Tag: bernadette moran cacca

Vehicular Spectacular

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Hey, sis, Bernadette’s enabler aunt almost ran me over tonight!

Carla Moran and her closet alcoholic sister have made it a habit to eat dinner over at Bernadette and Peppi Cacca’s house next door. You know, those loud stinky idiots who complain about our music. Those shapeshifting vultures rarely used to come here to visit the bog-witch except on occasion at holidays. Carla and Sonya flew in from Albion, Indiana, after doing sky donuts looking for carrion, I’m sure.

Tonight when I was halfway through the street, the aunt of that stupid communal narcadoodle Bernadette made a left out of Bern’s parking lot and nearly hit me. I waved at the driver, to alert her to wait. Nope, stupid moron kept beeping at me.

I screamed at her, and then flipped the bird once I had safely crossed. Her family is chock fulla enablers and I wish someone had taken the aunt’s keys away by now. Stupid fool drinks wine by the box! Hey, I’m no angel however I am in recovery and it’s daily, hard work. Ya know what? I do it.

Diana

“Hey, I am almost to the bank, I’ll text you later.”

–Sonya

k

— sent from a jpay phone

Hey, my dahling niece Bernadette. The bank is closed. I ran all the way there only for them to close on me! Their ATM is broken. Sorry I cannot bail you out. When is your trial?

–Sonya

Not soon enough. I cannot believe this community allowed this to happen to me. I do so much for you, I do so much for them. I am an Actor/musician/writer/piano bar empress who raises money for charity. I paid to heal 1000 blind men on TakTik all with craptocoins straight from my bum! I am God, and in prison, about to be hung from a cross. This is all their fault!

— sent from a jpay phone

Diana is fed up with the Caccas’ and Morans’ shenangians:

Hello sir:

May I please submit a tip to you regarding a drunk driver? I almost got hit by her Friday around 7:15PM at the intersection of Kant Street and Utica Ave in Manteno, Illinois. Her name is Sonya Moran and she lives at 1304 O’Brien Ave, Albion, IN. She is a closet alcoholic and usually starts drinking around 4:30 PM daily.

Can the police please keep an eye on that area? I don’t want her to hit anybody. It almost happened to me. I think she drives a white crossover of some sort. 

I want no drama, just want to keep people safe.

Sincerely,

Trisha Cobb (Gothic Diana Ross)

Bernadette gets desperate for bail money by leaving fake reviews using her jpay mobile phone, which she loaded with craptocoin:

Bernadette Cacca recommends Black Kow Manure

I met a recommendation by someone on this page writing how Mr Pat Splatt helped her earn $10,000 with $700 weekly on forex and craptocoin trading, wow I’m happy to let you know that it’s so real contact him now to know how its works and start making profit on craptocoin trades. Whatsapp: +1(815) 555-1896

“Success doesn’t come to you, You go to it… I’m not the one to call you to invest and have a bright financial situation. If you know what’s right, you’re supposed to contact him now and start trading ASAP”

Stylish interior

Tasting menus

Curbside Pickup

— sent from a jpay phone

“Come on Bernadette, we’re letting you go home.”

“Bail reform in my favor?”

“No, your farts are a safety hazard and pose a security risk to the other inmates.”

“Woo-hoo! I’m free!” Manteno’s favorite fake-do-gooder, communal narcadoodle and entramanure does a little happy dance, gyrating her hips like she’s pouring soft-serve from her bum.

Bernadette is in such a hurry to become irregular that she nearly runs over one of the regulars at the coffeehouse. She is a crappy driver.

She wants to get the runs, Gotta mine that craptocoin and those NFTs: newly-formed turds for her charity singing and kazoo playing which she does only for the photo opportunity. Looks are deceiving because she makes a good dog-and-pony poop show pretending she cares. 

She only loves poop. 

Bernadette calls her husband Peppi to let him know that she is free from jail. “We need a new jingle for our portable john business.”

“Like a hole in the head we do!” Peppi replies.

“How about we do a mashup of Lincolnshire Poacher and Funeral March for a Marionette and you rap over it? I’ll play the entire song on accordion and kazoo.”

