Tag: We are CRASS

Becca Frickfrick is gone in 60 seconds.

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

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.

MoronicArts Classics: When Smokey Stinks

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

“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.

MoronicArts Classics: Favorite Flicks of the Moroniverse

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

Walter Augustine Green

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.

MoronicArts Classics: CRASS Company Classifieds

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

“Let’s make work fun again!” announces Clio Bersola, Human Resources Director and Glee Club president for Kankakee debt collection firm Credit Recovery Associates, LLC (CRASS). She got permission from big cheese Mack E.. Avelli to open up a classifieds’ section to all employees, since their therapy goat did not pass probation.

Leaked from the CRASS intranet, here are some of the ads posted by CRASS staff and their buddies.

CRASS Classifieds: No matter how long you work, an ad in the classifieds never stops working.

001 LOST AND FOUND:

Lost: My mind. Please help! Call Mack at 555-3700.

002 ANNOUNCEMENTS:

Wanted: The beast in my dreams…the one that makes them loony! Call Judithann Avelli at 555-FIND if you find him. Don’t tell my husband.

004 FREE CRAP

Free movie tickets for any of M’ladies who would love to adorn this tenderheart on a date to the multiplex. I tip my fedora to you. Email Damien Hurlbutt at connivingpimp@hautemail.con

006 AUCTIONS:

Auction at the corner of Wally and Green Streets. Half-ply toilet paper, finger ale, a date with Wally Green and more.

010 WHOLESALE, RETAIL AND WHATEVER:

Lifetime supply of Sitagin, Just like the energizer bunny commercial from 1991! $40. 815-555-0000.

Money for sale! $20 bills only $26. Call 1-900-IM-CHEAP. Only $10 a minute.

011 APARTMENTS, UNFURNISHED:

One room apartment with water, 1 3/5 baths, 2 windows, no pets allowed. Call 815-555-RENT and ask Sonya.

020 FARM ANIMALS:

The perfect animal for all your farm work! Many colors from which to choose and low maintenance too! Call the Parakeet Center for more information at 815-000-BIRD.

030 INFORMATION FOR SALE:

Underground alien bases! Flat Earth! The Deep State! Call Konrad at 000-UFO-RIDE to buy some information the MSMSG won’t tell you.

032 SERVICE FOR SALE

We scratch CDs, records and crush cassettes. Reasonable rates. Call Pat at 815-555-KRUSH.

100 VACATION SPACE FOR RENT

Swampland! Free port-a-potty with every stay. Call 815-0UT-HAUS and ask for Bernadette or just pay her a visit at night when she’s hungry.

120 AUTOMOBILES

BRRRRPPPPPPHPTTMOBILES! All makes and models of these teeny-weeny motorbikes. As low as $500, seats and tires extra. We also have plenty of lifted trucks to lift your ego. Call Brandon’s Imbecile Machines at 815-555-STINK. Free roses for the laaadeeeees!

MoronicArts Classics: Double Down on Dog Food Instead!

~ Jen ~ 2 Comments

Tara Bull, Accounts Receivable Manager at Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) in Kankakee, IL holds a strategy meeting with the chief cooker of books, Konrad “Big Bag” Teirant and Chief Executive Officer Mack E. Avelli. Tara thinks CRASS can increase their bottom line by using their synergetic mindset to implement the new increased production metrics.

“By making our staff work harder for the same pay, we will move the goalposts,” Tara insists.

Ms. Bull is Sybil Kibble’s supervisor. She asks her Lead Collections Representative Sybil Kibble how her team would best achieve those metrics. “My double-down tactic always works,” Sybil advises her superior as she munches on dog biscuits. “By telling our debtors to pay twice as much as they can afford, they will always pay more.”

“Get ‘er done” Ms. Tara Bull tells Sybil. “I do not care how it gets done. The ends justify the means.” A hovering Mack. E. Avelli flashes an evil grin and a thumbs-up gesture.

Sybil and her team spend the eight hour work day making the calls, even skipping breaks at Tara’s insistence. Dale none too happy, runs in place at his cubicle to kill the stress, checking his heart rate on his beeping wristwatch. Mikey does his usual cleaning, making the toilets clean and sparkly at his own pace. However, something does not get done.

“Sybil! Get over here now!”

Sybil hangs up on her angry caller and works her way over to Ms. Bull’s office.

“Yes?”

