MoronicArts Classics: Double Down on Dog Food Instead!

Tara Bull, Accounts Receivable Manager at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) in Kankakee, IL holds a strategy meeting with the chief cooker of books, Konrad “Big Bag” Teirant and Chief Executive Officer Mack E. Avelli. Tara thinks CRASS can increase their bottom line by using their synergetic mindset to implement the new increased production metrics.

“By making our staff work harder for the same pay, we will move the goalposts,” Tara insists.

Ms. Bull is Sybil Kibble’s supervisor. She asks her Lead Collections Representative Sybil Kibble how her team would best achieve those metrics. “My double-down tactic always works,” Sybil advises her superior as she munches on dog biscuits. “By telling our debtors to pay twice as much as they can afford, they will always pay more.”

“Get ‘er done” Ms. Tara Bull tells Sybil. “I do not care how it gets done. The ends justify the means.” A hovering Mack. E. Avelli flashes an evil grin and a thumbs-up gesture.

Sybil and her team spend the eight hour work day making the calls, even skipping breaks at Tara’s insistence. Dale none too happy, runs in place at his cubicle to kill the stress, checking his heart rate on his beeping wristwatch. Mikey does his usual cleaning, making the toilets clean and sparkly at his own pace. However, something does not get done.

“Sybil! Get over here now!”

Sybil hangs up on her angry caller and works her way over to Ms. Bull’s office.

“Yes?”

“You all are not making the metrics!” growls a livid Tara Bull as she chucks a pile of papers at Sybil. “Bring in the bucks or I will fire you all!”

Dale decides to try a different approach. He offers payment plans, and goes around Sybil and Ms. Bull’s hard rules. He finds his stress levels decrease as he is able to help his customers pay their bills and empathizes with them at the same time, as Dale was once down and out himself.

Sybil tries her might and cannot not double down to make her double bonus/Form 4 and metrics. She thinks to herself that if she could go home and work, she could call people around suppertime and reach more people. After all, it works for telemarketers, right?

Sybil drives her white Chrysler LeBaron home, logs into her computer and starts making calls. Not long after 5:30 PM, Sybil hears a knock at the door.

“Who can this be, dag-nammit?” Sybil thinks to herself.

Sybil opens the front door to her rather oversized house. “Hi Sybil. I am sorry to bother you. My cat Holly is missing and I am terrified. Have you–“

“Your cat is not here, Kitty, go away,” barks Sybil as she goes back to her typing and calling.

As Kitty Bee searches high and low for her dearest Holly-Cotton all over Kankakee and Bradley, Sybil’s Form 4s pile up. “I am winning! I am getting my Form 4’s! Gimme my Form 4’s!”

Sybil is so excited to collect all that money and make bonuses as a result via the Form 4 bonus and hopefully please her boss, Ms. Tara Bull.

“Man, I gotta pinch a loaf,” Sybil says aloud as she gets up, after her last debtor hangs up on her.

Meanwhile, a certain Miss Holly-Cotton, who has been hiding out in Sybil’s rather large house, needs a place to go herself. She hops up on Sybil’s messy desk and starts sniffing around. She locates a certain pile of papers and jumps on top of it, highlighting the entire stack.

Sybil exits the washroom after dropping off some kids at the pool. She immediately spots Kitty’s cat Holly on top of what used to be a pile of Form 4’s.

“Oh my gawd, get the heck out of here you little brat-cat!” Sybil shouts at poor Miss Holly-Cotton as if she had done something wrong.

Holly gladly exits the house of Sybil and enters the loving arms of Ms. Kitty, who is waiting outside after having searched all Kankakee County for her long lost fur-baby. Meanwhile, Sybil returns to a useless pile of forms, formerly known as Four. She has lost out on her bonus.

Sybil doubles down on her nightly dish of comfort food, a bowl of Alpo. Yum!

MoronicArts Classics: Damien Hurlbutt Thinks Excess Plastic is Fantastic

For Bourbonnais cinema clerk, communal narcadoodle, and neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt, invalidation of others’ feelings has always been one heck of a drug.

”Hey Damien? Why does Buckstars wrap all their plastic utensils in even more plastic?”

”Well actually, Lori…I was watching the Angery Game Nerd Show on PooTube and the host gets mad there is not enough packaging. After all, plastics makers need to make money too…“ Damien the self-proclaimed “nice guy” said to his ex wife at their former home in Champaign. Lori Brown – whom Damien calls “Grimace” – has been happily divorced from the Bourbonnais cinema clerk who sent her doctors lunacy letters, thinking he knew more about psychology than…um…an actual psychologist?

Have you known someone like Damien? I hope not. Lori would not wish his abuse on her worst enemy.

Go, Bernadette!

“Oh no. Not her again. Hey, let’s sit down and hide out over there.” Before Gothic Diana Ross & The Midnight Supremes have a chance, their next-door neighbor Bernadette rips a big one, the sulphuric stench drowning out the delicious coffee aroma.

“Bernadette, you farted in my chair. That’s my favorite chair! Lick it clean.”

