Tag: The Midnight Supremes

Somebirdy Needs Better Hobbies.

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

“Why are you wearing THAT? What is that thing in your nose? That looks awful!” a creepy – yet familiar – voice echoes throughout the the eaves of Gothic Diana Ross & The Midnight Supremes’ Manteno home, annoying the poor ladies who are just sitting down on their patent leather chairs minding their own business. Their stalker is back.

Wanting to find the source of their pest, the trio of slender black beauties climb atop the roof of their slate Gothic Victorian mansion, and briefly take in the view of their town. Illinois is full of small towns. This is one of them.

“Why is that stupid vulture asking us dumb questions and pooping all over her claws?” Gothic Diana Ross asks her bandmates about the bird trespassing on their grass.

“It flew into our wall today. Twice.” Gothic Mary deadpans.

A large nest is spotted, hidden inside one of the spires.

The shapeshifting humanoid turkey vulture hurls more insults at the talented sisters.

“Your hair is full of rats’ nests! You need a wax! When’s the last time you had a shower?”

“That looks like Bernadette’s mom!” Gothic Flo tells the Ross siblings.

Gothic Diana has had enough. She looks Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran dead in the eye, only for the stupid bird to go into defensive mode. Carla pukes up all over the Ross sisters’ lawn. Feeling egged on, Mrs. Moran tries to make herself look bigger by extending and flapping her wings as if they were fists ready for a fight. She looks like a confused chicken.

“Here’s your rat’s nest!” Gothic Flo says as she chucks Carla’s second home clear across Kant Street into next Tuesday. The ladies don’t like squatters.

Carla flies up onto the roof, and starts making demands. She clearly has no concept of boundaries.

“NOW I CAME HERE TO TEACH YOU GUYS A LESSON! SEE WHAT YOU DID? NOW I DON’T HAVE A PLACE TO LIVE. YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL FOR PEOPLE LIKE ME AND RESPECT YOUR ELDERS!”

“I’ll show you respect!” Gothic Diana Ross knocks the angry bird straight into the ground with a single punch, Carla’s long, pointy beak stuck straight into the grass. The inverted bird’s long, dark tail sticks straight up with her cloaca for all the neighbors to see.

The ladies share a deep belly laugh, and beckon their next-door-neighbor, the equally moronic Bernadette Moran Cacca to pick up her mother.

Five Things Bernadette Cacca is Good At

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Daily writing prompt
Share five things you’re good at.
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Nevermind me – let’s talk about the Manteno, Illinois’ very own Bernadette Moran Cacca – a communal narc-a-doodle.

She sings with the voice of an angel and has the soul of the Devil.

A proverbial wolf-in-sheep clothing, looks are deceiving.

Bernadette does charity work, pretending she cares, just for the photo opportunity.

A port-a-potty proprietor, she burns the port-a-poopies in the fireplace after lighting her farts to spark the fire. She excels at gaslighting in more than one way, because you know, she’s a narcissist.

She is great at pooping and does it a lot.

A master of her domain, she is a swamp witch who is great at luring in unsuspecting men so she can have a Donner dinner party for one.

She excels in annoying her next-door neighbors Gothic Diana Ross & the Midnight Supremes burning poops and practicing her kazoo cover tunes. She is secretly pathologically envious of her neighbors because they are talented and beautiful. Meanwhile she continues to pump out sludge like this:

Bernadette M Cacca
YOU’RE THE BEST, Undead Greg! Great to see you!!! 
Undead Greg:
Oh my! This is so much fun. Bernadette Cacca is a goddess. We’re taking over this joint! Thank you for all the great music Miss Bern.
Bernadette M Cacca
You’re the GOAT!!! 
Undead Greg:
NO YOU!

The Midnight Supremes: Stop, In the Name of Death!

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Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes sing a number during their “Stop in the Name of Death” tour. Diana tosses a feather boa into the audience. Her obsessed fan and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt knocks over a bunch of people to try and catch it, only for it to land in the hands of someone else: Robbie’s boss Wally Green.

