Butt, each to their own
Not The Manteno Cantina
Category: Humor
By George! He Just Slid Into Sybil’s Inbox
Poor George, he’s just not a people person. He and Sybil have different tastes.
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Saturday in the Park
Opposites attract, smells repel, unless you’re Bernadette and Peppi Cacca.
Bernadette Moran Cacca, Manteno, Illinois’ very own entramanure, communal narc-a-doodle and self-proclaimed “Queen of the Plastic Throne” comes back to the shack which she co-habitates with her drunken husband, Peppi.
Her mouth once wide open enough to catch a fly (or two), now sports a look of contempt after having headed home from the widely-attended Chicago “Hands Off” protest.
“A whole bunch of people walked by, and not one person, not even once, took a single video or picture of ME!”
“That’s that dang liberal protest, right?” Peppi asks.
“Yeah.”
“I told ya to vote for that other guy. Let’s go Brandon!” exclaims the bald, squat, beady-eyed, 70-something geezer, reeking of skunky weed made extra skunky, from rolling in the port-a-pee after he had finished a port-a-job.
“They got plenty of video of other people and their signs, some even made the Chicago news! The national news, too! Why not ME? Ever since Aunt Sonya left, people forget how talented I am, how much I do for the world, how much I poop. I have not gotten a single gig since she flew the coop!”
“She’s just busy I’m sure. Sit down with me, relax, we’ll watch The Wonderful World of Dung together.”
“The original or the remake?”
“The remake is streaming now…”
“Oh I hate the remake!”
Bernadette storms up the stairs, into the best room in the house to sit, poop and play accordion.
Her mother, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla Moran flies into town, rams into the Cacca home once again.
“Maaa!”
“I did a fly-by earlier and you weren’t home!”
“I was at the protest up in Chicago! Didnt you know? I can’t wait to tell you how much I did for America! It’s really good for my image–”
“Not now honey, family’s coming over.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
“Nobody told me about it!”
“I did, you just forgot.” Carla gaslights.
“No you didn’t.”
“Okay, okay, okay, drop it. Just get ready. Take YOUR shower!”
Bernadette continues to poop as her mother sets up the uninvited picnic tables and other crap out back. A committee of shapeshifting humanoid turkey vultures fly on down to the House of Cacca to party on down, and pee on her lawn.
“My daughter has a beautiful voice!” Carla brags about her daughter to her family who had just flown in from the next town over to enjoy a feast of freshly squashed roadkill. Her cold heart shines bright in the face of company.
“Where’s Sonya?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s awful rude of her not to come down. I kept calling, she never answered. Did she get the presents I sent her?”
“Why do you even bother?”
“Shall I sing for you guys?” Bernadette interrupts. “I just tuned my accordion and vuvuzela horn! How about a tune?”
“Not now. Maybe later. I’ve got something to show you!” Carla’s evil grin begins to creep over her face.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a surprise. Come with us.”
They peck, umm, pack into the van like a band of mad clowns and drive over to the hospital in Kankakee.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“We’re going to the hospital!”
“Did somebody die?”
“No.”
“Get hurt, have a heart attack? I wanna know.”
“No, Bernadette.”
The Morans park their van and then walk down into the basement of the hospital, towards a sign marked “Central Sterile Supply.”
“I’m giving you a tour.”
“Of the hospital basement?”
“Yeah. I used to work here when you were little. Time for you to get a real job!”
Bernadette runs away as fast as she can, screaming, cursing and singing show-tunes.
“They, they—they do vivisection in here!” Bernadette exclaims madly as she busts on out the door.
A few locals shake their collective heads at the sight. Just another day in Kankakee.
The port-a-dump proprietor is eventually rounded up and taken in for an evaluation, just not the occupational kind.
After a few hours, Bernadette’s drug test comes back negative and the nurse sends her home. She calls her husband on her smell-phone and of course he does not answer, so she walks home.
A few Kankakee County residents spot Bernadette walking down the road, point and laugh.
“Don’t make fun of me or I will find you attractive!”
“Say what?”
“We saw you on TV!”
“TV? What?” asks a puzzled Mrs. Cacca.
Bernadette begins to grin a bit, visions of people praising her for holding up social justice signs fill her mind, even though she only does it just to look good on the outside.
“Yeah, you ran out of the hospital screaming like a looney bird! You’re a meme now!”
“I MEME AM WHAT?”
