Trailer Park Vignettes: “Distance, Maintained” (Part Six)

  

c. 2026 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-26)

 

 

With his spouse gone, and other residents keeping their distance because of persistent lapses into self-pity and grousing about the alcoholic neighbor nearby, Linn Speck had become isolated. The trailer abode that he occupied felt empty and uncomfortable. He did not enjoy evenings spent sitting alone, staring at photo albums from previous years of marital bliss. Haki had been a cheerful partner throughout their marriage, but now her whole personality was different. She projected an air of independence, something that upset the balance of their household completely. He had always been unquestioned as the natural head of a faith-centered home. Yet now, seemed to have been kicked off his throne of gold. Not by chance, he thought, but instead as a result of interference from a lone individual with a bad reputation. Someone he hated more than any opponent imaginable. A divisive force that had been permitted to linger in their rural community for far too long.

 

He slouched in a chair at the kitchen table, wearing an undershirt and boxer shorts. Sweat beaded on his bare forehead. He could thing of only one thing that would end this unprovoked period of torment – judgment for T. C. Lincoln, and a physical expulsion to follow. That alone would bring him peace, and justice.

 

Finally, he could bear no more of this mental torture. With determination swelling in his chest, he dressed in olive-drab fatigues, stuffed a vintage, Beretta M9 pistol under his waistband, and picked up a baseball bat. With a marching cadence, he walked the short distance between his corner dwelling, and Lot 13. There he was certain that his foe would be outside on the front porch, and inebriated beyond comprehension. The moment for doubt and sorrow had passed. He wanted to take action, and rid the park of a menace that no one would miss, in the aftermath.

 

Linn was out of shape from years of loafing at Evergreen Estates, in between brief periods of gainful employment. So, his high-stepping jaunt left him breathless and panting for air. But it quickened his pulse, and inspired a feeling of confidence. He was sure that being rid of the dirty boozer would pay dividends for weeks and months to come. It might even reassert his dominance as a leader in their blue-collar neighborhood. That was something he craved perhaps even more than the return of his estranged spouse.

 

Upon reaching the target destination in short order, a guttural burst of snoring filled his ears. The reclusive hermit had already passed out from an afternoon of imbibing Kentucky bourbon. He slobbered and spat with his eyes still closed. Mucous dribbled from his gray beard.

 

The failed association head raised his bat defiantly, and shouted a sarcastic greeting.

 

“WAKE UP LINK, I’M ABOUT TO SETTLE THE SCORE FOR WHAT YOU DID WITH YOUR CANE!”

 

The sports implement nearly flew from his hands, but stayed on track. Its hefty design caught the snoozing senior square on his jaw. The blow could be heard all up and down their street.

 

Lincoln was already dazed, so despite being bashed in the face, he barely reacted to this frontal assault.

 

“Whatdafuggggggg? Hey, who the hell... what the hell... dammit, quit swinging for the fences!”

 

Linn stood with a cocky flaring of his nostrils signaling violent intentions.

 

“THIS IS NO JOKE, YOU SORRY BASTARD! STAND UP AND TAKE YOUR LUMPS LIKE A MAN! YOU SCREWED ME OUT OF MY HAPPY HOME, SO NOW I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR REAR END! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? THIS IS NOT A DRILL, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH! I’M GOING TO FINISH THE JOB RIGHT HERE AND NOW!”

 

The alcoholic contrarian struggled to comprehend what was happening. He could barely focus his eyes.

 

“Dude, you’re out of control! I never talked any shit to your wife, maybe she got tired of all the crying about that association and your summer picnics. If people don’t really want to hang out with your ass, I’d say that’s a good call on their part. Let it ride, man! Go back to your piss beer and trading cards. She’ll come home when the money runs out, cut her some slack. She probably needed a breather after being married to you for so long!”

 

The portly, balding fellow reddened with irritation. He took another swat with the baseball bat.

 

“LINK, YOU’RE A DUMBASS! DID YOU THINK I WOULDN’T KNOW THAT SHE CAME UP HERE TO APOLOGIZE FOR ME? WHATEVER YOU TOLD HER MUST’VE GOTTEN THE BALL ROLLING! I’VE NEVER SEEN HER BEHAVE LIKE THIS, SHE’S ALWAYS BEEN A GOOD, CHRISTIAN WOMAN. NOW THAT LADY HAS GONE OFF THE RAILS! IT’S A DAMN SHAME TO SEE THE DEVIL GET HIS DUE! BUT I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT, BECAUSE YOU ARE GONNA GET YOURS, TOO!”

 

Lincoln sputtered a mouthful of liquor. It spewed all over his black T-shirt.

 

“Go home, neighbor. She’s probably back home and waiting for you right now!”

 

With mechanical reflexes, Linn slipped the pistol out of his pants. It felt cool and solid in his fingers. Automatically, he raised the weapon and took aim.

 

“THIS IS IT, MOTHER-EFFER! YOU’RE DONE, OLD FART! DONE, DONE, DONE!”

 

He squeezed the trigger with glee, but nothing happened. He had forgotten to load any ammunition.

 

Laughter bellowed as the contrarian drunk fell back on his seat. His face had turned pale, but now began to regain some of its natural color.

 

“Gawdamn, bruh, you’re a mess! No bullets in that clip? Shit, I suppose you were in a hurry to get over here. I’ll call it an act of God though, at least you won’t be spending tonight in the safety center. Sheriff Rath has enough work to do, he don’t need another case to handle...”

