If Pat Splatt and Konrad Teirant had a baby…
Tag: short story
Behind the Moroniverse: Konrad Teirant
Back when I had just graduated high school and was looking forward to attending college, I applied for — and got — a job at a local drive-in movie theater. Despite the pressure put on young folks to get a job, employment was not easy to come by in a small city about to lose a couple tens of thousands of its people due to Base Realignment and Closure (BRAC).
Despite the odds, I managed to get a part-time job working at one of the few remaining drive-in movie theaters in my state. The first day went well. My supervisor was impressed with my work ethic and ability to work with customers. He warned me about the theater owner; saying he will either love me or hate me.
The next day I met the person who would later become the main inspiration behind my character Konrad “Kon” Teirant, the CRASS Accounting Chief, Cinema-13 owner and Vaudeville troop Moronic Half Assets emcee. The theater owner put the skinny blonde girl up front to collect tickets, while placing heavyset and awkward goth chick me to work behind the scenes. He could not wait to complain.
“Fill that popcorn bag. No fill it up more. Does that look full to you? It does not take a genius to figure it out. Look, I don’t think it is going to work out.” Puzzled and stunned, I asked him what he meant. He told me to leave and not come back. I never got paid for the work I had done for him.
I remember calling up my cousin, crying because I had lost my job that summer I graduated. She called the theater owner “a tyrant”. I did not know that he was a grandiose narcissist, because narcissism was never talked about in our area. I wish they would teach about it in schools, the signs of these personality traits and how to avoid them. I also wish the boards in charge of school curricula would create reforms which mandate schools teach empathy skills.
I found out later that he owns a chain of theaters in the region. I saw him in a restaurant a few years later, bragging out loud about having been flown to Atlanta, and getting loaned an Armani suit to wear for whatever business deal he was trying to get, or “big bag” as he called it.
A few years later, I was sick as a dog on Christmas Day, and called into work at my then call-center job. I wrote a song about a character I called “King Tyrant.” I made a crude sketch of him holding a “big bag”. I played the song live a few times but it was not well received, and it was not very fun to play anyway.
In 2017, after having left an emotionally abusive relationship with a communal narcissist, I started writing and creating characters. I wrote a lot. I drew a lot. To cope with having been emotionally abused and being all on my own on the verge of suicide, I wrote short stories and launched MoronicArts. I drew my very first sketch of the now-renamed Konrad Teirant while receiving treatment for suicidal ideation in a psychiatric unit.
I can certainly say writing, drawing, and having zero contact with my emotionally abusive former husband have helped me heal a lot. I write to help people laugh and make myself giggle at the same time. Laughter is one of the best medicines, for me anyway and I hope to continue to pay it forward, as I would never wish what I went through on my worst enemy.
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Carrion On
Albion, Indiana shapeshifting vulture Carla Moran complains at her sister-in-law, fellow shapeshifter Sonya Moran, because she dropped a piece of carrion she has been eating:
“You just dropped that perfectly good piece of rotted carcass. You shouldn’t waste food! Now you’re getting that all over your feathers.”
“Umm, do you think I did it on purpose? I’ll wait…” Sonya claps back.
“I am just trying to help!” Carla gaslights.
“How bold of you to assume I did that intentionally. I bet you never dropped anything in your entire lifespan!”
“Okay, okay, okay, drop it already.”
“I will!”
Sonya steals her sister-in-law’s food right out her mouth, dropping her entire meal all over the ground at the Albion park, much to the dismay of her controlling sister-in-law and that of all the residents below.
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A Rift in The Space-Time Continuum?
That Carla, I am so surprised in her most unusual behavior. She started eating seeds and grass! No more filet mignon nor T-Bone, she’s gone vegetarian!
Bernadette Cacca, she got constipated! Bored with her lack of output, she took up volunteering at a local hospital just for the love of helping, not a single photo to be taken to brag.
Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes held a block party last night and played nothing but Katy Perry and Britney Spears covers!
Sybil gave up her dog bones and ate a bunch of carrots on her lunch. How nice. Her mother JK even let her play with her school-bus parts collection.
Wally Green invented something useful: laundry that does itself!
What is going on, anyway? What day is it?
Today is Backwards Day at MoronicArts.
April Fools!
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Moronic Murder Mystery?
Tamika Euforia had enough of people giving her crap at Kankakee’s Best Low Income Apartments. It’s bad enough renting from owner Madeline Topolla-Teirant.
