The ever-miserable “Scary” Barry Reynolds and his equally grumpy wife “Terrible” Terry Reynolds will do just about anything for money here in Kankakee. Just what are they doing with that Weggy…umm…Ouija Board anyway? Are they necromancing Luigi after he fell into the garbage too many times?
How to inform your entire neighborhood that you’re a giant moron
This has been a MoronicNews Alert.
“Man, I had a hard life,” Kankakee drug addict and all-around loser Leon Peeonne says to fellow junkie Rachel Shelley, as they glare aimlessly into the flatscreen television setting ahead of them.
“Where did you get that rad TV?”
“Fell off a truck,” Leon chortles as they share a laugh and two partners in crime wrap their arms around each other.
Rachel’s ringer goes off.
“It’s Damien…” Rachel sighs.
“That moron? Send him to voicemail.”
Rachel sneaks off into the washroom.
“Where are you?” a grumpy Damien asks.
“I am out.”
“I heard some noise in the background. What are you doing, M’lady, Madame?”
“Business.”
“Okay honey puddin’, just checking up on you.” Damien slyly says.
“For the last time, don’t call me that!”
“I only say it because I love you!” Damien replies.
“I am leaving for Michigan next week, and I just got here. I gotta go.”
“Okay honey pudd—“ Beep.
Damien hears a dial tone and cannot figure out why. He goes back to cloning movie tickets using the company printers.
Rachel joins her secret lover on the couch.
“MANTENO CHILD ON THE SPECTRUM GETS HER WISH”
“Oh, look how sweet!” Rachel says sarcastically.
“I bet that DIDN’T fall off a truck.” Leon snarks.
“This brave little girl has been the victim of bullies all her life. So local charities stepped in and bought her a Playtendo and 10 games to go with it.
‘I am so happy now. I can’t wait to play all these! Thank you!’ says 10 year old Anna of Manteno.”
“Awwww, sucks to be her, she was bullied. Hey, they showed her address. Maybe we can steal her crap?”
“Maybe we can. And then we can get her mom to post about it on my mental health group on Fakebook, so I can harass her there, too!” Rachel shares with Leon and they both giggle a little too much…way too much. Then they shoot up.
Rachel drives Leon in her rental car over to Manteno searching for the home of the 10 year old they just saw on TV so they can steal her Playtendo to sell for drug money.
“I think this is it.” Rachel says to Leon as she spies the house she saw on the news. She parks the car around the corner, walks up to the ranch and rings the doorbell. A gentleman answers.
“Oh hi. We are volunteers from Kankakee County and wanted to pay a mental health visit. Can we come in?” Rachel asks the gentleman.
“I will ask my wife.”
A few minutes elapse, and the two tresspassers are still standing in the doorway. An older lady can be seen walking on the sidewalk.
Some commotion is heard coming from inside the house; typical kids.
Rachel’s phone rings. She ignores it. It continues to ring.
“What do you want?” Rachel asks Damien.
“I’m home!”
“Yeah? So?”
“Aren’t you gonna come see me, Honey Puddin’? I have presents!”
“Damien, I am busy right now”. Rachel hangs up her phone.
“Okay you guys need to leave.”
“Can we come in for a minute? I promise we won’t be long.” Leon says to the mother.
“Leave now, or I am calling police.”
The older lady off in the distance, looking vaguely familar to Leon, is on her phone.
“Okay. We will leave. Here is a brochure for our great mental health group on Fakebook.”
“Take your group and shove it. We have a great neuropsychologist and are doing fine.”
Sirens are heard and flashing lights are seen.
Leon and Rachel hurl some colorful language at the family.
“Would you use those words in front of your mother?” The girl’s mom asks Leon and Rachel.
“Let me tell you about my motha!” Leon deadpans as he reaches for some object in his jean pocket known only to him. A cop on scene grabs Leon’s hands, pins them to his back and reads him his Miranda rights.
“That’s mah boy!” a nearby Leona Krabalsky snarks. “Lock him up!”
