Sybil Kibble’s favorite TV commercial

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.

Hurlbutt Holiday Cheer

Dysfunctional family portrait starring the Hurlbutts: Robbie, PJ and Damien. Merry Christmas from Kankakee County!

Peppi’s Poopy Problems

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. 

Kankakee Ruins

Sybil Kibble sure does miss this place.

The aroma would open up the eyes of her heart and maybe make her want to fart.

Feel the power of the Kankakee dog food factory, a Kankakee stalwart.

Waste Removal

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.

Butt, Is It Art?

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.

#PoopingForBernadette

Dale Sits in the Corner

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.

Lunacy Letter From Damien

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.

Who makes up this stuff?

Oh yeah, people with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).

Lunacy Letter from Damien

Robbie’s Number One Video

Kankakee Elvis impersonator, covert narcissist and little stinker Robbie Hurlbutt sees a lot of himself in Robbie Rotten. After all, he is Number One!

Hard Time

“Man, I had a hard life,” Kankakee drug addict and all-around loser Leon Peeonne says to fellow junkie Rachel Shelley, as they glare aimlessly into the flatscreen television setting ahead of them.

“Where did you get that rad TV?”

“Fell off a truck,” Leon chortles as they share a laugh and two partners in crime wrap their arms around each other.

Rachel’s ringer goes off.

“It’s Damien…” Rachel sighs.

“That moron? Send him to voicemail.”

Rachel sneaks off into the washroom.

“Where are you?” a grumpy Damien asks.

“I am out.”

“I heard some noise in the background. What are you doing, M’lady, Madame?”

“Business.”

“Okay honey puddin’, just checking up on you.” Damien slyly says.

“For the last time, don’t call me that!”

“I only say it because I love you!” Damien replies.

“I am leaving for Michigan next week, and I just got here. I gotta go.”

“Okay honey pudd—“ Beep.

Damien hears a dial tone and cannot figure out why. He goes back to cloning movie tickets using the company printers.

Rachel joins her secret lover on the couch.

“MANTENO CHILD ON THE SPECTRUM GETS HER WISH”

“Oh, look how sweet!” Rachel says sarcastically.

“I bet that DIDN’T fall off a truck.” Leon snarks.

“This brave little girl has been the victim of bullies all her life. So local charities stepped in and bought her a Playtendo and 10 games to go with it.

‘I am so happy now. I can’t wait to play all these! Thank you!’ says 10 year old Anna of Manteno.”

“Awwww, sucks to be her, she was bullied. Hey, they showed her address. Maybe we can steal her crap?”

“Maybe we can. And then we can get her mom to post about it on my mental health group on Fakebook, so I can harass her there, too!” Rachel shares with Leon and they both giggle a little too much…way too much. Then they shoot up.

Rachel drives Leon in her rental car over to Manteno searching for the home of the 10 year old they just saw on TV so they can steal her Playtendo to sell for drug money.

“I think this is it.” Rachel says to Leon as she spies the house she saw on the news. She parks the car around the corner, walks up to the ranch and rings the doorbell. A gentleman answers.

“Oh hi. We are volunteers from Kankakee County and wanted to pay a mental health visit. Can we come in?” Rachel asks the gentleman.

“I will ask my wife.”

A few minutes elapse, and the two tresspassers are still standing in the doorway. An older lady can be seen walking on the sidewalk.

Some commotion is heard coming from inside the house; typical kids.

Rachel’s phone rings. She ignores it. It continues to ring.

“What do you want?” Rachel asks Damien.

“I’m home!”

“Yeah? So?”

“Aren’t you gonna come see me, Honey Puddin’? I have presents!”

“Damien, I am busy right now”. Rachel hangs up her phone.

“Okay you guys need to leave.”

“Can we come in for a minute? I promise we won’t be long.” Leon says to the mother.

“Leave now, or I am calling police.”

The older lady off in the distance, looking vaguely familar to Leon, is on her phone.

“Okay. We will leave. Here is a brochure for our great mental health group on Fakebook.”

“Take your group and shove it. We have a great neuropsychologist and are doing fine.”

Sirens are heard and flashing lights are seen.

Leon and Rachel hurl some colorful language at the family.

“Would you use those words in front of your mother?” The girl’s mom asks Leon and Rachel.

“Let me tell you about my motha!” Leon deadpans as he reaches for some object in his jean pocket known only to him. A cop on scene grabs Leon’s hands, pins them to his back and reads him his Miranda rights.

“That’s mah boy!” a nearby Leona Krabalsky snarks. “Lock him up!”

“Ma?” Leon screams as he is hauled away.

Leon is charged and later convicted of attempted burglary, heroin possession with intent to distribute, disorderly conduct and unlawful possession of a firearm.

Damien continues to call Rachel back at her home in Detroit and she continues to not give a crap.