In this corner: The Manteno Wonder, Communal Narcadoodle and Portapotty Entamanure Bernadette Cacca! In the other corner: a useless real-estate scammer! It’s a battle of nitwits to try and waste each others’ time!
Backside: When communal #narc and #Manteno Optimal Club president #Bernadette Moran Cacca graduated high school she wanted to be a wrestler. When her wrestling career as the Manteno Wonder failed, she joined the army. She kept getting put on poop burning duty and got a dishonorable discharge…from her butt.
Bernadette was in such a hurry to become a regular that she tried to run over one of the regulars at the coffeehouse. She wanted to get the runs. Gotta mine that #craptocoin and N.F.T.s: newly-formed turds for her charity singing and kazoo playing which she does only for the photo opportunity. Looks are deceiving because she makes a good dog-and-pony poop show pretending she cares. She only loves poop.
Kankakee’s newest Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) debt collector, member of “The Haggs” band and humanoid veggie Demanda Broccoli runs around the office asking her co-workers to sniff her feet.
“Get back to your cubicle, now!” Team Leader Sybil Kibble commands.
Demanda goes back to her cube, but not on the phones. When Sybil isn’t looking, she walks over to the supervisor cube, and scrawls on her marker-board, “I love Damien Hurlbutt!“
“No! Get back to your workstation and on the phones! Now!”
“OK-OK-OK-OK-OK” she snarks. Then she runs over to the executive suite and rips a fart that would make Bernadette Cacca envious.
“Did someone light a stinkbomb?” CRASS Controller Konrad Teirant asks.
Sybil Kibble spies her loose subordinate, grabs her by the crown and hauls her back to her seat.
“This is your final warning. Do some work. That’s why we pay you to come in. You DO want money, right?”
“Oh, that’s how it works…”
Sybil just shakes her head and walks away as Ms. Broccoli dons her headset.
“Credit Recovery Associates, Demanda.”
“Hi, this is Bernadette Cacca. Can I pay my bill in craptocoins? I just mined them myself…
Coming soon to the corner of Wally and Green’s! What kinda crap is Kankakee ladies’ man, barfly and wacky inventor Wally Green cooking up now?
Sponsored by WallyMobile
Introducing the new mobile phone plan from Wally Green’s! Exclusive to our stores, WallyMobile offers unlimited talk/text, a super-hard to navigate touch-screen, and plenty of not-so-yummy tracking cookies to slow your phone while consuming your data! Apply today! Be sure to pay for it using your Wally Green’s credit card as we do not accept Craptocoin.
MyDoucheBag
These extra, extra-plopsy bags are made from recycled douche and rusty canoes. With more pockets than you’ll ever need, these bags are specially designed to make sure you lose your stuff! Wally’s patented CrapStraps will be sure to tangle and strangle the wearer. Buy one get one half off (but never free)!
ScrewyLid
Are your tumbler lids too easy to take off and put back on? Try Wally’s new ScrewyLid! Using the same design our adult-proof pill-bottle lids, you will be sure you lose your top! Screw it back on, but ohhh, it’s stuck half-way again. Pick one up at Wally Green’s on the corner nearest you! Three for $7.00! (Must buy three)
Throw-a-Fit Blankets
Do you get frustrated trying to keep your fitted sheets on the bed? Now, throw a fit, every time you try to fit this throw onto your bed, only for it to fling right off. You might as well throw it away.
“Bernadette is one of their many talented performers. She plays the same two-hour set, refuses requests, then demands craptocoins! Come by on any day but Tuesday or Wednesday and enjoy the non-Bernadette singers.”
“The smelliest washrooms in Kankakee County since the dog-food factory closed down.”
“We’re losing business again. Why is it always the same eight people here?” the president of Bernadette Moran Cacca’s fan club, The Poopy Groupies, aunt Sonya Moran asks.
“Maybe we can hire that Hurlbutt kid to do his Elvis act.”
“Nahh.”
“How about we do some remodeling? And a name change? Nobody will know the difference,” suggests Poopy Groupie and neighborhood turd-burglar JB Powers.
“Not a bad idea. I’ll notate that.”
“I don’t know, Sonya, maybe we need more advertising?”
“Yeah, Dorian. That’s a wonderful idea! Woooooh!” Sonya exclaims a bit too hard, holding her brown note a bit too long.
