Tag: kankakee

Peppi Wants a New Drug

~ Jen ~ 20 Comments

“Been drinkin’ again?” Manteno narcissist Bernadette Cacca asks her husband, sociopath and portapotty co-proprietor Peppi Cacca.

“Can you blame me?” Peppi replies as he takes another moonshine swig from a jug marked “XXX”. 

“I want a new drug,” Peppi thinks to himself, “one that won’t make me heave.”

Peppi Cacca knows crap is king, after all he and Bern own a portopotty business. Bored with binge-watching the Crap Me Outside Girl rapping on TakTik, Peppi starts looking for videos on how to get high on uTube. After scrolling through pages of unpredictable results, Peppi sits through a four minute commercial and watches a video filmed at Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant.

“Plutonium tastes sweet” the presenter announces. 

Intrigued, Peppi asks YooHoo Answers in their Qanonsense section if Queue can tell him if snorting Plutonium can get him high. After all, Peppi believes everything he reads on the Internet.

Peppi goes to Wally Green’s and Bucketheads looking for plutonium to buy, but comes up empty. No 11 per cent off sale for him, no buy one, get one 50 per cent off (but never free) either.

Driving home, Peppi gets stuck at a light at the intersection underneath the I-57 interchange. Under the bridge he spots a wild Leona Krabalsky, the Kankakee town troll.

Peppi drives his crapmobile to the underpass, going through the red stoplight because he thinks the laws do not apply to him. Peppi rolls his window down and yells his mating call “git, git, git” to Leona. 

“I don’t want you and I am not for sale!” the elderly hag growls.

“You got some anything good?” Peppi clarifies wearing his turd-eating grin.

“I just might. What’s your pleasure?”

Peppi and Leona shake hands and Peppi peels out after chucking the brown paper bag into his backseat. Peppi rushes back home to meet wife Bernadette at their Manteno shack for dinner.

Bernadette and Peppi sit in their bedrooms, eat their Hardlees burgers and fries and belch a bunch of times. Bern lifts her leg and farts.

“Ahhh, that was a good one,” Bernadette says with glee.

Peppi takes his newly discovered rocks out the paper bag he bought from Leona.

 “Mmmmmmmmm…this is sweet” Peppi thinks out loud as he munches on the pebbles. 

Then Peppi pukes up his dinner since he was drunk. 

Bernadette walks in on Peppi tossing his cookies in their washroom.

“Hey, what’s up?” a nosey Bern asks her beloved Pep.

“Blecccccccchhhhhhhhhhhhh” Peppi repies into the toilet. 

“What were those cat turds doing in your bedroom? I need to burn them. Let me light a fart first to spark the flames and then I will watch them burn in the fireplace.”

Bern watches the glisten and pop, all aglow, gleaming like a twinkle in Bern’s eye. “Ooooh, that smell.”

Disgusted that Leona sold him fake Plutonium, Pep cooks up a way to make some cash.

Bern and Pep team up to make a mumble rap video. Pep raps and plays a single snare drum which fell off a truck, while Bern sings show-tunes while playing her accordion she uses to trick people on the internet into thinking she cares about charities.

The video fails to get monetized.

Bern makes a TakTik viral video lighting her farts and burning poopies in her fireplace which her fans adore. Then Bern runs out of poops because the neighborhood turd-burglar JB Martin stole them all.

Bern makes a collection of her own poops to burn since she needed more, and makes more TakTik videos, becoming an “influencer.” Companies offer to mail Bern free toilet paper in return for her becoming their brand ambassador.

As Bern logs into accept the free toilet paper, the Caccas’ fire alarm goes off from the unattended poopies burning in her fireplace.

The Manteno Fire Department rushes over to the Caccas’ house. 

Bern screams with excitement when the Waaaaaah Machines wail and fart as the firefighters rush to their house to put out the fire, clapping as they arrive.

“Hi guys, I really love those fart noises your fire engines make. Can I get one of those keen blow-horns for my house? I think they will go great with my accordion routine I do for charity and the Turd machine I mounted on the side of the shack to shoot at Gothic Diana Ross.”

“Shut up and leave, your house is on fire,” the firefighter warns Bern as the two Caccas walk away and watch their house burn, along with the poopies.

Golden Moron Award: Nice Try, PooTube.

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Dearest PooTube:

We see how very hard you choo-choo-choose to railroad Sybil into giving out her personal information so you can do lawd-knows-what with them. Maybe you sell them to data brokers so that any moron stalker, ex-con or fugitive can buy them. Maybe you line the birdcage with them? Nice try, you are not getting it.

For this, we award you the Golden Moron Award.

Happy Birthday to The Kibbler!

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Kankakee bill collector Sybil Katrina Kibble got mad at her Chrysler LeBaron because it stopped talking to her, and headed out on the bus to grab a treat. Seated ahead of her was Undead Greg Schneissder. “Do you know you’re a zombie?” Sybil asked Mr. Schneissder. Thankfully she kept her brain, because Greg eats poopies to stay alive, he likes the taste better.

