Kankakee debt collector Sybil Kibble thinks this CRASS page is a real treat: https://facebook.com/crassllc
Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble had her turkey-flavored dog treats. She offered her mother JoAnn some, who declined. Sybil gladly ate her mother’s portion.
Let us wish Kankakee’s biggest dog-food fan a happy birthday! We hope your day is a real treat!
“Oh snap, that’s the last bite!” Kankakee debt collector Sybil Kibble exclaims as she shakes the now-empty bag of dog food, and turns it upside down. “I am really hungry too.”
Sybil hops in her white Chrysler LeBaron and drives down to Wally Green’s drugstore. As soon as she steps through the door, demoted pharmacy clerk who thinks he is Elvis, Robbie Hurlbutt greets her.
“What can I help you find today?”
“Do you have any Dog Chow?”
“We are fresh out.”
Sybil exits, walks by Robbie’s purple clown car with a giggle and gets behind the wheel of her LeBaron.
Sybil parks in the “Expectant Mothers Only” space at Schmucks grocery store and walks in. “Who is going to know I am in menopause anyway?” Sybil says to herself as she walks through the automatic door.
After a thorough combing of the pet food aisle, Sybil comes up empty. She hopes the third time is a charm, and drives over to Bucketheads hardware store.
After walking past the 11% off everything sign, Sybil hopes to save big money on dog food, which she usually scores toward the back of the store. However she strikes out yet again.
Sybil gets on her smart phone after exiting the store and calls Wally Green’s 1-800 customer service number. After spending 45 minutes in the on-hold abyss, the call disconnects. She tries two more times and her call gets disconnected immediately.
Sybil walks back into Wally Green’s to try and figure out what is going on. She asks to speak to the Manager on Duty. “I am sorry you are having trouble reaching our customer care line. Our representatives are trained to keep hanging up on all callers until the queue is gone.”
Angered, Sybil Kibble needs to do something to relax. She picks up a newspaper and reads the headline: “Nationwide Dog Food Shortage.” Sybil slams down the paper and storms out, heading to the local bar. “I need a drink,” Sybil mumbles to herself.
Sybil sits down at the bar. Before the bartender can even wait on her, barfly and notorious ladies’ man Wally Green emerges.
“Oh, hi Wally.”
“Can I buy you a drink, hon?”
Sybil accepts because she is cheap.
Wally begins to bore Sybil with his tall tales about his family almost having inherited most of Manhattan Island.
Sybil interrupts Wally’s rambling:
“Hey, why are your stores out of dog food anyway? I am so hungry.”
“Oh yeah, I have a secret stash at my house. Wanna go back to my place?”
Sybil looks Wally in the eye sporting a devilish grin.
The pair arrive at Wally’s McMansion. Wally offers wine, she declines.
Wally starts to bore Sybil about his road trip to Florida as he really likes the heat.
Sybil interrupts and asks about dinner.
Wally offers to cook her a romantic meal. Sybil agrees with excitement.
“It will be a surprise. I know you will love it!”
Visions of dog bones dance in Sybil’s head. Wally emerges from the kitchen with a plate full of gefilte fish, and Sybil almost pukes.
“You’re not impressed?” Wally asks.
“Umm, no I eat dog food.”
“You’re a bill collector. Makes sense. If you stop calling my store, I will give you some cans of Alpo.”
“That’s my favorite kind!” Sybil exclaims. “But I won’t take you off my list. You owe us too much money.”
“Then will you kiss me?”
Sybil gags and dashes out Wally’s McMansion, back to her own, where she settles for cat food instead.
Kankakee debt collector and dog food enthusiast Sybil Kibble hopes to find a bone with her name on it.
Sybil Kibble unveils the new “Enigma” computers for her debt collection team. “How do you get on the Internet?” asks a quizzical Dale Davis. “Just type “INTERNET” and then “RUN.” “How do you load the Collect-o-matic 2000?” a wary Judy Avelli asks. “Just hook the machine up to a parakeet cage and type away.”
Kankakee bill collector and dog food enthusiast Sybil Kibble wants to double down on debt but her debtor isn’t buying it.
Join the Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) and MoronicArts fanpage on Facebook!
Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kantrina Kibble went out to the grocery store looking for some doggy chow to eat on her lunch break:
Sybil is busy calling up people and bothering them right now, so this is Jen here filling in.
Some people have been asking about the inspiration behind such a silly person.
Back in 2014, when I lived in Illinois, I had been receiving relentless calls on my mobile phone from a collections agency in Kankakee County. It was ridiculous. No matter what I did to block these fools, they would find another number to call me. I was in an abusive marriage, disabled from a brain disease with no cure.
I had to quit my toxic job due to my illness. My former supervisor was harassing me, threatening to fire me if I do not come back to work even though I had already applied for disability retirement which was extremely pending and dragged out as was Social Security Disability. I had no income, no support system and was in extreme neurological pain.
I created Sybil in response to the constant harassment from the moronic debt collectors who could not care less about my situation, and started writing to help cope with my extreme physical and emotional pain.
I named her — ironically — after the tragic Oscar Wilde character Sibyl Vane from The Picture of Dorian Gray.
