Kankakee County narcadoodles Damien Hurlbutt-Head and Robbie “Beavis” Hurlbutt eat cheese-puffs and drink beer on the couch while watching music videos on television, wishing they could “score.”
“This sucks, change it!” — Damien Hurlbutt-Head
Wally Green is so proud of his inventions, which he made after graduating bottom of his class with a double major in Engineering and Pharmacy Sciences. He now proudly sells these things in Wally Green’s Pharmacy Stores all over Kankakee County.
Double zippers
Wally invented the double zipper — along with superfluous pockets — to increase prices without increasing functionality. Who needs that, right? Wally figured, who cares if bags were to unzip when you zip them, and zip when you go to unzip them? As long as Wally makes his money at his stores, he is happy because he loves cold hard cash.
Half-ply toilet paper
Have you gone into a store or stayed in hospital and gotten enraged at the dirt cheap toilet paper supplied for the bathrooms? Thank Wally Green. He invented Half Ply Toilet Paper to save money for stingy retailers who do not care about their customers, but do care about cutting costs and increasing their bottom line. It breaks off one piece at a time, but who cares if the customer or patient cannot get it off the roll, if Wally is not the one peeing?
Extra-Clingy Pad Wrappers
Have you had a hard time getting pad wrappers to stay in the garbage and not fly away? Thank Wally Green. Wally invented a way to make sure that pads cost the same but are cheaper to make. He has been sellingthem for the same price in his stores, of course, and did not care how frustrating it can be for the wrappers to fly up, up, and away in the air, even without wings to soar.
#PoopingForBernadette
Multiplex clerk, fedora-sporting neckbeard and Communal narcadoodle Damien Hurlbutt desperately wants to impress his new girlfriend, Rachel Shelley, into coming back to visit him in Bourbonnais, Illinois from Detroit. However, he is as broke as a joke from his toy hoarding.
He comes up with a plan. Damien dials up his vulnerable narcissist brother Robbie and asks if he can steal some identities. He offers some of his duplicate record albums as payment.
“I can part with my poorer copies of ‘Broken’ by The Favorites, my extra Walter Egans and all my Jewel records. I can throw in some Katy Scarys if you want, too…” Damien explains to Robbie, a Kankakee Elvis impersonator and pharmacy clerk.
Robbie jumps at the opportunity to add to his own hoard.
Robbie gets busy calling local con man Pat Splatt and the two devise a way to break into local sweetheart, single lady Kitty Bee’s computer to steal her identity. Feeling dejected from having been rejected in 1993 after Pat had made a pass at her, Pat decides Kitty is a perfect target for moronic revenge.
Robbie successfully steals Kitty’s credit card information and buys 18 bottles of dehydrated water and six tubs full of fat-free oil from Wally Green’s online mall. Damien thought these new inventions would impress Rachel in her fruitless efforts to lose weight, and who else to mansplain but Bourbonnais neckbeard Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt? “Throw in some cubic zirconia rings. She’ll never know they’re fake,” a bulbous Damien commands his brother Robbie.
“You got it.” Robbie smirks, a crooked grin fills half his face, almost touching one of his blue-black mutton chops.
Damien tips his black fedora, the one with which he hatfished Rachel. After all, how would the public — whom he works so hard to impress — know his “medium” bald spot takes up his entire head? He enters the washroom and sits on the potty.
“Oh kids!”
“What kids?” A quizzical Robbie asks Damien.
“Oh kids. Ohhh kids!”
A loud splash is heard from the washroom.
“Pheeeew!” Damien cries and waves his hand by his bum.
He emerges and sprinkles his newly washed hands all over Robbie and roommate Andy’s living-room carpet, using it as a bathmat, and at Robbie as well.
“I just left a huge stinker in your toity. Would you like to see it?” a proud Damien boasts.
“Just leave the door open and don’t close it if I am in there.” Robbie says.
“You’re not Elvis, just an impersonator.”
Two days later, the stolen goods arrive at Damien’s Bourbonnais apartment. “Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Damien exclaims as his next-door neighbor gives him the stinkeye.
Damien wraps the stolen, useless crap into prank boxes, boxes inside larger, nested boxes, and oddly shaped packaging, taping each package with hard-to-open packing tape to extend his desired cliffhanging effect on Rachel Shelley.
“I can’t wait to videotape Rachel, the expression on her face when she opens all those gifts from ME!” Damien says to himself, wearing a huge grin.
Damien finishes up his hours of taping, wrapping and more taping. He tests out his camcorder and memory card. He is all set for his catch.
Rachel walks in the next day, much later than Damien anticipates. Damien tips his fedora. “Hello, M’lady, Madame.”
“Yup. Hey.”
“Good to see you, do I get a hug?”
“Sure.”
The two embrace.
“Turn around and close your eyes. I am going to take your hand, honey puddin”.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“But I say it because I love you. You’re so little and dainty.”
