Sybil Kibble takes out the trash after Damien stalks her.
Dale Francis Davis moved to Kankakee, IL from Snowflake, AZ to seek work after his relationship with Juli-Irma went sour.
His two year engagement with his dear poopiehead, and fellow Snowflake, Juli-Irma went downhill rather quickly when Miss Juli figured out dear Dale’s tablet and mobile telephone password, “password.” In a fit of jealous rage, she discovered that he had one contact other than his mother and his buddies from the town saloon, a Sybil Kibble, and blocked her promptly.
She then destroyed both devices by throwing them in the toilet, perplexed why they did not go down the bowl when she flushed.
A few days later, Dale hit the road to interview for his new position as a Collections Representative at Collections Recovery Associates (CRASS) in Kankakee, IL. He pulled out his new phone and confirmed the time. Today was the first day of the rest of his life.
Dale thanked Ms. Sybil Kibble for the offer, shook her hand and gladly accepted the job.
They know what they want, and they want it right now!
Call D. U. Hurlbutt at 500-FART-NOW
We hope your day is Number One!
Kankakee Elvis impersonator and useless narcissist Robbie Hurlbutt thinks these drawings will look groovy in his washroom.
Kankakee Elvis impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt — who thinks he is really Elvis — thinks he is number one in the shower. Don’t lock him in.
Today we celebrate our three-year Moroniversary!
Thank you for reading, following and sharing the woes of these idiots.
The Gang at MoronicArts
Kankakee slumlord and Vaudeville clown Madeline Topolla-Teirant struts into a busy Buckstars hoping to score some free java. “Welcome to Buckstars, what can I get started?” the friendly coffee clerk in the green apron asks a towering 5’10”, 300 pound Madeline. “I don’t have time to wait. You guys are horrible people, childish little girls and boys. Get my drink right and make it fast or I am going to go to the cafe down the street.”
“Okay, what would you like?” the barista replies with a smile.
“Get me a pink drink and make it fast. Not the orange drink like you screwed up last time.”
The barista cashes out Madeline; the bulbous clown and slum manager walks off to the side, away from the long line of thirsty customers.
Regular customer Kitty Bortolotti, the tall, curly haired, mixed-race beauty with the star earrings is next in line.
“Can I speak to the manager?” a confident Kitty asks with her hands on her hips.
Kitty winks at the team leader. “I don’t need anything, I just want to help you. Don’t let your staff be afraid of certain customers who try and intimidate your staff, if you know what I mean. I have experience; she’s all talk.”
“Customers like you are the best,” the supervisor says to Kitty.
“Glad to help.”
The two exchange smiles and a nod, then Kitty orders a drink alongside her best friend.
Kitty waits patiently for her drinks, meanwhile an obviously agitated Madeline storms over to the counter and screams at the barista, who has better things to do than listen to a screaming Madeline.
Kitty’s drinks come back. “We made you an extra one because we love great customers like you.”
“Awww thanks! You guys are the best.” Kitty takes a bill from her lime-green wallet and places it in the tip jar.
Kitty lifts the cup carrier, walks off to the side and chats with her best friend forever, Lana “LTL” Tolstoy Levitsky.
A bunch of names are called out: “LaWanda! Marigold! Damien!” but not Madeline’s. The happy customers grab their cups of joy and walk out the door.
Madeline turns to Abby and asks “What drink is that?”
A confused Abby looks over to Madeline.
“A pink one.”
“Oh I thought you had mine, we got the same thing.”
“Yeah sure.” Abby gives Madeline a dirty look and walks out the door.
“I hope they’re not clownin’ around with my drink!” Madeline thinks aloud.
“We made it just how you wanted it,” The barista says with a smile.
Madeline takes a sip and then reads the cup: “MADWOMAN”.
The entire cafe full of customers starts giggling and the room roars with laughter.
Madwoman storms out the cafe and walks behind the strip mall, where she is again greeted by the site of her best friends, the cafe dumpsters.
“This song needs more farty sounds.”
“Isn’t it groovy?” Kankakee Elvis impersonator and wannabe ladies’ man Robbie asks his neckbeard brother Damien.
“I only like the fart parts.”