Gothic Diana Ross FINALLY discovered how to fend off their annoying neighbor Bernadette’s relatives, narcadoodles and shapeshifting humanoid turkey vultures Sonya and Carla Moran!
Hopefully Diana and her sisters-in-singing won’t have to flip the bird again, should Carla fly in, or Sonya hatch an escape plan from Area 51.
Bog witch extraordinaire and port-a-potty proprietor Bernadette Moran Cacca is out walking while taking a break from burning the portable poo from Peppi’s Portapotties in her fireplace. Looking forward to her accordion and vuvuzela gig at the new Manteno Cantina, she gets interrupted by her mom, shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Moran:
“Why are you wearing THAT? You need to wear your NICE shirt.”
“This shirt is nice!” Bern replies to her mother who is wearing a moo-moo outside, perched atop a tree stump.
“You know what I mean. Wear your pretty shirt! Don’t you want to look good in front of your audience?”
“Maaa, I can see your cloaca.“
“That’s it! I’m calling Aunt Sonya! You are NOT to show up tonight. WE will handle it.”
Birds of a feather Carla and Sonya Moran team up to go on stage at the Manteno Cantina, located in the basement of the Optimal Club.
“Where’s your makeup?” Sonya demands of her sister and bandmate.
“I dunno — where’s your dress? Are going to stand up here looking like THAT?”
“I am my costume. My body is covered in paint. Nobody will know I am not wearing any clothes.”
The Morans belch out a few tunes.
Food is thrown onto stage including chicken wing bones, the two vultures nom it up and fly over the crowd, pooping.
Then they fly off stage-right.
“And now for our next guest, Wally Green, the Karaoke Machine!”
The bulbous 60-something drugstore owner, barfly and wacky inventor walks over to center stage, a slow clap is heard.
He takes the mic:
“Fart your birds, fart your parakeets, gimme all your budgies, hope your birds are real.
Don’t try to fly,
Don’t try and tweet.
Gimme all your budgies!
Fart your parrrrakkeeeeets.”
“And now for our next act, two Bernadette Caccas in a trenchcoat!” barks the ringleader Konrad Teirant at Moronic Half-Assets Three Ring Circus in Manteno.
“Oh look, that’s the shapeshifting humanoid vultures Sonya and Carla Moran flying above! Look out, they just might poop on ya!”
The crowd covers their heads.
“Splat” goes the bird doo right atop Kankakee County’s number one Elvis impersonator:
“I wish I wore a hat…” Robbie Hurlbutt moans as the Undead Greg next to him munches his turd sandwich. He eats poopies to stay undead.
“Next up, flying monkeys! Oh my, oh my!”
“Bernadette, your teeth look awful. If you don’t brush them to my standards, you are going to get Pie-o-rrhea.”
“If you DON’T brush and floss 8 times a day, you could get an infection that could give you a heart attack.”
“East or North?”
“I’m only telling you this because I lost all my teeth.”
“Vultures have no teeth.”
“Don’t talk back to me!” the toothless, shapeshifting, humanoid vulture gaslights her daughter.
Bernadette rips a huge fart and lights it, aims the gas blast toward her evil mother’s face, letting her butt do the talking. She has a bad case of Pyro-hhea.
A fan-made video was made starring these idiots. Youtube ads are yucky. If you use an adblocker, log out of PooTube to work around the glitch. The Moroniverse will thank you.
“Don’t come to see me at my grave if you don’t visit me when I’m alive!” shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Moran passive-aggressively demands of her sister Sonya Moran.
“I’m just going to McD’s.”
“Carrion is all I eat. I am so tired of eating the same dead meat. Carrion, carrion, carrion. You know what, sis? I’m gonna get me some filet mignon and you’re NOT getting any at all. I will eat it myself. You’re not welcome.”
Sonya flies away and gets herself a decent, cheap meal; but more importantly, some peace of mind. For now….
After Sonya enjoys her burgers, fries and nuggets, she leaves the fast-food-joint in Manteno hoping to avoid her idiot sister who had flown in from Albion, Indiana. Think again.
“You forgot your shake!” Grimace exclaims as he runs to hand Sonya her dessert. Though Carla had been making air donuts the whole time Sonya was inside having her McMeal, she swoops down too late to miss Grimace handing back Sonya’s order.
Carla smacks into the ground beak-first. Sonya points, laughs, and does a little dance.
