into the Manteno parking lot looking for someone else to blame for his own mistake, because why take responsibility when you can just blame someone else? So goes the mind of a tyrant anyway.

“You stupid birds! You cost me my big bag!” Konrad yells into the Midwestern clouds at the vultures who had long flown away, like a wolf howling at the moon, or a pixellated coyote from a casino slot machine if you prefer.

Then it begins to rain.

At Least Sonya Did Not Chop Off The Giblets and Send Carla the Bill.

Shapeshifting humanoid vulture and Midwestern slumlord Sonya Moran was busy minding her own business, taking a break from chowing down on a carrion score found on the streets of Manteno, Illinois. Her bored sister Carla thought it would be cute to bother her sister for no reason whatsoever, other than to get a rise out of her. Ennui filled the creature with rage. After all, she only looks good on the outside.

“”When is the last time you cut your hair? It looks awful!” the self-righteous narcadoodle Carla berated her histrionic sister Sonya.

“I’ll clip YOUR wings!” Sonya lunged back, massive shears in tow.

“Oh no, not the blood feathers!”

Bernadette, You Can’t Handle The Truth!

“Oh my gawd, JB, stop holding your fork like a shovel. You look like someone from the backwoods,” Manteno’s very own Bernadette Moran Cacca berates her Poopy Groupy and secret lover JB the neighborhood turd burglar right in front of her husband and co-entremanure of their portable washroom business.

“Now why are you eating that with your hands?”

“Two words, “Finger foods.”

“D’aaah-is it made from real fingers?” Fellow Poopy Groupy Undead Greg Schneissder asks Bernadette as he slithers over to the table.

“No, horses’ ovaries. That’s what hors d’oeuvres means in English,” Bernadette claps back.

“That’s not true!” JB argues.

“Yes it is!” the confidently incorrect Bernadette argues with the turd burglar in a recursive loop. The family that poops together, stays together.

Yet, communal narcadoodle Bernadette graces the cover of the Manteno Sentinel again for her charity work playing accordion and kazoo show-tunes at the Manteno Optimal Club. Her aunt, slumlord, and shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Sonya Moran helped get her the press about some upcoming event crap. No wonder people want to yeet her.

Prepare the trebuchet!

YEET-O-MATIC!

These Are Not the Morans You Are Looking For.

Contrary to unpopular belief, these hijinks were carried out by plain ordinary vanilla humans, bearing the same names as the humanoid turkey vulture sisters Sonya and Carla Moran:

https://www.irishtimes.com/news/crime-and-law/courts/district-court/woman-guilty-of-trying-to-pass-herself-off-as-her-sister-1.2269672

No humanoids were harmed in the making of this story.

JoAnn Kibble Judges the Squirrelympics!

Kankakee squirrel watcher, candy-crusher and school-bus-parts collector JoAnn Kibble was hand-picked by her daughter Sybil to judge the annual Squirrelympics!

Brought to this community every year, the event is sponsored by Sybil Kibble’s employer: bill-collection-factory Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS), because they are here for you, and only for you!

“We don’t just take your money, we give it back, too!”
— Mack E. Avelli, Chief Crook and and Money Launderer, CRASS

Golden Moron Award: MAGAts & Their Maggots

Image: cartoon of an award statuette with a poop emoji on top. Text: "Golden Moron"

How best to get out the vote, than to contaminate your rivals’ food? Like a frat-girl prank, a group of girls are reported as having resorted to tainting the food of another.

What a great way to advance your cause, ladies? For emptying the contents of their brains into strangers just minding their own business eating, they have been specially selected to receive this collective Golden Moron Award! Now bring it home ladies, show it off to your friends!

MoronicFanArts

Thank you to the bot known as Alfred on my favorite social media, Counter.Social for drawing Kankakee’s biggest dog food connoisseur, debt collector Sybil Kibble!

If you are tired of Elon Musk Bones thrown out by the X-Parrot, then you might like Counter.Social. It’s completely free of crap like algorithms, spambots and trolls. It’s run by this cool hacktivist codenamed “The Jester.”

Past fan art:

Drawing by Alea Ner

“Wash that Bernadette right out of my hair!”

— Sybil

“Brandon Dixon is Half-Asleep” drawn by Zotco.

“Sybil Kibble” by GlowButter

A bonus Damien Hurlbutt drawn in the background of this “Ghoul” painting by an artist who prefers to remain anonymous:

JoAnn Kibble Meets Her Squirrelly New Friend.

It was a

Dopey,

Sleepy

day.

Kankakee resident, expert crusher of candy and prolific collector of school-bus-parts JoAnn Kibble, joined Snow White along with the remaining five dwarves, talking to some squirrels.

This one took notice.

“This friendly #squirrel gives an about-face three times. I hope to meet up with him again soon! 12/10 will feed again.” JoAnn said with a smile. Then she went back inside her apartment to sort her stop signs, seat belts and kill-switches by make and model.

Golden Moron Award: 50 Times? That’s It?

How many trips to prison does it take to get into this moron’s thick skull? The world may never know.

This clown has been in and out of the criminal justice system so many times, he may as well move in. Get this career crook his well-earned three hots and a cot!

For smirking his way through life, we hereby award Maurice Kearse 50 Golden Moron Awards! That’s right, one for every time he has gone in and out of that barbed wire fence.

Time to reel him in for good!

Do Androids Drop Their Electric Phones?

C’mon Deckard, I ain’t waitin’ around for ya all night. This is LA after all.

BZZZZZZ!

Time to die! Nothing like having an ITCH you can never SCRATCH!

What? Mother’s Day Card? Youtube, lemme tell you about my mother…