“Mayyyybeee…” Peppi chortles as he takes a huge drag off his skunky joint. The Caccas love to smell bad.

Leona Krabalsky scowls at Sybil Kibble the whole time she is in her range of view at the Bourbonnais Buckstars. Leona’s evil gaze goes right through Sybil and she smiles wide intentionally, because she is living her best life and wants it to show. She cannot wait to taste that initial sip. 

“Can I ask you something?” Leona asks Sybil, despire her body language giving off a glaring “no.”

Sybil makes her way back to her table to drink her iced mocha. Meanwhile Kankakee County troll Leona follows her to her table to spam her some more with her unsolicited advertisements of her nosey questions.

Sybil waves her arms to assert Leona “no,” however she asks anyway. “Where did you get that bag, I like that bag.”

“No means no!” Sybil chants, grabs her things and leaves. No Area 31 Bag sale for pyramid schemer and hag Leona.

Frustrated with her lack of business, Leona Krabalsky makes her way for home, the Exit 315 interchange. As she sulks, a mad driver squeals her brakes as she pulls over to Mrs. Krabalsky, nearly hitting her.

“Hey where did you get that bag?”

Stunned, Leona’s eye open up wide, her jaw drops.

“Area 31.”

“Did it come from outer space?”

“No, but I can get you a deal that is out of this world.”

The two morons shake hands, Sonya Moran peels away, her niece Bernadette Moran Cacca smiles with her tongue hanging out.

Sonya and Bernadette head toward Manteno and the Bradley police car makes his usual patrol up and down the main drag — or does he?

Happy to be free from jail Bernadette heads upstairs to the washroom and pinches a massive loaf, not even waving to her husband Peppi sitting on the rocking chair, drinking moonshine.

“Time to mine more craptocoin! My turd vault is fresh out.”

A siren heard in the background, gets louder, its doppler effect fading as the decibels rise.

“Ooh, party horns!” Bernadette jumps for joy.

Bernadette tells her aunt about her prison stay:

“I had an absolutely epic month in jail. Had the ENORMOUS pleasure of police reading my terrifically, bigly, colorful rights in a flashy car. Stellar food — included with cot are THREE HOTS and many visits with friends from far and near. Wow. Here’s to Kankakee County Jail.”

“What are you on, hon?” Peppi asks his wife Bernadette. “Can I get some of that?”

Bernadette’s smell phone rings but she does not answer, too busy gushing about her fun times behind bars and all the friends she made. “They are totally going to give me community service, I just KNOW it.”

Bernadettes phone continues to ring as she continues to ignore it.

“Darn it. I did not know these fools were going to pay in Craptocoin.” Leona says to her sister Doris. Leona makes a call to someone else.

January 14, 2023, was the last day I performed in person with other people. I was at The Manteno Optimal Club, and I re-live-streamed my shift because I honestly wanted to encourage people.  I thought, “This will be an interesting experiment for a couple of months or however long they keep me in this silly prison cell.” ONE MONTH LATER, and a BIG thank you Aunt Sonya.”

“Wooo-hoo!” the histrionic Sonya screams as she runs and then jumps onto her man Bingle-Derry, spindly legs wrapped clear around his waist.

“Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Manteno Police. This is not a joke.”

Peppi opens the door, glad that his stash is well hidden.

“Are you Mr. Peepee…Cacca?”

“Peppi.”

“We need a word with your wife. Is she home?”

Bernadette retracts in fear, stunned she could possibly be in trouble. After all, she thinks she did nothing to deserve her jail sentence. Her mind races as she prepares excuses.

“We heard that you were dealing in some funny money.”

“Oh not her, she is a WONDERFUL person,” Sonya tells the cop.

“I am asking Bernadette.”

“Sir, we can talk about this. Here, how much do you need for your funding? Let me get you a coffee and–“

“Don’t bribe me unless you want arrested.”

The smell of Bernadette burning her turds overwhelms the cop, who coughs his way out the Cacca homestead.

