Junk email broker, failed film student and nextdoor sociopath Pat Oswald Splatt ventured over to the Kankakee County Spam convention with high hopes to rake in new customers to rip off bombarding their inboxes with unsolicited commercial crap for fun and profits.
Sadly, Pat was disappointed to instead find Damien Hurlbutt, Sybil Kibble and her mom JK along along with people actually having fun celebrating canned lunchmeat.
Maybe the self-proclaimed master-marketer should have read the event advertisement more carefully.
After yet another long week calling up strangers at work, patients in hospitals and people just trying to cook supper for their families, Kankakee bill collector Sybil Kibble is feeling stressed and irritated. She works as the team leader collecting dubious debt for Kankakee’s most shady debt-collector Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS), and she’s tired of people hanging up on her.
“Out of dog-food again! Dang, I just bought some at Schmucks! How did I eat all those Alpo cans so fast? They must be making them smaller now.”
Needing someone with whom to vent, Miss Kibble goes over to visit her best friend and next-door neighbor, Mrs. Pearl Jo “PJ” Hulbutt who is busy meditating. Sybil barges right in and startles PJ who nearly bangs her head on the table, then tells her to “calm down!”
“Ah my boys have not come around lately. They don’t appreciate their mother and all I do for them! Have you seen that Kitty Bee lady? Her hair is pink now!”
PJ rambles on complaining about person after another. “Have you talked to your father?”
“I stopped talking to him years ago. You ask me that every time I come over. Why?”
“My father was not so nice. It says in the good book we should forgive people and pray for them to change.”
“He’s dead. His new wife was just as abusive, I hear she has an extra room. Why don’t you call her up? I am sure she would like the company. She’ll probably ask all kinds of questions about me! Go up to Chicago and spend a month or two to see what it’s like. Just call her after I leave.”
“No need to go overboard with your remarks. They are entitled to their beliefs as well. As a person with a daemon latched onto her body at the age of two that never leaves me alone, I understand fear and misunderstanding. I’ve been judged for my demeanor and nosey words my entire childhood but I still care and help others. I define me not other people.”
Livid, Sybil Kibble stomps back to her home, and eats her last dog bone; much tastier than the word-salad her neighbor had spit out. Meanwhile, PJ hops on a bus to find more people to annoy:
“Why are all these people getting at the bus at once?” PJ Hurlbutt asks aloud to a bus full of strangers, looking around for someone that cares. An enquiring mind wants to know. PJ repeats her nosey nonsense and adds more crap to her routine. “Look at that lady with the green hair. Does she know those tattoos are permanent?”
“I’ll tell the mayor,” Dorian James deadpans, making a cheeky grin while adoring his boyfriend Ant’s half-sleeve.
Sybil calls a bunch of friends, hoping to hang out.
Pyramid-scheme-peddlers Doris and Leona Krabalsky’s phones go straight to voicemail.
Sybil drives her white Chrysler LeBaron to investigate why people are ignoring her calls and texts.
Slowing down through the I-57 underpass, she seeks the Kankakee troll Leona. Nope, she’s not home.
Out of desperation, Ms. Kibble calls her hairdresser Lila Croule at her home-based salon, even though it’s a week too soon to get her face-frame cut, but sorry; more voicemail jail.
Sybil continues North toward Peotone to find her sharp-tongued stylist Lila Croule, hoping to trade barbs about moronic customers. After she parks her reliable box-mobile, she rings the doorbell at Lila’s front door. No answer. The RRRRRRGH of the lawn tractor stops and Sybil spots Lila trimming the edges of the grass using her $1000.00 hair shears, completely tuning out Ms. Kibble.
“I hope these folks don’t visit my grave one day, since they don’t bother me while I’m alive! Hmmpf.”
As she drives back home to Kankakee, Sybil sees her subordinate Dale Davis jogging on the sidewalk, beeping his watch repeatedly. Dale waves to Sybil and beckons her to come hither so he can confess her love, and she just drives on by. Her stomach turns. She then drives to Major’s Supermarket to buy her favorite meals: buys 50 cans of Alpo, with which she drowns her worries at home, glad to be away from the rest of the Moroniverse.
Kankakee bill collector, Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Glee Club member and self-righteous narcadoodle Pam Frickfrick is such a huge Elvis fan, she bought up every single dancing Elvis bear she could find. Her favorites have built-in sensors to start singing, dancing and farting on her co-workers every time they walk by.
“You know, I wrote a book, actually seven. I know something about money. Let me tell you about–“
“I just want to speak to your supervisor.”
Before Pam has a chance to talk the guy out of escalating the call, Lead Debt Collector Sybil Kibble walks up to her cube, chomping on a dog biscuit.
“You know, Pam, we are losing money because of you.”
