Beaucoup Bogan Spices

“Did your brother Damien mop these washrooms? There is a lake everywhere,” Wally Green asks his clerk Robbie Hurlbutt. 

“Naw, he was last seen somewhere around Area 51.”

“Now I need you to cut off access so people don’t slip and fall! Put one of those plastic things in the way, those ‘wet floor’ signs so that people will bump into it should they try and go pee.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And when you’re done, I need you to set up our new spice-rack.”

“Oh, for our pharmacy? To hang up all our pill bottles, right?”

“You sound more like your brother every day.”

“Did you invent them?”

“No, Robert. They came in all the way from Indiana.”

Robbie begins humming “Indiana Wants Me,” tuning out his boss.

“Boucoup Bogan Spices. These babies have a magic ingredient!”

“Can they make me high?” the drugstore clerk, vulnerable narcissist and Elvis impersonator asks with anticipation, eyes wide as his sideburns long.

“No, not that kind of magic. If you make production, I will let you in on the secret. I hear they are a big hit in Evansville.”

“Why are you importing from Indiana? That’s a whole world away.”

Wally sighs, shakes his head and walks back to his office. Wally opens up his Tindling app and swipes right as much as possible. After a slew of rejections, this wacky inventor and wannabe ladies’ man deals himself a game of solitaire and falls asleep, dreaming up the next buy one, get one half off (but never free) sale.

Albion, Indiana Optimal President Club Carla Moran drools over her shipment of bogan moths from Australia. “These will make great spices for my business “Beaucoup Bogan Spices.”

“I agree. They will go great with those mealworms you have been using!” cries her niece, bog witch and communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette Cacca.

“Well, yeah!”

“I am gonna try them on the next man I devour when I return to my swamp.”

“YOUR swamp?”

“Don’t forget it!” Bernadette snarks at her favorite aunt and flying monkey.

Kankakee bill collection boiler-room Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) holds their annual Halloween potluck.

“This dish is delicious. I have never tasted bean sprouts so yummy. Usually they taste like dirt! These spices are like no other, compliments to the chef! Where did she get that recipe?” CRASS chief cheese Mack E. Avelli asks.

“They’re just regular bean sprouts. Cut them up like regular bean sprouts,” Accounts Receivables Manager Tara Bull says to her superior with a crooked grin.

”I just made these intestine desserts for Halloween. They’re really good. I made them the Dale way,” Dale Davis asks his supervisor and crush, Sybil Kibble.

“I just destroyed a whole bag of dog biscuits, I’m not hungry now. Thanks!” 

Mr. Avelli is dying to know who made the bean sprouts with the funky spices. He goes from office to office asking, hoping to find a way to make money off them. Someone owns up.

“Where did you buy these?”

“Wally Green’s,” Operations Chief Mike Philips tells his boss as he continues his FreeCell game.

“How about we do a big ol’ promo?”

“Do what you want. My wife made them.”

“Mike, contact Wally Green and ask that we co-host a talent competition. The winner gets a lifetime supply of this crack and a CRASS tee-shirt. It will make us a look good, and maybe Wally will pay back some of his debt. Get us on TV!”

“Call Dorian. I am too busy.”

Mike goes back to playing his virtual card game.

Mack develops a crossover campaign with Art Director Dorian James and plans to air it live on the local news. They are given the green light to air October 31st.

“It’s Halloween Night and we have a TREAT for you!” barks CRASS Chief cook of books and 1/3 of Vaudeville troupe, Moronic Half-Assets (MHA) Konrad Teirant.

Awkward silence passes.

“Get it, treat?” Konrad says with a falsetto giggle.

The crowd rolls their eyes and boos.

“Oh look a ghost!”

Not feeling the love of the crowd, Konrad moves right along.

We are holding our talent contest, sponsored by Wally Green’s and Beaucoup Bogan Spices! The winner will get a lifetime supply for these unique, and very tasty spices imported from Albion, Indiana. Sonya, what are these made from?”

Sonya attempts to force a big, cheesy smile, juxtaposed against her psychopathic stare.

