Tag: horror

Sonya-Daemon wants a change o’fart.

~ Jen ~ 5 Comments

Hell, Inc. CEO Satan temporarily banishes the daemon — once known as Midwestern slumlord Sonya Mare Smith Moran — to the land of the living, because she refused to stop stalking him in his basement C-Suite. He’s tired of hearing the shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture squawking and pecking at his door.

The former president of The Poopy Groupies pays her favorite singer a visit hoping to sing a stinky doo-doo-et, however Bernadette Cacca has once again fallen asleep on the toilet while pooping. Despite her best efforts to make a direct-to-dream connection, Sonya fails to reach her subject because she is too busy farting in her sleep.

Ms. Moran then curses her former tenants who had reported her for false lease violations (cha-cha-cha), using every word in the book, however they all tune her out because the community room television is volume has been turned up to accommodate the hard-of-hearing. Duh.

Making one last ditch to stir up trouble, Sonya-Daemon appears at Sybil Kibble’s house, however she is not home, so Sonya instead cuts off her mother’s internet connection, tapping her toes anticipating a reaction.

“The web has tossed its darned cookies again,” JoAnn Kissane Kibble thinks aloud. “CeeCee, did you throw some nuts into the router again?” JoAnn asks her squirrel-buddy.

After clearing the router of chocolate chips and nuts, she switches her phone from a wi-fi connection to a cellular one, and types on Fakebook: “I can’t get online because the internet is down.” Then she starts crushing candy with her phone.

After Sonya-Daemon has used up her most recent free hall pass to planet Earth, she gets sucked back into the underworld.

“Hey Boss, can you make me 10 feet tall? I wanna be 10 feet tall! I wanna be 10 feet tall, just like I was when I sold you my soul!” the nitwit screams as she repeatedly jumps up and down, like a toddler who lost a kickball.

“I’ve tried startling people, I’ve tried inhabiting their dreams, stealing their cookies, nothing. Nobody even notices me!”

“Have you tried just shutting up?” Satan replies…“Now back to the call center. We need 1000 surveys completed every hour…”

“Woo-hoo!” Sonya un-ironically shrieks as she runs to her new cubicle in Hell, Inc.

Behind the Moroniverse: I don’t eat cannibals, butt, my characters might

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Daily writing prompt
You get some great, amazingly fantastic news. What’s the first thing you do?
View all responses

I just may have been interviewed on a really cool comedy show called “The Aunty Sochelle Hour-Ish Show” about the Moroniverse and shapeshifting humanoid turkey vultures like Carla Moran. Maybe. Methinks a wee little birdy told me that the star of this show had performed with Second City and at The Comedy Store.

I may have just talked about them on the radio too…something something creature something…with a witch that’s really nice, who does not inhabit a bog (unlike Bernadette Cacca).

Don’t Get Hacked!

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Press your buttons and land on one of these great prizes. But don’t land on Lizzie Borden, she’ll put an axe to all your winnings!

Coming November 31st to The Manteno Optimal Club

Let us hear, hear from our donors!

“I donated a whole buttload of freshly mined craptocoins because I’m so generous like that! I even designed the game board! You can win a date with yours truly, also! Free admission, with just a two drink minimum. Tip generously or I’ll shove the gratuities jar in your face!”
— Bernadette M. Cacca, owner of Peppi’s Portapotties and (very) part-time actor.

“I donated this trip to Gary, Indiana to let everyone know that was where my dear boy Robbie was conceived!”
— PJ Hurlbutt, retiree

“Ma, shut the heck up!”
— Robbie Hurlbutt, clerk at Wally Green’s


A Bird Outta Hell

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Dead slumlord, malignant narc-a-doodle and shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Sonya Mare Smith Moran wants out of Hell. “Boss, can I enter the new externship you announced?”

“No, Sonya, we need you to keep filing these intake forms of the newly damned.”

“But boss?”

“Don’t talk back to me. Now get to work!”

Sonya files for another 666 hours until the bell rings. “I wanna ring the bell, I wanna ring the bell, why can’t I ring the bell?” Sonya screams as she throws a childish tantrum because she’s not getting her way, much to the annoyance of Hell’s CEO Satan.

“Sonya, you can do your externship on Earth for up to 12 hours, then you’re to be summoned back to Hell.

“Hot dawg!” Sonya exclaims.

Poof! Sonya immediately manifests her apparition in Kitty Bee’s bedroom.

“Why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t you ask me? Why did you report me to the feds?” Sonya-Daemon says to her former tenant to try and intimidate her. It’s 5:00 AM.

“Be gone in the name of the Light! With this your soul I smite!” Kitty grabs her can of D-Mon-Con and sprays beaucoup sage all over Sonya-Daemon.

