Coming soon to Wally Green’s: The Wallyt! This wallet made specially by the man himself Wally Green, has a kick to it! It will kick out your stuff randomly by having a party in your purse or your pants!
All your ID cards, credit cards and cash money will explode inside your purse, forcing you to play 52 pickup!
Buy one get one half off but never free. The Wallyt only comes in green. (Sorry to red yellow, pink, blue, purple, gray, brown, and black!)
Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran flies into the bog where her unwanted daughter, swamp-witch Bernadette Moran Cacca hangs out, perching on a nearby rock.
“Does my breath smell?” she asks a perplexed Bernadette as she breathes her stinky air right into her face.
“Boss, can I get a vacation? I have been taking souls down the river Styx for millennia now, and I need a break,” Charon the Grim Reaper asks Satan.
“Just one day. I will ask in-processing clerk Lucy Furr to fill in while you are out, as she is your backup. You need to train her first.”
“I don’t need training, I can run circles around you!” Lucy Furr demeans the tired old Charon. The harbinger of the dead goes on vacation and Lucy takes a trip to Albion, Indiana.
The notoriously crooked couple “Scary” Barry and Terry Reynolds are having their daily, bitter argument.
“You did not unload the dishwasher!”
“Terry, you did not ask me.”
“Just anticipate it!”
“I cleared the table and wiped it down.”
“That does not even count!” Terry screams at her husband who begins to feel the onset of a heart-attack. In the midst of their creepy fight, a shadowy figure looms behind.
“I am so tired of feasting on carrion. Dead meat is so boring. Carrion, carrion, carrion!” shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran squawks; her feathers are ruffled again. “My swamp-witch daughter eats better than I do – she eats men whole!”
“Well, yah!” Sonya Marie Smith Moran snarks back.
“You know what I mean. Dead meat. If you had a brain you’d be dangerous. And Undead Greg would eat it.”
Sonya flies away and does air-donuts looking scanning the ground from the sky foraging for foodage. Carla joins her air-bubble and the two angry birds fly home.
“Those bunnies eat my tulips every year. It’s like a smorgasbord for them!” Carla complains, flapping her wings.
“Find another salad bar then,” Sonya says to her sister-in-law and bird-of-a-feather Carla.
“What about my steak garnish?”
Carla flies away to one of her twelve nests around town and Sonya goes back to work.
Connie is devastated. She has been taking care of her sister Paula for the past fifteen years, sharing the only two-bedroom apartment in a low-income complex owned by a certain Sonya Moran with her twin, taking care of dear sibling. Paula had been in hospice care and passed away New Year’s Day. Barely beginning to process the loss of her sister and best friend, she gets a knock on her door.
“We need to move you upstairs by February 1st since it’s only you here,” landlord Sonya Moran demands, not a shred of empathy or sympathy to be found.
“My sister just passed away.”
“In your lease it clearly states that should your household size change, you must notify me immediately.”
Sobbing, Connie asks Sonya “Can I get a few months? I—“
“It is company policy that you move out by February 1st.”
Sonya walks back into her office next door to the home of Connie and her late sister to look for more people to harass. Then she rips a huge fart. “That was a good one. Let’s Go Brandon!”
The Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) pays a visit to inspect the housing complex, one of many Sonya Moran owns and operates. After so many false write-ups issued to tenants for pretend lease violations, Sonya has raised an eye.
After completing their inspection, they knock on Sonya’s door to give them their report. Nobody’s home.
The inspectors leave their report on a clipboard next to the apartment-complex entrance and head out to evaulate the next place on their list.
Resident Kitty Bee walks downstairs from her unit to check her mail. After tossing her junk mail and Dunning letters from CRASS, she bends over to read the curious clipboard. There are just as many remarks as there are checkmarks on HUD’s pass/fail inspection report.
Sonya Moran files a $6 million lawsuit in federal court against HUD, Wally Green, Robbie Hurlbutt, Gothic Diana Ross and a whole bunch of other random strangers from the Midwest for allegedly violating her 1st, 4th, 14th and 69th Amendment rights.
She also files a suit against the city. Her goal is to bankrupt the city and ruin the lives and careers for everyone named in the original suit. She lost the last one, so she’s trying again. She’s a sore loser who is butthurt, throwing a temper tantrum because she lost the Albion, Indiana mayoral election and because word got out to HUD about her crappy apartments.
The Judge throws out Sonya’s lawsuit like yesterday’s news — because it pretty much is.
“Everybody cheated!” — Sonya Moran
Bernadette Cacca performs her heart out of her kazoo and accordion covers of songs like “My Butt Goes Boom” and “My Fart Will Go On.” Despite her best efforts, her butt-trumpet solo does not qualify her for a spot on stage at Kankakee County’s Talent Show.
“I had sung a cover of ‘Into The On-Hold Abyss’ at CRASS Idol and got NOs from all three judges after four seconds. I was good,” Sybil Kibble replies to the drama unfolding all over the talent show’s Fakebook page.
