“I’ll give ya a free ticket if you come watch it with me, M’lady…” Damien Hurlbutt would say with a tip of his fedora, before he got canned.
Teirant Cinema-13’s Newest Flick
Tag: comedy
MoronicArts Classics: A Steaming Pile of Love
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.
“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.
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?”
“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.
“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?
“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.
“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.
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Walk, Do Not Run.
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.
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Get Your Wallyt Over at Wally Green’s!
Coming soon to Wally Green’s: The Wallyt! This wallet made specially by the man himself Wally Green, has a kick to it! It will kick out your stuff randomly by having a party in your purse or your pants!
All your ID cards, credit cards and cash money will explode inside your purse, forcing you to play 52 pickup!
Buy one get one half off but never free. The Wallyt only comes in green. (Sorry to red yellow, pink, blue, purple, gray, brown, and black!)
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Does My Breath Smell?
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.
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Charon Takes a Break
“Boss, can I get a vacation? I have been taking souls down the river Styx for millennia now, and I need a break,” Charon the Grim Reaper asks Satan.
“Just one day. I will ask in-processing clerk Lucy Furr to fill in while you are out, as she is your backup. You need to train her first.”
“I don’t need training, I can run circles around you!” Lucy Furr demeans the tired old Charon. The harbinger of the dead goes on vacation and Lucy takes a trip to Albion, Indiana.
The notoriously crooked couple “Scary” Barry and Terry Reynolds are having their daily, bitter argument.
“You did not unload the dishwasher!”
“Terry, you did not ask me.”
“Just anticipate it!”
“I cleared the table and wiped it down.”
“That does not even count!” Terry screams at her husband who begins to feel the onset of a heart-attack. In the midst of their creepy fight, a shadowy figure looms behind.
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Birds of a Feather Ruffle Together
Bernadette Cacca performs her heart out of her kazoo and accordion covers of songs like “My Butt Goes Boom” and “My Fart Will Go On.” Despite her best efforts, her butt-trumpet solo does not qualify her for a spot on stage at Kankakee County’s Talent Show.
“I had sung a cover of ‘Into The On-Hold Abyss’ at CRASS Idol and got NOs from all three judges after four seconds. I was good,” Sybil Kibble replies to the drama unfolding all over the talent show’s Fakebook page.
Having the voice of an angel and the heart of the devil, Bernadette is jealous that her neighbors Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes got a spot, the entramanure and communal narcissist known for her charity piano bar recitals did not. Sucks to be her!
Bernadette calls upon her Poopy Groupies to raise a stink.
Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran works as a sterile supply technician at an Indiana hospital, eating all the gross stuff off the medical equipment before it goes into the autoclave. She flies into her home, missing the roof again, after visiting one of her 10-plus “scadiate” nests around Albion as she says.
“Ana walks by me three times, that’s three times. Not once, not ONCE did she say hi!” Carla gossips to her sister Sonya.
Butthurt because people are not returning her phone calls, the evil shapeshifting humanoid vulture takes to the road to ruffle some feathers, since her wings are tired.
Carla Moran takes Sonya Moran’s parking spot. The residents of Prairieland Country Club Apartments For the Disabled start squawking about it while Carla is out stalking again, saying “That’s Sonya’s spot. She’s the manager. Don’t take it.”
Carla snaps, “Sonya’s gone for the day.”
”If she was here, she would be pretty grumpy at you.”
“I will just be a minute.” Carla takes out her smell phone and texts every person in her log. Five minutes later, nobody replies so she re-sends them. Everything’s an emergency to her, so she speeds off to Illinois like an ambulance rushing to the scene of an accident.
Carla peels into the Caccas’ Manteno driveway thinking she’s a street racer. The apple does not fall far from the tree.
“Take these sacks, help your mother,” Carla says to her daughter Bernadette Moran Cacca.
“I’m not an octopus!”
“Here, let me grab them” Sonya says with a half-smile as she grabs the eight grocery sacks with her massive, pointy beak and sets them inside the Manteno Optimal Club.
Sonya Marie Smith Moran files a $4 million lawsuit in Kankakee County court against the Talent Committee, plots to take over the city and fire the current mayor since she’s still butthurt that she lost the mayoral race in Albion, Indiana. Her goal is to bankrupt the city and ruin the lives and reputations for everyone who wins the talent show. “Winning is everything!” she exclaims after she uploads the paperwork.
Bernadette rehearses on the stage at the banquet hall inside the Optimal Club. People have yet to show, including her mother and aunt out rounding up robins, vultures and cuckoos to watch their wonderful lil bog witch sing at their charity event, hoping to change the mind of the Kankakee County Talent Committee and everyone else who contributes to planning the annual County Fair.
Today, people will not give an inch. On the way to Dr. Eddie Dixon’s office, Sybil Kibble has to stop and get labs drawn, no biggie. She stops and eats her Alpo lunch. Yum!
What is this water on her seat? The floor?
Darnit, that screwy air-tight water bottle she bought from Wally Green’s took a whizz all over her bag, her phone, her masks. “Thanks, Wally!” Sybil exclaims.
After stopping for coffee, the covfefe continues over at Dr. Dixon’s.
Sybil asks receptionist Pris Dixon for a mask, she barks “we don’t give out masks here anymore,” while calling back to Dr. Dixon to try and cancel.
Thankfully a kind stranger gives her an extra one; apparently Pris had never ruined a single mask, ever. I bet she had never spilled water before and assumes other people do it on purpose.
Sybil sits down in the crowded waiting room amongst a group of mostly unmasked patients. Maybe one or two folks actually wore theirs. She sees CRASS co-worker Mikey Dixon get called in, along with Gothic Diana Ross. Eventually she gets called in and is told — guess what — her tests came back normal.
On the way home, it begins to pour. Sirens wail like a banshee. “Man, I wish they would turn the volume down on these fart-machines!” Sybil Kibble thinks out loud.
Sybil pulls over near the Manteno Optimal Club to let the fire engines and cop cars pass. Carla and Sonya Moran had smashed their sedan into a telephone pole out front. Rubberneckers look at the accident and stare, wondering what had happened.
“We flew over here to try and bring groupies Peppi, Greg and JB to YOUR show and look what YOU done!” Carla and Sonya bark at Bernadette, the Manteno Wonder.
“Are these sirens just for me! Aww boys, you shouldn’t have!” Bernadette exclaims with glee at the loud, farty horns and farts along to the noise while shaking her booty as if nobody was watching. She’s not too bright.
Sybil films the whole fracas and laughs, excited to show her mother JoAnn and maybe post to Kankakee social media. Maybe.
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Enquiring Bog Witches Want To Know…
Shall I Use WD-40?
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MoronicArts Classics: Robbie Hurlbutt’s New Clownmobile
Kankakee Elvis impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt bought a purple clown car to impress the ladies. He sure thinks it has street appeal. What do you think?
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