Toxic College-y

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Scary Barry Reynolds gets fired from his job as a road-test proctor for the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles, and starts his own college called “Dr. Mathew B. Johnson School of Intrepid Arts” in Albion, Indiana, teaching martial arts and telekinesis, a school he named after his favorite academic leader and best friend. 

Gothic Diana Ross gives her TV the side-eye

“Become as powerful as the Dragonball Y characters you see on TV! Develop your real life martial-arts skills, and when you get to your senior year, you’ll become a PSI-ball master!” 

“Not this ad again…” Gothic Diana Ross says across the Indiana border in Manteno, Illinois at the slate Victorian home where she and her bandmates reside. “Who wants to go to Indiana anyway?”

“Indiana wants us, but we can’t go back there.” Gothic Flo retorts and The Midnight Supremes all giggle.

Classes begin at the School of Intrepid Arts in Albion. Students practice basic self-defense, mixed martial arts and fencing.

“A new life awaits you at the School of Intrepid Arts” a flashing, talking blimp advertises as it flies over Northern Indiana and Illinois, spending a rather long time over Chicago, until someone begins to fire at it.

“Pop! Pop!” is heard as the floating advertisement-machine is gunned down somewhere on the Southside. 

A scholar gets harassed in his dorm, racial remarks litter his marker board. One moron, Pat Splatt, writes “KKK” on an empty pizza box and drops it outside his dorm room.

Protests are held by multiple school groups which make the local news.

Barry and Terry Reynolds respond to the media from the comfort of their own home.

“I will answer that later. Come back.” President Reynolds tells the news, and does not return their calls.

The scholar tries to learn to make “PSI Balls” on the internet and learns that it is fake. Meanwhile President Reynolds uses school money to pay for pet construction projects so he can hire his wife Terry’s company to do all the work.

Barry and Terry make the classes so hard, it is impossible to pass. Barry and Terry love seeing the disappointed faces of aspiring martial-arts students receive their report cards littered with Fs. 

President Barry Reynolds sends out a memo to his wife Terry using negative humor, snarking she should bulldoze “trash and idiots who live on minimum wage.” Barry accidentally copies the entire college on the email.

Oopsie!

Students start creating memes and Fakebook groups. President Barry reports them to Fakebook owner Emperor Zucc who shuts them all down. 

Students take to the news to expose the corruption.

The scholar is interviewed, and talks about his brother — also a student — who died when trying to defend a bully using “PSI Balls.”

“If President Reynolds wants to create chaos and censor those who rise up against his regime, then maybe he should move to North Korea. I bet he would feel right at home.”

Barry and Terry visit Bern Cacca bathing in the bog near Manteno, Illinois, for public-relations advice hoping to clean up their image, since Bern is so good at maintaining her squeaky clean image while doing dirty those closest to her. Oh, and she burns poopies.

Bern Cacca bathes in the bog

“Bern Cacca? We have an important message. We need your help.”

Bog Witch Bern keeps on swimming.

“Bern? We have something to tell you.”

Bern continues to ignore the looming Terry and Barry.

“Bern? We want to know how you keep your image so clean while you do others dirty.”

“Can’t you see I am taking a bath?” an angered Bern yells back, hoping to be left alone.

“Oh you are so…RUDE!” Terry snarks at Bern. 

“I am busy. Go away.”

“God hates ugly people! I am calling the manager!” Terry says out of desperation and fear.

“I am the manager.” Bern replies as she shoos away Terry and Barry. 

“I wish my hearing aids were broken.” Peppi Cacca says to his wife Bern and the Reynolds couple leaves.

The Indiana Attorney General investigates and shuts the school down, and the story makes television headlines.

“Oh good, we no longer have to see those annoying ads.” Gothic Flo says to Gothic Diana and then turns off her TV.

Moronic Racing is a Drag

“Would you like to hear the good news about our religion?” asks the elderly gentleman, sporting a “JC is the Man” tee shirt.