“Out first act tonight is the Manteno Wonder herself, Bernadette Cacca! Get ready for her kazoo pop covers!”

Bernadette’s biggest fans, The Poopy Groupies, cheer, hoot and holler.

“I do a lot for the community! You guys are AWESOME! Get ready KaCo! Any requests?”

“Can you hum the Menard’s jingle?”

The crowd giggles and Bern carries on with her cover songs and finishes her act rapping about her port-o-dump business along with husband Peppi.

“We are King and Queen of the Throne. Come to Manteno and get your poopy on!”

Thank you Peppi’s Portapotties. Now for our next act, you will really like her, I know I do because she’s my wife! Give it up for Madwoman! I mean Madeline!”

After a slow clap, a large dumpster clearly marked “Peppi’s Portapotties” is rolled onto stage by an unseen pair of stagehands.

The seven-foot clown juggles broken records, scratched CDs and crushed cassettes.

“Hey, those are mine! Robbie Hurlbutt lies from offstage.”

Madeline chucks the busted music collection at the little fibber.

Thank you my love. And now our final act, Mr. Wally Green himself!

“I’m single by the way. Meet me here at the Gaslight Bar during Happy Hour. I will make you happy!”

Laughter fills the room and the airwaves. The bartender smiles.

Wally Green sings “Fart Your Birds”, a parody of Prove Your Love by Fun Factory. Bird tweets, squawks and fart sounds looped into the song can be heard on the playback. Wally sings and blows his air-horn nose:

Fart your birds,

Fart your parakeets

Give me all your budgies,

Point your butt and rip.

Don’t try to hide,

Don’t run from me.

Fart your birds,

Fart your parakeeeeeets!”

The crowd bursts into laughter, and tosses beer bottles at Mr. Green. 

EmCee Kon Teirant takes over. “Thank you Wally. That sure was…interesting. The crowd has voted. I think we have a wiener, I mean, winner. The CRASS Winner of the WORST Act goes to, Mr. Wally Green himself! Mack E. Avelli, throw him a CRASS tee-shirt.”

Mack fires away a CRASS shirt out his tee-shirt shooter and directly into Wally’s massive gut. 

“Any single ladies wanna meet me at the bar?” Sonya Moran and her favourite niece Bern Cacca run over, arms a-flailing, to give him a hug.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

CRASS Cubicle Contest

“You are number one!” Team Leader Sybil Kibble tells new part-time Collections Representative, Robbie Hurlbutt at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS).

“I know,” Robbie smirks.

“I mean you made the top of our production metrics. Good job, keep doubling down on debtors and you will do just swell here at CRASS.”

Robbie flashes a thumbs-up to Sybil and dances back to his cubicle.

“Ding.” Everybody gets the same email.

From: “Mack. E. Avelli” [bigmack@crass-llc.con]
To: “CRASS Corporate Listserv” [all-crass-l@crass-llc.con]
Friday, October 25, 2022
Subject: Cubicle Decoration Contest

We here at CRASS care about employee stress. Therefore I, as your polite and tenderhearted Chief Executive Officer, am extending an entire thirty minutes (:30) to participate in the company cubicle contest (CCC). Be creative in decorating your cubicles and have fun! You are not required to use your lunch for this event, but we encourage you because time is money and money is time!

The winner will be selected by our very own art director, the lovely and talented Dorian James on Halloween Day. The prize will be a trophy to display in your office. Think of all the fun things you can do with that!

Regards,

Mr. Mack E. Avelli
CRASS Chief Executive Officer

The collectors get to work making calls and decorating their cubicles. Robbie Hurlbutt, a local Elvis impersonator best known for an Internet meme featuring a scowling lady unhappy with his nursing home performance, covers his cube with Elvis record covers. Dale Davis covers his walls with ghouls and goblins. Sybil Kibble covers her supervisor cubicle with dog bones because she likes to eat them during her breaks.

It is a cold, windy Halloween day in Kankakee and it is starting to rain. “If you don’t like the weather here in the Midwest, wait five minutes,” Dale jokes in between calls, jogging in place, beeping his watch to check his heart rate.

