Tag: one minute read

Basically basic Sybil Kibble’s home base.

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Basic bill-collector babe Sybil Kibble lives/laughs/loves to fill her Kankakee home with the most boring decor.

Is that a lighthouse or are you just happy to see me? Tour her wannabe McMansion to see her nautical crap — err, you could have done that in the past. She got so bored of it all, she gifted gave it to her mother JoAnn who lives in her basement. JoAnn and her squirrels plays rocket-ship with the pointy wooden trinkety things.

And then there is this Santa Elvis she permanently borrowed from her next-door neighbor and best friend PJ Hurlbutt. Rumor has it, her son Robbie Hurlbutt had got it after it fell off the back of a truck.

Sybil keeps it out all year because she is too lazy to put it away.

“Why take down all my Christmas stuff when Imma just gon’ have to done put it up again next year?”
— Sybil Katrina Kibble, Kankakee

No Dumping.

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“Don’t you see the sign?” Sybil Kibble asks shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla Moran after she had taken a massive dump all over the tree branch, spilling onto the Manteno strip mall pavement.

“I don’t give a hoot, I pollute!” Carla squawks back at Sybil who has run for the hills, clapping back “clean up after yourself!” at the dirty birdy and her pile of giant turdies.

Sonya-Daemon wants a change o’fart.

~ Jen ~ 5 Comments

Hell, Inc. CEO Satan temporarily banishes the daemon — once known as Midwestern slumlord Sonya Mare Smith Moran — to the land of the living, because she refused to stop stalking him in his basement C-Suite. He’s tired of hearing the shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture squawking and pecking at his door.

The former president of The Poopy Groupies pays her favorite singer a visit hoping to sing a stinky doo-doo-et, however Bernadette Cacca has once again fallen asleep on the toilet while pooping. Despite her best efforts to make a direct-to-dream connection, Sonya fails to reach her subject because she is too busy farting in her sleep.

Ms. Moran then curses her former tenants who had reported her for false lease violations (cha-cha-cha), using every word in the book, however they all tune her out because the community room television is volume has been turned up to accommodate the hard-of-hearing. Duh.

Making one last ditch to stir up trouble, Sonya-Daemon appears at Sybil Kibble’s house, however she is not home, so Sonya instead cuts off her mother’s internet connection, tapping her toes anticipating a reaction.

“The web has tossed its darned cookies again,” JoAnn Kissane Kibble thinks aloud. “CeeCee, did you throw some nuts into the router again?” JoAnn asks her squirrel-buddy.

After clearing the router of chocolate chips and nuts, she switches her phone from a wi-fi connection to a cellular one, and types on Fakebook: “I can’t get online because the internet is down.” Then she starts crushing candy with her phone.

After Sonya-Daemon has used up her most recent free hall pass to planet Earth, she gets sucked back into the underworld.

“Hey Boss, can you make me 10 feet tall? I wanna be 10 feet tall! I wanna be 10 feet tall, just like I was when I sold you my soul!” the nitwit screams as she repeatedly jumps up and down, like a toddler who lost a kickball.

“I’ve tried startling people, I’ve tried inhabiting their dreams, stealing their cookies, nothing. Nobody even notices me!”

“Have you tried just shutting up?” Satan replies…“Now back to the call center. We need 1000 surveys completed every hour…”

“Woo-hoo!” Sonya un-ironically shrieks as she runs to her new cubicle in Hell, Inc.

Robbie Hurlbutt’s a hunkahunka burnin’ up!

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Kankakee pharmacy clerk, narcadoodle and Elvis impersonator Robert Roy Gary Hurlbutt is surprised to see his ex-girlfriend Bernadette Moran Cacca.

“I dreamt I was living in a real-life Soylent Green. The Pope was the first one to sacrifice himself for Soylent Industries. Instead of going to the Suicide-Centre, he and others slid down a well, with a 50/50 chance of living forever or getting turned into Soylent Green.”

“Groovy! What did the cannibal do after he dumped his girlfriend?”

“I dunno babe, what?”

“He wiped his butt.”

“That’s so funny money honey.”

“I know. I hit rock bottom. You are both beautiful on the outside and the inside. Hell, maybe even your
intestines are pretty.”

“No, Robbie — YOU!:

This John is missing his Yoko. I have a feeling that something very special is about to happen, Bernadette.”

“Let’s go back to your place and we’ll make beautiful music together!”

Robbie and Bernadette hold hands, the two narcompoops go bouncing down the street together, a match made in Hades.

“Elvis!” A stranger yells from his car.

“I’m a hunka hunka burning love!”

The pair get together, have some NettFixx and chill.

The next day, Robbie wakes up to the sound of muffled shuffling. Bernadette is bent over, her poopybutt wiggling in the air as she searches through Robbie’s massive hoard of boxes.