“No, would you like to hear the good news about the Flying Spaghetti Monster?” quips Diana.

“If you don’t join our religion, you will not go to paradise when you die.”

“I’ve died and come back three times and I am in the Rush University Journal of Medicine. When people talk about tunnels and light, I know they’re lying.”

Diana slams the door and gets ready to rehearse with Gothic Mary and Gothic Flo.

A knock is heard at the door.

“Go jump into Manteno Lake” yells Diana.

The knocking persists until the person holds down the doorbell.

Furious, Miss Ross heads out to chase her unwanted visitor.

Miss Ross opens the door.

“Oh hi Deeanna.”

“Di.”

“Is that a threat? Because I can call police–“

“No, you dimwit, that’s my name. Bernadette, you have been calling me by the wrong name since we were in third grade together.” Diana tells her next-door neighbor, communal narcissist and portapotty proprietor Bernadette Moran Cacca.

“Oh. I just wanted to tell you I have been doing these gigs to support the Manteno Optimal Club. I sing showtunes and play accordion. I am collecting donations if you want to chip in, since I know you love music, and it’s going to great cause because I love the community so much…” Bernadette rambles, not realizing Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes are slow clapping to insult Bernadette’s lame attempt at asking for money.

“Oh I am so glad you want to help! How much are you going to give?”

“A blow to the head if you don’t exit.”

Diana closes the door.

Bernadette Cacca walks home and tests the crank on her window-mounted Turd Machine. “Pep, did you forget to oil the turd machine hanging in the living-room window?”

“No, Bern, it’s out of turds.”

“Oh. Where did they go?”

“Little lady, you burned them last night in the fireplace. Don’t you remember?”

“No, I had too much moonshine.”

Diana outside the Cacca homestead

Gothic Diana Ross looks out the arched windows of her home to see if the coast is clear, hoping to dodge any Caccas, and heads outside to board the bus.

Since her turd machine collections are out of turds, Bern devises another way to annoy Diana.

As Diana is just standing there waiting for a bus, Bern starts spamming her with unsolicited, incorrect information.

“Deeanna. This bus is not coming for an hour.”

Diana ignores Bern, enjoying her New Beat mix through her headset.

“Deeanna, it’s raining out. Where’s your umbrella?”

“Do you need to borrow one?” Diana sarcastically replies.

“See, Dee — I can drive you to where you’re going. I love to drive because I am a good person who helps the community.”

Diana continues to enjoy her music.

As Diana sees the bus approach, she takes off her headset so she can communicate with the driver, waving so they can see her.

“You know, Diana, you don’t have to flag the bus down. It will show up anyway,” Bern advertises her unsolicited advice.

Diana boards the bus, pays the fare and sits down in the back. Bern sits a few seats away, since the one next to Diana is already occupied by another passenger.

Diana exits the bus in front of a building near the garage where she dropped off her black 1988 Chrysler Conquest to get repaired, stopping to pause and gather her thoughts.

“That business is closed. Can’t you read the sign?” Bern nags Diana.

Bern Cacca’s turd-eating grin

“Don’t you have a pool to crap in?” the 5’10” Diana says, turns away and makes big strides using her long, slender legs toward the repair shop.

The rotund, 5’4″ Bern gives up as she has run out of ideas, for now.

“What can I do ya fer?” asks the mechanic behind the counter.

“I am her to pick up my ’88 Chrysler Conquest.”

“She’s not done yet. Give ‘er a couple more hours.”

Diana falls asleep in the chair while listening to music on her phone, the playlist changed to heavy metal and experimental noise.

She restfully dreams, drifting off to outer space, not a soul around to ask nosey questions. The beautiful goth queen and the boss of herself snores every so slightly, lightly. As Gothic Diana enjoys her peaceful rest away from her batty neighbors, she is starkly awakened.

“Diana? Diana?”

“Yeah…” a sleepy Miss Ross replies.

