What better a place to yeet Manteno’s biggest communal narc-a-doodle, ex-wrestler and self-proclaimed queen of the porcelain throne herself, Mrs. Bernadette Cacca?
Just think, she could have that whole lonely moon, err, planet to herself. What a waste NOT to send her on a rocket there! (Or a trebuchet, her neighbors are not picky).
https://news.sky.com/story/nearby-exoplanet-stinks-of-rotten-eggs-scientists-discover-13175259
“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:
“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!”
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.”
Kankakee drugstore clerk, covert narcadoodle and self-proclaimed Number One Elvis Impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt spies his number one crush Gothic Diana Ross riding the bus. Hoping to impress her, like a peacock shaking his tail-feathers, Robbie flexes by doing pull-ups on the railing. Diana looks away, trying to hide her laughter.
Robbie continues flexing at the bus station, dancing around like a moronic fool as the rightfully uninterested gothic beauty Diana falls asleep, waiting for the Midnight Supremes to pick her up.
(Thank you for the prompt and the tip, Jennifer!)
Here at the Moroniverse, we have a whole collection of Kankakee Countys’ best bent carrots, not sold at a Wally Green’s near you.
Gather ’round the table, and chew on this:
Kankakee bill collector, Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Glee Club member and self-righteous narcadoodle Pam Frickfrick is such a huge Elvis fan, she bought up every single dancing Elvis bear she could find. Her favorites have built-in sensors to start singing, dancing and farting on her co-workers every time they walk by.
“You know, I wrote a book, actually seven. I know something about money. Let me tell you about–“
“I just want to speak to your supervisor.”
Before Pam has a chance to talk the guy out of escalating the call, Lead Debt Collector Sybil Kibble walks up to her cube, chomping on a dog biscuit.
“You know, Pam, we are losing money because of you.”
As Pam continues to ignore her supervisor and instead bothers the person about his dubious debt, her harmonica collection, alphabetized, and her obsession with stealing lawn ornaments, the robot bears sing and danc to a garbled recording of “Burnin’ Love.”
“Hey Pam, I think we have our new on-hold music!”
“Just wait a sec–“
Sybil knocks down all the android ursids into a big box and yoinks them from her subordinate. “Get back to work!” Miss Kibble commands to Pam, taking the cacaphony chorus line to Operations Manager Mikey Philips for a little dissection and maybe some vivisection, too.
Pam begins to smell smoke, gets up, stares across the office.
“Who’s got the cigarette?”
“Go back to work Pam!” the entire collections team chants in unison, shaking their collective heads.
Thankfully the smoke alarm stays silent for a change. Sybil hates farty horns.
The Manteno Optimal Club joins the village in congratulating its new mayor.
Wally Green, drugstore owner, wacky inventor and newly elected president of Bernadette M. Cacca’s fan-club sits and waits his turn to talk about opprtunities to sell more CrapStraps, StrangleTangles and Sleevies in Manteno.
Other Poopy Groupies Peppi Cacca and Dorian James wait in the hall, as the room is overflowing. Kankakee debt-collector Sybil Kibble tries to talk the village into letting Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) build a second location there. After all, what’s better than one collection agency to hound you about unpaid medical bills, than two?
A very desperate-for-dookie-downloads Bernadette Cacca burps, then bursts into the room, belting her newly formed tune:
“Buy Craptocoins, they are good for you, made from 100 per cent, recycled port-a-poo!”
“Mrs. Cacca, you need to add yourself to the agenda first before taking the podium.”
“No, I don’t need any immodium, I’m regular now!”
The new mayor waves Bern away like the waft of stench she brought in.
“Where have I heard that song before?” Wally Green thinks aloud, then blows his nose into one of his monogrammed hankies.
“Who brought the bullhorn?”
Gothic Flo of The Midnight Supremes just shakes her head and enjoys the popcorn.
Taking a break from her shift in the boiling lava and bubbling excrement pits, newly damned malignant narcadoodle Sonya Marie Smith Moran decides that it’s time to take a break. She takes the elevator down to the food court and walks into a Buckstars.
The shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture and narc-a-doodle walks up to place her order.
”Hi, I’d like an extra large, hot—“
“You can’t order here.”
“OK…where do I order?”
“You’ve been banned and not allowed to come back here.”
“Why? I’ve never even been here.”
“You’ve been banned,” the ogre robotically repeats, tag on her shirt reads “Jovaan.” “You’ve been banned and not allowed to come back here.”
This is not your typical Buckstars café.
“So, do you sell coffee here?”
“You’re being SO RUDE!” cries the customer ahead of her in line, a 40-something haggardly blonde banished to eternal darkness for breaking a man’s heart, harassing her employees and leaving a wave of destruction behind her everywhere she went.
“Who are YOU?”
“I’m someone who thinks you’re being rude. Very rude, lots of rude, you’re so rude rude rude rude–”
“I don’t even know ya lady!”
“I’m someone who thinks you’re being rude. Very rude, lots of rude, full of all the you’re so rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderuderuderude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rudity Rudy rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude–” cries the damned fool who thinks she runs the place, Jamie.
She’s not the first – nor the last – to try and take over Hell.
“Go away now! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE!“ cries the imbecile running the counter, waving her arm with an evil grin on her face.
“Okay, okay, okay, calm down you morons!”
Before Sonya could run to the coffee and donut shop across the hall, someone rather familiar pokes Sonya on the back.
“Mom?”
“Hey darlin’!”
“What brought YOU here?”
“Oh, just raising daughters just like you!”
The two humanoid raptors share an embrace.
“Grandpa’s holding a hot barbecue! We’re having a family reunion. Wanna come down?”
“Maybe. What are they grilling up?”
“I know. But, will they serve coffee?”
Mrs. Moran stands there shaking her head, feathers ruffled. Then she poops.
“Now get out of here, you rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderudeRobloxRubixCube rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderuderuderude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruminating rume rube rude ruderuderudeude ruderude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderuderude rude ruderude rude rude ruderude rude rude rudity Rood Rudy Randy Rhodes rootin tootin’ rude rude rude rube!” goes the word-salad barfed up all over the coffee-shop floor, by their own barista.
The damned all think they’re hot…umm…stuff.
Manteno port-o-dump proprietor extraordinaire, communal narc-a-doodle and turd-machine operator Bern Cacca wanted to sell her bottled farts, butt dang it, someone beat her to it.
Sulking, she lights her gas blasts to spark the poopy-burning flames instead.
The Queen of the Plastic Throne enjoys watching the port-a-potty waste gleam in her fireplace, as she sits in her rocking chair, drinking root-beer while watching GG Allin videos.
Bern Cacca is #PoopingForKaitlin (and Stephanie).
“Of all the turd-machines I’ve bought, I love Wally Green’s the most! I get great deals on them, buy one/get one half off (but never free). The other brands just don’t measure up. I love my Turd Machine Deluxes because I can keep my vaults safe to mine Craptocoins the old fashioned way!”
— Bernadette Moran Cacca, Manteno
Also known as “International Thank A Debt Collector Day”, Kankakee bill-collector Sybil Kibble thinks this day is just keen. Next time she calls, throw her a dog bone or two to celebrate this uniquely moronic holiday (just not the Brand X kind).
MoronicArts 
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