“And may it be smote.”

“I’m glad I bought two of these. They were buy one, get one half-off at Wally Green’s. Now with extra sage, nice!”

“Wow, that’s a record!”

“Say what now boss?”

“You lasted two minutes and you’re back to Hell already. Now get to work! I need you to do 13 files a minute. Go now! Byyyeeeeeee.”

Satan disappears to mind another department of Hell.

Demanda Broccoli Gets Chopped!

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Bernadette Cacca, her husband Peppi and Demanda Broccoli all have one thing in common: Ennui.

“I saw this broad over here, had to go around her…Hi, I’m Demanda, I’m a friend of Mexico, he’s my brother,” she says to Bernadette, extending her hand to shake, holding a beer in the other. Bernadette pauses…then clarifies:

“You mean you’re a friend of Peppi’s.”

“I don’t have no friends. I tell a secret, three people know then I gotta kill both of them,” Kankakee debt-collector and humanoid vegetable Demanda Broccoli tells communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette Cacca, before walking over to her secret lover/sociopath Peppi Cacca, while they’re all sitting outside the Cacca’s Manteno homestead drinking and smoking skunkweed.

“Does Mexico have the Spanish flag?”

“No, they have their own flag, Demanda.”

“Who has the Spanish flag?”

“Umm…Spain”

“Where is Spain?” Demanda asks, guzzles even more beer from her plastic cup and then steals some moonshine from Peppi’s flask.

“Dude, you stank!” Demanda makes fun of her side piece.

“Time to burn some poopies, honey!” Not to be out-stinkified, Bernadette plays a sour note on her butt-trumpet, then lights a match.

BOOOM!

Demanda gets so blown away, her florets, stem chunks and crown make a mess all over the Cacca’s front lawn.

“Mmmmmm! Veggies for supper! I will sure done get regular now!” the bog witch cackles as she picks up the pieces of Demanda.

Missy’s Dismal DisMissyl

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Psychic vampyre rabbit Missy Hey works at Wally Green’s collecting blood in their lab after dark, before the sun comes up.

A customer runs up to the counter near the drawing station to complain.

“I pulled in at the stroke of midnight. It’s now 2:00 AM. Do you know where your patients are?”

“Heyyyy! Guess what? I have a bone to pick with you. There’s no way you’ve been waiting two hours, I saw you coming before you got here.”

“You may be psychic but you don‘t know everything!” the customer understandably reacts to Missy’s dismissal of his concerns.

“I’ve been working here 38 nights! I know every vampire in town. I’ve been in this job longer than any one else in Kankakee County! Don’t I know you from the refuge?”

“What refuge? Do you mean the homeless shelter? That was 8 years ago.”

“No the refuge.”

“The refugee center? I have been volunteering there but it’s been awhile since they needed me.”

Wally’s getting fed up with his lab tech. “I’m giving you a written warning, Missy, you’re not making production because you talk too much with the patients. We are losing a lot of money and that’s why I opened this business, to make as much as possible. Just get your work done or you’re fired!”

Feeling the heat from her write-up, Missy applies to work for “Scary” Barry Reynolds at his new School of Mixed Moronic Arts in a strip mall in Noble County Indiana so she can annoy people over there instead. “I love to talk” is listed in her unique set of qualifications along with a set of bowling scores on her “psychic vampyre” resume.

Feeling so impressed by her credentials, Barry unexpectedly hires her after asking only two interview questions from his office near the Northeast border of Indiana and Ohio.

Barry immediately puts Missy to work as his new secretary, working evening shifts.

”Hey! This is Missy from Barry’s School of Mixed Moronic Arts. Call me back to confirm your class or we will have to cancel.”

She makes calls to bother customers four times nightly to “confirm” their appointments, hound them about their bills and missed classes, even after they ask her to stop calling.

“Hey! I’m Missy calling to remind you that you’ve not been to Mixed Moronic Arts in 30 days. You need to keep coming in to keep your membership active. We are open from 7:30 PM till 3:00 AM every week from Monday through Friday. Thankies!”

Message deleted.


“You have a sexy voice, I bet you’re handsome!”

Click.

“Why is that same blue van here? It’s blocking my view. Its registration expired four years ago, it’s such an eyesore…” Missy bothers her boss.

“It’s from the guy that was squatting next door and hoarding. He had done got it removed two weeks ago. Don’t it smell better over yonder now?”

“I went bowling and got a 99 in two games!”

Missy hounds a new student who had just walked in the door. “Why are you wearing THAT? It looks terrible.”

“Missy, just ask them to change into their uniform and remove their shoes.” Barry commands.

She then walks over to the audio room near the dojo and attempts to mix CDs like records on a turntable.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m a deejay!”

