Tag: original series

Saturday in the Park

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Opposites attract, smells repel, unless you’re Bernadette and Peppi Cacca.

Bernadette Moran Cacca, Manteno, Illinois’ very own entramanure, communal narc-a-doodle and self-proclaimed “Queen of the Plastic Throne” comes back to the shack which she co-habitates with her drunken husband, Peppi.

Her mouth once wide open enough to catch a fly (or two), now sports a look of contempt after having headed home from the widely-attended Chicago “Hands Off” protest.

“A whole bunch of people walked by, and not one person, not even once, took a single video or picture of ME!”

“That’s that dang liberal protest, right?” Peppi asks.

“Yeah.”

“I told ya to vote for that other guy. Let’s go Brandon!” exclaims the bald, squat, beady-eyed, 70-something geezer, reeking of skunky weed made extra skunky, from rolling in the port-a-pee after he had finished a port-a-job.

“They got plenty of video of other people and their signs, some even made the Chicago news! The national news, too! Why not ME? Ever since Aunt Sonya left, people forget how talented I am, how much I do for the world, how much I poop. I have not gotten a single gig since she flew the coop!”

“She’s just busy I’m sure. Sit down with me, relax, we’ll watch The Wonderful World of Dung together.”

“The original or the remake?”

“The remake is streaming now…”

“Oh I hate the remake!”

Bernadette storms up the stairs, into the best room in the house to sit, poop and play accordion.

Her mother, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla Moran flies into town, rams into the Cacca home once again.

“Maaa!”

“I did a fly-by earlier and you weren’t home!”

“I was at the protest up in Chicago! Didnt you know? I can’t wait to tell you how much I did for America! It’s really good for my image–”

“Not now honey, family’s coming over.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

“Nobody told me about it!”

“I did, you just forgot.” Carla gaslights.

“No you didn’t.”

“Okay, okay, okay, drop it. Just get ready. Take YOUR shower!”

Bernadette continues to poop as her mother sets up the uninvited picnic tables and other crap out back. A committee of shapeshifting humanoid turkey vultures fly on down to the House of Cacca to party on down, and pee on her lawn.

“My daughter has a beautiful voice!” Carla brags about her daughter to her family who had just flown in from the next town over to enjoy a feast of freshly squashed roadkill. Her cold heart shines bright in the face of company.

“Where’s Sonya?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s awful rude of her not to come down. I kept calling, she never answered. Did she get the presents I sent her?”

“Why do you even bother?”

“Shall I sing for you guys?” Bernadette interrupts. “I just tuned my accordion and vuvuzela horn! How about a tune?”

“Not now. Maybe later. I’ve got something to show you!” Carla’s evil grin begins to creep over her face.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a surprise. Come with us.”

They peck, umm, pack into the van like a band of mad clowns and drive over to the hospital in Kankakee.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“We’re going to the hospital!”

“Did somebody die?”

“No.”

“Get hurt, have a heart attack? I wanna know.”

“No, Bernadette.”

The Morans park their van and then walk down into the basement of the hospital, towards a sign marked “Central Sterile Supply.”

“I’m giving you a tour.”

“Of the hospital basement?”

“Yeah. I used to work here when you were little. Time for you to get a real job!”

Bernadette runs away as fast as she can, screaming, cursing and singing show-tunes.

“They, they—they do vivisection in here!” Bernadette exclaims madly as she busts on out the door.

A few locals shake their collective heads at the sight. Just another day in Kankakee.

The port-a-dump proprietor is eventually rounded up and taken in for an evaluation, just not the occupational kind.

After a few hours, Bernadette’s drug test comes back negative and the nurse sends her home. She calls her husband on her smell-phone and of course he does not answer, so she walks home.

A few Kankakee County residents spot Bernadette walking down the road, point and laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me or I will find you attractive!”

“Say what?”

“We saw you on TV!”

“TV? What?” asks a puzzled Mrs. Cacca.

Bernadette begins to grin a bit, visions of people praising her for holding up social justice signs fill her mind, even though she only does it just to look good on the outside.

“Yeah, you ran out of the hospital screaming like a looney bird! You’re a meme now!”

“I MEME AM WHAT?”

“OMG It’s the meme girl! I want a picture with her!”

Bernadette crawls into a nearby bog and takes a massive dump. It smells like someone died over there, or maybe it was just her ego.

