and CRASS, where Sybil works. 😀
and CRASS, where Sybil works. 😀
Kankakee, Illinois’ worst Elvis impersonator, Wally Green’s drugstore clerk and evil narcissistic abuser Robbie Hurlbutt has a huge crush on Midnight Supremes lead singer Gothic Diana Ross. After all, she is an impersonator also, and he wants to make a huge impression on her. She has a gig coming up soon and he is scheming to find a way to connive his boss, store owner Wally Green into letting him hang up her show poster at work to promote her music as he thinks it will somehow make her like him.
”Hey Robbie, have a look at these paper towels I invented just for my store: Half the size, twice the cost. All the frustration when you go to rip off a sheet, thanks to me!” boasts a balding, squat, rotund Wally Green as he tips his fishing cap.
“I know, boss, let’s put them on a groovy display table near the front of the store so the suckers — I mean customers — will think they are getting them on sale.”
“Great idea! I am glad I thought of it!” Wally exclaims with glee, throwing his stubby arms into the air.
“Well…now that I, boss, thought of such a splendid idea, I have a favor to ask. This band is really a gas and I want to hang up their poster for their upcoming show at the store,” Robbie says to his superior with bedroom eyes, dreaming of Miss Gothic Diana Ross, the only Boss he could ever want.
“Naw. Get back to work. I need you to make production metrics this time. Start selling people some pills they really do not need.”
Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Lead Debt Collector Sybil Kibble comes into Wally Green’s Drugstore to buy an iced coffee and a bag of dog biscuits for lunch as she forgot hers at home.
“Ehh. Out of order again. Must be that half ply toilet paper,” Sybil thinks out loud.
“Your washroom is on the blink?” Robbie asks, aghast.
“Yeah and I am in a hurry!” Sybil shouts as she makes her way over toward the men’s room.
“Do not go in there!” Robbie commands Sybil.
Sybil walks by Gothic Diana Ross in the men’s room, who is looking in the mirror, applying her jet-black eyeliner. She pinches a huge loaf in the stall next to Wally Green, who is busy whizzing away in the urinal. Sybil flushes but does not clean up the mess on the seat, flinging the door wide open with her arm. She makes a beeline for the sink and spots Diana sarcastically chortling away at the Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes poster on washroom wall.
A befuddled Robbie struts into the men’s room.
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME IN HERE!” Robbie shouts at the women. “THIS IS THE MEN’S ROOM.”
“Get back to work, Robbie, the ladies’ room is closed. Take down this poster while you are at it and apologize to our customers.” Wally Green tells his employee Robbie.
“I am sorry IF I offended you.” Robbie smirks.
“Get lost!” Diana and Sybil chant in unison as they leave the bathroom.
Sybil buys her lunch and heads back to work. Wally sells lots of paper towels and Robbie is put on temporary janitorial duty until he improves his customer service skills. But don’t lock him in the bathroom. He thinks he is Elvis.
Narcissistic Damien Hurlbutt desperately wants to impress his new girlfriend, Rachel Shelley, into coming back to visit him in Bourbonnais, Illinois from Detroit. However, he is as broke as a joke from his toy hoarding.
He comes up with a plan. Damien dials up his brother Robbie and asks if he can steal some identities. He offers some of his duplicate record albums as payment.
“I can part with my poorer copies of ‘Broken’ by The Favorites, my extra Walter Egans and all my Jewel records. I can throw in some Katy Scarys if you want, too…” Damien explains to Robbie, a Kankakee Elvis impersonator and pharmacy clerk.
Robbie jumps at the opportunity to add to his own hoard.
Robbie gets busy calling local con man Pat Splatt and the two devise a way to break into local sweetheart, single lady Kitty Bortolotti’s computer to steal her identity. Feeling dejected from having been rejected by Kitty after Pat had made a pass at her, Pat found her a perfect target for moronic revenge via financial abuse.
Robbie successfully steals Kitty’s credit card information and buys 18 bottles of dehydrated water and six tubs full of fat-free oil from Wally Green’s online mall. Damien thought these new inventions would impress Rachel in her fruitless efforts to lose weight, and who else to mansplain but Bourbonnais neckbeard Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt? “Throw in some cubic zirconia rings. She’ll never know they’re fake,” a bulbous Damien commands his brother Robbie.
“You got it.” Robbie smirks, a crooked grin fills half his face, almost touching one of his blue-black mutton chops.
Damien tips his black fedora, the one with which he hatfished Rachel. After all, how would the public — whom he works so hard to impress — know his “medium” bald spot takes up his entire head? He enters the restroom and sits on the potty.
“What kids?” A quizzical Robbie asks Damien.