Barry — and his students — have had enough of Missy’s antics.

Barry her puts her in the dojo for others spar, accidentally forgetting on purpose to tell them that Missy has no scythe-fencing skills, nor psychic-self-defense, just plenty of offense. He watches from his washroom while eating popcorn., practicing his defensive pooping.

“Flying straight into solid objects” – Bernadette Cacca

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment
Daily writing prompt
What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?
View all responses

“Come here, I need to show you something…” shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla Moran hisses from the atop her daughter Bernadette M. Cacca’s Manteno home where she is busy playing kazoo pop covers as she burns the port-a-potty waste in her washroom.

“I’m busy.” Bernadette begins to play harder/faster/bigger/stronger into her toy instrument.



 “Bernadette, I have some projects for you to do!”


“I’m all pooped out.”

The vulture takes flight and makes air donuts around the Caccas’ property.

“I’ll smack some sense into you if you don’t—”

“BOOOM!”

Carla’s extra-long, pointy beak slams into a tree, creating a large crack in its bark, tail-feathers shaking as the creepy craptor wiggles her entire body around trying to break free from her own self-imposed prison.

That poor tree.

They’re Heeere!

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment


But not for long with our new Polt-R-Gone!
Spray that spectre with our patented sage blend!

Got a witch in your bog? Hasten that hag’s hustle away from your hedgerow!


Get out the ghouls, daemons too with our maximum-strength, pure sage D-M’n-CON!

But wait, there’s more! Don’t wait another 28 weeks or another 28 days: Prepare yourself for the apocalypse now with our new Zombie Zapper! The undead will just walk right into it…eventually!

Buy one, get one half off (but never free) at your local Wally Green’s! (Not valid in Manteno, sorry!)

MoronicArts Classics: Welcome to Hell

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Kankakee pyramid schemer Doris Krabalsky and Bourbonnais communal narc-a-doodle Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt both arrive at Hell’s in-processing department at the same time.

“Sign the register” says Hell’s in-processing clerk and former Medical Office Assistant, Lucy Furr, who was notorious for bullying her roommate on their college trip to Italy. Meanwhile, Doris and Damien try to take over.

“Sonya’s Not Had Her Coffee, Yet.”

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Taking a break from her shift in the boiling lava and bubbling excrement pits, newly damned malignant narcadoodle Sonya Marie Smith Moran decides that it’s time to take a break. She takes the elevator down to the food court and walks into a Buckstars.

The shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture and narc-a-doodle walks up to place her order.

”Hi, I’d like an extra large, hot—“

“You can’t order here.”

“OK…where do I order?”

“You’ve been banned and not allowed to come back here.”

“Why? I’ve never even been here.”

“You’ve been banned,” the ogre robotically repeats, tag on her shirt reads “Jovaan.” “You’ve been banned and not allowed to come back here.”

This is not your typical Buckstars café.

“So, do you sell coffee here?”

“You’re being SO RUDE!” cries the customer ahead of her in line, a 40-something haggardly blonde banished to eternal darkness for breaking a man’s heart, harassing her employees and leaving a wave of destruction behind her everywhere she went.

“Who are YOU?”

“I’m someone who thinks you’re being rude. Very rude, lots of rude, you’re so rude rude rude rude–”

“I don’t even know ya lady!”

“I’m someone who thinks you’re being rude. Very rude, lots of rude, full of all the you’re so rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderuderuderude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rudity Rudy rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude–” cries the damned fool who thinks she runs the place, Jamie.

She’s not the first – nor the last – to try and take over Hell.

“Go away now! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE! BYE!“ cries the imbecile running the counter, waving her arm with an evil grin on her face.

“Okay, okay, okay, calm down you morons!”

Before Sonya could run to the coffee and donut shop across the hall, someone rather familiar pokes Sonya on the back.

“Mom?”

“Hey darlin’!”

“What brought YOU here?”

“Oh, just raising daughters just like you!”

The two humanoid raptors share an embrace.

“Grandpa’s holding a hot barbecue! We’re having a family reunion. Wanna come down?”

“Maybe. What are they grilling up?”

“Soylent Green.”

“I know. But, will they serve coffee?”

Mrs. Moran stands there shaking her head, feathers ruffled. Then she poops.

“Now get out of here, you rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderudeRobloxRubixCube rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderuderuderude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruminating rume rube rude ruderuderudeude ruderude rude rude rude rude rude rude ruderuderude rude ruderude rude rude ruderude rude rude rudity Rood Rudy Randy Rhodes rootin tootin’ rude rude rude rube!” goes the word-salad barfed up all over the coffee-shop floor, by their own barista.

The damned all think they’re hot…umm…stuff.