Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Chief of Information Technology, Fernando T. Perez, wanted drive to the office here in Kankakee with this vanity plate on his vehicle. Find out why did it not work out for him.
Manteno port-o-dump proprietor extraordinaire, communal narcissist and turd-machine operator Bern Cacca wishes she came up this idea first. After all, she lights her gas blasts to spark the poopy-burning flames. She enjoys watching the port-a-potty waste gleam in her fireplace, as she sits in her rocking chair, playing accordion while listening to GG Allin.
Bern Cacca is #PoopingForKaitlin (and Stephanie).
Sanctioned founder of the now defunct Mathew B. Johnson College of Intrepid Arts, Scary Barry Reynolds sees an ad for Peppi’s Portapotties on TV.
Thinking the gas stinking up his pet construction project in Albion is from a massive dump — residents pooping on the street — he calls on them for help, both practical and sinister.
“Peppi’s Portapotties, King and Queen of the Throne, the national poop treasure Bern Cacca speaking. What can we doo-doo for you today?”
“Do you know anything about gas?”
“Oh yeah! You got gas? I do. RRRRRRIPPPP. That was a good one!”
“Um yeah. I am calling you for help in the Turdology department. Can you come down to Albion, Indiana and sniff things out?
A flush is heard in the background. Barry continues his request:
“My wife his this “constrution”, I mean construction project going on in town, running until the end of the year. I was told we were blocking emergency access to the street. Why should I care if a bunch of junky locals OD on meth? Anyway, can you come down today, it’s an emergency.”
“We specialize in emergencies. Peppi and I will come right over.”
“Good, we need help clearing the air.”
Barry ends the call, excited to get the Caccas’ expertise in all things crappy.
After Bern Cacca finishes burning poopies in her Manteno, Illinois backyard, she peels out her driveway and hurries over to Albion, Indiana.
Hours pass, no sign of Peppi and Bernadette. Barry checks his phone.
“Umm, how do we get in so we can get the scoop on your poop? These roads are all blocked. Every single one of them.”
Barry texts Bern back:
“We are building 100 roads — all the more to block.”
An hour later, someone rings the doorbell outside the gate of Barry and Terry’s McMansion.
“Hi Barry. Peppi’s Portapotties. King and Queen–“
“How do you know my name?”
“You called me and told me.”
“I. Don’t. Like. That.”
Barry buzzes the gate open and the Caccamobile burns rubber across the Reynolds’ driveway.
“Park over there,” Barry demands, pointing to a crooked spot toward the end of the driveway, behind Barry’s multiple luxury cars.
The Caccas get out. Bern runs up to Barry, as if to hug a long lost classmate.
“Git!” Barry barks.
“Ooooh, I think you’re cute.”
Bern goes to hug Barry.
“I SAY GIT!”
“That’s my mating call. I met her in the bog,” Peppi Cacca tells Barry.
“She’s my bog witch extraordinaire! Entremanure by day, bog witch by night.”
“We met you there, remember?. Bern was taking a bath so we left. Can you help me clean up my act, I mean reputation? It really stinks out here.”
“Your construction crew hit a gas line. We only do portapotties.” Bernadette advises Barry.
“Nature is calling, we gotta go.”
Bernadette and Peppi Cacca make their way out of Albion, and back to Manteno over in Illinois, eventually. Bern did not get to burn rubber that night, only poopies.
Manteno moron, port-o-dump proprietor and attention-seeker Bern Cacca is in awe of herself as she watches the televisions at the electronics store. This commercial advertising her and her Peppi Cacca rap about doing their business at Peppi’s Portapotties is displaying on all screens at once. A sales clerk approaches the mesmerized Bernadette, only to get brushed off. So in love with her own image, Bern fails to reflect upon the fact that she is only on TV because she paid to advertise.
Listen to Dale leave a message for a debtor based after Sybil Kibble barfed up this silly idea:
Kankakee slumlord, sociopath and Vaudeville clown Madeline Topolla-Teirant struts into a busy Buckstars hoping to score some free java. “Welcome to Buckstars, what can I get started?” the friendly coffee clerk in the green apron asks a towering 5’10”, 300 pound Madeline. “I don’t have time to wait. You guys are horrible people, childish little girls and boys. Get my drink right and make it fast or I am going to go to the cafe down the street.”