“Oh hey officer, ya got a minute?” Gothic Diana Ross asks, gesturing for the cop to come over to her next-door home.

The gothic singer and the officer exchange information and a wandering Leona Krablasky slaps Di five.

Bernadette gets yeeted from her home and back into the clink where she belongs, along with her aunt Sonya who is thrown into the drunk tank.

Much to Bernadette’s dismay, and the delight of her fellow inmates, the jail chef changes the menu to a bland diet.

Crabapples Don’t Fall Far From the Tree.

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran swoops down on her Manteno, Illinois bog-witch daughter Bernadette Moran Cacca, just to waste her time.

“What ya looking at?” the communal narcissist, Bern, asks her raging narc-a-holic mother.

“Nothin’ much!” Carla replies like a schoolyard child.

“No really, there is nothing original about you,” Carla squawks into Bern’s face and then flies away back to Albion, Indiana.

Bernadette plots out revenge on her mother and everyone else who she has ever met, on a mission to seek supply after that narcissistic injury she received. Then she poops.

MoronicArts Classics: A Steaming Pile of Love

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

“I know! I know! — Damien

Bourbonnais narcissist, neckbeard and pool-toy enthusiast Damien Hurlbutt, working the concession stand at Cinema-13, tries to sell a customer some “Non-Parallels”

“Do you mean nonpareils?”

“Oh, these are non-parallels.”

“I will just get some popcorn with butter then.” 

In walks a rather foul-smelling couple. 

Bernadette Cacca’s Turd-Eating Grin

“Hey, can I speak to the manager?” Manteno communal narcissist, Optimal Club accordion-player and port-o-dump partner Bernadette Moran Cacca asks Damien.

“OK Karen. He’s busy,” Damien says in his usual monotone voice, not even looking at Bern, too concerned with filling popcorn and listening to the copier in the back office create a pile of ticket facsimiles so he can hopefully woo women with them.

“We have a meeting at 2 to discuss advertising our porto potty business with a Mr. Konrad…Teeerant?”

“I know, I know. It’s Teirant. Rhymes with ‘tyrant.’ Walk over to that door and knock.” The bulbous neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt points to the door simply marked “Manager” getting a glimpse of Bernadette Cacca’s behind as she and her husband Peppi make their way toward Konrad’s office. An evil grin fills Damien Hurlbutt’s face, with bedroom eyes to match.

Image: black-and-white cartoon set in an office. A man and a woman wearing crowns face a man sitting down on a chair with the text: "Teirant Cinemas."
The Caccas submit a proposal to do their business.

After the meeting, Bern, Peppi and Konrad emerge. Bern beelines toward the washroom, pinches a massive loaf, and stares at it in awe. She is so proud of her creation, almost afraid to flush it down. Since she has nowhere to burn it at the multiplex, she reluctantly pushes the handle and washes her hands in the sink. At least she did that. Damien ogles Bern’s round bum as she and her beau Peppi exit the theater.

“Fill up those popcorn bags!” Konrad commands his clerk Damien. “Friday I expect to make big bags at the release of the new rom-com. We partnered with our advertisers to increase the bottom-line. This one’s gonna be a game-changer. Make me a sign.”

“Yep.” Damien heads to the back office to draw and make more color copies of movie tickets on the company’s budget. 

While working on the sign, Damien’s brother Robbie calls his flip phone. Thinking it’s one of the many OKStupid ladies he messaged, he answers.

“Hey honey!”

“Damien, it’s Robbie, you dork.”

“Sorry.”

“Can you get me a job at the theater? Wally’s cuttin’ back my hours again.”

“Maybe. Hey, there’s this cute chick coming in Friday for the new premiere.”

“Groovy. Can I meet her?”

Image: a black-and-white cartoon of an Elvis impersonator's face, wearing a devilish grin.
Swarthy Elvis impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt

“She’s married. But I have first dibs.”

“Riiiight.”

“Hey, I got a free ticket if you wanna come down.”

“Do you think your boss will let me work with you? If you really love your brother you will ask your manager. It’s really selfish of you not.”