“Your car is good as new. She’s all fixed up. You owe us $1991.”

Diana reluctantly swipes her card, and drives onto the highway. It is getting dark on this cold Illinois night.

“Glad to have her back,” Gothic Diana thinks out loud.

Bernadette Cacca pulls up beside Diana in the lane to the left.

“But not her…” Diana also thinks out loud.

“Come on Diana, I’ll race you.”

“Get lost!” Diana exclaims, wishing the pest that is Bernadette Cacca would leave her be.

“Chicken! Bok-bok-bok-bok” the narcissistic Bern eggs on the unwavering Diana.

“Beep! Beep!”

The angered motorist behind Diana driving the white 1980s Toyota is in a hurry. Diana moves ahead.

“Yeahhhh!” an excited Bernadette exclaims as she burns rubber.

Diana and Bern race up and down the highway. Diana drifts as she tries to make her way very far from the trailing Bernadette. All she wants to do is go home.

The two arrive at their Manteno block, Diana first, Bern second.

Parked in Bern Cacca’s driveway is the white 1980s Toyota AE86.

A young man exits the Toyota and asks the approaching drivers.

“Did someone order tofu?”

Bernadette grabs her food and runs upstairs to eat because she cannot wait to poop again. She loves to poop.

An exhausted Diana enters her Gothic Victorian home and hits the silky black pillow atop her wrought-iron bed, falling asleep as soon as she lays down.

Moron Kombat

Communal narcissist and poopyburner Bern Cacca decides to shed her squeaky-clean facade a bit and try posing for OnlyFarts.

Bored with the lack of attention and revenue from her side-hustle, Bern heads out to the Bourbonnais Buckstars café to grab a cuppa mud. Ennui took over; Bern sat around hoping customers would recognize the wannabe celebrity that is THE Bernadette Cacca, charity singer and Port-O-Dump Proprietor. Nope.

In walks Gothic Diana Ross, local singer and Bern’s next-door-neighbour.

“You walked by Peppi and I and did not even say hi?”

Ennui took over Bern, as Diana heads toward the café bar to place her order, so she starts making up crap to try and smear her, hoping customers might just overhear her.

“Meet me outside” Bern whispers to Diana as she opens the coffeehouse door to exit.

Not wanting to cause a scene, Diana rightfully ignores Bern egging her on.

Bern follows Diana outside and starts hurling insults about her singing.

“You sing like a dying cow!” Bern screams to Diana as she lunges toward her.

Moron Kombat begins. Gothic Diana Ross knocks out Bern Cacca with one blow to her turd-eating piehole and walks to her car, not a drop of coffee spilled, unlike the bulbous Bernadette Cacca whose spilled hers all over the pavement.

Bern in Hell

A few years from now, Communal narcissist and poopyburner Bern Cacca, who wanted to be everybody’s friend, but only to use them finds herself forced out of Manteno and into the pits of Hell.

“Satan, why am I here?”

Because you’re evil, Bern.”

“But I did all those favors! I played accordion for the Optimal Club! I gave people rides! I–“

“Did you do those things to help, or to make yourself look good?”

“Uhhh…”

“And how many times did you admit you did something wrong. Count them. I will wait. So will my visiting intern Gothic Diana Ross. She will take you to your cell. Do you prefer jagged rocks or bubbling excrement?”

Robbie’s Singing the Bathroom Blues

Kankakee, Illinois’ number one Elvis impersonator, Wally Green’s drugstore clerk and 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.

“The 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.

Bern Cacca Is Running in the Drugstore

Manteno narcissist of the communal kind, and poopyburner extraordinaire, spies a wild Gothic Diana Ross at the local Wally Green’s and runs after her.

“Oh my gawd! I am so happy to see–“

“Go away. I don’t like you.”

Not willing to respect boundaries, nor caring for personal safety, Bern chases Diana into a forest.

The girl was never there.

