Kankakee supervisor, LeBaron driver and dog food connoisseur Sybil Kibble loves bills so much, she collects them. She has collected so many over the years at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) she was eventually promoted to team leader. Sybil is also the undisputed CRASS champion of the company’s annual Medication Pronunciation Competition, having won it every year since she started.
Kankakee bill collector and dog food connoisseur Sybil Kibble hopes you LiveLaughLove your holiday season and that Santa throws her a bone…preferably a milk bone.
Ennui fills the mind of Kleptomaniac Rebecca “Becca” Frickfrick as she foams at the mouth craving the next thing to rip off. After failed attempts to steal lawn ornaments, she’s now a free bird roaming the Moroniverse.
Kankakee bill collector and dog-food enthusiast Sybil Kibble is busy taking supervisor calls and reviewing debtor files at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS).
“I need a calculator, Miss Sybil” collector Pamela Frickfrick asks her boss.
Sybil opens up a couple drawers from the supply cabinet.
“You have your choice of this silver solar-powered one one or this green one with extra large numbers.”
“Nope, I need a graphing calculator.”
“For what?”
“My math homework.”
Before Sybil could shake her head, she spies Pamela’s twin sister Becca Frickfrick across the way knocking down company flyers, raiding the fridge and scratching her butt in the lunchroom.
“Oh heck no. Not my dog chow!” Sybil exclaims.
“Becca, go home for the rest of the week.”
“But I need the money!”
“Just go home and shut up.”
Sybil Kibble is busy loading groceries into her Chrysler LeBaron at the Schmucks Supermarket parking lot. As Sybil turns her back, Becca Frickfrick helps herself to random things from Sybil’s shopping cart.
“What are you doing?” Sybil asks.
“This is mine, this is mine, this is mine too…”
With one hand, Sybil swings the swiped staples back into her possession.
“Do you know who I am?” Becca stupidly asks her boss.
“An idiot. Now go home.”
Sybil climbs into her passenger seat to finish putting the grocery sacks into the talking car. Mrs. Frickfrick opens the driver’s side door, swipes the keys out of Sybil’s left coat-pocket, and begins to steal her car. Ten feet and one turn later, Miss Kibble successfully wrestles the grabbity hands off the stealing wheel, puts her car into park and shoves the thief onto the pavement.
“You can’t do this to me! I started this town! I AM KANKAKEE!” Becca cries out.
“You’re fired.”
“Eeeeeeeeeee!” Becca lets out a perfect high C like a teeny baby, cries in the pouring rain as Sybil drives home.
Back at work, it’s Friday and Sybil can’t wait for the weekend. Neither can the rest of the CRASS staff.
Collector Mary Grr walks up to Sybil’s supervisor cubicle.
“Where did all headset foamies go? I went to buy some out of the vending machine and it was empty!”
“I’ll look into it,” Sybil assures her.
Fellow collector Dale Davis beeps his watch repeatedly while marching in place to the tune of his last call.
“Gates are closed everybody!” Operations Manager Mikey Phillips announces.
The entire call center cheers and logs off their collective workstations.
A couple of staff embers make a beeline for the washroom while others make their ways to the break-room, only to discover a certain Becca Frickfrick emptying the vending machines after she had jury-rigged them to give her free stuff.
“You know, there’s a better way to do that…” Dale deadpans.
“If these things all fall out, I get to keep them, right?”
Sybil Kibble grabs Rebecca by the ear, lifts her up and and hoists her out the window.
“YEEEET!”
Sybil waves at the former CRASS collector and laughs.
“How did she even get in here?” Dale asks.
“We have no security here at CRASS because our wonderful owner Mack. E Avelli fired our guards during COVID, to save money of course.”
“Of…course.” Dale agrees with his superior as Mack is in the back counting up this week’s profits.
Sybil Kibble and her ma JoAnn take a meditation class at their local Buckstars in Bourbonnais at the annual Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) work ReTreat offered to combat stress from calling to interrupt lunches and suppers of unsuspecting debtors, by asking them to repay dubious bills.
Do you like coffee? How do you take yours?
Kankakee bill-collector and dog-chow diner Sybil Katrina Kibble had left her lawn sprinkler spit-spit-spitting, too lazy to care about water conservation, while she drove her Chrysler LeBaron all the way to Chillicothe to buy herself a sit-down lawnmower right before the race. Sybil insisted on winning the Annual Lawnmower Race.
Sadly, silly-billy Sybil lost the lawnmower race because she was too loopy from inhaling helium.
Too lazy to drive, Sybil wished to hang glide back home to Kankakee. However, she could not fly because she was too scared. This idea never got off the ground.
Meanwhile, Sybil’s spit machine went awry, flooding her entire lawn and that of neighbor Kitty Bee’s too!
Adding insult to injury, Sybil then she got chased by a swarm of angry kitties and bees! Poor Sybil.
She then left compete in Fire Truck racing with her Ma JoAnn! Ooh, what fun!!!