The three songbirds cackle in unison and wave her away, butt, the queen of the plastic throne Bern keeps her bum firmly planted in the fragrant coffeehouse chair, wishing she had a match.

Waiting by the barista bar for their iced caramel lattes, the Gothic Boss Ms. Ross and her sisters approached by a slender, 5’4”, 60-something blonde woman wearing cheater glasses.

“It’s smelly out there, take this.”

“Do I know you?” Diana asks the stranger.

“No, I’m Sybil Kibble. I’m in here every night and I got this picture from some weirdo named Jen. They said they liked your music and felt bad about some smelly morons next door to you. You’re from Manteno, right?”

“Thanks! This is nice for a change.”

“Jen said to keep it for good luck. Maybe it will ward off Barn-o-dette or whatever the heck her name is.”

After arriving home from the Bourbonnais Buckstars in their black 1988 Chrysler Conquest, the ladies go inside to practice their instruments. Gothic Diana Ross takes a break, walks outside to put out the waste bins, and spots her next door neighbor Mrs. Cacca standing nearby.

“Oh no. Eew. I hope she doesn’t bother me for the zillionth time,” Diana says to herself. She pulls out the talisman given to her by Sybil and puts it in her front jacket pocket.

Instead of running up the stairs of Diana’s slate Victorian house to verbally spam her about the Manteno Cantina charity crap only done to look good on the outside, the communal narcadoodle Bernadette instead waves at a bus passing by, hoping its smiling eyes would react to Bernadette’s wide open grin as if to catch a fly. 

In turn, the bus loudly “faaaaart-faaarts” like the truck from the American Freight commercials, one of the few things more annoying than Bernadette Moran Cacca.

Meet Sybil the Cat!

You’ve met Bernadette the Kitten, now meet Sybil the Cat!

image: photo of a brown tabby cat

https://www.adoptapet.com/pet/40309506-monterey-virginia-cat

Unlike the poor kitty named after the Manteno Wonder and entramanure Bernadette Moran Cacca, we here at MoronicArts do not know this kitty.

Sybil Kibble thinks it would be a treat if this adoptable cat got a loving fur-ever home.

image: cartoon of a blonde, older woman wearing glasses and dog-bone earrings expressing delight.

That’s seven, seven full years! Ah, Ah, Ah.

Lightning strikes again! Seven years and 500-some-odd short stories later, Kankakee’s best bathroom reader* is still recycling story fodder fed to – and digested by – some weird writer named Jen. Thanks for joining the moronic malarky of the Moroniverse in our mission to mock stupid human tricks carried out by dodgy pretend primates in this species called Homo sapiens.

*According to that fictional nitwit Bernadette Cacca from Manteno.

At Least Sonya Did Not Chop Off The Giblets and Send Carla the Bill.

Shapeshifting humanoid vulture and Midwestern slumlord Sonya Moran was busy minding her own business, taking a break from chowing down on a carrion score found on the streets of Manteno, Illinois. Her bored sister Carla thought it would be cute to bother her sister for no reason whatsoever, other than to get a rise out of her. Ennui filled the creature with rage. After all, she only looks good on the outside.

“”When is the last time you cut your hair? It looks awful!” the self-righteous narcadoodle Carla berated her histrionic sister Sonya.

“I’ll clip YOUR wings!” Sonya lunged back, massive shears in tow.

“Oh no, not the blood feathers!”

These Are Not the Morans You Are Looking For.

Contrary to unpopular belief, these hijinks were carried out by plain ordinary vanilla humans, bearing the same names as the humanoid turkey vulture sisters Sonya and Carla Moran:

https://www.irishtimes.com/news/crime-and-law/courts/district-court/woman-guilty-of-trying-to-pass-herself-off-as-her-sister-1.2269672

No humanoids were harmed in the making of this story.

JoAnn Kibble Judges the Squirrelympics!

Kankakee squirrel watcher, candy-crusher and school-bus-parts collector JoAnn Kibble was hand-picked by her daughter Sybil to judge the annual Squirrelympics!

Brought to this community every year, the event is sponsored by Sybil Kibble’s employer: bill-collection-factory Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS), because they are here for you, and only for you!

“We don’t just take your money, we give it back, too!”
— Mack E. Avelli, Chief Crook and and Money Launderer, CRASS

GrammarLOON

Wally Green proudly Introduces his new CrapApp GrammarLOON! Now you can pay money to make your computer interrupt you writing that important document for your boss, only to get whole sentences replaced with absolute gibberish! Impress your teacher by getting Ds instead of As or Bs on your homework because GrammarLOON screwed it up!

As seen in a recursive advertising loop on PooTube, the makers of AutoIncorrect want to take your typing frustrations to the next level! We are absolutely ducking sure you can buy one, get one half off (but never free) at your local Wally Green’s! 

Cross your fingers to safely pull into our Kankakee County corner lot, get a decent spot, then pick up a Word Salad Adapter for your Turd Machine while you’re there waiting two hours for your meds (which we told you on the phone would be ready in twenty minutes). If you happen to see the owner and wacky inventor Wally Green himself, ladies you sure are in luck! He is single, will date any woman who stands on two legs and won’t take no for an answer!