Bernadette Cacca performs her heart out of her kazoo and accordion covers of songs like “My Butt Goes Boom” and “My Fart Will Go On.” Despite her best efforts, her butt-trumpet solo does not qualify her for a spot on stage at Kankakee County’s Talent Show.

“I had sung a cover of ‘Into The On-Hold Abyss’ at CRASS Idol and got NOs from all three judges after four seconds. I was good,” Sybil Kibble replies to the drama unfolding all over the talent show’s Fakebook page.

Having the voice of an angel and the heart of the devil, Bernadette is jealous that her neighbors Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes got a spot, the entramanure and communal narcissist known for her charity piano bar recitals did not. Sucks to be her!

Bernadette calls upon her Poopy Groupies to raise a stink.

Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran works as a sterile supply technician at an Indiana hospital, eating all the gross stuff off the medical equipment before it goes into the autoclave. She flies into her home, missing the roof again, after visiting one of her 10-plus “scadiate” nests around Albion as she says.

“Ana walks by me three times, that’s three times. Not once, not ONCE did she say hi!” Carla gossips to her sister Sonya.

Butthurt because people are not returning her phone calls, the evil shapeshifting humanoid vulture takes to the road to ruffle some feathers, since her wings are tired.

Carla Moran takes Sonya Moran’s parking spot. The residents of Prairieland Country Club Apartments For the Disabled start squawking about it while Carla is out stalking again, saying “That’s Sonya’s spot. She’s the manager. Don’t take it.”

Carla snaps, “Sonya’s gone for the day.”

”If she was here, she would be pretty grumpy at you.”

“I will just be a minute.” Carla takes out her smell phone and texts every person in her log. Five minutes later, nobody replies so she re-sends them. Everything’s an emergency to her, so she speeds off to Illinois like an ambulance rushing to the scene of an accident.

Carla peels into the Caccas’ Manteno driveway thinking she’s a street racer. The apple does not fall far from the tree.

“Take these sacks, help your mother,” Carla says to her daughter Bernadette Moran Cacca. 

“I’m not an octopus!”

“Here, let me grab them” Sonya says with a half-smile as she grabs the eight grocery sacks with her massive, pointy beak and sets them inside the Manteno Optimal Club.

Sonya Marie Smith Moran files a $4 million lawsuit in Kankakee County court against the Talent Committee, plots to take over the city and fire the current mayor since she’s still butthurt that she lost the mayoral race in Albion, Indiana.  Her goal is to bankrupt the city and ruin the lives and reputations for everyone who wins the talent show. “Winning is everything!” she exclaims after she uploads the paperwork.

Bernadette rehearses on the stage at the banquet hall inside the Optimal Club. People have yet to show, including her mother and aunt out rounding up robins, vultures and cuckoos to watch their wonderful lil bog witch sing at their charity event, hoping to change the mind of the Kankakee County Talent Committee and everyone else who contributes to planning the annual County Fair.

Today, people will not give an inch. On the way to Dr. Eddie Dixon’s office, Sybil Kibble has to stop and get labs drawn, no biggie. She stops and eats her Alpo lunch. Yum!

What is this water on her seat? The floor? 

Darnit, that screwy air-tight water bottle she bought from Wally Green’s took a whizz all over her bag, her phone, her masks. “Thanks, Wally!” Sybil exclaims.

After stopping for coffee, the covfefe continues over at Dr. Dixon’s. 

Sybil asks receptionist Pris Dixon for a mask, she barks “we don’t give out masks here anymore,” while calling back to Dr. Dixon to try and cancel. 

Thankfully a kind stranger gives her an extra one; apparently Pris had never ruined a single mask, ever. I bet she had never spilled water before and assumes other people do it on purpose.

Sybil sits down in the crowded waiting room amongst a group of mostly unmasked patients. Maybe one or two folks actually wore theirs. She sees CRASS co-worker Mikey Dixon get called in, along with Gothic Diana Ross. Eventually she gets called in and is told — guess what — her tests came back normal.

On the way home, it begins to pour. Sirens wail like a banshee. “Man, I wish they would turn the volume down on these fart-machines!” Sybil Kibble thinks out loud.

Sybil pulls over near the Manteno Optimal Club to let the fire engines and cop cars pass. Carla and Sonya Moran had smashed their sedan into a telephone pole out front. Rubberneckers look at the accident and stare, wondering what had happened.

“We flew over here to try and bring groupies Peppi, Greg and JB to YOUR show and look what YOU done!” Carla and Sonya bark at Bernadette, the Manteno Wonder. 

“Are these sirens just for me! Aww boys, you shouldn’t have!” Bernadette exclaims with glee at the loud, farty horns and farts along to the noise while shaking her booty as if nobody was watching. She’s not too bright.

Sybil films the whole fracas and laughs, excited to show her mother JoAnn and maybe post to Kankakee social media. Maybe.