Kankakee bill-collector and dog-chow diner Sybil Katrina Kibble had left her lawn sprinkler spit-spit-spitting, too lazy to care about water conservation, while she drove her Chrysler LeBaron all the way to Chillicothe to buy herself a sit-down lawnmower right before the race. Sybil insisted on winning the Annual Lawnmower Race.
Sadly, silly-billy Sybil lost the lawnmower race because she was too loopy from inhaling helium.
Too lazy to drive, Sybil wished to hang glide back home to Kankakee. However, she could not fly because she was too scared. This idea never got off the ground.
Meanwhile, Sybil’s spit machine went awry, flooding her entire lawn and that of neighbor Kitty Bee’s too!
Adding insult to injury, Sybil then she got chased by a swarm of angry kitties and bees! Poor Sybil.
She then left compete in Fire Truck racing with her Ma JoAnn! Ooh, what fun!!!
“Story time with Gothic Diana Ross & The Midnight Supremes? At the Manteno Library? I would say that a trip to Manteno is not complete without spending a few hours at the Manteno Optimal Club with Bernadette Cacca! Hmmpf!”
“Why don’t you start your own book club, honey?” Shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Sonya Moran asks her communal narcadoodle, bog-witch niece Bernadette.
“You’re the best!”
“Butt first, a trip to Bucketheads.”
“Why are you going to a hardware store?”
“It’s my own personal prop department!”
“Hot dawg!”
Bernadette pinches a massive loaf upstairs in the washroom while tapping away at her smell phone to announce yet-another-gig her aunt Sonya got her. Ahhh, the stench of nepotism.
BOOK CLUB NIGHT, TUES with yours truly! Join me at @MantenoOptimalClub TONIGHT, AUGUST 18, 9:30pm-3am. What will I read? It’s a surprise! It’s the hottest new event in Kankakee County!
“I never drank coffee while I was in college. I drank pop,” Gothic Diana Ross complains to the Buckstars staff about her coffee again.
“What’s this crap? A port-a-potty made out of poop? Do you drop dookie in it, on it, or next to it?” Diana scrolls through her Fakebook feed as she waits for her iced caramel latte to get re-made.
“She’s no Bansky…” Gothic Flo quips.
“I know, we should crash her gig. Maybe we can heckle her or something,” Gothic Mary giggles.
“Well, there is this card game…ooops. Nope, we’re not old enough,” Diana laughs as she reads the community events.
“Oh darn.” The dark gothic beauties share a laugh and drive away from their Gothic Victorian home in their black 1988 Chrysler Conquest TSi.
The Poopy Groupies surround Mrs. Cacca and shower her with a gush of superlatives at the Manteno Optimal Club:
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to Illinois!”
“You make me feel like a star, Bern!”
“It’s the Manteno icon herself! You should be beatified!”
Queen Bernadette rolls out her porcelain throne and makes an announcement:
“Today, I’m here on a campaign to promote regularity!”
The portapotty empress sits on her toilet which she just bought from Bucketheads Hardware and begins to sing from a book:
“Being regular is important to me, and I hope it is EQUALLY important to my regulars. I love my Poopy Groupies! Nooowwww–baaaaaack–toooooo-the—booooooooooook!”
The Poopy Groupies hoot, holler and catcall. Yes the cat-calling is sexist but the queen of the porcelain throne does not care what kind of attention she gets, as long as she gets it and she is the center of attention. After all, she feels entitled to it since she does gigs like these for charity.
The cheering crowd of Bernadette bootlickers is cut like a knife from a few voices in the crowd.
“Why are you pooping in public?”
“Oh honey, I am not really pooping. See look, all golf balls!”
The crowd roars with laughter.
The Midnight Supremes join in on a tune of their own:
“You can’t hurry death You just have to wait. Charon works on his own time, No matter what prayers you say.”
Upset about getting upstaged, Bernadette throws a fit:
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yeah, an unruly citizen who is obsessed with pooping!”
Awkward silence fills the hall of the Manteno Optimal Club. Eyes roll. People begin to chortle.
“I am reprising my role from the Human Body Odor EXCLUSIVE show, “Dropping the Deuce.”
A voice emerges from the crowd.
“Hey, I have a gift for ya Bernadette!”
Sybil Kibble hands Bernadette a box and walks away as fast she can. Happy for the distraction, Mrs Cacca opens her gift. “Is this for meeee? Oh you are the best.”
