Tag: bog witch

MoronicArts Classics: Bern Book

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

“Story time with Gothic Diana Ross & The Midnight Supremes? At the Manteno Library? I would say that a trip to Manteno is not complete without spending a few hours at the Manteno Optimal Club with Bernadette Cacca! Hmmpf!”

“Why don’t you start your own book club, honey?” Shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Sonya Moran asks her communal narcadoodle, bog-witch niece Bernadette.

“You’re the best!”

“Butt first, a trip to Bucketheads.”

“Why are you going to a hardware store?”

“It’s my own personal prop department!”

“Hot dawg!”

Bernadette pinches a massive loaf upstairs in the washroom while tapping away at her smell phone to announce yet-another-gig her aunt Sonya got her. Ahhh, the stench of nepotism.

BOOK CLUB NIGHT, TUES with yours truly! Join me at @MantenoOptimalClub TONIGHT, AUGUST 18, 9:30pm-3am. What will I read? It’s a surprise!  It’s the hottest new event in Kankakee County!

“I never drank coffee while I was in college. I drank pop,” Gothic Diana Ross complains to the Buckstars staff about her coffee again. 

“What’s this crap? A port-a-potty made out of poop? Do you drop dookie in it, on it, or next to it?” Diana scrolls through her Fakebook feed as she waits for her iced caramel latte to get re-made.

“She’s no Bansky…” Gothic Flo quips.

“I know, we should crash her gig. Maybe we can heckle her or something,” Gothic Mary giggles.

“Well, there is this card game…ooops. Nope, we’re not old enough,” Diana laughs as she reads the community events.

“Oh darn.” The dark gothic beauties share a laugh and drive away from their Gothic Victorian home in their black 1988 Chrysler Conquest TSi.

The Poopy Groupies surround Mrs. Cacca and shower her with a gush of superlatives at the Manteno Optimal Club:

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to Illinois!”

“You make me feel like a star, Bern!”

“It’s the Manteno icon herself! You should be beatified!”

Queen Bernadette rolls out her porcelain throne and makes an announcement:

“Today, I’m here on a campaign to promote regularity!”

The portapotty empress sits on her toilet which she just bought from Bucketheads Hardware and begins to sing from a book:

image: “regular” book

“Being regular is important to me, and I hope it is EQUALLY important to my regulars. I love my Poopy Groupies! Nooowwww–baaaaaack–toooooo-the—booooooooooook!”

The Poopy Groupies hoot, holler and catcall. Yes the cat-calling is sexist but the queen of the porcelain throne does not care what kind of attention she gets, as long as she gets it and she is the center of attention. After all, she feels entitled to it since she does gigs like these for charity.

The cheering crowd of Bernadette bootlickers is cut like a knife from a few voices in the crowd.

“Why are you pooping in public?”

“Oh honey, I am not really pooping. See look, all golf balls!”

image: toilet box on a hardware store shelf. image on box of flushed golf balls. text on box reads: "Flush like a champion."

The crowd roars with laughter.

The Midnight Supremes join in on a tune of their own:

“You can’t hurry death
You just have to wait.
Charon works on his own time,
No matter what prayers you say.”

Upset about getting upstaged, Bernadette throws a fit:

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah, an unruly citizen who is obsessed with pooping!”

Awkward silence fills the hall of the Manteno Optimal Club. Eyes roll. People begin to chortle.

“I am reprising my role from the Human Body Odor EXCLUSIVE show, “Dropping the Deuce.”

A voice emerges from the crowd.

“Hey, I have a gift for ya Bernadette!”

Sybil Kibble hands Bernadette a box and walks away as fast she can. Happy for the distraction, Mrs Cacca opens her gift. “Is this for meeee? Oh you are the best.”

Bernadette shows her malcontent for the gift, and even the mere thought behind it. She rambles like a Turd Machine spitting out letter-blocks from a craft store. 

Sybil Kibble escapes Bern’s word-salad diatribe in her trusty Chrysler LeBaron as do the Midnight Supremes in their sleek sportscar.

Bernadette continues to sing and ramble like the moron that she is, as she watches her mug on the community FartTV, ignoring the confused crowd leaving her stupid book club: “Late last night when the moon green, around the corner came a turd machine…shots were fired, a scream was heard…Join me here next week as I livestream again…oh dear.”