“Okay, what would you like?” the barista replies with a smile.
“Get me a pink drink and make it fast. Not the orange drink like you screwed up last time.”
The barista cashes out Madeline; the bulbous clown and slum manager walks off to the side, away from the long line of thirsty customers.
Regular customer Kitty Bortolotti, the tall, curly haired, mixed-race beauty with the star earrings is next in line.
“Can I speak to the manager?” a confident Kitty asks with her hands on her hips.
Kitty winks at the team leader. “I don’t need anything, I just want to help you. Don’t let your staff be afraid of certain customers who try and intimidate your staff, if you know what I mean. I have experience; she’s all talk.”
“Customers like you are the best,” the supervisor says to Kitty.
“Glad to help.”
The two exchange smiles and a nod, then Kitty orders a drink alongside her best friend.
Kitty waits patiently for her drinks, meanwhile an obviously agitated Madeline storms over to the counter and screams at the barista, who has better things to do than listen to a screaming Madeline.
Kitty’s drinks come back. “We made you an extra one because we love great customers like you.”
“Awww thanks! You guys are the best.” Kitty takes a bill from her lime-green wallet and places it in the tip jar.
Kitty lifts the cup carrier, walks off to the side and chats with her best friend forever, Lana “LTL” Tolstoy Levitsky.
A bunch of names are called out: “LaWanda! Marigold! Damien!” but not Madeline’s. The happy customers grab their cups of joy and walk out the door.
Madeline turns to Abby and asks “What drink is that?”
A confused Abby looks over to Madeline.
“A pink one.”
“Oh I thought you had mine, we got the same thing.”
“Yeah sure.” Abby gives Madeline a dirty look and walks out the door.
“I hope they’re not clownin’ around with my drink!” Madeline thinks aloud.
“We made it just how you wanted it,” The barista says with a smile.
Madeline takes a sip and then reads the cup: “MADWOMAN”.
The entire cafe full of customers starts giggling and the room roars with laughter.
Madwoman storms out the cafe and walks behind the strip mall, where she is again greeted by the site of her best friends, the cafe dumpsters.
Bourbonnais cinema clerk, neckbeard and communal narcissist Damien Hurlbutt is happy to finally have a new girlfriend to impress with his lovebombing of gifts, Miss Rachel Shelley of Detroit. Too bad for him, he cannot see the thought bubble next to him, as she dreams about her other lover, Kankakee druggie Leon Peeonne.
Shady Bourbonnais neckbeard and communal narcissist Damien Hurlbutt went dumpster diving the morning after he and his part-time lover from Detroit, Rachel Shelley, got into a bitter fight and she threw some of his hoarded items into the dumpster.
“Dumpster! Dumpster! Dumpster!” Rachel cried as she chucked Damien’s hoard into the metal hopper outside his apartment.
As Damien dug for the treasures he loved more than his woman, little did he notice the danger lurking behind him.
“Would you like to hear the good news about our religion?” asks the elderly gentleman, sporting a “JC is the Man” tee shirt.
“No, would you like to hear the good news about the Flying Spaghetti Monster?” quips Diana.
“If you don’t join our religion, you will not go to paradise when you die.”
“I’ve died and come back three times and I am in the Rush University Journal of Medicine. When people talk about tunnels and light, I know they’re lying.”
Diana slams the door and gets ready to rehearse with Gothic Mary and Gothic Flo.
A knock is heard at the door.
“Go jump into Manteno Lake” yells Diana.
The knocking persists until the person holds down the doorbell.
Furious, Miss Ross heads out to chase her unwanted visitor.
Miss Ross opens the door.
“Oh hi Deeanna.”
“Is that a threat? Because I can call police–“
“No, you dimwit, that’s my name. Bernadette, you have been calling me by the wrong name since we were in third grade together.” Diana tells her next-door neighbor, communal narcissist and portapotty proprietor Bernadette Moran Cacca.