“I have a headache…”
“Good. Mine’s gone now!” Sonya says as she swoops into the air, away from her McMoron sister who really only came to stir up trouble.
“The Lifft driver you get sure makes a difference. It was like getting upgraded from Undead Greg Schneissder to Gothic Diana Ross!” Sybil Kibble tells her ma JoAnn “JK” Kibble as she sets down her phone.
“The LeBaron done broke down again? Why don’t you trade that thing in?”
“I’d probably have to pay THEM to take it off my hands.”
Sybil exits the house, waving to her mom whose bum is parked square in front of the television in her basement apartment, decorated with her school-bus parts collection. Sybil cares naught about her mother’s decor, as long as her rent check made out to Sybil does not bounce she’s cool.
The blonde, bespectacled 60-something collections supervisor goes to rage mow, she takes pride in having the greenest lawn in Kankakee. Two angry birds circle above her, arguing as they do donuts in the sky, taking a massive dump on Sybil’s head before she has a chance to cut the grass.
“It’s stalking season!” shapeshifting humanoid vulture says to her wingding sister Sonya, and then they fly over to a certain house in Manteno.
“An absolutely epic weekend in Bradley. Had the ENORMOUS pleasure of reading a terrifically colorful role in a nearly sold-out benefit reading of dear old friend JB’s wonderful play, HOW TO STEAL TURDS, along with a stellar cast (including BRILLIANT CARLA MORAN as my mom) and many visits to the ER for my rear with friends from far and near. Wow. Here’s to—“
“Hi daring!” Carla calls out to her daughter loudly bragging about lawd-only-knows-what to her drunken, sleeping husband Peppi, empty jug marked “XXX” just beyond the reach of his flopped out arm.
“Join me at Kankakee’s Best Low-Budget Apartments TONIGHT, 5:30-10pm! I’m donating 10 percent of what I make tonight to The Flat Earth Society.”
“No thanks, honey. Not now. Did you wax your chin yet?”
“I’ll go! I wanna ring the bell! I wanna ring the bell! Can I ring the bell?”
“Of course Aunt Sonya. Come on over to my charity auction down at Kankakee’s Best and hear me play kazoo covers of OKLAHOMA!”
“How dawg! Ooooooooooh!” Sonya sings, poorly.
“AND, I am donating an autographed picture of ME to the charity auction!”
“Ooooooooooh!”
“Does this lipstick make my beak look big?” Carla’s bird-brain wants to know. “Just be honest.”
“Maybe they will auction off something to help you with your Mamma McRageFace. Come on DOWN! We’ll have a BLASSSST,” Bernadette exclaims with her tongue hanging out her mouth wide open as if to catch a fly. Then she farts.
JB the nighborhood turd burglar and his lover Bernadette Cacca are swinging their interdigital clasp as they walk down the aisles of Big Deal electronics store.
“I miss the days when I could just type “format see colon” to wipe out a store’s computer.”
“You can format my colon any day, Justin,”
“That’s Jay.”
“Let’s go find some crap to get into,” Bern says to JB, one of many tools she has on her side.
CRASS Chief Cooker of Books, multiplex owner and Emcee of Moronic Half Assets (MHA) Konrad Teirant begins the bidding for the charity auction. Of course, bog witch Bernadette Cacca had to show up, as she will do anything to look good and cover up her real-life lack of empathy.
“What is that, a TV?” a citizen asks Emcee Konrad.
“Noooo, that’s a signed photo of Bernadette Cacca!”
“Who?”
“I signed it myself!” Mrs. Cacca brags.
“I’m sure you did. Now don’t panic, don’t be alarmed. This here car alarm was done been donated by Mr. Brandon Dixon, owner of Brandon’s Imbecile Machines! Let’s go! Get those bids in!”
“Now here’s a steaming pile of something, this mystery bag was donated by JB!”
Bernadette’s nose wiggles with interest.
“And here, how clever! A bottle of dehydrated water donated by Mr. Wally Green himself! I bet it has no calories!”
Awkward silence fills the room. Very awkward.
“What is this? I bet it’s essential, that’s right a bottle of essential snake oil donated by the Krabalsky sisters Doris and Leona!”
“And last, but not least, two tickets to see a matinee of your choice here at Teirant Cinema-13! Remember this goes to a really good cause! The big bags you help raise will help the manager of Kankakee’s Best Low-Budget Apartments get a raise!” Emcee Konrad points over to his wife and dumpster-clown, Madeline “Madwoman” Topolla-Teirant.
