
We made it another year around the Sun. Thank you readers for ingesting these tall tales of the Moroniverse. Yum.

We made it another year around the Sun. Thank you readers for ingesting these tall tales of the Moroniverse. Yum.
Maybe Peppi’s Portapotties King and Queen of the Throne Peppi and Bern Cacca can tag-team Wally Green to mass market this craptastic product.
Manteno’s very own Bernadette Cacca, Queen of the Porcelain Throne and communal narcadoodle brags and boasts about everything whether people want to read it — or not.
“I am on my way to Chicago now to do a potty job! I have only been there once and I have lived in Illinois my ENTIRE LIFE!”
The one-time wrestler and dishonorably discharged soldier Bernadette peels out her Kant Street driveway, thinking she’s drifting, when she is really just a drifter.
“This traffic is crazy! I have never seen it this way!” Bernadette says as she makes her way up 57 toward 90/94, weaves in and out of traffic, nearly clipping an 18-wheeler. Pretty red, blue and yellow lights shine down from the heavens and illuminate the dazed and confused Cacca.

“Oh hi Officer! My name is Bernadette Cacca, you may know me from–“
“License and registration, ma’am.”
“I love your perfume. Are you having a baby?”
“No, I’m just fat. Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asks a befuddled Bern, trying to hide the frustration in his face of having just been misgendered.
“Pulled me over? Little old me? I’m a star you know. Here, have a sucker.”
“I’ll let that go for now. You were going 99 miles-per-hour and you nearly caused an accident.”
“Oh beautiful, come here. I will buy you a drink and comp you at my next show.”
“I am writing you a ticket for the speeding and issuing an appearance ticket for bribery.”
“Let me speak to your supervisor.”
“Slow down, Karen,” the cop orders Bernadette as he hands her two the tickets she had rightfully earned and safely merges back into traffic. Meanwhile, Bernadette pulls out her smell phone, texts and pulls away as she barfs up this monstrosity onto The Poopy Groupies Fakebook page and Instaspam:

Then she poops her pants. Gotta mine that Craptocoin the old-fashioned way: by making NFTs (Newly Formed Turds).

Manteno’s own Peppi and Bernadette Cacca might seem like empty characters at first, however there is a much darker side to them. Like all my characters, the Caccas are inspired by a combination of real people.

I have known Bernadette’s main inspiration my entire life. She had lived next to my grandmother. As kids, she was the entitled brat who wanted things her way or the highway. I used to try and dodge her, running the other way because she annoyed me so much, but then she would not leave me alone.
I clearly remember her insisting on calling me my deadname, despite my pleas for her to stop. Bernadette hasn’t any concept of boundaries and neither does her main inspiration. She just pretends to care.

In high school, she had found a way to manipulate people into thinking she was a wonderful person. I had to ask her an urgent question for a design I was creating for a play in which she starred, right before I had to catch the bus to trade school to design it. Instead of turning around and answering me, the “stage manager extraordinaire” sitting atop a desk kept talking faster and louder to the other student, drowning me out.
To add insult to injury, the real-life communal narcissist tricked the teacher into making ME apologize to HER. I will never forgive her for that abuse.
The real-life communal narc had been working on an app-only HBO show of some sort and playing piano for an LGBTQIA+ charity. You read that right; the same person who deadnamed me repeatedly is raising money for an LGBTQIA+ cause. Hmmm…
Now she is gaslighting people into thinking she cares about the Russian invasion into Ukraine, singing at charity events to raise money, and course to get that almighty photo opportunity. My best friend and her husband have family in Ukraine; this is personal for me. I do not care about a moronic photo op when my friends and their family are fighting for their lives, running from a DIC-tator who wants to bring about the Apocalypse.
I read she yelled at a late-night television host for getting too close to her piano. This behavior does not surprise me, having come from a person who has a history displaying her sense of entitlement to those closest to her.