“Oh. I just wanted to tell you I have been doing these gigs to support the Manteno Optimal Club. I sing showtunes and play accordion. I am collecting donations if you want to chip in, since I know you love music, and it’s going to great cause because I love the community so much…” Bernadette rambles, not realizing Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes are slow clapping to insult Bernadette’s lame attempt at asking for money.
“Oh I am so glad you want to help! How much are you going to give?”
Diana closes the door.
Bernadette Cacca walks home and tests the crank on her window-mounted Turd Machine. “Pep, did you forget to oil the turd machine hanging in the living-room window?”
“No, Bern, it’s out of turds.”
“Oh. Where did they go?”
“Little lady, you burned them last night in the fireplace. Don’t you remember?”
“No, I had too much moonshine.”
Gothic Diana Ross looks out the arched windows of her home to see if the coast is clear, hoping to dodge any Caccas, and heads outside to board the bus.
Since her turd machine collections are out of turds, Bern devises another way to annoy Diana.
As Diana is just standing there waiting for a bus, Bern starts spamming her with unsolicited, incorrect information.
“Deeanna. This bus is not coming for an hour.”
Diana ignores Bern, enjoying her New Beat mix through her headset.
“Deeanna, it’s raining out. Where’s your umbrella?”
“Do you need to borrow one?” Diana sarcastically replies.
“See, Dee — I can drive you to where you’re going. I love to drive because I am a good person who helps the community.”
Diana continues to enjoy her music.
As Diana sees the bus approach, she takes off her headset so she can communicate with the driver, waving so they can see her.
“You know, Diana, you don’t have to flag the bus down. It will show up anyway,” Bern advertises her unsolicited advice.
Diana boards the bus, pays the fare and sits down in the back. Bern sits a few seats away, since the one next to Diana is already occupied by another passenger.
Diana exits the bus in front of a building near the garage where she dropped off her black 1988 Chrysler Conquest to get repaired, stopping to pause and gather her thoughts.
“That business is closed. Can’t you read the sign?” Bern nags Diana.
“Don’t you have a pool to crap in?” the 5’10” Diana says, turns away and makes big strides using her long, slender legs toward the repair shop.
The rotund, 5’4″ Bern gives up as she has run out of ideas, for now.
“What can I do ya fer?” asks the mechanic behind the counter.
“I am her to pick up my ’88 Chrysler Conquest.”
“She’s not done yet. Give ‘er a couple more hours.”
Diana falls asleep in the chair while listening to music on her phone, the playlist changed to heavy metal and experimental noise.
She restfully dreams, drifting off to outer space, not a soul around to ask nosey questions. The beautiful goth queen and the boss of herself snores every so slightly, lightly. As Gothic Diana enjoys her peaceful rest away from her batty neighbors, she is starkly awakened.
“Yeah…” a sleepy Miss Ross replies.
“Your car is good as new. She’s all fixed up. You owe us $1991.”
Diana reluctantly swipes her card, and drives onto the highway. It is getting dark on this cold Illinois night.
“Glad to have her back,” Gothic Diana thinks out loud.
Bernadette Cacca pulls up beside Diana in the lane to the left.
“But not her…” Diana also thinks out loud.
“Come on Diana, I’ll race you.”
“Get lost!” Diana exclaims, wishing the pest that is Bernadette Cacca would leave her be.
“Chicken! Bok-bok-bok-bok” the narcissistic Bern eggs on the unwavering Diana.
The angered motorist behind Diana driving the white 1980s Toyota is in a hurry. Diana moves ahead.
“Yeahhhh!” an excited Bernadette exclaims as she burns rubber.
Diana and Bern race up and down the highway. Diana drifts as she tries to make her way very far from the trailing Bernadette. All she wants to do is go home.
The two arrive at their Manteno block, Diana first, Bern second.
Parked in Bern Cacca’s driveway is the white 1980s Toyota AE86.
A young man exits the Toyota and asks the approaching drivers.
“Did someone order tofu?”
Bernadette grabs her food and runs upstairs to eat because she cannot wait to poop again. She loves to poop.
An exhausted Diana enters her Gothic Victorian home and hits the silky black pillow atop her wrought-iron bed, falling asleep as soon as she lays down.