Toxic College-y

~ Jen ~ 11 Comments

[ Sign the petition inspired by this story and read about what inspired me to write it! ]

Scary Barry Reynolds gets fired from his job as a road-test proctor for the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles, and starts his own college called “Dr. Mathew B. Johnson School of Intrepid Arts” in Albion, Indiana, teaching martial arts and telekinesis, a school he named after his favorite academic leader and best friend. 

Gothic Diana Ross gives her TV the side-eye

“Become as powerful as the Dragonball Y characters you see on TV! Develop your real life martial-arts skills, and when you get to your senior year, you’ll become a PSI-ball master!” 

“Not this ad again…” Gothic Diana Ross says across the Indiana border in Manteno, Illinois at the slate Victorian home where she and her bandmates reside. “Who wants to go to Indiana anyway?”

“Indiana wants us, but we can’t go back there.” Gothic Flo retorts and The Midnight Supremes all giggle.

Classes begin at the School of Intrepid Arts in Albion. Students practice basic self-defense, mixed martial arts and fencing.

“A new life awaits you at the School of Intrepid Arts” a flashing, talking blimp advertises as it flies over Northern Indiana and Illinois, spending a rather long time over Chicago, until someone begins to fire at it.

“Pop! Pop!” is heard as the floating advertisement-machine is gunned down somewhere on the Southside. 

A scholar gets harassed in his dorm, racial remarks litter his marker board. One moron, Pat Splatt, writes “KKK” on an empty pizza box and drops it outside his dorm room.

Protests are held by multiple school groups which make the local news.

Barry and Terry Reynolds respond to the media from the comfort of their own home.

“I will answer that later. Come back.” President Reynolds tells the news, and does not return their calls.

The scholar tries to learn to make “PSI Balls” on the internet and learns that it is fake. Meanwhile President Reynolds uses school money to pay for pet construction projects so he can hire his wife Terry’s company to do all the work.

Barry and Terry make the classes so hard, it is impossible to pass. Barry and Terry love seeing the disappointed faces of aspiring martial-arts students receive their report cards littered with Fs. 

President Barry Reynolds sends out a memo to his wife Terry using negative humor, snarking she should bulldoze “trash and idiots who live on minimum wage.” Barry accidentally copies the entire college on the email.

Oopsie!

Students start creating memes and Fakebook groups. President Barry reports them to Fakebook owner Emperor Zucc who shuts them all down. 

Students take to the news to expose the corruption.

The scholar is interviewed, and talks about his brother — also a student — who died when trying to defend a bully using “PSI Balls.”

“If President Reynolds wants to create chaos and censor those who rise up against his regime, then maybe he should move to North Korea. I bet he would feel right at home.”

Barry and Terry visit Bern Cacca bathing in the bog near Manteno, Illinois, for public-relations advice hoping to clean up their image, since Bern is so good at maintaining her squeaky clean image while doing dirty those closest to her. Oh, and she burns poopies.

Bern Cacca bathes in the bog

“Bern Cacca? We have an important message. We need your help.”

Bog Witch Bern keeps on swimming.

“Bern? We have something to tell you.”

Bern continues to ignore the looming Terry and Barry.

“Bern? We want to know how you keep your image so clean while you do others dirty.”

“Can’t you see I am taking a bath?” an angered Bern yells back, hoping to be left alone.

“Oh you are so…RUDE!” Terry snarks at Bern. 

“I am busy. Go away.”

“God hates ugly people! I am calling the manager!” Terry says out of desperation and fear.

“I am the manager.” Bern replies as she shoos away Terry and Barry. 

“I wish my hearing aids were broken.” Peppi Cacca says to his wife Bern and the Reynolds couple leaves.

The Indiana Attorney General investigates and shuts the school down, and the story makes television headlines.

“Oh good, we no longer have to see those annoying ads.” Gothic Flo says to Gothic Diana and then turns off her TV.

Demanda Broccoli Gets Chopped!

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Bernadette Cacca, her husband Peppi and Demanda Broccoli all have one thing in common: Ennui.