MoronicCARS

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No — not MoronicCarts, nor MoronicARTS. What cars do these fictional idiots drive — some better than others? Learn more in these videos.

Sybil Kibble loves her Chrysler LeBaron. It’s the only person the Kankakee bill collector and Alpo connoisseur likes talking to.

Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes love driving their 1988 Chrysler Conquest TSi. Though it does not talk — unlike Sybil’s Chrysler — it’s a lot of fun to drive. And back in 1991, Greg Snyder saw someone going down the road who owned one.

Manteno entramanure, communal narcadoodle and bad driver Bernadette Cacca could be driving any of these cars. She just does not give a crap, because she thinks she’s above the law and it does not apply to her.

Brandon Allen Dixon owns an imbecile machine lot. Like the dealer says as he works the lot, “I own one of these babies myself. Let’s go!”

Kankakee Elvis impersonator, wannabe ladies’ man and vulnerable narcadoodle Robbie Hurlbutt drives one of these exact same clown cars, but in purple:

The Moroniverse Joins Carly Simon In Asking “Why?”

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Carly Simon’s song “Why” got remixed v a p o r w a v e style by a person named JenX and the Moroniverse joined in on the video hijinks!

Starring: Sybil Kibble, Damien Hurlbutt, Lori Brown, Carla Moran, Sonya Moran, Gothic Diana Ross, The Midnight Supremes and a bunch of birds.

A Rift in The Space-Time Continuum?

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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!

Moronic Murder Mystery?

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

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. 

A La Knuckle Sandwiches

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Gothic Diana Ross, leader of the Manteno-based cover group The Midnight Supremes, is getting tired of her next-door neighbor Bernadette Cacca peeling out of her driveway, blasting her accordion, and stinking up the air by burning poopies. Diana wants to have a word with Bernadette, who is polishing her wall-mounted Turd Machine, and walks over after she finishes making her poo-shooter shine.

“You have a very punchable face.” Gothic Diana Ross tells Bernadette.

“I have a beautiful face? Aww, thanks. I get that a lot.”

“A punchable face you dipstick. Come here, I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich.”

“Thanks! I love to eat!” a wide-eyed Bernadette exclaims with glee, mouth hanging open until she gets punched by Miss Ross. 

Behind the Moroniverse – Gothic Diana Ross

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As a tribute to my late friend Caroll Spinney — the man behind Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch — I am telling the backstory of my Grouch-inspired character Gothic Diana Ross.

Oscar art courtesy of Caroll Spinney. Do not reproduce..

Oscar the Grouch is not a bad person, despite what millions of kids big and small may think. Oscar just wants to be left alone. Like Oscar, Gothic Diana Ross just wants her solitude. Just like Maria knocking on Oscar’s can just to ask him nosey questions, Diana’s neighbor Bernadette keeps knocking on the door of the slate Victorian house which she and The Midnight Supremes share. 

Can you blame them for getting mad? 

A lifelong Diana Ross fan, I appreciate the diva singers most. Back in 2017, a few months after I left a toxic marriage with a communal narcissist, I met another diva online. Because my post-traumatic stress disorder was so raw, I would lash out at people whom triggered me so easily. I had felt like everyone was a narcissist after leaving one. Sadly, I had gotten very upset at a certain gothic diva and I feel bad about it. 

Combining my love for music, all things gothic and my friend Caroll Spinney, I created Gothic Diana Ross and The Midnight Supremes as a nod to some of my favourite performers.

Eventually I got to apologize to the gothic singer and felt a lot better. 

Writing the conflict scenes between Gothic Diana Ross and her annoying neighbours Peppi and Bernadette “Bern” Moran Cacca feels very cathartic for me. Sonia Manzano (“Maria”) is quoted as having said Caroll playing Oscar “saved a lot on therapy” in the book “Jim Henson: The Works.”

Hopefully my stories will help bring the world a little joy, and I get to leave the world a little better someday far from now when I am gone. 