Sybil’s middle name Katrina comes from a villain I had created as a ten-year-old when I used to draw comic books on notebook paper. I wish I still had those. Her surname Kibble, of course comes from her love of dog food.
Her look was mostly based off an extremely miserable co-worker at the toxic workplace from which I had retired.
I used to pass through Kankakee and stop there off Route 57 on the way to Chicago for medical treatments.
I originally intended to make Sybil an evil, narcissistic character but I did not think that was funny. Now Damien and Robbie Hurlbutt — another story for another article. Stay tuned.
“Fifth time today. Who is this moron?” Kankakee student and barista Ant D. Yu asks his partner.
“Hang up.” Dorian James says to Ant.
“Brandon’s Imbecile Machines. That’s is. I am blocking these fools.”
A knock is heard and Ant checks the peephole. The uninvited guest pounds the doorknocker.
Ant opens the door.
“Oh, hi Sybil.”
“Hey Ant. Do you have any dog food? I am hungry.”
“No Sybil. I told you before. Our family does not have a dog. But thanks for stopping by.”
“Okay. I did not know if you guys got one now.”
“Have a good day Sybil.”
Ant closes the door and a disappointed Sybil Kibble heads back to her McMansion down the street.
Sybil’s phone rings as she strides home. After she walks into one of her three garages, she checks her caller ID:
“BRANDON’S IMBECILE MACHINES
Sybil sees that this entity has called twelve times in the past three days and because of this, she blocks their number from calling again. She then heads inside and munches down on some dry doggie chow.
Gothic Diana Ross, a Kankakee singer and impersonator, is busy pulling up her black fishnet stockings when her phone lights up.
“Who is this?” Di thinks to herself and checks her screen.
“Brandon’s Imbecile Machines? Block.”
Di stares in the mirror for ten minutes, puts on her eyeliner, then starts listening to her own singing.
Brandon Dixon, owner of Brandon’s Imbecile Machines, is getting frustrated by the lack of response to the new phone campaign for his lifted truck lot. He remembers a tactic he had learned during his tenure at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) in Kankakee, and changes his mode of operation.
Ant Yu gets a call from an unknown number. He is in the habit of screening his calls and lets it go to voicemail. The next day, he checks his messages, and deletes the voicemail from “Brandon” asking him to call back, who has not explained why he had called.
Sybil gets a voicemail from Brandon and deletes it. Gothic Diana Ross does as well.
Brandon is again frustrated by the nonexistent return on his low-budget marketing investment for his overcompensated vehicle lot.
Knowing that Kankakee slimeball Pat Splatt might be able to hustle on his behalf, he calls. Pat teams up with Robbie Hurlbutt to try and spam people all over Kankakee by stealing Fakebook Martplace accounts.
Pat Oswald Splatt, or POS for short, develops a Fakebook virus to steal accounts for Brandon. It is disguised as a video featuring a picture of Sybil Kibble eating a can of cheap, wet dog food. Pat’s buddy and partner-in-crime Robbie Hurlbutt snuck it using his mobile phone, in the company break room, when he worked at CRASS for two weeks.
“Check this out, Robbie and Brandon!”
Pat shows off his newly minted virus, disguised as a video, designed to slide into Fakebook Martplace instant message boxes all over Kankakee.
“Kankakee bill collector eats dog food for lunch” reads the caption below the fake video that is really a virus.
“Once people click on this pretend video, the virus will send US the users’ login credentials. We will start by replying to Fakebook Martplace ads. That way we will find suckers really easily.”
The room fills with laughter.
“I based the virus off code I used to program a broken 1989 Atari emulator, accidentally broken on purpose. Those were my script kiddie days, back when I used to try and own noobs.”
“You are a noob, Pat.” Robbie snickers.
Pat launches the virus and Robbie gets ready to collect the login credentials so he can pool them into a spreadsheet.
Days go by…nothing.
Pat tests the virus and it is operational.
“Are you sending the virus out, Pat? I am paying you to do this.” Brandon asks.
“I am sending but nobody is a-clickin.”
“How about we step it up and generate a whole bunch a windows?” Brandon asks Pat.
Pat modifies the virus code to replicate multiple windows featuring Sybil Kibble enjoying her doggie dinner. The recursive windows end up crashing some computers, while most others fail to get infected at all, as the ancient technology powering the virus gets caught by even the most basic pop-up killer.
Brandon storms in on a sleeping Pat Oswald Splatt, curled up in his chair listening to a Robbie Hurlbutt Elvis impersonation video on a loop to try and increase his watch count.
“That’s it, I want my money back! I made nothing off your crappy viral marketing campaign!”
“Who-what-um-who is this? Hello?”
“Quit the drama! I want my money back!”
“Oh, hi Brandon.”
“Don’t hi Brandon me. I need my money back and I need it right now!”
“You will get your money back alright. Your bank charge failed because you had no money. You cheap fool!” Pat exclaims at Brandon and falls out his squeaky metal chair.
Brandon begins to laugh.
“Oopsie.” Pat giggles as Brandon leaves his former partner-in-crime and dials up another goofy plan in his head.