“Eeep!” The email all CRASS employees have been awaiting for has arrived.

“Who changed our notification sound to a wild eep?” Robbie asks.

“That was probably Dorian,” Sybil sighs.

From: “Dorian James” [dorian@crass-llc.con]
To: “CRASS Corporate Listserv” [all-crass-l@crass-llc.con]
Thursday, October 31, 2022
Subject: Cubicle Decoration Contest Winners and Losers

Sybil: Your design lacks thought and maturity. It is not what we are looking for.

Dale: There is no art development and it basically reads like a rather puerile joke.

Tara: You are obviously a 13 year old drama queen…Grow up little girl.

Mack: Several of us discussed your design and did not like it. Not everyone likes what I make. It is not personal.

Mike: You need to get used to the fact that not everyone is going to like your work and move on.

Robbie: That is the best design I have ever seen. That’s so deep. I love Elvis. You are a real winner!

R,

Dorian James
Art Director Extraordinaire
Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS)

The CRASS staff is upset…except for Robbie. He is smiling away, taking calls and collecting his Form 4s from all the bonuses he gets collecting on fake debt. Robbie is grinning ear to ear and cannot wait to rub his trophy in the faces of the collections team entire staff after he receives it.

Robbie continues to successfully make one call after another, when he gets a wide-eyed visitor.

“Hey there, fella!” an upright, confident Dorian James chants to Robbie as he is very happy to see him.

“Oh hey man! Thanks for picking me! Better than picking my nose ya know.”

Awkward silence ensues.

“That was a joke, ya know,” Robbie says nervously.

“Oh sweetheart, I am here to present you with your award.”

“Thanks, man!” Robbie says as he accepts his tiny, gold-tinted trophy.

“Oh, thank you honey. Not a problem at ALL! Hey Robbie, what ya doin’ after work? I think ya kinda cute and wanna take my number one man to dinner!”

“Wait, what?” a confused Robbie asks.

“Yeah cutie! I love your Elvis hair and your clothes! Let’s go out and do karaoke or something!”

“No way, man. You’re not my type. I quit!” An infuriated Robbie storms off the job and out the building.

Dorian feels crushed by the rejection.

“How does it feel to get rejected, huh? Yeah, ya little twerp! See what it’s like?” Sybil says to a beleaguered Dorian.

Happy Halloween!

Caccas Burning, Stomachs Turning

Image: a full-colour cartoon of a black lady with big hair holding her head in her hand the foreground, looking out the window at a house with a smelly bonfire.

Poor Gothic Diana Ross. All she wants to do is lie down in her silky black sheets and take a nap after a long day practicing with her bandmates, Gothic Mary and Gothic Flo in her Manteno home. Nope. Next-door neighbors Bernadette “Bern” Cacca and her husband Peppi are burning port-a-poop again in a backyard bonfire after a job as Bern claps and sings, interspersed by random kazoo sounds. They sure love to farty.

Happy Birthday, Sybil Kibble!

Enjoy your doggie dessert!

Happy 5 Year Moroniversary! Thank you fans!

For 5 years and 300 some-odd stories, some shorter than others, we thank you for all your views comments and shares!

As long as there are morons to inspire stories, we will keep on writing them. Thanks for five good years, many more to come! (Unless the world runs out of morons)

Solitaire

Deerfield, Illinois-born drugstore chief, wacky inventor and barfly Wally Green is playing solitaire at The Gaslight after the nice lady in heels rejected his moves. Apparently his tall tales about wrongly losing the deed to Manhattan Island – after pirates had stolen it from his ancestors – was too much for her to handle. I wonder what she thinks of the air-horn inside his nose which blares whenever he blows it.

Wally Green’s Rejected Patents

Wally Green has been notorious for his wacky inventions for quite some time. Some of his ideas have made it into his drug stores. Others failed to pass patent approval and almost landed him in prison.