Rest in peace, dearest Caroll Spinney. I miss you.

PS: watch the film “I AM BIG BIRD” to learn more about my dearly departed friend.

Drama Llama, Causin’ Trauma.

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“Is it stalking season yet? Where’s Sonya?”

“She hasn’t flown in yet,” Manteno, Illinois very own narcadoodle extraordinaire and port-a-dump proprietor Bernadette Moran Cacca informs her mom Carla, in from Manteno, Illinois to visit.

A thump is heard, likely from the bird deflecting against Mrs. Cacca’s Albion, Indiana home. The buzzard has landed.

“Are we going out stalking?” shapeshifting humanoid buzzard Sonya asks her family as she transfigures from vulture into subhuman.

“I need to cut down on my stalking bill,” Carla tells her sister-in-law and bird-of-a-feather, Sonya.

“I’m walking away from you now. This is unacceptable and won’t be tolerated,” Sonya berates Carla and flies off, doing donuts in the sky over a body of water and its surrounding structures.

Sonya eggs a guy on to throw a cat in the river, literally. She had been laying eggs by the water because she was bored and began chucking them, demanding the male stranger go murder the poor animal. Poor kitty was living at the bar on the river, surviving on the food in the trash there and the odd chicken tender or bit of burger the customers were giving him. Seriously, who the heck hates cats, let alone wants them dead?

Sonya’s distinct poopy smell, it lingers, wafting through air after she drops off some more friends at the pool.

A medium-skinned trio stroll along, new to Albion. “It smells like warm milk and trauma.” Gothic Flo deadpans. 

Gothic Diana Ross scoops up the fluffy munchkin after having witnessed Mrs. Moran’s histrionic menacing. 

“Sonya, the Indiana Attorney General is prosecuting animal abuse cases to the fullest extent of the law so I will be turning you in.”

 “It’s just a rotten cat, ya stupid nincompoop!” Sonya screeches, mad because caught. Then she poops.

“Fee Fi Fo Fum. I smell the turds of a big moron!” Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes chant, enjoying their mockery of the apathetic fool who tried connive a kid to murder that adorable little fluffball. Gothic Diana Ross takes the kitten to the vet clinic where she had just interviewed to get him some help. She names him Kevin.

Shapeshiftin’ Sonya flaps her wings in frustration and anger, squawking like a parakeet. Then she flies away.

“Another one of these? What is Sonya on, anyway? There is no cat pee smell outside my door!” the young lady thinks aloud as she grabs the lunacy letter her landlord left on her door. “Why always Friday? I had a long day at work and am too tired for this codswallop. She needs to get a hobby!”

Gothic Diana Ross sees a familiar face. 

“It’s Kitty Bee from Kankakee!” Diana cracks a smile and the two exchange some dap. 

“Whatcha doin’ in town?”

“We came in because I had an interview.”

“Ah nice. On TV?”

“No. A job interview.”

“Nice. Where?”

“Over at that vet clinic by the college. That…um…self-defense school? What’s a PSI Ball anyway? Those ads blew up our TV!”

“It closed.”

“Oh, nice! Those ads were driving us batty.”

“Yeah, did you hear what happened? College President Barry Reynolds got in trouble and they shut it down.”

“Nice. One less moron. Speaking of nitwits, you should see this lady down by the river. She tried to kill a cat!”

“What?”

“Yeah, she was like, laying eggs and pooping everywhere.”

“I need to get the scoop on that poop.”

“Umm. Yeah.”

“What did she look like?”

“Tall, lanky, goofy eyes.”

Kitty gets out her phone and shows her a photo of her landlord, who has been running for Albion mayor.

“Yup, that’s her.”

“I knew it! Hey I am going to do a story on her. Our city is done taking her crap.”

“Us too. That smell…”

“RRRRGGGGH! Thanks! Bye!”

“See ya.” The dark gothic beauties wave in unison.

TO BE CONTINUED