Battle of the Nitwits #PoopingForBernadette

In this corner: The Manteno Wonder, Communal Narcadoodle and Portapotty Entamanure Bernadette Cacca! In the other corner: a useless real-estate scammer! It’s a battle of nitwits to try and scam each other!

Backside: When communal #narc and #Manteno Optimal Club president #Bernadette Moran Cacca graduated high school she wanted to be a wrestler. When her wrestling career as the Manteno Wonder failed, she joined the army. She kept getting put on poop burning duty and got a dishonorable discharge…from her butt.

Bernadette was in such a hurry to become a regular that she tried to run over one of the regulars at the coffeehouse. She wanted to get the runs. Gotta mine that #craptocoin and NFTs: newly-formed turds for her charity singing and kazoo playing which she does only for the photo opportunity. Looks are deceiving because she makes a good dog-and-pony poop show pretending she cares. She only loves poop.

#PoopingForBernadette

We Have Stinkoff!

Manteno entertainer, communal narcadoodle and entramanure Bern Cacca feels enamored seeing her stock photo put to good use at her corner Wally Green’s. She loves it so much, she stares at it for the next two hours while she waits for her prescription the pharmacy clerk told her would only take 20 minutes. Then she poops her pants.

#PoopingForBernadette

Voices Carry, Bernadette

Bog witch Bern bathes in the bog

Manteno port-a-potty proprietor, singer and communal narcadoodle Bernadette “Bern” Cacca spends her vacation swimming in the bog. She gets bored devouring the living and speeds home to her shack to visit her husband Peppi.

Bern opens her mailbox to find a letter sent from Peppi.

“DEAR BERN. I GOT OUTTA REHAB AND AM LIVING IN A HALFWAY HOUSE. BRING BEER.”

Bern fears the loss of narcissistic supply since her husband is away. 

Bourbonnais cinema clerk, communal narcissist, and proud neckbeard Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt is visiting his brother; Wally Green’s clerk, Elvis impersonator and covert narcissist Robert Roy Gary Hurlbutt at his apartment, with whom he used to share with drifter Andy Skandees.

The Narcissist Brothers: Robbie and Damien Hurlbutt

“What are ya gonna do on ya day off?”

“After lunch, smunch, gonna zogg on over home and write me an article!”

“Don’t you wanna spend it with your only brother? I am in a dark mood.”

“Naw, you see, I am going to write a paper.”

Awkward silence passes the two, like a fart in the wind.

“Since people think we are narcissists, I am gonna prove them wrong! Bwahahahaha.”

A sinister grin fills Damien’s face, morphing his orange, straggly beard into something even creepier.

“After I write an article all about narcissism, I am going to send it to my former therapist down in Champaign for a once-over, and prove forever we are not narcissistic at all. Then I people will know I am the victim and all her friends will say goodbye! Bwa ha ha ha ha!”

“She’s the counselor also who saw the convicted murderer who lived in your old apartment complex, right?”

“I know, I know, I know…”

“Did you help him move the body?”

“Anyways…I need to go back to Bourbonnais and write this important article.”

Damien taps away at his 10-year-old desktop machine atop his TV tray, sitting on a folding metal chair, the only furniture he has since the rest of his apartment is cluttered with boxes containing useless crap; shredded tissues strewn across the carpet, empty pop cans littering the apartment he uses as a dumpster.

Bern runs all over Manteno looking for gullible men, to no avail.

Remembering that fellow communal narcadoodle Damien Hurlbutt hit on her at Cinema-13, she heads over to pay him a visit. Damien is not there, so the clerk hands Damien’s card to Bern.

“Damien Hurlbutt, old soul and tender-heart looking for M’ladies.

Call me now. I am the last of my species. 1-815-555-FART”

Happy she does not have to look anymore for someone she can idealize, devalue and then discard like used burger wrappers, Bernadette calls Damien and heads over his neckbeard nest in Bourbonnais. 

Damien opens the door and immediately hugs Bern, handing her a bouquet of long stem roses.

“Hello, M’Lady. I tip my hat to you, so little and dainty. I have another surprise inside.”

“Oooh, let’s go!”

Damien holds the door for Bern, and brags about it as if he needs a medal.

Atop one of his many boxes of crap is a bunch of balloons attached to a massive teddy bear. 

“I gotta go for real.”

“So soon?”

“No, I mean I need to use the washroom.”

“Ahh.”

Bern wades through the lake on his washroom floor, farts a bunch of times, and takes a massive crap.

Bern opens the door to a wide-eyed Damien.

“Are these for me?” Bern asks Damien, mouth wide open, almost inhaling one of the flies buzzing around Damien’s dumpy excuse of an apartment.

“Yes, honey puddin’.”

“Oh you are the best, Damien!”

“Anything for you, M’lady, Madame.” Damien tips his black fedora.

