Ever want to know where wannabe ladies’ man, covert narcadoodle, and Kankakee’s Number One Elvis impersonator Robert Roy Gary Hurlbutt was conceived?
Neither does he. Robbie’s mother PJ Hurlbutt loves to remind her son where she got one of his two middle names in front of his boss, customers and potential girlfriends the groovy time she and his father N. Ron had one night in early 1978.
Business is crappy at Peppi’s Portapotties and there has been a brownout at the spectacle known as the Manteno Optimal Club. Despite offering “free tickets” to Robbie Hurlbutt, Madeline Topolla-Teirant, Konrad Teriant, Judi Avelli, her mother Carla and the Cheshire Cat, nobody’s falling for the “two drink minimum” scam anymore.
Needing take make extra dough, bog witch, communal narcadoodle and entramanure Bernadette Moran Cacca applies for a job at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS), the company at which nearly all of Kankakee County has worked at one time. She is so good at annoying people that Clio Bersola hires her right on the spot.
“Would you like take a survey?” Bernadette asks her first caller. “You have been specially selected because your opinion matters!”
“Would you like take a survey?”
“Would you like take a survey?”
“You have been specially selected.”
“Your opinion matters!”
Instead of hounding people for money or craptocoin tips, the wrestler once known as The Manteno Wonder haunts CRASS debtors and creditors with survey spam.
The calls go on and on.
“Is she that weird lady who works down at that Manteno port-o-dump facility?” Dale asks Polly.
“Oh yeah, I see her on TV all the time. Those ads drive me crazy!”
“Just another day in Kank!”
The collectors share a chuckle.
“Good job, keep it up. You’re the only person who applied for this job, so we hired you. What’s your name again?” Sybil says.
“Don’t you know who I am?” the show-tune cover queen and portapotty empress Bernie asks her boss.
“Um…no. That’s why I asked you.”
“I do the charity gigs at the Manteno Optimal Club! I sing showtunes, play piano and blow vuvuzela horn.”
“Well don’t blow this job.”
Sybil goes to Schmucks a few days later to stock up on her Alpo meals. Not finding good deals on her favorite food, she walks across the street to the Wally Green’s and gets one can at regular price and another for half-off (but never free). While browsing the Sleevies, StrangleTangles and Turd Machine Deluxes, her new employee runs up to her as if to hug her, unfortunately.
“Hi there, my fabulous boss!”
“I’m busy.”
“Let me drive you home.”
“No thanks, my car is a block away from here.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have to drive in the rain.”
Not wanting to isolate her new hire, Sybil reluctantly wheels her doggie bags to the trunk of Bernie’s poopmobile and gets in front. Before she has a chance to close the car door, let alone don her seat belt, Bernadette peels out of the Wally Green’s parking lot.
“Slow down there…Nelly.”
“My name’s not Nelly.”
“OK, just drop me off at Schmucks. I took the preggers parking spot. Nobody’s gonna look inside my womb to verify.”
Bernadette loads the heavy cans into Sybil’s car.
“Call me if you need anything, pal!”
“Yeah sure, thanks!”
Sybil drives her white Chrysler LeBaron home, makes sure the oil is not low, and carries her suppers inside. While munching on some milk bones, Sybil checks her voicemail.
“This is a reminder call for: Sybil Kibble. You have a colonoscopy scheduled in three weeks. Please call us back to confirm your appointment. Be sure to have a driver because you cannot legally drive the day of your procedure.”
“Oh crap. I forgot about that.”
Trying to find someone to bring you to a procedure is as bad as finding people to help you move.
Sybil calls down to her mother and asks if she can bring her.
“No, I’m playing Bingo with the girls that day,” JK yells up to her daughter from her basement apartment’s air vent.
She reluctantly calls Dale Davis, even though she’s the object of his unwanted affection.
“No boss, I have to work that day. You scheduled me, remember?”
Out of options, The Kibbler texts The Manteno Wonder.
“Oh yeah, I will take the day off just for you.” Bernadette replies, then she poops.
Bernadette repeatedly texts Sybil daily to ask if she needs any supplies, toilet paper or liquids. However, Sybil says no thanks to the offers, except for the dog food one.
“My two favorite words, free food!” Sybil tells Mrs. Cacca.
“You’re the best!”
Something does not feel right about her newly found friend (not to be confused with Newly Formed Turds). “How can someone be so fond of me, so quickly?” Sybil writes in her diary. “I walk away from her with a funny taste in my mouth but I cannot quite put my finger on it.”