As Pam continues to ignore her supervisor and instead bothers the person about his dubious debt, her harmonica collection, alphabetized, and her obsession with stealing lawn ornaments, the robot bears sing and danc to a garbled recording of “Burnin’ Love.”
“Hey Pam, I think we have our new on-hold music!”
“Just wait a sec–“
Sybil knocks down all the android ursids into a big box and yoinks them from her subordinate. “Get back to work!” Miss Kibble commands to Pam, taking the cacaphony chorus line to Operations Manager Mikey Philips for a little dissection and maybe some vivisection, too.
Pam begins to smell smoke, gets up, stares across the office.
“Who’s got the cigarette?”
“Go back to work Pam!” the entire collections team chants in unison, shaking their collective heads.
The Manteno Optimal Club joins the village in congratulating its new mayor.
Wally Green, drugstore owner, wacky inventor and newly elected president of Bernadette M. Cacca’s fan-club sits and waits his turn to talk about opprtunities to sell more CrapStraps, StrangleTangles and Sleevies in Manteno.
Other Poopy Groupies Peppi Cacca and Dorian James wait in the hall, as the room is overflowing. Kankakee debt-collector Sybil Kibble tries to talk the village into letting Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) build a second location there. After all, what’s better than one collection agency to hound you about unpaid medical bills, than two?
A very desperate-for-dookie-downloads Bernadette Cacca burps, then bursts into the room, belting her newly formed tune:
“Buy Craptocoins, they are good for you, made from 100 per cent, recycled port-a-poo!”
“Mrs. Cacca, you need to add yourself to the agenda first before taking the podium.”
“No, I don’t need any immodium, I’m regular now!”
The new mayor waves Bern away like the waft of stench she brought in.
“Where have I heard that song before?” Wally Green thinks aloud, then blows his nose into one of his monogrammed hankies.
“Who brought the bullhorn?”
Gothic Flo of The Midnight Supremes just shakes her head and enjoys the popcorn.
Also known as “International Thank A Debt Collector Day”, Kankakee bill-collector Sybil Kibble thinks this day is just keen. Next time she calls, throw her a dog bone or two to celebrate this uniquely moronic holiday (just not the Brand X kind).
They just show up!CRASS creditors love Sybil so so much, they call her on the weekend.Do you make these questions up as you go along, Mr. Denzel, or does somebody write them down for you?
Poor George, he’s just not a people person. He and Sybil have different tastes.
“Since that party last week in the break room set the sprinkler system off, the ventilation system is all jacked up. We need to do some work ‘round here and move some people”, CRASS Maintenance Manager Mikey Philips tells Collections Team Lead Sybil Kibble.
Head-pounding bangs and fart-like drills are heard, making it hard to get calls made. A smoke-like, horse-manure stench emerges from a cubicle near Sybil’s. Sybil gets up to investigate.
“Smokey? Why are you smoking? Go outside. I do not want to smell that.”
“Oh, they moved me due to the construction going on. I sit near you now. Nice boots, Ms. Kibble!”
“Get on the phones and put your butt out now!”
Sybil walks away and reads the posted sign: “CONSTRUTION – WATCH YOU’RE STEP”
“Yeah, they construe things around here: spelling and grammar!” Sybil wisecracks and steps back to her cube.
Sybil calls a few debtors and logs off the autodialer. The poopy stench continues to waft her way. Sybil clogs her way over to Smokey again.
“Smokey? You have not made a single call!”
“Oh, just one more puff!”
“Get to work! This is a verbal warning!” Sybil sternly tells Smokey.
Sybil grimaces at the loud pounding and drilling, as well as the tobacco clouds eminating from Smokey’s cube. She logs onto her autodialer and collects more debts from her clients’ numbers.
After a particularly stressful escalated call, Sybil logs off the phones and puts her head down. Tired and hangry, she smells the crappy smoke. “I bet she is still horsing around.”
Sybil approaches Smokey, who is slouched down in her chair, her ear in her mobile phone. She is clearly not calling her debtors!
“That’s the witch. Blonde hair, reading glasses, black and white outfit with heeled boots.”
“Come into my office, NOW!” Sybil orders Smokey.
“No! I do what I want!” Smokey shouts at Sybil and continues her mobile phone conversation.
Sybil storms over to her cube to devise a plan.
Smokey leaves for lunch, and to buy more cigarettes, of course.
Sybil goes to Smokey’s cube and takes her ashtrays, goes out back and tosses them into the dumpster. She thoroughly checks her cubicle for any other ashtrays. Sybil then takes her trashcan and moves it to her own cubicle, stopping to dump any butts onto Smokey’s desk. “Since she is not doing any work, she does not need this, hahaha.” Sybil hides the trashcan behind her desk. Sybil then takes all the cups out of the break room and hides them in her cubicle, in case Smokey wants to use them for her butts.
