Bourbonnais cinema clerk, neckbeard and communal narcissist Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt was last seen near Area 51.
While cleaning out his ex-employee’s desk, Teirant Cinema-13 owner Konrad Teirant found Damien’s scribbled-on evaluation forms. Behold, the work of a master-moron!
Bourbonnais cinema clerk, neckbeard and communal narcissist Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt really wants to reconnect with a m’lady he saw in a Kroger grocery store. Do you think she will respond? He fudged his age a bit, typical con job. Maybe she will come into Teirant-13 Cinemas so he can catch a whiff. Maybe.
Not only am I a writer and cartoonist, I am also a musician. When I write about these silly characters, I listen to a certain playlist dedicated to just them.
Each character has a theme song. Not only does it remind me of said character, it gives the reader insight behind the character’s personality, behavior, and interests. Please stay tuned as this list will grow over time.
Back in 2017, I wanted to create a character inspired by my parents’ elderly neighbor who would call them several times a day, asking for favors, not taking no for an answer. Her original name was “Katy Scary.” However I felt the need to make some changes as the neighbor had gotten ill and sadly passed away.
Instead of modeling the Hurlbutt matriarch after my parents’ neighbor, a former co-worker came to mind who fit the personality and loo of the character I was developing..
Some time ago, I had worked in a call center. If you had to call T-Mobile and were greeted by “Rep 12-3456”, that was me, and yes that was my real ID. Seated to my left was a young male who told tall tales of going to Afghanistan over the weekend and coming back to work on Monday. Seated to my right was this lady who wore muumuus to work every day, until our supervisor complained about her violating our already casual dress-code.
This 55-ish slovenly lady asked me for help with her workstation and her calls. I have always loved to help people, however I felt this woman took advantage of me by asking the same questions repeatedly without showing her appreciation. At this call center, we could all relate to the challenges working with our customer base and would go up to a random representative in the break room and vent. However, the main inspiration behind PJ seemed like she was uncut for the job due to her poor emotional range. She had no regard for boundaries, just randomly talking to people bugging them, even if they had made it clear they were busy.
Back in 2019, I parodied the Peloton bike ad which raised controversy from its sexist overtones. I drew her son Damien dreaming up the idea of buying one of their bikes to help his mother lose weight.
Of course, her next-door neighbor Sybil Kibble thinks PJ is great, because she is just as moronic.
Neckbeard, communal narcissist and Area 51 test subject Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt is busy thinking up ways to escape his captors.
“Hey Damien, we have an Easter surprise for you!” the guard says to the imprisoned moron who tried to storm the underground Nevada laboratory, thinking he could get away with it.
“Oh boy, oh boy! What is it?” the creepy fool asks, devilish grin spreading across his face and day-glow orange beard. Visions of over-the-top baskets fill his head, not unlike the ones with which he used to love-bomb his targets of potential narcissistic supply.
”If we told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise!”
Damien, filled with glee to be free from his cell and daily flatulence testing at the Alternative Fuel Source Department, the world’s largest source of natural gas is led down the hall. He and the guards make their way past the cafeteria, aliens and deejay. Happy to hear some Starland Vocal Band over the intercom, Damien wonders what will make his afternoon delicious.
Much to the delight of the staff, and dismay of the nitwit Damien, he gets strapped to a table. A tattoo artist emerges, and begins to carve egg-shaped designs into the narc-a-doodle’s bum at the Pain Tolerance Department.
Two-timing Rachel Shelley came over from Detroit to meet her OKStupid lover, Damien Hurlbutt, only to cheat on him with Kankakee heroin addict and useless hoser Leon Peeonne.
Cinema clerk, neckbeard, and communal narcissist Damien continues to leave “M’lady” messages from his flip phone. He thinks he is going to win because he is such a “tenderheart” and “an old soul.”
“Get back in the kitchen, this pot is about to boil over!” Madeline Topolla-Teirant calls out to her husband, Konrad “Kon” Teirant who is reading the CRASS company ledger in the washroom.
Kon washes his hands, flicks the water on the floor (a trick he had learned from Teirant Cinema-13 clerk Damien Hurlbutt) and struts into the kitchen. He sets the ledger atop a shelf in the cupboard.