Finger Ale

Made from real fingers, this new organic health drink was set to be the new health craze, only it failed FDA requirements, and put Wally on several law enforcement watch lists.

Toiliot

This production-oriented, automated toilet would flush well ahead of schedule and make sure to splash its user, doubling as a bedde. As an added bonus, Toiliot would entertain people by making fart noises after flushing, much like Wally would when he blew his nose.

Passhole

This computer program would require its user to type in their password correct the first time. Any error would result in electric shock and their account locking up immediately.

Do not look for these products at a Wally Green’s near you.

In Lieu-Au Fun

Manteno’s self-proclaimed “giver extraordinaire” who performs accordion covers of pop-tunes to raise money for the photo opportunity, Bernadette Cacca holds a kitschy, Hawaiian-themed shindig to thank her enablers, the Poopy Groupies. She really wants them to know she just loves their continued excellence in bum-kissing and useless-drama creation.

“That’s so bad!” Bernadette says as Peppi leaves the party. “He just came for the food and did not stay. All I do for him! All I do for the world! He just left me here to die alone!”

“He left for the washroom, Bern. I would too if I ate pineapple on pizza,” JB the Turd-Burglar tells his crush, the Manteno Wonder herself, Mrs. Bernadette Cacca.

Mmmmm, Easter Egg!

The Moroniverse thanks our l33t readers for all your likes of our silly tales. You rock!

Checkmate

“We Are CRASS” is the corporate slogan for Kankakee debt-collection firm Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS), LLC.

CRASS CEO Mack E. Avelli loves to find new ways to make money for the company. Because he is running out of fresh ideas, he decides to hold a meeting with the entire staff.

“Anything to get some time off the phones, eh?” Dale Davis giggles to Linda Stay, as they walk into the room. Sybil is seated in front with a cheesy grin on her face. Art Director and Sybil Kibble’s number-one crush Dorian James is slumped in the very back row, hand running through his wavy, auburn hair. Sybil stares at her crush, who has made it clear to her many times he is not interested, and prefers the company of men. Accounts Receivable Chief Tara Bull is seated upright and uptight near Lead Debt Collector Sybil Kibble. Mikey Philips works his way into the room, along with Konrad Teirant, who is tired from having to resolve a conflict last night at his megaplex.

Mr. Avelli makes his presence in the room and the chatter subsides, eyes on the CEO.

Mack E. Avelli

“Good morning. It is 11:00. We have an hour to come up with the best ways to maximize revenue for our facility. The most creative ideas will be chosen. Give me your best and brightest ways to bring more income to our company. Who will go first?”

Sybil’s arm darts up.

“Anyone?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Sybil exclaims.

“We can advertise,” Dale suggests.

“Not a bad idea. Advertising takes out of our bottom line and can take away from our profits if it does not provide a return on investment. Who else has an idea?”

“Oohh, oooh!” Sybil gasps as she gets more excited about her idea.

“We can go on the news and talk about our services. Some companies use a public relations firm to pitch advertising stories as news. It might be a lot cheaper than advertising.” Tara Bull mentions.

“That is considered yellow journalism and thus unethical…not a bad idea. I will consider it.”

“Pick me, pick me!”

“Yes, Sybil…” Mack sighs to Ms. Kibble.

“I have an idea that will certainly make us money! Since we are debt collectors and we mail people collections letters that people just throw out, why don’t we disguise the Dunning letters as checks and people will open them instead!”

“That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that before?” Mack E. Avelli boasts as he thanks Sybil for her idea.

The letters, which were designed by the CRASS Art Department have been mailed out to the debtors.

Calls come in, but not the ones Sybil was expecting.

“Hi Sybil? Yes, I’d like to order a pizza.”

“Is this Credit Recovery? I heard you were offering me some money! I am sure broke and can use it!”

“I like blondes. Are you single?”

Unbeknownst to Sybil, her name and photo were used on the letters! Leave it to her rival and crush, Dorian James, to pull a fancy trick like that.

Maybe disguising collections letters as checks is not such a great idea, after all.

Sybil goes home and drowns her troubles in a big bowl of Alpo.