Sybil’s ma JoAnn treated her to a Puppacino and she saved the bone for last.

Gothic Diana Ross Tunes In, Tunes Out the Dropouts on the Bus

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Life is too short for morons, and Gothic Diana Ross knows it. All she wants to do is ride the bus to go shopping, and leave the driving someone else. Barely catching the bus — and her breath — in this 90-degree Fakeout Summer day in October, the last thing Di needs is a lecture.

“You need to be at the stop when I pull up. I am behind schedule…” the Kankakee bus driver rambles on, blaming his tardiness on his customer again. The bald driver motions toward the slender black beauty, leader of The Midnight Supremes to sit down. She takes off her headphones briefly, asks the driver, “Do I have to pay?”

“You can pay me later.” Diana dons her headset and blasts herself some more Cold Cave.

“You were ten feet from the bus stop sign. You should really listen to my instructions when you board the bus…” the driver continues his tantrum, hoping to blame his customer yet again, or pick a fight, who knows.

“They’re coming to get you…Diana,” Undead Greg Schneissder mockingly says to the unfettered Diana who has heard none of the malarky, rightfully ignoring the nitwit just like she does the moron in the driver’s seat who is supposed to be helping people get from Point A to Point B.

Life is too short to argue with fools who complain to their customers, failing to realize all that wasted time wind-bagging could have been better spent, you know, driving the freaking bus.

MoronicCARS

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No — not MoronicCarts, nor MoronicARTS. What cars do these fictional idiots drive — some better than others? Learn more in these videos.

Sybil Kibble loves her Chrysler LeBaron. It’s the only person the Kankakee bill collector and Alpo connoisseur likes talking to.

Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes love driving their 1988 Chrysler Conquest TSi. Though it does not talk — unlike Sybil’s Chrysler — it’s a lot of fun to drive. And back in 1991, Greg Snyder saw someone going down the road who owned one.

Manteno entramanure, communal narcadoodle and bad driver Bernadette Cacca could be driving any of these cars. She just does not give a crap, because she thinks she’s above the law and it does not apply to her.

Brandon Allen Dixon owns an imbecile machine lot. Like the dealer says as he works the lot, “I own one of these babies myself. Let’s go!”

Kankakee Elvis impersonator, wannabe ladies’ man and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt drives one of these exact same clown cars, but in purple:

Six! That’s Six Moronic Years! Ah, Ah, Ah.

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

We made it another year around the Sun. Thank you readers for ingesting these tall tales of the Moroniverse. Yum.

Bernadette Cacca Blames The Poopy Groupies For Her Bad Driving

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Manteno’s very own Bernadette Cacca, Queen of the Porcelain Throne and communal narcadoodle brags and boasts about everything whether people want to read it — or not.

“I am on my way to Chicago now to do a potty job! I have only been there once and I have lived in Illinois my ENTIRE LIFE!”

The one-time wrestler and dishonorably discharged soldier Bernadette peels out her Kant Street driveway, thinking she’s drifting, when she is really just a drifter.

“This traffic is crazy! I have never seen it this way!” Bernadette says as she makes her way up 57 toward 90/94, weaves in and out of traffic, nearly clipping an 18-wheeler. Pretty red, blue and yellow lights shine down from the heavens and illuminate the dazed and confused Cacca.

“Oh hi Officer! My name is Bernadette Cacca, you may know me from–“

“License and registration, ma’am.”

“I love your perfume. Are you having a baby?”

“No, I’m just fat. Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asks a befuddled Bern, trying to hide the frustration in his face of having just been misgendered.

“Pulled me over? Little old me? I’m a star you know. Here, have a sucker.”

“I’ll let that go for now. You were going 99 miles-per-hour and you nearly caused an accident.”

“Oh beautiful, come here. I will buy you a drink and comp you at my next show.”

“I am writing you a ticket for the speeding and issuing an appearance ticket for bribery.”

“Let me speak to your supervisor.”

“Slow down, Karen,” the cop orders Bernadette as he hands her two the tickets she had rightfully earned and safely merges back into traffic. Meanwhile, Bernadette pulls out her smell phone, texts and pulls away as she barfs up this monstrosity onto The Poopy Groupies Fakebook page and Instaspam:

Then she poops her pants. Gotta mine that Craptocoin the old-fashioned way: by making NFTs (Newly Formed Turds).

Behind the Moroniverse: Peppi and Bernadette

~ Jen ~ 5 Comments

Manteno’s own Peppi and Bernadette Cacca might seem like empty characters at first, however there is a much darker side to them. Like all my characters, the Caccas are inspired by a combination of real people.

I have known Bernadette’s main inspiration my entire life. She had lived next to my grandmother. As kids, she was the entitled brat who wanted things her way or the highway. I used to try and dodge her, running the other way because she annoyed me so much, but then she would not leave me alone.

I clearly remember her insisting on calling me my deadname, despite my pleas for her to stop. Bernadette hasn’t any concept of boundaries and neither does her main inspiration. She just pretends to care.