MoronicArts Classics: Where There’s Smokey…

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

“Since that party last week in the break room set the sprinkler system off, the ventilation system is all jacked up. We need to do some work ‘round here and move some people”, CRASS Maintenance Manager Mikey Philips tells Collections Team Lead Sybil Kibble.

Head-pounding bangs and fart-like drills are heard, making it hard to get calls made. A smoke-like, horse-manure stench emerges from a cubicle near Sybil’s. Sybil gets up to investigate.

“Smokey? Why are you smoking? Go outside. I do not want to smell that.”

“Oh, they moved me due to the construction going on. I sit near you now. Nice boots, Ms. Kibble!”

“Get on the phones and put your butt out now!”

Sybil walks away and reads the posted sign: “CONSTRUTION – WATCH YOU’RE STEP”

“Yeah, they construe things around here: spelling and grammar!” Sybil wisecracks and steps back to her cube.

Sybil calls a few debtors and logs off the autodialer. The poopy stench continues to waft her way. Sybil clogs her way over to Smokey again.

“Smokey? You have not made a single call!”

“Oh, just one more puff!”

“Get to work! This is a verbal warning!” Sybil sternly tells Smokey.

Sybil grimaces at the loud pounding and drilling, as well as the tobacco clouds eminating from Smokey’s cube. She logs onto her autodialer and collects more debts from her clients’ numbers.

After a particularly stressful escalated call, Sybil logs off the phones and puts her head down. Tired and hangry, she smells the crappy smoke. “I bet she is still horsing around.”

Sybil approaches Smokey, who is slouched down in her chair, her ear in her mobile phone. She is clearly not calling her debtors! 

“That’s the witch. Blonde hair, reading glasses, black and white outfit with heeled boots.”

“Come into my office, NOW!” Sybil orders Smokey.

“No! I do what I want!” Smokey shouts at Sybil and continues her mobile phone conversation.

Sybil storms over to her cube to devise a plan. 

Smokey leaves for lunch, and to buy more cigarettes, of course.

Sybil goes to Smokey’s cube and takes her ashtrays, goes out back and tosses them into the dumpster. She thoroughly checks her cubicle for any other ashtrays. Sybil then takes her trashcan and moves it to her own cubicle, stopping to dump any butts onto Smokey’s desk. “Since she is not doing any work, she does not need this, hahaha.” Sybil hides the trashcan behind her desk. Sybil then takes all the cups out of the break room and hides them in her cubicle, in case Smokey wants to use them for her butts.

Smokey returns for “work” and plops her bum down in her chair. “Dang, where my ashtray go?”

Smokey begins to pace around the office. She looks up and down the office for an ashtray.

“Dale,  handsome fella, got an ashtray?”

“Nope. Do some work.”

“Linda, got an ashtray, my sweet friend?”

“No!”

“Mikey! Hey my cool dude! Got an ashtray?”

“I am trying to do some work here.”

Smokey spends the entire day pacing around the office bothering people.

“Hey Smokey!”

“Mr. Avelli! Oh, Mack, you look so handsome! Hey, do you have a—“

“Yes, I have your termination papers right here. Now go clean out your desk. You’re fired. You have thirty minutes to gather your belongings. We will mail your final paycheck, minus today’s payday as you did not do any work.”

Don’t Make the Mistake of Driving People Batty

~ Jen ~ 11 Comments

Bernadette Cacca has the voice of an angel and the soul of the devil.

Peppi Cacca has the voice of a daemonic troll.

“I got a new gig! And it’s a national one!” Manteno communal narcissist Bern Cacca exclaims to her sociopathic husband and entremanure Peppi, mouth wide open as if to catch a fly.

“Lemme guess…your aunt got you on the front page of the Kankakee Sentinel again.”

Nope.

“More charity shows to make you look good, pretending to care while you don’t? You’re a really good actress,” Peppi emphatically tells his wife.

“Yeah, I know. Not this time.”

“Another recurring walk-on role for a show you can only see on one certain app?”

“Nope. This one is bigger!”

“I don’t care but tell me anyway, I have skunk-weed to smoke after my date with the bottle. Then I have to go harass our next-door neighbors.”

“Out of Warranty Experience hired me for their robocalls! Everybody in the nation will hear wonderful ME tell them their car is out of warranty!” Bern says with glee, then rips a fart. “Mmmmmmm. I love that smell.”

The sun has just gone down. Peppi pounds on the air vent cover to remove his dope from the stash he hides in the duct, rolls up a skunky joint and crawls outside.