I created my character to help cope with a lifetime of abuse from a narcissist who tricks virtually everyone into seeing her mask, which I suspect has been crumbling. I hope it falls off for good and she slithers away into a life of obscurity, working by herself, abusing nobody. Or maybe she will live out her life in the bog, devouring the living like the character whom she had inspired, Bernadette Moran Cacca.

Have you known a person like this?
Peppi Cacca’s name came from a rabid doorman in Italy who sexually assaulted me. Character Peppi Cacca’s main inspiration is a toxic, former neighbor who had stunk up my apartment with skunky weed and sadly abused his cat. I had gotten the idea from Pepe LePew and used to call him Pepe LePuke as I heard him through the ceiling vomiting every morning while he was upstairs visiting his boyfriend with whom he was having an affair. I am so glad to be out of that apartment complex, and in a much quieter, cleaner place – waking up to birds in the trees, not skunk-weed stench.
Awhile back, I had overheard him on the bus bragging to the driver about his drinking, making the excuse “can you blame me?”
I blame him for his own behavior.
Bernadette “Bern” Cacca has driven to Okanagan, British Columbia, Canada to seek out the last known copy of “The Wonderful World of Dung.”
Sidetracked, Bernadette goes on a Monster Quest: to find Ogopogo. Bern is hoping to mine some Craptocoin from its poop to make a special variety of Cryptidcoin called CraptoCryptidCoin.
“I totally have to get a selfie with this monster.”
Hours pass, no sign of the legendary sea monster Ogopogo.
“Hey, anybody got some Ogopogo poop? I want to make a sculpture outta it. I’m a famous content creator and influencer from Illinois!”

“Who?”
“Don’t you know who I am?”
The locals visiting the lake roll their eyes from one side to another, slowly.
A group of offended Canadians hoist the relentless Bernadette into a cannon and very politely yeet her from the premises. Bernadette is good at getting yeeted.
“Sorry,” the crowd chants as Bernadette flies far far away, and then they slow-clap for her performance.
“What was that thing?”
“Swamp witch?” The man scratches his head and the crowd disperses.
Bernadette calls the bootleg tape seller, Gary, on her smell-phone and meets up with him at a local poutine shop.
“How much do you want for the tape?”
“Do you accept Craptocoin?”
“No, sorry, only cash. That’s how you pay for stuff, eh?”
Bernadette checks her pockets which come up empty.
Penniless and disappointed, the entramanure drives back home to Manteno, Illinois in the U S of A. She and her husband Peppi burn some poopies from the portapotties which Peppi had brought home from a job and emptied into a bonfire out back.
While watching the poopies gleam, Bernadette looks over at her stoner husband Peppi laughing his bum off at a video he is watching online using his phone.

“Git!”
“Oh honey, not now. Maybe later on.” Bern declines Peppi’s mating call.
“What are you watching?”
Bernadette looks over Peppi’s shoulder to read his PooTube screen: “The Wonderful World of Dung.” It had been posted a year ago.

Bradley barista, narcadoodle and former wrestler known as “Calm Down” Jina Hansen badly projects her own insecurities onto her coffeehouse staff to try and puff herself up.
“How many more drinks will you spill this week?”
“Come over here. Look at this and tell me it’s done right.”
“Stop treating your staff like crap!” a regular tells Jina.
“Oh they are my friends, we are only joking,” the 40-something Jina gaslights, as she tapes a customer’s receipt to the forehead of her 17-year old trainee.
Jina drives home and cries, losing sleep over the shell of herself she has become, knowing she will never get to be as good as she wants to be in life because her standards for everyone — including herself — are impossible. Then she craps her pants.
“Calm Down” Jina Vs The Manteno Wonder
It is the year 1997, in the month of May, day the first at the Bradley Amateur Wrestling League (BrAWL).
“In this corner, standing at 5’4”, weighing 250 lbs is Bernadette Moran, the “Manteno Wonder!'”
“In the other corner is her opponent, 240 pound 5’6” ‘Calm Down’ Jina Hansen!
“You beat me last time, kiss your beeehind goodbye!” Bernadette shouts.
“Calm down, calm down!” Jina gaslights.
“I’ll give you calm!”