“Come down and see the film. Friday night.”

“Later.” Damien and Robbie disconnect…for now.

Peppi and Bern Cacca are loafing away inside their run-down shack in Manteno.

“These maxi pad commercials always come on when I am watching TV. This is Star Trek. Men watch this show,” Peppi whinges.

“Hey Pep. I got this handy-dandy new laundry basket. Would you like to come with me to the laundromat?”

“Why? Bern, I try to help and you won’t let me.”

“Oh come along for the company. You’re fragile. I can do it all. Maybe you can hold doors for me while I haul all our laundry in.”

“So I can watch? Yeah, no. I am busy.”

Peppi walks into his bedroom to get away from his wife, lights up the skunkiest joint he’s got and guzzles moonshine.

It’s showtime. In walks Bern Cacca wearing her accordion over her Peppi’s Portopotties shirt, bearing the caption “King & Queen of the Throne.”

“Hey, Bern. We have changed our mind about your advertising strategy. We think playing accordion while Peppi raps about portopotties is not a good idea,” Cinema-13 owner Konrad Teirant tells Bernadette Cacca.

“Oh, Peppi stayed home. I wanna belt some crappy show-tunes instead.”

“It does not take a genius to figure out that we both need to make money. Sing at home, preferably with the windows shut. We designed a new ad, and we think you’ll like it. It will play halfway through the movie. A new rom-com premieres tonight, “Steamy Love.” We expect a big bag from a big turnout. Your seat is on me.

Image: a black-and-white cartoon of a neckbeard behind a cinema counter. Text: "Cinema-13" and "Peppi's Portapotties."

“Hey M’lady. Would you like some popcorn?” theater clerk and neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt calls out to Bern Cacca.

“I’m good, thanks. What a lovely theater you have!”

“Aww, shucks. Hey M’lady, Madame. What is this lovely lady doing when the film lets out? I can get you free tickets if you meet me at the Gaslight Bar.”

“I’m busy.”

Bern heads to her seat, excited to see all the theater patrons, and tries to make friends with as many as possible, hugging, shaking hands, and calling them “darling”. Bern thinks she’s everybody’s friend, and reminds the crowd of all the favors she does for charity and her enablers.

The film begins to roll.

At intermission, the new ad for Peppi’s Portopotties plays, interrupting a scene depicting two people kissing, and a prominent plot point. Will the lady choose her secret lover or go back to her husband?

Image: a full-colour cartoon of dancing porto potties, parodying "Let's All Go To The Lobby."

“Let’s all go to the washroom

Let’s all go to the washroom.

Let’s all go to the washroom,

And take ourselves a dump.”

The patrons run to the restrooms, but not to crap or whizz.

They barf up the popcorn, candy and pop, for which they overpaid at the concession stand.

Too nauseous to stay for the ending, the crowd of moviegoers leaves Teirant Cinema-13 in droves.

An angry Bern Cacca leaves the multiplex, worrying about her squeaky-clean image as a singing fool who raises money for the Manteno Optimal Club, and gives rides to friends because she loves to look good.

Image: a color cartoon of a heavy-set, middle-aged woman angrily walking past a concessions stand. A heavyset middle-aged man with an orange beard, wearing a black fedora is standing behind the counter, with the look of love in his eyes.

“Hey honey puddin’ — what are you doing right now?” the bulbous concessions clerk Damien Hurlbutt asks Bern Cacca as she passes the ticket counter.

“I have a date. I’m leaving you guys.”

“With me, my dainty queen?”

“No, you moron.”

“How about me?” pops up Damien’s brother Robbie Hurlbutt, emerging from seemingly nowhere.

“No, with JB, the Turd Burglar.”

Frowns fill the faces of the Hurlbutts, while a devilish grin fills that of Bern Cacca as she embraces the neighborhood Turd Burglar, who has been waiting for her in the parking lot.

Konrad Teirant counts his ticket sales, all smiles because he does not plan to offer refunds. He had made his big bag and takes it home to lie in it, spreading the cash all over his bed, rolling around in it and over it like a dog.

Walk, Do Not Run.