 

Linn stomped his feet like a disappointed child. He threw the weapon impulsively, and then kicked at his baseball bat.

 

“YOU’RE THE LUCKIEST ASSHOLE I EVER MET, TOWNSHEND LINCOLN! I SWEAR THAT YOU’VE GOT NINE LIVES LIKE A FREAKING CAT! DAMN YOU TO HELL! DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU, DAMN YOUUUUUU!”

 

Lincoln reopened his liquor jug, and took a long pull of brown juice. The burn made his eyes water, but felt good settling in his gut. Then, he looked up at the clear, blue sky.

 

“I owe you one, Heavenly Father. I’ve heard people say that you take care of babies and fools. Well, look after that boy, will you? Cause he ain’t right!”

Trailer Park Vignettes: “Distance, Maintained” (Part Five)

  

c. 2026 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-26)

 

 

T. C. Lincoln paid little attention to anyone else at Evergreen Estates. He had been in the isolated village of mobile homes for so long that his immediate environment was now completely invisible. He followed a life routine centered on waking at sunrise, having coffee at his desk while working throughout the morning, and then pursuing the fine art of drunkenness, once the noon hour had arrived. From that point, inebriation clouded his perception of everything that followed. He would sometimes dive deeply into the liquor, so far that oblivion became his only target. Or, when merely tipsy and more aware, he might engage in brief conversations with neighbors who passed by on foot. Occasionally, trips to his refrigerator and cupboards yielded snacks to satisfy cravings aroused by the wash of alcohol. Every episode ended at a similar place, however. Whether outside on his wooden bench, on the floor of his living room, or even in bed, he would pass out for the night and snore until all of the booze had exited his bloodstream.

 

But on a quiet Sunday, he noted that the ratty, Japanese sedan of Linn Speck was missing from its normal place on the corner. While not necessarily a sign of any calamity within the household, there was an air of mystery involved. Because it had also been absent, the day before. And even prior to that, during the week. As if it had broken down and been towed away, or perhaps driven to some distant location where the vehicle still remained.

 

Feeling curious, the old contrarian took out his cellular device from a hoodie pocket. He visited groups on social media platforms that connected residents of the park for informational purposes, and saw a post advertising a singlewide hovel for sale. The architecture and faded, brown hue were strangely familiar. A paragraph of text, included below this image, explained the connection in more detail.

 

“For sale, a 1976 Schult with the bay window up front. Great location, on a lot with a big yard and extra space around the corner. A large barn beside the front steps, for lots of storage. Trees and decorative boulders around the perimeter. A steal at $16,000.00 cash! Contact the park manager for more information. Current resident has owned it for a dozen years...”

 

Lincoln felt his pulse quicken in response.

 

“Shit, is that the bald dumbass who wanted to be king of this sorry sinkhole?”

 

A bit of scrolling through sites related to the junkyard oasis revealed that the boxcar abode had been available for about one week. An odd development with no obvious signs of the portly, balding fellow moving out with his wife. Lawn furniture and a kettle grill were still visible, around the exterior. The grass had not grown wild from neglect. There were no signs placed in the windows, for a realtor.

 

Perhaps the advert had been a desperate plea, following some sort of marital episode? He could not be certain without more facts. Though a natural predisposition to being uninterested in any of his neighbors made this chore difficult. Finally, he reached out to Darby Stronelli, who lived on his eastern flank. The short, butch female was high-strung and always preoccupied with busybody gossip. Therefore, she was most likely to know what happened behind those closed doors.

 

Reluctantly, Lincoln tapped the Messenger icon on his phone, and sent a brief request for edification.

 

“Hey Darb, hope you’re good over there. Any idea why Linn would be dumping his shack? I just saw the blurb on our Evergreen E. Residents page...”

 

A reaction came swiftly. The shrill, spiky-haired femme sent a string of laughing emojis. Then text typed out in all caps.

 

“HEY BUDDY! I AIN’T HEARD FROM YOU IN A LONG DAMN TIME! AND I HAVEN’T! YOU USED TO COME OVER FOR BEERS AND TO HANG OUT, I MISS THOSE DAYS!”

 

The reclusive hermit scratched his beard and groaned.

 

“Right, I get it. Walking is difficult at the moment, my legs are shot. But anyway, do you have a clue about what happened with the Speck fam?”

 

Darby did not answer right away. But eventually sent a different emoji, one with wide eyes and a look of concern.

 

“HEY, YOU DIDN’T CATCH THE WAVE ON THAT? THERE WAS A BIG FIGHT I GUESS. WE COULD HEAR IT FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF MY TRAILER. YOU KNOW, THERE’S A SECOND PORCH IN THE BACK. I SIT OUT THERE SOMETIMES WITH A BUD LIGHT. THOSE TWO WERE SCREAMING AT EACH OTHER, I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. THEN SHE TOOK THEIR CAR AND LEFT.  AFTER THAT, HE CAME OVER TO PLAY POOL IN MY PARTY BARN AND GRUMBLE ABOUT HIS MARRIAGE. I DIDN’T REALLY WANNA HEAR IT, YOU KNOW. BUT THEN HE BLAMED IT ALL ON YOU! THAT MADE ME PERK UP MY EARS. HE ALWAYS BLAMES EVERYTHING ON YOU!”

 

Lincoln needed a swig of Kentucky bourbon to steady his mood.

 

“How would I be responsible for her bugging out of their dwelling? That makes no sense at all, Darb! Not a damn bit of sense!”

 

The nosey neighbor must have been giggling at her wireless device. More laughing faces appeared on the display screen.