“I’ve got to tell you something funny. You won’t believe this. I went downstairs cuz I heard a noise and I thought maybe someone had left the fan on which upsets my next door neighbor who lives directly above the party room. It turned out somebody was vacuuming to set up for a party. I thought it was the monthly luncheon so I asked if it was a potluck. The adult banshee gave me attitude, sternly bellowing out ‘no this ain’t no damn potluck.’
”I said to her “all you need to do was be nice, it costs nothing,” but banshee did as banshees do: had a blow out about it. She called me crazy and told me to go to hell, shoving the door in my face. So I heard her and her banshee enablers talking trash about me as they set up their baby shower, all decked out in pink. I went in the other door and I told them to stop disrespecting me. She goes ‘I’m going to go tell my mama.’ Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!
”Turns out her mother’s a good friend of mine told the the three of them to shut up, three of them a kind. Her mother was married to a narcissist like I was. I knew she had some trauma history, so I said I said I am sorry you have to deal with all this. She was the same person who brought me to my procedure on Monday with my so-called best friend bailed on me at the last minute.I feel bad for the kid already and she’s not even born yet. I also laugh knowing that I will sleep well at night and she won’t because she’ll be waking up all the baby banshee screams.”
“Who’s the father?” asked her friend Darrell.
“I was told it’s some dude named Damien. He’s that orange neckbeard who works the ticket counter at Cinema-13, the one owned by our landlord’s husband. He offered m’ladies free movie tickets over at the cinema where he works. Apparently she took him up on his special offer!” Tamika said while giggling.
“Where’s he now?”
“Last I heard he was at Area 51. He went looking for someone, Bernadette from the port-a-crap company in Manteno. That bog witch who moonlights singing kazoo covers of show-tunes for charity.”
Wanting to find the deadbeat dad, the band of bad banshees went down after the party and wailed at the last known place where Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt was seen, the swamp where they all hung out. Nobody was home, not even the bog queen Bernadette.
There they encounter The Poopy Groupies.
The Poopy Groupies thought their iconic poop-emoji Bernadette was dead, so they call Albion, Indiana police.
Shapeshifting humanoid vulture and aunt to Bern, Sonya Moran cannot be reached so she becomes a moron of interest. She flew the coop.
Next-door neighbors Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes all have an alibi; they had held a concert up in Chicago at the time of Bern’s disappearance.
The Poopy Groupies joined the banshee queens after to hunt for the lost Bernadette and the baby daddy Damien.
Undead Greg Schneissder became the prime suspect in Bern’s disappearance, the cops too dumb to know that bog-witch Bernadette is also undead.
The police finally reached her aunt Sonya.
“Bern has been in jail, did you ever think to check your records?”
Nobody involved in the police investigation suspected Bern’s rose-scented bum to be behind bars.
Meanwhile baby-daddy Damien, the world’s largest source of natural gas, continued to be busy expelling wind at the Alternative Fuel Source Department down underground at Area 51.
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Sybil Kibble’s Close Encounter
Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble has to go for her anal probe next week. Her friend will abduct her to see Dr. Cartman and she will be pretty spaced out. No, she will not get a satellite installed, instead they will just be looking for hemorrhoids on Huranus and to remove any asteroids.
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On the Corner of Wally and Green Streets
Owned by Kankakee barfly and inventor of useless crap Mr. Walter Augustine Green, these Illinois stores are best known for the overstaffing of their sales floors and the understaffing of their pharmacies. Find Wally’s wacky wares in a store near you!
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MoronicArts Classics: Rachel Shelley is a Sketchy Character
Two-timing Rachel Shelley came over from Detroit to meet her OKStupid lover, Damien Hurlbutt, only to cheat on him with Kankakee heroin addict and useless hoser Leon Peeonne.
Cinema clerk, neckbeard, and communal narcissist Damien continues to leave “M’lady” messages from his flip phone. He thinks he is going to win because he is such a “tenderheart” and “an old soul.”
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Where Are You On A Scale of Sybil Kibble?
Crabapples Don’t Fall Far From the Tree.
Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran swoops down on her Manteno, Illinois bog-witch daughter Bernadette Moran Cacca, just to waste her time.
“What ya looking at?” the communal narcissist, Bern, asks her raging narc-a-holic mother.
“Nothin’ much!” Carla replies like a schoolyard child.
“No really, there is nothing original about you,” Carla squawks into Bern’s face and then flies away back to Albion, Indiana.
Bernadette plots out revenge on her mother and everyone else who she has ever met, on a mission to seek supply after that narcissistic injury she received. Then she poops.
MoronicArts 
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