Dorian begins to sing with excitement.
“Oh honey, don’t quit your day job.”
“Umm…Bernadette, my day job IS advertising and design.”
“Oh I mean keep going with that. I am sorry IF I hurt your feelings,” communal narcadoodle Bernadette gaslights in her typical fashion. She has the voice of an angel and the soul of the devil, leaving that bad taste in your mouth but you don’t quite know why.
Text alerts go out to every member of the Manteno Optimal Club via their CrapApp:
Kankakee Idol! Watch and sing along with the best Kankakee County singers, right here in K3! Watch our singing competition from the comfort of your own home on Cable Access 19, or be a part of the audience in Manteno. Get your free tickets now! Another crappy show brought to you by Peppi’s Portapotties! Bernadette and Peppi Cacca are King and Queen of the Plastic Throne!
Signage has been plastered all over Kankakee County featuring the big cheesy grins of the judges, craptocoin emojis, and this text:
Tomato Karen & The Haggs “They’re Coming to Take Me Away”
vs
Wally Green “Fart Your Birds”
Judges:
Bernadette Cacca Sonya Moran Dorian James
With your host, Konrad Teirant!
The day arrives. Emcee Konrad Teirant, one third of Moronic Half Assets and chief cooker of the CRASS books, hopes to make a big bag tonight.
“Live here, this is your host KT on the TV. Tonight at the Manteno Cantina, we have a real salad bar! We also have these ladies! Give it up for Tomato Karen & The Haggs as they sing “They’re Coming to Take Me Away!”
Tomato Karen Napoleon, Demanda Broccoli, Becca Frickfrick and Jamie Turnip try their very best to sing and play their poorly tuned instruments. As the crowd plugs their ears and Bernadette plugs the toilet, Tomato Karen’s ghastly wail raises in pitch and insanity – hitting a high C toward the very end – barely.
“Thank you for that, whatever that was. Now let’s hear from our awesome judges. Bernadette?”
“You guys are the GOAT! It’s a wooooooooooo from me!” Bernadette’s mouth opens wide, tongue hanging out as usual.
“Why am I craving tin cans right now? Oh, speaking of can…” Bernadette runs off stage and straight to her favorite room to mine more craptocoins because she can. It’s potty time!
“Sonya?”
“The Haggs rule this composition. It’s a woo-hoo from me!”
“Dorian?”
“This song is too repetitive.”
The crowd erupts in boos.
“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over. It’s a yeah, no from me.”
Sounds of the disappointed crowd magnify.
“Speaking of boos, be sure to stop by our bar for our awesome drink specials!” Konrad spamvertises the already mad crowd.
“Butt, be sure to text us your votes on your smell phones! 815-555-FART.”
“Thank you Bernadette. You look awesome!”
“No, you!”
“You’re a national treasure Bernadette. This next guy is a real hoot! Tonight we present you Wally Green!” The bulbous, squat, 60-something enters the stage wearing a horizontal striped polo shirt, a fishing cap, and a cheesy grin.
“This one is for alllll the single ladies out there. Wally taps the microphone, causing ear-piercing distortion in the public address system.
“Fart your owls, fart your cockatiels. Let them fly away, let them fly for free. Don’t hug your dog, don’t kiss your cat. Love is what I got so give it all to meeeeeee!”
The three judges look at each other in wonder, confusion and astonishment.
In unison: “This is the dumbest thing we saw all day. It’s a heck-no from us!”
“Be sure to lock in your—“
“No nevermind, the razzy has already been awarded. The loser of Kankakee Idol is, Tomato Karen & The Haggs! Congratulations, you’re the only act we’ve seen that’s worse than Wally Green!”
“This is Konrad Teirant signing off…ooh is this thing on?”
“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!”
Still not aware of the kind stranger returning his ciggybutt cartons, a second person calls out:
“Hey Greg, you forgot your cigarettes.”
Greg grabs the two red packs on which he had been sitting. No longer able to drive, the newly undead Greg had taken the bus to meet up with his lover, Bernadette Cacca at the Manteno Optimal Club where she is performing charity pop covers just for the photo opportunity.
Bern drives Greg home after the gig. Both get lost, not just because someone told them to scram. Fighting over directions, Bern wags her finger and tells her Poopy Groupie “I told you so.”