 

“Linn thought you probably put bad ideas in her head. You know, talked her into going on a cross-country run like Thelma and Louise. But by herself, instead. He thinks you’d like to steal her away, which made me laugh out loud. I know better ‘n that, and I do! How the hell would you steal anyone, when you never leave that trailer? I thought it was freaking funny!”

 

Her contact next door felt his stomach turning nauseous. He wanted more whiskey to settle his restless innards.

 

“Linn is a gawdamn fool. I’ve already been divorced twice, that’s enough punishment for me. My ass is still bruised from the last trip to county court...”

 

Darby reacted with a string of unrelated symbols, punctuated with a fist emoji.

 

“I GET IT OLD FART, AND I DO! WE’VE BEEN KNOWING EACH OTHER A LONG TIME. BUT YOU KNOW HOW THAT GUY IS, I COULDN’T TALK ANY SENSE INTO HIM. HE’S GOOD COMPANY FOR DRINKING AND PLAYING GAMES THOUGH, ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU WON’T COME OVER NO MORE! I’D RATHER HAVE YOU HERE, TO PLAY DARTS AND LISTEN TO MUSIC!”

 

The shaggy iconoclast sighed to himself, and put the phone back in his pocket.

 

“Haki has more sense than I do, at least she got out of here. If I had been that smart, this place would’ve gone up in flames a long time ago, and I could be getting drunk on the beach, somewhere!”

Trailer Park Vignettes: “Distance, Maintained” (Part Four)

c. 2026 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-26)

 

 

T. C. Lincoln had a restless bout of sleep after his unexpected encounter with Haki Speck. He tossed from side to side in his bed until the all the sheets and comforters had been pulled sideways, to the floor. Pillows were scattered around the small, crowded room. His C-PAP machine lost its hose, and blew a stream of air uselessly at the window. Images of his neighbor taunted him throughout the night. Cackling, cooing, giggling, pleading for affection, even chasing him through the darkness in lingerie that was completely inappropriate.

 

By morning, he was a wreck.

 

Instead of having a traditional breakfast with coffee, he went outside to the front porch where it was already 68 degrees. At his side was a large bottle of Kentucky bourbon. Upon popping the cork, and quenching his thirst, things began to regain their focus. His trembling hands became steady once more. He felt a sense of gyroscopic balance returning. A pleasant buzz of inebriation swelled in his head. Then, he slouched on the wooden bench.

 

The normal rush-hour of rusty trucks and cars heading off to work had already passed. So, a quiet mood took hold at Evergreen Estates. He listened to leafy branches swaying in the breeze, nearby. And his own wind chimes ringing out joyfully at the start of another day.

 

But from down the street, at its front corner, came a racket of marital unrest. Muffled shouting and breaking furniture could be heard above the usual sounds of a waking population. A persistent thudding and thumping of interpersonal combat filled his ears. Some sort of woeful exchange was transpiring, a few lots away. He sat on the edge of his perch, listening and looking for clues, while sipping the brown swill. Then, the origin of this uneasy display presented itself, directly. At the weathered, singlewide home of Linn and Haki Speck, their front door came off of its hinges and landed in the driveway.

 

Loud cursing followed this violent burst of destruction. It was punctuated by the shriek of a woman’s voice, groaning and sobbing with emotion.

 

“Honey, I told you what was going to happen yesterday! It couldn’t have been a surprise! You just didn’t think I had the courage, that’s all. You didn’t think I would really make peace with our neighbor at Lot 13!”

 

Linn was in his white undershirt and plaid, boxer shorts. He stood in the open doorway and shook his fists.

 

“YOU WENT OVER THERE TO APOLOGIZE! TO APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT, I ASK? TOWNSHEND LINCOLN IS AN ANTI-SOCIAL FREAK, TO PUT IT MILDLY! HE’S A MENACE IN THIS COMMUNITY, AND HIS BOXCAR HOVEL IS AN EYESORE! HE REEKS OF WHISKEY AND BEER, NOT TO MENTION THE ODOR OF SOMEONE WHO MUST NOT BATHE FOR WEEKS AT A TIME! HE IS GRITTY AND GREASY, AND SHAGGY LIKE A LOST DOG! NOBODY HAS ANY RESPECT FOR HIM, AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU!”

 

Haki stood at the edge of their lawn in her pink, ruffled nightgown. She wiped tears from both cheeks while attempting to explain her act of diplomacy.

 

“Yes, I wanted to settle things with him no matter how offensive he might look! The poor soul rarely goes anywhere, and doesn’t bother us, or anyone else in this development. I never see his family visiting, I don’t even know if he has anyone left to check on his well-being! The only reason you have to complain about him is your darned residential association! And that flopped because nobody really wanted to get involved. That’s the way of the world, honey. People moan and groan but never get together when it counts. Don’t blame that on the old drunk, it’s a sad part of human nature!”

 

Her spouse was sweaty and stammering to the point of slurring his words.

 

“NONSSSSSENSE! THAT’S A LOAD OF COW CRAPPP! WE WERE DOING FINE UNTIL HE STARTED DUMPING ON MY GOOD IDEAS! HE WOULDN’T BACK ME WHEN IT COUNTED! AND EVERYTHING FELL TO PIECES! HE SHOULD’VE BEEN EVICTED RIGHT THEN AND THERE! BELIEVE ME, I ARGUED THE POINT WITH OUR PARK MANAGER! BUT THAT BLACK-HAIRED HOOCHIE WOULDN’T LISTEN!”