“You all are not making the metrics!” growls a livid Tara Bull as she chucks a pile of papers at Sybil. “Bring in the bucks or I will fire you all!”

Dale decides to try a different approach. He offers payment plans, and goes around Sybil and Ms. Bull’s hard rules. He finds his stress levels decrease as he is able to help his customers pay their bills and empathizes with them at the same time, as Dale was once down and out himself.

Sybil tries her might and cannot not double down to make her double bonus/Form 4 and metrics. She thinks to herself that if she could go home and work, she could call people around suppertime and reach more people. After all, it works for telemarketers, right?

Sybil drives her white Chrysler LeBaron home, logs into her computer and starts making calls. Not long after 5:30 PM, Sybil hears a knock at the door.

“Who can this be, dag-nammit?” Sybil thinks to herself.

Sybil opens the front door to her rather oversized house. “Hi Sybil. I am sorry to bother you. My cat Holly is missing and I am terrified. Have you–“

“Your cat is not here, Kitty, go away,” barks Sybil as she goes back to her typing and calling.

As Kitty Bee searches high and low for her dearest Holly-Cotton all over Kankakee and Bradley, Sybil’s Form 4s pile up. “I am winning! I am getting my Form 4’s! Gimme my Form 4’s!”

Sybil is so excited to collect all that money and make bonuses as a result via the Form 4 bonus and hopefully please her boss, Ms. Tara Bull.

“Man, I gotta pinch a loaf,” Sybil says aloud as she gets up, after her last debtor hangs up on her.

Meanwhile, a certain Miss Holly-Cotton, who has been hiding out in Sybil’s rather large house, needs a place to go herself. She hops up on Sybil’s messy desk and starts sniffing around. She locates a certain pile of papers and jumps on top of it, highlighting the entire stack.

Sybil exits the washroom after dropping off some kids at the pool. She immediately spots Kitty’s cat Holly on top of what used to be a pile of Form 4’s.

“Oh my gawd, get the heck out of here you little brat-cat!” Sybil shouts at poor Miss Holly-Cotton as if she had done something wrong.

Holly gladly exits the house of Sybil and enters the loving arms of Ms. Kitty, who is waiting outside after having searched all Kankakee County for her long lost fur-baby. Meanwhile, Sybil returns to a useless pile of forms, formerly known as Four. She has lost out on her bonus.

Sybil doubles down on her nightly dish of comfort food, a bowl of Alpo. Yum!

Excuses, Excuses.

~ Jen ~ 4 Comments

“Excuse me, excuse me sir, YOUR laundry is done!” shapeshifting humanoid turkey-vulture Carla Moran squawks at Konrad “Kon” Teirant who had fallen asleep at the Manteno mini-casino/laundromat “Spin-n-Sudz.”

“Yeah! I need a machine!” sister Sonya Moran says at the man who had ruffled her feathers in his sleep.

Carla continues to poke Konrad, who had spent the past week staying up late cooking the books into a mutated mystery-meat mess at the Kankakee bill-collection company Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS).

Carla shoves Kon into the slot-machine, causing it to spin into oblivion, make a racket and flash like a fire truck.

“I won the jackpot!” Konrad says in a startled haze.

“No, dude, that’s my jackpot!”

“It’s mine!”

The two avian sisters peck at each other over Konrad’s money, to which they think they are entitled. The love money more than Kon, and that is hard to beat.

The owner walks in. “Who let these stupid birds in? Don’t y’all know not to feed the animals?” she says as she scans her eyes across the mini-casino and bar. She picks up a broom.

“Shoo ladies! Shoo! Fly away and don’t come back now, y’hear.”

Konrad goes to collect his winnings, ignoring the warning screen right under his nose:

“TILT!”

“Sorry sir, malfunctions void all transactions. It says so right on the sign.”

“Wha–“

“It’s our policy.”

Konrad audibly shuffles his feet over to the laundromat to pick up his clothes, like a toddler ready to throw a tantrum.

“Sorry sir, we just closed. You’ll have to get your laundry tomorrow.”

A wild Konrad storms out the building into the Manteno parking lot looking for someone else to blame for his own mistake, because why take responsibility when you can just blame someone else? So goes the mind of a tyrant anyway.

“You stupid birds! You cost me my big bag!” Konrad yells into the Midwestern clouds at the vultures who had long flown away, like a wolf howling at the moon, or a pixellated coyote from a casino slot machine if you prefer.