“What am I going to do with all these NFTs?” asks a puzzled Bernadette.
“What’s an NFT?” the newly undead Greg asks his partner-in-stench.
“Newly formed turds, my turd vault is full! I want to burn them, however they will go bad by the time I burn them all! The craptcoin market is in the toilet!”
Greg gives Bern his trademark devilish grin.
“What about formaldehyde? Don’t you load that into your turd machines?”
Bern folds her arms, turns away from her lover Greg, and walks upstairs to crap.
“You sing like a dying cow!” Bern Cacca yells out her washroom door at her next-door-neighbours The Midnight Supremes, as she pinches a loaf and then burns it in her fireplace. She has unleashed The Kraken.
Enraged, Gothic Diana Ross directs her bandmates so crank their amps up and engage the Marshall Stacks.
Bern peels out her driveway.
Patrick Oswald Splatt is busy in his Kankakee basement, developing his newest useless invention, when a certain Manteno entramanure rings his bell.
“It’s my new killer-app. Siri-al-Killer.”
“Yeah, what can it do for me?”
“It is a virus, designed to mimic Siri. Only it is seriously plotting to kill you.”
“You’re awesome!”
“Thanks. I know.”
“Yeah. So am I, that’s why I want to hire YOU!”
“Young lady, what can I do ya fer?”
“I need to unload my Turd Vault.”
Awkward silence fills the room.
“Your…what?”
“My inventory’s getting stale. I use newly-formed-turds (NFTs) to create Craptcoin. The market really stinks right now and I need to clean out my product.
Pat giggles. It has been a long time and he feels good to laugh at someone else’s expense again.
Pat and Bernadette make a food baby together:
Pat’s junk email go into circular files across the globe. Meanwhile, the craptocoin market falls further into the bowels of the abyss.
Desperate, Bernadette sends out this flyer. She made it herself:
Bernadette slides into her shack, waves to her husband Peppi high off stinky skunkweed, and runs down her basement stairs, nearly falling down and smacking her big mouth on the concrete. She disarms the gate and the two Turd Machines guarding her massive Turd Vault, only to find her precious turd-collection missing.
“Oh no, where did they all go! I bet it was JB the Turd-Burglar, he stole my crap, I just know it.”
Bern’s smell-phone rings, playing her favorite GG Allin song.
Before she has a chance to answer, she spies Undead Greg sitting in a corner of her basement.
“Hey. My turds are gone, Greg!”
“That’s greeaaat.”
“How is that great?“
“They were delicious,” the undead Greg tells his fartner Bernadette. “These things keep me going. Unlike other zombies, I don’t neeeeed to eat rotting flesh. Recycled food is goooood-forrrr-yooooou and tastes better tooooo!”
“Here I sit all broken-hearted, tried to crap but only farted,” a forlorn Bernadette “Bern” Cacca sings on her porcelain throne, practicing kazoo and accordion. She lights a fart, burns her doodoo in the fireplace, then makes a call to a Northwestern Illinois bar on her smell phone.
“Poopy’s.”
“Hi, my name is Bernadette Cacca. I’m a famous singer near Chicago.”
The bartender giggles.
“I have a wonderful offer to make your bar.”
“May…I take your order?”
“I would like to open a Poopy’s here in Manteno.”
“I thought you were from Chicago!”
The bartender continues to giggle as he hangs up on Bern.
To increase her bottom line of attention, money and bootlickers, communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette offers to sing and play her accordion cover songs at a charity event to raise money for the victims of the Russian war against Ukraine. She dreams about all the praise, awards and photo opportunities she can gain from making it look like she cares. She does not raise money for this or any other cause because she feels concerned about the efforts of living beings trying to stay alive, fighting or fleeing a psychopath trying to take over their beautiful country. She just loves to pretend.
Bern heads home from a long day working her and her husbands’ business Peppi’s Portapotties, excited to burn the porta-poopies in her fireplace, only to be interrupted by a phone call.
“Hi, Bernadette…ummm…Cake-Uh?”
“Cacca.”
“Yeah, I am calling about your gig at the Gaslight Bar tomorrow night.”
“Oh hiiii! I am THRILLED about playing this extraordinary gig at 7:00 tomorrow night.”
“Good. We are calling to tell you about a slight time change. Due to staffing shortages, we need to move your gig back an hour.”