 

His companion shook her head with frustration. Nothing she said seemed to invite calm to return. The temperature of their words kept increasing, exponentially.

 

“Link is a loner by nature. I’ve never seen him spend much time at bonfires or cookouts or parties. He’s a hermit. A reclusive, crazy, oddball guy. I think every place we’ve ever lived had someone like that. And it’s no crime to be happy with your own company. Not everyone needs to be praised and applauded just for getting out of bed in the morning!”

 

Linn reddened at this obvious bit of sarcasm. He stomped across the deck and growled, while pointing his index finger for emphasis.

 

“WAS THAT A CRACK AT ME, MRS. SPECK? DO YOU REALLY THINK I NEED TO BE CODDLED LIKE A DAMN CHILD? WELL I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM A LOT TOUGHER THAN THAT SACK OF DUNG UP THE STREET! HE’S AN ALCOHOLIC BUM WITH BAD BREATH AND A BADDER ATTITUDE! NOBODY SHOULD EVER APOLOGIZE TO HIM ABOUT ANYTHING, OR WORRY OVER HIS PERSONAL LIFE! SCREW HIM AND HIS CUPBOARD FULL OF FIREWATER! HE CAN KISS MY ROUND ASS!”

 

Haki smirked visibly, while pulling her robe tighter with a silk tie at the waist.

 

“I think he kicked your ass instead of kissing it, honey. That’s why you still have bruises from his cane!”

 

A wild yowl of lost composure echoed from the deck. Their marital incident had run its course.

 

“I’M DONE WITH THIS ARGUMENT! YOU WILL COME BACK INSIDE RIGHT NOW, AND START MAKING BACON AND EGGS! NOT ANOTHER WORD ABOUT THAT LOSER AT LOT 13, DO YOU HEAR ME? NOT ANOTHER WORD! BE A GOOD CHRISTIAN WIFE, AND KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! I MIGHT BE BRUISED, BUT I AM STILL THE HEAD OF THIS HOUSEHOLD!”

 

A silent moment passed between them, with each partner glaring at the other. Then, the statuesque female turned on her heel. She had surrendered any desire to be a peacemaker. Instead, for the first time, her thoughts turned to self-care and making an escape.

 

“I’m going to say this straight out, Mr. Speck. Your bullying days are done! You treat me like that, and Link like that, and frankly, everyone like that! Well, I can’t stomach it anymore. I’m taking the car and going on a road trip to Pennsylvania. My sister is waiting, she’s tried to talk me into leaving for months and years! You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself. Or go get whacked again, if you prefer. But I’ve had enough of your insults and taken enough of your orders. This is goodbye, honey. G-o-o-d bye!”

Trailer Park Vignettes: “Distance Maintained” (Part Three)

  

c. 2026 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-26)

 

 

Haki Speck had been married to her current husband for over a dozen years. A decision she secretly regretted, but could not escape without summoning emotional confidence, and a measure of financial support. During that period of time, she had experienced many highs and lows in their relationship. With negative aspects generally overshadowing the better days. Most often, because of her partner’s bullying and impulsive personality, and tendency to overestimate his prowess in social situations. The rotund, balding fellow was sure of himself to a fault, but less manly when on the brink of a dispute. Too often, finding that his capabilities for intellectual discourse and physical, self-defense were outstripped by a general lack of cojones.

 

At the outset of conflict, he was bold and strident. Yet in the balance, this stance inevitably turned into a flaccid retreat, and grumbling about the cruelty of fate.

 

When his wife heard the shouted oath that they would soon be relocating to a new home in a different county, that promise rattled her nerves. She had become comfortable on a certain level with life at Evergreen Estates, despite the many flaws and foibles of their rural community. To gut the trailer and begin again, somewhere else, made little sense. They were already deep in debt, under a constant threat of bankruptcy, and unpopular with many members of their own families. Upsetting the delicate balance they had achieved would bring little benefit.

 

When Linn yowled about dumping their singlewide abode, after the most recent encounter with his adversary up the street, she reached her limit of patience. Standing with shoulders squared, and her hands on both hips, the middle-aged woman squawked out an exclamation of her own. A throwing-down of the gauntlet, that was out of character, and surprisingly harsh.

 

“I’VE HAD IT WITH YOU AND THAT OLD DRUNK AT LOT 13! YOU BLUSTER AND MOAN AND WHINE ABOUT HIM, CONSTANTLY! BUT NOTHING EVER CHANGES. HE ISN’T GOING ANYWHERE, AND NEITHER ARE WE! YOU TWO HOTHEADS JUST NEED TO COOL IT, AND MAKE PEACE WITH EACH OTHER!”

 

Her significant other was stunned by this outburst. He had to gather himself mentally, before responding.

 

“What did you say? Make peace with that dirty boozer? He’s a contrary bastard, and a constant thorn in my side! I’ll never forget how he scuttled my park association! And he never subscribes to our way of thinking on any issue! You never see him at Sunday services up on the hilltop. He’s a disgusting alcoholic, shaggy, shabby, and smelly!”

 

Haki had gathered her glistening mane in a gold clasp engraved with a heart design.

 

“C’mon now, honey! You don’t exactly live like a saint, either. Your potty mouth can really get out of hand after a few glasses of Jägermeister! And you sometimes end up on the ground by our firepit, when people come over to hang out in the evening. At least Link stays on his spot. He never wanders around trying to push his opinions on anybody else. As a matter of fact, the guy is practically invisible most of the time!”