Smokey returns for “work” and plops her bum down in her chair. “Dang, where my ashtray go?”
Smokey begins to pace around the office. She looks up and down the office for an ashtray.
“Dale,handsome fella, got an ashtray?”
“Nope. Do some work.”
“Linda, got an ashtray, my sweet friend?”
“No!”
“Mikey! Hey my cool dude! Got an ashtray?”
“I am trying to do some work here.”
Smokey spends the entire day pacing around the office bothering people.
“Hey Smokey!”
“Mr. Avelli! Oh, Mack, you look so handsome! Hey, do you have a—“
“Yes, I have your termination papers right here. Now go clean out your desk. You’re fired. You have thirty minutes to gather your belongings. We will mail your final paycheck, minus today’s payday as you did not do any work.”
“Man, that cigarette smoke smells like horse manure! I am getting sick to my stomach!” How does she get away with it? I keep reporting Smokey Ashe to security and she keeps on smoking in her cubicle. I feel like I am going to heave!” an upset CRASS, LLC bill collector Dale Davis tells his team leader, Sybil Kibble in their Kankakee office.
“There is nothing I can do. I do not want to get in the middle.” Sybil tells Dale.
Dale tromps over angrily to Smokey’s workstation.
“Smokey, why don’t you go outside and smoke? The smell is making me sick!” Dale yells at Smokey.
“What are you going to do about it?” Smokey snarkily asks.
“Just go outside with that crap.”
“Let’s take it outside. I will fight you now.”
“Grow up. You are so childish. I am calling security to report your threats.” Dale tells Smokey.
Dale calls Low Cost Security, or L-C, CRASS’s security contractor to report Smokey’s threats. Of course, his call goes straight to voicemail. Dale leaves a detailed message.
Dale never gets a return call so he heads to Mikey Philips, Building Manager.
“Yes?”
“I need help with something important.” Dale tells Mike Philips.
“I am very busy.”
I need to report a security violation.
“Did you call security?” Mike asks, nose buried in his PC.
“Yes, call went to voicemail. Smokey Ashe threatened me after I asked her to stop smoking inside.”
“Nothing I can do.”
“So what are you going to about Ms. Ashe smoking in her cube? It is making me physically ill.” Dale asks.
“I see nothing in the security logs from L-C.”
Mikey moves the Queen of Hearts to the top pile. “I am winning!” he says with a grin.
“What?”
“Oh, I am using my peripheral dexterity enhancement tool. This on the job training application is designed specially for the mouse,” Mikey explains.
“Uh-huh.”
Smokey butts into Mikey’s office. “Are you coming to the baby shower?” Smokey asks with a grin.
“No, I have a sock drawer to rearrange.”
“Dale, my handsome buddy?” Smokey places her hand on his shoulder.
“No, I have to go home and clip my toenails. Busy night.”
Smokey goes to Sybil Kibble’s supervisor cube and interrupts her.
“Hey there, my lovely lady! How about coming to my baby shower tonight! It is for my granddaughter! There will be games!”
“No thanks, I am looking forward to my Alpo tonight.” Sybil logs on the phones.
Smokey walks over to Tara Bull’s manager suite.
“Hey Tara! You look great!”
“Go back to work, Smokey. Not interested.”
It is 5:00 PM. Smokey, her daughter and granddaughter are gathered in the break room, all decorated in yellow, pink and blue. Smokey is puffing away, wondering where her coworkers are.
“How many people did you invite?” Smokey’s daughter asks.
“The entire company.”
Two hours pass by. Nobody shows. Dale drives by CRASS and pulls in.
“Oh hey there my dapper Dale! You remembered!”
“Yeah, my watch. I cannot believe I left it at work.” Dale dons his watch and gets into his pickup truck, pulls out the parking lot and heads home.
“I cannot believe nobody showed” Smokey says as she fills the air with her stinky smoke.
“AAAAAAANT! AAAAAAANT!”
“What’s that?” Smokey’s grandaughter asks.
“That’s the fire alarm.”
The fire trucks’ sirens are heard in the background. Meanwhile the company sprinklers rain down on Smokey and her family, showering the entire party.
Cigar-rolling B-rolls Wally finds oh so interesting.
Sybil Katrina Kibble
“Scooby-Doo: The Movie” Sybil watches for the Scooby Snacks.
JoAnn Kissane Kibble
“The Nut Job” is the favorite of Sybil’s ma JoAnn A/K/A “JK,” since she, Sybil and best friend PJ Hurlbutt love to go out squirrel-watching even though the neighbors think they are a little nuts.