Sybil Kibble escapes Bern’s word-salad diatribe in her trusty Chrysler LeBaron as do the Midnight Supremes in their sleek sportscar.
Bernadette continues to sing and ramble like the moron that she is, as she watches her mug on the community FartTV, ignoring the confused crowd leaving her stupid book club: “Late last night when the moon green, around the corner came a turd machine…shots were fired, a scream was heard…Join me here next week as I livestream again…oh dear.”
Kankakee, Illinois’ number one Elvis impersonator, Wally Green’s drugstore clerk and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt has a huge crush on Midnight Supremes lead singer Gothic Diana Ross who isn’t remotely attracted to him, plus she has a boyfriend. He wants to make a huge impression on her because he does not understand the word “no.”
She has a gig coming up soon and he is scheming to find a way to connive his boss, store owner Wally Green into letting him hang up her show poster at work to promote her music as he thinks it will somehow make her like him.
”Hey Robbie, have a look at these paper towels I invented just for my store: Half the size, twice the cost. All the frustration when you go to rip off a sheet, thanks to me!” boasts a balding, squat, rotund Wally Green as he tips his fishing cap.
“I know, boss, let’s put them on a groovy display table near the front of the store so the suckers — I mean customers — will think they are getting them on sale.”
“Great idea! I am glad I thought of it!” Wally exclaims with glee, throwing his stubby arms into the air.
“Well…now that I, boss, thought of such a splendid idea, I have a favor to ask. This band is really a gas and I want to hang up their poster for their upcoming show at the store,” Robbie says to his superior with bedroom eyes, dreaming of Miss Gothic Diana Ross, the only Boss he could ever want.
“Naw. Get back to work. I need you to make production metrics this time. Start selling people some pills they don’t need.”
Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Lead Debt Collector Sybil Kibble comes into Wally Green’s Drugstore to buy an iced coffee and a bag of dog biscuits for lunch as she forgot hers at home.
“Ehh. Out of order again. Must be that half ply toilet paper,” Sybil thinks out loud.
“The washroom is on the blink?” Robbie asks, aghast.
“Yeah and I am in a hurry!” Sybil shouts as she makes her way over toward the men’s room.
“Do not go in there!” Robbie commands Sybil.
Sybil walks by Gothic Diana Ross in the men’s room, who is looking in the mirror, applying her jet-black eyeliner. She pinches a huge loaf in the stall next to Wally Green, who is busy whizzing away in the urinal. Sybil flushes but does not clean up the mess on the seat, flinging the door wide open with her arm. She makes a beeline for the sink and spots Diana sarcastically chortling away at the Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes poster on washroom wall.
A befuddled Robbie struts into the men’s room.
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME IN HERE!” Robbie shouts at the women. “THIS IS THE MEN’S ROOM.”
“Get back to work, Robbie, the ladies’ room is closed. Take down this poster while you are at it and apologize to our customers.” Wally Green tells his employee Robbie.
“I am sorry IF I offended you.” Robbie smirks.
“Get lost!” Diana and Sybil chant in unison at his non-apology as they leave the bathroom.
Sybil buys her lunch and drives back to work.
Wally sells loads of paper towels and Robbie is put on temporary janitorial duty until he improves his customer service skills. But don’t lock him in the bathroom. He thinks he is Elvis.
Owner of Schneissder’s Sewer Service, Manteno moron, sociopath and zombie Gregory Albert Schneissder thinks his crap does not stink.
This 62 year old fartknocker sports a head full of salt and pepper hair, usually covered up by a ball cap. His eyes glow red and he eats brains for dinner.
Gregory is Chronic; paranoid people will steal his stash, Greg flashes his dime-bag full of perfectly cultivated buds on the bus when he is spaced out on coke he snorted while coming down off a weed high. Yes, he is that dumb.
This Miami Dolphenergans fan gate-keeps in Fakebook groups. Greg brags about his biggest life achievement, having seen someone in 1991 going down the road who owned one. The one-and-only 1988 Chrysler Conquest – just like the one Gothic Diana Ross drives – Greg witnessed the most important event in his life and tells everybody about it.
Undead Greg stopped driving due to DUIs; he lost his license before the slow-burn-virus took over his undead corpse. Now he can only watch people going down the road who own one. He is butthurt because he no longer can legally hunt down the living driving his Ford imbecile machine, covered in obnoxious decals, bearing wheels way too large for the body.
