Tag: one minute read

Satan Unveils His New Welcome Sign.

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As Hell’s Chief Operating Officer Satan unveils his newly procured “Welcome to Hell” sign — shown off by visiting intern Gothic Diana Ross — in-processing clerk for the newly damned Lucy Furr looks at her boss with visible dismay.

“Isn’t our new sign just peachy?” Satan asks Lucy as Diana continues to model by it, nearly getting hit a baker’s dozen times by the devil’s not-so-careful use of the pulley system.

“Couldn’t our money be better spent on improving working conditions? Hiring more people? Fixing the toilets?” asks the bully known for her tormenting of an autistic 20-something on their college trip to Italy.

“You have your own heated place for the rest of your life. Try being more thankful for the things you have,” Satan passive-aggressively demands of his clerk while sporting a devilish grin.

Meanwhile, communal narcadoodle Bernadette Cacca is still waiting to poop. All the other washrooms in Hell are closed for maintenance.

Golden Moron Award: Little Miss Fake Worrier From the ‘Burgh.

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Today’s Golden Moron is a real doozy. This dumpster fire had gone from bending over backward saying to a severely depressed person, “Get help. I’m worried about you” to blocking them two days later.

Who brags about working 50 hrs a week and volunteering 30, yet can be found on social media most hours of the day posting about lawd-only-knows-what?

Hmmm…

To the sixty-eight-year-old moron in Pittsburgh who had gone out of her way to passive-aggressively worry about a human being with actual feelings, only to block them, we hereby award you The Golden Moron Award! We would have painted it yellow and black just for you, however, we are way too busy.

We sincerely hope you get caught using Facebook at work – if you even do work — and if you do, you get fired.

Awww, so close to retirement age, only to lose your pension? Sucks to be you.

Happy Thanksgiving from a Real Turkey!

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Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble had her turkey-flavored dog treats. She offered her mother JoAnn some, who declined. Sybil gladly ate her mother’s portion. Yum!

The Midnight Supremes: Stop, In the Name of Death!

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Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes sing a number during their “Stop in the Name of Death” tour. Diana tosses a feather boa into the audience. Her obsessed fan and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt knocks over a bunch of people to try and catch it, only for it to land in the hands of someone else: Robbie’s boss Wally Green.

How Jen Makes MoronicArts

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

“The sillies are manufactured in my brain, roll off the conveyor belt, out my hands and onto the paper.”

PS: “Moron” is the Welsh word for carrot.

PPS: Jen makes MixedMoronicArts, too.

Golden Moron Awards Himself MoronicArts’ Highest Dishonor!

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

Oh Internet stranger, you slay me. The ignorance, it seeps right out your poophole and all over the internet. It’s like art, except you have ripped out a fart, and awarded yourself The Golden Moron Award!

Llongyfarchiadau mawr! (That’s Welsh for “Big congratulations!”)

Indigestion, Upset Stomach, Pie-o-rrhea!

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

“Bernadette, your teeth look awful. If you don’t brush them to my standards, you are going to get Pie-o-rrhea.”

“Peoria?”

“If you DON’T brush and floss 8 times a day, you could get an infection that could give you a heart attack.”

“East or North?”

“I’m only telling you this because I lost all my teeth.” 

“Vultures have no teeth.”

“Don’t talk back to me!” the toothless, shapeshifting, humanoid vulture gaslights her daughter.

Bernadette rips a huge fart and lights it, aims the gas blast toward her evil mother’s face, letting her butt do the talking. She has a bad case of Pyro-hhea.

Gothic Diana Ross Tunes In, Tunes Out the Dropouts on the Bus

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

Life is too short for morons, and Gothic Diana Ross knows it. All she wants to do is ride the bus to go shopping, and leave the driving someone else. Barely catching the bus — and her breath — in this 90-degree Fakeout Summer day in October, the last thing Di needs is a lecture.

“You need to be at the stop when I pull up. I am behind schedule…” the Kankakee bus driver rambles on, blaming his tardiness on his customer again. The bald driver motions toward the slender black beauty, leader of The Midnight Supremes to sit down. She takes off her headphones briefly, asks the driver, “Do I have to pay?”

“You can pay me later.” Diana dons her headset and blasts herself some more Cold Cave.

“You were ten feet from the bus stop sign. You should really listen to my instructions when you board the bus…” the driver continues his tantrum, hoping to blame his customer yet again, or pick a fight, who knows.

“They’re coming to get you…Diana,” Undead Greg Schneissder mockingly says to the unfettered Diana who has heard none of the malarky, rightfully ignoring the nitwit just like she does the moron in the driver’s seat who is supposed to be helping people get from Point A to Point B.

Life is too short to argue with fools who complain to their customers, failing to realize all that wasted time wind-bagging could have been better spent, you know, driving the freaking bus.

Six! That’s Six Moronic Years! Ah, Ah, Ah.

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

We made it another year around the Sun. Thank you readers for ingesting these tall tales of the Moroniverse. Yum.

Damien’s Special Birthday Meal

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

“Now Mr. Hurlbutt, we have a special treat for you on your birthday! Instead of daily corn-on-the-cob which we know you just love, we have something else!” the guard says as she brings the test subject his tray.

“Oooh boy, oh boy, what is it?” Damien exclaims with glee, orange neckbeard aglow.

“Corn SILK! Enjoy, Daemon!”

“It’s Damien…” the communal narc-a-doodle and former cinema clerk from Bourbonnais frowns with disappointment and melodrama to add sappiness atop sappiness, head in palm drawn down in slow motion because he is an idiot who had tried to break into Area 51.

Happy Birthday Damien!