Then it begins to rain.

Sybil’s Computer Gently Sleeps

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

What does the #computer of Kankakee bill-collector Sybil Kibble do all while she is tucked into bed, the cords from her machines tangling in the night, not a caller nor manager in sight?

MoronicArts Classics: Konrad Cooks the Books

~ Jen ~ 1 Comment

“Get back in the kitchen, this pot is about to boil over!” Madeline Topolla-Teirant calls out to her husband, Konrad “Kon” Teirant who is reading the CRASS company ledger in the washroom.

Kon washes his hands, flicks the water on the floor (a trick he had learned from Teirant Cinema-13 clerk Damien Hurlbutt) and struts into the kitchen. He sets the ledger atop a shelf in the cupboard.

“Madeline, I can do this myself. No need to tell me how to cook. Go on and watch the kiddos.” Konrad gestures Madeline to leave the room.

Konrad stirs the pot of his turkey soup. He made sure to put in loads of veggies because they cost less than turkey. Konrad hears a loud banshee-esque squeal come from the living room and dashes out.

“Bratley? What are you doing?” Konrad walks over to him.

“Waaaaaaaaaah! I want my toys!”

Konrad yells at Bratley because he has little patience for children. He only had them because he can. He usually leaves the parenting to his wife Madeline because he would rather make money. Meanwhile chaos unfolds in the kitchen.

Chanel # 6 and * climb up the kitchen counters, tear up the CRASS ledger into a confetti mess and put the flakes into the soup like they are special spices. They hear their daddy coming so the close the cover of the book back up and place it back on the cupboard shelf so they do not get in trouble.

“I told you kids not to play on the kitchen counters! Now go do your homework or you are going to bed without any supper!”

Kon begins stirring the pot.

The next morning, all of CRASS is sent a company email to announce the new CRASS initiave:

From: Teirant, Konrad (konteirant@crass-llc.con)

To: CRASS, LLC (all-crass-l@crass-ll.con)

Subject: Food for everyone!

Dear CRASS employees:

It is with great pleasure I announce the newest CRASS publicity initiave: Triple down on each call to raise money for the new CRASS Stage! If we raise enough money to name the Kankakee Senior Center stage after us, we can help promote CRASS, LLC as a community leader.

To help celebrate our new publicity effort, I brought in turkey soup, enough for everybody this time! Enjoy! Be sure to only log off during your designated 15 minute breaks to enjoy my cooking.

Most importantly, remember to ask each debtor for three times what they can afford to pay! Submit a Form 5 for each triple-down. Each bonus will go toward the stage-naming initiative to make CRASS look good, instead of your paycheck. You do want to keep your job, right?

Happy Monday!

Konrad Teirant

“Want some soup?” Dale asks Sybil. “I’ll spoon feed it to you,” a hopeful Dale says with a grin.

“Go away, Dale. I have work to do,” Sybil snarks as she downs a dog biscuit at her desk.

Dale slurps his soup at his desk before he logs onto the autodialer.

Operations Manager Mike Philps helps himself to two bowls while he watches the collectors stress out over asking for three times what the debtors can afford.

“Why aren’t these folks making production?” a stern Tara Bull asks Sybil Kibble as Tara sips some greasy turkey soup.

“I will keep on pushing for those Triple Downs and Form 5s.” Sybil tells a beleagueured Tara.

Kon sits in his office surfing Fakebook Flat-Earth pages as well as the Qannon droppings. He feels his belly begin to rumble. “Must be a quake of this flat planet,” Kon says to himself as he gets up.

A line forms outside the CRASS washrooms. Tara Bull joins the queue. “Why are people taking so long?” Tara mumbles under her breath.

A stench wafts from the mens’ room. Konrad emerges.

“Did I do that?” Kon slyly asks. The lined-up employees giggle.

CRASS Chief Mack. E. Avelli walks over the the office of Mike Philips to order fixed the toilet Kon clogged.

Since Kon’s idea failed miserably, he took the rest of his greasy, tainted turkey soup to Teirant Cinema-13 to “treat” his employees there.

“Ooooh, thank ya boss! Well actually, I just constipated myself by eating six antacids in a row so I do not have to use the toitie all night!” a certain clerk named Damien Hurlbutt excitedly tells Kon.

“Thanks for the information. Enjoy and get to work.”