“Ma?” Leon screams as he is hauled away.
Leon is charged and later convicted of attempted burglary, heroin possession with intent to distribute, disorderly conduct and unlawful possession of a firearm.
Damien continues to call Rachel back at her home in Detroit and she continues to not give a crap.
Oh man, the douchenozzle I encountered on yet another medical trip surely wanted to have his way! He rode all the way on his high horse from Toledo to the seats occupied by a nice lady who boarded a few stops earlier in Indiana, and tired me who got on at Chicago.
Like Charlie with his golden ticket, this bunghole headed to Buffalo huffed and puffed because someone else was sitting in seat number 10. No, he did not move to another vacant seat, because that made too much sense. Instead, he made demands that the nice social worker next to me get up from HIS seat.
After the nice lady moved out of sight and mind from this moron, that ennui-consumed piece of work sat down next to me and made demands I plug in his charger. No please, no thank-you, he did not even ask.
I told the bumbling tool he did not have to sit there. After all, if he moved to another seat it would be the exact same thing, just somewhere else on the train. He would even get to his destination. Nope — the dope started calling me names like a schoolyard bully.
But wait — there’s more! The beligerant gentleman made sure to mansplain to me that there is one outlet per passenger. Naaaaw.
I took the high road and found another seat, the fool chose to die on that hill. Good for him — I bet he wants a prize.
Here you go, Fool on the Hill: I award you Moron of the Week! Now go sit down and do your homework. If you are good, you won’t get detention.
Medical trips really suck. Jen wants to travel for fun. Buy her a ko-fi (or just say “hi.”)
The Beatles Rock!
What a CRASS idea!
Some Moran (yes that is their name) thought it might be a good idea to make it legal for bill collectors like the fictional Sybil Kibble text your phones to beg for money. Even if the debt is not really owed; since medical bills are notoriously incorrectly billed, these morons think they can spam your phone.
Oh and people have been thrown in jail over medical debt.
Nobody should do time because they have medical debt.
Here is a better idea for all you who hire those CRASS, LLC wannabes: How about asking the customer if they have additional insurance? Or and here is another no-brainer: how about billing primary and secondary insurances in the order the patient specified? Don’t know which goes first? I dunno, maybe try asking the patient. They just might tell you. Duh.
For choosing greed over empathy, I award these bill collectors and those who hire them Moron of the Week.
A few years from now, Communal narcissist and poopyburner Bern Cacca, who wanted to be everybody’s friend, but only to use them finds herself forced out of Manteno and into the pits of Hell.
“Satan, why am I here?”
“But I did all those favors! I played accordion for the Optimal Club! I gave people rides! I–“
“Did you do those things to help, or to make yourself look good?”
“Uhhh…”
“And how many times did you admit you did something wrong. Count them. I will wait. So will my visiting intern Gothic Diana Ross. She will take you to your cell. Do you prefer jagged rocks or bubbling excrement?”
As much as Bourbonnais communal narcissist and fedora-sporting neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt wanted to attend his big birthday bash, he could not make it because he got stuck on the toilet.
Instead, we bring you these important words from Squirrely Dan.
Manteno narcissist of the communal kind, and poopyburner extraordinaire, spies a wild Gothic Diana Ross at the local Wally Green’s and runs after her.
“Oh my gawd! I am so happy to see–“
“Go away. I don’t like you.”
Not willing to respect boundaries, nor caring for personal safety, Bern chases Diana into a forest.
The girl was never there.
Bern made her way back into the bog, from where she came.
It’s not really hard to impress me. Ask me questions about what music I like, and my favorite hobbies. Ask about MoronicArts, I don’t care.
Sadly, about 95 per cent of interested suitors get this part wrong. How had is to to…you know…try?
Take this rando who slid into my inbox:
For acting like most of the other guys, and then probably complaining to your male friends why you cannot get a partner, I award this dime-a-dozen douche and all others like him Moron of the Week. Try and compensate for your deflated ego. You just got an award, dude!
MoronicArts 
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