Damien strokes his orange neckbeard and pulls his blue jeans over his gut hanging out his too-small tee.
Damien’s flip phone plays a distorted ringer from a television theme song he had recorded with his phone.
“Hey Robbie!”
“Hey, hey.” Robbie says in his faux-Elvis tone.
“I’m back.”
“I’m front.” Robbie sarcastically says, using his routine gag.
“Hey Robbie, good timing. These tampon and maxi pad commercials keep interruping my shows. I swear this company knows I am watching and eating.”
“Call them up. I see those ads on those tapes you give me. It is funny because that cartoon comes on every Sunday night, and the show takes place in the capital of Illinois.”
“I think I will complain”. Damien hangs up his phone and goes to his computer. He types this message:
——
From: “Damien U. Hurlbutt” [ConnivingPimp@hautemail.con]
To: customerservice@bottomlineprodux.calm
Subject: Stop interrupting my shows!
It has come to my attention that your advertising interrupts my manly programming. You, a maker of feminine products, constantly interrupt me while I eat during my favorite shows. Obviously, you know that the shows you play your ads during are shows for men, yet your products are for women. Stop showing your ads while I eat!
Sincerely,
A manly man
——
The next day, Damien is sitting down, watching reruns of the Dude Show. “Not another tampon ad! I just started eating my mushroom cheeseburgers!”
Damien really likes his cheeseburgers and fries.
He hears a ding on his phone, indicating he has a new email, which he reads:
——
To: “Damien U. Hurlbutt” [ConnivingPimp@hautemail.con]
Thank you for signing up for our mailing list! You will receive daily updates telling you all about our feminine product line. Becuase you provided your cell phone number, we will text you daily, too! Thank you for your interest in our company and for signing up!
Illinois neckbeard, communal narcissist and movie theater clerk Damien Hurlbutt went off the deep end when his then-wife, Lori, stopped tolerating his verbal abuse and rightfully left him.
He sent this letter to her psychologist and her psychiatrist after she separated from him. Apparently, this ticket clerk thought he knew more about psychology than the licensed clinicians who practice. The latter provider called it a “lunacy letter.” The former said she had never seen anything like it in all her years practicing.
Kankakee slumlord and juggling clown Madeline “Madwoman” Topolla-Teirant just completed her registration after waiting six weeks in line at Hell’s In-processing Department.
She checks her phone and cannot figure out why it has trouble connecting to the Internet.
“There’s no signal in Hell” a disembodied voice calls out.
“I drove all the way from Manteno just to play Running in the 90s and it’s broke. Get me the manager!” demands the entitled 43-year old Bern Cacca, throwing a fit like a bratty kid at a Schmucks grocery store.
“I am the manager,” says Brenda who walks away and laughs at Karen, I mean Bern.
Bern says “I should get a free game” as she storms out the store and peels away in her white sedan, thinking she is in a drag race with the other customers.
“Would you like to hear the good news about our religion?” asks the elderly gentleman, sporting a “JC is the Man” tee shirt.
“No, would you like to hear the good news about the Flying Spaghetti Monster?” quips Diana.
“If you don’t join our religion, you will not go to paradise when you die.”
“I’ve died and come back three times and I am in the Rush University Journal of Medicine. When people talk about tunnels and light, I know they’re lying.”
Diana slams the door and gets ready to rehearse with Gothic Mary and Gothic Flo.
A knock is heard at the door.
“Go jump into Manteno Lake” yells Diana.
The knocking persists until the person holds down the doorbell.
Furious, Miss Ross heads out to chase her unwanted visitor.
“Oh. I just wanted to tell you I have been doing these gigs to support the Manteno Optimal Club. I sing showtunes and play accordion. I am collecting donations if you want to chip in, since I know you love music, and it’s going to great cause because I love the community so much…” Bernadette rambles, not realizing Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes are slow clapping to insult Bernadette’s lame attempt at asking for money.
“Oh I am so glad you want to help! How much are you going to give?”
