Sybil’s Spit Machine, Bees & Lawnmower-Race Woes

Kankakee bill-collector who loves eating dog-food Sybil Katrina Kibble had gone all the way to Chillicothe to buy herself a sit down model lawnmower because the hardware shop was back-ordered. She left her lawn sprinkler running, too lazy to care about water conservation.

She got to the race, mad as heck because it is a push mower race!

Too lazy to drive, Sybil wished to hang glide back to Chillocothe. However, she could not fly because she was too scared. This idea never got off the ground.

Meanwhile, Sybil’s spit machine went awry, flooding her entire lawn and Kitty Bee’s too!

Sybil lost the lawnmower race because whe was too loopy from inhaling helium.

And then she got chased by a swarm of angry bees! Woe is Sybil.

Off to compete in Fire Truck racing with her Ma JoAnn! Ooh, what fun!!! See you later!

Double Down on Dog Food Instead!

Tara Bull, Division Manager of Accounts Receiveable at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) in Kankakee, IL holds a strategy meeting with Chief of Accounting, Konrad “Big Bag” Teirant and Chief Executive Officer Mack E. Avelli. Tara thinks CRASS can increase their bottom line by using their synergetic mindset to implement the new increased production metrics.

“Making our staff work harder for the same pay will move the goalposts,” Tara insists.

Ms. Bull is Sybil Kibble’s supervisor. She asks her Lead Collections Representative Sybil Kibble how her team would best achieve those metrics. “My double-down tactic always works,” Sybil advises her superior as she munches on dog biscuits. “By telling our debtors to pay twice as much as they can afford, they will always pay more.”

“Get ‘er done” Ms. Tara Bull tells Sybil. “I do not care how it gets done. The ends justify the means.” A hovering Mack. E. Avelli flashes an evil grin and a thumbs-up gesture.

Sybil and her team spend the eight hour work day making the calls, even skipping breaks at Tara’s insistence. Dale none too happy, runs in place at his cubicle to kill the stress, checking his heart rate on his beeping wristwatch. Mikey does his usual cleaning, making the toilets clean and sparkly at his own pace. However, something does not get done.

“Sybil! Get over here now!”

Sybil hangs up on her angry caller and works her way over to Ms. Bull’s office.
“Yes?”
“You all are not making the metrics!” growls a livid Tara Bull as she chucks a pile of papers at Sybil. “Bring in the bucks or I will fire you all!”

Dale decides to try a different approach. He offers payment plans, and goes around Sybil and Ms. Bull’s hard rules. He finds his stress levels decrease as he is able to help his customers pay their bills and empathizes with them at the same time, as Dale was once down and out himself.

Sybil tries her might and cannot not double down to make her double bonus/Form 4 and metrics. She thinks to herself that if she could go home and work, she could call people around suppertime and reach more people. After all, it works for telemarketers, right?

Sybil drives her Chrysler LeBaron home, logs into her computer and starts making calls. Not long after 5:30 PM, Sybil hears a knock at the door.

“Who can this be, dag-nammit?” Sybil thinks to herself.

Image: a black-and-white cartoon of a young, mixed race woman with a cat in her lap.

Sybil opens the front door to her stone McMansion, next to the four-stall garage. “Hi Sybil. I am sorry to bother you. My cat Holly is missing and I am terrified. Have you–

“Your cat is not here, Kitty, go away,” barks Sybil as she goes back to her typing and calling.

As Kitty searches high and low for her dearest Holly-Cotton all over Kankakee and Bradley, Sybil’s Form 4s pile up. “I am winning! I am getting my Form 4’s! Gimme my Form 4’s!”

Sybil is so excited to collect all that money and make bonuses as a result via the Form 4 bonus and hopefully please her boss, Ms. Tara Bull.

“Man, I gotta pinch a loaf,” Sybil says aloud as she gets up after her last debtor hung up on her.

Meanwhile, a certain Miss Holly-Cotton, who has been hiding out in Sybil’s rather large house, needs a place to go herself. She hops up on Sybil’s messy desk and starts sniffing around. She sniffs a certain pile of papers and jumps on top of it, highlighting the entire stack!

Sybil exits the washroom, one of many, after springing a leak. She immediately spots Kitty’s cat Holly on top of what used to be a pile of Form 4’s.