“Found ’em!” Bernadette exclaims.

Bernie grabs a couple of record albums, three DVDs and a fedora.

“I got my things back. Gotta run.”

“What? We just got started.”

“And now I’m finishing what you started.”

Bernadette puts the fedora on her head and carries the media in a large sack toward the door.

“You stole these things from me and now I’ve got them back! Hope you find what you’re looking for!”

Bernadette exits Robbie’s Kankakee apartment and drives her poopmobile back to her Manteno home on Kant Street, hugs her half-drunken husband Peppi, then runs upstairs to take a dump.

A cure for willful ignorance

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Daily writing prompt
What’s something you’d love to see in the future, but know you probably won’t live to witness?
View all responses

As my Aunty Sochelle has put it, this planet needs a cure for this disease called “Stupid by Choice.”

Common names for this affliction are “willful ignorance” and “narcadoodle.”

For now, I just choose to write about that crap and hopefully bring non-ignoramuses some laughs.

Cast of Characters

Robbie Hurlbutt Summons a Single Woman With a Waluigi Board

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Kankakee pharmacy clerk, vulnerable narcissist and Elvis impersonator Robert Roy Gary Hurlbutt uses a Waluigi board to summon a single woman while hanging out at his mother PJ’s house. Minutes later, someone walks in.

“I forgot my phone, don’t know where I would be without it,” says next-door-neighbor JoAnn Kissane Kibble, mother of PJ’s best friend, 65-year-old Sybil Kibble.

Violated.

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Hear this story here:

Part 1: https://moronicarts.com/2024/11/24/get-lost-sonya/

“Hey Sonya, we’re having you for supper! Come with us!” Area 51 Prinicpal Instigator and Pain Tolerance Department Manager Dr. Jen Jenner tells the shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture and malignant narcadoodle Sonya Marie Smith Moran, who has been pecking back and forth with her cellmate, narc of the communal kind Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt.

“Hot Dawg!”

“No wieners or winners, just you for supper. Sonya, your hair is a rat’s nest. Violation! Clean your cage, there are bird turds everywhere, even in your water dish! Violation!”

“What? MY cage? YOU put me here!”


“Yes, this is your home now and you’re coming with us!”

“Knock it off!” Sonya says to the raptor-captors at Area 51.

“We can smell your bum-waste clear cross the High Desert. Violation! You freeloaders trash this place that your tax dollars pay for! Violation! Cha-cha-cha. Violation! Cha-cha-cha.” the guards scold the Midwestern scumlord and malignant narcissist as they read from the Code of Federal Regulations.

Sonya hisses at the guards surrounding Dr. Jenner, flaps her wings, taking a defensive stand.

“Violation! Haha. Alright, imma carve this turkey!”

The guards rush toward Ms. Moran, with chainsaw in tow, and yank the caged lady from her cell.

“Oh yum. I can’t wait for turkey dinner. I’ve had nothing but corn and corn-derivatives since I got here two years ago,” says her cellmate and fellow narcadoodle Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt, as he rubs his hands together. “Oh boy, oh boy, oh b–“
“I’m a dang vulture, not a turkey, you stupid neckbeard!” Sonya screams as she gets hauled away to a deep, dark crevice hidden within the bowels of the dry lake known as Groom.

TO BE CONTINUED

Golden Moron Award: Cheryl the 30-year-old toddler

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This week’s Golden Moron Award is bestowed upon a rather passive-aggressive, windbag, trailer-trash joke of a neighbor who refuses to behave. Instead of learning from her booboos after she was reported yet again for waking people up in the middle of the night with her loud music choices, she chose to act like a moron again. She’s not very bright.

Metal music replaced with children’s music due to Kopywrong goons (and for giggles):

Awww poor Cheryl, you petulant child had a conniption. It sucks to be you, all stuck and stupid. Here, have an award. Now set the world on fire! Yeee-haw, get ’em Hoss and your kissin’ cousins too! GOBBLESSSSSS!

The Moroniverse

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What place in the world do you never want to visit? Why?
View all responses

Who would want to hang out with this band of fools?

Unlike the real Midwest, where I had lived for five-and-a-half-years, this fictional version is kind of like the dystopian Little Dark Age we’re living in — but goofier.

Although I must say, I would love to hang out with Gothic Diana Ross & The Midnight Supremes. Can you blame me?

Toiley & Friends Join Bernadette…

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Every flick is someone’s favorite. MoronicArts.com resident entramanure Bernadette M Cacca watches animals dropping dookie in her favorite film of all time, “The Wonderful World of Dung” along with new friends she had dropped off at the pool, Toiley T Paper, Plungy and Loofah.