Tag: #amwriting

The Garden of Dearthly Delights

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

The Manteno Cantina reviews start to pile up all over social media:

“False advertising! They tricked us into thinking we were attending a Gotion protest when it was really just a stupid talent show. Plus those ‘free tickets’ are not really free because they have a two-drink minimum!”

“Bernadette is one of their many talented performers. She plays the same two-hour set, refuses requests, then demands craptocoins! Come by on any day but Tuesday or Wednesday and enjoy the non-Bernadette singers.”

“The smelliest washrooms in Kankakee County since the dog-food factory closed down.”

“We’re losing business again. Why is it always the same eight people here?” the president of Bernadette Moran Cacca’s fan club, The Poopy Groupies, aunt Sonya Moran asks.

“Maybe we can hire that Hurlbutt kid to do his Elvis act.”

“Nahh.”

“How about we do some remodeling? And a name change? Nobody will know the difference,” suggests Poopy Groupie and neighborhood turd-burglar JB Powers.

“Not a bad idea. I’ll notate that.”

“I don’t know, Sonya, maybe we need more advertising?”

“Yeah, Dorian. That’s a wonderful idea! Woooooh!” Sonya exclaims a bit too hard, holding her brown note a bit too long.

Dorian begins to sing with excitement.

“Oh honey, don’t quit your day job.”

“Umm…Bernadette, my day job IS advertising and design.”

“Oh I mean keep going with that. I am sorry IF I hurt your feelings,” communal narcadoodle Bernadette gaslights in her typical fashion. She has the voice of an angel and the soul of the devil, leaving that bad taste in your mouth but you don’t quite know why.

Text alerts go out to every member of the Manteno Optimal Club via their CrapApp:

Kankakee Idol! Watch and sing along with the best Kankakee County singers, right here in K3! Watch our singing  competition from the comfort of your own home on Cable Access 19, or be a part of the audience in Manteno. Get your free tickets now! Another crappy show brought to you by Peppi’s Portapotties! Bernadette and Peppi Cacca are King and Queen of the Plastic Throne!

Signage has been plastered all over Kankakee County featuring the big cheesy grins of the judges, craptocoin emojis, and this text:

Tomato Karen & The Haggs
“They’re Coming to Take Me Away”

vs 

Wally Green
“Fart Your Birds”

Judges:

Bernadette Cacca
Sonya Moran
Dorian James

With your host, Konrad Teirant!

The day arrives. Emcee Konrad Teirant, one third of Moronic Half Assets and chief cooker of the CRASS books, hopes to make a big bag tonight.

“Live here, this is your host KT on the TV. Tonight at the Manteno Cantina, we have a real salad bar! We also have these ladies! Give it up for Tomato Karen & The Haggs as they sing “They’re Coming to Take Me Away!”

Tomato Karen Napoleon, Demanda Broccoli, Becca Frickfrick and Jamie Turnip try their very best to sing and play their poorly tuned instruments. As the crowd plugs their ears and Bernadette plugs the toilet, Tomato Karen’s ghastly wail raises in pitch and insanity – hitting a high C toward the very end – barely. 

“Thank you for that, whatever that was. Now let’s hear from our awesome judges. Bernadette?”

 “You guys are the GOAT! It’s a wooooooooooo from me!” Bernadette’s mouth opens wide, tongue hanging out as usual.

 “Why am I craving tin cans right now? Oh, speaking of can…” Bernadette runs off stage and straight to her favorite room to mine more craptocoins because she can. It’s potty time!

“Sonya?”

“The Haggs rule this composition. It’s a woo-hoo from me!”

“Dorian?”

 “This song is too repetitive.”

The crowd erupts in boos.

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over. It’s a yeah, no from me.”

Sounds of the disappointed crowd magnify.

“Speaking of boos, be sure to stop by our bar for our awesome drink specials!” Konrad spamvertises the already mad crowd.

“Butt, be sure to text us your votes on your smell phones! 815-555-FART.”

“Thank you Bernadette. You look awesome!”

“No, you!”

“You’re a national treasure Bernadette. This next guy is a real hoot! Tonight we present you Wally Green!” The bulbous, squat, 60-something enters the stage wearing a horizontal striped polo shirt, a fishing cap, and a cheesy grin.

“This one is for alllll the single ladies out there. Wally taps the microphone, causing ear-piercing distortion in the public address system.

“Fart your owls, fart your cockatiels. Let them fly away, let them fly for free. Don’t hug your dog, don’t kiss your cat. Love is what I got so give it all to meeeeeee!”

The three judges look at each other in wonder, confusion and astonishment.

In unison: “This is the dumbest thing we saw all day. It’s a heck-no from us!”