 

Linn widened his eyes with shock and disbelief. He could not process this rebuke from his betrothed, other half.

 

“YOU’RE REALLY GOING TO DEFEND THAT SAD SACK OF CRAP? PLEASE, TELL ME YOU’VE GOT A FEVER OR SOMETHING ELSE. YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS! HE HAS NO FAMILY OR FRIENDS, OR COMMON SENSE! HE STINKS LIKE A BREWERY! OR MAYBE A MOONSHINE STILL IN THE HILLBILLY MOUNTAINS! HE’S THE WORST KIND OF TRASH THERE IS, TOO STUPID AND ASHAMED TO LOOK AT HIMSELF IN THE MIRROR!”

 

The statuesque female folded her arms and tapped one foot in a rhythm of defiance.

 

“I’m going to go right over to his trailer, and make an apology for your behavior. We’ll settle this spat right now! I’m done with the two of you feuding like the Hatfields and McCoys!”

 

Her male counterpart clenched his fists and huffed for breath.

 

“YOU’RE GONNA DO WHAT? APOLOGIZE? HELL NO YOU’RE NOT! THAT’D BE A SIGN OF WEAKNESS AND SURRENDER! I’D BE HUMILIATED IN FRONT OF EVERY OTHER CITIZEN ON THIS PROPERTY! I WON’T LET YOU GO, HONEY! YOU ARE FORBIDDEN FROM LEAVING THIS ROOM! SIT YOUR SHAPELY ASS DOWN, AND BEHAVE!”

 

Haki flushed a deep shade of crimson that was frighteningly independent. She pulled away from her husband’s grasp, and opened the front door with a jerk of its tarnished, metal knob.

 

“BEHAVE? I HAVE TO BEHAVE, YOU SAY? LOOK, I AM NOT A PIECE OF PROPERTY, MR. SPECK! YOU DON’T OWN ME AND YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT I CAN OR CANNOT DO! THAT’S THE BOTTOM LINE!”

 

With a click-clack of chunky heels, the fierce femme stampeded across their deck, down the front steps, and over the sidewalk. She had the high-stepping cadence of someone in a marching band. Her determination to be seen and heard was obvious.

 

Linn sat on the couch, in between mounds of decorative pillows. He felt defeated and useless.

 

“I don’t get this at all. I just don’t get it! Where did I go wrong?”

 

On the porch at Lot 13, T. C. Lincoln was already tipsy and well into a bottle of bottled-in-bond bourbon. He swooned in his seat, gently humming melodies that were playing inside his skull. An orange, safety vest hung over his broad shoulders. A baseball cap with a faded, monochromatic flag sat atop his head. He was in the midst of a fiery, liquor swig, when footsteps clattered from his access ramp.

 

“Hey Link, I want to talk with you! Is it okay for me to come up there?”

 

The reclusive iconoclast was caught off guard. He never expected to receive guests during the day, most certainly not any of his conservative neighbors. But the sight of a tall, curvy visitor pleading for an audience made him feel sober enough for a moment of clear thinking.

 

“Ma’am, I have to say that I can’t figure why you would be here right now. But all the same, come ahead. Use the guest chair if you want, I won’t bite...”

 

Haki brushed stray, golden curls away from her face. She remained standing and folded her hands as if saying a prayer.

 

“Link, I know we’re not friends. And you are certainly not a fan of my hubby. But I am here to make amends. I apologize for his rowdy mouth, and attitude. You’re both proud men, you have your separate opinions, and I can respect that!”

 

Lincoln scratched his gray beard and chortled lightly.

 

“Proud men? Well yeah, I’m proud of being stubborn maybe. As for your pork-rind of a dude down there, he’s a gawdamn nuisance most of the time. But I can let it slide if he keeps his distance. Look in my front window if you need a reminder...”

 

The seasoned mother nodded with understanding.

 

“You’re kinda crazy, old man. A little bit like some of my uncles in Pennsylvania. But I don’t let it scare me. I can live and let live, that’s how they were about outsiders and malcontents. Everybody has their own lane in life. If you’re smart enough to stay there, we can all travel the same roads without having a problem. That’s where Mr. Speck gets his boxers twisted!”

 

The drunken loner agreed with this candid assessment.

 

“You’ve got it right there. He makes himself mad, always wanting to have the glory of being a big shot. I’ve never cared a damn about any of that shit. I do my own thing and expect others to do the same...”

 

Haki felt oddly comfortable around this unconventional hermit. It gave her a sense of being liberated to be in his presence. For once, she was unconcerned about being judged or corralled. Or worst of all, scolded for not behaving like an errant child.

 

“Would you share that jug while I’m here, Link? I mean, let me have a taste of your Kentucky hooch?”

 

He was surprised by this request to the point of going blank. But willingly surrendered his bottle, without arguing.

 

“Umm... well now... sure, I’ll be glad to pass this along in a spirit of goodwill.”

 

The tall, curvy woman threw back her head and then chugged brown juice until it made her crosseyed with the burn.

 

“DAMN, NEIGHBOR! THAT’S SOME STRONG STUFF YOU’VE GOT!”

 

Lincoln was stunned. He slouched on his wooden bench, and pondered this unexpected display of rebellion.

 

“Well how about that? I never figured on you taking a long pull of whiskey, straight up!”

 

Haki crept closer while looking directly into his piercing eyes. She had turned warm and tingly, all over. Her cheeks were bright red.