Kankakee bill-collector Sybil Kibble loves the taste of dog food so much, she eats it on her breaks and for supper.
Because of the shipping delays, Sybil cannot find her beloved Alpo online to buy.
Frustrated with repeated bouts with the Spinning Cheerio of Death, she opts for Brand X instead, reluctantly.
Hear this story here!
2. Sonya Moran flew the coop.
4. Wally’s machines go beep and boop.
5. Sybil Kibble loves to eat.
6. Damien Hurtbutt sure loves feet.
7. Shapeshifting vultures hate defeat.
8. Let’s go Brandon to the lifted truck meet.
9. Barry Reynolds plays his tricks.
10. All these nitwits make me sick.
Welcome to the Moroniverse!
Sixty-five year old Kankakee bill collector and dog food connoisseur Sybil Kibble wants an even thinner body than she already has, so she calls to order some supposed suppositories, so she thinks.
Sybil asks the customer care rep lots of questions, happy to be on the other side of the headset for a change.
“Do I take the blue pill or the yellow pill? Can I get my package marked? Can I take them with dog bones or do I have to have an empty stomach? Do they make them in blueberry? Lemon? How do these pills work, do they go from my butt to my mouth or the other way around?”
Then she orders a skid.
“Just don’t take the red pill,” JoAnn Kibble advises her daughter Sybil after she hangs up.
Useless pop-ups. “It’s like bubble wrap!”
— Sybil Kibble, Kankakee
“Surveys. They are like buttholes, everybody has one. Here’s my opinion: Stop spamming me with your survey sludge!”
— Gothic Diana Ross, Manteno
Pictograms. I can speak seven languages, and pictogram ain’t one of them. Seriously, how hard is to label this mystery meat navigation?
— JenX, teh interwebs
Ennui fills the home of the bill collector and and banjo player for The Haggs, Becca Frickfrick.
Since her twin sister Pamela got arrested for leaving her young grandkids alone to go out stealing lawn ornaments, the desire to seek get revenge has boiled over. Instead of, you know, getting a hobby, Becca chooses to bother people instead.
“It’s all them kids fault. They never work, they sit around on their phones and they broke our Frickfrick towers that we made ourselves from their LEGOs! Dang kids don’t respect their elders. Imma gon’ done teach them pert near a lesson!”
“Ma’am, this is a Buckstars.”
Becca seats herself while waiting for her pumpkin spice latte, and starts talking at Wally Green who is busy dumbing down his newest Artificial Stupidity Robot.
“I hear that Gothic Diana Ross has been stealing lawn ornaments. I’ve been doing an investigation. You know what that is right?”
Wally continues tuning out Becca, searching for the perfect computer voice, so it can to answer his pharmacy chain’s calls instead of paying humans to do it.
“Hello! Hello! Can you hear me?”
Desperate for attention, Mrs. Frickfrick takes her index finger to Wally Green and repeatedly pokes him in the back until he looks up.
“Oh hey lady, why don’t you smile more? I’m Wally, and very single by the way. Did you know our family almost inherited Manhattan Island? The pirates stole the deed from—“
“Nevermind.”
“Read it on the internet. Trust me, it’s true!”
Becca walks over the sinks to wash her hands, a wild bog witch Bernadette Cacca appears.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“6pm”
Thanks!
“No, it’s only 4pm,” the self-righteous narcadoodle, shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture Carla Moran says to her daughter Bernadette as she sits down at the table to drink her coffee.
“It’s 6pm, look at my watch.”
“You watch is broke, that’s why you’re always late.”
“Look up there!” Bernadette points to the coffeehouse clock.
“I’m sorry if I offended you. I was only trying to help.” Carla gaslights her own daughter.
In walks a slender blonde woman wearing white-and-purple leggings and a purple-grey shirt.
“Ah, someone new to harass!” Becca thinks to herself.
The woman gets her cake slice and sits in front of Becca, back facing her.
“Hey, did you hear about those missing lawn ornaments, Gothic Diana Ross and her sisters been going round stealing.”
Sybil Kibble turns around.
“Oh hi boss!” Becca sinks back into her seat.
“Why didn’t you come into work today?”
“You have no right to ask me that. Our investigation will be brought forth. You will be in trouble for stealing lawn ornaments. Anybody who stands in the way of what we want to get will be punished.”
”That’s nice.”
“If you want to get right with us, you have to do what we say.”
“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. Your contract is up this month. Go back to work. This is your final warning.”
Mrs. Frickfrick starts slamming her arms on the coffeehouse tables, slides her feet on the echo-y concrete, pirouhettes her way out the door shouting “I’m not coming baaack! Byyyyeeeeeeeee!”
“This is not an airport, no need to announce your departure,” Sybil Kibble deadpans.
The customers shake their heads and giggle.
A minute later, one of the baristas puts a hot coffee drink up onto the bar.
“Pumpkin Spice for Becca?”
Sybil just rolls her eyes and goes back to her paperwork.
MoronicArts 
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