Tag: original series

Behind the Moroniverse – Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

The main inspiration behind fictional character Damien Hurlbutt has is so self-centered, he thinks this blog is all about him.

Seriously. I hope over time more people learn about communal narcissists and how they insidiously abuse people. Overts and covert narc-a-doodles are bad enough; communals are even sneakier.  I would not wish narcissistic abuse on my worst enemy and wish no ill will. I just wish they would all form their own narc colony on a deserted island and leave the rest of us alone. 

Or better yet, drop them from planes into an erupting volcano, and vaporize them so they cannot make more narcissists (OK not really, but it would be cool).

I was married to one of these evil souls. Had I known he was the son of Satan, I would not have dated him, moved to Illinois to marry him, leaving behind a job I loved to take one that was less than pleasant. 0/10 would not recommend.

I wish I had been given the omen.

Now divorced, this real-life neckbeard and “men’s rights activist” has told his friends that I draw cartoons of him and write stories about him.

Has he heard of Squirrely Dan?

My ex works as a senior library specialist and loves to read. I would hope that someone like him, whom I would think has a good grasp on literacy would understand that Damien and all the other morons on this blog are fictional characters — as in pretend people, not real ones. DUH.

Apparently my former husband thinks he works in a movie theater, like the random stranger whom I had met in 2004. Just like the fictional Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt, this real-life despot had been offering cloned movie tickets in return for a date, to us call-center coworkers taking breaks outside. I did not meet my ex until 2008.

I will never forgive my ex for trying to turn the spouse of my late friend against me in his smear-campaigning. Such a tender-heart, a self-proclaimed “old soul” writes lunacy letters like the drivel below and sends them to his estranged spouse’s medical providers.

Because, umm, a librarian knows more about psychology than an actual mental health provider? yeah…no.

My ex thinks so. Behold part of this lunacy letter he sent to my mental health team:

Projection: A narcissist’s calling card, as is pathological lying. Methinks narcissists have their own code of misconduct, maybe even a manual.

I will never forgive him for telling me he was “a nice guy for not throwing me into oncoming traffic” while we were walking into the hospital. Yeah, a really nice guy NiceGuy™ does that, right?

I will never forgive him for manipulating the divorce judge into letting him take custody of my cat Holly, whom he repeatedly hit (“it’s just a light tap” he gaslit when caught) and put into the shower to “punish.” Who does that to a cat? Has he helped move a body or something? Sadly he took the cat from me…

I will never forgive my ex for idealizing, devaluing me and then attempting to discard me, shortly before I left him. Rumor has it, he still obsesses over me, and makes feeble attempts to smear campaign me using the same DARVO tactics and made-up mental health diagnosis he had used in 2017. I imagine he pushes away what little friends narcissistic supply he has left.. Like his bootlicker friend once said to me, I wish he would “get over it, just move on.”

With narcadoodles, every projection is a confession.

I write and draw MoronicArts stories to cope with having been abused. I feel it helps and I am a lot happier back in New York State, doing my own thing, living with my sweet kitty, creating music, learning to speak other languages and making Youtube videos.

My hope is that my stories help others who have been abused by these monsters cope and process the crap they have been going through and hopefully bring a little joy to them, and myself also. Oh and it s fun to draw silly cartoons of fake events and pretend people doing moronic things to each other..

Do you think you may going through domestic violence or know someone who suffers it? Emotional abuse is still abuse and a form of domestic violence. Please click this link to learn more and to find help in your area: https://www.nomore.org/the-no-more-global-directory/

Your needs are valid, I believe you, and you are not alone. Healing is possible, as hard as it may seem.

Damien’s desperate Dreamland letter to Donnie

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Tired of eating corn for his hot and getting yanked from his cot, captured trespasser, communal narcadoodle and neckbeard nincompoop Damien Hurlbutt asks if he can write a letter.

“You can only send inter-departmental mail here.”

“I know, I know, I know, I know…”

“Stop acting like a clown and get back in your cell.”

“Hooo!”

“I don’t know who. You’re the one who asked, fool.”

The guard slams the door, then the world’s largest source of natural gas starts scrawling, before he gets hauled away for his thrice daily flatulence testing. After returning to his cell in the Alternative Fuels Division at Dreamland Resort, Damien finishes his letter to President Turnip (no relation to Jamie Turnip), then gives it to the staff to type up so he can sign it.

The letter is put into inter-office mail and sent forth to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC.

Bored with inventing new recipes for covfefe to barf up all over social media, the president reads the mail with his tiny hands and aging mental acuity. A couple hours later, Donnie reads Damien’s desperate cry for help.

After giggling, Turnip divides up the letter into strips, chucks it into the fireplace along with his other mail and proceeds to fall fast asleep in his chair, dreaming about how to bigly cheat at golf.

Then he poops.

Behind the Moroniverse – Character Theme Songs

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

What kind of songs do the denizens of the Moroniverse like? Here’s a list. Have fun!

Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble misses eating King Kuts dog food.

JoAnn Kibble raps along to this safety song while rearranging her collection of school bus parts.

Robbie Hurlbutt sure thinks he’s number one.

Bourbonnais neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt used to jam out to this tune while driving to work at the Teirant Cinema-13, before he got captured trying to storm Area 51.

Wacky inventor and drugstore owner Wally Green doesn’t accept “no” for an answer when he thinks he has found the magnet to his steel.

Konrad Teirant plays a lot of Dirty Games.


Bernadette M. Cacca had loved her Turd Machine Deluxe so much, she went out and bought 19 more of them.


Gothic Diana Ross turns the men upside down with her long, long notes.

Ant D. Yu was having fun spinning this tune at the Manteno Optimal Club until Bernadette Cacca and her Poopy Groupies had showed up and made a stink. Word has it he still plays it when she’s not there.


Pat Splatt loves spammity spam, spam spam spam, beautiful spam spam spam spam.


Brandon Dixon thinks his tractor…mmm…imbecile machine is sexy.


One half of the rap group The Chickenheads, Tyrell “Ty-Fowl” Fowler burps along to this song:


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

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!

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

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.

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.

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?

Things These Morons LiveLaughLove.

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment
Daily writing prompt
What are three objects you couldn’t live without?
View all responses

“Dog bones, water, washrooms”
– Sybil Kibble, Bill Collector, Kankakee


”Life, death and everything in-between”
– Gothic Diana Ross, Singer and Vet Tech, Manteno



”Showers, fedoras and food that’s not corn…preferably cheeseburgers and fries…M’lady.“
– Damien Hurlbutt, Area 51 test subject (Formerly of Bourbonnais and Champaign



”Elvis records, blue suede shoes and fine women!”
– Robbie Hurlbutt, singer and pharmacy clerk, Kankakee



“Poop, poop and more poop”
– Bernadette M. Cacca, entramanure, Manteno




Crapstraps, Turd Machines and Mr. Plopsy Canes. I should know, I invented them myself!”
– Wally Green, Pharmacy chain owner, Bradley (Formerly of Deerfield)

MoronicArts Classics: Bern Book

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

“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! I’m sure you saw my announcement on TV! I was on every channel!”

The portapotty empress sits on her toilet which she just bought from Bucketheads Hardware and begins to sing from a book:

image: “regular” 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!”

image: toilet box on a hardware store shelf. image on box of flushed golf balls. text on box reads: "Flush like a champion."

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 runs. Happy for the distraction, Mrs Cacca opens her gift. “Is this for meeee? Oh you are the best.”

Bernadette shows her malcontent for the gift, and even the mere thought behind it. She rambles like a Turd Machine spitting out letter-blocks from a craft store. 

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.”