 

“Link, you’re not a scary old grunt at all. Actually, that long, wild hair suits your personality. It’s restless and untamed, just like you! I’ve never been so unafraid to approach someone new. As a matter of fact, to be honest, I like the cut of your jib. What I mean to say is... you’re one of a kind, like a diamond in the rough...”

 

In a random gesture of affection, she bent forward, perching on her toes, and pouted for a kiss.

 

“You’re a diamond, Link, and don’t even know it!”

 

The bourbon addict recoiled at this pressing of her mouth against his own. He shuddered and spit before shouting with astonishment and revulsion.

 

“NO NO NO NO! HELL NO! HELL NO! MA’AM, I DON’T KNOW WHERE THAT CAME FROM AND I DAMN WELL DON’T WANT TO KNOW! I APPRECIATE YOUR SENTIMENTS AND ALL, BUT IT’S TIME TO SAY GOODNIGHT! GO BACK HOME TO YOUR HUSBAND AND HIS HANG-UPS! YOU DON’T BELONG HERE WITH ME! NOBODY ON THIS EARTH BELONGS HERE WITH ME! I CAN’T HARDLY STAND MYSELF, MOST OF THE TIME!!”

 

The rejected suitor drooped her head, and shuffled away while whispering a final farewell.

 

“I’m sorry, Link. Really, really sorry. I’m sorry for my husband and his park crusade. I’m sorry about the arguments and calls to the sheriff, and all of that noise. But I’m not sorry over coming here today. I thank you for listening... and sharing a moment of your time!”

Trailer Park Vignettes: “Distance, Maintained” (Part Two)

  

c. 2026 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-26)

 

 

After being emasculated by the old drunk on his street at Evergreen Estates, Linn Speck took a predictable course of action. He ran immediately to their park office for the purpose of lodging a complaint with the property manager. But upon arriving at the office, he received a reaction that did not correspond to what was expected. Dana Alvarez was away dealing with a family matter, and in her place, a part-time employee of the owners who normally worked at a different site was on hand. He had been hired for routine maintenance chores, and had little interest in handling resident disputes or other social disruptions.

 

Bender Morcheski weighed around 300 pounds, packed into a burly, undersized frame of about five-and-a-half feet. He had huge limbs, and walked with a thud of heavy footsteps. Yet was gentle in his manner. Nearly quiet enough to be caught whispering in the midst of conversation. He preferred to stay busy with repair duties, digging trenches, mending leaky pipes, twisting frayed wires back together, and filling potholes in their streets with buckets of gravel. So, when the red-faced, former association leader began to pound on his door, there was no greeting of good cheer offered. He simply grunted from behind the used desk that had been bought at a neighborhood auction.

 

“Quit makin’ so much gawdamn racket, will ya? What the eff? Get in here and state yer case!”

 

Linn had sweaty jowls and a look of complete frustration.

 

“I WAS JUST ASSAULTED BY THAT DIRTY DRUNK AT LOT 13! ARE YOU GOING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT OR WILL I HAVE TO CALL THE SHERIFF?”

 

Ben sat his smoldering cigar on the edge of a glass ashtray which had once belonged to a restaurant on the township square.

 

“Assaulted? How did that happen? Did that boozer crawl down ta yer trailer or somethin’? He can’t take a dozen steps without fallin’ over!”

 

The persistent agitator flushed with guilt, while reflecting on his ill-advised deed.

 

“Well no, I went to see him about trash blowing around in his yard. He’s a menace sitting there getting inebriated every day. Throwing cans and bottles around, belching, passing wind, listening to sports broadcasts on his cell phone...”

 

The maintenance man laughed until he was out of breath. Then, narrowed his eyes.

 

“You actually confronted that dude about his porch habits? Son-of-a-bitch! I didn’t think anybody ever went over there ta see him. Dana stays away, and I do too. We never see his family come ta visit. When I hear shit about his lot getting’ messy I’ll drive by in the golf cart we own, but I never see nothin’ there. Somebody is cleanin’ up that trash fer him. Or maybe it ends up at yer lot, on windy days? I don’t know and don’t give a damn, either!”

 

Linn began to seethe with rage.

 

“LOOK AT MY MOUTH! IT’S REALLY SORE! HE WHACKED ME HARD WITH ONE OF HIS CANES! I NEED HIM TO BE EVICTED IMMEDIATELY! OR ELSE THE SHERIFF CAN DO IT! EITHER WAY, IT’S UP TO YOU! SHOW SOME BACKBONE FOR A CHANGE!”

 

There was a pause that indicated disinterest in this plea. Then, the fix-it fellow stood up from his broken, roller chair.

 

“Mister, I ain’t in the mood ta be bullied. Dana handles shit like this, you’ll have ta take it up with her. I’m just here ta answer the phone and collect rent checks. Or should I say, collect my own check, I gotta do somethin’ useful around here ta get paid!”

 

The erstwhile community organizer slammed both of his flabby hands on the desktop.

 

“Thanks for nothing then! Thanks for absolutely nothing! I’ll call the sheriff on my own!”

 

Even before walking back to his home on the corner, Linn had dialed the number for their county’s top lawman. But once he had identified the alleged perpetrator, a wheezing sound of discontent filled his ear.

 

Sheriff Tom T. Rath took the call himself. He was not impressed with a vague description of what had transpired in the cluster of mobile homes, and barked a stern rebuke in response. e He  

 

“Sir, you need to calm down for a minute. I can’t make sense of what you are saying. Was there some kind of home invasion where you live? Did someone break in? Was there a confrontation with other members of your family?”