The weather has cooled off a bit in the two-and-a-half weeks which have passed. It’s Friday night after a long, stressful week at work, and Sybil is happy to be back at her Kankakee home.
“Can you come over and check to see if I locked my door?” Bernadette texts, asking about her shack up in Manteno.
Sybil plays The Crushing Candy Game for an hour and then texts Bernie back, “yeah, it’s locked” before going back to her phone, then watches some Unsolved Mysteries.
Sybil texts Bernie to ask for some toilet paper, however she gets no reply.
She shoots another text: “I’ll give you a ten.”
Another hour passes, so she sends out her ma to get the TP instead.
It’s the Sunday before her procedure. Between potty runs, Sybil texts Bernadette to confirm the time tomorrow. An hour passes, no answer. She calls Bernie, who answers after the third try.
“What do you want?” Bernadette snarks.
“I’m just calling to confirm the time you’re come getting me.”
“Just have them call me when you’re ready. I’m not going in.”
“You ARE bringing me TO and FROM my procedure right?”
“I have to meet someone by 9:30 for a portapotty job.
“OK, just pick me up at 8:45.”
“That’s fine. But I’m not signing any paperwork.”
After a very long, sore night, it’s now the bottom of the hour on colonoscopy day.
Bernadette peels onto Sybil Lane and into Ms. Kibble’s driveway.
“Ready to go?”
“Yeah, I’ve been going all night!”
Awkward silence passes.
Bern Cacca — the proud G.G. Allin fan and craptocoin miner — does not even flinch at Sybil’s poop joke.
“Just give me directions.”
Despite looking so good on the outside by giving her a lift, the charity-side-show-queen Bernadette does not even bother to ask Sybil how she’s feeling.
“Just have them call me. But, I’m not signing any papers.”
“What do you mean by not signing papers, if you don’t mind I ask?”
“I don’t want to sign anything I don’t know what I’m signing up for.”
“They might need you to sign a discharge paper, to say you are picking me up, that’s it.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll have them call you.”
Bernadette still does not even ask Sybil how she’s feeling, and instead pulls away. Sybil enters the outpatient facility to bravely face the her anal probe alone.
The procedure goes well. Sybil enjoys the best 10 minutes of sleep ever, and then awakens in the recovery room full of people fart-fart-farting away.
“Good news, Ms. Kibble. I circled Uranus and found no Klingons.”
“Great news doc. Have you got ahold of my ride?”
“We’ll have the nurse keep trying.”
Eventually Bernadette pulls into the outpatient facility.
“Slow down!” the guard warns her.
Sybil Kibble gets wheeled to Bernie’s car and she gets in. “How’d it go?” Bernie asks Sybil.
“It went well. No abnormalities.”
“Did they use real anesthesia?”
“No…just the Fisher Price kind.” Sybil deadpans.
“Great, let’s get you home.”
Bernadette spends the whole ride home complaining about “the sky poop” and her online battles with people who “don’t get her revolutionary ideas,” because “it must be that Manteno water,” while explaining in detail every little chore she has done for CRASS, The Poopy Groupies and The Manteno Optimal Club.
What doesn’t Bernadette do? Ask Sybil how she’s feeling, of course. Instead she peels into the Kibble homestead’s driveway, dumps Sybil on her doorstep like a turd, peels out and waves, evil grin showing off the barely good deed she did for a fellow citizen. She cannot wait to brag about this all over Fakebook and Instaspam!
Mrs. Cacca shows up for work at CRASS the next day, walks in the door bright and cheery, mouth wide open as if to catch a fly, eyes as cold as always to hide her daily fear and self-loathing. She struts right by Sybil’s cubicle, and toward Marketing until Sybil calls her name at the top of her lungs:
“B. M. Cacca, come to my cubicle now!” The call center floor giggles.
Bernadette sits down at her desk in Marketing, defying her boss’ orders.
“Bern Cacca, please see Sybil Kibble immediately,” Accounts Receivable Chief Tara Bull calls over the intercom.
Bernadette chooses to ignore the page, so Sybil walks over to her instead, stack of papers in hand.
Sybil faces Bernadette.
“Your position has been eliminated due to lack of business needs. Resign immediately or be terminated.”
“I told you, I’m not signing anything!”
“OK. You’re fired. You have a 30 minute window to clean out your desk before Security escorts you out the door.”
“I WANT to SPEAK to the MANAGER!”
“I AM the manager.”