Having the voice of an angel and the heart of the devil, Bernadette is jealous that her neighbors Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes got a spot, the entramanure and communal narcissist known for her charity piano bar recitals did not. Sucks to be her!
Bernadette calls upon her Poopy Groupies to raise a stink.
Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran works as a sterile supply technician at an Indiana hospital, eating all the gross stuff off the medical equipment before it goes into the autoclave. She flies into her home, missing the roof again, after visiting one of her 10-plus “scadiate” nests around Albion as she says.
“Ana walks by me three times, that’s three times. Not once, not ONCE did she say hi!” Carla gossips to her sister Sonya.
Butthurt because people are not returning her phone calls, the evil shapeshifting humanoid vulture takes to the road to ruffle some feathers, since her wings are tired.
Carla Moran takes Sonya Moran’s parking spot. The residents of Prairieland Country Club Apartments For the Disabled start squawking about it while Carla is out stalking again, saying “That’s Sonya’s spot. She’s the manager. Don’t take it.”
Carla snaps, “Sonya’s gone for the day.”
”If she was here, she would be pretty grumpy at you.”
“I will just be a minute.” Carla takes out her smell phone and texts every person in her log. Five minutes later, nobody replies so she re-sends them. Everything’s an emergency to her, so she speeds off to Illinois like an ambulance rushing to the scene of an accident.
Carla peels into the Caccas’ Manteno driveway thinking she’s a street racer. The apple does not fall far from the tree.
“Take these sacks, help your mother,” Carla says to her daughter Bernadette Moran Cacca.
“I’m not an octopus!”
“Here, let me grab them” Sonya says with a half-smile as she grabs the eight grocery sacks with her massive, pointy beak and sets them inside the Manteno Optimal Club.
Sonya Marie Smith Moran files a $4 million lawsuit in Kankakee County court against the Talent Committee, plots to take over the city and fire the current mayor since she’s still butthurt that she lost the mayoral race in Albion, Indiana. Her goal is to bankrupt the city and ruin the lives and reputations for everyone who wins the talent show. “Winning is everything!” she exclaims after she uploads the paperwork.
Bernadette rehearses on the stage at the banquet hall inside the Optimal Club. People have yet to show, including her mother and aunt out rounding up robins, vultures and cuckoos to watch their wonderful lil bog witch sing at their charity event, hoping to change the mind of the Kankakee County Talent Committee and everyone else who contributes to planning the annual County Fair.
Today, people will not give an inch. On the way to Dr. Eddie Dixon’s office, Sybil Kibble has to stop and get labs drawn, no biggie. She stops and eats her Alpo lunch. Yum!
What is this water on her seat? The floor?
Darnit, that screwy air-tight water bottle she bought from Wally Green’s took a whizz all over her bag, her phone, her masks. “Thanks, Wally!” Sybil exclaims.
After stopping for coffee, the covfefe continues over at Dr. Dixon’s.
Sybil asks receptionist Pris Dixon for a mask, she barks “we don’t give out masks here anymore,” while calling back to Dr. Dixon to try and cancel.
Thankfully a kind stranger gives her an extra one; apparently Pris had never ruined a single mask, ever. I bet she had never spilled water before and assumes other people do it on purpose.
Sybil sits down in the crowded waiting room amongst a group of mostly unmasked patients. Maybe one or two folks actually wore theirs. She sees CRASS co-worker Mikey Dixon get called in, along with Gothic Diana Ross. Eventually she gets called in and is told — guess what — her tests came back normal.
On the way home, it begins to pour. Sirens wail like a banshee. “Man, I wish they would turn the volume down on these fart-machines!” Sybil Kibble thinks out loud.
Sybil pulls over near the Manteno Optimal Club to let the fire engines and cop cars pass. Carla and Sonya Moran had smashed their sedan into a telephone pole out front. Rubberneckers look at the accident and stare, wondering what had happened.
“We flew over here to try and bring groupies Peppi, Greg and JB to YOUR show and look what YOU done!” Carla and Sonya bark at Bernadette, the Manteno Wonder.
“Are these sirens just for me! Aww boys, you shouldn’t have!” Bernadette exclaims with glee at the loud, farty horns and farts along to the noise while shaking her booty as if nobody was watching. She’s not too bright.
Sybil films the whole fracas and laughs, excited to show her mother JoAnn and maybe post to Kankakee social media. Maybe.
Kankakee Elvis impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt bought a purple clown car to impress the ladies. He sure thinks it has street appeal. What do you think?
Sybil joins her mom JoAnn “JK” Kibble to watch her favorite show, the Linksabbiegen 500.
Kankakee’s biggest squirrel-fan JoAnn “JK” Kibble is celebrating with her daughter Sybil, an area bill-collector who eats dog bones on her breaks. Hug a squirrel in honor of JK!
MoronicArts 
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