 

The park instigator groaned and hesitated before attempting to explain his plight.

 

“Sheriff, I went to lodge a complaint about creating a public nuisance in our neighborhood. You see, there’s a hermit on my street who won’t socialize with others in our community. His name is Townshend Lincoln, and he looks like a refugee from the hills...”

 

Rath sputtered while stifling amusement. He wanted to maintain decorum during the call.

 

“T. C. Lincoln? That’s who you confronted? Well I must say that it explains a lot about what must have happened. He isn’t fond of receiving guests on his front porch.”

 

Linn was flustered and furious.

 

“YOU KNOW HIM, SHERIFF?”

 

The law-enforcement executive smiled while reflecting on memories of yonder days in their county.

 

“His parents used to live down by the high school, in our capital city. They were kind and respectful people. He’s a bit ornery by comparison, but never hurt anybody. Much less difficult to handle than his younger brother, who was a truck driver for several years. I’d suggest that you just leave him alone...”

 

This advice did not sit well with the frequent complainer. He huffed and stomped his feet while arguing for a different resolution.

 

“LEAVE HIM ALONE? ARE YOU KIDDING, SHERIFF? HE STRUCK ME ACROSS THE TEETH WITH ONE OF HIS DISABILITY CANES! I STILL CAN’T EAT SOLID FOOD! MY MOUTH WILL TAKE WEEKS TO HEAL!”

 

The department steward had to restrain an overwhelming urge to chortle out loud.

 

“You went to his lot for the purpose of stirring up trouble, correct? That puts you at fault. It is his castle, his home. His strip of land, at least for the lease term. Nothing would have happened otherwise. I know Link, he’s not one to become involved in a conflict on his own. That guy likes to get loaded on liquor, pass out on his bench, and call it a day. There are worse people to handle in this county, believe me. We’ve got methheads with mullets, militia types, amateur crime bosses coming out from Cleveland, and scammers using artificial intelligence. An old booze hound like Link doesn’t even register on my radar. Give him a wide berth, and stay at home where you belong!”

 

Linn could feel his pulse beating hard in both temples. He slammed the cellular device on his kitchen table. Then began to howl at his wife, who was in the living room with a glass of white wine, and a soap opera episode on the television.

 

“HAKI! PACK YOUR BAGS, HONEY! WE’RE DONE WITH THIS PARK! IT’S TIME TO MOVE OUT OF HERE, FOR GOOD!”

 

Trailer Park Vignettes: “Distance, Maintained”

  

c. 2026 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-26)

 

 

T. C. Lincoln had one goal in mind at the start of every day. To be outside on his porch by the afternoon, drunk soon afterward, and left alone. He did not crave companionship or social interaction of any kind. This reclusive nature made him the subject of gossiping and rumors around Evergreen Estates, a rural community of mobile homes near Lake Erie. Yet it had no effect on his habits or emotional disposition. He was content to have fallen out of favor with those who also lived on his street in the blue-collar development. Only one mantra ruled the day for this contrarian hermit. It had been printed on a piece of posterboard with a black marker, and hung in the front window, backed by a camouflage blanket used for a curtain.

 

“KEEP YOUR DISTANCE, EVERYBODY! I DON’T FIRE WARNING SHOTS, AND I DON’T DIAL 911!”

 

Generally, other residents ignored him as a curiosity in their midst. A seedy, shaggy curmudgeon muttering to himself while becoming inebriated on strong drink. But for Linn Speck, a rotund, balding fellow who had once aspired to become head of a neighborhood association in control of the park, this sort of willful anonymity could not stand. He had a grudge to bear that would never be surrendered. An overwhelming desire to seek revenge for past offenses, and a judgment in front of his peers that the dirty boozer should be expelled from their prefab oasis.

 

On a weekend in the summer, those living at the isolated development were lazily enjoying outdoor activities. Propane and charcoal grills belched aromatic smoke into the atmosphere. A sizzling of prepared meats could be heard at every lot. Music echoed from portable radios, open windows, and passing trucks. The laughter of children added to this festive mix of ebullience. But on the corner, there was only a scowl of disgust, and a groan about not having organized a picnic that would raise funds for the new group of leaseholders.

 

Linn sputtered with his flabby jowls turning red.

 

“That old bastard is still screwing people over! I just know it! He should’ve been evicted from here a long time ago, dragged away on his butt by the sheriff himself!”

 

Haki, his statuesque spouse, rolled her eyes at this familiar protest. She was somewhat fatigued from listening to the same complaints, over and over again.

 

“Honey, you haven’t even seen him walk down his ramp in months! He never goes anywhere, they bring groceries to his home, kids get the trash bin when it is full, and his SUV never leaves the driveway. I bet its battery is dead!”

 

Her husband groaned while pondering a visit to chastise the oldster, face-to-face.

 

“Nonsense! I bet he’s on the phone, calling people. Probably the township police, or trustees, or county commissioners. You know, anybody who’ll listen! He’s a troublemaker with an axe to grind! An outsider who never should have been allowed to move here in the first place!”

 

Haki brushed the long, glistening hair out of her eyes. A gentle breeze toyed with her billowing skirt. She was pretty despite being a veteran of many years, lived.

 

“Oh, come on now! I’d guess that he can’t even read the display on his phone, after a few drinks! There are always empty bottles in his yard, and beer cans. He must throw them off the porch in a drunken stupor, maybe. I really don’t know!”

 

Linn snorted defiantly. Then, got up from his lawn chair, and turned to leave without a proper explanation.

