It is that wonderful time of the year. Kankakee bill-collector Sybil Kibble enjoys eating dog food almost as much as she loves bothering strangers probably eating something else to ask for money. To celebrate the things she loves, Sybil decorates her Christmas tree with dog bones with the high hope that Santa brings her money for being a good lil debt collector. Do you think Sybil is on Santa’s good list or naughty list?
“Why don’t you have enough staff in here? I come to your pharmacy here in Kankakee, they say ‘20 minutes.’ Two hours later, my meds are not ready?” the tall, curvy, light-skinned lady with the blue curls asks.
“It has only been 2 minutes” drugstore chain owner and wacky inventor Wally Green gaslights Kitty Bee, one of many ladies who rejected his advances at the local bars and cafés.
“Three people on the sales floor asked me if I needed anything. Yeah, you need more pharmacy staff and fewer sales clerks!” a rightfully upset Kitty tells Wally.
“I’m not about to debate capitalism with you,“ Wally dismisses Kitty’s concerns, logs onto his dating app and begins to think up more useless inventions. Multi-tasking is one of Wally Green’s core values and part of the chain’s Mission Statement, whatever the heck that means.
Kitty goes home and writes up a review on Welp to warn other customers about her bad experience, and tags the Federal Trade Commission, the Illinois Attorney General and the Chicago Tribune.
The Attorney General’s office contacts Kitty, very concerned about Wally’s history of mismanaging his Deerfield-based drugstore chain. They have received multiple complaints from customers, staff and providers.
“I want to have a sit-down with you” the caller from the Illinois Attorney General office says to Wally. Terrified any legal troubles — and potential bad press — might hurt his profits, Wally racks his bird-brain for new ideas to make money. Sales of Toiliots and Mr. Plopsies are down anyway.
“Hey Robbie, design me a new flyer.”
“I can draw a bit but do not know how to design. My high-school classmate and I made a cartoon once.”
“Good. We need a letter to go out yesterday offering all of Illinois our new credit card. It has a 69 per cent UFO, but who cares?”
“Umm, you mean APR, right?”
“Whatever. Just get it done.”
Robbie gets to work. A few hours later, after taking a Number One, this part-time Elvis impersonator and store clerk shows his boss Wally Green his design:
“Perfect. Now get on that mail merge.” Wally walks away from Robbie and goes into his office to check his OKStupid account. “I clink on the lick and not one lovely lady swipes right. Why do nice guys like me finish last?”
“I can hear ya, boss. What the heck is a mail merge? Hello?”
Robbie sighs, goes back to sweeping the floor and then tries to sell folks Wally’s patent-pending Half-Ply Toilet Paper.
Wally Green’s profits sink due even further since the truth came out all over the media about his crappy stores. The “Buy One, Get One Half Off (But Never Free)” sales did not help, either.
Wally goes down to his favorite bar, The Gaslight, and parks his bum at his usual spot. It’s going to be a long night for the dysfunctional Wally.
Deerfield-born ladies’ man, drugstore owner and wacky inventor Wally Green wants all his customers to know he cares. After partnering with corrupted contractor Terry Reynolds of Albion, Indiana, he is doing some “CONSTRUTION” to renovate his stores.
These shopping carts play the brown note when you get within 10 feet of the store’s door, making you crap your pants to punish you for not putting the cart away
404 COUPONS NOT FOUND
These 404 page coupon booklets are designed with only some pages numbered, confusing Wally’s customers on purpose because Wally hopes they will give up and die trying before finding their coupon of choice.
CLICKETY-CLAPPETY INTERCOM MUSIC
Do you like hearing the same 15-second piano loop every time you call Wally Green’s pharmacy? Wally partnered with the same firm who produced every single commercial that ran on television for the past three years to create 30-second loops using only finger snaps, hand-claps and “boom” sounds…the latter lifted from the Queen song “We Will Rock You.” It is the only music more repetitive than that of pop singer John Mayer. Marshall Stacks will be installed outside every store to make sure his neighbors hear it too.
TRAP DOOR CHILD SEATS
In an effort to save the almighty dollar, Wally Green’s is ceasing to repair the child-seat straps in their carts. At random, your coffee, purse or child will get trapped in the cart, or maybe even your fingers! We promise to keep delivering our buy one, get one half off (but never free) sales, and cutting expenses at all costs enables us to keep offering these sales to our beloved customers!
Manteno’s self-proclaimed “giver extraordinaire” who performs accordion covers of pop-tunes to raise money for the photo opportunity, Bernadette Cacca holds a kitschy, Hawaiian-themed shindig to thank her enablers, the Poopy Groupies. She really wants them to know she just loves their continued excellence in bum-kissing and useless-drama creation.
“That’s so bad!” Bernadette says as Peppi leaves the party. “He just came for the food and did not stay. All I do for him! All I do for the world! He just left me here to die alone!”
Manteno communal narcadoodle, port-o-dump proprietor and charity-kazoo-cover-queen Bernadette Cacca wishes she could figure out why her biggest fan, Greg Schneissder, can blast blue flame from his bum when hers always come out yellow and orange. Bern plots revenge on Greg, because, you know she has nothing better to do with her time. Bernadette needs to get a life. Bern gets out her sparkly EyePhone 28 and dials him up. Nobody’s home.
