“A couple bucks maybe? I got them on sale at Schmucks. These Scooby Snacks taste way better than them Elon Musk bones…that’s fer sure.”

“A couple bucks maybe? I got them on sale at Schmucks. These Scooby Snacks taste way better than them Elon Musk bones…that’s fer sure.”


“Pooping…it’s great for the body! Everyone let’s get REGULAR!”
— Bernadette Moran Cacca, Manteno

“Flying, well yeah!”
— Shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla Moran, Albion Indiana

“Martial arts kicks, dancin’, anything to impress a groovy girl well enough to date this Elvis impersonator. I want to find the Yoko to his John.”
— Robbie R. G. Hurlbutt, Kankakee

“Anything I can do to break free from this cell already, m’lady madame.”
— Damien U. Hulrbutt, Area 51

Duhhhhh…I’m just vertical, roaming the free earth forrrr brains brainzz branesssss!
— Undead Greg Schneissder, Kankakee
Dead slumlord, malignant narc-a-doodle and shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Sonya Mare Smith Moran wants out of Hell. “Boss, can I enter the new externship you announced?”
“No, Sonya, we need you to keep filing these intake forms of the newly damned.”
“But boss?”
“Don’t talk back to me. Now get to work!”
Sonya files for another 666 hours until the bell rings. “I wanna ring the bell, I wanna ring the bell, why can’t I ring the bell?” Sonya screams as she throws a childish tantrum because she’s not getting her way, much to the annoyance of Hell’s CEO Satan.
“Sonya, you can do your externship on Earth for up to 12 hours, then you’re to be summoned back to Hell.
“Hot dawg!” Sonya exclaims.
Poof! Sonya immediately manifests her apparition in Kitty Bee’s bedroom.

“Why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t you ask me? Why did you report me to the feds?” Sonya-Daemon says to her former tenant to try and intimidate her. It’s 5:00 AM.
“Be gone in the name of the Light! With this your soul I smite!” Kitty grabs her can of D-Mon-Con and sprays beaucoup sage all over Sonya-Daemon.
“And may it be smote.”
“I’m glad I bought two of these. They were buy one, get one half-off at Wally Green’s. Now with extra sage, nice!”
“Wow, that’s a record!”
“Say what now boss?”
“You lasted two minutes and you’re back to Hell already. Now get to work! I need you to do 13 files a minute. Go now! Byyyeeeeeee.”
Satan disappears to mind another department of Hell.
Kankakee, Illinois’ number one Elvis impersonator, Wally Green’s drugstore clerk and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt has a huge crush on Midnight Supremes lead singer Gothic Diana Ross who isn’t remotely attracted to him, plus she has a boyfriend. He wants to make a huge impression on her because he does not understand the word “no.”

She has a gig coming up soon and he is scheming to find a way to connive his boss, store owner Wally Green into letting him hang up her show poster at work to promote her music as he thinks it will somehow make her like him.
”Hey Robbie, have a look at these paper towels I invented just for my store: Half the size, twice the cost. All the frustration when you go to rip off a sheet, thanks to me!” boasts a balding, squat, rotund Wally Green as he tips his fishing cap.
“I know, boss, let’s put them on a groovy display table near the front of the store so the suckers — I mean customers — will think they are getting them on sale.”
“Great idea! I am glad I thought of it!” Wally exclaims with glee, throwing his stubby arms into the air.
“Well…now that I, boss, thought of such a splendid idea, I have a favor to ask. This band is really a gas and I want to hang up their poster for their upcoming show at the store,” Robbie says to his superior with bedroom eyes, dreaming of Miss Gothic Diana Ross, the only Boss he could ever want.
“Naw. Get back to work. I need you to make production metrics this time. Start selling people some pills they don’t need.”
Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Lead Debt Collector Sybil Kibble comes into Wally Green’s Drugstore to buy an iced coffee and a bag of dog biscuits for lunch as she forgot hers at home.

“Ehh. Out of order again. Must be that half ply toilet paper,” Sybil thinks out loud.
“The washroom is on the blink?” Robbie asks, aghast.
“Yeah and I am in a hurry!” Sybil shouts as she makes her way over toward the men’s room.
“Do not go in there!” Robbie commands Sybil.
Sybil walks by Gothic Diana Ross in the men’s room, who is looking in the mirror, applying her jet-black eyeliner. She pinches a huge loaf in the stall next to Wally Green, who is busy whizzing away in the urinal. Sybil flushes but does not clean up the mess on the seat, flinging the door wide open with her arm. She makes a beeline for the sink and spots Diana sarcastically chortling away at the Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes poster on washroom wall.

A befuddled Robbie struts into the men’s room.
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME IN HERE!” Robbie shouts at the women. “THIS IS THE MEN’S ROOM.”
“Get back to work, Robbie, the ladies’ room is closed. Take down this poster while you are at it and apologize to our customers.” Wally Green tells his employee Robbie.

“I am sorry IF I offended you.” Robbie smirks.
“Get lost!” Diana and Sybil chant in unison at his non-apology as they leave the bathroom.
Sybil buys her lunch and drives back to work.
Wally sells loads of paper towels and Robbie is put on temporary janitorial duty until he improves his customer service skills. But don’t lock him in the bathroom. He thinks he is Elvis.
We here at MoronicArts need to pay monthly to help feed, clothe and water the denizens of the Moroniverse. If you like these idiots well enough to wear them on your sleeve, please consider buying one of official MoronicArts.com shirts:
https://www.teepublic.com/user/moronicarts
“Great gift idea!”
— Sybil Kibble, Kankakee


Or maybe buy some mixed moronic arts? (Not the Scary Barry type) https://jenxmusic.bandcamp.com/
Only 1.50 a pop — CHEAP!

The Moroniverse thanks you!


“Sybil, when did you start playing ball?”
“Ma, that’s not me!” Sybil Kibble replies to her mother JoAnn, while watching the Georgetown game. “His name is Jimmy.”
“Kimmy? Why did you change your name, sunshine?”
“My name is not Sunshine.”


Hey! Listen! I make my own mixed MoronicArts, but not the Scary Barry kind.

Ever want to know where wannabe ladies’ man, covert narcadoodle, and Kankakee’s Number One Elvis impersonator Robert Roy Gary Hurlbutt was conceived?

Neither does he. Robbie’s mother PJ Hurlbutt loves to remind her son where she got one of his two middle names in front of his boss, customers and potential girlfriends the groovy time she and his father N. Ron had one night in early 1978.

Wally Green’s word-salad adapter for the Turd Machine Deluxe.
Twelve turd machines left. Someone stole eight of them!” Bernadette growls angrily and proceeds to mount not one but four turd machines, including one she aims out her kitchen window directly at Gothic Diana Ross’ slate Victorian house.
The next day, Gothic Diana Ross briefly steps outdoors to check her mail.
“Bang bang, you’re dead, fifty bullets in the head” Bernadette sings as she cranks the turd machine, firing at Diana and missing every shot. Diana makes it inside, unscathed but angry.
FULL STORY:
You must be logged in to post a comment.