“Git-git-git-git-git-git” the clowny Peppiwise calls from the manhole down in front of The Midnight Supremes’ black Victorian Gothic home next door.

“No thanks, you can keep your candy” says Gothic Diana Ross toward the sound coming from the gutter as she completes her late-night stroll.

A skunky stench emerges from the drain, but not from poop. This is a water drain.

“Git-git-git-git-git-git.”

“Do you have something better to do? I’m not interested and never will be.”

Peppi’s ego deflates as Gothic Diana continues to ignore his plea for attention and goes inside and starts band practice.

Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes get ready to play, beginning with the number “Stop in the Name of Death.”

“Check-check, 1-2-1-2. Six Six. Why is this mic not working?” a frustrated Gothic Diana asks her cover band.

Diana opens up the battery cover. “Dead as a doornail.”

“Why don’t you bury them?” Gothic Flo jokes.

“We should have a funeral,” deadpans Miss Gothic Mary.

As the trio begins the dead batteries’ funeral rites, their ceremony gets interrupted by a phone call.

“Hey” answers Gothic Diana, putting her phone on speaker, hoping the band is getting called about a new gig.

“Don’t make the mistake of driving without a warranty…” the robocall commands. “This is the final call before we close the file. Press one to speak”

Click.

“I’ll press you, stupid moron!” Gothic Diana exclaims.

“She sounds familiar. Who is that?” Gothic Flo asks.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Diana replies.

“Hey, methinks it’s that actor lady next door…the one who owns a port-a-potty business with her husband. Hey Mary, what’s her name?”

“Bern Cacca. She burns poop in their fireplace.”

“Ohhh, that’s why we smell her crap. Does she think it does not stink?” Mary jokes as the girl group erupts in laughter.

Gothic Diana walks outside her home to go for a brisk walk. She hears a sound off in the distance: “git-git-git-git-git.” 

“Oh no, not Peppiwise again,” Diana says to herself as she passes by another rain gutter.

The 5’10”, slender beauty in the black dress gets another cell phone call.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make the mistake of going without a warranty…” 

Click.

“I’ll get a warrant alright, for her arrest!”

Gothic Diana walks over to the house of her Manteno neighbor Bern Cacca to give her a piece of her mind. However there is a line of angry neighbors queued around the street wanting to also have a word with Mrs. Cacca. They knock, to no avail.

“Git-git-git-git-git” emerges from the sewer drain.

“I don’t want to litter, however I have no choice” Diana says as she goes to drop the leaking, dead batteries from her microphone into the nearest gutter. Before she has a chance, Bern comes a-running.

“Git-git-git!” sounds Peppi’s mating call.

“Oh I am here, honey!” an attracted Bern Cacca says as she runs to her hubby hiding out in the sewer, jumps in and continues persuit.

Plop. “Oops did I do that?” Gothic Diana thinks out loud as she drops the dead AA Imbecells into the drain.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Peppi exclaims, barely dodging the battery acid.

Needless to say, Bern and Peppi’s romantic moment was ruined.

The crestfallen Caccas retire to their shack, but don’t bother to shower of course. After all, the couple that stinks together, stays together. As the King and Queen of the plastic throne drift off to sleep, sirens grow louder, and a knock is heard at their entrance…

MoronicArts Classics: Favorite Flicks of the Moroniverse

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Walter Augustine Green

Cigar-rolling B-rolls Wally finds oh so interesting.

Sybil Katrina Kibble

“Scooby-Doo: The Movie” Sybil watches for the Scooby Snacks.

JoAnn Kissane Kibble

“The Nut Job” is the favorite of Sybil’s ma JoAnn A/K/A “JK,” since she, Sybil and best friend PJ Hurlbutt love to go out squirrel-watching even though the neighbors think they are a little nuts.

Bernadette Moran Cacca

“The Wonderful World of Dung” Bern Cacca wishes she can see again (and again, and again), because she enjoys dropping a deuce. Her favorite part is watching the elephants pooping and peeing at the same time. Here she sits all broken hearted, tried to buy but only parted because the stupid thing is even not out on DVD.

Peppi Cacca

“Dude, Who Stole My Car?” is the only movie Peppi ever watched, because it’s the only dumb enough for him to understand.

Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt

“Batman Returns” is at the top of this narc-a-doodle neckbeard’s list. Damien feels bad for The Penguin because he identifies with him. He thinks the movie is all about him as he does everything else.