“I saw this broad over here, had to go around her…Hi, I’m Demanda, I’m a friend of Mexico, he’s my brother,” she says to Bernadette, extending her hand to shake, holding a beer in the other. Bernadette pauses…then clarifies:

“You mean you’re a friend of Peppi’s.”

“I don’t have no friends. I tell a secret, three people know then I gotta kill both of them,” Kankakee debt-collector and humanoid vegetable Demanda Broccoli tells communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette Cacca, before walking over to her secret lover/sociopath Peppi Cacca, while they’re all sitting outside the Cacca’s Manteno homestead drinking and smoking skunkweed.

“Does Mexico have the Spanish flag?”

“No, they have their own flag, Demanda.”

“Who has the Spanish flag?”

“Umm…Spain”

“Where is Spain?” Demanda asks, guzzles even more beer from her plastic cup and then steals some moonshine from Peppi’s flask.

“Dude, you stank!” Demanda makes fun of her side piece.

“Time to burn some poopies, honey!” Not to be out-stinkified, Bernadette plays a sour note on her butt-trumpet, then lights a match.

BOOOM!

Demanda gets so blown away, her florets, stem chunks and crown make a mess all over the Cacca’s front lawn.

“Mmmmmm! Veggies for supper! I will sure done get regular now!” the bog witch cackles as she picks up the pieces of Demanda.

Undead Greg Invades Evansville

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

The dusk is hitting Manteno, Illinois. Before she has a chance to slither into her bog, a certain village trustee gets into it with a disabled veteran. Having no shame, she will do anything to put others down. The swamp witch emerges from seemingly nowhere.

“Why are you taking pictures?” Bernadette Moran Cacca bothers someone minding their own business, enjoying the sunset. Ennui and lack of narcissistic supply has given her the cravings for attention of any kind, good or bad.

“I live here. Nice night.. Nice to meet you. I’m Shanna.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s me, Bernadette, I went to school with you.”

“Oh hey, you’re still in Manteno?”

“Now you see the real me! I don’t like you. Now keep on walking.”

“Walk do not run, Bernie. The Village of Manteno has turned on its citizens,” Gothic Mary of the Midnight Supremes tells the Queen of the Porcelain Throne, narc-a-doodle-doo and washed up former wrestler formerly known as The Manteno Wonder.

“Now if you disagree with the fascist council member that also runs the Optimal Club, you will be shut down and shut up,” Gothic Mary, member of the Midnight Supremes tells Shanna.

“Oh hey, I remember you Mary, what’s up?”

“She used to get mad at my sonic sneezes that I cannot control and then peel out her driveway yelling the N-word. I had told our classmates but nobody would believe me. She was much more prejudiced than I thought but pretended to be an ally who cared about other cultures, and people in general. She actually had said she got a better ‘gold star bisexual’ to taunt me into taking her back, thinking I’d get jealous. First she was bragging on about how perfect things were going between them, that I was ‘too sensitive’ to give her what she wanted, and how she will change and mold everyone in town into something special. This town has always been great and would be even better without her and her Craptocoins.

“Who’s that smelly dude over there in the baggy clothes? Is he a meth-head?”

“No, that’s our resident zombie Greg. He used to own a sewer business until Bernadette had him for supper down in the bog. Then he got re-animated.

“Hey Greg! I hear they sell fried brains down in Evansville, Indiana,” Shanna yells out. Gothic Diana Ross joins Mary and Flo in giggling.

“Okayyyyy…In America there are three mountains in regions where it snows on top of the river and in other regions it is 180 degrees because mountains control temperatures backward towards chemtrails. Unless we make inflatable artificial bounce mountains on the face of the Moon base to control the weather, we will always have these weather problems which can be changed in five minutes. Brains? Brains branes brainnnnnnz…”

Undead Greg Schneissder wanders down to Indiana to find himself one…if only.

Greg heads to a truck stop to make a pit stop so he can empty out his toxic waste and then immediately refuel. While browsing the store, Greg shouts over to a man microwaving a packaged sandwich, “Don’t open that microwave until after it stops beeping!” The trucker just shakes his head and begins to pry the plastic upon plastic from his late night meal. “You’ll get radiation poisoning if you open it too soon. It’s in the manual.”

Greg comes up empty and eats some poopies instead, left behind some man who didn’t flush down the brown.