“OMG It’s the meme girl! I want a picture with her!”
Bernadette crawls into a nearby bog and takes a massive dump. It smells like someone died over there, or maybe it was just her ego.
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MoronicArts Classics: Where There’s Smokey…
“Since that party last week in the break room set the sprinkler system off, the ventilation system is all jacked up. We need to do some work ‘round here and move some people”, CRASS Maintenance Manager Mikey Philips tells Collections Team Lead Sybil Kibble.
Head-pounding bangs and fart-like drills are heard, making it hard to get calls made. A smoke-like, horse-manure stench emerges from a cubicle near Sybil’s. Sybil gets up to investigate.
“Smokey? Why are you smoking? Go outside. I do not want to smell that.”
“Oh, they moved me due to the construction going on. I sit near you now. Nice boots, Ms. Kibble!”
“Get on the phones and put your butt out now!”
Sybil walks away and reads the posted sign: “CONSTRUTION – WATCH YOU’RE STEP”
“Yeah, they construe things around here: spelling and grammar!” Sybil wisecracks and steps back to her cube.
Sybil calls a few debtors and logs off the autodialer. The poopy stench continues to waft her way. Sybil clogs her way over to Smokey again.
“Smokey? You have not made a single call!”
“Oh, just one more puff!”
“Get to work! This is a verbal warning!” Sybil sternly tells Smokey.
Sybil grimaces at the loud pounding and drilling, as well as the tobacco clouds eminating from Smokey’s cube. She logs onto her autodialer and collects more debts from her clients’ numbers.
After a particularly stressful escalated call, Sybil logs off the phones and puts her head down. Tired and hangry, she smells the crappy smoke. “I bet she is still horsing around.”
Sybil approaches Smokey, who is slouched down in her chair, her ear in her mobile phone. She is clearly not calling her debtors!
“That’s the witch. Blonde hair, reading glasses, black and white outfit with heeled boots.”
“Come into my office, NOW!” Sybil orders Smokey.
“No! I do what I want!” Smokey shouts at Sybil and continues her mobile phone conversation.
Sybil storms over to her cube to devise a plan.
Smokey leaves for lunch, and to buy more cigarettes, of course.
Sybil goes to Smokey’s cube and takes her ashtrays, goes out back and tosses them into the dumpster. She thoroughly checks her cubicle for any other ashtrays. Sybil then takes her trashcan and moves it to her own cubicle, stopping to dump any butts onto Smokey’s desk. “Since she is not doing any work, she does not need this, hahaha.” Sybil hides the trashcan behind her desk. Sybil then takes all the cups out of the break room and hides them in her cubicle, in case Smokey wants to use them for her butts.
Smokey returns for “work” and plops her bum down in her chair. “Dang, where my ashtray go?”
Smokey begins to pace around the office. She looks up and down the office for an ashtray.
“Dale, handsome fella, got an ashtray?”
“Nope. Do some work.”
“Linda, got an ashtray, my sweet friend?”
“No!”
“Mikey! Hey my cool dude! Got an ashtray?”
“I am trying to do some work here.”
Smokey spends the entire day pacing around the office bothering people.
“Hey Smokey!”
“Mr. Avelli! Oh, Mack, you look so handsome! Hey, do you have a—“
“Yes, I have your termination papers right here. Now go clean out your desk. You’re fired. You have thirty minutes to gather your belongings. We will mail your final paycheck, minus today’s payday as you did not do any work.”
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MoronicArts Classics: When Smokey Stinks
“Man, that cigarette smoke smells like horse manure! I am getting sick to my stomach!” How does she get away with it? I keep reporting Smokey Ashe to security and she keeps on smoking in her cubicle. I feel like I am going to heave!” an upset CRASS, LLC bill collector Dale Davis tells his team leader, Sybil Kibble in their Kankakee office.
“There is nothing I can do. I do not want to get in the middle.” Sybil tells Dale.
Dale tromps over angrily to Smokey’s workstation.
“Smokey, why don’t you go outside and smoke? The smell is making me sick!” Dale yells at Smokey.
“What are you going to do about it?” Smokey snarkily asks.
“Just go outside with that crap.”
“Let’s take it outside. I will fight you now.”
“Grow up. You are so childish. I am calling security to report your threats.” Dale tells Smokey.
Dale calls Low Cost Security, or L-C, CRASS’s security contractor to report Smokey’s threats. Of course, his call goes straight to voicemail. Dale leaves a detailed message.