Damien drinks the soup right down.

“Ahhhhh.”

“Puttt” goes Damien’s butt.

“Pardon me. Pheeeeeww!”

Damien’s stomach begins to grumble, really grumble. Damien gets up, ripping more farts as he walks and does the Scoot-And-Poot to blast as much gas he possibly can.

Konrad looks for Damien and he is not at the ticket counter.

“Where are you Damien? People are lining up and they need to buy their tickets. Imma gon fire you if you do not come back!”

A stench wafts from the men’s room.

“Nevermind…”

MoronicArts Classics: Karma comes back to bite.

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

“Where have you been?” Tara Bull barked at Linda Stay as she hovered over her desk.

“I had trouble driving in this weather and barely made it in. We got a foot of snow overnight and it took me over an hour to drive 25 miles,” Linda nervously explained as she set her purse and keys down on her cubicle desk.

“Well, I don’t have four-wheel drive and I made it just fine” Tara snipped as she berated the beleaguered Linda over her five minute tardiness. “I will mark this as a failure on your bi-weekly production report because attendance needs to be at 100%. You will not qualify for your hourly bonus this pay period. This is unacceptable.

Before Linda could react, Tara snapped “get on the phones!” and sat at her desk down to nom some breakfast burritos.

At 11:00, everyone could not wait to get off the phones. Yes, it was a dreaded production meeting which mandated the entire corporation’s presence, regardless of position, an award ceremony which invoked memories and emotions of high school assemblies. However, the collectors would do anything to get off the phones, even for an hour.

“I will get straight to the point. We need to increase production,” said Mr. Mack E. Avelli, Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) Chief Executive Officer. The crowd erupted in laughter when Tara Bull ripped one and crapped her pants.

“Did I do that?” asked an embarrassed Ms. Bull.

“We need to get more bullish!” said Mikey as the crowd continued to giggle.

“Silence!” Mr. Avelli shouted and the room went dead, as if you could cut the tension with a knife.

“Since nobody made production, the employee of the month award is going to go to the person who ranked highest on the quality metric. Without further ado, I present this award to Mrs. Linda Stay.”

The crowd cheered and clapped, that is everyone except for Tara. She went back to the washroom and filled the toilet, clearing everyone from the stalls and all employees within a 25-foot radius. Don’t light a match!

Beaucoup Bogan Spices

~ Jen ~ Leave a comment

“Did your brother Damien mop these washrooms? There is a lake everywhere,” Wally Green asks his clerk Robbie Hurlbutt. 

“Naw, he was last seen somewhere around Area 51.”

“Now I need you to cut off access so people don’t slip and fall! Put one of those plastic things in the way, those ‘wet floor’ signs so that people will bump into it should they try and go pee.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And when you’re done, I need you to set up our new spice-rack.”

“Oh, for our pharmacy? To hang up all our pill bottles, right?”

“You sound more like your brother every day.”

“Did you invent them?”

“No, Robert. They came in all the way from Indiana.”

Robbie begins humming “Indiana Wants Me,” tuning out his boss.

“Boucoup Bogan Spices. These babies have a magic ingredient!”

“Can they make me high?” the drugstore clerk, vulnerable narcissist and Elvis impersonator asks with anticipation, eyes wide as his sideburns long.

“No, not that kind of magic. If you make production, I will let you in on the secret. I hear they are a big hit in Evansville.”

“Why are you importing from Indiana? That’s a whole world away.”

Wally sighs, shakes his head and walks back to his office. Wally opens up his Tindling app and swipes right as much as possible. After a slew of rejections, this wacky inventor and wannabe ladies’ man deals himself a game of solitaire and falls asleep, dreaming up the next buy one, get one half off (but never free) sale.

Albion, Indiana Optimal President Club Carla Moran drools over her shipment of bogan moths from Australia. “These will make great spices for my business “Beaucoup Bogan Spices.”

“I agree. They will go great with those mealworms you have been using!” cries her niece, bog witch and communal narc-a-doodle Bernadette Cacca.

“Well, yeah!”

“I am gonna try them on the next man I devour when I return to my swamp.”

“YOUR swamp?”

“Don’t forget it!” Bernadette snarks at her favorite aunt and flying monkey.

Kankakee bill collection boiler-room Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) holds their annual Halloween potluck.