Ragged and scrawny as ever, Greg continues walking down to Evansville, after hitching a ride on a manure truck and sleeping in the back.

Night falls upon Evansville after the driver has delivered his business and Greg wanders toward a certain restaurant which specializes in fried brain sandwiches.

“Closed for rest and reset? What’s that?” Greg says aloud as he pounds on the window, breaking the glass. The burglar alarm goes off immediately as Greg climbs in, loiters around the restaurant looking for a seat.

“Doooooes this TV get the Aaant & Ding Show?

Undead Greg walks toward the basement to look for the cooler full of chilled brains only to fall down the stairs, crumpling into a bag of bones, a waft of dust smelling oddly like cheese puffs fills the building. Yum.

Carla Moran’s Ticket to Fly

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

“You have a wake to attend.” Undead Greg Schneissder tells his lover, the communal narcadoodle and bog-witch known as Bernadette Moran Cacca.

“What?”

“There’s some dude out there photographing a dead bird.”

“Oh that’s that millionaire from Kankakee.”

“Millionaires in Kank? They exist?”

“Well yeah, duh! His name is Mack, he owns some debt collection firm there.”

“We should start a band called The Dead Fledglings,” the undead sociopath suggests, before waking into a wall.

“That’s so uncouth!” Bernadette’s ringer starts playing a GG Allin Medley.

“Hi Mom! I see you got my Craptocoins! I just mined them fresh myself!” Bernie flushes the toilet.

“Bernadette, take YOUR shower!” the shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture demands.

“Mom?”

“C’mon, we’re going on a little outing.”

“Where?”

“It will be a surprise.”

“I’m very busy burning the poops from last night’s port-a-potty job, raising money for the Manteno Optimal Club this weekend, and devouring unsuspecting gentleman callers next time I go to my swamp.”

“Get him out!” “Get him out!” Carla screams at the baseball game.

“Mom?”

“That didn’t even dawn on me. How about you and I take a little break, have some mother-daughter time, maybe we can do each other’s pedicures?”

“Eeeeew!”

“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice!”

“Stop squawking at me!”

“No-wrong!”

“We always get into fights because you find that one thing about me to complain about.”

“You’re too sensitive, honey.” Carla gaslights.

“I have this awesome piano gig at the Manteno Cantina tonight. Wanna come see me play?”

“I know, I know, I know. So you’re not coming with me?”

“Yeah…no. That’s my final answer.”

“You mommy will miss you.”

“Good. Go have fun! Gotta run, because I got the runs!”

Bernadette hangs up her smell phone and flushes her washroom toilet again.

Carla of course calls Bernadette right back and leaves a voicemail:

“DON’T YOU HANG UP ON ME AGAIN! FINE! I will fly out to Groom Lake without YOU. We have all been wondering where your Aunt Sonya went but I guess you don’t care. When I find her, I will tell her how YOU mistreated me, and how little you’ve cared about her since she left town. You aunt cares an awful lot about you. And I love you an awful lot. Bye honey.”

Bernadette sees that she has one new voicemail from her mother, and immediately deletes it without listening. Then she poops.

Visions of vacationing in the desert by the lake, fill Carla’s grandiose head, devoid of vision. Lighthouses greet the boats passing in the night, scores of grey aliens cheer outside their ships of the space kind and wave at Ms. Moran, as she approaches the gate of the Dreamland ranch.

The next morning, Carla flies out from Indiana and Southwest toward Nevada, taking breaks to circle around with other vultures in the thermals to rest her wings. They land in Dulce, New Mexico helping themselves to a freshly dead cow, taking the back entrance and chowing down on as much carrion as they can after exiting. Within minutes, they fly away to some trees in the next town over to clean off their outstretched wings.

Carla then flies solo up toward Nevada looking for her Groom Lake vacation spot. Confused by the lack of water, beaches and boats, she stops at a diner in Rachel to ask directions.

“Dry Lake? What the heck is that?”

Disappointed by the lack of water in the Nye County surrounding area, Carla flies toward Homey Air Force Base to find her long lost sister Sonya where she was rumored to have last been seen.

Tired of flapping her wings, Carla walks over to the gate. Signs reading “No drones,” “Photograhy Prohibited,” and “Warning: US Military installation. Unauthorized entry strictly forbidden” are plain to see. She struts over to the guard shack and demands to be let in.

