“Dog bones, water, washrooms” – Sybil Kibble, Bill Collector, Kankakee
”Life, death and everything in-between” – Gothic Diana Ross, Singer and Vet Tech, Manteno
”Showers, fedoras and food that’s not corn…preferably cheeseburgers and fries…M’lady.“ – Damien Hurlbutt, Area 51 test subject (Formerly of Bourbonnais and Champaign
”Elvis records, blue suede shoes and fine women!” – Robbie Hurlbutt, singer and pharmacy clerk, Kankakee
“Poop, poop and more poop” – Bernadette M. Cacca, entramanure, Manteno
Crapstraps, Turd Machines and Mr. Plopsy Canes. I should know, I invented them myself!” – Wally Green, Pharmacy chain owner, Bradley (Formerly of Deerfield)
Let the gleaming forces of entropy work for you…we mean us of course!
Are you disabled with an incurable brain disease and have trouble getting out to buy your your urgent lifesaving medications? Try Wally Green’s patented new Ghastlighting medication delivery alert program! This crappy idea was inspired by a certain pharmacy chain named after the Parkway in Utica. We might show up with your drugs, we might not and then say we did anyway! If you die, who cares? Call our confidently incorrect pharmacy technicians, we will just groupthink-lie and say you were not at home – like a dog licking its nads – because we can.
Wally asks, why use empathy, honestly and compassion when it’s easier to be a greedy, spineless moron instead?
By the way, ladies, he’s single! 5/3 MAGAts approve this message.
We are doing CONSTRUTION in all our stores to tighten up our aisles so we can overwhelm our shelves with even more useless crap, so we can increase your chances of winning a blow to the head, a stubbed toe or just maybe some sleevies might plop into your cart!
If you’re even (un)luckier, the plop factor could follow you home to knock over your phone, lose your keys or spill your coffee all over the floor!
Coming soon to your local Wally’s: Cat-GPT!
Let your cat walk across the keyboard, and Cat-GPT will invent all kinds of new slop you never knew you wanted! Have your cat enter our competition to invent new nonsense for all our stores to sell. Buy one, get one half off (but never free).
Not valid in Manteno, sorry.
Close your eyes…imagine our new WallyCard offer, now with a 69% UFO! Ask Wally in person for a date and he might lower your rate! Maybe…
Kankakee town troll Leona Krabalsky runs from Manteno sociopath and port-a-potty entremanure Peppi Cacca confronts her for selling fake drugs down below the I-57 overpass.
The king of the porcelain throne drunkenly aims a hair-dryer out the passenger side of his poopmobile while his equally crappy wife Bernadette brags, “My AWESOME husband has “ARI: Armed Redneck Insurance!”
Make it rain with N.F.T.s – Newly Formed Turds! Craptocoin mined the old fashioned way! Ask Bern Cacca how.
“Oh boy oh boy oh boy!” Bourbonnais multiplex clerk, fedora-sporting neckbeard and communal narcadoodle, Damien Hurlbutt exclaims when he gets a link to a message bearing the subject “thank you Damien Hurbutt–old soul and tender-heart.” It has arrived from one of his favourite puppeteers on Fakebook, whom he has been stalking, mailing weekly postcards to her home address.
Damien hems and haws, not used to getting the praise to which he feels entitled. He clicks the link, which leads to a “You Are An Idiot” video, complete with Fakebook comments section on the female performer’s page rightfully poking fun at his narcissistic behavior.
Damien rages due to his narcissistic injury, ego deflated to the size of a pea. He throws his computer out the window, hitting an older lady on the head, instantly killing her.
Bored and fearful he will be locked away forever, without a chance for narcissistic supply, Damien hoovers his ex-wife Lori. Ennui gets the best of him: Damien emerges from nothing by false flagging Lori’s social media content, hoping to get her into Fakebook jail. Instead, Damien goes to real jail – Kankakee County jail – as he awaits his trial for manslaughter and stalking.
Damien’s enabler, fellow communal narcadoodle, and fart-enthusiast Bern Cacca posts bail. Damien goes home, assuming he will get the acquittal to which he feels entitled.
Think again.
A bounty hunter is sent out to sniff out Damien; Bern’s transaction failed because she paid in Craptocoin and burned it all…in her fireplace.
“The only thing I like better than mining Craptocoin, is burning it…” Mrs. Cacca says as she cooks her books at the Manteno shack she shares with her husband Peppi.
Damien pursues Bernadette, who is not home, nor at work. Damien heads over to the bog she inhabits, which she uses as a bathtub and and slow-cooker for devouring the living. Unfortunately for fugitive Damien, the sign at Bern’s Bog reads “the bog witch is out.”
Damien gets a “fake news” tip sent to his flip-phone by Pat Splatt that Bern went to Area 51 for a toxic secret flatulence experiment. Keep flames away from butts.
Artist’s rendering of secret experiment room
Damien tries to sneak into Area 51 after taking pictures of the “Photography Prohibited” Area 51 “No Trespassing” sign.
Damien heads toward the once-secret base nicknamed “Dreamland” and gets rightfully arrested by the military police.