“Why is he so good at farting?” Manteno pretend do-gooder and entramanure Bernadette Cacca asks her husband Peppi upon his return from the half-way house.
“Oh not now, I just showered…” Bog witch Bernadette answers Peppi’s mating call, that same one which had attracted her years ago, while Manteno’s queen of the porcelain throne was bathing in the swamp.
“I dunno…Why don’t you go over and ask him?”
“Just like the last time…” Peppi responds to Bern’s superlative, giving her the stinkeye as he takes his first puff of a skunky joint, one of many to follow, not the first by any means. The Caccas love anything that stinks.
“Oh no, that’s Bernadette. Don’t let her in, she’ll never leave!” The Midnight Supremes shout out the arched window of their dark stone Gothic Victorian home. All Gothic Diana Ross wants to do is cut the grass. Bern peels out the driveway, around the corner and back by the Midnight Supremes house again.
As Bernadette rolls by she, shouts all mockingly “take the pictures” at the Midnight Supremes who are minding their own business taking video of the weather.
“Grow up, you child!” Gothic Flo defends herself against the abuse spewed by spoiled-brat Bernadette.
“Methinks the trolls are crawling out from under their collective bridges and mothers’ basements again,” Gothic Diana Ross addresses her bandmates, The Midnight Supremes.
“Peppi and Bernadette gang up on me like a bunch of schoolyard children. I am 42. I am starting to think that Bern harassed us out of fear that maybe I was videotaping her, because it’s all about her you know? The funny thing is my video was of the rain; it was raining in one spot only. But those spoiled entitled brats it’s all about them you know? Because nobody else deals with the weather here on Earth right?”
“Yes. The rain is there to annoy those morons.” Gothic Flo deadpans.
Bern Cacca peels into her driveway, runs into the bathroom with her smell-phone and replies to a Fakebook post looking for “10 models” to “type yes in the comments.”
“I’m a plus sized model is that okay?” Bern asks Leona Krabalsky.
“Oh yes, we have a special bonus for you,” sister Doris Krabalsky answers Mrs. Cacca’s query.
“Robert Roy Gary Hurlbutt. I never want to see him, again. However, here I am. Mamma and I unload the van containing the remaining items from our broken marriage he demanded back: pooped-on record albums, Elvis dolls, countless cardboard tubes formerly holding paper of the wrapping and toilet kind.” Robbie’s former girlfriend dictates into her phone.
Back at his unit again, Kay feels bad for Robbie’s new source of narcissistic supply.
“I am sorry” Kay whispers into the young lady’s ear, her eyes’ micro-expression meeting in agreement.
“Just put that over there” Robbie says to her mother carrying a heavy box of ratty blankets.
“Where is Heidi?”
“I gave her away,” Robbie speaks of the cat Kay wanted to keep, the poor lil tortie Robbie speaks about as if she were part of the furniture, mere chattel. Robbie walks over to the washroom and leaves the door a-crack. “Don’t lock me in.”
“Ann. I go by Annie.”
“Yeah. I work over at the taco place. I am getting promoted.”
“Congratulations! I am happy for you.”
“It is not much. I got this new name badge which reads “King.”
“I catch your drift. I am thankful for you retail workers.”
Bernadette is running behind to meet The Krabalskys under the I57 underpass for her “modeling.” Extremely impatient, Bern throws a hissy-fit at the Krow-Grrr self-checkout whinging because it doesn’t take CraptoCoin.
“You guys are too woke! I am too good for this! I play all these songs for the Manteno Optimal Club and raise money for them and Ukraine. I wanna talk to the manager! My aunt Sonya knows the owner of this entire plaza!”
“Karen! Karen! Karen!” emerges from the crowd of customers wishing to shop just once sans harassment from the activity-impaired crowd and their ensuing ennui.
“What a dope!” Store clerk Annie King says as she yeets Bern out the door.
“Oh good, I got it! Ha!” Gothic Diana thinks to herself of the exposure captured of her narcissistic neighbor Bernadette Moran Cacca throwing a childish tantrum at the supermarket.
Bernadette meets Kankakee County trolls Doris and Leona Krabalsky under the bridge.
“You need to remove your twitter post about my friend Undead Greg. Especially when you were selfish enough to do what you did and then block him. Because he is the only person who ever farts and that’s all that matters! Look at me, I’m a troll who crawled out from under my bridge because I need to get a hobby and I hate myself. I don’t appreciate the way you treated him about his farts looking prettier than yours. Yeah.”
Gobsmacked, B. M. Cacca’s jaw drops to the floor, realizing she has been duped by people almost as narcissistic as she.
“But if you would like to try our product, we can still get you our special deal.”
“Product? I thought this was a modeling gig.”
“Oh yes, I have these lovely magic beans just for you. They will clean your colon FAST!”
“Will they make me farts turn blue when I light them?”
“Oh yes, they will alright.”
“Sign me up!” Bernadette says to her sisters-in-narcissism as they sell her the overpriced coffee beans. The Krabalskys will do anything for a sale and Bernadette will do anything to brag about her precious farts.