“Grrrr.” Rachel emits.
“Now take my hand. I have a little surprise for my honey puddin.”
Damien begins secretly rolling tape and then takes Rachel’s hand, leading her into his cluttered kitchen.
“Now open your eyes, M’lady.”
Rcahel opens her eyes, displaying her typical blank expression.
“I bought all these gifts for YOU!”
Rachel cracks half a grin.
“Now I want you to open this one first.”
Rachel opens the huge, nested box.
“Dehydrated water? Ohhh-kayyyy…”
“Yeah. I thought you might like it. I bought it at Wally Green’s. It was buy one get one half off. Now open this one.”
Damien shoves another large box over to Rachel. She opens box after box, finally revealing its contents.
“Fat free oil?”
“Yeah. You could use it to cook. After all, you need to lose weight and I want to help!”
Rachel begins to scowl.
“Oh, now you will really love this. Women love small boxes.”
Damien hands Rachel another box, which she also struggles to open.
“Why do you use so much tape? Packing tape too? Did you run out of regular tape?”
“Oh this is regular tape.” Damien snickers. Rachel finally gets the package open. “I got you a sparkly!” Damien exclaims. “Not only one but 17 of them!”
Rachel tips the box on its side and reads the label. “Cubic…zirconia.”
Damien’s face turns cherry red.
Music is heard from the other room.
“That’s my phone.”
Rachel gathers the boxes and walks away. Damien checks the tape. Rachel walks back in and Damien jumps, startled, and hides what he was doing.
“Hi honey.”
“Oh hey, I gotta go. Thanks for the stuff.”
“Yeah honey puddin. Where you going?”
“Out.” Rachel declares and heads out with the stuff Damien gave her.
Damien is all alone. Sirens are now wailing from the distance, getting louder as the seconds pass. Damien is shaking but trying not to show it. A knock is heard at his door. It is just what he fears.
Rachel arrives at her lover Leon Peeone’s apartment.
“Hey Leon, I got some crap to sell so we can get some more hard stuff.” The two laugh but not for long. Neither one of them are too bright.
“Where did all the trolls go?” Gothic Diana Ross asked as she walked under the dark underpass in Kankakee, near Brandon’s Imbecile Machines in the Used Car District.
”Dude, they are taking a dump all over the Internet,” Gothic Mary quips and the Midnight Supremes giggle.
”Yeah, they crawled out from under the bridges and onto the Interwebs again,” Gothic Flo advises the girl group on the way to their gig, so excited to be busy, unlike the trolls whose home they just passed through.
A very short story about a vulnerable narcadoodle, Wally Green’s clerk, and Elvis impersonator from Kankakee named Robert Roy Gary Hurlbutt.
Robbie will self-destruct in five seconds.
Thank you to blogger Molly Shea for the idea!
Broken News:
Kankakee County Wally Green’s clerk, vulnerable narcissist, and self-proclaimed Number One Elvis impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt is dancing his way all around the county! Bourbonnais, Manteno, Aroma Park — look out!
A new life awaits you in the Off-World Colony. A chance to begin again in a golden land of opportunity and adventure! Sign up now at Nexus Employment Solutions — right in Manteno, Illinois!
Have you been wanting to create a pop tune but are too lazy to write music? Are you the type of person who goes for quantity over quality? Wally Green has the machine for you!
Pop music producers have been using it for awhile, but this is the first time they’re admitting it. Wally’s Music Machine is a tabletop electronic device, made by by Kankakee pharmacy owner, wacky inventor and wannabe ladies’ man Wally Green:
It randomly generates pop songs at the push of a button using Wally’s patented AI (Automated Insipidness). Try it!
Hear what Wally’s customers have to say:
“It’s as easy as pressing 1-2-3,” says a record producer for one of the Big 5 record labels, speaking on condition of anonymity. “Just power the device on, press ‘start’ and out comes a song.”
You can even create remixes using the device. “Just pop in a CD and it does all the work for you.” he adds. You can even add effects, using plug-ins like the overused Antares Auto-Tune, and built-in preset to crank it up higher than needed on purpose.
The record producer states that, because of it is so easy to use, producers of Top 40 pop songs use it. “You don’t have to be a nuclear physicist to run it; you don’t need have graduated 6th grade to make a pop song. It changed my life. Now I pay my girlfriend to wipe my bum for me..”
This reason, explains an executive for the RI Double A, is why so much pop music sounds alike.
“I may live all by myself in my ginormous mansion in Beverly Hills, surrounded by sacks of cash and a fridge fulla caviar. I may go for weekly high colonics. If the stations play these songs enough, kids will like it…no matter how terrible it is. If we can minimize the amount of time spent producing a record, we can increase our profits exponentially. That’s all we want, that’s all the label wants. Who cares about art or paying the artist? Cha-ching.”
Buy your Music Machine at a Wally Green’s on a corner near you. Or not.
MoronicArts 
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