“Oh kids. Ohhh kids!”
A loud splash is heard from the washroom.
“Pheeeew!” Damien cries and waves his hand by his bum.
He emerges and sprinkles his newly washed hands all over Robbie and roommate Andy’s living-room carpet, using it as a bathmat, and at Robbie as well.
“I just left a huge stinker in your toity. Would you like to see it?” a proud Damien boasts.
“Just leave the door open and don’t close it if I am in there.” Robbie says.
“You’re not Elvis, just an impersonator.”
Two days later, the stolen goods arrive at Damien’s Bourbonnais apartment. “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Damien exclaims as his next-door neighbor gives him the stinkeye.
Damien wraps the stolen, useless crap into prank boxes, boxes inside larger, nested boxes, and oddly shaped packaging, taping each package with hard-to-open packing tape to extend his desired cliffhanging effect on Rachel Shelley.
“I can’t wait to videotape Rachel, the expression on her face when she opens all those gifts from ME!” Damien says to himself, wearing a huge grin.
Damien finishes up his hours of taping, wrapping and more taping. He tests out his camcorder and memory card. He is all set for his catch.
Rachel walks in the next day, much later than Damien anticipates. Damien tips his fedora. “Hello, M’lady, Madame.”
“Good to see you, do I get a hug?”
The two embrace.
“Turn around and close your eyes. I am going to take your hand, honey puddin”.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“But I say it because I love you. You’re so little and dainty.”
“Grrrr.” Rachel emits.
“Now take my hand. I have a little surprise for my honey puddin.”
Damien begins secretly rolling tape and then takes Rachel’s hand, leading her into his cluttered kitchen.
“Now open your eyes, M’lady.”
Rcahel opens her eyes, displaying her typical blank expression.
“I bought all these gifts for YOU!”
Rachel cracks half a grin.
“Now I want you to open this one first.”
Rachel opens the huge, nested box.
“Dehydrated water? Ohhh-kayyyy…”
“Yeah. I thought you might like that. Now open this one.”
Damien shoves another large box over to Rachel. She opens box after box, finally revealing its contents.
“Fat free oil?”
“Yeah. You could use it to cook. After all, you need to lose wieght and I want to help!”
Rachel begins to scowl.
“Oh, now you will really love this. Women love small boxes.”
Damien hands Rachel another box, which she also struggles to open.
“Why do you use so much tape? Packing tape too? Did you run out of regular tape?”
“Oh this is regular tape.” Damien snickers. Rachel finally gets the package open. “I got you a sparkly!” Damien exclaims. “Not only one but 17 of them!”
Rachel tips the box on its side and reads the label. “Cubic…zirconia.”
Damien’s face turns cherry red.
Music is heard from the other room.
“That’s my phone.”
Rachel gathers the boxes and walks away. Damien checks the tape. Rachel walks back in and Damien jumps, startled, and hides what he was doing.
“Oh hey, I gotta go. Thanks for the stuff.”
“Yeah honey puddin. Where you going?”
“Out.” Rachel declares and heads out with the stuff Damien gave her.
Damien is all alone. Sirens are now wailing from the distance, getting louder as the seconds pass. Damien is shaking but trying not to show it. A knock is heard at his door. It is just what he fears.
Rachel arrives at her lover Leon Peeone’s apartment.
“Hey Leon, I got some crap to sell so we can get some more hard stuff.” The two laugh but not for long. Neither one of them is too bright.
Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kantrina Kibble went out to the grocery store looking for some doggy chow to eat on her lunch break:
Sybil sent me here. This is Jen. You might know me, the creator of the Moroniverse? Some people have been asking me why I draw these fools the way I do.
I am starting a new series of blog entries explaining the madness behind my methods.
One reader asked me why some morons are drawn using ragged lines, while other characters are drawn with smooth lines and curves, some even in the same panel.
Pat Splatt, on the left, you see, is a huge sociopath and collapsed narcissist.
Kitty Bortolotti, on the right, is a huge sweetheart, full of compassion and empathy.
Scenes like the one below, make generous use of noir lighting to represent the dark characters:
I dunno, would YOU hang around Damien?
Thank you to my readers for submitting their questions, and for continuing to read.
Next time I plan to tell some of my ideas behind the characters.
Be sure to like the We Are CRASS page on Facebook and tell your friends about the good clean fun o’er here at MoronicArts.
Lonely loser and wacky inventor Wally Green hits on all kinds of ladies. Kitty Bortolotti is within his line of vision. What do you think will happen next?
Maybe Damien Hurlbutt will offer someone a free ticket if she watches it with him…but who would do that?