“Be sure to lock in your—“

“No nevermind, the razzy has already been awarded. The loser of Kankakee Idol is, Tomato Karen & The Haggs! Congratulations, you’re the only act we’ve seen that’s worse than Wally Green!”

“This is Konrad Teirant signing off…ooh is this thing on?”

MoronicArts Classics: This Is Not The Spam You Are Looking For…

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Junk email broker, failed film student and nextdoor sociopath Pat Oswald Splatt ventured over to the Kankakee County Spam convention with high hopes to rake in new customers to rip off bombarding their inboxes with unsolicited commercial crap for fun and profits.

Sadly, Pat was disappointed to instead find Damien Hurlbutt, Sybil Kibble and her mom JK along along with people actually having fun celebrating canned lunchmeat.

Maybe the self-proclaimed master-marketer should have read the event advertisement more carefully.

Bernadette Cacca’s Wedding Ring

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment
What type of diamond does Manteno communal narcissist, swamp witch and queen of the porcelain throne Bernadette Cacca wear on her finger?

MoronicArts Classics: Welcome to Hell

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Kankakee pyramid schemer Doris Krabalsky and Bourbonnais communal narc-a-doodle Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt both arrive at Hell’s in-processing department at the same time.

“Sign the register” says Hell’s in-processing clerk and former Medical Office Assistant, Lucy Furr, who was notorious for bullying her roommate on their college trip to Italy. Meanwhile, Doris and Damien try to take over.

MoronicArts Classics: That’s A Weird Flex, Robbie.

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment
Image: two panel, black-and-white cartoon. Panel 1: an Elvis impersonator does pull-ups on the bus as a gothic woman looks away. Panel 2: The Elvis impersonator dances at the bus station in the background, the gothic woman seen from behind in the foreground asleep.

Kankakee drugstore clerk, covert narcadoodle and self-proclaimed Number One Elvis Impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt spies his number one crush Gothic Diana Ross riding the bus. Hoping to impress her, like a peacock shaking his tail-feathers, Robbie flexes by doing pull-ups on the railing. Diana looks away, trying to hide her laughter.

Robbie continues flexing at the bus station, dancing around like a moronic fool as the rightfully uninterested gothic beauty Diana falls asleep, waiting for the Midnight Supremes to pick her up.

(Thank you for the prompt and the tip, Jennifer!)

A Hunka-hunka burnin’ junk

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Kankakee bill collector, Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Glee Club member and self-righteous narcadoodle Pam Frickfrick is such a huge Elvis fan, she bought up every single dancing Elvis bear she could find. Her favorites have built-in sensors to start singing, dancing and farting on her co-workers every time they walk by.

“You know, I wrote a book, actually seven. I know something about money. Let me tell you about–“

“I just want to speak to your supervisor.”

Before Pam has a chance to talk the guy out of escalating the call, Lead Debt Collector Sybil Kibble walks up to her cube, chomping on a dog biscuit.

“You know, Pam, we are losing money because of you.”

As Pam continues to ignore her supervisor and instead bothers the person about his dubious debt, her harmonica collection, alphabetized, and her obsession with stealing lawn ornaments, the robot bears sing and danc to a garbled recording of “Burnin’ Love.”

“Hey Pam, I think we have our new on-hold music!”

“Just wait a sec–“

Sybil knocks down all the android ursids into a big box and yoinks them from her subordinate. “Get back to work!” Miss Kibble commands to Pam, taking the cacaphony chorus line to Operations Manager Mikey Philips for a little dissection and maybe some vivisection, too.

Pam begins to smell smoke, gets up, stares across the office.

“Who’s got the cigarette?”

“Go back to work Pam!” the entire collections team chants in unison, shaking their collective heads.

Thankfully the smoke alarm stays silent for a change. Sybil hates farty horns.

Manteno Mayoral Meeting Madness!

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

The Manteno Optimal Club joins the village in congratulating its new mayor.

Wally Green, drugstore owner, wacky inventor and newly elected president of Bernadette M. Cacca’s fan-club sits and waits his turn to talk about opprtunities to sell more CrapStraps, StrangleTangles and Sleevies in Manteno.

Other Poopy Groupies Peppi Cacca and Dorian James wait in the hall, as the room is overflowing. Kankakee debt-collector Sybil Kibble tries to talk the village into letting Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) build a second location there. After all, what’s better than one collection agency to hound you about unpaid medical bills, than two?

A very desperate-for-dookie-downloads Bernadette Cacca burps, then bursts into the room, belting her newly formed tune:

“Buy Craptocoins, they are good for you, made from 100 per cent, recycled port-a-poo!”

“Mrs. Cacca, you need to add yourself to the agenda first before taking the podium.”

“No, I don’t need any immodium, I’m regular now!”