Robbie Roy Gary Hurlbutt

“Bubba Ho-Tep” Robbie Hurlbutt binges on repeat because he thinks he is the reincarnation of Elvis Presley. He leaves the building to watch it because his biggest fear is being locked in the washroom.

Konrad Teirant

“Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room” Kon watches on his smart-watch, so he can find timely recipes to cook the CRASS books.

Judy Avelli

“Scream” has Judi enticed because she has a thing for Ghostface.

Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran

Carla Moran (not to be confused with a different Carla Moran) watches “The Entity” in a recursive loop, when she can’t sleep. Then people tell her it’s all in her head…umm…beak.

Mack E. Avelli

“Battlefield Earth” is the beloved favorite movie of the CRASS chief. He thinks it is the best science fiction movie ever made and that it’s a true story.

Women, Wine and Song

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Pop sales are slow. After brewing up some new ideas, Wally Green decides to it’s time promote his new wine line. Wanting to find a pretty spokeslady (or three) to help sell it, he calls up his girlfriend Bernadette Cacca. Butt, her smell phone keeps sending him to voicemail jail, so he calls up another act.

“It’s now Winesday, and I’m ready to get corkin’.” Wally announces.

“Introducing, Gothic Diana Ross & The Midnight Supremes!“

The Manteno siblings open up with their number “You Can’t Hurry Death.”

Diana spies her number-one-stalker: vulnerable narcadoodle, Elvis impersonator and store clerk Robbie Hurlbutt.

“Oh snap, what’s he doing here? Doesn’t the store know I have a restraining order against his bum?”

Robbie goes right up to the promotional stage, and winks at the girls. “I got a hunka hunka burnin’ love for yoooouuu!” Robbie sings and starts dancing like a fool. The sisters put down their guitars and stop playing.

“Get bent, Robbie.”

Diana and the other two talented ladies shoo Robbie away, waving their hands like magic wands.

“But he works here, Diana!” Drugstore owner Wally Green says to the trio, making excuses of course. “Now make it rain, ladies!” Wally loves money almost as much as he does pretty ladies, just not their safety or well-being.

Robbie dances his goofy little self over to the wine cooler and shoves every single bottle into his little green shopping cart.

“We have an ICUP at the register. ICUP at the register.”

Before Robbie has a chance to whip out his ID, he has a clean-up on I’ll-Pee.

“Don’t get locked in the washroom!”

“Time to wash those blue suede shoes, now.”

“Elvis has left the drugstore.” After sharing a laugh at their creepy stalker’s expense, the black beauties start singing and playing their gothic cover tunes again.

“Stop! In the name of Death…before you break your crown.”

Meanwhile Wally assists Robbie cleaning up the aftermath from his sprung leak, because he’s good at losing slip-and-fall lawsuits.

Bernadette: Don’t watch that, watch this!

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

This is the heavy-heavy bog witch sound…on Pootube.

Not watching the Superbowl? Neither is Bernadette Moran Cacca. Instead, the communal narcadoodle, bog witch and portable washroom empress is hosting a watch party with her Poopy Groupies at the Manteno Optimal Club:

Unfortunately, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture, Ferengi-loving landlord, and fan-club president Aunt Sonya won’t be there. She flew the poop coop.

Sucks to be Sonya.

All I Want For Christmas is Poo?

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

What do these bent carrots want now?

Seasons Yeetings from the Moroniverse! Yeet that 2024 to the Moon, Alice!

Violated.

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

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

The Bigger The Bird, The Bigger The Turd

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Manteno portable-waste-recepticle empress, communal narcadoodle and bog witch Bernadette Moran Cacca read this Turkey Day card from her reluctant mother, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla Moran, which she had dropped off during a flyover.

Methinks we know from whom Bernadette learned to polish her turds.

“Ma, you ARE a bird! Cannibal!” Bernadette exclaims from the bog, to her mother who swooped on down later that evening.

Speaking with her mouth full, she tries to chase away her equally dysfunctional mother, in-between bites of yet another unsuspecting male suitor she had nommed for supper. Then she poops.

Happy Thanksgiving from MoronicArts! May your family dinner more fun and not so dysfunctional.

Robbie Makes Billboard

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Kankakee Elvis impersonator and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt thinks he is Elvis. He posted this billboard to hopefully bring in some birthday cheer from the single ladies. Do you think it will work? Don’t lock him in the bathroom!