The officers, tired of shooting people on sight and patrolling the same remote corner of Nevada, decide to bring Damien in and question him. Damien sits down at a metal table, glances down at the floor, all by his lonesome. Out of seemingly nowhere, a group of five military personnel materialize in the room, all facing the bulbous neckbeard. ”Face to Face” by Daft Punk plays over the public address system, beat-matched into a remix of ”Paris 400” by SebastiAn. Area 51’s DJ really likes French House Music.
“Nice floor tiles you have, M’Lady!” Damien smirks, hoping to impress the leader with his negative humor.
Obviously not impressed, the Area 51 security team haul Mr. Hurlbutt into a solitary cell in the top-secret experimentation wing, where human and extraterrestrial scientists work to develop a “super-soldier” performing experiments like turning humans into giant spiders and installing amplifiers into cyborgs to blast Katy Scary music to scare away terrorists.
Damien makes his one phone call to Pat Splatt, asking where Bernadette had gone.
On one cold Manteno day of many back in 1989, young bog witch Bernadette thought it would be cute to annoy her teacher one too many times by drawing all over the inside of her math book, so the teacher scolded her.
“Stop drawing in your math textbook!” Mrs. Dickinson commanded.
“Okay, I’ll just draw on the outside cover instead!” Bernadette smirked before getting sent to the principal’s office.
Manteno’s very own bog witch, entramanure and communal narcadoodle Bernadette M Cacca loves her Turd Machines so much, she mounted one on each wall and windowsill.
“Gotta get rid of that Gothic Diana Ross!” — Bernadette Moran Cacca, Manteno
She even guards her basement turd vault, full of craptocoins and Newly Formed Turds (N.F.T.s) with one Turd Machine Deluxe on each side.
In this corner: The Manteno Wonder, Communal Narcadoodle and Portapotty Entamanure Bernadette Cacca! In the other corner: a useless real-estate scammer! It’s a battle of nitwits to try and waste each others’ time!
Backside: When communal #narc and #Manteno Optimal Club president #Bernadette Moran Cacca graduated high school she wanted to be a wrestler. When her wrestling career as the Manteno Wonder failed, she joined the army. She kept getting put on poop burning duty and got a dishonorable discharge…from her butt.
Bernadette was in such a hurry to become a regular that she tried to run over one of the regulars at the coffeehouse. She wanted to get the runs. Gotta mine that #craptocoin and N.F.T.s: 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.
The petless portapotty princess, part-time bog witch and communal narcadoodle known as Bernadette Moran Cacca struts into the local veterinary clinic looking for new fans, kicks and giggles, since attendance at the Manteno Optimal Club has been dwindling.
“May I help you?” the receptionist Flo says with a smile.
“This may be the most important question I’ll ever ask.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What’s going on with your pet?”
“I have to show you something.” Bernadette hands Mary a flyer.
“Why are you supporting a Bradley business. Are you coming to Bradley?”
“No. If you read the sign, we’re in Manteno, we’re a vet clinic. We treat sick animals and give them routine care.”
“Why are you helping a dog group then?”
“We help a different rescue every month.”
“I need more information.”
“Read the sign, make an appointment, call the groomer. We just put the sign up to help the business out plus the dog charity.”
“Why is it in Bradley? It’s so far away. You’re a Manteno group.”
“We serve all of Kankakee County.”
“You should help all animals, not just dogs. Humans too. Even extraterrestrials. You shouldn’t exclude humans from animal spaces! Make like a tree and go get me the manager!”
“She’s busy.”
“You’re so stupid. I just had a dementia test and I aced it! I had a CAT scan and it was perfect! You’re a low IQ. You take the test, see how you do, then you go get some tigers, elephants, giraffes…See, I know my animals!”
“What a jackass…” customer Jen says softly as she cuddles her cat, chortles at Bernadette’s word salad.
“I’m not a donkey I’m a human! What are you looking at? Hello!”
Bernadette doesn’t get her way, so she just drags her feet across the floor then stares at the wall.
Manager Trish Cobb, better known as Gothic Diana Ross, walks out to help de-escalate the unnecessary monkeying around which seemingly emerged from nowhere at all — just Bernadette’s bum.
“I got a perfect mark-up which you would be incapable of doo-doo-doing. You need to get your marks up! You need to get your marks up!”
“Goodbye Barney!
“It’s Bernie!”
“Who?”
“You know me.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m your neighbor, Manteno’s very best do-gooder of charity. I raised $1000 for—“
“I’ll take first name and last name for $1000, Alex.”
“Bernadette Cacca!”
“A little louder please. For the camera.” Gothic Diana cups her ear.
“I’M BERNADETTE MORAN CACCA!” Bern’s stinky breath blows into Diana’s face, right before Bernadette’s own face turns beet red from getting caught, not from realizing she had just caused a scene for no good reason whatsoever, butt of course.
“Goodbye! You, and you and you guys too!” Bernadette sternly screams as storms out the door, to go start trouble somewhere else. Like a dog licking its nads, she does it because she can.
MoronicArts 
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