“Madeline, I can do this myself. No need to tell me how to cook. Go on and watch the kiddos.” Konrad gestures Madeline to leave the room.
Konrad stirs the pot of his turkey soup. He made sure to put in loads of veggies because they cost less than turkey. Konrad hears a loud banshee-esque squeal come from the living room and dashes out.
“Bratley? What are you doing?” Konrad walks over to him.
“Waaaaaaaaaah! I want my toys!”
Konrad yells at Bratley because he has little patience for children. He only had them because he can. He usually leaves the parenting to his wife Madeline because he would rather make money. Meanwhile chaos unfolds in the kitchen.
Chanel # 6 and * climb up the kitchen counters, tear up the CRASS ledger into a confetti mess and put the flakes into the soup like they are special spices. They hear their daddy coming so the close the cover of the book back up and place it back on the cupboard shelf so they do not get in trouble.
“I told you kids not to play on the kitchen counters! Now go do your homework or you are going to bed without any supper!”
Kon begins stirring the pot.
The next morning, all of CRASS is sent a company email to announce the new CRASS initiave:
From: Teirant, Konrad (konteirant@crass-llc.con)
To: CRASS, LLC (all-crass-l@crass-ll.con)
Subject: Food for everyone!
Dear CRASS employees:
It is with great pleasure I announce the newest CRASS publicity initiave: Triple down on each call to raise money for the new CRASS Stage! If we raise enough money to name the Kankakee Senior Center stage after us, we can help promote CRASS, LLC as a community leader.
To help celebrate our new publicity effort, I brought in turkey soup, enough for everybody this time! Enjoy! Be sure to only log off during your designated 15 minute breaks to enjoy my cooking.
Most importantly, remember to ask each debtor for three times what they can afford to pay! Submit a Form 5 for each triple-down. Each bonus will go toward the stage-naming initiative to make CRASS look good, instead of your paycheck. You do want to keep your job, right?
Happy Monday!
Konrad Teirant
“Want some soup?” Dale asks Sybil. “I’ll spoon feed it to you,” a hopeful Dale says with a grin.
“Go away, Dale. I have work to do,” Sybil snarks as she downs a dog biscuit at her desk.
Dale slurps his soup at his desk before he logs onto the autodialer.
Operations Manager Mike Philps helps himself to two bowls while he watches the collectors stress out over asking for three times what the debtors can afford.
“Why aren’t these folks making production?” a stern Tara Bull asks Sybil Kibble as Tara sips some greasy turkey soup.
“I will keep on pushing for those Triple Downs and Form 5s.” Sybil tells a beleagueured Tara.
Kon sits in his office surfing Fakebook Flat-Earth pages as well as the Qannon droppings. He feels his belly begin to rumble. “Must be a quake of this flat planet,” Kon says to himself as he gets up.
A line forms outside the CRASS washrooms. Tara Bull joins the queue. “Why are people taking so long?” Tara mumbles under her breath.
A stench wafts from the mens’ room. Konrad emerges.
“Did I do that?” Kon slyly asks. The lined-up employees giggle.
CRASS Chief Mack. E. Avelli walks over the the office of Mike Philips to order fixed the toilet Kon clogged.
Since Kon’s idea failed miserably, he took the rest of his greasy, tainted turkey soup to Teirant Cinema-13 to “treat” his employees there.
“Ooooh, thank ya boss! Well actually, I just constipated myself by eating six antacids in a row so I do not have to use the toitie all night!” a certain clerk named Damien Hurlbutt excitedly tells Kon.
“Thanks for the information. Enjoy and get to work.”
Damien drinks the soup right down.
“Ahhhhh.”
“Puttt” goes Damien’s butt.
“Pardon me. Pheeeeeww!”
Damien’s stomach begins to grumble, really grumble. Damien gets up, ripping more farts as he walks and does the Scoot-And-Poot to blast as much gas he possibly can.
Konrad looks for Damien and he is not at the ticket counter.
“Where are you Damien? People are lining up and they need to buy their tickets. Imma gon fire you if you do not come back!”
MoronicArts 
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