Hey, sis, Bernadette’s enabler aunt almost ran me over tonight!

Carla Moran and her closet alcoholic sister have made it a habit to eat dinner over at Bernadette and Peppi Cacca’s house next door. You know, those loud stinky idiots who complain about our music. Those shapeshifting vultures rarely used to come here to visit the bog-witch except on occasion at holidays. Carla and Sonya flew in from Albion, Indiana, after doing sky donuts looking for carrion, I’m sure.

Tonight when I was halfway through the street, the aunt of that stupid communal narcadoodle Bernadette made a left out of Bern’s parking lot and nearly hit me. I waved at the driver, to alert her to wait. Nope, stupid moron kept beeping at me.

I screamed at her, and then flipped the bird once I had safely crossed. Her family is chock fulla enablers and I wish someone had taken the aunt’s keys away by now. Stupid fool drinks wine by the box! Hey, I’m no angel however I am in recovery and it’s daily, hard work. Ya know what? I do it.

Diana

“Hey, I am almost to the bank, I’ll text you later.”

–Sonya

k

— sent from a jpay phone

Hey, my dahling niece Bernadette. The bank is closed. I ran all the way there only for them to close on me! Their ATM is broken. Sorry I cannot bail you out. When is your trial?

–Sonya

Not soon enough. I cannot believe this community allowed this to happen to me. I do so much for you, I do so much for them. I am an Actor/musician/writer/piano bar empress who raises money for charity. I paid to heal 1000 blind men on TakTik all with craptocoins straight from my bum! I am God, and in prison, about to be hung from a cross. This is all their fault!

— sent from a jpay phone

Diana is fed up with the Caccas’ and Morans’ shenangians:

Hello sir:

May I please submit a tip to you regarding a drunk driver? I almost got hit by her Friday around 7:15PM at the intersection of Kant Street and Utica Ave in Manteno, Illinois. Her name is Sonya Moran and she lives at 1304 O’Brien Ave, Albion, IN. She is a closet alcoholic and usually starts drinking around 4:30 PM daily.

Can the police please keep an eye on that area? I don’t want her to hit anybody. It almost happened to me. I think she drives a white crossover of some sort. 

I want no drama, just want to keep people safe.

Sincerely,

Trisha Cobb (Gothic Diana Ross)

Bernadette gets desperate for bail money by leaving fake reviews using her jpay mobile phone, which she loaded with craptocoin:

Bernadette Cacca recommends Black Kow Manure

I met a recommendation by someone on this page writing how Mr Pat Splatt helped her earn $10,000 with $700 weekly on forex and craptocoin trading, wow I’m happy to let you know that it’s so real contact him now to know how its works and start making profit on craptocoin trades. Whatsapp: +1(815) 555-1896

“Success doesn’t come to you, You go to it… I’m not the one to call you to invest and have a bright financial situation. If you know what’s right, you’re supposed to contact him now and start trading ASAP”

Stylish interior

Tasting menus

Curbside Pickup

— sent from a jpay phone

“Come on Bernadette, we’re letting you go home.”

“Bail reform in my favor?”

“No, your farts are a safety hazard and pose a security risk to the other inmates.”

“Woo-hoo! I’m free!” Manteno’s favorite fake-do-gooder, communal narcadoodle and entramanure does a little happy dance, gyrating her hips like she’s pouring soft-serve from her bum.

Bernadette is in such a hurry to become irregular that she nearly runs over one of the regulars at the coffeehouse. She is a crappy driver.

She wants to get the runs, Gotta mine that craptocoin and those NFTs: newly-formed turds for her charity singing and kazoo playing which she does only for the photo opportunity. Looks are deceiving because she makes a good dog-and-pony poop show pretending she cares. 

She only loves poop. 

Bernadette calls her husband Peppi to let him know that she is free from jail. “We need a new jingle for our portable john business.”

“Like a hole in the head we do!” Peppi replies.

“How about we do a mashup of Lincolnshire Poacher and Funeral March for a Marionette and you rap over it? I’ll play the entire song on accordion and kazoo.”

“Mayyyybeee…” Peppi chortles as he takes a huge drag off his skunky joint. The Caccas love to smell bad.