Bern made her way back into the bog, from where she came.

A Very Moronic Concert

“Ma, would you like a dog food wrap?”

“No thanks, Sybil. I’ll take a raincheck.”

“I wrapped them up in toilet paper, Mother!”

JK shakes her silvery coiffe.

“Are there squirrels along the boardwalk?” JK asks her daughter, who is busy munching away at her doggy bag.

“Mmmnnnpf” a hungry, occupied Sybil replies in the negative.

“Speaking of squirrels, where are our tickets to the squirrel petting zoo?” JK inquires.

Sybil digs around her black-and-white striped purse, and pulls out the envelope Robbie gave her.

“Coupons? I thought they were comping us. These only give us a dollar off! The admission is $20 a pop! And where are our hotel keys? They said they were getting that, too!”

“Ummmm…” JK’s jaw just hangs.

“I have a plan.”

“Are we still going to the show?”

“Aw yeah, we are going early, in fact.”

6:00 PM rolls around and Sybil has already gotten to the bar with her mom, JK. The two were a bit delayed by their detour to the novelty store.

“Where is the ladies’ room?”

The bartender points in the general direction.

Sybil and JK each take a stall and begin blowing up the inflatable women. Sybil applies makeup, a blonde wig and readers to hers and JK applies a short, gray wig and round glasses to her doll. They walk out the restroom and place their dolls in two seats toward the back of the bar.

Sybil and JK leave the bar, giggling as they exit. They head to a casino where they spend the night.

The Moronic Half-Assets (MHA) Vaudeville act begins. Konrad Teirant tells his awful puns, then his wife, Madeline Topolla-Teirant, the colorful clown, juggles and attempts to balance on a large ball. Robbie Hurlbutt, mediocre Elvis impersonator, sings and dances like the fool he is.

PJ Hurlbutt cheers on her son Robbie, who she thinks is the greatest singer, meanwhile Pat Splatt sits there in his seat texting.

The show ends and Robbie takes a head count.

“We’d like to thank our fans Pat, my Mom PJ, and our buddies Sybil and JK!”

“Encore! Encore! Encore!” the lone fan, PJ, shouts.

“Did you say encore? We aim to please. Robbie is going to serenade a special fan who came all the way from Kankakee, Illinois!” Konrad announces.

Robbie comes down from the stage, toward the back of the bar and begins to sing “Burnin’ Love”.

Robbie is in shock that the “person” to whom he is singing does not react, nor move at all. “She is not a sincere fan.” Robbie says into the microphone after his number.

“Robbie, you moron. That’s a blow-up doll!” Madeline shouts.

Robbie jumps back in sheer embarassment.

“Elvis has now left the building.” Konrad announces.

The Moronic Half-Assets pack up, ready to leave. “That was a bust. I got really flustered up there.” Robbie sighs.

“We did not return much on our investment, did we?” Konrad gripes.

“Time to pack up and leave. If we drive home in our clown car, and make it home without stopping, maybe we can make up for our losses. Time to go!”

Robbie is in the Men’s washroom, wizzing away.

“Robbie, why do you leave the door open? I tell you about that time and time again!” Madeline screams.

A loud slam is heard.

“Rrrrrrrrgh!”

“Robbie, you are not Elvis, and you are not going to die in there.”

The MHA members pack up their stuff, and Robbie follows them into his clown car.

“I wonder what act is up next?” Robbie asks.

“I guess we’ll never know. Step on it Robbie!”

An announcement is barely heard from the purple clownmobile as Robbie pulls away, and rolls up his window, Kankakee-bound:

“Next up, from Manteno, Illinois: Gothic Diana and the Midnight Supremes!”

“Rrrrrrgh—I love her! My dreamy—“

“Shut up and drive, childish little boy,” Madeline commands as the rain pours down and the moon shines down on the Moronic Half Assets.

