“Of all the turd-machines I’ve bought, I love Wally Green’s the most! I get great deals on them, buy one/get one half off (but never free). The other brands just don’t measure up. I love my Turd Machine Deluxes because I can keep my vaults safe to mine Craptocoins the old fashioned way!”
— Bernadette Moran Cacca, Manteno
“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.
“Oh crap! This is better than buying a $23,000 commode!”
“Or dropping a deuce and blaming on my classmates! Aunt Sonya was so proud of me that day,” Bernadette M Cacca reminsices.
“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!”
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.
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!
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…
“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
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.
The Manteno Wonder and ex-GI wants to mine more Craptocoin the old fashioned way, from N.F.T.s — Newly Formed Turds.
MoronicArts 
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