The two Kankakee County wrestlers go at it.
Stagehands wheel a couple of beds into the ring and the ladies start to jump like five-year-old children. The crowd boos Jina and throws tomatoes, peaches, eggplant, radishes, and ranch dressing into the ring at her which make a sloppy mess over her bed.

Jina picks up the salad ingredients and shoves them onto Bernadette’s bed.
“Clean it up!”
“I’ll clean YOU up!”
“Calm down! Calm down!” Gina gives her familiar line which makes The Manteno Wonder anything but calm.
Bern knocks the crap off her bed and chucks it crap at Jina, who slips on the dressing spilled across the ring.
Bernadette pins Jina with her bum. Then she farts.
“One, two, three!” the referee chants as they beat the floor and the two jump up, Bernadette’s hand raised in victory by the ref, Jina’s farty head reeling from the stench, stomach about to retch.

It is the last time Jina ever wrestles. She is disappointed to find out it is all an act and goes back to her old job harassing customers at a local donut shop.
Listen to Dale leave a message for a debtor based after Sybil Kibble barfed up this silly idea:

“We need to increase our bottom line,” CRASS CEO Mack E. Avelli tells his entire staff in the board room.
“Size matters.”
Laughter fills the entire room.
“Our budget is only so big and we need to increase our revenue to exceed expenses. We could only give so much to the Optimal Club last year and we had to shortchange the Kankakee Medicine Pronouncing Competition, even though we had already committed. We need good ideas, only the best.
Dale raises his hand.
“I know. I have a really good idea. How about we do things the Dale way this year…”
Mr. Avelli sighs.
“No just listen up. I’m worth your time. How about we spend less money on charity? That way we will have more money for the things we need. It all makes sense. We can do things the way we have been doing them, or we can do things the Dale way.”
“That’s enough Dale. We need to look good for the community. Image is everything. Who will go next?”
“Maybe we can hire more people to cut back on overtime? I am swamped with purchase requests!” Linda Stay says.
“Nice idea, but work faster,” Mr. Avelli snarks.
Sybil raises her hand.
“Sybil Kibble! What is YOUR grand idea?”

“I know. How about we call up and say we are “Kristy” from Management. Ask the debtor to call us back. We have no Kristy working here. Block caller ID so the suckers will not know it is us!”
“Great idea Sybil! Change all scripts immediately and don’t forget to double down on every call, everybody!”
The collectors get to work.
Calls come in.
“I would like to talk to Crispy?”
“Crisco called. Hahahaha.”
“Is the Cisco kid? My router is stuck. Can you fix it?
“Yeah I hear I won a free trip to Frisco. When do I go?”
More calls roll in.
“Yeah I heard a manager called me. I wanna speak to the manager. This is Karen.”
Team Leader Sybil Kibble cannot keep up with the call volume. The Collections Representatives keep transferring all their calls to her because they keep asking for a manager. After all, the messages stated a manager called for them!
The phone system shuts down due to Denial of Service, in other words a system overload.
“What are we going to do?” CRASS CEO Mack E. Avelli asks Sybil Kibble in her office.
“Act more ethically next time?”
They share a laugh.”
“Carrier pigeons,” Mr. Avelli smirks.

It is CRASS business as usual.
Art student, con-job and sociopath Pat Splatt is proud of his entourage of fake identities, many starting with “Al” for Alias. His pretend friends go online to bother marginalized groups, pretending he is one of them so he can try and make them feel excluded via cultural gatekeeping. Too bad Pat has so much time on his hands.

“He can come and do my laundry, fold it and put it away if he’s that bored!”
— Sybil Kibble, Kankakee

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