In high school, she had found a way to manipulate people into thinking she was a wonderful person. I had to ask her an urgent question for a design I was creating for a play in which she starred, right before I had to catch the bus to trade school to design it. Instead of turning around and answering me, the “stage manager extraordinaire” sitting atop a desk kept talking faster and louder to the other student, drowning me out.

To add insult to injury, the real-life communal narcissist tricked the teacher into making ME apologize to HER. I will never forgive her for that abuse.

The real-life communal narc had been working on an app-only HBO show of some sort and playing piano for an LGBTQIA+ charity. You read that right; the same person who deadnamed me repeatedly is raising money for an LGBTQIA+ cause. Hmmm…

Now she is gaslighting people into thinking she cares about the Russian invasion into Ukraine, singing at charity events to raise money, and course to get that almighty photo opportunity. My best friend and her husband have family in Ukraine; this is personal for me. I do not care about a moronic photo op when my friends and their family are fighting for their lives, running from a DIC-tator who wants to bring about the Apocalypse.

I read she yelled at a late-night television host for getting too close to her piano. This behavior does not surprise me, having come from a person who has a history displaying her sense of entitlement to those closest to her.

I created my character to help cope with a lifetime of abuse from a narcissist who tricks virtually everyone into seeing her mask, which I suspect has been crumbling. I hope it falls off for good and she slithers away into a life of obscurity, working by herself, abusing nobody. Or maybe she will live out her life in the bog, devouring the living like the character whom she had inspired, Bernadette Moran Cacca.

Have you known a person like this?

Peppi Cacca’s name came from a rabid doorman in Italy who sexually assaulted me. Character Peppi Cacca’s main inspiration is a toxic, former neighbor who had stunk up my apartment with skunky weed and sadly abused his cat. I had gotten the idea from Pepe LePew and used to call him Pepe LePuke as I heard him through the ceiling vomiting every morning while he was upstairs visiting his boyfriend with whom he was having an affair. I am so glad to be out of that apartment complex, and in a much quieter, cleaner place – waking up to birds in the trees, not skunk-weed stench.

Awhile back, I had overheard him on the bus bragging to the driver about his drinking, making the excuse “can you blame me?”

I blame him for his own behavior.

Bernadette Cacca is Going on a MoronQuest!

~ Jen ~ 3 Comments

Bernadette “Bern” Cacca has driven to Okanagan, British Columbia, Canada to seek out the last known copy of “The Wonderful World of Dung.” 

Sidetracked, Bernadette goes on a Monster Quest: to find Ogopogo. Bern is hoping to mine some Craptocoin from its poop to make a special variety of Cryptidcoin called CraptoCryptidCoin. 

“I totally have to get a selfie with this monster.”

Hours pass, no sign of the legendary sea monster Ogopogo. 

“Hey, anybody got some Ogopogo poop? I want to make a sculpture outta it. I’m a famous content creator and influencer from Illinois!”

“Who?”

“Don’t you know who I am?”

The locals visiting the lake roll their eyes from one side to another, slowly.

A group of offended Canadians hoist the relentless Bernadette into a cannon and very politely yeet her from the premises. Bernadette is good at getting yeeted.

“Sorry,” the crowd chants as Bernadette flies far far away, and then they slow-clap for her performance.

“What was that thing?”

“Swamp witch?” The man scratches his head and the crowd disperses.

Bernadette calls the bootleg tape seller, Gary, on her smell-phone and meets up with him at a local poutine shop. 

“How much do you want for the tape?”

 “Three fiddy.” 

“Do you accept Craptocoin?”

“No, sorry, only cash. That’s how you pay for stuff, eh?”

Bernadette checks her pockets which come up empty.

Penniless and disappointed, the entramanure drives back home to Manteno, Illinois in the U S of A. She and her husband Peppi burn some poopies from the portapotties which Peppi had brought home from a job and emptied into a bonfire out back.

While watching the poopies gleam, Bernadette looks over at her stoner husband Peppi laughing his bum off at a video he is watching online using his phone.

“Git!”

“Oh honey, not now. Maybe later on.” Bern declines Peppi’s mating call.

“What are you watching?”

Bernadette looks over Peppi’s shoulder to read his PooTube screen: “The Wonderful World of Dung.” It had been posted a year ago.

My Superiority Complex is Better Than Yours!

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Bradley barista, narcadoodle and former wrestler known as “Calm Down” Jina Hansen badly projects her own insecurities onto her coffeehouse staff to try and puff herself up.

“How many more drinks will you spill this week?”

“Come over here. Look at this and tell me it’s done right.”

“Stop treating your staff like crap!” a regular tells Jina.

“Oh they are my friends, we are only joking,” the 40-something Jina gaslights, as she tapes a customer’s receipt to the forehead of her 17-year old trainee.

Jina drives home and cries, losing sleep over the shell of herself she has become, knowing she will never get to be as good as she wants to be in life because her standards for everyone — including herself — are impossible. Then she craps her pants.