Moronic Half-Assets Sounds the Alarm

Kon Teirant

Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Accounting Chief Konrad “Kon” Teirant is having trouble balancing the assets against the liabilities, even after having cooked the books to a carbonized mess.

Mack E. Avelli

Chief Executive Officer Mack. E. Avelli calls in Konrad to hold a meeting.

“Kon, if we cannot make ourselves look good to our investors, we are going to fail as a company. I don’t need you to be honest about it, I need you to make us some more money. Just get it done.”

“I’ll think up something. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Good,” the fifty-something Mack says to Konrad and starts texting his 22-year-old wife Judithann, who ignores his message because she is too busy flirting with daemons.

It is midnight here in Kankakee.  

The fire alarm sounds for the third time this week at the Kankakee’s Best Low-Budget Apartments, complete with strobe lights, sirens and a man’s voice repeating the same message over and over again.

As the residents of this sorry apartment building wake up and use the washroom, Moronic Half-Assets (MHA) takes the elevator up to each floor in the tower. 

“It is midnight and you know what time that is! Come on, guys, let’s all dance! Didn’t you see that four-page flyer we left on all of your doors telling you to exercise more? We knocked on your doors because we had nothing better to do! Resident deejay Konrad is on the ones and twos!” exclaims property manager, half-wit and sociopath Madeline Topolla-Teirant.

DJ Konrad Teirant picks some records out of his crate, and begins spinning and scratching, rapping over the music.

Resident Tyrell Fowler — out in the hall wondering what the racket is about — explains to Konrad “dude, you cannot scratch 1950s love songs,” and walks back into his unit.

“Let’s get out the glowsticks everybody!” Madeline says as she pulls them from the fire-hose compartment on the wall.

Robbie sings Elvis tunes as he dances away, doing moronic martial arts moves on the in-between.

Robbie Hulrbutt

The MHA troupe packs up their party-gear and heads upstairs to the next floor in the tower.

When the crew are all done waking up their residents, they head downstairs to the office and turn off the alarms. Finally those poor residents can get some sleep.

“Here is your check, Kon. We will write it off as a business expense here at the complex.”

“Great, I will bring it to CRASS tomorrow,” Kon tells his wife Madeline and they head home in Robbie’s clown car. Elvis has left the building.

“Oh good, I got it,” a resident says sitting in her bed, as she reviews the video she recorded on her phone.

Konrad Teirant heads into the CRASS office, strutting along the halls with a turd-eating-grin across his face as he makes his way over to the office of his supervisor, Mack E. Avelli.

“Kon! You have a great smile! You should smile more often.”

Kon hands Mack the knife…errrr…check.

“Oh good! Now you can keep your job!” Mack tells his subordinate Konrad.

Kon says nothing and heads back into his office to cook more books.

Meanwhile, the CRASS phones light up like a Christmas tree. However the increased call volume is not from debtors calling back the CRASS collectors.

“I saw that video on the news, your accounting dude and his buddies woke some poor folks up in the middle of the night hosting some hokey rave party? What were you thinking?” 

Beep.

“Hey, this Trisha Cobb, better known as Gothic Diana Ross. You know, from The Midnight Supremes? We saw what you did when we watched the news. That’s not cool.”

Beep.

“Hello, this message is for Mr. Avelli. I am Geoff, an auditor with the firm Deltoid & Tush. We were asked to contact you about your accounting records. We are stopping by in an hour.”

“Kon, how do we cook the books now? Ya better cook them good this time,” Mack shouts to an empty room. Since he was up half the night, Kon took the rest of the day off to go home and now he is fast asleep, sawing a forest. 

MoronicArts Bores a Scammer with Gothic Diana Ross, Portapotties and Siberia

“Mary” from Delhi, India called from a spoofed New York number to ask nosey medical questions.

MoronicArts wasted this scammer’s time boring her about Gothic Diana Ross, Peppi’s Portopotties and Norilsk, Russia so she cannot use that time to try and rip off other people.

Get a real job, “Mary.”