“By the way, I’m impressed!”

“You think so? Oh, you are nicest guy on earth. I love to sing for charity, I am the best giver you know! And the best listener.”

“No, I’m the best giver. And I mean your farting. Man, those are some hot toots!”

“Yeah, I light them to burn poopies in my fireplace.”

“Dang, wanna stay the night?”

“Yeah, baby!”

“Hoooo!”

“I don’t know. Who? I hope me, handsome dahhhhling.”

The two spend the night together on Damien’s bare floor, cuddled together under Damien’s ratty blanket, sharing his lone pillow.

Bern awakes many times in the night by a loud, dissonant noise.

Damien wakes up, farts three times, and heads to the washroom, peeing loudly. Then he rips a few more air biscuits, bragging, “Pheeeew!”

Bern checks her phone for donations to the Manteno Optimal Club, for which she plays accordion, covering pop tunes to raise money. Secretly, she does not really care about the charity nor the community as a whole. She just wants to look good on the outside.

Damien walks back into his room.

“Dude, why do you snore so loudly?”

“Oh, I have sleep apnea.”

“Why don’t you wear your mask?”

“It fills up with water in the night.”

“You do know they make automatic cleaners for those things. My mom has one.”

“I know, I know, I know…”

“And no bed? My back is killing me from sleeping on your hard floor.”

“How about we go to your place, M’lady?”

“I don’t want my husband to find out.”

“Husband?”

“Yeah, Peppi is in rehab for his drinking again.”

“Oh, I won’t tell him. I was married once before I married Grimace and I never told her.”

“Grimace? Who?”

“Oh my ex-wife. She got more hostile every day when I was getting ready to leave her down in Champaign. It was all about her, her her,” Damien smears the woman he emotionally abused.

“Why do you call her Grimace?”

“She is so fat and so dumb. One year I bought her a vacuum and she could not even put the thing together.”

“Sounds like me.”

“Naw, honey puddin’. You are a lot prettier than her.”

Damien takes his usual hour-long shower, runs out the bathroom to grab a towel and spills water all over the floor. After drying off his manhood with a hair-dryer, he gets dressed, and meets Bernadette in her car.

The two walk into Bern’s Manteno shack, which she shares with husband Peppi.

“Can I use your computer?

“Go ahead!”

Damien checks his email.

“Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!” Damien exclaims with glee.

From: “Florence” [ProgressiveTherapyLLC@dmail.calm]

To:  “Damien U. Hurlbutt” [connivingpimp@hautemail.con]

Sunday, January 30, 2022

Subject: Re: I have a great idea which I think you will like

Damien, you have sent me four emails now. You are not my client any more, and I will not sign off on your idea. Here is a list of therapists in Kankakee County.

Attached file: “TherapistsInKankakee.pdf”

Damien fires back an angry email:

From: “Damien U. Hurlbutt” [connivingpimp@hautemail.con]

To: “Florence” [ProgressiveTherapyLLC@dmail.calm]

Sunday, January 30, 2022

Subject: Re: re: I have a great idea which I think you will like

No, I do not need help. There is nothing wrong with me. You are psycho like my ex-wife!

Bern walks in and Damien quickly locks the computer screen so she cannot see what shenanigans he has been barfing up.

“I gotta head upstairs. I will be awhile.”

Damien grabs Bern’s hands and looks her dead in the eye.

“I was about to close off my heart and never love again, M’lady. When I was born, my mother saw my head full of red hair and named me after the kid from The Omen. We redheaded males get discriminated against—“

“Damien, you are really handsome and your farts smell amazing. I really need to go poop for awhile.”

“Okay, honey puddin’. I will be here.”

As Damien hits send on his email to his former therapist, someone rings Mrs. Cacca’s doorbell.

“Oh, horse-hockey,” Damien complains.

“Come innnnn!” Bern’s voice emanates from the upstairs restroom.

“Bernadette, somebody is here.”

“Let them in.”

Damien opens the door. A 5’10” average looking male asks for Bernadette.

“Who are you?”

“I am JB, her boyfriend. Who are you?”

“Uhhh-I’ll go get her.”

JB sits down on the Caccas’ couch while Bernadette continues to pinch loaves.

“Bern, I am gonna go on home. I have a stitch in my side, and my heel spurs are hurting.”

“PPPHHHPPPTTTTTT” says Bern’s butt. Damien’s derriere returns the sentiment and he heads home.

Bern comes down the stairs to greet her other boyfriend.

“Hey sugar, you the most handsome man alive. How are ya?”

“Do you have any turds? My turd-machine is out of ammo again and I have no luck stealing poopies.”

Little does Bern know, she has an audience.

“Is this the dawning of the age of morons?” the next-door neighbors Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes ask each other, giggling. They have been standing on their porch, listening in on Bern’s conversations with her boyfriends. 

