“Hey there my ultra-cool and spooky neighbor! You have a beautiful voice! I am making masks out of old bed sheets and passing them out. Deeanna, would you like one?” communal narcissist Bern Cacca annoys her neighbour Gothic Diana Ross as she minds her own business doing work outside her Manteno home.
“Get lost.”
“These masks are better than other ones because they’ve been quality tested by me, and washed with Lysol.”
“Yeah…no.”
“Then can you please give me a donation to support my mask project? I wash all the money.”
“Ya know that expression, put your money where your mouth is?”
“I know it very well. I am a pillar of excellence, playing accordion covers of pop tunes to raise money–”
“If ya don’t go now, I will put your mouth straight to my fist.”
“Oh I gotta go baaaad. Time to light more farts to burn portapoopies! Maybe some of my own too…” Bern rambles on as The Boss Gothic Diana Ross is long out of earshot, resting quietly inside her slate Victorian mansion.
Kankakee debt collector Sybil Kibble sure misses the taste of her favorite meal. She thought of buying an empty can off cBay just so she could have a whiff.
Manteno morons and portable toilet entrepreneurs Peppi and Bernadette Cacca cook the chicken burritos from Hell, so stinky they can be smelled all the way down in Kankakee. “What is this stench? It smells like chicken and dead bodies!” Kankakee denizen Sybil Kibble cries as she takes out the trash at her Kankakee McMansion.
“That’s it, I had enough!” the Caccas’ next door neighbor Trisha Cobb screams as she blasts her Gothic Diana Ross impersonation music. The Gothic Boss Miss Ross starts belting her impressions of “Where Did Our Love Go” and “You Keep Me Hangin On.”
Peppi and Bernadette Cacca’s orange tabby cat Danielle runs out the door as she has dealt enough with Bernadette’s accordion playing and Peppi’s yelling “git” every time she walks into the bathroom, interrupting his daily puking up last night’s booze. As Danielle makes her way over toward Gothic Diana Ross’ house and into her arms, Peppi decides he needs to plot revenge on his neighbor.
The inebriated Peppi turns on the television and falls asleep in his white tank top and black shorts, only to be awoken by Bernadette’s falsetto singing emanating from her bedroom. Peppi starts watching the infomercial featuring Kankakee pharmacy chain owner and inventor Wally Green featuring some type of Rube Goldberg machine.
“With separate compartments for high fructose corn syrup, formaldehyde and turds, the Turd Machine Deluxe will change your life!” the short, bald, heavyset, older gentleman exclaims.
“Now with a crosshairs and scope, you can aim as you please!” Wally continues to babble on.
Wally and Bernadette are sold. They call to order a gross but only 20 were left since they did not call in time, so the Caccas buy them out.
The 20 packages arrive at the Caccas’ Manteno residence. Suspicious, Gothic Diana Ross hatches a plan. The 5’10”, slender, black-haired, medium-skinned beauty in a black dress huddles with her fellow girl-group singers and their new cat Danielle.
One of the Midnight Supremes takes out her body jewelry, dons a brown wig to cover her blood-red extensions and puts on a pantsuit. She drives over to Peppi’s Port-o-Potties to make an inquiry.
“What do you do with the poop after people are done using your port-o-dumps?” the pretend customer asks.
“We burn it”, Peppi replies nonchalantly. “My wife Bernadette lights her farts to start the process.” Bernadette opens up a huge grin, and lets in a fly, loving the attention suddenly drawn to her. Gulp.
The disguised Midnight Supreme exits the business and gags, nearly tossing her cookies.
The next day, it is cloudy and overcast. Bernadette goes into the storage shed to mount one of the modified salad-shooters-which-now-fires-excrement onto the side of her and Peppi’s house.
“Twelve turd machines left. Someone stole eight of them!” Bernadette growls angrily and proceeds to mount not one but four turd machines, including one she aims out her kitchen window directly at Gothic Diana Ross’ slate Victorian house.
The next day, Gothic Diana Ross briefly steps outdoors to check her mail.
“Bang bang, you’re dead, fifty bullets in the head” Bernadette sings as she cranks the turd machine, firing at Diana and missing every shot. Diana makes it inside, unscathed but angry.
Bernadette turns her back and begins cheering, and then heads into her bedroom to record her next corona-concert for charity on her computer.
When Bernadette finishes her voice, piano and accordion recital for attention — as she does not care about the charity —- she cranks up the volume to make sure she hears the cheering reverberate through her bedroom, loud enough to annoy Miss Ross. “Thank you for another performance from the extraordinary Miss Cacca!” the Manteno Optimal Club spokesperson exclaims. “Bernadette is a national treasure. How can you say anything bad about her!” Bernadette’s already swollen head gets even bigger and she switches off her computer.
“Bernadette B-Flat!” an angered Gothic Diana Ross screams out her window.
“You are needed at a job!” Peppi yells into the room and the pair head over to the worksite, drop off their port-o-dumps and leave.
Peppy and Bernadette head back to the construction site to gather their property.
They haul the portable toilets to their house to clean and disinfect. Peppy empties all the crap into a bonfire in their backyard.
Bernadette goes to light a fart to kindle the port-o-potty-poopy-burners. “Wait, hon, I need to inspect first. All these regulations from Springfield you know!”
Bernadette lights her fart and oh my gosh, it was a big one! Her butt aflame, she lights not only the poopies, but Peppi too!
“Stop, drop and roll.”
“What? Peppi exclaims as he tries to put his clothes out.
Before long, the billowing smoke can be seen as far away as Schaumburg.
“I guess you should not have eaten those burritos, Bern,” Peppi mansplains to his wife.
Shady Bourbonnais neckbeard and communal narcissist Damien Hurlbutt went dumpster diving the morning after he and his part-time lover from Detroit, Rachel Shelley, got into a bitter fight and she threw some of his hoarded items into the dumpster.
“Dumpster! Dumpster! Dumpster!” Rachel cried as she chucked Damien’s hoard into the metal hopper outside his apartment.
As Damien dug for the treasures he loved more than his woman, little did he notice the danger lurking behind him.
Forty-something communal narcadoodle, show-tunes singer for charity and poopyburner Bern Moran Cacca made a TakTik video confessing her love for fellow pooper GG Allin, hoping to send it to him in private, only to realize he has been dead since 1993.
Credit Recovery Associates, LLC (CRASS) Bill Collector Dale Davis sits in the company break-room corner, all by his lonesome, wishing his boss / crush Sybil Kibble would come join him. He never asked her, just assumed.
He cut his hair and shaved his moustache just for her. Oh darn.
Illinois neckbeard, communal narcissist and movie theater clerk Damien Hurlbutt went off the deep end when his then-wife, Lori, stopped tolerating his verbal abuse and rightfully left him.
He sent this letter to her psychologist and her psychiatrist after she separated from him. Apparently, this ticket clerk thought he knew more about psychology than the licensed clinicians who practice. The latter provider called it a “lunacy letter.” The former said she had never seen anything like it in all her years practicing.
MoronicArts 
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