Dale never gets a return call so he heads to Mikey Philips, Building Manager.
“Yes?”
“I need help with something important.” Dale tells Mike Philips.
“I am very busy.”
I need to report a security violation.
“Did you call security?” Mike asks, nose buried in his PC.
“Yes, call went to voicemail. Smokey Ashe threatened me after I asked her to stop smoking inside.”
“Nothing I can do.”
“So what are you going to about Ms. Ashe smoking in her cube? It is making me physically ill.” Dale asks.
“I see nothing in the security logs from L-C.”
Mikey moves the Queen of Hearts to the top pile. “I am winning!” he says with a grin.
“What?”
“Oh, I am using my peripheral dexterity enhancement tool. This on the job training application is designed specially for the mouse,” Mikey explains.
“Uh-huh.”
Smokey butts into Mikey’s office. “Are you coming to the baby shower?” Smokey asks with a grin.
“No, I have a sock drawer to rearrange.”
“Dale, my handsome buddy?” Smokey places her hand on his shoulder.
“No, I have to go home and clip my toenails. Busy night.”
Smokey goes to Sybil Kibble’s supervisor cube and interrupts her.
“Hey there, my lovely lady! How about coming to my baby shower tonight! It is for my granddaughter! There will be games!”
“No thanks, I am looking forward to my Alpo tonight.” Sybil logs on the phones.
Smokey walks over to Tara Bull’s manager suite.
“Hey Tara! You look great!”
“Go back to work, Smokey. Not interested.”
It is 5:00 PM. Smokey, her daughter and granddaughter are gathered in the break room, all decorated in yellow, pink and blue. Smokey is puffing away, wondering where her coworkers are.
“How many people did you invite?” Smokey’s daughter asks.
“The entire company.”
Two hours pass by. Nobody shows. Dale drives by CRASS and pulls in.
“Oh hey there my dapper Dale! You remembered!”
“Yeah, my watch. I cannot believe I left it at work.” Dale dons his watch and gets into his pickup truck, pulls out the parking lot and heads home.
“I cannot believe nobody showed” Smokey says as she fills the air with her stinky smoke.
“AAAAAAANT! AAAAAAANT!”
“What’s that?” Smokey’s grandaughter asks.
“That’s the fire alarm.”
The fire trucks’ sirens are heard in the background. Meanwhile the company sprinklers rain down on Smokey and her family, showering the entire party.
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CRASS Toilet Paper Giveaway
We want to TP everyone in Kankakee County! On April 1st, come over to the headquarters of Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) and get the scoop on poop! One brand spankin’ new roll for each customer! If you use both sides, it lasts twice as long! Run on down now to CRASS before Bern Cacca steals it all!
And while we’re at it, be sure to pick up some half-ply toiler paper recipes, courtesy of Wally Green!
CRASS Chief Executive Officer
Mack E. Avelli
PS: April Fools!
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Don’t Make the Mistake of Driving People Batty
Bernadette Cacca has the voice of an angel and the soul of the devil.
Peppi Cacca has the voice of a daemonic troll.
“I got a new gig! And it’s a national one!” Manteno communal narcissist Bern Cacca exclaims to her sociopathic husband and entremanure Peppi, mouth wide open as if to catch a fly.
“Lemme guess…your aunt got you on the front page of the Kankakee Sentinel again.”
Nope.
“More charity shows to make you look good, pretending to care while you don’t? You’re a really good actress,” Peppi emphatically tells his wife.
“Yeah, I know. Not this time.”
“Another recurring walk-on role for a show you can only see on one certain app?”
“Nope. This one is bigger!”
“I don’t care but tell me anyway, I have skunk-weed to smoke after my date with the bottle. Then I have to go harass our next-door neighbors.”
“Out of Warranty Experience hired me for their robocalls! Everybody in the nation will hear wonderful ME tell them their car is out of warranty!” Bern says with glee, then rips a fart. “Mmmmmmm. I love that smell.”
The sun has just gone down. Peppi pounds on the air vent cover to remove his dope from the stash he hides in the duct, rolls up a skunky joint and crawls outside.
“Git-git-git-git-git-git” the clowny Peppiwise calls from the manhole down in front of The Midnight Supremes’ black Victorian Gothic home next door.
“No thanks, you can keep your candy” says Gothic Diana Ross toward the sound coming from the gutter as she completes her late-night stroll.