“This dish is delicious. I have never tasted bean sprouts so yummy. Usually they taste like dirt! These spices are like no other, compliments to the chef! Where did she get that recipe?” CRASS chief cheese Mack E. Avelli asks.

“They’re just regular bean sprouts. Cut them up like regular bean sprouts,” Accounts Receivables Manager Tara Bull says to her superior with a crooked grin.

”I just made these intestine desserts for Halloween. They’re really good. I made them the Dale way,” Dale Davis asks his supervisor and crush, Sybil Kibble.

“I just destroyed a whole bag of dog biscuits, I’m not hungry now. Thanks!” 

Mr. Avelli is dying to know who made the bean sprouts with the funky spices. He goes from office to office asking, hoping to find a way to make money off them. Someone owns up.

“Where did you buy these?”

“Wally Green’s,” Operations Chief Mike Philips tells his boss as he continues his FreeCell game.

“How about we do a big ol’ promo?”

“Do what you want. My wife made them.”

“Mike, contact Wally Green and ask that we co-host a talent competition. The winner gets a lifetime supply of this crack and a CRASS tee-shirt. It will make us a look good, and maybe Wally will pay back some of his debt. Get us on TV!”

“Call Dorian. I am too busy.”

Mike goes back to playing his virtual card game.

Mack develops a crossover campaign with Art Director Dorian James and plans to air it live on the local news. They are given the green light to air October 31st.

“It’s Halloween Night and we have a TREAT for you!” barks CRASS Chief cook of books and 1/3 of Vaudeville troupe, Moronic Half-Assets (MHA) Konrad Teirant.

Awkward silence passes.

“Get it, treat?” Konrad says with a falsetto giggle.

The crowd rolls their eyes and boos.

“Oh look a ghost!”

Not feeling the love of the crowd, Konrad moves right along.

We are holding our talent contest, sponsored by Wally Green’s and Beaucoup Bogan Spices! The winner will get a lifetime supply for these unique, and very tasty spices imported from Albion, Indiana. Sonya, what are these made from?”

Sonya attempts to force a big, cheesy smile, juxtaposed against her psychopathic stare.

“Out first act tonight is the Manteno Wonder herself, Bernadette Cacca! Get ready for her kazoo pop covers!”

Bernadette’s biggest fans, The Poopy Groupies, cheer, hoot and holler.

“I do a lot for the community! You guys are AWESOME! Get ready KaCo! Any requests?”

“Can you hum the Menard’s jingle?”

The crowd giggles and Bern carries on with her cover songs and finishes her act rapping about her port-o-dump business along with husband Peppi.

“We are King and Queen of the Throne. Come to Manteno and get your poopy on!”

Thank you Peppi’s Portapotties. Now for our next act, you will really like her, I know I do because she’s my wife! Give it up for Madwoman! I mean Madeline!”

After a slow clap, a large dumpster clearly marked “Peppi’s Portapotties” is rolled onto stage by an unseen pair of stagehands.

The seven-foot clown juggles broken records, scratched CDs and crushed cassettes.

“Hey, those are mine! Robbie Hurlbutt lies from offstage.”

Madeline chucks the busted music collection at the little fibber.

Thank you my love. And now our final act, Mr. Wally Green himself!

“I’m single by the way. Meet me here at the Gaslight Bar during Happy Hour. I will make you happy!”

Laughter fills the room and the airwaves. The bartender smiles.

Wally Green sings “Fart Your Birds”, a parody of Prove Your Love by Fun Factory. Bird tweets, squawks and fart sounds looped into the song can be heard on the playback. Wally sings and blows his air-horn nose:

Fart your birds,

Fart your parakeets

Give me all your budgies,

Point your butt and rip.

Don’t try to hide,

Don’t run from me.

Fart your birds,

Fart your parakeeeeeets!”

The crowd bursts into laughter, and tosses beer bottles at Mr. Green. 

EmCee Kon Teirant takes over. “Thank you Wally. That sure was…interesting. The crowd has voted. I think we have a wiener, I mean, winner. The CRASS Winner of the WORST Act goes to, Mr. Wally Green himself! Mack E. Avelli, throw him a CRASS tee-shirt.”

Mack fires away a CRASS shirt out his tee-shirt shooter and directly into Wally’s massive gut. 

“Any single ladies wanna meet me at the bar?” Sonya Moran and her favourite niece Bern Cacca run over, arms a-flailing, to give him a hug.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!