“Ma’am, did you read the sign?”

“My sister is locked inside and I need to rescue her.”

“Do you have ID, ma’am?”

“I have no idea where in there she is, no.”


“Do you have a driver’s license? Passport? Military identification?”

“Come here. COME HERE! I need to show you something.”

“If you don’t have proper identification, I will deny you entry.”

“I am Carla Moran. You DO know my sister, Sonya Moran, do you not?”

The camo dude just laughs.

“If you don’t leave the premises, I am going to have to call police.”

“OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK! OK!”

“Back out the way you came, and head out. Where did you come from and where are you heading?”

“Inside to see my sister.”

“Alright, I’m calling police.”

Within a half hour, the sheriff shows up and take Ms. Moran into custody, issues her a $640 citation, and sends her home.

“Oh my god, my mom’s on TV! Wooooo! Look at this, JB!”

“What’s that honey?” her second-favorite lover Mr. Powers asks. Bernadette’s husband Peppi is out on another port-o-dump run.

Bernie points at the TV and spits out her beer.

“Indiana woman with ties to Kankakee County arrested for — get this — trying to break into Area 51. Reporter Elena Ess is on the scene.”

Bernadette giggles like a giddy child on Christmas and grabs another bottle.

They’re Heeere!

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment


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Buy one, get one half off (but never free) at your local Wally Green’s! (Not valid in Manteno, sorry!)

Bernadette: Don’t watch that, watch this!

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

This is the heavy-heavy bog witch sound…on Pootube.

Not watching the Superbowl? Neither is Bernadette Moran Cacca. Instead, the communal narcadoodle, bog witch and portable washroom empress is hosting a watch party with her Poopy Groupies at the Manteno Optimal Club:

Unfortunately, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture, Ferengi-loving landlord, and fan-club president Aunt Sonya won’t be there. She flew the poop coop.

Sucks to be Sonya.

Bernadette Cacca’s New Turd Machine?

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Manteno entramanure, communal narc-a-doodle and Og-on-the-Bog Bernadette Cacca has been wanting to turbo her Turd Machines she had bought from Wally Green’s.

Now’s her chance!

As if her crappy ritual burning her company’s port-a-poops in her backyard has not been enough to irritate her next door neighbors Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes, basic Bern eyes a bigger one.

Happy UnDeath Day, Greg Schneissder!

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Nobody knows when Manteno’s very own xenophobe, gun-humper and MAGAt Greg Schneissder was born, however we do know that on July 15th, he met his fate down at the bog after communal narcissist, show-tunes cover singer and swamp witch Bernadette Cacca ate him for supper. Then she pooped him out.

The ground shook as the newly undead Greg rose from the rocks, his zombie-fied body now infected with the slow-burn virus on that fateful mid-July day. Bernadette’s farts did not help.

Happy UnDeath Day, Greg!

Five Things Bernadette Cacca is Good At

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
Share five things you’re good at.
View all responses

Nevermind me – let’s talk about the Manteno, Illinois’ very own Bernadette Moran Cacca – a communal narc-a-doodle.

She sings with the voice of an angel and has the soul of the Devil.

A proverbial wolf-in-sheep clothing, looks are deceiving.

Bernadette does charity work, pretending she cares, just for the photo opportunity.

A port-a-potty proprietor, she burns the port-a-poopies in the fireplace after lighting her farts to spark the fire. She excels at gaslighting in more than one way, because you know, she’s a narcissist.

She is great at pooping and does it a lot.

A master of her domain, she is a swamp witch who is great at luring in unsuspecting men so she can have a Donner dinner party for one.

She excels in annoying her next-door neighbors Gothic Diana Ross & the Midnight Supremes burning poops and practicing her kazoo cover tunes. She is secretly pathologically envious of her neighbors because they are talented and beautiful. Meanwhile she continues to pump out sludge like this:

Bernadette M Cacca
YOU’RE THE BEST, Undead Greg! Great to see you!!! 
Undead Greg:
Oh my! This is so much fun. Bernadette Cacca is a goddess. We’re taking over this joint! Thank you for all the great music Miss Bern.
Bernadette M Cacca
You’re the GOAT!!! 
Undead Greg:
NO YOU!