“Oh my gawd, get the heck out of here you little brat-cat!” Sybil shouts at poor Miss Holly-Cotton as if she had done something wrong.

Holly gladly exits the house of Sybil and enters the loving arms of Ms. Kitty, who is waiting outside after having searched all Kankakee County for her long lost fur-baby. Meanwhile, Sybil returns to a useless pile of forms, formerly known as Four. Sybil doubles down on her nightly bowl of doggie chow.

Image: a dimly lit, black and white cartoon of a slender, 60-year old woman with blonde hair, wearing a headset. A computer workstation is seen in the background, dog treats on the desk. Text on computer monitor: "CRASS LLC"

Sybil Can’t Fly.

It’s that time again.

Kankakee bill collector and dog-food connoisseur Sybil is so excited for the annual Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Retreat in Hoboken, New Jersey, she can almost wet herself. However, she cannot fly. She does not want to fly, actually. It is not that she is afraid to fly; she just WON’T.

“I would rather take the train. That is the way to travel.” Miss Kibble barks to Mack E. Avelli, CRASS Chief.

“Do what you want. It will save the company money,” replies Mr. Avelli.

“Oh, I cannot wait! This is going to be so fun!” Sybil bursts out loud, as she runs around the office with great excitement. “I wonder what city I will see first? “Gary? Cleveland? DeMoranville? This is going to be AWE-some!” Sybil brags, while the rest of the office shake their collective heads, and sigh.

Sybil has been on her train for 14 hours. She has not slept all night. The woman behind her has been snoring and her toddler has been wailing like a banshee for the past hour.

An assistant conductor walks by. “Excuse me, what time will we be to Hoboken?”

“This train does not go to Hoboken. Your ticket says Newark.”

“What time, then?” snaps Sybil.

“We are running five hours behind.”

The train eventually pulls into Newark, after driving backward through a muddy lake, slowing for eight freight trains and stopping for six.

Sybil misses her shindig by two hours and takes the lonely train home, and her bragging rights with her.


This post brought to you by Aeroplane and the letters AA.

Sybil Joins The Gym

Sybil wants to meet some attractive, fit men, so she decides to join the local gym.

Sybil sees a sign for a free, week-long membership for new members and immediately sashays in to sign up. 

After giving away her address, mobile number, credit card number, work history, email address, and blood type, Sybil is ready to go work out.

After attending a mandatory lifting instruction class, a separate machine-cleaning class, as well as rules and regulations class, Sybil heads out to the gym floor to get moving.

Sybil lifts as few arm weights, stretches her body and takes a break. She immediately eyes a tall, built gentleman across from her, with towel to his forehead, and a grimace on his face. He resembles Thanos, minus the body armor and the funky chin.

“Hey there! I’m Sybil. I just joined. Could I towel you off?” Sybil asks him.

The man looks over to Sybil and looks away.

“I like dog food. I got the hookup should you every want some.” Sybil says.

The man’s eyes immediately dart over to Sybil.

“You got to be kidding,” the guy says.

“For real? You into it too?” Sybil asks excitedly, as she rubs her hands together. “I got the hookup.”

“Let’s blow this joint and get outta here” the man says, as he throws down his towel. The both pack up their gym bags and head out together without even bothering to shower.

Sybil gets into the guy’s imbecile machine, an overly lifted white truck, covered in vulgar decals and fitted with extra-large wheels. As the pair drives by a local bar, where a band is playing, the guy blasts his obnoxious metal music extra loudly to drown out the band so people cannot hear them. Sybil is impressed.

The two pull into the driveway at Sybil’s McMansion. They walk in.

“So I hear you like dog food?” the guy asks. 

“Yeah, I have Doggonit Dog Chow, I have several bags. I also have lots of treats. It’s all I eat!” Sybil exclaims.

A immediate look of despair comes over the guy as he puts his hand over his face. “You don’t have any H?”

“What’s that?” asks Sybil.

“Nothing at all?” the guy asks.

“I have plenty of dog kibble, treats, all the good stuff.”

“ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!” the man screams as he stomps out the door, rushes into his imbecile machine and peels out of Sybil’s driveway never to be seen.

“What the heck happened?” Sybil says to herself as she wonders how she is going to get her car back from the gym.