Doris and Keona Krabalsky need to try a new marketing tactic to sell their pyramid schemes.
They call up local yokel Robbie Hurlbutt, known for his mediocre-at-best Elvis impersonation act.
“Sorry babe, I am booked solid this month. I am making love to the audience every night this month.”
“Get lost, Robert.” Doris disconnects her phone.
“Maybe we can contact Smokey Ashe to teach us how to make smoke signals with her cigarette collection. I am certain she needs the dough now that she has been fired from CRASS for smoking at work.”
“Too stinky, Leona. I give a hoot and don’t wanna pollute. Oh, wait she’s dead!”
The pair share giggles.
Doris spies a small drone in the clearance aisle at a shop the strip mall on the main drag in Bourbannais. “Ah-ha! Perfect.”
Doris heads home to her apartment, where Leona is in the kitchen washing dishes.
“What dumb, new-fangled thing bring you now, sis?”
“Hey look, Leona! I bought this drone.”
“Have you seen one of these before?”
Leona gives Doris the side-eye, hands on her hips.
“I came up with a great marketing idea for our business opportunities. We can attack Kankakee County with flyers, drone style! All we have to do is take these flyers we got from our upline leaders, attach them to the drones, fly them over town and let them loose! These opportunities will sell themselves!”
“Meet me at the bridge, Doris and we will launch our new venture!” Leona jumps up and exclaims.
Doris leaves her Kankakee apartment to meet her sister Leona at her home, the I-57 bridge underpass near Exit 315.
“I think this idea will really fly!” Doris tells Leona, drone in hand. Leona attaches the PryMerica brochures to the bottom of the drone. Off it goes.
Doris flies the drone and drops PryMerica business opportunities all over Kankakee County. Leona and Doris share memories of letting balloons go as kids in school, wondering where they went.
“Think of all the mail, Leona, all the money. All the people we can serve I mean sell to.”
“Serve ourselves,” Leona quips. They share a laugh, and part ways.
Doris comes home to an answering machine full of messages. Could this be the moneymaker she has been hoping for?
“Oh dear, it is clouding up. I need to close the windows.”
Doris closes all her windows and checks her answering machine, landline first.
“Beep. Um hi. I need you to come pick up this mess you left on my lawn. I found a pile of brochures with your number on it. Please come right away. Thanks.”
“Not a chance.” Doris giggles and pushes “next.”
“Beeep. Yeah, thanks for the kindling. You dropped it straight on my lawn. I am calling to say thanks…your number is printed right on it! I have enough for the end of the year to put in my fireplace. Thanks again, Doris!”
Doris growls and hits “next”.
“Hi. This is Mack. What are you wearing?”
Doris smashes the “next” button.
After clearing all her messages, Doris’ phone will not stop ringing. Not a single person shows an interest in buying her business opportunities to sell to friends. Doris pulls the plug on her phone.
Thankfully, she did not give out her mobile number…or did she? Oops.
A fart that comes out of your butt without you even trying. Also known as the Automated Fart.
A fart that diguises itself as something else. It could sound like anything from a creaky floor, to a coffeemaker, from the dishwasher, to the loud bass eminating from the neighbour’s car stereo. Usually heard from a distance.
You’re standing in a store minding your own business, when suddenly, the person next you rips one. The farter, usually male, often goes by the name “Dad”, “Honey” or “Grandpa.”
Sports Fart: When you’re running around, not thinking about the beans you had for lunch, and a loud ripping sound is heard as you kick, pass, jump or bend over.
Lucky Fart: One that attempts to ruin the would-be farter’s social situation, but forfeits at the last second.
For example: you’re dancing with the object of your desire when you suddenly you feel a bubble form in your colon. You fear the worst as your dancing partner begins to move closer and gyrate their hips, but the fart subsides and finds its way back into your system.
Butt Trumpet/Trumpet Butt Fart: This sour note is pretty self explanatory.
Interactive fart: A fart that causes a chain reaction.
For example: Someone rips one, which causes the dog to bark, which wakes up your mother, which causes an argument, which…
Natural Fart: The kind of fart you hear at a nudist camp. What makes this one unique is the lack of clothing to buffer the sound.
Virtual Fart: Something that sounds like a fart, but isn’t. For example: you squeeze some ketchup, and someone blames you for letting one, even though you swear up and down that it never happened.
Helpful Fart: Just as the name implies.
For example: A fart that scratches an itch in your butt, or one that warms your backside on a cold Winter’s day.
Brought to you by the letters OOOPS:
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.
Neckbeard Damien continues to leave her messages from his flip phone. He thinks he is going to win because he is such a “nice guy”.