A skunky stench emerges from the drain, but not from poop. This is a water drain.
“Git-git-git-git-git-git.”
“Do you have something better to do? I’m not interested and never will be.”
Peppi’s ego deflates as Gothic Diana continues to ignore his plea for attention and goes inside and starts band practice.
Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes get ready to play, beginning with the number “Stop in the Name of Death.”
“Check-check, 1-2-1-2. Six Six. Why is this mic not working?” a frustrated Gothic Diana asks her cover band.
Diana opens up the battery cover. “Dead as a doornail.”
“Why don’t you bury them?” Gothic Flo jokes.
“We should have a funeral,” deadpans Miss Gothic Mary.
As the trio begins the dead batteries’ funeral rites, their ceremony gets interrupted by a phone call.
“Hey” answers Gothic Diana, putting her phone on speaker, hoping the band is getting called about a new gig.
“Don’t make the mistake of driving without a warranty…” the robocall commands. “This is the final call before we close the file. Press one to speak”
Click.
“I’ll press you, stupid moron!” Gothic Diana exclaims.
“She sounds familiar. Who is that?” Gothic Flo asks.
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Diana replies.
“Hey, methinks it’s that actor lady next door…the one who owns a port-a-potty business with her husband. Hey Mary, what’s her name?”
“Bern Cacca. She burns poop in their fireplace.”
“Ohhh, that’s why we smell her crap. Does she think it does not stink?” Mary jokes as the girl group erupts in laughter.
Gothic Diana walks outside her home to go for a brisk walk. She hears a sound off in the distance: “git-git-git-git-git.”
“Oh no, not Peppiwise again,” Diana says to herself as she passes by another rain gutter.
The 5’10”, slender beauty in the black dress gets another cell phone call.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make the mistake of going without a warranty…”
Click.
“I’ll get a warrant alright, for her arrest!”
Gothic Diana walks over to the house of her Manteno neighbor Bern Cacca to give her a piece of her mind. However there is a line of angry neighbors queued around the street wanting to also have a word with Mrs. Cacca. They knock, to no avail.
“Git-git-git-git-git” emerges from the sewer drain.
“I don’t want to litter, however I have no choice” Diana says as she goes to drop the leaking, dead batteries from her microphone into the nearest gutter. Before she has a chance, Bern comes a-running.
“Git-git-git!” sounds Peppi’s mating call.
“Oh I am here, honey!” an attracted Bern Cacca says as she runs to her hubby hiding out in the sewer, jumps in and continues persuit.
Plop. “Oops did I do that?” Gothic Diana thinks out loud as she drops the dead AA Imbecells into the drain.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Peppi exclaims, barely dodging the battery acid.
Needless to say, Bern and Peppi’s romantic moment was ruined.
The crestfallen Caccas retire to their shack, but don’t bother to shower of course. After all, the couple that stinks together, stays together. As the King and Queen of the plastic throne drift off to sleep, sirens grow louder, and a knock is heard at their entrance…
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Bernadette Cacca Gets Yeeted
“Here I sit all broken-hearted, tried to crap but only farted,” a forlorn Bernadette “Bern” Cacca sings on her porcelain throne, practicing kazoo and accordion. She lights a fart, burns her doodoo in the fireplace, then makes a call to a Northwestern Illinois bar on her smell phone.
“Poopy’s.”
“Hi, my name is Bernadette Cacca. I’m a famous singer near Chicago.”
The bartender giggles.
“I have a wonderful offer to make your bar.”
“May…I take your order?”
“I would like to open a Poopy’s here in Manteno.”
“I thought you were from Chicago!”
The bartender continues to giggle as he hangs up on Bern.
To increase her bottom line of attention, money and bootlickers, communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette offers to sing and play her accordion cover songs at a charity event to raise money for the victims of the Russian war against Ukraine. She dreams about all the praise, awards and photo opportunities she can gain from making it look like she cares. She does not raise money for this or any other cause because she feels concerned about the efforts of living beings trying to stay alive, fighting or fleeing a psychopath trying to take over their beautiful country. She just loves to pretend.
Bern heads home from a long day working her and her husbands’ business Peppi’s Portapotties, excited to burn the porta-poopies in her fireplace, only to be interrupted by a phone call.
“Hi, Bernadette…ummm…Cake-Uh?”
“Cacca.”
“Yeah, I am calling about your gig at the Gaslight Bar tomorrow night.”