Leona Krabalsky scowls at Sybil Kibble the whole time she is in her range of view at the Bourbonnais Buckstars. Leona’s evil gaze goes right through Sybil and she smiles wide intentionally, because she is living her best life and wants it to show. She cannot wait to taste that initial sip. 

“Can I ask you something?” Leona asks Sybil, despire her body language giving off a glaring “no.”

Sybil makes her way back to her table to drink her iced mocha. Meanwhile Kankakee County troll Leona follows her to her table to spam her some more with her unsolicited advertisements of her nosey questions.

Sybil waves her arms to assert Leona “no,” however she asks anyway. “Where did you get that bag, I like that bag.”

“No means no!” Sybil chants, grabs her things and leaves. No Area 31 Bag sale for pyramid schemer and hag Leona.

Frustrated with her lack of business, Leona Krabalsky makes her way for home, the Exit 315 interchange. As she sulks, a mad driver squeals her brakes as she pulls over to Mrs. Krabalsky, nearly hitting her.

“Hey where did you get that bag?”

Stunned, Leona’s eye open up wide, her jaw drops.

“Area 31.”

“Did it come from outer space?”

“No, but I can get you a deal that is out of this world.”

The two morons shake hands, Sonya Moran peels away, her niece Bernadette Moran Cacca smiles with her tongue hanging out.

Sonya and Bernadette head toward Manteno and the Bradley police car makes his usual patrol up and down the main drag — or does he?

Happy to be free from jail Bernadette heads upstairs to the washroom and pinches a massive loaf, not even waving to her husband Peppi sitting on the rocking chair, drinking moonshine.

“Time to mine more craptocoin! My turd vault is fresh out.”

A siren heard in the background, gets louder, its doppler effect fading as the decibels rise.

“Ooh, party horns!” Bernadette jumps for joy.

Bernadette tells her aunt about her prison stay:

“I had an absolutely epic month in jail. Had the ENORMOUS pleasure of police reading my terrifically, bigly, colorful rights in a flashy car. Stellar food — included with cot are THREE HOTS and many visits with friends from far and near. Wow. Here’s to Kankakee County Jail.”

“What are you on, hon?” Peppi asks his wife Bernadette. “Can I get some of that?”

Bernadette’s smell phone rings but she does not answer, too busy gushing about her fun times behind bars and all the friends she made. “They are totally going to give me community service, I just KNOW it.”

Bernadettes phone continues to ring as she continues to ignore it.

“Darn it. I did not know these fools were going to pay in Craptocoin.” Leona says to her sister Doris. Leona makes a call to someone else.

January 14, 2023, was the last day I performed in person with other people. I was at The Manteno Optimal Club, and I re-live-streamed my shift because I honestly wanted to encourage people.  I thought, “This will be an interesting experiment for a couple of months or however long they keep me in this silly prison cell.” ONE MONTH LATER, and a BIG thank you Aunt Sonya.”

“Wooo-hoo!” the histrionic Sonya screams as she runs and then jumps onto her man Bingle-Derry, spindly legs wrapped clear around his waist.

“Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Manteno Police. This is not a joke.”

Peppi opens the door, glad that his stash is well hidden.

“Are you Mr. Peepee…Cacca?”

“Peppi.”

“We need a word with your wife. Is she home?”

Bernadette retracts in fear, stunned she could possibly be in trouble. After all, she thinks she did nothing to deserve her jail sentence. Her mind races as she prepares excuses.

“We heard that you were dealing in some funny money.”

“Oh not her, she is a WONDERFUL person,” Sonya tells the cop.

“I am asking Bernadette.”

“Sir, we can talk about this. Here, how much do you need for your funding? Let me get you a coffee and–“

“Don’t bribe me unless you want arrested.”

The smell of Bernadette burning her turds overwhelms the cop, who coughs his way out the Cacca homestead.

“Oh hey officer, ya got a minute?” Gothic Diana Ross asks, gesturing for the cop to come over to her next-door home.

The gothic singer and the officer exchange information and a wandering Leona Krablasky slaps Di five.

Bernadette gets yeeted from her home and back into the clink where she belongs, along with her aunt Sonya who is thrown into the drunk tank.

Much to Bernadette’s dismay, and the delight of her fellow inmates, the jail chef changes the menu to a bland diet.