Bernadette Cacca walks home and tests the crank on her window-mounted Turd Machine. “Pep, did you forget to oil the turd machine hanging in the living-room window?”
“No, Bern, it’s out of turds.”
“Oh. Where did they go?”
“Little lady, you burned them last night in the fireplace. Don’t you remember?”
“No, I had too much moonshine.”
Diana outside the Cacca homestead
Gothic Diana Ross looks out the arched windows of her home to see if the coast is clear, hoping to dodge any Caccas, and heads outside to board the bus.
Since her turd machine collections are out of turds, Bern devises another way to annoy Diana.
As Diana is just standing there waiting for a bus, Bern starts spamming her with unsolicited, incorrect information.
“Deeanna. This bus is not coming for an hour.”
Diana ignores Bern, enjoying her New Beat mix through her headset.
“Deeanna, it’s raining out. Where’s your umbrella?”
“Do you need to borrow one?” Diana sarcastically replies.
“See, Dee — I can drive you to where you’re going. I love to drive because I am a good person who helps the community.”
Diana continues to enjoy her music.
As Diana sees the bus approach, she takes off her headset so she can communicate with the driver, waving so they can see her.
“You know, Diana, you don’t have to flag the bus down. It will show up anyway,” Bern advertises her unsolicited advice.
Diana boards the bus, pays the fare and sits down in the back. Bern sits a few seats away, since the one next to Diana is already occupied by another passenger.
Diana exits the bus in front of a building near the garage where she dropped off her black 1988 Chrysler Conquest to get repaired, stopping to pause and gather her thoughts.
“That business is closed. Can’t you read the sign?” Bern nags Diana.
Bern Cacca’s turd-eating grin
“Don’t you have a pool to crap in?” the 5’10” Diana says, turns away and makes big strides using her long, slender legs toward the repair shop.
The rotund, 5’4″ Bern gives up as she has run out of ideas, for now.
“What can I do ya fer?” asks the mechanic behind the counter.
“I am her to pick up my ’88 Chrysler Conquest.”
“She’s not done yet. Give ‘er a couple more hours.”
Diana falls asleep in the chair while listening to music on her phone, the playlist changed to heavy metal and experimental noise.
She restfully dreams, drifting off to outer space, not a soul around to ask nosey questions. The beautiful goth queen and the boss of herself snores every so slightly, lightly. As Gothic Diana enjoys her peaceful rest away from her batty neighbors, she is starkly awakened.
“Diana? Diana?”
“Yeah…” a sleepy Miss Ross replies.
“Your car is good as new. She’s all fixed up. You owe us $1991.”
Diana reluctantly swipes her card, and drives onto the highway. It is getting dark on this cold Illinois night.
“Glad to have her back,” Gothic Diana thinks out loud.
Bernadette Cacca pulls up beside Diana in the lane to the left.
“But not her…” Diana also thinks out loud.
“Come on Diana, I’ll race you.”
“Get lost!” Diana exclaims, wishing the pest that is Bernadette Cacca would leave her be.
“Chicken! Bok-bok-bok-bok” the narcissistic Bern eggs on the unwavering Diana.
“Beep! Beep!”
The angered motorist behind Diana driving the white 1980s Toyota is in a hurry. Diana moves ahead.
“Yeahhhh!” an excited Bernadette exclaims as she burns rubber.
Diana and Bern race up and down the highway. Diana drifts as she tries to make her way very far from the trailing Bernadette. All she wants to do is go home.
The two arrive at their Manteno block, Diana first, Bern second.
Parked in Bern Cacca’s driveway is the white 1980s Toyota AE86.
A young man exits the Toyota and asks the approaching drivers.
“Did someone order tofu?”
Bernadette grabs her food and runs upstairs to eat because she cannot wait to poop again. She loves to poop.
An exhausted Diana enters her Gothic Victorian home and hits the silky black pillow atop her wrought-iron bed, falling asleep as soon as she lays down.
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?
Find out how these two partners in crime try to one-up the denizens of the Moroniverse upcoming novel “This Tale Stinks!”
“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.
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.
“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?”
MoronicArts 
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