 

“THAT’S IT! THAT’S IT! I COULD KISS YOU RIGHT NOW, MRS. SPECK!”

 

The mature woman shook her head with befuddlement. Both hands slid upward, to her curvaceous hips.

 

“Kiss me? What the heck? Don’t walk away after a remark like that! What do you mean? Come back here and explain yourself, mister!”

 

Lincoln had been outside for at least two hours. Long enough that the side yard by his singlewide abode was littered with rubbish. The trash receptacle had tipped over apparently, and yielded a wealth of plastic tubs, food containers, and empty jars. He was oblivious to this fault, being tipsy and content with his routine. But the sight of such a mess on public display provided a perfect excuse for someone to intervene.

 

The former association president shouted from a safe spot out in their street.

 

“LINK! I KNOW YOU’RE BLITZED, BUT THAT’S STILL NO EXCUSE FOR ALL THIS TRASH BLOWING AROUND! IT’LL BE AT THE NEXT LOT PRETTY SOON, AND THE NEXT, AND THE NEXT! THEN, IT’LL BE DOWN AT MY LOT! AND THAT’S WHEN I’M GOING TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!”

 

The cranky alcoholic was amused by this show of force. Yet unimpressed with the threat.

 

“Sure, do whatever you want. Remember though, I’ve got two disability canes up here. Keep your distance unless an ass-whipping is on the agenda for today! I’ll swing like a major-league batter, and that’s no bullshit, brother!”

 

Linn frowned to the point that he was squinting. He drew closer with every word.

 

“YOU’RE GONNA HIT ME WITH YOUR WALKING STICK? NOW THAT’S DAMNED HILARIOUS! I BET YOU CAN’T EVEN LIFT THOSE ARMS OVER YOUR HEAD! FACE IT, LINK, YOU’RE A WORN-OUT HUSK OF A MAN! A LOSER AND A LONER! NO FRIENDS, NO FAMILY, AND NOT ENOUGH SENSE TO CLEAN UP THE GARBAGE DUMPED ON YOUR SIDEWALK!”

 

Lincoln tensed upon seeing his adversary approaching. But also reacted with a sense of disbelief. The persistent agitator kept stepping forward while yowling. One, two, three, four, five steps, and more. Until at last he stood at the feet of his target.

 

“CLEAN UP THIS DANG MESS! IT’S BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU SIT OUT HERE ALL DAY, BUT SEEING YOUR TRASH SCATTER MAKES IT EVEN WORSE! I’M GOING TO CALL THE PARK MANAGER! SHE’LL FINE YOU FOR NOT TAKING CARE OF THINGS! IT’S YOUR FAULT, NOT MINE! THIS IS THE WAY THINGS HAVE TO BE!”

 

A bourbon haze lingered around the contrarian’s face and beard. He had difficulty trying to focus his eyes. Every image he could see was blurry, and fluttering. But then, his left hand found one of the metal canes. He turned the prop stick at an angle, and recoiled to strike.

 

WHAPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

 

Linn went running, while cradling loose teeth in his hands. His words were barely intelligible.

 

“YOUUU BASTARD! YOUUU OLD, SMELLLLLY BASSSTARD! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOUUU GOT THAT MUCH STRENGTH LEFT IN YOURRR ARMS! WHAT THE HELLL, LINK? WHAT THE HELLLL?”

 

His opponent grinned while opening a cold round of brew. The disability implement slid to a spot on low on his floorboards.

 

“What did I say, dumbass? Keep your distance! Do that, and we won’t have any more trouble!”

“Rebuttal Rhyme”

  

c. 2026 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(6-26)

 

 

Seeking to be prominent

That’s a charge I can’t accept

With infirmities and handicaps

I am quiet on my deck

Did you take a detour

From the truth to other things?

And imagine me a boxer

A mighty king of the ring?

I’ll guess that you have erred

It’s amusing on its own

To judge a busted fellow

As if he sat upon a throne

I can’t claim to be averse

When told to take a hike

But I’ve got a poet’s knack

For writing lyrics, in the night

So, I’ll offer you this verse

Given as a point of fact

It’s not worth the effort needed

For a verbal, vain attack

I’m anonymous enough

To make one wonder if I exist

A work of speculation

A plotted plunder ‘round the twist

If you think upon this

With the care that it deserves

You’ll find yourself in a maze

A roundabout of endless curves

Looking at a mirror self

With evidence intact

A rebuke from the top of mind

A stated point of fact

I hope you’ll listen closely

At what the whispers say

There’s a reason to be silent

When you have no cards to play

It’s better to be thought a fool

Than to testify in court

Better to sail away from harm

Than languish in the port

You’ve brought this stain upon yourself

Now it is yours to face

No boast of brawn, however loud

Can bring a touch of grace

Turn aside from stepping stones

Too quick to slip and slide

A gambler knows to fold his hand

When a wager is unwise

Chastened by the odds

And shy from shedding gain

I’d rather skip a try at luck

Than surrender my good name

When you come with a claim to make

In the gleam of glorious gold

Remember that false witness borne

Is soon to be retold

What you speak to power

Will echo back, a hundred times

Until your ears grow weary

From the ring of restless rhymes

The painter’s brush is careful

To color every claim

And if you also dabble there

Be certain of your aim

An invocation to the sky

Or a cause of sticks and swords

Choose the yield of a patient smile

Over pride and war

Perhaps this chant is not enough

I know you may dissent

But the final word is on my tongue

This tome is at its end