“I mean you got to have solid leadership, and she is really solid! Yuk Yuk Yuk.”
The seven-foot, 350 pound clown is not impressed.
Bernadette begins to sing and play accordion.
Sybil Kibble has been hanging out at a certain coffeehouse on the regular. A month or two ago she had overseen shift manager Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran verbally abusing her staff, making fun of them for spilling drinks so she decided to leave a review:
“I spoke to the staff and told them I have their back and that if she does it again, everybody should get together and ask Carla how would she feel if she spilled a drink and we all made fun of her.
A couple of weeks ago I saw Carla put her hands on a staff member while she was using negative humor making fun of them. I let the staff know that I had their back but this time this woman seem to be more aware of by standing up for them because she waited on me right afterwards.
Well tonight it happened again. I wanted to complain about it but Carla was the only one on staff who was in charge. Oh my God all she did was argue with me. She said she would hand my comments to Kankakee Police and I would be prosecuted for ‘defrimation of character.’ Nobody should abuse their staff like that. Don’t go there if Carla is working, she’s the shapeshifting vulture with the blonde hair.”
Konrad Teirant tries his best to hustle the donated hunks of junk.
“Last chance to bid on this lovely bottle of dehydrated water, generously donated by Mr. Wally Green himself! Did you know that he was born in Deerfield? It’s their loss because Kankakee is lucky to have him!”
More awkward silence fills the room.
“And sold, to absolutely nobody because nobody bid. Last we have this mystery bag, what is this? If I said then it would not be a secret right? Yuk yuk yuk. I’ll start the bidding at ten dollars. Just ten smackeroos will get you this brown bag of fun!”
Bernadette raises her hand
“Ooh we’ve got ten, now who will do twenty?”
Undead Greg Schneissder awkwardly hoists his arm.
“Twenty, now who will do forty?”
“ME, PICK ME!”
Okay, 40 from the young lady in the “Peppi’s Portapotties” shirt.
The bidding goes back and forth.
“Two thousand dollars to Greg. Going once, going twice…sold!”
Bernadette raises her arm again.
“It’s too late. Sold to the zombie dude. Now get this thing outta here.”
Undead Greg takes the bag of poo and chows it down. He eats turds to stay alive instead of brains.
“Now pay the lady $2000.”
“Buurrrp.”
Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Moran is busy filling out an order form for Quack Valley Cosmetics, using her beak and blood from a recent carrion meal.
“Hey, you’re getting blood all over it. You just wasted a perfectly good order form, now you should be ashamed of yourself,” Carla’s bird of a feather and fellow shapeshifting vulture Sonya guilt-trips her sister.
“Nevermind!” Carla exclaims with the wrath of Satan. She stirs up a hornets’ nest which attracts the local murder of crows.
Sybil Kibble stops on Kant Street to text, right out front the Cacca homestead where mother Carla and aunt Sonya are bickering on the lawn like three-year-old children.
The massive flock of crows poop all over Carla and Sonya as they caw, caw, caw.
“Now look what you done!”
“Look what you done!”
“I gotta go to work tonight and now I have to shower all over again.”
Sybil Kibble laughs her bum off watching the bird-brains argue who is the biggest moron, then she drives away in her newly-repaired LeBaron giggling and feeling giddy that the nasty coffeehouse supervisor finally got some crap handed to her, errr, dumped all over her.
“You spilled poop all over your shirt! Now go clean that up!” Sybil shouts out the window and then drives away to her home in Kankakee, looking forward to that rage-mow.
Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Moran does sky donuts over Manteno.
“Why fly when you can drive?” her bog-witch daughter and portapotty empress Bernadette Cacca asks as she dreams up new ways to con people with her craptocoins after getting out of jail the second time.
“Because it’s cheep-er!”
The two go back and forth arguing. Carla flew in just to bother Bern. Methinks they both need better hobbies.
Albion, Indiana shapeshifting humanoid vultures Sonya and Carla Moran decide to hit a few rounds of golf down at Red’s Country Club.
As Carla uses her pointy beak to chip a sharp putt and hopefully score a birdie, her sister-in-madness Sonya tries to screw her up. “I bet you can’t hit that, na na na na booboo!” Sonya sings like a little girl as she dances and mocks her golf partner.
Carla takes her five-iron and smacks her bird-brained sister straight across the forehead, then chucks her clubs off the ledge and flies away, down to the clubhouse for some filet mignon. She’s tired of carrion.
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.
MoronicArts 
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