Ableist as it gets, Greg audibly harasses disabled folks on the bus, stalking them in cafés. He thinks they should work and accuses every disabled young person of “faking it” and tag teams with his BFF Pris Dixon to bully strangers since he is a scared wuss with no life.
Bern Cacca’s biggest fan, Greg made a BernCacca Fans facebook account.
He desperately needs a hobby (besides devouring the living). Manteno residents hope he gets one soon.
Junk email broker, failed film student and nextdoor sociopath Pat Oswald Splatt ventured over to the Kankakee County Spam convention with high hopes to rake in new customers to rip off bombarding their inboxes with unsolicited commercial crap for fun and profits.
Sadly, Pat was disappointed to instead find Damien Hurlbutt, Sybil Kibble and her mom JK along along with people actually having fun celebrating canned lunchmeat.
Maybe the self-proclaimed master-marketer should have read the event advertisement more carefully.
Kankakee pyramid schemer Doris Krabalsky and Bourbonnais communal narc-a-doodle Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt both arrive at Hell’s in-processing department at the same time.
“Sign the register” says Hell’s in-processing clerk and former Medical Office Assistant, Lucy Furr, who was notorious for bullying her roommate on their college trip to Italy. Meanwhile, Doris and Damien try to take over.
After yet another long week calling up strangers at work, patients in hospitals and people just trying to cook supper for their families, Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble is feeling stressed and irritated. She works as the team leader collecting dubious debt for Kankakee’s most shady debt-collector Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS), and she’s tired of people hanging up on her.
“Out of dog-food again! Dang, I just bought some at Schmucks! How did I eat all those Alpo cans so fast? They must be making them smaller now.”
Needing someone with whom to vent, Miss Kibble goes over to visit her best friend and next-door neighbor, Mrs. Pearl Jo “PJ” Hulbutt who is busy meditating. Sybil barges right in and startles PJ who nearly bangs her head on the table, then tells her to “calm down!”
“Ah my boys have not come around lately. They don’t appreciate their mother and all I do for them! Have you seen that Kitty Bee lady? Her hair is pink now!”
PJ rambles on complaining about person after another. “Have you talked to your father?”
“I stopped talking to him years ago. You ask me that every time I come over. Why?”
“My father was not so nice. It says in the good book we should forgive people and pray for them to change.”
“He’s dead. His new wife was just as abusive, I hear she has an extra room. Why don’t you call her up? I am sure she would like the company. She’ll probably ask all kinds of questions about me! Go up to Chicago and spend a month or two to see what it’s like. Just call her after I leave.”
“No need to go overboard with your remarks. They are entitled to their beliefs as well. As a person with a daemon latched onto her body at the age of two that never leaves me alone, I understand fear and misunderstanding. I’ve been judged for my demeanor and nosey words my entire childhood but I still care and help others. I define me not other people.”
Livid, Sybil Kibble stomps back to her home, and eats her last dog bone; much tastier than the word-salad her neighbor had spit out. Meanwhile, PJ hops on a bus to find more people to annoy:
“Why are all these people getting at the bus at once?” PJ Hurlbutt asks aloud to a bus full of strangers, looking around for someone that cares. An enquiring mind wants to know. PJ repeats her nosey nonsense and adds more crap to her routine. “Look at that lady with the green hair. Does she know those tattoos are permanent?”
“I’ll tell the mayor,” Dorian James deadpans, making a cheeky grin while adoring his boyfriend Ant’s half-sleeve.
Sybil calls a bunch of friends, hoping to hang out.
Pyramid-scheme-peddlers Doris and Leona Krabalsky’s phones go straight to voicemail.
Sybil drives her white Chrysler LeBaron to investigate why people are ignoring her calls and texts.
Slowing down through the I-57 underpass, she seeks the Kankakee troll Leona. Nope, she’s not home.
Out of desperation, Ms. Kibble calls her hairdresser Lila Croule at her home-based salon, even though it’s a week too soon to get her face-frame cut, but sorry; more voicemail jail.
Sybil continues North toward Peotone to find her sharp-tongued stylist Lila Croule, hoping to trade barbs about moronic customers. After she parks her reliable box-mobile, she rings the doorbell at Lila’s front door. No answer. The RRRRRRGH of the lawn tractor stops and Sybil spots Lila trimming the edges of the grass using her $1000.00 hair shears, completely tuning out Ms. Kibble.
“I hope these folks don’t visit my grave one day, since they don’t bother me while I’m alive! Hmmpf.”