“I am a pillar of the community and a national treasure! Your tone is not appropriate for someone doing business. I would get used to people like me.”
“So are you coming or not? We have other guests who want to play and help—“
“Okay, okay, see you tomorrow. Don’t forget it!”
Bern teams up with local cybercrook Pat Splatt to develop her pretend money Craptocoin. The bum-waste-bin overlord thinks it is cute to sell Craptocoin at the charity event and decides she will solicit tips using her funny money.
“Hello Manteno! Thank you all for coming! Let’s raise some money! Gimme your requests! CraptoCoin only, my handle is @BMCacca! Maybe you already doing it, and that’s awesome!
ALSO, a shout-out to my extraordinary hairdresser @lilacroule from Croule, Young and Lovely who keep me lookin’ good! AND, my makeup by fabulous @marigoldyoung! So much love to their salon. Practices are things done more than one time regularly, and I have been practicing hard for tonight’s fundraiser! That’s why I call them practices!”
“And…without further ado, give it up for the Manteno Wonder herself, Mrs. Bernadette Cacca!”
A slow clap is heard, mixed in with hoots and hollers from Bern’s obsessed fanboys.
After finishing her last accordion cover tune for the first half of her set, “My Fart Goes Boom”, Bern runs to the washroom, humming “Let’s all go to the restroom” as she poops and farts.
Mrs. Cacca emerges, approached by a Chicago television reporter.
“Hi Bern. I would like to interview you. We got a press release—“
“Not now, after.”
“I have other stories to cover. Let’s do this now.”
“The show must go on.”
“I am from Ukraine and have family there.”
“Fair enough, let’s do this interview up on stage. We will both look awesome up there!” Bernadette gushes.
The Chicago TV reporter enters stage right, Bernadette stage left. Reporter Elena Emm stops to remember her questions so she can begin her interview.
An impatient Bernadette sighs loudly, whistles and hums.
“Why are you staring off into space? Are you in a fantasy world?” Bern snarks, snickers, thinking only Elena can hear her.
“I am blind,” the reporter advises the oblivious Bernadette, unaware a camera operator is filming the entire interview.
“Here let me touch your face,” the ableist and ignorant Bern belittles the Chicago TV news reporter, reaching for her face.
Elena knocks Bernadette unconscious with a single blow to her piehole, then proceeds to yeet her into the crowd of bootlickers.
“This show is getting entertaining” Gothic Diana Ross says to her bandmates, The Midnight Supremes, who are waiting in the wings.
“I may be visually impaired, but I’m not stupid” Elena Emm says to the crowd who had poured in to find out where their entertainer Bernadette had gone, only to have that communal narcadoodle chucked right into a pile of them, knocking the fanboys over like a set of bowling pins. Strike!
Happy she got a scoop on the poop-mistress extraordinaire, Elena and the news team head back to Chicago to produce their segment for the next morning’s newscast.
“Next up, give a hand for these lovely ladies, Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes!” announces the emcee, who had called the Manteno girl group last minute to replace their annoying neighbor Bern Cacca on the bill.
Neighborhood turd-burglar and assistant property manager JB Powers takes over Moran Properties after Sonya disappears, hoping to take over, helping himself to the skims of the profits (and maybe some turds too). Marty the Mailer-Daemon comes into the office with mail, JB freaks out.
“No, I’m just a daemon now. A mailer-daemon. The dead letter office transferred me here after I got my fork in the road message.”
JB runs out the office screaming, computer unlocked. Marty glides on over to have a look-see.
“Shall I format, see colon? Naaah, let’s look for buried treasure. Ahh! Oooh, there are some skeletons in these here file closets. Tenant files, ashes of former co-workers, dead bodies? These remains to be seen!” Marty thinks out loud as he sighs and takes a moment to process the newly uncovered data in his inter-dimensional mind.
Satan wants to have a word with his intake clerk, Lucy Furr. He takes the elevator up from his basement C-Suite to pay her a visit at the desk, where she reads the rules and regulations to the long line of newly damned souls, after they have signed their lives away.
“Why did you assign a Sonya Marie Smith Moran to the pale yellow isolation lair? It says right here that she’s to go directly into the jagged rock and bubbling excrement pits!” Hell’s CEO and owner demands of his underling, who had bullied a young autistic lady on a school trip to Italy, before working as a receptionist at many a doctor’s office on Earth.