The new mayor waves Bern away like the waft of stench she brought in.

“Where have I heard that song before?” Wally Green thinks aloud, then blows his nose into one of his monogrammed hankies.

“Who brought the bullhorn?”

Gothic Flo of The Midnight Supremes just shakes her head and enjoys the popcorn.

Wax on, Wax off.

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

“You should get waxed more often! Why don’t you wax your chin!” Carla Moran, Manteno narc-a-doodle, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture demands and gaslights her only daughter, Bernadette Moran Cacca.

“Do you like getting hair ripped straight out its roots, ma?”

“No, but I do it anyway. Shaving makes the hair grow back thicker.”

“Mind your own business!”

Carla turns up the gas on the lighting:

“You might have got that gig you wanted if you waxed! Don’t you care about your appearance?”

“I tell you what, go start a business waxing people for cash and giggles. People will pay a lot of money for that!”

“Go get a real job, do something with yourself Bernadette!”


“No serious, mom, people will pay you even more if you go to their houses and give them a Brazillian at home. Discretion is cool! Call it, ‘Have Wax, Will Travel.’ I can see your cloaca by the way. You might wanna do something about that. I gotta make a pitstop. Smell ya later!”

Bernadette runs for the washroom in the nearby McD’s, because she has the runs, butt of course!

Then Carla poops on a passing car, because she can. Stupid bird.

Bernadette Cacca Tries to Unload her Craptocoins.

~ Jen ~ 3 Comments

“Hey you forgot your smokes!” 

Still not aware of the kind stranger returning his ciggybutt cartons, a second person calls out:

“Hey Greg, you forgot your cigarettes.”

Greg grabs the two red packs on which he had been sitting. No longer able to drive, the newly undead Greg had taken the bus to meet up with his lover, Bernadette Cacca at the Manteno Optimal Club where she is performing charity pop covers just for the photo opportunity.

Bern drives Greg home after the gig. Both get lost, not just because someone told them to scram. Fighting over directions, Bern wags her finger and tells her Poopy Groupie “I told you so.”

“What am I going to do with all these NFTs?” asks a puzzled Bernadette.

“What’s an NFT?” the newly undead Greg asks his partner-in-stench.

“Newly formed turds, my turd vault is full! I want to burn them, however they will go bad by the time I burn them all! The craptcoin market is in the toilet!”

Greg gives Bern his trademark devilish grin.

“What about formaldehyde? Don’t you load that into your turd machines?”

Bern folds her arms, turns away from her lover Greg, and walks upstairs to crap.

“You sing like a dying cow!” Bern Cacca yells out her washroom door at her next-door-neighbours The Midnight Supremes, as she pinches a loaf and then burns it in her fireplace. She has unleashed The Kraken.

Enraged, Gothic Diana Ross directs her bandmates so crank their amps up and engage the Marshall Stacks.

Bern peels out her driveway.

Patrick Oswald Splatt is busy in his Kankakee basement, developing his newest useless invention, when a certain Manteno entramanure rings his bell.

“It’s my new killer-app. Siri-al-Killer.”

“Yeah, what can it do for me?”

“It is a virus, designed to mimic Siri. Only it is seriously plotting to kill you.”

“You’re awesome!”

“Thanks. I know.”

“Yeah. So am I, that’s why I want to hire YOU!”

“Young lady, what can I do ya fer?”

“I need to unload my Turd Vault.”

Awkward silence fills the room.

“Your…what?”

“My inventory’s getting stale. I use newly-formed-turds (NFTs) to create Craptcoin. The market really stinks right now and I need to clean out my product.

Pat giggles. It has been a long time and he feels good to laugh at someone else’s expense again.

Pat and Bernadette make a food baby together:

Pat’s junk email go into circular files across the globe. Meanwhile, the craptocoin market falls further into the bowels of the abyss.

Desperate, Bernadette sends out this flyer. She made it herself:

Bernadette slides into her shack, waves to her husband Peppi high off stinky skunkweed, and runs down her basement stairs, nearly falling down and smacking her big mouth on the concrete. She disarms the gate and the two Turd Machines guarding her massive Turd Vault, only to find her precious turd-collection missing.

“Oh no, where did they all go! I bet it was JB the Turd-Burglar, he stole my crap, I just know it.”

Bern’s smell-phone rings, playing her favorite GG Allin song.

Before she has a chance to answer, she spies Undead Greg sitting in a corner of her basement.

“Hey. My turds are gone, Greg!”

“That’s greeaaat.”

“How is that great?“

“They were delicious,” the undead Greg tells his fartner Bernadette. “These things keep me going. Unlike other zombies, I don’t neeeeed to eat rotting flesh. Recycled food is goooood-forrrr-yooooou and tastes better tooooo!”