As she drives back home to Kankakee, Sybil sees her subordinate Dale Davis jogging on the sidewalk, beeping his watch repeatedly. Dale waves to Sybil and beckons her to come hither so he can confess her love, and she just drives on by. Her stomach turns. She then drives to Major’s Supermarket to buy her favorite meals: buys 50 cans of Alpo, with which she drowns her worries at home, glad to be away from the rest of the Moroniverse.
“Since that party last week in the break room set the sprinkler system off, the ventilation system is all jacked up. We need to do some work ‘round here and move some people”, CRASS Maintenance Manager Mikey Philips tells Collections Team Lead Sybil Kibble.
Head-pounding bangs and fart-like drills are heard, making it hard to get calls made. A smoke-like, horse-manure stench emerges from a cubicle near Sybil’s. Sybil gets up to investigate.
“Smokey? Why are you smoking? Go outside. I do not want to smell that.”
“Oh, they moved me due to the construction going on. I sit near you now. Nice boots, Ms. Kibble!”
“Get on the phones and put your butt out now!”
Sybil walks away and reads the posted sign: “CONSTRUTION – WATCH YOU’RE STEP”
“Yeah, they construe things around here: spelling and grammar!” Sybil wisecracks and steps back to her cube.
Sybil calls a few debtors and logs off the autodialer. The poopy stench continues to waft her way. Sybil clogs her way over to Smokey again.
“Smokey? You have not made a single call!”
“Oh, just one more puff!”
“Get to work! This is a verbal warning!” Sybil sternly tells Smokey.
Sybil grimaces at the loud pounding and drilling, as well as the tobacco clouds eminating from Smokey’s cube. She logs onto her autodialer and collects more debts from her clients’ numbers.
After a particularly stressful escalated call, Sybil logs off the phones and puts her head down. Tired and hangry, she smells the crappy smoke. “I bet she is still horsing around.”
Sybil approaches Smokey, who is slouched down in her chair, her ear in her mobile phone. She is clearly not calling her debtors!
“That’s the witch. Blonde hair, reading glasses, black and white outfit with heeled boots.”
“Come into my office, NOW!” Sybil orders Smokey.
“No! I do what I want!” Smokey shouts at Sybil and continues her mobile phone conversation.
Sybil storms over to her cube to devise a plan.
Smokey leaves for lunch, and to buy more cigarettes, of course.
Sybil goes to Smokey’s cube and takes her ashtrays, goes out back and tosses them into the dumpster. She thoroughly checks her cubicle for any other ashtrays. Sybil then takes her trashcan and moves it to her own cubicle, stopping to dump any butts onto Smokey’s desk. “Since she is not doing any work, she does not need this, hahaha.” Sybil hides the trashcan behind her desk. Sybil then takes all the cups out of the break room and hides them in her cubicle, in case Smokey wants to use them for her butts.
Smokey returns for “work” and plops her bum down in her chair. “Dang, where my ashtray go?”
Smokey begins to pace around the office. She looks up and down the office for an ashtray.
“Dale,handsome fella, got an ashtray?”
“Nope. Do some work.”
“Linda, got an ashtray, my sweet friend?”
“No!”
“Mikey! Hey my cool dude! Got an ashtray?”
“I am trying to do some work here.”
Smokey spends the entire day pacing around the office bothering people.
“Hey Smokey!”
“Mr. Avelli! Oh, Mack, you look so handsome! Hey, do you have a—“
“Yes, I have your termination papers right here. Now go clean out your desk. You’re fired. You have thirty minutes to gather your belongings. We will mail your final paycheck, minus today’s payday as you did not do any work.”
“Man, that cigarette smoke smells like horse manure! I am getting sick to my stomach!” How does she get away with it? I keep reporting Smokey Ashe to security and she keeps on smoking in her cubicle. I feel like I am going to heave!” an upset CRASS, LLC bill collector Dale Davis tells his team leader, Sybil Kibble in their Kankakee office.
“There is nothing I can do. I do not want to get in the middle.” Sybil tells Dale.
Dale tromps over angrily to Smokey’s workstation.
“Smokey, why don’t you go outside and smoke? The smell is making me sick!” Dale yells at Smokey.
“What are you going to do about it?” Smokey snarkily asks.
“Just go outside with that crap.”
“Let’s take it outside. I will fight you now.”
“Grow up. You are so childish. I am calling security to report your threats.” Dale tells Smokey.
