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!

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. 

Sybil and the Lawnmower

While on her break from a particularly demanding — but successful — day at Credit Recovery Associates, LLC (CRASS), Lead Collections Representative Sybil Kibble takes a break from her usual dog food lunch to check out the online news.

Sybil logs off the autodialer, sets down her headset, and logs into the daily Kankakee newspaper’s web site. A new article catches Sybil’s eye immediately:

“Step up your lawn mowing game with a new, AutonaMower by SteppinUp Technologies! Make your neighbors jealous by being the first person on the block to own the new AutonaMower! Feel the power of its remote control technology while you set it to mow your lawn, walk away, and forget it! Never has been mowing your lawn been so easy! Now, the Joneses can keep up with you!”

Sybil was hooked.

“Break time is over. Get back to work!” Tara Bull growled. I should not have to babysit you.

Sybil slithered back into her seat and logged into the autodialer.

As soon as Sybil made her last collection that day (and she made sure to double down on the debtor, raking in that commission), Sybil slammed down her headset and peeled out the CRASS parking lot. Off to the Buckethead’s Hardware in Bradley she went!

Sybil walks into Buckethead’s and looks around. “Welcome to Buckethead’s, where we save you money!” said Samantha, a bright eyed, bushy blonde wearing a green shirt.

“I like the sound of that!” squeals Sybil as they skip back to the lawn and garden department.

“Tony will be able to assist you” Samantha says and walks away.

“Hey Tony, I need a lawnmower that mows the lawn for you.”

“Ha, well we just got those in. They are pretty cool. We have this one operated by remote control. It hooks into your smartphone and even tells time. And then, for just 40.00 more, we have the deluxe model that has a built in radio! It even has a cupholder!”

“Hey Tony, they’re great.” Tony rolls his eyes slightly.

“However, I am not looking to spend a lot. Just gimme the cheapest model.”

“Oh-kay. We have in our economy section the AutonaMower. It mows the lawn for you. It’s our only gas model on the floor and it is on sale. $299.99”

“I’ll take it.” Sybil can barely contain her excitement. She checks out and heads home to Kankakee.

Sybil finishes up her bowl of dog food for dinner and cannot wait to unbox her new toy. She is so excited, she skips her Milk Bone for dessert.

Out to her oh-so-slightly overgrown, manicured lawn she heads. Sybil opens the box. “Instructions? Who needs these?” Sybil chucks the manual in the trash.

Now, how do I turn this thing on? Sybil starts pressing buttons. “Crap.”

“Hey Tony?” Sybil says on her cell phone, on speaker so all the neighbours can hear.

“My lawn mower is not working.”

“Did you try putting batteries in the remote?” Tony asks.

“Oh. Nevermind.” Sybil presses the end key on her phone.

Sybil puts the included two AA batteries into the remote and presses the start key. The remote is programmed and ready to go. However the lawnmower is not. It does not even turn on!

Sybil screams out a string of expletives.

Clouds roll in. As people say in the Midwest, if you do not like the weather, wait five minutes.

It begins to pour.

Sybil gets so infurated that she packs up the AutonaMower, grabs the instruction manual out of the garbage, stuffs it in the box and heads back to Bucketheads in Bradley.

Sybil struts in and straight to Lawn ‘N Garden. “Tony, you sold me a broken model. This thing is crap, your store is crap and you are crap.” She slams it on the floor.

“Did you put gas in it?” Tony asks.

“Ohhhh, grrrrreat.” Sybil says.

Tony laughs and rolls his eyes. It is all he can do after a long day of putting up with customers like Sybil.

Karma comes back to bite.

Song of the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLy2SaSQAtA

And now it is time for a little story about Sybil and friends. – Jen

—-

“Where have you been?” Sybil barked at Linda Stay as she hovered over her desk.

“I had trouble driving in this weather and barely made it in. We got a foot of snow overnight and it took me over an hour to drive 25 miles,” Linda nervously explained as she set her purse and keys down on her cubicle desk.

“Well, I don’t have four-wheel drive and I made it just fine” snipped Sybil as she berated the beleaguered Linda over her five minute tardiness. “I will mark this as a failure on your bi-weekly production report because attendance needs to be at 100%. You will not qualify for your hourly bonus this pay period. This is unacceptable.

Before Linda could react, Sybil snapped “get on the phones.”
At 11:00, everyone could not wait to get off the phones. Yes, it was a dreaded production meeting which mandated the entire corporation’s presence, regardless of position, an award ceremony which invoked memories and emotions of high school assemblies. However, the collectors would do anything to get off the phones, even for an hour.

“I will get straight to the point. We need to increase production,” said Mr. Mack E. Avelli, Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Compliance Officer. The crowd erupted in laughter when Tara Bull ripped one and crapped her pants.

“Did I do that?” asked an embarrassed Ms. Bull.

“We need to get more bullish!” said Mikey as the crowd continued to giggle.

“Silence!” Mr. Avelli shouted and the room went dead, as if you could cut the tension with a knife.

“Since nobody made production, the employee of the month award is going to go to the person who ranked highest on the quality metric. Without further ado, I present this award to Mrs. Linda Stay.”

The crowd cheered and clapped, that is everyone except for Sybil. She went back to her desk and helped herself to a bowl of dog food. Ahhhh, comfort food. She slowly swallowed down every bit, one bite at a time.

Sybil Sells Snake Oil on the Side?

Sybil will do anything to make a buck. Spotting an ad for an MLM company, she gives it a go. “If the girls at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) can sell essential oils, I can do it too, only better!” Sybil tells herself. “There is a sucker born every minute.”

Wanting to outdo the competition, Sybil creates her own oil to sell. “Essential Snake Oil” Sybil dubs her new concoction, and she labels it “made from real snakes.”
What Sybil does not tell plan to tell her potential customers, is that her product contains no snake content at all. It is made from 100% Canola oil.
“I cannot wait to rip people off! With all the money I make, I can buy lots of dog food for dinner! Yum!” Sybil plots in her head.
The following day, Sybil heads to the cheapest grocery store in Bourbannais to get canola oil. Customers looking for the best deal from nearby Bradley and Sybil’s hometown Kankakee look puzzled as a conniving Sybil fills her cart with gallons and gallons of canola.
As Sybil approaches the cashier with her cart, she can barely move, it is so heavy.
Sybil loads her stash onto the conveyor belt, and the clerk immediately gives Sybil the stinkeye. “You are sure buying a lot of oil there, girl! Are you frying up a bunch of fish?” The clerk giggles, unaware of the scheme Sybil is trying to cook up.

“Okay, ma’am, that will be $413.83.”
Sybil gets out her Diamond Shamrock credit card.
A few uncomfortable seconds pass, which seem like hours in Sybil’s mind.
“What is the matter?” gasps Sybil.
“Declined.”
Sybil’s heart sank.
“This cannot be. Run it again!” Sybil snips.
The clerk ran the card two more times.
“Declined.”
“Get me your manager!” Sybil screams.
“I am the store manager and owner.”
“Why was my card declined?” Sybil asks defensively.
“NSF – Insufficient Funds. Pretty bad for a bill collector like you. There was a time I was down and out and you called my house relentlessly, usually at dinner time. I could not afford to make my payments because you doubled the amount you would accept. Now you are broke. What did you need all that oil for any way? Are you you going to oil a snake or something?”
Sybil backs away with her head down and slowly heads out the door, and to her home alone, in Kankakee.