“Bern Cacca has her nose so far up her enablers’ butts she can see out their mouths,” Gothic Flo quips and the gothic girl group busts out laughing, happy to have a laugh at the Caccas’ expense.

Happy Birthday Bernadette Cacca!

For her birthday today, Manteno Mistress of Poop, Entramanure and Communal Narcadoodle Bern Cacca wants to meet her idol, Kaitlin #PoopingForKaitlin Bennett! We hope she’s full o’ crap!

Happy Birthday to you

You really like poo

You burn your own poopies

You fart on them too!

And many moorrrrre…

Youtube Pooping is a Spiritual Experience

Manteno communal narcadoodle, bog witch and entramanure Bern Cacca enjoys watching this poetic video on her phone during her hours of idle time. She enjoys the simple pleasure in life, like taking a massive dump and burning it in her fireplace.

“Live, laugh, poop.” — Bern Cacca

#PoopingForBernadette

“A fart is but the lonely cry of an imprisoned turd”
– Butt-Head

This Guy is #PoopingForBernadette

Manteno swamp witch, co-founder of Peppi’s Portapotties and communal narcissist Bernadette “Bern” Cacca, burns poopies in the fireplace after her husband Peppi empties the portable johns.

Bern gets a message from a potential customer who had watched her sing show-tunes and play accordion to raise money for the Manteno Optimal Club. Little does the he — nor the rest of the public — know that Bern only does this to help her look good on the outside. After all, looks are deceiving. She could not care less about the charity nor anyone but herself.

Excited to meet a fan and potential customer, this queen of the porcelain throne shares the link to her port-o-dump commercial where she sings and husband Peppi raps.

Impressed, the fellow presses Bern for more information.

Bernadette delivers..

Bern is busy pooping, lighting her farts to spark flames and burning the turds in the fireplace. She hands the phone to her husband Peppi – who hopes to score a side-piece.

Giddy-Up!

Peppi feels disappointed, rejected by his love-interest who shares his level of imbecilics. He goes out and starts emptying the porta-johns, bringing the solids to Bern and rolling the liquids into his dime-bags. Peppi is excited to roll some extra skunky joints. Ahh, nice and stinky.

Peppi puffs away lying on his bed; not a care in the world, not even to his neighbors Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes who cannot stand the smell. Then he drowns himself in moonshine and pukes it all up.

Thankfully Bernadette already had already pooped in the washroom like her idol Kaitlin Bennett.

#PoopingForKaitlin

A Steaming Pile of Love

“I know! I know! — Damien

Bourbonnais narcissist, neckbeard and pool-toy enthusiast Damien Hurlbutt, working the concession stand at Cinema-13, tries to sell a customer some “Non-Parallels”

“Do you mean nonpareils?”

“Oh, these are non-parallels.”

“I will just get some popcorn with butter then.” 

In walks a rather foul-smelling couple. 

Bern Cacca’s Turd-Eating Grin

“Hey, can I speak to the manager?” Manteno communal narcissist, Optimal Club accordion-player and port-o-dump partner Bern Cacca asks Damien.

“OK Karen. He’s busy,” Damien says in his usual monotone voice, not even looking at Bern, too concerned with filling popcorn and listening to the copier in the back office create a pile of ticket facsimiles so he can hopefully woo women with them.

“We have a meeting at 2 to discuss advertising our porto potty business with a Mr. Konrad…Teeerant?”

“I know, I know. It’s Teirant. Rhymes with ‘tyrant.’ Walk over to that door and knock.” The bulbous neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt points to the door simply marked “Manager” getting a glimpse of Bernadette Cacca’s behind as she and her husband Peppi make their way toward Konrad’s office. An evil grin fills Damien Hurlbutt’s face, with bedroom eyes to match.

Image: black-and-white cartoon set in an office. A man and a woman wearing crowns face a man sitting down on a chair with the text: "Teirant Cinemas."
The Caccas’ submit a proposal to do their business.

After the meeting, Bern, Peppi and Konrad emerge. Bern beelines toward the washroom, pinches a massive loaf, and stares at it in awe. She is so proud of her creation, almost afraid to flush it down. Since she has nowhere to burn it at the multiplex, she reluctantly pushes the handle and washes her hands in the sink. At least she did that. Damien ogles Bern’s round bum as she and her beau Peppi exit the theater.

“Fill up those popcorn bags!” Konrad commands his clerk Damien. “Friday I expect to make big bags at the release of the new rom-com. We partnered with our advertisers to increase the bottom-line. This one’s gonna be a game-changer. Make me a sign.”

“Yep.” Damien heads to the back office to draw and make more color copies of movie tickets on the company’s budget. 

While working on the sign, Damien’s brother Robbie calls his flip phone. Thinking it’s one of the many OKStupid ladies he messaged, he answers.