Dale calls Low Cost Security, or L-C, CRASS’s security contractor to report Smokey’s threats. Of course, his call goes straight to voicemail. Dale leaves a detailed message.
Dale never gets a return call so he heads to Mikey Philips, Building Manager.
“Yes?”
“I need help with something important.” Dale tells Mike Philips.
“I am very busy.”
I need to report a security violation.
“Did you call security?” Mike asks, nose buried in his PC.
“Yes, call went to voicemail. Smokey Ashe threatened me after I asked her to stop smoking inside.”
“Nothing I can do.”
“So what are you going to about Ms. Ashe smoking in her cube? It is making me physically ill.” Dale asks.
“I see nothing in the security logs from L-C.”
Mikey moves the Queen of Hearts to the top pile. “I am winning!” he says with a grin.
“What?”
“Oh, I am using my peripheral dexterity enhancement tool. This on the job training application is designed specially for the mouse,” Mikey explains.
“Uh-huh.”
Smokey butts into Mikey’s office. “Are you coming to the baby shower?” Smokey asks with a grin.
“No, I have a sock drawer to rearrange.”
“Dale, my handsome buddy?” Smokey places her hand on his shoulder.
“No, I have to go home and clip my toenails. Busy night.”
Smokey goes to Sybil Kibble’s supervisor cube and interrupts her.
“Hey there, my lovely lady! How about coming to my baby shower tonight! It is for my granddaughter! There will be games!”
“No thanks, I am looking forward to my Alpo tonight.” Sybil logs on the phones.
Smokey walks over to Tara Bull’s manager suite.
“Hey Tara! You look great!”
“Go back to work, Smokey. Not interested.”
It is 5:00 PM. Smokey, her daughter and granddaughter are gathered in the break room, all decorated in yellow, pink and blue. Smokey is puffing away, wondering where her coworkers are.
“How many people did you invite?” Smokey’s daughter asks.
“The entire company.”
Two hours pass by. Nobody shows. Dale drives by CRASS and pulls in.
“Oh hey there my dapper Dale! You remembered!”
“Yeah, my watch. I cannot believe I left it at work.” Dale dons his watch and gets into his pickup truck, pulls out the parking lot and heads home.
“I cannot believe nobody showed” Smokey says as she fills the air with her stinky smoke.
“AAAAAAANT! AAAAAAANT!”
“What’s that?” Smokey’s grandaughter asks.
“That’s the fire alarm.”
The fire trucks’ sirens are heard in the background. Meanwhile the company sprinklers rain down on Smokey and her family, showering the entire party.
Cigar-rolling B-rolls Wally finds oh so interesting.
Sybil Katrina Kibble
“Scooby-Doo: The Movie” Sybil watches for the Scooby Snacks.
JoAnn Kissane Kibble
“The Nut Job” is the favorite of Sybil’s ma JoAnn A/K/A “JK,” since she, Sybil and best friend PJ Hurlbutt love to go out squirrel-watching even though the neighbors think they are a little nuts.
Bernadette Moran Cacca
“The Wonderful World of Dung” Bern Cacca wishes she can see again (and again, and again), because she enjoys dropping a deuce. Her favorite part is watching the elephants pooping and peeing at the same time. Here she sits all broken hearted, tried to buy but only parted because the stupid thing is even not out on DVD.
Peppi Cacca
“Dude, Who Stole My Car?” is the only movie Peppi ever watched, because it’s the only dumb enough for him to understand.
Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt
“Batman Returns” is at the top of this narc-a-doodle neckbeard’s list. Damien feels bad for The Penguin because he identifies with him. He thinks the movie is all about him as he does everything else.
Robbie Roy Gary Hurlbutt
“Bubba Ho-Tep” Robbie Hurlbutt binges on repeat because he thinks he is the reincarnation of Elvis Presley. He leaves the building to watch it because his biggest fear is being locked in the washroom.
Konrad Teirant
“Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room” Kon watches on his smart-watch, so he can find timely recipes to cook the CRASS books.
Judy Avelli
“Scream” has Judi enticed because she has a thing for Ghostface.
Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran
Carla Moran (not to be confused with a different Carla Moran) watches “The Entity” in a recursive loop, when she can’t sleep. Then people tell her it’s all in her head…umm…beak.
Mack E. Avelli
“Battlefield Earth” is the beloved favorite movie of the CRASS chief. He thinks it is the best science fiction movie ever made and that it’s a true story.
MoronicArts 
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