“Oh hiiii! I am THRILLED about playing this extraordinary gig at 7:00 tomorrow night.”
“Good. We are calling to tell you about a slight time change. Due to staffing shortages, we need to move your gig back an hour.”
“I am a pillar of the community and a national treasure! Your tone is not appropriate for someone doing business. I would get used to people like me.”
“So are you coming or not? We have other guests who want to play and help—“
“Okay, okay, see you tomorrow. Don’t forget it!”
Bern teams up with local cybercrook Pat Splatt to develop her pretend money Craptocoin. The bum-waste-bin overlord thinks it is cute to sell Craptocoin at the charity event and decides she will solicit tips using her funny money.
“Hello Manteno! Thank you all for coming! Let’s raise some money! Gimme your requests! CraptoCoin only, my handle is @BMCacca! Maybe you already doing it, and that’s awesome!
ALSO, a shout-out to my extraordinary hairdresser @lilacroule from Croule, Young and Lovely who keep me lookin’ good! AND, my makeup by fabulous @marigoldyoung! So much love to their salon. Practices are things done more than one time regularly, and I have been practicing hard for tonight’s fundraiser! That’s why I call them practices!”
“And…without further ado, give it up for the Manteno Wonder herself, Mrs. Bernadette Cacca!”
A slow clap is heard, mixed in with hoots and hollers from Bern’s obsessed fanboys.
After finishing her last accordion cover tune for the first half of her set, “My Fart Goes Boom”, Bern runs to the washroom, humming “Let’s all go to the restroom” as she poops and farts.
Mrs. Cacca emerges, approached by a Chicago television reporter.
“Hi Bern. I would like to interview you. We got a press release—“
“Not now, after.”
“I have other stories to cover. Let’s do this now.”
“The show must go on.”
“I am from Ukraine and have family there.”
“Fair enough, let’s do this interview up on stage. We will both look awesome up there!” Bernadette gushes.
The Chicago TV reporter enters stage right, Bernadette stage left. Reporter Elena Emm stops to remember her questions so she can begin her interview.
An impatient Bernadette sighs loudly, whistles and hums.
“Why are you staring off into space? Are you in a fantasy world?” Bern snarks, snickers, thinking only Elena can hear her.
“I am blind,” the reporter advises the oblivious Bernadette, unaware a camera operator is filming the entire interview.
“Here let me touch your face,” the ableist and ignorant Bern belittles the Chicago TV news reporter, reaching for her face.
Elena knocks Bernadette unconscious with a single blow to her piehole, then proceeds to yeet her into the crowd of bootlickers.
“This show is getting entertaining” Gothic Diana Ross says to her bandmates, The Midnight Supremes, who are waiting in the wings.
“I may be visually impaired, but I’m not stupid” Elena Emm says to the crowd who had poured in to find out where their entertainer Bernadette had gone, only to have that communal narcadoodle chucked right into a pile of them, knocking the fanboys over like a set of bowling pins. Strike!
Happy she got a scoop on the poop-mistress extraordinaire, Elena and the news team head back to Chicago to produce their segment for the next morning’s newscast.
“Next up, give a hand for these lovely ladies, Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes!” announces the emcee, who had called the Manteno girl group last minute to replace their annoying neighbor Bern Cacca on the bill.
“You look so good on the outside”
— Cold Cave
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MoronicArts Classics: Favorite Flicks of the Moroniverse
Walter Augustine Green
Cigar-rolling B-rolls Wally finds oh so interesting.
Sybil Katrina Kibble
“Scooby-Doo: The Movie” Sybil watches for the Scooby Snacks.
JoAnn Kissane Kibble
“The Nut Job” is the favorite of Sybil’s ma JoAnn A/K/A “JK,” since she, Sybil and best friend PJ Hurlbutt love to go out squirrel-watching even though the neighbors think they are a little nuts.
Bernadette Moran Cacca
“The Wonderful World of Dung” Bern Cacca wishes she can see again (and again, and again), because she enjoys dropping a deuce. Her favorite part is watching the elephants pooping and peeing at the same time. Here she sits all broken hearted, tried to buy but only parted because the stupid thing is even not out on DVD.
Peppi Cacca
“Dude, Who Stole My Car?” is the only movie Peppi ever watched, because it’s the only dumb enough for him to understand.
Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt
“Batman Returns” is at the top of this narc-a-doodle neckbeard’s list. Damien feels bad for The Penguin because he identifies with him. He thinks the movie is all about him as he does everything else.
Robbie Roy Gary Hurlbutt
“Bubba Ho-Tep” Robbie Hurlbutt binges on repeat because he thinks he is the reincarnation of Elvis Presley. He leaves the building to watch it because his biggest fear is being locked in the washroom.
Konrad Teirant
“Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room” Kon watches on his smart-watch, so he can find timely recipes to cook the CRASS books.
Judy Avelli
“Scream” has Judi enticed because she has a thing for Ghostface.
Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran
Carla Moran (not to be confused with a different Carla Moran) watches “The Entity” in a recursive loop, when she can’t sleep. Then people tell her it’s all in her head…umm…beak.
Mack E. Avelli
“Battlefield Earth” is the beloved favorite movie of the CRASS chief. He thinks it is the best science fiction movie ever made and that it’s a true story.
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MoronicArts Classics: Aim High
“Oh man, I want to see the new movie Aim High but the tickets are all sold out. It opens this Friday, you know, the one based on the newest Nora Roberts book?” Dorian James rambles.
“Never heard of it.” Sybil tells Dorian in the CRASS cafeteria as she crunches her dog biscuits.
“I want to see it when it comes out, but the tickets are sold out because it is a Valentine’s Day movie.”
Sybil has a few extra minutes before she logs onto the phones, so she searches OKStupid for potential dates, reacting to herself as she reads through the personal ads.
“41 year old man in Chicago seeks female. Must be 18-25 and love sports.”
Nope.
“Do you like big trucks? 21 year old guy, loves beer, weed, works hard and plays hard, no games.”
Naw, I like the occasional backgammon.
“Rare frog, last of his species, seeks woman of any age to give him a kiss. Very polite tender-heart. Age 48. Bourbonnais.”
Just a photo of his feet? A bit odd, but I can try I guess.
Before Sybil has a chance to message the stinky feet from Bourbonnais, they email her.
Sybil and the mystery man email back and forth. They hit it off right away. The divorced man complains a lot about his ex-wife, which Sybil tunes out. Sybil talks about her love of lawnmowers and dog food, which the guy ignores only to interrupt her about his “poop elves” story.
It’s a Valentines Day in Kankakee. The birds are chirping and Sybil is tweeting online about how excited she is about her new man and the mystery gifts he keeps teasing her about. Could he be the next Robert Stack?
It is 11:30 and Sybil is on the phone trying to double down on debt. Operations Manager Mike Philips comes by with a delivery.
“Flowers for Sybil!”
Sybil hangs upon the debtor and immediately logs off the telephones. The long, green and cream box, sealed with packing tape, came from New Jersey. Sybil gets out her scissors. She struggles for 20 minutes and finally opens the box. Inside are 12 longstemmed roses individually attached to the box by hard plastic fasteners.
Sybil’s frustration grows as her scissors are not enough to loosen the delicate roses from their restraints, so she grabs a set of pliers from her drawer after five minutes of searching.
Finally, the flowers are out. Thankfully, the potential suitor included a vase. Sybil goes to the ladies’ washroom, fills the vase with water from the sink, and puts the haphazard bouquet on her desk.
Sybil calls her mystery man to thank him.
“You just won Valentine’ Day!” he says to her.
“I did?” Sybil sighs.
“Well, did anyone else get as much as you today?” He asks.
“I do not know. I did not look…and I am not that impressed by gifts. I am more of an acts of service person. I like when people do stuff for me,” Sybil tells the gentleman.
“Look in the box, Sybil.”
She looks in the box. She uncovers a movie ticket.
“You and I can go to the opening of Aim High tonight! I cannot wait to meet you!” he says.
“You sound familiar. What is your name, mine is Sybil.”
“Damien.”
“Oh, you’re PJ’s son. I remember you.” Sybil tells Damien, remembering the terror that communal narcissist Damien caused by mentally abusing his former wife, Lori.
“I know, I know, I know…I will meet you tonight at the show, M’lady Madame. I have long red hair, an orange neckbeard and I wear a black fedora.”
“Right. See ya.” Sybil says to Damien hangs up the phone and laughs.
Sybil dials Dorian James.
“Yup.”
“I got a movie ticket for you. Aim High. Tonight’s the opening night. It is all yours. Have fun!” Sybil tells Dorian.
“Allll-right! Be right over.”
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