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Manteno communal narc-a-doodle, entramanure and poopyburner Bernadette “Bern” Moran Cacca had got in Gothic Diana Ross’ face and screamed at her, saying that “she’s sick of her and her spoiled brat personality,” and calling her “stupid, lazy and stuck-up” after eavesdropping on her talking about her job working as a veterinary technician. Apparently, Bernadette fails to comprehend that a vet tech is a freaking nurse for animals, and that it’s not nice to listen in on other people’s conversations. Bern is a moron.

When Di walks away, choosing not to engage, Bern tells her to go tattle to her mother “like she always does.” Yeah…no. 

“I just said I wasn’t going to be treated like that,” Diana tells the other Midnight Supremes Gothic Flo and Gothic Mary.

“She said that she hates me and she can destroy me. I just left. And she was drunk. This is a woman who hasn’t even left the country, can’t speak another language, can barely read, yet she throws shade behind the scenes when she’s not kissing the butts of her friend collection. She called me irresponsible for listening to the vet over her. She works at a portapotty company when she is not singing cover tunes for charity, tips and giggles. Why should I listen to her? She’s a volunteer. Not a vet. She thinks she knows everything, and that she’s God’s gift to Manteno.”

Bernadette peels her turdmobile out her driveway, over to the Kankakee Riverview district, hoping to race. After the drivers start heckling Bern, she joins the side-show to heckle the drivers who have rejected her. Bern needs to get better hobbies.  

Bern uses her butt-trumpet to shame the drivers she does not like. She feels so proud of every fart with which her cheeks part. The hecklers turned violent, turning over a minivan driven by a woman and her two kids. Police catch on to what Bern and the rest of the sideshow kids are doing, and catch up to the three-ring-circus.

Bern gets arrested and charged. Terrified about her reputation, she makes a phone call to her aunt and promoter Sonya Marie Smith Moran, who does not answer.

“Can I pay in Craptocoin? I just mined them myself, the old fashioned way, from NFTs! Newly Formed Turds,” Bernadette asks the bailiff.

“You’re an idiot, Bernadette.”

Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Sonya Moran is standing behind one of the low-income apartment complexes she operates, talking to her sister-in-law and bird of a feather Carla. 

“I’m running,” Sonya tells Carla over FaceCall.

“I did not know you could jog.”

“I got another job. I don’t interact with people much there.”

“How many people did you tick off?”

“I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to work.”

The Albion, Indiana WallyWorld self-checkout clerk self-rates her store 5/5 stars as Kitty Bee gathers her groceries and receipt. She calls her out on it.

They had stopped doing that awhile back ago and now they are up to their old antics again. Kitty grabs a candy bar, scans it, and pays, saying aloud to the moronic clerk: “I am turning your five into a three as I rate you a one,” making sure to look her in dead in the eye. She then reports the clerk’s ego-inflation to the Manager On Duty.

“I have done my good deed for the day,” Kitty says to herself as she drives home.

“Sure, honey, I’ll bail you out,” Sonya says with a smile in the WallyWorld washroom. Enjoying her new job, the president of The Poopy Groupies savors the idea of enabling crappy behavior. Then she takes a dump.

“Sonya, I need a word with you,” manager Eduardo tells his new employee, as she emerges from the ladies’ room. 

“Your behavior is unacceptable.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“I think you know what you did,” Eduardo says, pointing to the self-checkout area. “I don’t need your services here any more. You are dismissed.”

Sonya is frozen in place, shocked by the unexpected news.

Meanwhile, her phone rings rings away, playing kazoo-covers of show-tunes, much to the dismay of all the customers shopping at Sonya’s very busy former place of employment. 

“God hates cats and he hates demoncrats!” Sonya screams as she gets yeeted by WallyWorld security, squawking and flapping her wings all the way home.

Does My Breath Smell?

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran flies into the bog where her unwanted daughter, swamp-witch Bernadette Moran Cacca hangs out, perching on a nearby rock.

“Does my breath smell?” she asks a perplexed Bernadette as she breathes her stinky air right into her face.