“I’ve been doing this job for more than ten years–“
“Lucy, I don’t need a resume. I already know your entire life’s history, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Aunt Sonya’s been gone a long time. Who’s gonna run the show around here, and promote my wonderful gas…I mean this fantabulous venue?” Craptoqueen Bernadette belts.
Manteno Optimal Club barista-bartender Ant D. Yu just shrugs.
“I know honey, let’s have a contest,” bartender Dorian James suggests.
“You’re the GOAT!”
“No, YOU!”
Later that evening, the show goes on.
“It’s Sunday and YOU KNOW what THAT means!” orates emcee Konrad Teirant, 1/3 of traveling Vaudeville troupe Moronic Half-Assets.
“Drinks on the hoousssse!!!!” a patron heckles.
“No, silly goose. Do you want to do this job for me?”
“Of course!”
“Not if my wife has her way!” Konrad giggles, gives a snarky grin.
Eight-foot dumpster clown Madeline “Madwoman” Topolla-Teirant emerges and drags the former member by his…er…um…hair.
“It’s talent show time! The winner of this battle of the bands will take over as the brand spankin’ new president of the Poopy Groupies! Let’s have a hand for our first contestant, Wally Green!”
A slow clap echoes throughout the hall of the most Optimal Club in the Northern Illinois town known as Manteno.
I’ve got craptocoins Waiting just for you Made one hundred percent of some Port-a-poo
Come on, get some new From the doo-doo-doo Get them from her dookie vault Before she Bern’s them all!
I really like your art This is coming from my heart It smells just like my farts From the cheeks that I did part
How will I get in touch Do you use Whasapp much? You will make ten grand From this craptocoin plan!
NFTs for sale Hot and ready for you From Bernadette’s cloaca The old, old fashioned way
NFTs for sale Hot and ready for you From Bernadette’s cloaca The old, old fashioned way
Disarm the turd-machines Guarding Bern’s turd vault If you feel kinda funny, It’s not your fault
They smell really bad But they’re really cool Sliding from her bum Into your inbox!
I really like your art This is coming from my heart It smells just like my farts From the cheeks that I did part
How will I get in touch Do you use Whasapp much? You will make ten grand From this craptocoin plan!
NFTs for sale Hot and ready for you From Bernadette’s cloaca The old, old fashioned way
NFTs for sale Hot and ready for you From Bernadette’s cloaca The old, old fashioned way
Stop all this confusion Pardon the intrusion
I really like your art This is coming from my heart
It smells just like my farts From my cheeks that I did part
How will I get in touch Do you use Whasapp much?
You will make ten grand From this craptocoin plan!
(Wally beat-boxes out his butt)
This is all for you, no money down!
NFTs for sale NFTs for sale Hot and ready for you
NFTs For Sale Hot and ready for you From Bernadette’s cloaca The old, old fashioned way
NFTs for sale!”
The bulbous 60-something takes off his fishing cap, bows, then tucks his gut back into his trousers.
“That…was…interesting! Wally Green you guys!” MC Konrad announces.
“Who’s our next contestant, competing to win the heart of the farty princess herself, Mrs. Bernadette Cacca?”
Crickets chirp.
“No-one? Now certainly we have some competition? After all, he does own Wally Green’s Drugstores! ALL OF THEM!”
Konrad’s growing frustration begins to show across his wrinkled face, eyes on him, all six of them.
“Going once…going twice…gone! We have a new president!”
The portapotty empress, queen of the throne Bernadette Moran Cacca, reluctantly crowns her new fan-club president, Mr. Wally Green. A few people clap, the rest, “Craaap!”
“Now you’re gonna work for ME!”
“You mean, I can’t just stare at your beautiful face? You should smile more often, honey!”
Lil Ms. Craptocoin Bernadette Cacca drags Wally by the ear, into the back room, to talk about her backside table of contents.
Made from Newly Formed Turds (NFTs) mined the old-fashioned way, Manteno’s very own bog witch and doo-doo-gooder Bern Cacca says: “Craptocoin can put poop back into your backside! Have a good do your business day!” – B.M. Cacca
Be sure to wipe and flush. Don’t forget to wash your hands!
MoronicArts 
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