Bernadette Moran Cacca
“The Wonderful World of Dung” Bern Cacca wishes she can see again (and again, and again), because she enjoys dropping a deuce. Her favorite part is watching the elephants pooping and peeing at the same time. Here she sits all broken hearted, tried to buy but only parted because the stupid thing is even not out on DVD.
Peppi Cacca
“Dude, Who Stole My Car?” is the only movie Peppi ever watched, because it’s the only dumb enough for him to understand.
Damien Ulysses Hurlbutt
“Batman Returns” is at the top of this narc-a-doodle neckbeard’s list. Damien feels bad for The Penguin because he identifies with him. He thinks the movie is all about him as he does everything else.
Robbie Roy Gary Hurlbutt
“Bubba Ho-Tep” Robbie Hurlbutt binges on repeat because he thinks he is the reincarnation of Elvis Presley. He leaves the building to watch it because his biggest fear is being locked in the washroom.
Konrad Teirant
“Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room” Kon watches on his smart-watch, so he can find timely recipes to cook the CRASS books.
Judy Avelli
“Scream” has Judi enticed because she has a thing for Ghostface.
Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran
Carla Moran (not to be confused with a different Carla Moran) watches “The Entity” in a recursive loop, when she can’t sleep. Then people tell her it’s all in her head…umm…beak.
Mack E. Avelli
“Battlefield Earth” is the beloved favorite movie of the CRASS chief. He thinks it is the best science fiction movie ever made and that it’s a true story.
“Oh man, I want to see the new movie Aim High but the tickets are all sold out. It opens this Friday, you know, the one based on the newest Nora Roberts book?” Dorian James rambles.
“Never heard of it.” Sybil tells Dorian in the CRASS cafeteria as she crunches her dog biscuits.
“I want to see it when it comes out, but the tickets are sold out because it is a Valentine’s Day movie.”
Sybil has a few extra minutes before she logs onto the phones, so she searches OKStupid for potential dates, reacting to herself as she reads through the personal ads.
“41 year old man in Chicago seeks female. Must be 18-25 and love sports.”
Nope.
“Do you like big trucks? 21 year old guy, loves beer, weed, works hard and plays hard, no games.”
Naw, I like the occasional backgammon.
“Rare frog, last of his species, seeks woman of any age to give him a kiss. Very polite tender-heart. Age 48. Bourbonnais.”
Just a photo of his feet? A bit odd, but I can try I guess.
Before Sybil has a chance to message the stinky feet from Bourbonnais, they email her.
Sybil and the mystery man email back and forth. They hit it off right away. The divorced man complains a lot about his ex-wife, which Sybil tunes out. Sybil talks about her love of lawnmowers and dog food, which the guy ignores only to interrupt her about his “poop elves” story.
It’s a Valentines Day in Kankakee. The birds are chirping and Sybil is tweeting online about how excited she is about her new man and the mystery gifts he keeps teasing her about. Could he be the next Robert Stack?
It is 11:30 and Sybil is on the phone trying to double down on debt. Operations Manager Mike Philips comes by with a delivery.
“Flowers for Sybil!”
Sybil hangs upon the debtor and immediately logs off the telephones. The long, green and cream box, sealed with packing tape, came from New Jersey. Sybil gets out her scissors. She struggles for 20 minutes and finally opens the box. Inside are 12 longstemmed roses individually attached to the box by hard plastic fasteners.
Sybil’s frustration grows as her scissors are not enough to loosen the delicate roses from their restraints, so she grabs a set of pliers from her drawer after five minutes of searching.
Finally, the flowers are out. Thankfully, the potential suitor included a vase. Sybil goes to the ladies’ washroom, fills the vase with water from the sink, and puts the haphazard bouquet on her desk.
Sybil calls her mystery man to thank him.
“You just won Valentine’ Day!” he says to her.
“I did?” Sybil sighs.
“Well, did anyone else get as much as you today?” He asks.
“I do not know. I did not look…and I am not that impressed by gifts. I am more of an acts of service person. I like when people do stuff for me,” Sybil tells the gentleman.
“Look in the box, Sybil.”
She looks in the box. She uncovers a movie ticket.
“You and I can go to the opening of Aim High tonight! I cannot wait to meet you!” he says.
“You sound familiar. What is your name, mine is Sybil.”
“Damien.”
“Oh, you’re PJ’s son. I remember you.” Sybil tells Damien, remembering the terror that communal narcissist Damien caused by mentally abusing his former wife, Lori.
“I know, I know, I know…I will meet you tonight at the show, M’lady Madame. I have long red hair, an orange neckbeard and I wear a black fedora.”
“Right. See ya.” Sybil says to Damien hangs up the phone and laughs.
Sybil dials Dorian James.
“Yup.”
“I got a movie ticket for you. Aim High. Tonight’s the opening night. It is all yours. Have fun!” Sybil tells Dorian.
MoronicArts 
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