“No, YOUR MANAGER!” Karen — err — Bernadette, cries, throwing a toddler-tantrum.
“I’m giving you five minutes to leave,” a tall, fit, medium skinned woman wearing box braids demands.
“Do you know who I am?” Bernadette asks.
“No, do you know who I am?”
“I need the manager STAT!”
“I AM the manager. Leave now before we prepare the trebuchet.”
“Can I go to the washroom first?
“That’s it!”
A tiny violin is heard over the intercom, then Sybil’s voice commands: “YEET!”
The entire company cheers as Bernadette gets flung to lawd-only-knows-where.
“I wonder how she is feeling now?” Ms. Kibble giggles to herself before taking another supervisor call.
Sybil Kibble, a 60-something Kankakee bill collector who eats dog bones on her lunch breaks hasn’t met her soulmate…until now. All she has to is ask Randy out on a date.
And if Mr. Quaid is says no, there’s always Guillermo.
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.
Every year on September 31, Kankakee debt collection firm Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) wants staff to bring their parents in to have fun at their team-building events like the Medicine Pronouncing Contest, Browser Loading Race and Bill-Collector Speed Dating.
Collections Team Leader Sybil Kibble brought her ma JoAnn to enjoy learning how to bother people on the phone to ask for money they likely do not even owe, and her mother took 3rd prize in the CRASS Idol singing competition. Sybil took last place because her mouth was full of dog bones while she tried to belt a tune.
Kankakee’s newest Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) debt collector, member of “The Haggs” band and humanoid veggie Demanda Broccoli runs around the office asking her co-workers to sniff her feet.
“Get back to your cubicle, now!” Team Leader Sybil Kibble commands.
Demanda goes back to her cube, but not on the phones. When Sybil isn’t looking, she walks over to the supervisor cube, and scrawls on her marker-board, “I love Damien Hurlbutt!“
“No! Get back to your workstation and on the phones! Now!”
“OK-OK-OK-OK-OK” she snarks. Then she runs over to the executive suite and rips a fart that would make Bernadette Cacca envious.
“Did someone light a stinkbomb?” CRASS Controller Konrad Teirant asks.
Sybil Kibble spies her loose subordinate, grabs her by the crown and hauls her back to her seat.
“This is your final warning. Do some work. That’s why we pay you to come in. You DO want money, right?”
“Oh, that’s how it works…”
Sybil just shakes her head and walks away as Ms. Broccoli dons her headset.
“Credit Recovery Associates, Demanda.”
“Hi, this is Bernadette Cacca. Can I pay my bill in craptocoins? I just mined them myself…
Coming soon to the corner of Wally and Green’s! What kinda crap is Kankakee ladies’ man, barfly and wacky inventor Wally Green cooking up now?
Sponsored by WallyMobile
Introducing the new mobile phone plan from Wally Green’s! Exclusive to our stores, WallyMobile offers unlimited talk/text, a super-hard to navigate touch-screen, and plenty of not-so-yummy tracking cookies to slow your phone while consuming your data! Apply today! Be sure to pay for it using your Wally Green’s credit card as we do not accept Craptocoin.
MyDoucheBag
These extra, extra-plopsy bags are made from recycled douche and rusty canoes. With more pockets than you’ll ever need, these bags are specially designed to make sure you lose your stuff! Wally’s patented CrapStraps will be sure to tangle and strangle the wearer. Buy one get one half off (but never free)!
ScrewyLid
Are your tumbler lids too easy to take off and put back on? Try Wally’s new ScrewyLid! Using the same design our adult-proof pill-bottle lids, you will be sure you lose your top! Screw it back on, but ohhh, it’s stuck half-way again. Pick one up at Wally Green’s on the corner nearest you! Three for $7.00! (Must buy three)
Throw-a-Fit Blankets
Do you get frustrated trying to keep your fitted sheets on the bed? Now, throw a fit, every time you try to fit this throw onto your bed, only for it to fling right off. You might as well throw it away.
Imagine a debit card with a 69% introductory UFO on purchases (for complete pricking information and impotent terms and conditions, policing of services, delimiters, modifiers and values, please clink on the lick below) and a 30-second online alien abduction (subject yourself to verification).
Apply now at Wally Green’s for an Area 51 Visa credit card!
“You might never encounter an offer quite close to being this good!” — Wally Green, Founder of Wally Green’s drugstore, inventor of the Turd Machine Deluxe and invader of spaces.
Coming soon: Alien Abduction Insurance. It’s hot!
MoronicArts 
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