“Hey honey!”

“Damien, it’s Robbie, you dork.”

“Sorry.”

“Can you get me a job at the theater? Wally’s cuttin’ back my hours again.”

“Maybe. Hey, there’s this cute chick coming in Friday for the new premiere.”

“Groovy. Can I meet her?”

Image: a black-and-white cartoon of an Elvis impersonator's face, wearing a devilish grin.
Swarthy Elvis impersonator Robbie Hurlbutt

“She’s married. But I have first dibs.”

“Riiiight.”

“Hey, I got a free ticket if you wanna come down.”

“Do you think your boss will let me work with you? If you really love your brother you will ask your manager. It’s really selfish of you not.”

“Come down and see the film. Friday night.”

“Later.” Damien and Robbie disconnect…for now.

Peppi and Bern Cacca are loafing away inside their run-down shack in Manteno.

“These maxi pad commercials always come on when I am watching TV. This is Star Trek. Men watch this show,” Peppi whinges.

“Hey Pep. I got this handy-dandy new laundry basket. Would you like to come with me to the laundromat?”

“Why? Bern, I try to help and you won’t let me.”

“Oh come along for the company. You’re fragile. I can do it all. Maybe you can hold doors for me while I haul all our laundry in.”

“So I can watch? Yeah, no. I am busy.”

Peppi walks into his bedroom to get away from his wife, lights up the skunkiest joint he’s got and guzzles moonshine.

It’s showtime. In walks Bern Cacca wearing her accordion over her Peppi’s Portopotties shirt, bearing the caption “King & Queen of the Throne.”

“Hey, Bern. We have changed our mind about your advertising strategy. We think playing accordion while Peppi raps about portopotties is not a good idea,” Cinema-13 owner Konrad Teirant tells Bernadette Cacca.

“Oh, Peppi stayed home. I wanna belt some crappy show-tunes instead.”

“It does not take a genius to figure out that we both need to make money. Sing at home, preferably with the windows shut. We designed a new ad, and we think you’ll like it. It will play halfway through the movie. A new rom-com premieres tonight, “Steamy Love.” We expect a big bag from a big turnout. Your seat is on me.

Image: a black-and-white cartoon of a neckbeard behind a cinema counter.
Text: "Cinema-13" and "Peppi's Portapotties."

“Hey M’lady. Would you like some popcorn?” theater clerk and neckbeard Damien Hurlbutt calls out to Bern Cacca.

“I’m good, thanks. What a lovely theater you have!”

“Aww, shucks. Hey M’lady, Madame. What is this lovely lady doing when the film lets out? I can get you free tickets if you meet me at the Gaslight Bar.”

“I’m busy.”

Bern heads to her seat, excited to see all the theater patrons, and tries to make friends with as many as possible, hugging, shaking hands, and calling them “darling”. Bern thinks she’s everybody’s friend, and reminds the crowd of all the favors she does for charity and her enablers.

The film begins to roll.

At intermission, the new ad for Peppi’s Portopotties plays, interrupting a scene depicting two people kissing, and a prominent plot point. Will the lady choose her secret lover or go back to her husband?

Image: a full-colour cartoon of dancing porto potties, parodying "Let's All Go To The Lobby."

“Let’s all go to the washroom

Let’s all go to the washroom.

Let’s all go to the washroom,

And take ourselves a dump.”

The patrons run to the restrooms, but not to crap or whizz.

They barf up the popcorn, candy and pop, for which they overpaid at the concession stand.

Too nauseous to stay for the ending, the crowd of moviegoers leaves Teirant Cinema-13 in droves.

An angry Bern Cacca leaves the multiplex, worrying about her squeaky-clean image as a singing fool who raises money for the Manteno Optimal Club, and gives rides to friends because she loves to look good.

Image: a color cartoon of a heavy-set, middle-aged woman angrily walking past a concessions stand. A heavyset middle-aged man with an orange beard, wearing a black fedora is standing behind the counter, with the look of love in his eyes.

“Hey honey puddin’ — what are you doing right now?” the bulbous concessions clerk Damien Hurlbutt asks Bern Cacca as she passes the ticket counter.

“I have a date. I’m leaving you guys.”

“With me, my dainty queen?”

“No, you moron.”

“How about me?” pops up Damien’s brother Robbie Hurlbutt, emerging from seemingly nowhere.

“No, with JB, the Turd Burglar.”

Frowns fill the faces of the Hurlbutts, while a devilish grin fills that of Bern Cacca as she embraces the neighborhood Turd Burglar, who has been waiting for her in the parking lot.

Konrad Teirant counts his ticket sales, all smiles because he does not plan to offer refunds. He had made his big bag and takes it home to lie in it, spreading the cash all over his bed, rolling around in it and over it like a dog.